#just needs to get past the funky aura

[labrxnth]

Prison Break- Part 2 (Leon Kennedy x Reader series)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

CW: Death Island spoilers (obviously), suicidal thoughts/tendencies

WC: 1858

Summary: You and your field partner Leon continue your search for Doctor Antonio Taylor on Alcatraz

A/N: Sorry This was late, I had a busy schedule and major writer’s block

The first thing you noticed about the harbor is that it smelled like salt. Saltiness and almost a tackiness filled the air as you looked out of the rolled down window. Your hand traced circles on the car seat absentmindedly as you watched the boats and people the car was speeding past.

“What’re you thinking?” Leon asked, his hand drifting dangerously close to yours. When he got to an inch away, he stopped, his hand giving a deadly space between the two. If you were paying full attention, it would’ve made you upset, but for some reason this mission really wasn’t sitting right with you.

Call it survivor’s gut or intuition, but this mission was sitting funky in your stomach.

You took a deep breath and turned your head to face your partner. “I don’t like this… Maria being involved with Taylor means that someone like Arias wants a robotics engineer,” You answered and shifted a bit in your seat.

“I don’t like it either,” Leon replied. The two of you were always good at having each other’s back and making the other one feel validated. That was your whole friendship, being the person that each other needed.

You were the person Leon needed after, well, everything he had gone through. Raccoon City, Project Javier, Los Illuminados and Simmons were hard for him to shoulder alone. His life felt like a dark and foggy hallway, a trail of blood and cynicism following him. But in the midst of everything, you were a light. You were with him through everything for the past few years, carrying a candle filled with your aura that scared off the darkness and the fog in his hallway.

You were the one person who hadn’t run away or died, and he’d like to keep it that way.

He was the one person he hadn’t run away or died, and you would like to keep it that way.

Leon S. Kennedy was an enigma to you when you first started working for the D.S.O. under recommendation from Hunnigan. Through the past few years of working together, the two of you started out as drinking buddies then quickly became actual friends. It was over for you when you looked into his eyes and saw who he truly was for the first time. The mission in New York, the summit, the look on Leon’s face were all seared into your mind. His blue eyes tossing your heart just like a human thrown overboard into a vast ocean.

But you were convinced the look he gave you that night was just for your façade; the role the two of you played. If you never spoke life into your feelings, he never had to reject you.

“You’re doing it again,” Leon’s voice cut through your memories; bringing you back to the streets of San Francisco and dragging you away from the dinner party in New York.

“Huh?” You asked, blinking a few times, trying to adjust to the setting Sun in your eyes.

“Getting lost in that big head of yours,” He replied and chuckled lightly. “You do that more lately…. Ever since that mission in NYC.” His eyes looked at you, almost as if searching for an answer for an unasked question.

“I’ve just been thinking about things,” You said, trying to pass it off as nothing.

“Thinking about…..?” Leon asked, his eyebrows raised.

“Life stuff… like if fighting half dead people and gross science experiments is gonna be the rest of my life,” you said, making an excuse. You didn’t like to lie to Leon, but this one thing you made an exception for. And it was true, sometimes you did think about how your life has taken a turn after college.

Leon hummed in response, looking out his own window. The autumnal setting sun reflected in his eyes and hair, making his irises shine like diamonds and his hair shining a dirty blonde in the rays. When the sun hit him, it was a reminder of who he was, the dirty blonde hair and full blue eyes that he had that night in Raccoon City. He thought that Rookie Cop died that day, but maybe all he needed was a constant sun in his life; someone who brought his hope back.

“Don’t start thinking about that stuff, it’ll drag you down,” he warned. “Trust me.” His voice had an edge to it that you had only heard a few times before. The edge that reflected a tinge of sadness, but resilience.

The car stopped at the dock, you and Leon getting out of the Uber and taking in your surroundings. To the public, the only way to get to Alcatraz was a ferry tour, but luckily the two of you could call in a few favors and pull a few strings.

“Follow me, the boat should be at the Marina.” Leon said. He walked in front of you, making his way towards the docks. With no other option, you walked with him, trying not to look at how his blue shirt hugged his biceps a little too well.

The two of you quickly made your way towards a boat with a big branded D.S.O. logo on it.

“Couldn’t have been more covert?” You asked flatly.

“Gotta warn them before we blow their shit up,” Leon said, half joking. He got in the boat, slinging his duffle bag off his shoulder and putting it on a seat. You climbed on after him and looked around the small speed boat.

“You sure this thing has ballistics?” You asked, raising an eyebrow.

“It’s American, it can blow something up as long as you try hard enough,” He replied with his shit-eating grin. You chuckled in reply and got into the seat next to him, giving him the chance to drive for once. Leon noticed you not fighting for the wheel and he took the opportunity to start the boat and pull out of the Marina.

“So, (Y/n),” He said, putting the boat in drive and starting to steer to Alcatraz. “I’ve been thinking…” He added.

“That’s never a good thing,” You said snarkily and chuckled a bit.

“Very funny,” Leon said and rolled his eyes.

“But for real, what’s up?” You asked and looked at him. He was really focusing on what to say with how much his eyebrows were knitted and the lines next to his eyes were visible.

“It’s bad timing… we can talk about it later,” he said and looked at you, smiling.

You shrugged, thinking nothing of it. The sun setting over the bay was beautiful, it being the only thing that could peel your attention away from Leon. Your eyes tracked the sun, squinting slightly at how bright it was, but smiling at how the waves reflected the red and orange haze it was.

You went to say something to Leon and saw the same look in his face that you’d only seen once before. Amidst fancy clothes, cocktails, and fake friendships, was Leon’s face having the same look as he did now.

It was gone when he realized your eyes had met his. In a blink of an eye, he was back to his normal, scanning the area with a neutral facial expression.

Leon parked the boat at the back of the island and the two of you put on your combat gear: vests, harnesses, etc. once you two were ready to go, you were getting out of the boat and heading towards a tunnel opening.

“Munitions tunnel, should get us in,” You said and nodded towards it. Leon nodded in response and followed you into the tunnel. Eventually, the tunnel opened up to sewers, you two finally being able to fully stand up.

You turned to Leon to say something when you heard a loud BANG! The two of you locked eyes and your handguns were both drawn, aimed towards the other end of the sewers where the explosion came from.

After walking forwards a bit, the sewer split two ways, one to your left and one ahead. The sewers were set up on a block system, like a city.

“I’ll go forward, you go left,” Leon said and turned his ear com on. You nodded, copying his movements and doing the same.

The two of you gave each other a nod and separated hesitantly. Whenever the two of you separated, things never went well. Understandably, it was a necessity, but it still never went well.

You turned your flashlight on and walked to the left, then down the hallway. The light illuminated the tunnel and the sinking feeling you had gotten earlier hadn’t gone away. With Leon gone, it got more prominent.

Your boots hit the cobblestone, echoing with each footstep. Looking around, you were finding absolutely nothing. Out of the corner of your eye, the flash light reflected off of something metallic. You turned towards where the shimmer had come from and found an indented doorknob.

Silently, your hand opened the door and you slipped through it, closing it just as quietly as you opened it. Overhead lights turned on and revealed you to be in a hallway. Holding your gun up, supported by your flash light, you kept on forward.

The door at the other end of the hallway was open, revealing a more open hallway. As you walked, a small electronic buzz hit your ears as you saw one of the security cameras move.

“(Y/n), (L/n) how interesting,” A voice over the PA system said. You swiveled around, your gun up, staying silent.

A sharp pain hit the back of your neck and your hand shot to where the pain was coming from, feeling nothing unusual. Your eyelids fluttered shut as the world went dark and your knees buckled, sending your body falling towards the floor.

“At least you’ll bring me Leon Kennedy.” The voice added.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* : ｡ﾟ☆. ───

Leon marched on forward, trying to keep his head in the mission. Usually, he was good at compartmentalizing and having a one track mind for the mission. That was, until you became his partner; even now, he was worried about how you were faring.

He knew you could handle yourself, but still he worried about you. He didn’t want you getting hurt, or worse, like everyone else in his life.

Leon heard the sound of boots hitting the cobblestone path in front of him and held his gun up, ready to shoot. He rounded the corner and the barrel of his gun got grabbed, sending him into a sprawl. Him and the other person he was fighting with were both trying not to wind up in the sewer water, dangerously close to their feet.

After a few seconds of exchanges, Leon recognized the familiar brown color of hair he was fighting. His eyes finally adjusted to the darkness and he took in the bigger picture, seeing an all too familiar face. The two of them backed off of each other and took the other in.

“Well, if it isn’t Jill Valentine.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* : ｡ﾟ☆. ───

Catch it early on my A03!

#resident evil fanfic #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #resident evil fanfiction

[thethickerside]

Something slight :) - A/N

Pop star main character x Shuri

Note: Shuri is not the black panther in this short story. This short story is based off of the song “Portuguese Love” by Teena Marie.

Also, I wrote this at about 2-3 am when I had a burst of creativity. Pardon me if there is any spelling or grammar errors. - A/N.

——————

Portuguese Love.

——

The late 1970’s were a time where Diana felt glorious. She had it all. She had the looks, the talent, and the perfect life.

Well, for the most part.

The cold air rushed past her as she began to hug herself outside of a popular nightclub. It was currently midnight, and her friends had convinced her to come. Once she walked in, she was greeted by colorful disco lights and bodies touching one another. The funky music made her want to jump out of her own skin and dance the night away…but she couldn’t help feeling a tiny bit misplaced.

One of her friends, Leaane, grabbed her hand and led her to the bar. “You need to relax and have some fun.” Leaane looked at Diana and smiled while handing her a martini. Diana looked at the drink, and then back at the dance floor. “Fine.”

She quickly downed the drink before asking for 2 more. After 3 whole martinis; she felt looser, sexier, and a bit more adventurous. She took Leanne’s hand and took her to the dance floor. A slow and sultry beat began to flow out of the sound system. Diana recognized the song to be “A Love of Your Own”.

“You’re never to far behind, a love of your own.” Diana sang out while savoring the music with her body.

The music was slowly turned down as a sultry voice spooke into a mic. “Hey…wait, is that Diana?” Diana looked up at the mention of her name, and found a seductive woman at the dj booth, surrounded by many people. “I’m so sorry, but I gotta have a dance with you. You’re so gorgeous.” Diana giggled and nodded her head, signaling the women to come over.

The crowd cheered and the music came back on. Diana watched as the slender women made her way over. Once she was close enough, Diana could make out her facial features. Her hair was cut on the sides, and her curly hair fell right above her eyes. She made Diana’s heart beat faster with just a stare.

“Cmon mama…let’s dance.” The woman spoke. She grabbed Diana’s hand and stepped behind her, placing her hands on Diana’s hips. They both began to dance to Marvin Gaye’s “I want you”. The sultry beats made Diana’s hormones go insane, coupled with the tender touch of the other woman. “You’re so beautiful…” The other woman spoke into her ear.

Diana soon felt tender kisses planted along her neck as a hand slid down her cleavage. Diana grabbed the hand and turned around facing the mysterious music. “What’s your name..?” Diana fiddled with the gold necklace that was placed around her neck while looking up at her.

“Shuri.” The woman responded. Diana recognized the name of the woman as being the owner of the club. “You own this place?” Diana asked with a slight smirk on her face. “Yes, I do.” Shuri replied. Shuri eyes scanned Diana’s face. Diana could feel Shuri’s hands get closer and closer to her backside.

Shuri’s entire aura made Diana feel weak in the knees. Shuri felt forbidden to Diana…but she wanted to much more of her. “Is there any where else we can go? For privacy reasons.” Diana asked. Shuri let out a chuckle. Diana could see gold on her bottom teeth. Shuri took Diana’s hand and began to walk to her office.

———————

I honestly don’t know if I should continue on with this…but if do…it’ll be the freakiest shit ever. I hope you all liked this 🫶🏽— A/N.

#letitia wright #black panther #letitia x reader #shuri fic #shuri x reader #black women #letitia wright smut #shuri smut #toxic shuri #black lesbian #70s aesthetic #saphic #Spotify #letitia wright scotty #letitia smut #shuri mcu #queen shuri #shuri fanfiction

[welcometomybraincomics]

Brrrr Mermaid AU has been kicked out of the hot seat by Woods Monster AU where Heimdallr is the funky little cryptid instead of Fumi osijgosiejfef

Ok, so scene:

Fumi has a crush on this dude. They don't know each other very well, but Fumi wants to get to know him better. Just as Fumi has the courage to start becoming friends (or maybe just as they're starting to become friends), his crush goes missing and turns up dead in the middle of the woods with signs of an animal attack and traces of something unidentifiable.

The woods have always been a strange place, odd noises and foot prints, inexplicably spooked animals, but Fumi lives just on the edge of them, so while he's aware of its strangeness he's also accustomed to it.

The death had been attributed to a cougar attack, but the childhood summers spent in the woods behind his home made Fumi feel confident that he would recognize the signs of a dangerous predator if any came around. Despite that, Fumi stayed out of the woods for a few weeks out of respect for the dead. If felt strange to walk into a place you knew someone had died, but eventually the bird calls and rustling leaves beckoned Fumi back into the shadowy understory.

---

[Tired, so I'm not actually writing everything out]

On a walk, the woods go quiet, like a dangerous predator is around. Thinking it's cougars, Fumi decides to turn around and go home

Fumi runs into someone who looks like his crush in the middle of the woods path on his way home (or Person steps out of the brush right as he's about to turn)

The person's just standing there, staring

He looks healthy and very not dead

Is this a ghost?

Person steps toward Fumi, a stick cracks under foot, and Fumi runs home, "screw the cougars, this guy is way past unsettling." (it can snap a stick so clearly not a ghost)

He spots the person through his window later

Shenaniganry happens (Like Fumi throwing a stick out of fear and the person bringing it back like a dog???) and Fumi realizes the person acts like a curious animal (and is always watching his place), which is creepy, but not that harmful (This process would probably take a while)

He spun in place, thinking of what to do.

He eventually decides to try... communicating with it

---

pthththth Need something that makes Fumi realizes that this person who looks like a person is very much Not a Person

Maybe it shapeshifts in front of him???

maybe....

It shifts into a dog bc people like dogs and Fumi brings it into the house and while exploring, it moves out of Fumi's sight, doesn't realize Fumi is following it and it transforms back to human form to reach something??? [Alt. it doesn't realize there's anything wrong with transforming bc Fumi hasn't run away from its mere presence, unlike the woods animals)]

Alt, after Fumi establishes communication with this person that acts like a curious animal, they come in and..... transform while doing something??? Houses are built with human convenience in mind, so why would it even feel the need to transform???? Become a cat and perch atop the fridge or something to watch Fumi??????? That wouldn't make sense 'cause it can watch Fumi just fine when Fumi's interacting with it. Hmm...

---

[After realizing it is a creature and not a human and living with it for a while; like maybe 1-2 weeks after realizing it's not dangerous]

He can't just call it by his crush's name, that would be weird and suspicious. The creature doesn't seem all that dangerous... despite it's appearance and unsettling aura. It just seems to... watch.

His eyes scanned the room as he thought. Just as he was about to start spinning, a movie poster caught is eye. It was a Thor one, gifted to him by a friend. The movie hadn't particularly been his favorite, but it had been fun and it seemed a waste for it to just rot away in some closet. On it was Heimdallr, noted in the movie to be "all seeing" with some magical exceptions as well as a watchman. Fumi turned his gaze back to the creature. It definitely wasn't a god, but it seemed apt enough.

"What do you think of Heimdallr?"

#WElfjoiefjwoif I meant to just to a paragraph summarizing #Fumi and Heimdallr #Oc #Woods Monster AU #prose #aiuerghiuerghieug #I am now filled with the intense urge to draw scenes from this au #just moody and mildly creepy #And then caption it something that changes the mood #Like one of Heimdallr just standing over Fumi sleeping #and captioning it “Most creatures are too scared of it to sleep in its vicinity... Fascinating” #aifajeoiragnerf #Draw later

[my-weird-news]

20 Epicly Awkward Prom Pics from the Funky Past 🕺📸

Prom Night Follies: Groovy Awkwardness That Ages Like Moldy Cheese 🕺👑 What is it about peeking into our pasts that tickles our funny bones? Seriously, it's like a nostalgia-induced comedy show where everyone's dressed in the silliest outfits, parading around like they just found a stash of enchanted dress-up clothes. Is it the thrill of seeing folks rocking their bizarre getups without a hint of irony? Or maybe it's the relief that we're no longer wearing powder blue top hats and curtains-as-dress fashion statements. Whatever it is, let's dive into the chuckle-worthy world of awkward prom photos from the Groovy era. Leave the Top Hat Alone, It’s Bored of Your Company Hold the phone, folks, we’ve got a guy in the back sporting a top hat that thinks it's starring in a soap opera. I mean, that thing has more drama than a Shakespearean tragedy. Meanwhile, Mr. Caught-Off-Guard on the side just wants to have a normal picture, but nooo, top hat guy is stealing the limelight. Let’s give it up for the gals though, who are pulling off their looks like they’re getting ready for a blast. They probably wish they left that top hat at home, locked away with all the ghosts of fashion past. Flannel Fever: The Key to Everlasting Love Step right up, folks, for the most '70s prom pic you'll ever lay your eyes on. We've got shag carpet squares, paper mushrooms that look like a failed art project, and dual plaid suits that scream, "Hey, let’s match like a married couple!" These two deserve applause for their coordinated flannel, but someone please get them a towel – the prom dance floor doubles as a sauna, apparently. Magic and Mismatched Expressions: A Perfect Recipe Attention, prom photographers: Can we get a matching expression coordinator, stat? Nothing says “I’m thrilled to be here” like a split-screen of a guy who's hyped and a date who's mentally grocery shopping. Seriously, it's like watching a buddy comedy where one person didn't get the memo that it's supposed to be a comedy. A Puff of Smoke and a Splash of Style Catastrophe Cue the smoke machine, folks! Behold the wide-lapelled flannel jacket that thinks it’s the real star of the show. Bowtie, you're cool and all, but let's be real – the jacket’s hogging the spotlight. This was clearly the golden age of experimenting with fashion, when everyone took a detour through Crazytown before arriving at Promville. But hey, at least this guy has the crown for the greatest 1970s mullet. Congrats? From Prom to Mortuary: The Unenthusiastic Guy Meet the guy who treats prom like a funeral procession. Hands folded, pet gecko missing, and an overall aura of doom – it's like someone swapped his prom ticket with a burial plot reservation. Buddy, cheer up! It's prom, not a séance. Life’s too short to mourn your own prom night. Moonlit Bananas and Peasant Fashion Hey, remember that time the school decided the prom theme was “Jungle Love”? No? Well, neither do we, because it's bananas – literally. Those gals are perched on a moon that could easily double as a giant banana in another life. Maybe the school mascot is the Fighting Bananas. Who knows, it's the Groovy era – anything's possible. ’70s: When Dads Took Over Teenage Bodies The 1970s: when teenage boys turned into middle-aged dads overnight. This guy's got more wedding vibes than a justice of the peace. Did they card him at the entrance? Or did they offer him a briefcase and a 9-to-5 job as a dad-joke enthusiast? Ah, kids these days. Blinds, Blinds, and More Blinds: Oh Yeah, and Teens In this thrilling episode of "Prom Pics: The Next Generation," our young lovebirds are upstaged by the real stars of the show: venetian blinds. Because who needs prom memories when you can have window decor? But hey, at least the kids look happy. Somebody tell the blinds to chill. Last Known Photographs and Prom: A Perfect Match Look, folks, it's the "Last Known Photograph" series, featuring two teens who look like they're posing for an FBI witness protection program file. Are they having a great time? Is this a prelude to a crime spree? We need answers. But we also secretly hope they had a redo for a less ominous prom pic. When TVs Were Prom Dates: An Awkward Love Affair Guess what, folks? The '70s brought us the golden era of prom dates – enter the disembodied head! Because who needs a whole person when you can just go with the floating head option? Half-price tickets for half a person, anyone? Growing Pains and Cloudy Dancing Being a teenager: a tumultuous journey from 4'11" to 6'1" with legs that suddenly think they're in a growth race. These younguns are trying to walk on clouds made of cotton, but in reality, they're just tripping on clouds. Disco dance meets accidental acrobatics – it's all part of the '70s magic. "Jungle Love" or Just Plain "Oh No"? Someone needs to explain the '70s' obsession with bizarre prom themes. "Jungle Love"? Really? Did the school mascot have a stroke of genius, or did someone think, "You know what kids need? A dance that raises questions about cultural sensitivity!" Let's all agree that "Jungle Love" should've stayed in the jungle. Captain Awkward: Ready for Takeoff Breaking news: Prom pic rule #1 – thou shalt not look excited. This guy’s suppressing his inner cheerleader so hard, he's about to explode in a burst of restrained enthusiasm. Inside, he's doing Olympic gymnastics. Outside, he's trying to win the medal for "Most Chill Dude at Prom." Flashback to the Groovy-est Gagworthy Trends Ta-da! If you ever wondered what a single frame of the '70s looked like, here you go. Behold the high collars, wooden wall panels, and oversized glasses that together create a montage of fashion crimes. It's like the '70s threw up in one picture, and we can't look away. Mickey Ears Are So Yesterday, Meet Mickey Dots Who pulled the Mickey Mouse prank on this guy's prom photo? Did he willingly become a# Prom Night Follies: Groovy Awkwardness That Ages Like Moldy Cheese 🕺👑 What is it about peeking into our pasts that tickles our funny bones? Seriously, it's like a nostalgia-induced comedy show where everyone's dressed in the silliest outfits, parading around like they just found a stash of enchanted dress-up clothes. Is it the thrill of seeing folks rocking their bizarre getups without a hint of irony? Or maybe it's the relief that we're no longer wearing powder blue top hats and curtains-as-dress fashion statements. Whatever it is, let's dive into the chuckle-worthy world of awkward prom photos from the Groovy era. Leave the Top Hat Alone, It’s Bored of Your Company Hold the phone, folks, we’ve got a guy in the back sporting a top hat that thinks it's starring in a soap opera. I mean, that thing has more drama than a Shakespearean tragedy. Meanwhile, Mr. Caught-Off-Guard on the side just wants to have a normal picture, but nooo, top hat guy is stealing the limelight. Let’s give it up for the gals though, who are pulling off their looks like they’re getting ready for a blast. They probably wish they left that top hat at home, locked away with all the ghosts of fashion past. Flannel Fever: The Key to Everlasting Love Step right up, folks, for the most '70s prom pic you'll ever lay your eyes on. We've got shag carpet squares, paper mushrooms that look like a failed art project, and dual plaid suits that scream, "Hey, let’s match like a married couple!" These two deserve applause for their coordinated flannel, but someone please get them a towel – the prom dance floor doubles as a sauna, apparently. Magic and Mismatched Expressions: A Perfect Recipe Attention, prom photographers: Can we get a matching expression coordinator, stat? Nothing says “I’m thrilled to be here” like a split-screen of a guy who's hyped and a date who's mentally grocery shopping. Seriously, it's like watching a buddy comedy where one person didn't get the memo that it's supposed to be a comedy. A Puff of Smoke and a Splash of Style Catastrophe Cue the smoke machine, folks! Behold the wide-lapelled flannel jacket that thinks it’s the real star of the show. Bowtie, you're cool and all, but let's be real – the jacket’s hogging the spotlight. This was clearly the golden age of experimenting with fashion, when everyone took a detour through Crazytown before arriving at Promville. But hey, at least this guy has the crown for the greatest 1970s mullet. Congrats? From Prom to Mortuary: The Unenthusiastic Guy Meet the guy who treats prom like a funeral procession. Hands folded, pet gecko missing, and an overall aura of doom – it's like someone swapped his prom ticket with a burial plot reservation. Buddy, cheer up! It's prom, not a séance. Life’s too short to mourn your own prom night. Moonlit Bananas and Peasant Fashion Hey, remember that time the school decided the prom theme was “Jungle Love”? No? Well, neither do we, because it's bananas – literally. Those gals are perched on a moon that could easily double as a giant banana in another life. Maybe the school mascot is the Fighting Bananas. Who knows, it's the Groovy era – anything's possible. ’70s: When Dads Took Over Teenage Bodies The 1970s: when teenage boys turned into middle-aged dads overnight. This guy's got more wedding vibes than a justice of the peace. Did they card him at the entrance? Or did they offer him a briefcase and a 9-to-5 job as a dad-joke enthusiast? Ah, kids these days. Blinds, Blinds, and More Blinds: Oh Yeah, and Teens In this thrilling episode of "Prom Pics: The Next Generation," our young lovebirds are upstaged by the real stars of the show: venetian blinds. Because who needs prom memories when you can have window decor? But hey, at least the kids look happy. Somebody tell the blinds to chill. Last Known Photographs and Prom: A Perfect Match Look, folks, it's the "Last Known Photograph" series, featuring two teens who look like they're posing for an FBI witness protection program file. Are they having a great time? Is this a prelude to a crime spree? We need answers. But we also secretly hope they had a redo for a less ominous prom pic. When TVs Were Prom Dates: An Awkward Love Affair Guess what, folks? The '70s brought us the golden era of prom dates – enter the disembodied head! Because who needs a whole person when you can just go with the floating head option? Half-price tickets for half a person, anyone? Growing Pains and Cloudy Dancing Being a teenager: a tumultuous journey from 4'11" to 6'1" with legs that suddenly think they're in a growth race. These younguns are trying to walk on clouds made of cotton, but in reality, they're just tripping on clouds. Disco dance meets accidental acrobatics – it's all part of the '70s magic. "Jungle Love" or Just Plain "Oh No"? Someone needs to explain the '70s' obsession with bizarre prom themes. "Jungle Love"? Really? Did the school mascot have a stroke of genius, or did someone think, "You know what kids need? A dance that raises questions about cultural sensitivity!" Let's all agree that "Jungle Love" should've stayed in the jungle. Captain Awkward: Ready for Takeoff Breaking news: Prom pic rule #1 – thou shalt not look excited. This guy’s suppressing his inner cheerleader so hard, he's about to explode in a burst of restrained enthusiasm. Inside, he's doing Olympic gymnastics. Outside, he's trying to win the medal for "Most Chill Dude at Prom." Flashback to the Groovy-est Gagworthy Trends Ta-da! If you ever wondered what a single frame of the '70s looked like, here you go. Behold the high collars, wooden wall panels, and oversized glasses that together create a montage of fashion crimes. It's like the '70s threw up in one picture, and we can't look away. Mickey Ears Are So Yesterday, Meet Mickey Dots Who pulled the Mickey Mouse prank on this guy's prom photo? Did he willingly become a Read the full article

[jardaddy-a]

@rapturam​​ delivered a letter !  ( plots please ! ( listen i adore what we talked about on my other blogs and some dynamics we have already i am SO curious for your lamb thoughts ) )┊   ⤏ send me “plots please”… and I’ll respond with  3  (or more)  interesting  plots / relationships / connections  I can think of for our muses! // ACCEPTING !

This took me a hot second to work on because I had to do speedrun Anthurium’s new icons and I know little from the game other than Dior rambling about how their cult is fucking dying LMAOOO .    Which I need to change , I need to know what the game is ABOUT !!! 

1.) 🍏 DAISY  &&.  LAMB  ━ Okay , let’s start with platonic / funky friendships !  Considering that the laniatura of Sanctum Natura are pretty much time travellers   &&.  they’re known for hopping through multiverses for fun   &&.  observation purposes , it’d be funny if Daisy wandered into lamb’s little world by chance .  Considering she’s a devout follower of her own Goddess , she would definitely be interested in exploring other cultures and learn how other creatures devote themselves to the deities of their domain .     So just imagine her just walking in with apple pie as a housewarming gift and seeing the cult and she’d be like “Okay what the FUCK is going on in here ?” / j .     

But I think Daisy would be a very good friend for Lamb considering she’s from a different domain , immortal ( so lamb wouldn’t fear any type of loss ) , and she would see Lamb as their own person ( or lamb )   &&.  seek out a genuine friendship since she would communicate with them as they truly are .   It would also make up for a good contrast in personalities considering Lamb seems to be a very reverent creature , and Daisy’s the complete opposite due to her overly cheerful personality , this girl can literally light up the entire room with her aura alone ( sometimes literally with her powers ) .  If Lamb wants a friend that they can truthfully be honest to , she’s the one for the job ! 

                                       MORE BELOW THE CUT  ! ! ! 

2.) 🎎 ANTHURIUM   &&.   LAMB ━ Okay , i offer the prospect of shipping .   I read your most recent post regarding Lamb’s perspective towards love and I offer (1) immortal priestess who has the full capability to see them beyond a mere figure of idolization   &&.   worship since she is outside of their jurisdiction , it’s easy for her to see and love them as who they truly are .  Like Daisy , she also works in the churches ( or temples ) of Existence .   Considering Lamb’s love languages are acts of service and quality time .    Anthurium is a very homely person and she adores doing simple and meaningful things for her lover .   If Lamb fancies eating anything or has any cravings ( do they even eat . . . ? ) , Anthurium is a brilliant cook and would make home-cooked meals for them .   Even the simplest actions of respect like cleaning the locations where they hold sermons or any of their ceremonial artifacts and totems , whatnot .  

And as for spending quality time , this girl has the eternity of life being a deity’s champion so she’s willing to earnestly take her time into getting to know Lamb in a pace where they feel most comfortable .  Both of them sort of resonate with me considering both of them have personal fears and traumas in relation to their pasts and they could possibly support each other and keep each other grounded , Anthurium distances herself from mortals because of her uncanny to attract the supernatural has cost her those she loved and she’s afraid of losing others to the same fate .  The only cons are the periods that she’s away considering she’s devoted to her tasks in her own world hence there will be moments where her presence is minimal and the fact that she’s a magnet for supernatural creatures .   But she will always come to them , despite their differing responsibilities she will still show her devotion to them .  She would be willing to gently hold their hoof if need be .    I just find it funny because Anthurium is a priestess that attracts supernatural creatures and spirits and she ended up with an eldritch lamb cult leader , wouldn’t that be a SIGHT ? 

3.) 🌹 ROSERED  &&.  LAMB ━ Another potentially cute platonic relationship , and as a twist I’ll give a little youngin in turn !    I feel like Rosered would mesh well with Lamb’s personality .   I can see their first meeting being this child just travelling around and looking for new inspiration for her art pieces and accidentally wandering into Lamb’s world like some sort of cultish edition of Alice in Wonderland .    She just sees Lamb and instantly latches on to them .   ( It’s because she probably thinks they’re incredibly fluffy and she can’t resist cute animals )  Rosered is a very docile and sweet child and she has a very in-depth and vivid way of seeing the world .   I feel like she would visit Lamb from time to time and have a peaceful conversation with them over a cup of tea , or ask about Lamb’s cult and doctrines because she’s a very curious child .   And she’ll also craft artworks and pieces for Lamb ,  one day she’ll come running and show Lamb a dope portrait of them that she painted .  Rosered in mcdonalds with Lamb “Excuse me , they asked for a lamb toy in their happy meal.” / I’M JOKING - 

( INSERT THIS A.I. thingy , Imagine a painting like this but way prettier , i’m out of Midjourney trials LMAOO ) 

#rapturam #( My apologies I gave you a novel ) #( THIS IS JUST ME WITH MY INCOHERENT BABBLING OF POTENTIAL RELATIONS & #SLIGHTLY IN-DEPTH CHARACTERIZATION ) #( ALSO AAA I HOPE YOU'RE DOING OK PRAYING FOR YOUR SPEEDY RECOVERY ) #( I HAD ANOTHER RELATIONSHIP IN MIND FOR ANOTHER JARDIN OC BUT SHE'S NOT IN THE MAIN ROSTER YET SCREAMS ) #( when i saw that they usually use asl and i stare at my church choir conductor / composer who lost her singing voice #SMASHES DESK ) #˗ˏˋ┊🍏 * ( 𝐃𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐘 ━ &&. 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐮𝐥 × ) #˗ˏˋ┊🎎 * ( 𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐇𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐔𝐌 ━ &&. 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 × ) #˗ˏˋ┊🌹 * ( 𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐃 ━ &&. 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐲 × ) #˗ˏˋ┊💐 &&. * 𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐃. ( 𝐀𝐒𝐊 𝐑𝐄𝐏𝐋𝐘 )

[muggycuphead]

weird flex but ok i guess pt.9

8

War… Hold up, do we really need a warning for this one? Dunno, but however, watch out for slightly disturbing and kinda…disgusting imagery, trypophobic patterns, as well as ‘necrotic’ designs I made while having funky fever bc o h m y g o d do I get a little crazier every new quarantine day (and at this point it’s coming to be an usual thing for me, big sad). However, most are made no other than for the sole sake of satire, so y’know, no need to get your underwear in a twist

Friday Night Funkin’ BoyFriend’s Hood – AU fanconcept sketches [X]

EDIT 26/10/2023: Updated the drawing with a rescanned, more clean version

Ayooo- now you guys can see why I’m no longer pursuing this poor little thing anymore

…ow

THOUGH I did get inspired in some mods during the creation of these two (three if we do count the sad mop on the top*), mostly since I didn’t give that much of a damn about it at first sight, but now that I’ve gotten the emotional attach to it…yeah I sort of have regrets about it

Yee-haw I guess

…Imma just get into the info already lololol:

1.- Broddy

Big brother but cheap lol

…Nah jk I love this fellow

This guy was actually inspired in the whitty-boyfriend edited sprite (yeah the funny long boi) who casually seemed to appear in a picture alongside BF’s Mom and Dad, hence why he lookin so thin

BTW funny street sign logo design on his shirt, I’m so clever eeheheh- jk

Also the faded eyes were meant to give him a mysterious aura at the start, but now they’re basically something he inherited from his dad (you’ll see later how I designed him so you can tell)

Also also, you guys are allowed to make fun of me over the fact his hoodie’s design doesn’t make any sense. Like- the thing’s open like a jacket yet it has the strings to pull in and out the hoodie from behind, what?????? (this also happened with my FNFCE Leopold sprite, so double funny haha on my ass)

2.-Sissy

Big…no wait- she’s actually the middle woman in the siblinghood

…okay

Fun fact BTW: she was originally though off as a male, and casually enough, the memory I recall of her (or should I say him* for this case specifically) kinda resembles a little to Big Brother

…No I’m not kidding, the hairline I remember for her literally looks a lot like his, guess it was just coincidence

And yes, that tire mark on her arm is a tattoo…above a scar she actually got over an accident that happened at the repair shop

No it wasn’t BF’s fault...or Broddy’s even

Actually, I don’t even remember what happened, but it involved a badly braked bike and something that got in her way while she walkin’ on the shoop

3.-Past!BF / Lil B

aAAAA smol bean child bby

He so cute

…but he’s secretly a little shit

Don’t tell Sissy that tho, that might frickle her pickle

4.- Past!GF / Missy G

Another smol bean

This time it has sulphur in it wowowowow

I gave her a more awoken look bc ye, I don’t really have an actual reason for it besides haha funky demon child go wowza

5.-Bike Mechanic BF (Teenhood)

Boyfrendo got a jobbo

He a breadwinner y’all

He’s been in the business since he was a smol child, he got the good experience

…no we don’t do child exploitation innuendos here, you’ll see what was up there tho dw

6.- Biker GF (Teenhood…?)

Damn sis, lookin good right there

And yes she used to own a bikey back in her young days, don’t ask me how licenses work in BF’sH’s NG city, cuz I have no clue

…but hey, if kids can hav gun with no permissions, then who sayin they can’t drive bikeys w/ no loisense? (jk they might do have license systems but I guess the age limit is whatever, it’s been so long I can’t remember a-)

7.- Q-Zin (Beta Design / Prototype)

Sad mop

I just found out not too long ago about Older Brother, and Q-Zin does have some similarities with him personality-wise, but I haven’t seen the mod so I’m not sure, sorry

BTW he’s dead

…well, not dead  in actual terms, just…physically dead (and sort of emotionally, he’s gone through quite some stuff down there at the Graveyard)

8.- Lil B icon style

Bikey Child

9.- Missy G icon style

Cashey Child

10.- Daydreaming BikeMech!BF

When you reconcile with your (yet) platonic babe and she sneakie you her phone number in your pay so you can ring her up anytime

…yeah that

Classy GF, really classy

And yes they did know each other way longer before than canonically stated (FNF says they just met during tutorial, BF’sH says they know each other since childhood instead)

And the reason I said platonic was due to 1) they reunited after a long time of not seeing each other, ergo the relationship (frens) had just reemerged and 2) Pico and BF are pursuing a relationship here (secretly), though it’s between platonic and amorous (basically what you’d call a ‘meta-couple’)

So yeah

11.- GF’s note

I’m sure he will do hun, I’m sure he will do

12.- Hambarga

S’up bro, brought you lunch

It’s about that one time GF bought some food for BF during lunch hours

Though I don’t wanna stick with the original factor that it was because he barely does enough money to buy something good to eat (for real, it just sounds cruel), so I guess he just is so stuck into his work he sometimes lets lunchtime slide past him (I know it’s not better but at least it doesn’t sound like he’s forced to starve, like c’mon man)

10

#friday night funkin' #fnfau #bfsh #alternate universe #alt universe #alter #alternative timeline #au #at #bruh look at those #bruh moment #bruh #i slep now

[rsmrymnt-tea]

Super late since I wanted to have a lil time to reply but wahh I was rly looking forward to the Belphie rant sjdjfjf it's so interesting! Was mainly curious about the canon divergency part but rly got the whole megillah huh <3 rly appreciate the reply!! Kind of obsessed with the easy bonding through dreams instead of through the door, turning eachother reluctantly into almost comforting or comfortable presences ;;w;; and all to end up...that wrong anyway smfh.

You mentioning he puts in work after the incident to make up to Dola made me think that while he actually would in that obvious way that makes him seem a little desperate like in canon, maybe even time after thee events Dola finds herself resting easy, having specially colorful and vivid dreams, lush tropical landscapes dark and full of flowers, maybe even getting some inspiration from them for her art. She'd surely catch up quick, right? I imagine her frowning n making a little fist like "belphegor...." but with whatever fondness she can manage to have for him sjdjjd

And for Sally!!! Aaaa wasn't expecting such a nice reply cuz as you said it'z all in my head and I never speak about them anyway but....this is so accurate. It's canon, I see it!!

Ty for saying they're fashionable;;-;; in my mind everyone at goetia has to be or u get the one over looks by the rich clients lmaoo </3

I think it'd make for an interesting friendship :O since u say Dola would become a regular once her hair whitens, Sally would lowkey try to convince her to do funky stuff like streaks and such bc the potential!! But other than that I'm having a blast at imagining this not very sociable demon bein extra awkward because this is thee human exchange student AND and accomplished artist AND an insanely powerful sorcerer and she is..just so chill and simple.... I thought they'd meet not quite after Dola's become immortal but when she is already pretty accomplished and in a better place than st the beginning of the exchange, for some reason? (Tho the meeting mid hair chopping and wearing hoodie crisis is SO good too lmao)

So. Kind of like the opposite of Thirteen's first impression of the mc basically... Sally would be like "!!!! Ooo they are dashing" bc of Dola's whole presence and air of power that encompasses her :3

You're so right about their death aura cancelling, also I like to believe they'd get along bc Sally isn't into prying much into anyone's business or actually want to dig into people's psyches and like. they could talk at eye level eventually? No need to "open up" past "man HoL sucks ass I wanna get a little pet and Lucifer won't allow :/" & past all actual small talk that yes,, sally would make but also would be v out of touch bc what even are humans, huh?

I read ur reply for Mammon &&& also wanna add that Sal would sooo want to show them interesting stuff around the devildom anytime as well! Parlors of fx make up, body mods and tattoo artists up but for demons and such? There has to be so many forms of art in there to get into ! (Maybe not even going together but just hitting Dola up like hey there's this cool sculpture garden opening -and it's smth absolutely wretched and gross sjdjdj-)

But before that happens! Rly dig the idea of them starting out by walking home at night after goetia closes! Just thinking smth smth about bus rides at night (its always Night there anw....but u get it) and them taking the last one as they make small chatter but it feels rly comfortable <3

((AND pleaseee I'm Loving Dola being Sal's gateway into human world stuff. Seeing her giving her some obscure band tshirt or like. Both comparing each realm's knock off brands absjdk))

Well....i went off..! But thats abt it sorry for rambling hehe ty for indulging me this is so much fun to think of! I def agree they both need a couple friends even tho they are lone wolves..loners..misfits even 💀 <33 <33

Sorry I held onto this ask for a bit because I loved rereading all the stuff about Sally ;w; In love with the DolaSal friendship like >w<

I really do think that Dola would be like... affectionately annoyed at him for actually doing a good job of making things up to her. I know it's like a common headcanon, but I love thinking that he makes sure to keep nightmares of the Incident™ away even before she was willing to have anything to do with him. But like, in a more subtle way—like just making sure she has dreamless nights instead.

Tbh since writing the stuff for Belphie and Diavolo I sort of started wondering if Dola would ever forgive Diavolo, but then I realized she'd never forgive him for erasing her original timeline because it erased a lot of important moments for her from ever happening int he first place, and now they exist only in her own memory and no one else's. >.>

Anyway!! Sally!! Because I am over the moon than me making shit up has been accurate to any degree sdhkdf Literally was typing stuff up while scrolling through your sally tag and going 'Is this... Does this make sense for them...' then keeping going & hitting post before I could overthink >.>

hdfgjkgh the way you imagine their first meeting tho!! ;w; I didn't think of that... Just thought that after the post-Incident breakdown haircut (that now that I think about, I've never mentioned anywhere..?) Asmo would try to cheer her up by bringing her to Goetia and Dola ends up having a good time because of the cool stylist >w< I can see Dola not becoming a regular immediately since she's like, in and out of the Devildom for the first few years, but I also really like thinking about Dola keeping in touch with Sally even while she's in the human world and showing them everything up there through video call and stuff >.< Streamer but for an audience of one lmao (or 7 sometimes since I bet the brothers would like that too)

In love with Sally taking Dola to places in the Devildom??? ;w; I'm sure there's places where none of the brothers would really think to bring Dola or tell her about because why would they assume that she'd be interested in tattoos when she doesn't have any in her first year? Nor does she have any horns or tails or wings so why would they bring her to the body mod shops >.< Bet Sally would know about the more obscure art shows as well and beats Satan to the punch when it comes to either bringing Dola there or telling her about it, then when he finally gets to invite her she's already gone shdjkdfg

OOH and to add on to Dola showing and telling Sally about the human world... Would Sally be opposed to being summoned to go thirfting or something up there? :0 Or being taken to art and fashion shows...

Also... Since Sally's out of touch with humans & human stuff... Do they have their equivalent of Lucifer's iconic 'I've never cared when humans bred' line dhfjkfg... Just thinking about them dropping whatever their equivalent is like it's so casual and it makes Dola whip her head around to check if they're serious SO fast...

hdjfghfg anyway sorry for also rambling again >.< It's just so nice to think of Dola having friends beyond the brothers and purgatory boys but for some reason it's not as fun for me to make them myself >.>;;

#chat & colloquy #baalism #i also have this image of the brothers being so surprised that dola's finally made friends outside of them + purgatory boys after #more than 6 months in the devildom dflkjfg #idk why but its so entertaining to me + them eventually finding out she has a social life in the human world too #i like to think they just forget about mc having a life before and outside of them for like 90% of the time when theyre in the devildom

[yi-dashi]

iceflowers said:

Sad Yone noises

“But can you cook without blighting your meals, whatever you are?”

#iceflowers #oh no yiiiiiiiiiii #YIIIIII #he'd still accept it probably #just needs to get past the funky aura #and be like 'oh that is actually sad I will offer a toast of fish to that.....'

[junghelioseok]

covenant.

↳ your best friend’s engagement forces you to reevaluate your own feelings.

◇ hoseok x reader ◇ smut | angst | werewolf!au | f2l!au ◇ 16.4k [1/1]

⇢ arguably also an arranged marriage!au, ft. kinda sorta dumbasses to lovers? a very, very late bday fic for the most beautiful man in the universe and my favorite funky lil dancer. ♡

notes: i started this in my drafts well over three months ago and all it said was “this ain’t gonna be on time for hobi’s bday i can feel it” and damn if past!me wasn’t right on the money!!! this has undergone three edits, going from 14.6k to 16.4k somehow, and i am going to lose my whole damn mind if i don’t just post it so here it is! hope you enjoy!

warnings: dom!hobi, alpha!hobi, bit of dirty talk, oral (f receiving), some grinding against hobi’s thigh, knotting, hobi’s got a big dick idk, also he’s in heat!!! but things eventually get really soft bc i love him and am a Soft Bitch™ 🤷🏻‍♀️

It’s going to rain.

You can smell it in the air and feel the damp chill against your skin, permeating through every layer of your clothing. The surrounding forest and all its occupants seem to be collectively holding their breath, waiting for the first drops to come. Even your footsteps, soft as they are against the loamy earth, sound much too loud in the hush that’s fallen. Dark clouds gather overhead, looming like an omen, and you silently reach into your purse to check that the umbrella you’d stowed this morning is still there. Vaguely, you wonder if it’s big enough for two.

Around you, the trees slowly begin to dwindle, until there’s only open sky above your head and a wide grassy expanse beneath your feet. A certain heaviness lingers in the air here—a low thrum of energy, born from the ancient magic that sleeps in the gnarled roots of the tree that sits in the center of the clearing. You can feel it prickling along your skin, raising gooseflesh and igniting your veins, and the closer you get, the stronger the feeling becomes.

At the far end of the clearing, you spot a small crowd of people, all clad in black. Your best friend—and your entire reason for venturing out today—stands amongst them in a tailored suit, his black tie snug at his throat and laid atop a charcoal gray shirt. He’s chatting with his father and a few other family members, seemingly calm and collected, but you can tell from the sloppy knot of his tie and the way he fidgets with the hem of his jacket that he is anything but. After all your years of friendship, you can read Jung Hoseok like a book. His auburn hair is disheveled as if he’s been incessantly raking his fingers through it, and even at a distance, you can sense the turmoil in his aura, haloing him like the stormy clouds overhead.

Sensing your approach, Hoseok’s gaze flickers up to meet yours. He raises a hand in greeting and bids farewell to the people he’d been chatting with, picking his way over to you with a wan smile.

“Hey. You made it.”

“I wouldn’t miss this,” you reply, reaching out to take his hand. It’s warm and strong as always, but you don’t miss the slight tremor in his grip. “How are you holding up?”

He shrugs half-heartedly, a sigh escaping his lips and dissipating into mist in the wintry air. “As well as can be expected, I guess. It just… it all happened so fast.”

“I know,” you murmur, twining your fingers together in quiet reassurance. “I’m so sorry, Hobi.”

“Thanks.”

Slowly, his gaze flits to the center of the clearing where the ancient tree sits, traversing from the leafy canopy all the way down to where the gnarled roots disappear into the dirt. In its shadow sits a polished wooden casket, and you squeeze Hoseok’s hand gently as he walks closer, his eyes beginning to glisten.

“I still can’t believe he’s gone, you know,” he mumbles. “All these years of war, of negotiations and peace talks, finally seeing the Accords pass and the company flourish… and now he’s gone. Cancer. Just like that.”

His voice cracks on the last sentence, and you clasp his hand a little tighter. You know as well as he does that a healthy werewolf can live for well over a century, if not for the human genetics that remain susceptible to human weaknesses and disease. True immortality afflicts only the faeries and the vampires of your world—and even then, there are still ways that those folk can die.

“He lived a long life,” you say after a moment’s hesitation, grasping onto any semblance of comfort you can offer. Together, you and Hoseok come to a stop in the shadow of the tree, peering at the closed casket where his grandfather lays. “And it was a good, just life. Not all of us can say that.”

A lone, wet droplet falls onto the polished mahogany, and Hoseok hastily wipes his eyes, tilting his head skyward. “Not long enough,” he whispers. “He still had so much to do. I… I still have so much I wanted to do—to say. And now I’ll never be able to.”

You caress a thumb across his knuckles, the motion soft and tender. “I know. And I’m sorry. I wish there was something I could do.”

Hoseok glances down at that, a glimmer of something manic and desperate swimming in his amber-flecked irises. “You could,” he says, grabbing both your hands and clutching them to his chest like a lifeline. “You could bring him back. You know how, don’t you?”

You shake your head sadly, hating the way his frown deepens as you free yourself from his grasp. “That’s forbidden magic, Hobi. That’s necromancy. You know I can’t do that.”

Hoseok’s entire body sags, his shoulders slumping as he lets out a heavy sigh. Instinctively, you step forward to wrap him in a hug, and he loops his arms around your waist automatically, pulling you flush against him. “I know,” he mumbles into your hair. Then he huffs out a dry chuckle, humorless and deprecating. “Fuck. I’m a mess, huh?”

You don’t answer. You don’t need to. Instead, you hold him a little tighter, rubbing his back soothingly in long, slow motions—the same way his mother used to do during bedtime. His heart thuds erratically in his chest, fast and frenzied like a caged bird, but lulls as you continue your ministrations, settling into an even rhythm once more.

“Thank you,” he murmurs after a few moments, his warm breath caressing your cheek. “For coming today. I couldn’t have done this without you.”

“You can do anything, Hobi,” you reassure, running a thumb along the sharp line of his jaw when he raises his head to look at you. “With or without me. But… you’re welcome, all the same.”

Your presence at this funeral is unusual, and both you and Hoseok know it. Werewolf packs tend to keep their rites and ceremonies private, and the Gwangju pack is no different. Led by Hoseok’s father, and his late grandfather before him, the werewolves of the city have rapidly risen to prominence and power, aided in large part by the founding of JungTech. The company, started by Hoseok’s grandfather, began as a small operation in a battered old warehouse, but quickly grew to become one of Gwangju’s biggest corporations after the signing of the Accords twenty years ago. The peace treaty marked the start of a tenuous coexistence between humankind and Shadowfolk, and, together with your fellow witches—along with the werewolves, vampires, and the few fair folk who decided to leave their homes deep in the forests—you migrated into cities all over the country to forge new lives.

It’s proven easier for some. While the wolves of the city have found tolerance—acceptance, even—you have not fared quite as well. Humans, you have found, tend to fear the ancient magic that runs through your veins. Though nothing you’ve faced comes remotely close to what your ancestors faced in centuries past, you remain wary of those who take a little too much interest in your abilities.

You’re a bit paranoid, your familiar, Bast, has remarked on more than one occasion. But it’s justified, so I suppose it’s all right.

As if sensing that your thoughts have turned to him, Bast stirs in the back of your mind. You feel him yawn and stretch lazily before there’s a tug on the soles of your feet, as if the force of gravity has suddenly, inexplicably doubled. Then he’s materializing—morphing out of the spot where your shadow would be if the sun were shining, taking the form of an inky black cat with sharp, golden eyes. Hoseok perks up when Bast loops between his ankles, and immediately squats down to scratch behind his ears, a small smile settling across his face as a low, content purr rumbles up from beneath his fingertips. From elsewhere in the clearing, a single howl rises up into the air, forlorn and wavering.

It’s starting, Bast says in your head. At the same time, Hoseok straightens to his full height, fiddling with the hem of his black jacket and looking over at you tentatively.

“Sounds like they’re getting started,” he says.

You nod. “I should go.”

Hoseok opens his mouth as if to protest—as if to say no, stay—but you know better and cut him off with a single raised finger.

“I’ll go,” you murmur. “This is a private rite, and I don’t want to break centuries of tradition by overstaying my welcome. Go join your pack, Hobi.”

“Will I see you later?”

“Without a doubt.”

Your parting gesture is to reach out and grab his hand, tucking a little drawstring bag into his palm and closing his fingers over it. “Valerian root and chamomile,” you tell him gently, taking in his rumpled collar and the dark bags beneath his eyes. “Make some tea tonight. It’ll help.”

Hoseok swallows and nods, his features softening as he gazes down at his hand cupped in your smaller ones. He looks like he wants to say something, but another howl interrupts, disrupting whatever thoughts he may have had. Instead, he nods again, murmuring a soft goodbye before turning on his heel to join the rest of the pack gathering around the raised casket. You turn as well, leaving behind the ancient clearing with Bast trotting by your side.

Up above, the heavens finally open, drenching the dirt path beneath your feet with rain. And behind you, the single howl is joined by dozens more, echoing mournfully up into the weeping sky.

///

You’re in the middle of straightening out a display of dittany when the kettle begins to boil, emitting three short, shrill whistles accompanied by a long stream of whirling steam. When silence falls over the shop once more, you wander over to where the kettle sits—atop a small wooden end table next to an old wardrobe. It’s an old relic that’s been passed down through generations of witches in your family, wrought out of silvery metal and suspended in an iron frame above a single lit candle. The flame is glowing pink, flickering in a nonexistent gust of wind, and you smile. Quietly, you grab two teacups from a nearby shelf.

Not two seconds later, the door of the old wardrobe creaks open, revealing the familiar face of Kim Seokjin behind it. A fellow witch and a good friend of yours, Jin has made a name for himself as a baker, running a café in Seoul that offers all sorts of confections—both with magical properties and without. His hair is dyed a muted dusty rose—a stark contrast to the casual black hoodie and jeans he’s wearing—and you reach out to push a stray lock back from his forehead in lieu of a greeting.

“Your hair’s pink again,” you remark. “I like it.”

Jin grins, his plush lips pulling back to reveal perfect teeth. “Thanks.” Carefully, he steps out of the wardrobe and shuts the door behind him. A beat of silence passes, and you take the opportunity to select a canister of tea leaves. You don’t miss the flicker of solemnity that settles into Jin’s features, though, listening as he clears his throat before voicing the question that is undoubtedly the reason behind his unexpected visit.

“So. How’s Hoseok holding up?”

Jin has never been one to mince his words. You suppose you appreciate that about him.

Quietly, you lift the kettle out of its stand and beckon for him to join you at the little wooden table at the front of your shop. It’s tucked neatly into the nook carved out by one of the two bay windows on either side of the front door, flanked by two well-worn, mismatched chairs. Atop it sits a pile of books—everything from ancient remedies to common household spells.

One book in particular always sits open—a detailed list of all the herbs and plants you carry in your shop, along with the various concoctions you’ve created with them. Hellebore, the spine of the book reads, and it’s the same word that graces your storefront in flowing, golden text. An apothecary of sorts, you spend your days dealing out potions and remedies to those in need, both human and Shadowfolk. You do your best to help, for all the times modern medicine has come up short and left someone wanting.

“Honestly? I don’t think he’s been sleeping.” You set the teacups down onto the table and fill them both before handing one over to Jin. “I saw him this morning, at the funeral. He looked exhausted.”

Jin’s brows disappear behind his pink hair. “You went to the funeral?”

“I didn’t stay,” you clarify, taking a sip of your tea. “Just wanted to drop by, say hello, and pay my respects.”

“Werewolves are a private bunch,” Jin remarks. “I’m surprised.”

You shrug. “Hoseok wanted me to be there. So I went.”

“I see.” He doesn’t say anything further, and neither do you, lapsing instead into a comfortable silence that’s broken only by the occasional sip of tea and the clinking of china. Your gaze wanders, drifting over to the front door of your shop, painted a cheerful green and set with a flowery stained glass window that throws kaleidoscopic rainbows across the cream walls and dark wooden floor. Sunlight streams through the wide bay windows, illuminating the interior in warm, hazy gold. On the other side of the room, Bast is curled up, fast asleep on his favorite plush bench beside the glass door that leads to the greenhouse, perfectly haloed by the sun.

“Must be nice being able to fall asleep anywhere,” you mutter, almost to yourself.

Jin hears you anyway, a chuckle escaping his lips. “You sound jealous.”

“Maybe I am,” you reply, laughing with him. “Speaking of which, where’s Adam? Did he stay home?”

Jin nods, jabbing his thumb in the direction of the wardrobe. “Yeah, he’s keeping an eye on the café. Told me to say hi to you for him, though.”

You giggle at the thought of Jin’s familiar, a long-haired sheepdog with a stubborn streak the size of the Nile and blatant disdain for following orders—especially those that come from Jin himself. “Keeping watch, or trashing the place?” you tease.

“With my luck, probably both,” Jin admits with a sigh. “I should probably get back there soon. He ate all the egg tarts last time.”

“Bring him with you next time,” you advise. “Bast will keep him entertained.”

He grins. “I don’t doubt it.”

Finishing off the last of his tea, he stands up and taps the rim of his cup, murmuring a soft cleaning spell under his breath. You smile gratefully as he replaces it back onto the shelf with the others, and stand to walk him back over to the wardrobe. Opening up the creaky door, you watch him clamber inside, standing amongst the hanging coats and the single pair of shoes on the bottom shelf.

“See you later,” you murmur. “Give Adam my best.”

Jin nods. “See you.”

He shuts the door, and you watch the flame of the candle once again turn a soft, roseate pink. It flickers briefly, dancing in an invisible breeze, before reverting back to the color of regular fire, signaling Jin’s departure. Quietly, you clean your own teacup and return it to the shelf.

The remainder of the afternoon passes with few customers, so you opt to close down early and head to your apartment, located up a short flight of stairs on the second floor of the shop. You’re rifling through the refrigerator for dinner ingredients and humming softly under your breath when your phone suddenly rings, Hoseok’s name lighting up the screen in bright white text. “Hey, Hobi,” you say, swiping across the glass to answer. “What’s up?”

On the other end of the line, Hoseok exhales shakily. “Can you come over?”

You blink, glancing at the darkening sky outside. “Now?”

“Yeah. Fuck, sorry. I know it’s late, but I really… I really need to talk to someone. I—” His voice cracks, and your heart sinks. “I need you.”

“Say no more.” Straightening up, you shut the refrigerator door and tug off your apron. “I’ll be there in half an hour. Have you eaten yet?”

Hoseok sighs. “No.”

“I’ll bring takeout,” you decide, already glancing around for your purse. “See you soon, okay?”

Bidding him farewell, you don your coat and head out the door, locking up behind you. Hoseok lives downtown in a sleek, modern penthouse that’s normally a twenty-minute walk away from Hellebore, but after stopping by the restaurant on the corner for food, you opt to catch the bus instead. Fifteen minutes after you hang up the phone, you are rapping the bronze knocker on Hoseok’s front door, a paper bag and a bottle of wine in hand.

Almost instantly, the door is flung open. Hoseok stands in the threshold as if he’s been waiting there, his auburn hair wild and his eyes even wilder. His aura is turbulent, and when he speaks, his voice is hoarse. “Hey.”

“Hey.” You raise the bag. “I brought dinner.”

“You’re the best,” he sighs, stepping aside to let you in.

Hoseok’s apartment toes the line between modern and cozy in a way that only Hoseok’s apartment could—with lush green plants and plushy, earth-toned furniture to offset the cold impersonality of the floor-to-ceiling windows and the stainless steel kitchen. Flicking on the kitchen light, you set the food down on the granite countertop and grab two wine glasses out of the cabinet. Hoseok sidles over as you pour a generous helping into each glass, rifling through the silverware drawer for utensils.

“Smells good,” he murmurs, popping a box open. “I’m starving. Thanks for bringing dinner.”

You brush off his gratitude and hand him a glass, raising yours so you can clink it gently against his. Quietly, the two of you fall into a comfortable routine, with Hoseok grabbing the food and you grabbing the bottle of wine to bring into the living room. You help him clear off the coffee table and arrange the food, then settle onto the couch beside him, sipping your drink in silence and patiently waiting for him to gather his thoughts. Years of friendship have taught you that he’ll talk when he’s ready, and you’re content to wait as long as he needs.

Sighing, Hoseok tips the rest of his wine back into his mouth before setting the empty glass down with a soft plink. “So,” he begins, not quite looking you in the eye. “My dad and I had lunch today.”

You stay quiet, waiting for him to continue. He takes several more seconds to muster up the words, and when he finally finds them, they’re exhaled in a tumbling rush. “He told me that he’s pleased with how I’m running JungTech. It’s been over a year, and things are going well… so he wants to expedite my takeover of the pack. In two months, he wants me to take over as the alpha. And…” He swallows. “He wants me to settle down.”

Perturbed, you blink. “What?”

Hoseok finally looks at you, his expression frighteningly devoid of emotion. “He wants me to get married, {Name}.”

Comprehension doesn’t settle in right away. But when it does, your jaw drops to the floor, landing somewhere alongside the ornamental persian carpet and a stray sock that has no doubt jumped ship from Hoseok’s laundry.

“W-what?” you manage after a few long seconds of gaping at him. “Why? Why now? That’s so… that’s completely out of the blue.”

Hoseok shakes his head, a few shaggy strands of auburn hair falling across his forehead and into his eyes. “It’s not, actually. He’s been talking about it for a long time—trying to arrange something with one of the other pack families. It’s tradition, you know? Mating within the pack, keeping the bloodlines pure through marriage. The difference is that Pops always talked him out of it. Always said I was too young, that there was no rush, that I should wait for someone I love, my true mate...” He sighs, heavily. “But he’s gone now. And Dad’s decided that he’s done waiting.”

You shouldn’t ask. You shouldn’t, because you know it’ll hurt, but the question comes regardless—leaving your lips in a near whisper. “Who?”

Hoseok takes a deep breath, his shoulders slumping as he exhales. “Do you remember Im Nayeon?”

You do. You’ve known Nayeon almost as long as you’ve known Hoseok—the three of you having attended the same schools starting from elementary all the way up until Hoseok left to attend university in Seoul. Admittedly, you were never close—and if you were completely honest, you always found her to be a bit disingenuous for your tastes. Nevertheless, you often found yourself at the same events—parties and gatherings you attended at Hoseok’s request, and that she was privy to due to her family’s high-ranking status within the Gwangju pack.

“I remember,” you tell him, your bottom lip finding its way between your teeth. “Does… does she know yet? Have you met up with her?”

Hoseok nods. “She was there this morning, at the funeral. We talked a little bit and got coffee after, but… this is all happening so fast.” Slowly, he tilts his head back to stare at the ceiling, a sigh escaping his parted lips. “But there’s nothing I can do, right? It’s enough that Dad’s somehow talked Mom into the whole thing, but now he’s gotten the Council on board too. Did you know that Nayeon has an uncle on the Council? It’s insane, right?”

“Insane,” you agree in a whisper, doing your best to ignore the way your heart is splintering at the edges.

“You know, I always thought my Dad pressuring me was bad.” Hoseok buries his face in his hands, peering at you from between his splayed fingers when you hum in acknowledgment. “But this? The entire Council on my back? This is way worse.”

“I’m sorry.” You don’t know what else there is to say. Your ribcage feels like it’s been split open and filled with burning coals, weighing hot and heavy on your insides.

Hoseok has dated in the past, of course. You both have—chasing that elusive, fluttery feeling called love and never quite being able to catch it and hold on. Hoseok’s last relationship fizzled long before he graduated from university, having lasted only about six months. You distinctly remember meeting the girl during one of your frequent visits to Seoul, at a small party hosted by Hoseok and his friends. By your next visit, however, things had already ended. He never really told you why the breakup occurred either—only that the relationship never would have lasted in the long run.

Perhaps foolishly, you chose not to pry.

“Is there anything I can do?” you ask softly. Reaching out, you take ahold of his hand and tug it into your lap, threading your fingers into the gaps between his. The gesture is familiar and comforting, like cocoa in front of a lit fireplace, and you can’t even begin to fathom the idea of another person sitting here and holding his hand in your stead.

“Just talk to me,” Hoseok entreaties, squeezing your fingers. “Distract me. What’s going on with you?”

You hum, swallowing down the lump in your throat and letting your head fall onto his shoulder as you pick through the events of the past week for the most interesting tidbits. “Bast has been bringing me dead rats lately,” you finally say, nose scrunching at the memory. “You should see the size of them—they’re almost bigger than he is. And they smell like the sewers, because I’m ninety-nine percent sure that’s where he’s getting them from. It’s horrid.”

Hoseok huffs out a stilted laugh. “Sewer rats? Gross.”

“It’s not all bad, to be honest,” you tell him, nestling a little closer to the warmth of his body. Hoseok keeps his apartment chillier than you’re accustomed to, and you’re beyond grateful for the furnace-like heat he gives off naturally. “The bones are pretty useful. The tails too, provided you don’t tell people what they actually are.”

His laugh is much more genuine this time. “Tricky little minx,” he says, amusement lacing his tone. “I’ve always liked that about you.”

You ignore the uptick in your heart rate at his approval, grateful that he can’t see your face as a pulse of heat flushes your cheeks. Instead, you burrow into the crook of his neck, breathing in his scent. Hoseok smells like the forest—fresh and woodsy, with a slight floral undercurrent from his fabric softener. It smells like home, and you smile when his arm comes up to wrap around your shoulders.

“Jin came by today,” you murmur.

“Yeah?” The monosyllabic response rumbles through his chest.

“Yeah. He asked about you, too. You should probably text him later.”

Hoseok hums a confirmation, and, satisfied, you cuddle a little closer to him. You pull at the afghan he keeps laid over the back of the couch, laying it comfortably over your lap as he rests his head gently atop yours, his ear pressed to your crown. Your eyes fall shut as you listen to the rhythmic thud of his pulse—solid and steady, backed by the soft hum of the refrigerator and distant traffic on the street far below.

It’s comfortable, sitting with him like this. Comfortable, stroking his arm with your fingertips, in time with the drumbeat of his heart. Ever so gradually, Hoseok’s breathing evens out, and you briefly think that you could stay like this—encapsulated in this delicate, iridescent bubble of contentment—for the rest of your life.

You know the thing about bubbles, though? Bast remarks dryly in your head. They burst.

I know, you sigh.

I know.

///

There’s something soothing about taking inventory—something calming in the repetition of walking down the aisles of Hellebore and restocking the shelves one by one. You’d woken this morning to an apologetic Hoseok making pancakes in the kitchen, his residual heat and woodsy scent lingering on the blanket tucked around your body. After a harried breakfast and a promise to text you later, Hoseok rushed off to the office.

You, in turn, returned to your shop, where you grabbed every ounce of cleaning supplies you possess and scrubbed the place from top to bottom, foregoing all of your usual dishwashing charms and dust-clearing jinxes. The physical labor is a welcome distraction from the events and revelations of last night, and you’ve thrown yourself wholeheartedly into all the chores you need to complete.

“Almost out of rosehip oil,” you mutter, eyeing the half-empty vial and making a note to extract more from one of several plants in your greenhouse. “Low on valerian too, hmm…”

The bell over the front door jingles merrily, diverting your attention away from your task. “{Name}?” a voice calls softly. A moment later, a familiar head of coppery red hair pops around the edge of the shelves, choppy bangs framing a soft, warm face. “Hey, there you are. You busy?”

You shake your head and shut your inventory book, setting it down on the nearest shelf. “Not terribly, no. What brings you here today, Lisa?”

Lisa’s answering smile is sheepish. “Got something to return,” she says, holding up a little glass jar full of lavender colored pills that you immediately recognize. “I’m guessing you’ve already heard the news. Looks like I won’t be needing these anymore, right?”

Your laugh sounds brittle, even to your own ears. “Right. Yeah. Not anymore.”

For just over ten years, Lisa has been the wolf assigned to help Hoseok through his heat. Between his family’s status and his longtime designation as the next alpha of the Gwangju pack, it’s imperative for Hoseok to avoid anything that might be perceived as scandalous. Torrid sex stories splashed across tabloid covers is the last thing a man like Hoseok needs, and that’s where Lisa comes in. Once a year, for three days, she goes to him, and no one is none the wiser. Her job is one that calls for the utmost discretion, and as the daughter of a high-ranking Council official, no one understood that better than she did. You’d only found out because of your role as one of the few witches in the country who makes and stocks the proper contraceptives for such wolves—the dosage much stronger than the human equivalent.

And when Lisa had first approached you to purchase the pills, you’d dropped two jars and nearly set fire to a third. Your stomach had fallen to somewhere around your toes, right alongside the shattered glass and little lavender tablets.

You’d chalked the accident up to surprise. Hoseok hadn’t mentioned anything to you, after all, and you’d known very little about the intricacies of werewolf heats back then, having just opened your shop at age eighteen. But surprise doesn’t explain the snaking jealousy that bubbles up in your tummy every time Lisa comes in to restock her supply of pills, nor does it explain the overwhelming sense of relief you feel now as she presses the unopened jar into your hands.

“I still can’t believe he’s going to be the most powerful man in Gwangju soon.” Lisa steps back, tucking her hair behind her ear and letting out a soft sigh. “And now he’s engaged, too. It’s pretty crazy, huh?”

“Crazy,” you agree tonelessly, turning to replace the jar onto the appropriate shelf.

Lisa, however, is nothing if not perceptive. A gentle hand lands on your shoulder, stopping you in your tracks. “Hey,” she begins, soft and slow. “You know you can talk to me, right? Are you—?”

But the sound of the bell drowns out the rest of her question, metallic and bright in the quiet of your shop. “Hello? Anyone home?” a cheery voice asks.

“Be right there,” you say immediately, shrugging off Lisa’s hand and stepping out from amongst the shelves. There’s a young woman standing at the checkout counter, rifling through the collection of seeds on display, and you cringe as she replaces a few packets in the wrong spots. “How can I help you?”

At the sound of your voice, the woman turns gracefully on her heel, her expression a perfectly crafted amalgamation of surprise and delight. “{Name}!” she exclaims, stepping forward with an outstretched arm. “Long time no see!”

“N-Nayeon,” you stammer, the shock of seeing her face freezing you in place. “What… what brings you here?”

The dark-haired woman steps forward to pull you into a hug, enveloping you in her fruity perfume. “Would you believe me if I said I wanted to catch up with an old friend?” she asks playfully.

We were never friends, you want to say. In your head, Bast lets out a derisive snort of agreement. Lisa, you notice, has conveniently melted away somewhere amidst the organized chaos of your shop, disappearing into the myriad shelves and knickknacks.

“Plus, I really wanted to look at some flowers,” Nayeon continues, betraying her true purpose at last. “You’ve heard, haven’t you? About my engagement? I’m sure Hoseok—I mean, my fiancé—has mentioned it to you, of all people. You are his best friend, after all.”

The inside of the shop is beginning to feel stifling. Perspiration trickles down your neck and you tug at your collar, loosening the material from where it’s plastered against your skin. “Sure,” you manage, once you feel like you can breathe again. “Right. Sure. The flowers are right this way, if you want to follow me.”

I’d forgotten how much I don’t like her, your familiar remarks dryly in your head.

Shut up, Bast.

Mercifully, he does. There’s a tug on your feet, and you glance down just in time to see him morph out of the shadow you cast against the sun-drenched floor. Ghostly and amorphous at first, he quickly solidifies into the feline figure you’ve grown accustomed to, and slinks protectively around your ankles before darting off to perch in the cushioned bay window seat.

Conveniently, that’s also where the flower display is. Colorful blooms and trailing leaves adorn the wooden shelves and tables in this particular corner of the shop, and you force yourself to shift back into professional mode as you come to a stop in front of an assortment of honeysuckle. “So, what kind of flowers are you looking for?” you ask, brushing your fingers along the pale yellow petals.

Nayeon hums thoughtfully and picks up a potted rosebush, examining it from all angles. “Roses, maybe. Are roses too clichéd now?” She brings the crimson buds closer and inhales, eyes fluttering shut. “No matter. I’ve always liked them.”

“They’re beautiful,” you agree, turning your attention to the selection of roses lining the topmost shelf. “Do you have a color preferen—?”

“Or maybe these would be better,” Nayeon interrupts, plucking up a pale pink calla lily from the bouquet you keep in a table display. “Or that one—what is it?”

You follow the trajectory of her gaze to a bunch of little white flowers with golden centers, stark against the dark dirt and surrounding green foliage. “That would be bloodroot,” you answer. “One of my personal favorites—it’s both ornamental and medicinal. It would look lovely in a bouquet.”

Nayeon pulls a face and shakes her head. “No, no—I don’t want anything with such a horrible name. What about these?” she asks, reaching up to take a closer look at a larger bloom. “Peonies, right?”

By the time Nayeon makes it back to the checkout counter with a few sample rose cuttings in hand, you’re fairly certain that several eternities have passed. “Is there anything else you need?” you ask as you ring her up and wrap the flowers neatly in paper.

“A discount for an old friend?” she queries, shooting you a playful wink. When you don’t answer right away, she giggles. “I’m kidding! Obviously, I’ll pay. It’s not like I’m pressed for money—I mean, you’ve seen who my fiancé is, right? Now gosh, where did I put my wallet?”

Your cheeks are beginning to feel far too hot. Nayeon is still rummaging in her purse, and you quickly duck beneath the counter under the pretense of looking for some ribbon to tie off the bouquet. Fanning your face, you take a few deep breaths, listening as she continues chattering away.

“We’re having dinner tonight, actually, Hoseok and I. It’ll be our second real date, and… wait!” She gasps, and you peer up just in time to see her slap a hand over her perfectly lacquered mouth. “You should come! Bring someone, if you can—it’ll be like a double date!”

If you can? Bast snipes. Curse her.

You sigh inwardly and straighten back up, ribbon in hand. Shut up, Bast.

If you won’t, I will.

You’ll do no such thing.

Mustering up your best, most earnest smile, you hand over the wrapped flowers along with her change. “That sounds like fun,” you tell her, ignoring the way your insides lurch at the lie. “When and where?”

Nayeon beams and rattles off the address of an unfamiliar restaurant. “Don’t be late!” she calls as she heads for the door. The bell jangles cheerily as she departs, and as soon as the door shuts behind her, Lisa pokes her head around a nearby bookshelf.

“Finally,” she sighs, walking over to join you. “I thought she’d never leave.”

Ordinarily, you wouldn’t dare speak ill of a customer, but you’re willing to make an exception today. “You and me both,” you reply, watching as Bast slinks over like a shadow and hops onto the counter beside you. He nuzzles his face into the crook of your elbow in silent solidarity, and you mindlessly begin scratching behind his ears as Lisa speaks again.

“Are you really going to go to that dinner tonight?”

You meet her gaze, shrugging. “I already said I would. Do I really have a choice?”

There isn’t much else to say, and both you and she know it. Pushing off from where she’s leaning against the countertop, Lisa flips her coppery hair over her shoulder and shoots you a look, brown eyes full of sympathy. “Good luck,” she says sincerely. You get the feeling that she wants to say something else, but decides against it at the last minute. Instead, she bids you goodbye and walks out with a wave and another chime of the bell. Silence settles over the shop once more, and you allow yourself a few moments to breathe—slow and deep, in and out—before picking up your phone and opening up the most recent text messages. It doesn’t take long to find the name you’re looking for, but you still pause, thumbs hovering over the keyboard, before you begin to type.

[4:21pm] You: how would you like to join me for a very awkward dinner date?

[4:21pm] Jin: consider me intrigued.

///

You and Jin arrive at the restaurant first. It’s an ornate, palatial place with tuxedoed waitstaff and a coat room, and despite giving the name ‘Jung’ at the door, you’re certain that Hoseok played no part in the venue selection. The host ushers you to a booth tucked in the back, the cushioned seats a velvety burgundy and a chandelier glittering overhead, throwing refracted, iridescent light across the veined marble table. All of a sudden, the simple black dress you’re wearing feels painfully inadequate. Glancing down at your feet, you wonder if you should have worn heels instead.

Beside you, Jin cuts a striking figure in a creamy silk shirt with ribbons that tie into a bow at his throat, the material loose and flowy up until where it tucks into fitted black slacks. His pink hair complements the elegant outfit perfectly, parted and swept off his forehead to reveal his dark brows.

As if reading your mind, he lays a gentle hand on your shoulder. “You look beautiful,” he says, before gesturing at the booth. “Now, do you want the inside or outside? Think you’ll need to make a quick getaway at some point?”

“Probably,” you sigh. Jin nods and sits down first, and you watch him slide across the seat cushion before settling in beside him. “I still can’t believe you volunteered to be here,” you murmur, plucking up one of the folded cloth napkins and fiddling with the crisp white edges. “You’re a saint, I swear.”

Jin chuckles and plucks the napkin from your clasped hands, laying it across your lap instead. “Not a saint,” he says, matching your soft tone. “Just someone who cares about you.”

Your cheeks warm at his sudden proximity. “Thank you,” you tell him, for what must be the umpteenth time. “I can’t even imagine what I’d do without you.”

“Good thing you don’t have to, then,” he replies with a grin. “Now, chin up. They just walked in.”

You can’t help the groan that escapes you. “Is it too late to run?”

“Afraid so,” he answers honestly.

And then Nayeon is slipping into the cushioned seat opposite you, syrupy smile in place on her berry lacquered lips. “Hi!” she chirps, laying a hand on Hoseok’s arm as he sits down beside her. “Sorry we’re late. We, um…” She pauses and shoots Hoseok a conspiratorial look, giggling. “... lost track of the time.”

Your magic flares, hot and bright in your veins, and you know Jin feels it too when he lays a cautionary hand on your knee beneath the table. “We weren’t waiting long,” he says, offering the two a genial smile. He’s perfectly polite as he and Nayeon exchange quick introductions, and gestures toward the assortment of menus on the table as soon as everyone has settled down. “Why don’t we order some wine to start?”

“Oh, that’s a splendid idea! Isn’t that a splendid idea, Hoseok?” Nayeon turns to the auburn-haired man beside her, and you do the same, gaze landing on Hoseok for the first time tonight. He’s in an all black ensemble, sharp jacket layered over a silky black shirt, the top buttons loosened to bare a tantalizing sliver of golden skin. His auburn hair is parted, a stray lock falling across his forehead, and you shiver when you realize he’s staring right back at you with dark, unreadable eyes.

At the sound of Nayeon’s voice, Hoseok seems to snap out of his trance, his expression smoothing out as he plasters on a smile. “Take a look at the menu,” he says, picking up the leather-bound book and offering it to her. “Dinner’s on me.”

You blink. “We can’t let you do that, Hobi.”

“Let me pick up at least part of the tab,” Jin adds, already reaching for his wallet. “I’m no corporate bigshot, but I do well enough for myself.”

“No need to be modest,” you chime in, nudging him playfully. “Weren’t you just telling me about your new restaurant opening on the way over? Next week, right?”

Jin’s ears redden as all the attention is turned onto him. “Next week, yeah.”

“That’s amazing!” Nayeon chirps, pressing closer to Hoseok. “We’ll have to check it out sometime. Maybe a date night, right, darling?”

Hoseok busies himself with rearranging his cutlery, swapping the knife and fork around. “Right—sure. If we ever make it up to Seoul, we’ll, uh… we’ll definitely stop by. Congratulations, man.”

The conversation continues. A server stops by to take your wine order, and Jin decides on a moderately priced bottle of cabernet sauvignon. Glasses are brought over, and wine is poured. Hoseok finishes his quickly and pours himself another, and though his wolf metabolism prevents him from getting drunk off of regular wine, you know that he’s a bit of a lightweight and tends to avoid drinking heavily no matter what the beverage. He’s drinking with a purpose tonight, and you’re beyond grateful when Jin pipes up with yet another story when the conversation lulls.

“And then I found out that the oven was on the whole time! Adam would probably let the entire apartment go up in flames just to spite me—I should watch my back.”

“Or, you know, just watch the oven more closely,” you tease. “I’ve seen your place, Jin—it’s a complete fire hazard. It’s a wonder it hasn’t burned to the ground already.”

Jin sniffs. “You’re exaggerating. Stop making me look bad.”

“You make yourself look bad,” you retort, laughing when his lower lip juts out into a pout.

Across the table, Hoseok clears his throat. “Speaking of fire hazards—did I ever tell you about the time {Name} set me on fire?”

“I did no such thing!” you protest, reaching over to slap his arm. “I mean, okay, maybe a little bit, but that was one time! And you were barely singed!”

Hoseok snorts out a laugh. “Barely singed? I couldn’t sit properly for a week.”

“Oh please, that’s a lie and you know it!”

Nayeon interrupts your conversation with a loud huff, setting her wineglass down with enough force to thud against the veined marble tabletop. “Do one of you maybe want to fill us in on the joke here?”

Abashed, you glance back at Hoseok, watching as his smile slowly fades back into the careful, neutral expression he’s worn all evening. “Sorry,” you murmur. “It’s an old story from when we were kids—when we first met, actually. We were seven years old, and it was the second day of school. I didn’t have a very good handle on my magic yet, and accidentally set Hoseok’s tail on fire during recess.”

“I preferred to run around in my wolf form back then,” Hoseok further elaborates. “There was a big field out behind the school—remember that, {Name}?”

You nod. “Of course. It went right up to the very edge of the woods. And if you kept going and went far enough, you reached the old wooden bridge.”

Hoseok is smiling again, soft and fond. “That thing was a death trap.”

“But the teachers could never keep us away,” you say, grinning at him.

“All right,” Nayeon interrupts again, sniffing disdainfully. “Enough about the old days—I think it’s time to talk about the present. And more importantly, the future.” She sighs happily and props her chin up in her palm, ensuring that the delicate golden band on her ring finger is on full display, the metal glimmering in the warm light. “You’re both invited to the wedding, of course. And I never did properly thank you for the flowers today, {Name}!”

Her words seem to come as a surprise to Hoseok, who straightens up in his seat. “Flowers? You visited Hellebore today?”

“Of course I did!” Nayeon hides a giggle behind a manicured hand. “I wouldn’t even think of trusting anyone else with my bouquet.”

Hoseok’s gaze skitters over to you, awash with concern and tinged with apology, but you ignore him in favor of forcing your expression into something that’s meant to be a smile. Yet no matter how much you strain your cheeks and stretch your lips, it feels—and looks, you’re sure—far more like a grimace.

“I’m happy to do it,” you lie, your teeth gritted and tight. “I don’t mind it one bit.”

///

“So. That was just as awkward as promised.”

You and Jin are walking back to Hellebore, leaving behind the bustling downtown area for the darker, quieter streets of your neighborhood. Your companion’s hair is tinged orange in the glow from the streetlamps, and you can only chuckle humorlessly when he turns to you and raises his eyebrows.

“Can’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“I was duly warned,” Jin agrees.

A car drives by, the headlights throwing Jin’s profile into stark relief. His expression is solemn but he doesn’t say anything else and neither do you. The remainder of the walk passes in silence, broken only by the occasional strain of conversation from passersby and the low drone of late night traffic. You reach Hellebore with no incidents, and you muffle a yawn as Jin steps into the wardrobe to go back to Seoul.

Just before he shuts the door behind him, he shoots you a meaningful glance over his shoulder. “You should tell him how you feel, you know. He deserves to know. And you… you deserve to be happy.”

He doesn’t elaborate, and you don’t need him to. Long after he’s gone, his remark echoes in your head, and no matter what, you simply cannot seem to shake it.

///

It’s been years since you’ve last gone to the old bridge, but after last night’s conversation you find yourself pulled back, lured by the promise of memories of a kinder time. The forest beyond the field hasn’t changed much since your school days, and neither, you realize, has the bridge itself. It still stands tall, proudly spanning the steep ravine that your teachers warned you about, the rickety wood splitting apart at the seams and overgrown with lichen and climbing ivy. Far below, the white-capped river rushes by on its long, turbulent journey to the sea.

Carefully, you step onto the bridge—first one foot, then the other. The energy in the air shifts as soon as your feet leave the loamy earth, finding traction instead on hewn wood, and you sigh as your fingertips brush against the railing. The magic here is an old magic—different from the ancient magic that dwells in places like the werewolves’ clearing and the realms of the fae. The low thrum of it fills the air and seeps into your veins, quickening your pulse and prickling your skin.

“I thought you might be here.” The voice comes from your left, barely audible over the rush of the river.

“You thought right,” you reply, stepping forward until you’re toeing the railing and leaning over to stare down into the swirling, eddying waters below.

Hoseok joins you at the edge. His profile is stark against the leafy green backdrop, and for a few moments, all is still. Then: “I’m really sorry about last night.”

The apology hangs in the silence for a few moments before fading into the sound of churning water and wind whistling through the trees. You suck in a deep breath, oxygen swelling your lungs until you can hold it in no longer, before letting it escape in a resigned sigh.

“You don’t have to apologize to me, Hoseok.”

“Maybe not. But I want to.” He shoots you a sidelong glance. “Will you let me make it up to you?”

You raise a brow. “Make it up to me? And how exactly do you plan on doing that?”

“Anything you want.” Hoseok smiles crookedly, but you can’t quell the tumult brewing in your belly.

“What do you want, Hobi?”

His smile fades. “I—” He stops and shakes his head, auburn hair flying. “It doesn’t matter what I want. This is about you.”

You gaze up at him, taking in the sharp cut of his jawline and the straight angle of his nose. Your eyes trail along the smooth slope of his rounded cheeks and the soft curve of his mouth, lingering on the little mole atop his upper lip.

And then you reach out and take his hand, savoring the way his fingers immediately, comfortably settle into the spaces between your own. “Why don’t we head down to the river?” you ask. “It’s been a long time since we’ve been, and I’ve missed it.”

Hoseok’s expression softens, a glimmer of something bright shining in his amber-flecked irises. Gently, he tugs on your hand, taking the lead as you leave the bridge behind and head north in search of the sloping path that will take you down and into the ravine that houses the riverbed. You chance a few glances over the treacherous edge, watching the water froth and tumble over the rocks.

“You know, this seems a lot more dangerous now than it did back then,” you muse. “I see why our teachers were always trying to keep us away.”

“We were kids back then,” Hoseok says, grinning. “We thought we were invincible. Nothing could touch us.”

“Simpler times,” you agree with a laugh. “I set your tail on fire, you cried—”

“—and then we became lifelong friends,” Hoseok finishes, joining in your mirth. “Easy-peasy.”

Together, you locate the path down to the ravine. The descent is easier than it was back then, your longer limbs extending your reach, but you’re grateful for Hoseok’s steadying hand all the same. He carefully guides you around the biggest rocks and tree roots, pulling you closer when you lose your footing near the bottom. His fingers remain twined with yours even after you’ve safely arrived at the riverbed, stepping across stones that have been worn smooth and warmed by the sun. You slip off your shoes, letting them dangle from your free hand, and Hoseok does the same.

Sunlight glitters off the water, throwing a thousand refractive diamonds across the surface, but when you dip your toes in you find that it’s cold as a mountain spring in autumn. That doesn’t stop Hoseok from bending down to splash you though, and you shriek in surprise before retaliating with a silent spell that sends icy water splattering across the faded denim of his jeans.

“That’s not fair!” he protests. “You can’t use magic!”

“I’m just using every resource available to me,” you reply with a sly grin, sending a swelling wave of water toward him with a lazy twist of your hand.

From beneath his drenched hair, Hoseok raises a challenging brow in your direction. “Oh yeah?”

Before you can even blink, he’s shrugging off his jacket and pulling his shirt over his head, baring a taut, honeyed abdomen and toned arms. Tossing the discarded clothes onto the bank, he unfastens his belt and lets that drop as well, fixing you with a crooked little smirk all the while. The muscles in his torso ripple.

And then he’s shifting—limbs elongating and reddish-brown fur sprouting from his skin. His remaining clothing rips under the strain of the transformation, floating downstream in tattered shreds, but you don’t pay them any mind. No matter how many times you’ve watched Hoseok shift, you’ll never quite get used to it. He hunches over, more beast than man at this point, his chest rumbling. And before you know it—before you can even pinpoint exactly when the transformation is complete—he’s standing before you as a massive russet wolf, baring ferociously sharp teeth that you know could easily tear a man limb from limb.

His eyes, however, remain the same—warm, molten brown flecked with amber and gold, a devilish twinkle lurking in their depths. You cock your head to the side in a silent challenge, and swear that the wolf in front of you grins before pouncing forward, landing in the river with an enormous splash that leaves you thoroughly drenched.

“Now we’re both soaked!” you cry in between giggles, watching as Hoseok emerges from the water, his fur dampened black and dripping. “How is this a win for you?”

Hoseok rears back and lets loose a triumphant howl, shaking himself out and further drenching you with the spray of water from his coat. You squeal and back up several steps, batting him away, but Hoseok just presses closer and nuzzles his wet face into the crook of your neck. His body heaves with every breath, flaring hot against your skin, and for a few long moments, you simply stand there, your arms coming up to wrap around his neck as icy water rushes past your ankles.

After what feels like an eternity, you step back, releasing Hoseok and staring up into his face. Even in his wolf form, he towers over you, and you reach up to stroke his muzzle tenderly before bopping him on the nose. “Come on,” you murmur. “Let’s dry off.”

Hoseok lets out a low rumble of agreement, and together, you make your way back to shore. You fold up his discarded clothing while he trots off to locate his shredded jeans, quickly finding them caught between some rocks and carrying the denim tatters back over to you in his teeth. Shaking your head, you add it to the growing pile and lay a hand atop it. Heat concentrates in your fingertips, mingling with the magic running through your veins. Stitch by stitch, his jeans repair themselves, drying in the process. Hoseok bumps your cheek with his nose in gratitude and darts off to change, and you dry your own clothes while you wait.

When Hoseok returns, he’s reverted to his human form, fully dressed and raking a hand through his damp hair. “Thanks for drying these off,” he says, flashing you a sheepish grin. “And for fixing my pants. Again.”

“Mending charms are easy,” you reply, and it’s the truth. Over the many years you’ve known Hoseok, you’ve mended his clothing countless times—from the accidental transformations in his early years, before he could control it, to the calculated ones as he got older. Hoseok doesn’t shift terribly often nowadays, but on occasion he still goes out to stretch his muscles and hunt with his pack. His grandfather, in particular, always made the time to take him hunting at least once a month. You wonder if he’s gone since he passed, but decide not to ask.

“Should we go see the Towers?” you ask instead.

“Lead the way,” he agrees, falling into step beside you as you head downstream. The ravine walls are higher here, decorated with gnarled roots and rocky outcrops that obscure the periwinkle sky and cast long shadows across the ground. Cairns begin to crop up on both sides of the river—each tower of stones carefully and deliberately stacked. They’re small and scattered at first, but gradually become taller and more frequent until you’re nearly surrounded by a forest of stone. The air grows noticeably heavier—the magic more potent. It almost feels as if electricity is dancing across your skin, the sparks sinking into your pores and melding with your soul.

Hoseok feels it too, if the look of awe in his eyes is any indication. “I can’t believe I’d nearly forgotten about this place,” he marvels, running a finger across one of the stacked stones. “Do you feel that? The magic?” Then he chuckles. “Wait, of course you do. What am I talking about?”

You smile softly, tracing the path his fingertips leave behind. “Yeah, Hobi. I feel it.”

The topmost stones are almost out of your reach now. Reaching into your pocket, you pull out a gray pebble about the size of your palm—a near perfect disc veined with white. Gently, you place it atop the cairn closest to you, watching it glint in the sunlight for a moment before turning to your companion.

“Well?”

Ancient legend dictates that as long as an offering is left, one may take a stone from the Towers. You and Hoseok have each acquired a rather sizable collection during your childhood years, lured by the promise that the stones will bring about good fortune and happiness.

“I forgot to bring something,” Hoseok admits, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. “But I can pick one out for you. Hang on…” He hums thoughtfully as he scans the towering pillars, tapping his chin until he alights on one in particular, plucking up a stone that’s been worn smooth, burnished orange and marbled with ivory and copper. “What do you think?”

“It’s beautiful,” you reply, admiring the way the marbled surface glitters in the sun.

Hoseok takes your hand and places the stone gently in your palm. “It’s yours.”

Then he’s off—stepping over a fallen log to admire another tower, brushing a curious finger across a moss-covered rock before glancing over his shoulder at you. “Coming?”

You nod, tucking his gift away safely in your pocket. Together, you carve out a path amongst the towering cairns, clambering over river rocks and brushing aside the dense undergrowth. The path opens up again gradually, revealing the burbling water to your left and the steep ravine wall to your right. The river is calmer here—clear enough to see all the way to the bottom where shimmering, silvery fish dart about. A low, flat rock juts out into the water a short ways away, and Hoseok strides over to plop atop it, gesturing for you to join him.

“This is nice,” he sighs once you’ve made yourself comfortable by his side. “The fresh air is doing me a world of good. I’ve been cooped up at the office for so long, I swear I almost forgot what trees smell like.”

“You’re more than welcome to sniff around the shop if you ever need a reminder,” you tell him, nudging his shoulder playfully. “Better yet, I’ll bring you a plant for your office. Spruce up the place a little bit.”

“That sounds great, actually,” he admits with a chuckle. “I don’t have your green thumb, though. I’ll probably end up accidentally killing it.”

“Something low maintenance, then,” you promise. “A succulent, maybe. When should I bring it by?”

Hoseok’s expression sombers. “You can always stop by tomorrow after the hearing.”

Your heart plummets into your stomach. The Ministry—the overarching government body that dictates all Shadowfolk affairs—summons every pack alpha for a confirmation hearing when they first come into power. “They’re holding the hearing? Already?”

He nods. “The Ministry’s summoned me for tomorrow morning. First item on their schedule, I’m pretty sure.” A resigned sigh escapes his lips, dissipating into mist on the air. “And there’s a party at JungTech HQ afterward. You know. So my dad can officially hand the reins over.”

“The most powerful man in Gwangju,” you murmur, thinking back to Lisa’s words.

Hoseok lets out a derisive snort. “Yeah, right. The most powerful man, beholden to his dad, the Council, and the entire fucking Ministry. It doesn’t matter what I want to do. Never has.”

It’s the second time he’s dismissed his feelings, and as much as you want to ask what it is he truly wants, you find that the words are stuck in your throat, your mouth suddenly as dry as the desert on a cloudless day. Instead, you lay a silent hand over his, feeling his warmth seep up into your palm.

“Hey.” Hoseok doesn’t tear his gaze away from the sky, watching a flock of birds fly overhead. “Yesterday, when Nayeon said she’d stopped by… did she say anything to you?”

The sound of her name leaving his lips leaves a sour taste on your tongue, but you swallow it down. “Not really,” you tell him. “She looked at some flowers and invited me to dinner. Simple as that.”

Hoseok nods slowly, lips pursed. “Was Jin already there when she came?”

You blink. “Jin? Oh, no—no, he wasn’t. I texted him after Nayeon left.”

“Ah.”

“I’m glad he was free, though.” You stare down into the water, where a curious fish swims in and out of the shadow you cast. “I’m honestly not sure who I could’ve invited if he hadn’t been available. Plus, it’s been ages since I’ve had dinner with him, and it’s been a few months since you’ve seen him too, right? I’m really happy it worked out.” You’re rambling now, but you can’t stop yourself. Hoseok has become eerily still, lost in introspection, and you feel obligated to fill the silence.

“You two make sense, you know.” Hoseok’s voice comes suddenly. “As a couple. Both witches—it makes a lot of sense.”

You peer over at him, eyes widening at his assumption. “We—we’re not actually together, Jin and I. We’re just friends.”

Hoseok straightens at that, his gaze flitting down to meet yours. “Really?”

“Really.”

A beat of silence. Hoseok looks like he wants to say something else, but a quiet buzz from his pocket stops him in his tracks. His mouth clamps shut as he checks his phone, teeth clicking together, and you can tell from the sudden tension in his jaw that it isn’t good news.

“Do you have to head back?”

He nods stiffly, silent apology written all over his face. “Work calls.”

You offer him a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry about me. Go on. I’ll see you tomorrow after your hearing.”

He nods again and turns to leave. Before he can take too many steps, though, you call him back, reaching into your pocket to pull out the stone he’d gifted you earlier.

“Take this,” you murmur, pressing it into his hands. “I’m pretty sure you need it more than I do right now.”

Hoseok’s fingers curl protectively around the stone, holding on like it’s his only remaining lifeline. “Thanks.”

///

Downtown Gwangju is a monochrome forest of towering glass and steel, clamorous and unchecked by nature, proudly defiant in the face of the earth mother herself. The sidewalks are awash with people rushing back from their lunch break, forcing you to dodge around several businessmen too absorbed in their phones. Just as you are finding your footing again, a hapless intern carrying a tray of coffee cups rushes past, nearly crashing into you.

“Oh, shi—sorry! Sorry, oh, jeez. Are you okay?”

You wave off his apology with a smile, taking in the ill fit of his suit and the messy knot of his tie. “Don’t worry about it,” you tell him, reaching out to help him steady the tray in his hands. A stabilizing spell—silently cast, the magic pulsing through your fingertips—should be enough to get him back to his office with no additional mishaps. You wonder if he’ll notice that his tray is suddenly more well-balanced, or that his hands have steadied.

But then again, you suppose it doesn’t really matter whether he does or not.

Somehow, someway, you make it to JungTech without running into anyone else. The receptionist recognizes you immediately and points you toward the elevator with a smile, and you thank her as you press the up button. It doesn’t take long to arrive, and you take a deep breath as you step inside, staring at your reflection in the mirrored walls.

All right? Bast queries, stirring awake in your mind.

You release the breath that you’d been holding in a long whoosh. Yeah. I’m all right.

The doors open on the top floor, and straight away, you are assailed by a cacophony of sounds. Scattered conversations and laughter intermingle with the clinking of champagne flutes. There are at least fifty people scattered around the open space that lies between the elevator and the glass-fronted CEO’s office at the very back—the office that bears Hoseok’s name on the door. There’s no sign of the man himself, but you have no doubt that he’s nearby. This entire party is a celebration for him, after all.

The elevator doors begin to close, and you quickly reach out to stop them, stepping out before it can protest at your dawdling. A young man in a pristine white shirt materializes on your right with a tray full of champagne flutes, and you pluck one off with a murmur of thanks. Sipping slowly, you wander around the perimeters of the party, listening to the lively chatter. Across the room, you spot Lisa, returning her friendly wave with one of your own.

“Hello, {Name}.”

The deep, familiar voice has you whirling around in an instant, head bowing in automatic deference. “Mr. Jung,” you murmur, not quite daring to look him in the eye. “It’s been a while.”

Hoseok’s father inclines his head in acknowledgment, salt-and-pepper hair gleaming beneath the fluorescent lights. No doubt he was a handsome man in his younger days, but the salt in his hair has steadily overtaken the pepper in the last few years, the stern lines around his mouth deepening.

“I didn’t know you would be joining us today,” he says cordially. “But then again, I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised after all these years. Have you been here long?”

“Not long. Five minutes, maybe.” Beneath his piercing gaze, you feel like a small child again. Quickly, you scramble for something else to say, gesturing around the sleek glass interior of the office. “This is a lovely party. You must be so proud.”

Another nod. “I wasn’t sure that Hoseok was going to step up,” he admits. “I had my reservations about whether or not he would accept his duties as a Jung, but he has, and I’m pleased that he did. It’s no easy feat, running this company and leading the city’s pack. But I’ve served my time, just as my father did before me.” His gaze flits down to meet yours suddenly, and you find that you can’t read the emotion swimming in them. “I believe I spotted you at his funeral the other day, did I not?”

You nod, resisting the urge to take a sip from your nearly empty champagne glass as your cheeks warm under the scrutiny. “I was, yes. I’m very grateful to have had the opportunity to pay my respects. He was a great man.”

“That, he was,” Mr. Jung agrees. “Hoseok takes after him in many ways. My father—as great as he was—always had a soft spot for the boy. Coddled him a bit too much.”

“With all due respect, Mr. Jung, I think that’s a grandfather’s job,” you reply with a smile.

That earns you a smile in return, the lines around his mouth easing. After exchanging a few more pleasantries, Hoseok’s father excuses himself to talk to the other guests, and you set off in search of Hoseok himself. You can feel his aura somewhere nearby, strong and steady, but the room is large enough that you cannot pinpoint his exact location. Not for the first time, you curse the fact that you don’t have a werewolf’s sharp sense of smell. No doubt it could easily be as cumbersome as it is helpful, but it would certainly help you right now.

Turning a corner, you are about to continue lamenting your average olfactory system when you suddenly catch a glimpse of familiar auburn hair, afloat in a sea of black suits. Dodging around a sharply dressed businesswoman and ducking beneath a waiter’s serving tray clears your path to Hoseok, and you’re milliseconds away from stepping forward to greet him when you feel it.

There’s an energy emanating from Hoseok, the likes of which you’ve never felt from him before. It’s heavy and commanding and so potent that the air is laden with it, and a cursory glance at the people surrounding him reveals that they feel it too—their gazes lowered, voices hushed and respectful. In his fitted black suit and emerald green shirt, he looks every bit the alpha he is, and you are quickly realizing that you’re not immune to the power radiating off of him. The Hoseok standing before you isn’t the same Hoseok whose tail you set on fire all those years ago. Far from it. The revelation is somehow simultaneously terrifying and thrilling, and your heart leaps into your throat when you notice that he’s waving you over.

As if compelled, you comply, striding forward until you’re standing before him. “Hi,” your murmur, suddenly feeling shy.

Hoseok’s face splits into a smile. “Hi yourself,” he says, and you would have laughed if your insides didn’t feel like they were about to burst.

“I, um. I brought you your succulent,” you tell him, reaching into your bag. There’s a tiny potted jade plant inside, packaged neatly into a box that you open up and present to him. “It’s jade. Easy to keep alive, and easy to propagate too, if you’re inclined.”

Hoseok accepts your gift, his smile growing as he admires the plump green leaves. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”

You shrug and wave off his gratitude, fiddling to clasp your bag shut. “So,” you start, glancing around and gnawing on your bottom lip, completely missing the way Hoseok’s eyes darken as he follows the movement. “It looks like everything went well at the Ministry. Your dad is pleased.”

Hoseok hums, low in his throat. “You talked to him?”

“Yeah, just now.”

“I see.”

He looks like he wants to say something more, but he’s interrupted by a blur of motion and a shrill cry of his name. A moment later, Nayeon is at his side, latching onto his arm and batting her lashes, adorned in a form-fitting red dress and golden jewelry.

“Hoseok! There you are. I’ve been looking all over for you!” Then her gaze alights on you, eyes going wide as if she’s only just noticed your presence. “{Name}, oh my goodness. I almost didn’t see you there, hi!”

“Hello, Nayeon,” you grit out, unable to hide your scowl. You wonder if she spotted it before you hid it behind a large sip of champagne.

Luckily, she doesn’t seem to notice. Her attention refocuses onto a spot behind you, and you watch as her expression lights up, delight etching across her features. “Mr. Jung!” she exclaims. “There’s my favorite future father-in-law. Come and join us—it’s not a party without you.”

Hoseok’s father chuckles lightly, coming forward to stand beside you. “Long time no see,” he jokes, nodding in your direction. “And Nayeon—hello. How are you enjoying the party?”

“Oh, I’m having the loveliest time,” she chirps, simpering up at Hoseok. “How could I not be, when my fiancé is here with me?” Then she smiles—her lips painted the same shade of red as her dress. “But I’m sure I’m nowhere near as happy as you are. You must be beyond excited to spend some quality time with your wife after being busy for so long.”

“I am,” Mr. Jung admits. The severity in his features softens as he seeks out his wife, standing across the room surrounded by friends and extended family. “I’m a very lucky man to have a woman like her.”

Nayeon giggles. “And I’m a lucky woman to have a man like your son. Isn’t that right, darling?”

She tilts her head to look up at Hoseok, who blinks twice in rapid succession, his throat bobbing. “Right,” he says, his voice raspy. “The luckiest.”

And as you turn to engage Mr. Jung in conversation once more, you miss the way his gaze lingers on you.

///

Tuesdays at Hellebore are for brewing. You save bottling for Thursdays—giving your potions and other concoctions ample time to simmer and set—but today, you are hunched over the stove with all four burners turned to different temperature settings, watching over your pots so that they don’t boil over.

A cursory glance out the window tells you that it’s well into the afternoon, the pastel blue sky littered with trailing clouds lit hazy and golden in the sun. You’ve been in the kitchen since early morning, and, desperate for a breath of fresh air, you crack the window open and inhale deeply. Then you turn back to the stove, giving one pot a stir and adding a pinch of burdock root to another.

Wandering downstairs, you head to the greenhouse. The sunlight is brighter here, the air more humid. Inhaling deeply, you breathe in the scent of the hundreds of plants growing inside, before heading for the laburnum tree in the far corner. Carefully, you brush aside the cascading golden flowers, about to gather the dried ones that have fallen to the dirt when there’s a knock on the front door.

“I’m sorry, we’re close—” you say, stopping when you recognize the head of coppery red hair in the window. “Lisa?” Confused, you open the door and let her inside. “What brings you here today?”

“You need to go to Hoseok, now,” she says, foregoing any preambles. “He’s… well, you’ll see. Nayeon’s there right now, but she’s not helping the situation, and...” She sighs. “I’m pretty sure you’re the only one who can help him now.”

All at once, your stomach drops to your toes. “What’s wrong with Hoseok?” you demand. “Is he hurt?”

Lisa shakes her head, red hair flying. “No, he’s fine. I don’t know how much longer that’ll last, though.”

The cryptic response sends your heart into overdrive, pounding against your ribcage like a doomsday drum. Striding over to the bay window, you wake Bast from his nap in a slanted ray of sunlight, scratching behind his black ears and watching as his golden eyes flicker open, pupils going wide when he senses your turmoil.

What is it?

Hoseok, you reply shortly. Beneath your touch, Bast’s ears perk up.

What do you need?

You swallow, hard, and suck in a deep breath. I’m going to open a portal.

It’s a dangerous feat, and both you and Bast know it. Opening a portal requires an immense amount of energy, and maintaining one long enough to travel through is a risk to even the most experienced witches. You’ve heard horror stories of spliced limbs and paralysis, and in some cases, even death.

But for Hoseok, you’re willing to risk it all.

“Lisa,” you say, grabbing your purse and striding back to the front door of the shop. “Can you lock up once I’m gone?”

She nods nervously. “Of course.”

You incline your head in silent thanks. At your feet, Bast is slinking continuous figure-eights around your ankles, betraying his worry at the task ahead. Your own heart feels ready to spring out from your ribcage and onto the sun-drenched floor, but you swallow down your nerves and look down at your familiar once more. Ready? you ask.

Ready, Bast confirms. Be careful.

I will.

Closing your eyes, you begin to visualize Hoseok’s front door, focusing on every little detail you can remember. There’s the scuff in the black paint from when he first moved in and accidentally scraped a table leg against it. There’s the bronze knocker that always hangs slightly askew. The image builds slowly in your mind, coming together like the broken pieces of a puzzle.

The air around you is suddenly much warmer than before, an invisible force sapping away at your strength and weakening your legs. Bast’s energy melds with yours, but it’s barely enough to keep you on your feet. Exhaustion seeps into your bones and steals the oxygen from your lungs. You gasp, chest heaving.

I don’t think it’s going to work. Bast’s voice is a faint whisper in the back of your mind.

It will, you hiss. It has to.

The front door of your shop is beginning to glow white, becoming hazy and amorphous as the edges begin to blur. You spot a splash of black paint coming through the fog, followed by a bronze knocker. A matching handle appears a moment later, growing out of tendrils of mist and solidifying before your eyes.

Sucking in a deep breath, you reach forward to grab it. Slowly, you turn until you can turn no longer.

And then you step through.

The first thing you hear is a low, cavernous rumble—deep enough that you feel it reverberating through your very bones. Then your surroundings begin to come into focus. You’re in Hoseok’s entryway, all your limbs thankfully intact. The relief you feel at your success is quickly eclipsed by worry though, when you see Hoseok himself on the far side of the living room. The look in his brown eyes is nothing short of wild, his white shirt unbuttoned to nearly his navel and his auburn hair sweaty and disheveled.

“H-Hobi?” Your voice is no more than a breath, dissipating in the open air.

“Hoseok.” The new voice has you whirling. Nayeon is pressed against the wall opposite him, her expression harried. “Hoseok, please—“

“Get out,” Hoseok growls, his voice dangerously low. He’s bristling with the same energy as before, the same energy you felt back at JungTech—but this time it’s enough to fill the room and spill out the opened door and into the hallway. You can feel it pulsing against your skin, hot and electric, and know that Nayeon is even more affected from the way her shoulders slouch, her eyes dropping to the floor when he snarls. “Get out, now.”

She does. Nayeon turns on her heel and dashes out, slamming the door behind her and leaving you alone with Hoseok. His eyes are alight with something more wolf than man, his chest heaving with uneven breaths, and it’s all you can do not to shrink back when he turns his full attention onto you. Even from across the room, you can smell the liquor spilled across the coffee table in a dark ooze of fluid, cloying and bitter.

“What are you doing here?” Hoseok asks, his voice cracking on the last syllable. “You shouldn’t be here right now, {Name}.”

“Lisa told me to come,” you whisper. “You’ve been pushing yourself too much, Hoseok.”

Hoseok shakes his head and rakes a frazzled hand through his hair. “You need to leave,” he grunts. Shakily, he reaches out to right the overturned liquor bottle, the pad of his thumb skimming across the shattered edge.

“Let me do that,” you tell him, making to step forward, but Hoseok stops you with a raised hand and a low growl that stops you in your tracks.

“Don’t,” he hisses. “Don’t you dare come any closer to me.”

You shake your head. “Hobi, it’s obvious you’ve been drinking. Let me help you.”

“No!” he snarls, flinching back when you take a step forward. “You need to leave. It’s… it’s dangerous for you here.”

“Dangerous?” Your voice is reduced to a whisper at the severity of his reaction, the energy in the air intensifying until it’s almost unbearable. “Why?”

“Because I’m in heat!” Hoseok spits. He sucks in a deep breath, the air whistling between his teeth, before he lets out an agonized moan and pinches the bridge of his nose. “I’m in heat,” he repeats, reticence dripping from every syllable. “I can’t even fucking think straight, and I’m afraid I’m going to hurt you if you stay. So please, {Name}. Please go.”

“But Nayeon…” you begin, wavering when his eyes flash darkly at the mention of her name. “Or Lisa… I can call her, maybe—”

“No!”

You jump, startled at the volume of his shout.

“No,” Hoseok repeats, softer this time. “Don’t. I don’t want them. I’m—I’m fine.”

The sticky humidity and the pulsating energy flowing through the room tell you otherwise. “You’re clearly not,” you tell him gently, taking another step toward him. “Let me call Lisa. Or maybe one of the other girls in the pack, I’m sure someone can help y—”

“I don’t want Lisa.” Defeat suffuses his tone, his eyes fluttering shut. “I don’t want any of them. I want—fuck.” Hoseok groans and lets his head fall back against the wall, the dull thunk echoing in the stillness. “It doesn’t fucking matter what I want. You need to leave, {Name}. You’re only going to be in danger if you stay.”

For the second time that afternoon, only one word springs to mind. “Why?”

Hoseok groans again. “Because I’m weak,” he mutters hoarsely. “Because I’m weak, and I’m not thinking straight, and if you come any closer to me, I won’t be able to stop myself from pinning you against that wall right there and having my way with you.”

Your breath hitches in your throat. The rippling energy in the air is almost oppressive in its strength, and only grows when Hoseok’s gaze finally lands on you, his pupils blown out and blacker than the night.

“Go,” he entreaties, dragging a frazzled hand through his hair. “Please, {Name}.”

You suck in a deep breath, your lungs swelling and expanding with the newfound oxygen. Then, ever so slowly, you let your gaze flicker up to meet his. “What if I don’t want to?”

Hoseok freezes. Time comes to a standstill, and even the overwhelming energy emanating from him seems to falter. The room is near silent, broken only by your companion’s ragged breathing, his chest heaving beneath the thin white fabric of his shirt. Even from across the room, you can see the sheen of sweat coating his honeyed skin, shining in the light of the setting sun.

“You don’t mean that,” he says at last. “You can’t mean that.”

“I can,” you whisper. “And I do.”

For three agonizingly long seconds, Hoseok remains rooted firmly in place, his throat bobbing harshly. Then, before you can even blink, he’s striding forward—a blur of motion almost too quick for your eyes to follow. He comes to a stop a hair’s breadth from you, one hand reaching up to cup your face delicately, as if you’re made of glass.

“You,” he rasps, “have no idea what you’ve just done.” His thumb traces the swell of your cheek just below your eye, the motion surprisingly tender. Your heart stutters in your chest.

And then he leans down and crushes his mouth to yours.

The rest of the world falls away, dissolving into nothing. Your eyes flutter shut as Hoseok’s hands slide down your sides to curl around your hips, your body melting against his taut frame. He is all you can feel and all you can taste, and you keen helplessly when he grinds against you, his cock hot and hard against your stomach.

The sound seems to awaken something in Hoseok, a cavernous groan erupting from his throat. Pulling away from your mouth, he descends upon the delicate skin of your neck, teeth and tongue blossoming bruises in their wake. Shaky hands find the collar of your shirt, questioning eyes seeking out yours for permission that you happily give. He tugs the garment off almost delicately, his ravenous gaze roving across each bit of newly revealed flesh, and once it’s freed from your head he tosses it aside and sets about doing the same to the rest of your clothing.

Maybe it should feel odd, watching through lidded eyes as Hoseok drops to his knees to pull your jeans down and off your ankles. Maybe you should feel embarrassed, seeing your best friend bury his nose between your legs, delirious bliss etching across his features as he inhales, his strong fingers curling around your thighs to spread you wider. But instead, it feels completely and utterly natural—as if this was always meant to be.

“You smell divine,” Hoseok breathes, slotting himself between your spread thighs and running a fingertip along your lace-covered slit, collecting the considerable slick there and bringing it to his nose. “Fuck, {Name}. Just one whiff, and I can tell that you’re primed and ready for me.”

“Take me, then,” you breathe back shakily, rolling your hips when he slips past the lacy barrier of your panties to find your clit, circling around the sensitive nub until you’re gasping his name.

Hoseok’s gaze darkens to obsidian, his pupils swallowing up the amber-flecked brown of his irises. In one smooth motion, he’s on his feet again, straightening up to his full height as his hands find purchase on your hips. He twirls you around until you’re facing the wall, your palms pressed flat against the woven tapestry hanging there.

“Gorgeous.” A single word, laced with unmistakable awe. Then he’s fumbling with his belt buckle, the metallic clink and tug of a zipper reaching your ears, before he presses against you, clothed chest molding against your bare back. Even through the thin layer of fabric, you can feel the sweltering heat emanating from him, his sweat soaking through the cotton and sticking to your skin. His mouth finds its way to the junction of your neck and shoulder again—teasing at the flesh until you’re quivering—before he begins laying a trail of hot kisses down your spine.

“Wanna fuck you,” Hoseok rasps, tearing your panties away once his lips reach the waistband, the flimsy lace ripped to shreds in his desperate grip. “Want you on your front, want you on your back, want you on my tongue—” His voice drops, rumbling through his chest and sending shivers through your entire body. “Want you. Wanted you for so long.”

And as if to reinforce his words, the velvety head of his cock nestles against the cleft of your backside, hot and slick.

Wordlessly, you arch your back, presenting him with the tempting swell of your rear. A glance over your shoulder reveals the strained clench of his jaw and the bob of his throat, his biceps tensed and his gaze unwavering. His control is undoubtedly dangling by a single thread at this point—a delicate, gossamer thread that’s on the verge of snapping. The delirium of his heat is overtaking his senses, his grip tightening on your hips, and ever so slowly, he begins to press forward until the tip of his thick cock is just beginning to part your walls. Already, the fit borders on excruciating, and your body tenses at the intrusion, stretched to the limit around his thick girth.

Hoseok exhales shakily, his primal instincts warring with his desire to ensure your comfort. Soft lips drop kiss after kiss onto your bare shoulders, your back, your neck—wherever he can reach as he whispers tender praises into your skin. “Breathe, princess,” he encourages lowly. “You can take it—I know you can. You were made for me.”

Obediently, you inhale, focusing on the way your lungs expand and contract as you draw air into them. The pain ebbs away with each breath you take, until all that is left is a low throb of pleasure. Your hips rock back against him, and Hoseok takes it as a sign to push forward once more, parting your walls until he’s fully seated inside you, your body stretched to the limit as you mold around him.

There’s no pain now—only an aching desire for more, more, more. He’s deep enough to reach parts of you that you’ve never been able to explore before—either alone or with other partners—and you moan brokenly when he rolls his hips experimentally. “More, Hoseok,” you whimper. “Please.”

He obliges. One thrust leads into another, the punishing pace he sets fueled by his heady desperation for relief. The full, heavy weight of his cock dragging along your walls ignites every nerve ending in your body, sizzling electricity blazing through your veins. It’s all you can do to plant your palms flat against the tapestried wall, fingers twitching at the woven fabric as Hoseok grabs your hips with enough force to bruise and pulls you back against him in time with his thrusts.

“Look at you,” he says hoarsely. “Love the way you feel, clenching around me like that. My perfect, pretty girl, taking my cock so well. I always knew you were made for me.” He grunts, forehead falling against your back, damp hair matting against your skin as he continues rutting against you. “Always—fuck—knew you were my mate.”

The particularly harsh thrust that follows his raspy declaration sends all coherent thought flying out of your head, taking your surprise along with it. All you can manage is a shuddery whine that vaguely resembles his name, the sound intermingling with the obscene smack of flesh against flesh and the continuous stream of praises Hoseok whispers into your skin.

There’s something building inside you—a dull, throbbing pressure at the point where your body joins with his. He’s still rolling up into you, but each subsequent thrust grows more and more shallow. The realization dawns on your dazed mind all at once, as you feel the growing swell at the base of his cock. Hoseok is rendered near immobile as he finally reaches his high, the entirety of his length sheathed firmly inside your pussy as he spills ropes of white against your fluttering walls. The swelling continues, filling you until you feel fit to burst.

“H-Hoseok,” you gasp. “I can’t. I can’t—you’re going to rip me in half.”

Soothing hands smooth along your sides, warm lips littering kisses onto your bare shoulders. “You can,” he murmurs tenderly. “You were made for me, and I for you. You can take it, princess. I know you can.”

The gentle repetition of his fingertips trailing nonsensical patterns into your skin eases your labored panting somewhat. Beneath his touch, you slowly relax, the pressure in your abdomen abating as his knot begins to subside.

“You did so well.” His voice is no more than a mumble, almost lost in the sweat and slick coating your skin.

You sag against the wall, taking a few moments to catch your breath before slowly easing off of him, the sudden loss leaving your core empty and aching. Gingerly, you turn around to face him, acutely aware of the way your combined juices immediately begin dribbling down your thighs.

“You said I was your mate,” you whisper, almost afraid that the sentiment will disappear if voiced aloud. “Did… did you mean that?”

“Every word,” Hoseok replies, equally soft. “Is that okay?”

A smile blooms across your face. Rising up to your tiptoes, you kiss him again—a soft, reassuring peck that he immediately leans into, seeking out your touch like a flower in the sun. “More than okay,” you breathe, feeling the way his lips stretch upward against yours. “I’m glad, Hobi.”

Hoseok sighs into your mouth, a slow smile settling across his features. “Now it’s your turn,” he says, and in an instant, he’s swept you off your feet, one arm beneath your bent knees and the other around your back. “And I’m planning to take my time with you, princess. You’re not leaving here until I say so.”

You wrap your arms around his neck, crossing your hands at his nape. “Fine by me,” you tell him, earning yourself a wide grin. His lips seek out yours again as he carries you down the darkened hallway and into the shadowy depths of his bedroom, pausing only to nudge the lightswitch on with his elbow. Golden light suffuses the room as he steps forward to lay you on his bed, your back sinking into the plush mattress and dipping further when he joins you. He hovers over you with an arm on either side of your head, and you reach up to trace the vein that lines his biceps with a gentle fingertip, giggling when he gives your bottom lip a punishing nip.

The kiss deepens from there. Hoseok parts your lips and seeks out your tongue with his own, subduing it into compliance. By the time you pull apart, all the oxygen has left your lungs, leaving you flushed and gasping. Hoseok chortles breathlessly and trails down to press a kiss to your navel, before traveling downward until he’s reached your clit. Gently, he wraps his lips around the sensitive nub, rumbling with laughter when you buck against him.

“So needy,” he murmurs. To your displeasure, he straightens back up to kneel between your spread thighs, but your complaint quickly dissolves into thin air when he edges forward until his knee is pressed against your aching clit. Desperate for more friction, you grind against him, your wetness soaking through his jeans in a matter of seconds.

It doesn’t take long for pressure to build up in your belly again, winding tight as a coiled spring. Hoseok is staring down at you, transfixed, and his undivided attention only serves to bring you closer to the edge, teetering on the very brink.

“Look at you.” His voice could almost be described as a purr, if he weren’t so utterly canine in mannerisms and appearance. “Such a greedy little thing, all desperate to get off. You’re making a mess of my new jeans, princess.”

You’re too far gone to care about the teasing lilt that colors his tone. The edge is rapidly approaching, and one last roll of your hips is enough to send you over, your walls convulsing around nothing as you ride out your high.

Hoseok doesn’t wait. In an instant, he’s back between your legs, having moved so quickly you didn’t even see when he’d started or stopped. His tongue darts out to lave at your folds, a growl rumbling through his chest when your hips jump on instinct. Immediately, he tightens his grip, strong arms winding around your thighs and anchoring at your waist to render you helpless in his grasp, only able to take what he sees fit to give.

“How is it that you taste even better than you smell?” Hoseok muses as he leans down to suck your clit into his mouth, lips curling up into a pleased smirk when you gasp out his name. “Cute,” he says, releasing the nub in favor of descending to your drenched entrance instead, flicking his tongue shallowly inside before withdrawing with a chuckle.

“Hoseok—” you begin, only to dissolve into a moan when he sheaths two fingers inside you without any warning, curling them up and in until you’re shaking in his grasp.

“Come for me,” he commands softly. “Go on, let me hear you.”

And you do, chanting his name like a mantra as a wave of pleasure overtakes you. Hoseok’s thumb circles your clit in just the right way to prolong your orgasm, and it isn’t until you’re cringing from overstimulation that he finally relents, descending down to mold his mouth to yours in a searing kiss. His lips part yours, tongue dipping out to explore as he sheds his shirt and shucks off his ruined jeans. His skin, when he presses against you, burns hot as a furnace wherever it touches. Against your stomach, his cock stirs back to life.

He’s gentler this time. Every movement is slow and deliberate and tender as he breaches you, murmuring your name reverentially as he fills you again. Your body bows to his willingly, stretching to accommodate him, and the spike of pleasure that lances through you when he bottoms out is almost enough to send your oversensitive body over the edge again, your walls fluttering around him.

There’s an unmistakable shift in the air when Hoseok starts up a slow rhythm, leaning down to kiss you again. His lips move against yours, soft and tender, before moving past your jugular and down to the crook of your neck, elongated canines scraping against the delicate skin in a silent question. You wind your arms around his neck and nod, giving him his answer. There’s no need for words.

And then his teeth are sinking into the spot he’s so lovingly scoped out, breaking the skin. Your body collapses into a searing orgasm, and the pleasure intermingles with the pain of the bite until you are delirious, rendered boneless in his grasp. Hoseok’s hips stutter, his pace growing erratic as he soothes the wound over with his tongue.

You’re prepared for the swelling this time, but the fullness still manages to knock all the air out of your lungs, bordering on painful as his knot grows. Hoseok quells your whimpers with tender kisses, the instinct to comfort his mate paramount even as he paints your walls with ropes of creamy white. He traces a path from your lips down to where he’s marked and claimed you as his, imbuing your skin with a litany of praises that warm you from the inside out.

“My mate,” he murmurs, reverent. “Finally.”

You lean into his touch with a tired smile. “Finally? How long have you wanted this?”

His lips curl into a smile against your clavicle. “Ages. If I’m honest, I think I fell in love with you the day you set my tail on fire when we were kids. It’s always been you, {Name}. Only you.”

You can’t help it—you need to hear it from his mouth again. “You love me?”

Hoseok chuckles. “Of course I do. My tricky little minx—my perfect, pretty mate. I love you more than anything.” One hand reaches up to caress your cheek, running along the tender skin beneath your eye before cupping the back of your head so he can mold his mouth to yours. “Love you more than I can even explain,” he breathes, punctuating each word with a kiss. His hands blaze trails down the slopes of your body until he finally anchors below the crook of your legs. “So why don’t you let me show you instead?”

And he does. Over and over that night, and in the two days of his heat that follow, he shows you exactly how he feels. Propriety is forgotten, left by the wayside with his scorned fiancé and marriage. He is yours, and you are his.

Consequences be damned.

⇢ aftermath.

also set in this universe:

[myg]

#hoseok #hoseok smut #hoseok x reader #bts smut #bts scenarios #werewolf!au #werewolf au #hoseok scenarios #hobi #jhope #jung hoseok #bts fanfic #bts imagines #bts #witch!au #witch au #friends to lovers #f2l #bts fluff #bts angst #hoseok x you #kpop scenarios #lia writes

[flufffysocks]

let's talk about andi mack's worldbuilding

sorry this took forever to make! i've been pretty busy with school stuff and i kind of lost my inspiration for a bit, but i ultimately really enjoyed writing it! i wish i could've included more pics (tumblr has a max of 10 per post), and it kinda turned from less of a mini analysis to more of an extremely long rant... but i hope it's still a fun read!

i've been rewatching the show over the past few weeks (thanks again to @disneymack for the link!), and i’ve been noticing a lot that i never did the first time around. this is really the first time i’ve watched the show from start to finish since it aired, and it honestly feels so different this time - probably a combination of the fact that i’m not as focused on plot and can appreciate the show as a whole, and also that the fandom is much, much smaller now, so there’s a lot less noise. so the way i’m consuming this show feels super different than it did the first time, but the show itself doesn’t - it’s just as warm and comforting to me as it was the first time around, if not more so.

i think a lot of that can be attributed to andi mack’s “worldbuilding”. i’m not quite sure that this is the right word in this context, to be honest, because i mostly see it used in reference to fantasy and sci-fi universes, but it just sort of feels right to me for andi mack, because you can really tell how much love and care went into constructing this universe. for clarity, worldbuilding is “the process of creating an imaginary world” in its simplest sense. there’s two main types: hard worldbuilding, which involves inventing entire universes, languages, people, cultures, places, foods, etc. from scratch (think “lord of the rings” or “dune”), and soft worldbuilding, in which the creators don’t explicitly state or explain much about the fictional universe, but rather let it’s nature reveal itself as the story progresses (think studio ghibli films). andi mack to me falls in the soft worldbuilding category. even though it takes place in a realistic fiction universe, there’s a lot of aspects to it that are inexplicably novel in really subtle ways.

so watching the show now, i’ve noticed that the worldbuilding comes primarily from two things - setting and props, and oftentimes the both of them in tandem (because a big part of setting in filmmaking does depend on the props placed in it!).

one of the most obvious examples is the spoon. it really is a sort of quintessential, tropic setting in that it's the main gang's "spot", which automatically gives it a warm and homey feel to it. and its set design only amplifies this:

the choice to make it a very traditional 50s-style diner creates a very nostalgic, retro feel to it, which is something that's really consistent throughout the show, as you'll see. from the round stools at the bar, to the booths, to the staff uniforms, this is very obvious. the thing that i found especially interesting about it though is the choice of color. the typical 50s diner is outfitted with metallic surfaces and red accented furnishings, but the spoon is very distinctly not this.

instead, it's dressed in vibrant teal and orange, giving it a very fresh and modern take on a classic look. so it still maintains that feeling of being funky and retro, but that doesn't retract from the fact that the show is set distinctly in modern times.

of course, this could just be a one-off quirky set piece, but this idea of modernizing and novelizing "retro" things is a really common motif throughout the show. take red rooster records. i mean, it's a record shop - need i say more? it's obviously a very prominent store in shadyside, at least for the main characters, but there's no apparent reason why it is (until season 2 when bowie starts working there, and jonah starts performing there). a lot of the time, though, it functions solely as a record shop. vinyl obviously isn't the most practical or convenient way of listening to music, but it's had its resurgence in pop culture even in the real world, mostly due to its aesthetic value, so it's safe to say that it serves the same purpose in the andi mack universe.

the fringe seems to be nostalgic of a different era, specifically the Y2K/early 2000s period (because it's meant to be bex's territory and symbolic of who she used to be, and its later transformation into cloud 10 is representative of her character arc, but that's beside the point). to be honest, exactly what this store was supposed to be always confused me. it was kind of a combination party store/clothing store/makeup store/beauty parlor? i think that's sort of the point of it though, it's supposed to feel very grunge-y and chaotic (within the confines of a relatively mellow-toned show, of course), and it's supposed to act as a sort of treasure chest of little curios that both make the place interesting and allow the characters to interact with it.

and, of course, there's andi shack. this is really the cherry on top of all of andi mack's sets, just because it's so distinctly andi. it serves such amazing narrative purpose for her (ex. the storyline where cece and ham were going to move - i really loved this because it highlights its place in the andi mack universe so well, and i'm a sucker for the paper cranes shot + i'm still salty that sadie's cranes didn't make it into the finale) and it's the perfect reflection of andi's character development because of how dynamic it is (the crafts and art supplies can get moved around or switched out, and there's always new creations visible).

going back to the nostalgia motif though, the "shack" aspect of it always struck me as very treehouse-like. personally, whenever i think of treehouses, there's this very golden sheen of childhood about it, if that makes sense. i've always seen treehouses in media as a sort of shelter for characters' youthful innocence and idealistic memories. for example, the episode "up a tree" from good luck charlie, the episode "treehouse" from modern family, and "to all the boys 2" all use a treehouse setting as a device to explore the character's desire to hold onto their perfect image of their childhood (side note: this exact theme is actually explored in andi mack in the episode "perfect day 2.0"!). andi shack is no exception to this, but it harnesses this childhood idealism in the same way that it captures the nostalgia of the 50s in the spoon, or the early 2000s in the fringe. it's not some image of a distant past being reflected through that setting; it's very present, and very alive, because it reflects andi as she is in the given moment.

some honorable mentions of more one-off settings include the ferris wheel (from "the snorpion"), the alley art gallery (from "a walker to remember"), SAVA, the color factory (from "it's a dilemna"), and my personal favorite, the cake shop (from "that syncing feeling").

[every time i watch this episode i want to eat those cakes so bad]

these settings have less of a distinctly nostalgic feel (especially the color factory, which is a very late 2010s, instagram era setting), but they all definitely have an aura of perfection about them. andi mack is all about bright, colorful visuals, and these settings really play to that, making the andi mack universe seem really fun and inviting, and frankly very instagrammable (literally so, when it comes to the color factory!).

props, on the other hand, are probably a much less obvious tool of worldbuilding. they definitely take up less space in the frame and are generally not as noticeable (i'm sure i'll have missed a bunch that will be great examples, but i'm kind of coming up with all of this off the top of my head), but they really tie everything together.

for example, bex's box, bex's polaroid, and the old tv at the mack apartment (the tv is usually only visible in the periphery of some shots, so you might not catch it at first glance) all complement that very retro aesthetic established through the settings (especially the polaroid and the tv, because there's really no good reason that the characters would otherwise be using these).

besides this, andi's artistic nature provides the perfect excuse for plenty of colorful, crafty props to amplify the visuals and the tone. obviously, as i discussed before, andi shack is the best example of this because it's filled with interesting props. but you also see bits of andi's (and other people's) crafts popping up throughout the show (ex. the tape on the fridge in the mack apartment, andi's and libby's headbands in "the new girls", walker's shoes, andi's phone case, and of course, the bracelet). not only does doing this really solidify this talent as an essential tenet of andi's character, but it also just makes the entirety of shadyside feel like an extension of andi shack. the whole town is a canvas for her crafts (or art, depending on how you want to look at it. i say it's both), and it immensely adds to shadyside's idealism. because who wouldn't want to live in a world made of andi mack's creations?

and, while it's not exactly a prop, the characters' wardrobe is undoubtedly a major influence on the show's worldbuilding. true to it's nature as a disney channel show, all of the characters are always dressed in exceptionally curated outfits of whatever the current trends are, making the show that much more visually appealing. i won't elaborate too much on this, because i could honestly write a whole other analysis on andi mack's fashion (my favorites are andi's and bex's outfits! and kudos to the costume designer(s) for creating such wonderful and in-character wardrobes!). but, i think it's a really really important aspect of how the show's universe is perceived, so it had to be touched upon.

[^ some of my favorite outfits from the show! i am so obsessed with andi's jacket in the finale, and i aspire to be at bex's level of being a leather jacket bisexual]

and lastly, phones. this is a bit of an interesting case (pun intended), because the way they're used fluctuates a bit throughout the show, but i definitely noticed that at least in the first season terri minsky tried to avoid using them altogether. these efforts at distancing from modern tech really grounds the show in it's idealist, nostalgia-heavy roots, so even when the characters start using their phones more later in the show, they don't alter the viewer's impression of the andi mack universe very much.

so, what does all of this have to do with worldbuilding? in andi mack's case, because it's set in a realistic universe and not a fantasy one, a lot of what sets it apart from the real world comes down to tone. because, as much as this world is based on our own, it really does feel separate from it, like an alternate reality that's just slightly more perfect than ours, which makes all the difference. it's the idealism in color and composition in andi mack's settings that makes it so unmistakably andi mack. even the weather is always sunny and perfect (which is incredibly ironic because the town is called shadyside - yes, i am very proud of that observation).

the andi mack universe resides somewhere in this perfect medium that makes it feel like a small town in the middle of nowhere (almost like hill valley in 1955 from "back to the future"), but at the same time like an enclave within a big city (because of its proximity to so many modern, unique, and honestly very classy looking establishments). it is, essentially, an unattainable dream land that tricks you into believing it is attainable because it's just real enough.

all this to say, andi mack does an amazing job of creating of polished, perfect world for its characters. this is pretty common among disney channel and nickelodeon shows, but because most other shows tend to be filmed in a studio with three-wall sets, andi mack is really set apart from them in that it automatically feels more real and tangible. it has its quintessential recurring locations, but it has far more of them (most disney/nick shows usually only have 3-4 recurring settings), and it has a lot more one-off locations. it's also a lot more considerate when it comes to its props, so rather than the show just looking garish and aggressively trendy, it has a distinctive style that's actually appropriate to the characters and the story. overall this creates the effect of expanding the universe, making shadyside feel like it really is a part of a wider world, rather than an artificial bubble. it's idealism is, first and foremost, grounded in reality, and that provides a basis for its brilliant, creative, and relatable storytelling.

tl;dr: andi mack's sets and props give it a very retro and nostalgic tone which makes its whole universe seem super perfect and i want to live there so bad!!

#andi mack #buffy driscoll #cyrus goodman #jonah beck #tj kippen #tyrus #ambi #bex mack #analysis #film analysis #disney channel

[alchemabotana]

Horoscopes for the Full Moon in Capricorn June 24th 2021

Antonina “Little Thunder” Whaples

@whaplesantonina

If you enjoy these horoscopes, please consider supporting by voting for me as Ms. Health and Fitness 2021 for Muscle & Fitness Hers Magazine. You can vote once every 24 hours for free. If I win, I am donating the proceeds to herbal medicine school scholarships. To vote: https://mshealthandfitness.com/2021/antonina

Strawberry Moon - Pen & Ink Sketch by Antonina Whaples 

Horoscopes for the Full Moon in Capricorn June 24th 2021

Strawberry Moon

This lunar Opening in Capricorn June 24th 2021 is a cry of righteousness on the hilly planes of our spiritual landscapes. With this meregoat’s lunation, we will experience the inherent benefits of the systematic work we’ve done since 2018, with a special emphasis on decisions made to change personal system errors. The Gods of karma are smiling at our intentions and efforts, and rewards will be reaped by those who invest in self discovery. Our ritual work has been seen and blessed in the Summer Solstice shifts by the spirits of the Land. If you listen closely on this strawberry moon, you may just hear the call of the Cosmic tricksters as they work their mojo on the psychopomp of Earthly frustrations. When you’re feeling the pull of your natal oppositions this moon, tune into the tendons of your actions and see where the motion stems from. You may be relieved to find that the strings that once pulled your puppet are made of finer ancestral threads and your permission to be free was always there. When you check into the Cosmic Chess Board you may find something of a rubix cube has emerged in your new dimensional awarenesses. Instead of throwing yourself into the equations necessary to unlock this next level, revel in the achievements that brought you to this very moment. In a cosmic landscape where the processes of life and death have been hyper focused in our collective consciousness it feels rebellious to change the font and type settings of the ancestral notepads in our minds. Representing the waters that run deeply within the Earth, Capricorn’s fullness in the night sky will illuminate various Spirits whose presence have been well established, but not necessarily recognized. A sign of the power of mental affirmation, your thoughts and words will hold a special magic in this moment. Remember that your Guides, Spirit Animals, Power Totems, Good Medicine Ancestors, and the Spirits of the Land are excellent translators, and with Mercury about to pop out of retrograde (watch out for its shadow til June 30th), its final lesson is one of the personal spiritual variety. When what we seek is Truth & Justice, we allow our souls to attune to protective forces that help us autocorrect, fold into origami, and transcend with temperance.

Aries:

It’s no surprise that an old tune holds the secret code from that earlier recording of the master tape your memory has been searching for in the old filing system. In these moments you realize just how deep and densely tracked the highways and byways of your mental system are. You’re the original wayfinder of your own uncharted territory of the mind. This state of curiosity opens you up to spiritual healing that aligns your personal ideals and values with the actions a person desires to embody. When your actions meet your words, you tend to feel the most at home in the grander machinations of Spaceship Earth.

I’m not sure if I’m feeling funky or groovy, jazzy or bluesy? Does it jive with you? Is it feeling all right? What songs have got you buzzed on this full moon night? I’m enjoying the humour of the human experience, and I find ways to incorporate positive sources of enjoyment into my daily routine. I recognize that I can be sensitive to the frequencies I consume mentally, and I’m manifesting sources of comedic gold into my awareness. I can be my own clown, and enjoy an inside-inside joke anytime my mind decides that laughter is the best medicine. I love to laugh, and allow myself this simple pleasure in life. 

Taurus: 

Saturn in Aquarius square Uranus in Taurus has been creating a nuanced ping-pong table in your mind. This influence has been upon your daily life for sometime, and shall continue on through the rest of the year, with another exact square in December 2021. Accept the exactness of this T-squared engineer level measurement on the corners of your ascension blueprints. It’s ok to look at the world from your own angles, and you may be happily surprised by the moments that unfold joyously when you use your sharpness to hone the hedges of your self doubt. There’s a special magic in this moon for you, as the meregoat lights a part of the puzzle we wanted to get done anyway. This refocused energy gives you the internal resources to wait to make your next move, even though the ones you’ve planned are quite clever already, when mercury rx clears you’ll have fine tuned your intel.

I give in to the epic bonestructure of my cosmic face in the universe. I know that on these edges are where the hedgerows grow. In these sanctuaries of my boundaries, I give spaces for things I truly want to cultivate to be engendered. I find which spaceships are allowed to dock at my intergalactic port of plenty, and make sure that my shields are up when psychic frequencies intend to disrupt my qi. When I breathe, I give space to the energy around myself, and I feel permission to let go. When I let go, I allow myself to accept instructions in the forms of feelings and intuitions. I do not allow the opinions or voices of others to upset my internal compass. I feel centered and grounded and know I will continue to make positive choices and believe in myself. I choose to honor myself, and that makes me feel good. 

Gemini: 

You’ve been carefully funneling resources into a variety of investments. Financial and interpersonal projects and alliances deepen, although it is not a time to throw caution to the wind. Caution and planning is what has allowed you to learn to trust the ebb and flow of the cosmic money winds, and you’re trying to siphon your own renewable sources, not steal from the Gods. When you place yourself in alignment with your internal resources, you can learn to embody compassion to provide yourself when feelings of self worth or insecurities prod you to feel guilty about the ways you regenerate. Let your conscience be your guide, and allow others to do the same. The path of self acceptance is most rich for you at this juncture, and it would be wise to use the Full moon to clear the psychic debris of your aura through ritual bathing, sound healing, and aromatics. 

I can sometimes turn my mirrors askance to the equations I cannot seem to readily solve. But, in doing so I lose reflections that empower me. I accept that it's time to look at some of those patterns again and see if they even deserve a place on the chalkboard of my mind. When I make space to use my memory card to run programs that make me have feelings I actually enjoy, I look into my secret box of fantasies and realize I may have already realized many of those experiences. In these moments of clarity, I hold a space for myself to enjoy what I may not have allowed myself to in the past. In this way, I take back my energy and transform myself in the present. 

Cancer:

In this moon you are finally able to feel that rebound-snap! Ka-bow! sh-zing! of Mars’ exit from your cozy airbnb. You’re reminded that you should be charging premiums for your ability to stay level-headed when the Gods and Goddesses war in the Heavens, and on Earth. You enjoy a good ritual bath, but to stay out of hot waters, this crab needs a cool-down. This Capricorn Moon is just what the doctor ordered, and something about the good medicine flowing through you can’t help but seep into certain streams where the mojo is most needed. This is an excellent time for you to pause in your personal space and take a moment to feel the beauty of your domain.

My soundtrack of life is a high luxury five star bathhouse of the Spirits. I’ve been Spirited Away to lands of emotional remembrance. The roots of my ancestors have spoken to me, and I have heard their instructions. I need not fear the judgments of others, because I am a sacred part of creation. I will not allow negative voices to infiltrate my consciousness, but instead, I will choose to believe that my work has been blessed by the Cosmic Super Computer and shall continue to have its content prioritized. In this space of trust, I allow myself to turn my consciousness to what I’ve relegated as “frivolous artistic pursuits”. I find the time and space to make something just because. When I experience this energy releasing through the act of creation, I realize why it mattered in the first place. 

Leo: 

The grass is pretty green in your patch. Both career aspirations and spiritual wealth appear to be presenting itself to you in all new fashions. You may literally be feeling called to new ways to express yourself externally, and this exploration of your presentation to the world helps you heal. You’ve been feeling called to healing in general, feeling like it may be a good time to start a new way of moving, or to add a healing ritual to your daily experience. If you happen to use stone medicine, Turquoise will be especially healing in nature during the transit of Mars through Leo, and can be just the cooling mechanism you need to keep your Roar without the bite.

Sometimes I’m just feeling high octane. When I find the right stomping grounds to release my charge I am able to do so safely through friendly communication strategies, good topics of conversation, interesting objects within my spacial periphery, and calming colors. It’s ok to turn the volume all the way up, but when the outside world adjusts its tone to match, I can switch to a different groove. I’m in awe of my co-creative power to engage my environment and use my influence therein to bring forth collective healing experiences.

Virgo: 

Something about this moon in Capricorn feels familiar to you, and perhaps it's the quiet watch you’ve held & the prayers of your heart being answered. Your physical being is finding ways to heal through your insights to your movements in daily life. As your mind/body/spirit awareness grows, you find new ways of expressing yourself. This ability to shift and transform might seem like deja vu, but it's your memories finding their way to the surface. When our minds give us abstract feelings and visions, we can move mountainous emotions safely within our systems, without harming ourselves or others. Breathe deeply and find a place to scream loudly if you need that release.

I have crossed some barren deserts, but I have not died of thirst. I am blessed with the life I have co-created in the spiritual planes of my intelligent manifestations. My awareness of the barren corners of life have given me compassionate reflective capacity and a recognition of my gifts by those whose opinions matter to me. I am enjoying the small moments of joy and call them precious to me. I forgive myself for any moments where I’ve expected too much of myself while I was grieving a loss. My heart is tender, and my spirit gentle. I wish to live in harmony with myself and others. 

Libra:

This Capricorn moon you are more annoyed than usual at laundry, other people’s messes, and scapegoating. Your sensitivity to physical objects is heightened under this Full Moon and it may feel overwhelming to be in the midst of the messes others leave for you to clean up. It’s more than frustrating when you acknowledge how your time/energy has been appropriated. Instead of letting loose the fire brigade when the bridge seems to be burning, walk away from the moments today that feel like a temptation. Make sure to find objects that reflect healthy energy back to you, and sit amidst a tiny oasis of your creation, and pay no attention to chaos of the Gods. You deserve a Full Battery, and the spirits are conspiring to recharge your battery banks this lunation.

I gather strength from my service to my community. When I have been unbalanced in the past, I allow my weight to ground in all directions through the sacred communions of my own secret tabernacles of the human experience. I make new covenants with myself and the way I speak and treat myself, so that I no longer need to suffer under the weight of the past. I don’t need to feel any guilt in laying down my load, and don’t need any permission to do so. When I feel safe, I will allow those who I trust to provide the respite necessary for me to heal my visions of my life and expand into an abundant awareness of how truly loved I am for being myself, and how needed my cosmic ray of intellect is to this world. 

Scorpio:

Known for your secrets and depth, you’ve been hiding like the Cosmic Sphinx between the pillars of the temple gates. You’ve been allowed to watch the clashes of the Giants unscathed, and your insight will outlast this passing phase of planetary tensions. You’ve been sending alien text messages to Neptune’s work phone, and the intel has been legit. Your attraction to Art, Color, Shape, Form, Music, and Theatre are encouraging you to make insightful investments in your own dreams. This Full Moon beckons you to create with abandon and let the waves of inspiration quench your desire for pleasure. 

I feel like the whole choir singing in one unison. I weave through the soundwaves, key changes, and rhythm switch-ups as I keep time with the sacred union of celestial sounds. I am aware that the tunes of the planet herself offer me a sacred respite from the cacophony of the cosmic movements. When I ground myself into the soothing waters of my spiritual essence I define for myself how my energy is used for the goodness of my own healing. 

Sagittarius: 

It feels like you’ve been getting along pretty well with the planetary forces, and everyone secretly enjoys the protection that your bow provides for the tribe. You may be feeling a bit cramped in the yellow submarine of the pandemic, dare we say you could have cabin fever? The Trines, Sextiles, and satellite signals of the skies indicate that you can find a special type of relief from the feelings of squished with mandalas, botanical drawings, and spirographs. When you take the time to let your mind journey in these ways, it lets your hunter’s mind relax for the next best chance. And no worries, you’ve got plenty of chances ahead, Sagittarius. 

Life is good. I do my hair toss, check my nails - baby how you doing? Hey, life is good. He’s got his eye on the sparrow and I guess that’s me? I’m playing with the chemistry... cause that’s how I be? When I look into the mirror I see a babe, a real dude of the neighborhood - my sister, mothers, daddy, and the community. I guess when I see you, I see me. And when I’m in that light in me, and you are in that light in you. There is only one of us: namaste my bissssssch 

Capricorn: 

This Full Moon in Capricorn you endeavour to ask outloud: “What Giant’s Bones Have We Built Ourselves Upon?” Your Full Lunation is opposing the Sun in Cancer, shining a shadow on our collective exoskeleton. This Full Moon feels like an archeological discovery when proverbial bones rattle out of the closet to give us a hoodoo prayer’s chance for self liberation. You’ve been waiting for a moment like this, and it's OK if you’re not ready to take that leap of faith. But should you choose, the moon lights up an emotional healing around the concept of “home”. You really want to know if you’re believing the right thing from one moment to the next, but keeping your head out of the secret sauce is key to giving your subconscious the space it needs right now to send out signals to the future. Soon enough you’ll be receiving confirmations of cosmic flavors right into your spiritual inbox.

I called Stephen Hawking and he called me back. My voicemail said: “Hey friend. I know this is a hard time on planet earth. I think people are doing better than they believe they are. It’s hard to be a human. I remember the constraints of the body, and I understand when you want to just fly away somewhere. I believe in you. Capricorns get a bad rap sometimes. I can see your progress, and I hope you take the time to see it too. By the way, we always have the time to say how much we matter to each other. Thanks for being, and enjoy this life, you deserve it”. 

Aquarius: 

There have been a lot of light bulbs going off in your spiritual laboratory. This Full Moon when the light shifts, your awareness of the dimensionality of the objects and purpose of your life is heightened. You may be experiencing some grief and loss around feelings of closeness with others. Recently you’ve been asked to hold a deep stability for the collective’s growth. Your actions haven’t gone unnoticed, and you’ve been receiving opportunities for advancement in your career. However, you are feeling uncomfortable with commitment while under a deep pressure to perform. These archetypal struggles are up for healing on the altar of the Full Moon. Your magic fairy dust works the best when you sprinkle it on yourself. You are learning the ways of Illuminated Prosperity.

My voice is a symphony of grace within a cacophony of sound. I breathe in the knowledge that my very existence is a miracle of my own embracing. I find myself at home in my surroundings and know I belong. Whoever “They” are, I know I can be myself around “Them”. I trust that my instincts are perfected beyond doubt. I’ve taken all the tests and quizzes and my insights are showing precision on whichever experiments have survived my tests of time and spirit. When I tune into my highest self it's because I’m recognizing my ability to be in that place no matter what surrounds me. Even when my circumstances deny me, I do not deny myself. I believe that I am worthy of the life I am living, and anticipate my surroundings shifting to match the unique vibrational fingerprint that I offer planet Earth. 

Pisces: 

You’ve been holding down some major spiritual territory during the recent seasonal shifts. The light of the meregoat acts as a lighthouse beacon for the whales and whistleblowers of your waters. You’re not particularly interested in that island, and prefer to spend this Lunation in Capricorn Gardening, Cleaning Out the Car, Writing about your art, Feeding the fairies, Calling in positivity, Releasing the Past, Testing New Grounds, and let’s just say it: looking pretty guuuuuuud while doing it. So good. You might want to tune into some whale call noises, or turn on a beachy video. The seas are definitely calling your name, and your inner explorer could watch Moana a few times through the eyes of the grandmother, the eyes of Moana, and the eyes of Te Fiti. 

I am a sound rising on the waves of creation. I turn my eyes to the heavens and I’m in the medicine nation. I forgive myself for all my wavering, I know my power lies in my cravings. I can wish upon the starry skies, and watch the birds where e’er they fly. I’m curious to know the names of all the fairies, and their games. I want to know what games I’ll win when I’m laughing with a cheshire grin. I know what gods have sent me here, I know which path I’m meant to clear. And when the waters run to quickly, or the bushes get too prickly - I can lay my spirit down. My minds’a palace, my head a crown. You could call me king or queen, but my magics’still unseen. I’m so much bigger than my titles, or whichever ones I didn’t get. I’ve given all at my recitals, and I’m my own best bet. 

#shaman #shamanism #horoscope #capricornmoon #aires #taurus #gemini #cancer #leo #virgo #libra #scorpio #saggitarius #capricorn #aquarius #pisces #astrology #wellness #affirmation #mentalhealth #traumainformed #safespace #laughteristhebestmedicine #laughter #joy #fullmoon #psychic #rootworker #hoodoo #voudou

[wizardouxie]

Can you the mini story format for Morgana and Merlin surviving Wizards headcanons? With Merlin being a father to Douxie and Nari?

PROMO TIME; basically @sammyheroes​ has a lovely fanfic where Morgana and Merlin survive and I think it’s something you’d like very much! In fact I believe it just got recently updated too. Here’s the link to it if you want to check it out >>

I will still do the mini story format but you know, content creators help each other, so yeah!

Sky Trips and Pit Stops

So of course the current objective is to keep Nari safe and as far away from the Arcane Order as possible

But the flying ship isn’t quite as fast as the gyre

Thus leading to many, many pit stops

In that time Morgana and Merlin get new clothes that are much more akin to the current times

Douxie gets a funky new hat

And they cut two holes in a beanie for Nari to hide her hair in

The antlers stick out, but eh good enough

Plus the place they’re headed? It’s always bustling so no one’s even going to notice

They learn about McDonalds for the first time

The employee at the front is about to throw hands at Merlin

YOU CAN’T JUST ORDER FIVE DIFFERENT MEALS AND THEN CANCEL IT ALL

Douxie with his past knowledge of retail saves the day thank god

Morgana settles for just the fries; everything else seems too complicated

Introducing Nari to soda is a mistake

Afterwards they argue about who gets to pilot the ship while everyone else sleeps

Merlin insists that he should as their guardian

Douxie argues that he struggles sleeping anyways due to his previous commitments to school so it’s fine

Morgana just feels bad for the troubles she caused since Eternal Night

After a lot of bickering Nari sighs and just swats their hands away before grabbing the steering rod

“I’ll take care of it”

And they’re a little conflicted cuz like um... she’s the one they’re trying to protect

But then they remember she’s a nature goddess capable of ripping souls apart like Bellroc and Skrael sooooo yeah she can do it no need to fight

A Father’s Love

Ready the tissues it’s about to get emotional in here

Merlin reminisces the time when he took in Douxie and Morgana as apprentices

He dearly misses those days, back when things were much simpler

They were (and still are) such beautiful and innocent souls, ready to accept magic just the way magic had accepted them

He remember having that love for mystical things as well

But as the years passed it was fear that others held that binded him and his apprentices

There are many facets to fear - it can prolong life, it can set up one too many limits, and it can take you down a path you can’t return from

But Merlin didn’t experience true fear until he saw the lifeless bodies of his two beloved apprentices

It couldn’t be them...

He remembered begging the Fates, waving his broken staff at the sky

He’d take a blow from Excalibur for the next thousand years if it meant he could restore their lives

They were too young to go so quickly

He snaps back to reality when Nari tugs on his beard

“What was that for?!”

“Even with the distortion and overdrive you didn’t move a muscle!”

“Please never allow Douxie to do that again, it sounds horrid,”

Merlin stares at the guitar, well technically his staff, and smiles

He forgot, Douxie has his own staff

He’s a master wizard, just like Morgana and him

How times have passed

“I cherish you both,” he mumbles, but the others catch it

“Huh?” “What for?”

“Nothing. Can’t an old man simply cherish his family?”

Douxie is down for the sappiness, Morgana is not

She grabs her staff and points it at him threateningly

"Who are you and what have you done to Merlin?”

Fourth Wheel

Don’t read Nari the wrong way, she’s absolutely delighted that Morgana, Douxie, and Merlin are one happy family

But she also sort of feels lonely and a little out of place

Like she doesn’t belong there

And in a way she...

She misses Skrael and Bellroc

To be fair they weren’t always trying to end the world!

They believed in balance and life, not death and retribution

And they had their share of familial ties and enjoyable experiences

She wonders where all the joy and happiness went

Just to clarify she doesn’t want to rejoin them

Though that’s an option they’d prefer more instead of taking her by force

Which reminds her...

She’s just bringing the others danger by her very presence

She feels terribly guilty for it

This entire flight across America

Leaving their friends and home behind

They’re doing all of it because of her

Meanwhile Merlin senses a discomfort in her aura

And approaches her

“Is there something troubling you Nari?”

She shakes her head

“It’s nothing,”

"That’s nonsense and you know it” he deadpans

Nari starts frowns... and then she sniffles.... and now she’s crying

Morgana and Douxie look at him in bewilderment and he glares back with a look that says I didn’t make her cry!

He takes her into his arms and holds her, shushing her gently when she keeps mumbling sorry

"We should be sorry, if we had known you were so disheartened we would have had found something to cheer you up.”

#i kinda struggled with this so i'm sorry if it didn't turn out the way you liked it :(( #toa #tales of arcadia #toa wizards #tales of arcadia wizards #hisirdoux casperan #hisirdoux #douxie #merlin #morgana #morgana pendragon #morgana le fay #arcane order #nari #bellroc #skrael

[grailfinders]

Fate and Phantasms #76: Mordred

Today on Fate and Phantasms, we’re making the Knight of Treachery, Mordred! This build gets a little funky, but by the end of it you might just have enough martial prowess to make your dad notice you. Might.

Check out the build breakdown below the cut, or his character sheet over here!

Race and Background

Mo’s a Homunculus, an artificial human that grows and dies quickly. That’s not really a human, but we need a feat some time before level 9, so Variant Human will have to do. This gives him +1 Strength and Charisma, Acrobatics proficiency to make up for low dexterity, and the Tough feat for two extra hit points every time you level up. Your favorite solution to problems is beating them into submission- best make sure you can outlast them.

Despite how you left the order, you were still in it for most of your life, making you a Knight of the Order and giving you Persuasion and History proficiency.

Stats

From highest to lowest: Mordred’s a “Might makes right” kind of guy, so make sure you’re right all the time by making your Strength as high as possible. Your Constitution is also going to be pretty high; getting out of the way of attacks is for weaklings. Your Charisma is also pretty strong; you’d be an inspiring king if someone would give you a chance. Your Wisdom isn’t too great, looking for things is fine, but you’re a bit emotionally stunted. Your Dexterity’s a bit low, nobody ever taught you the value of dodging. Finally, dump Intelligence. You’re not stupid, but you haven’t had much practical experience.

Class Levels

1. Paladin 1: Like most members of the round, you’re a Paladin. At first level, you have proficiency in Wisdom and Charisma saves, as well as Athletics and Intimidation. You have Lay on Hands, a pool of HP equal to 5 times your paladin level you can use to heal yourself (or others, I guess) as an action. The pool refills on long rests. You also have a Divine sense, letting you spend an action to sense celestials, fiends, or undead within 60′ of you. A surprisingly high number of your fathers can be put in that category, so it’s somewhat useful.

Since we’re starting out here, we’ll also talk gear: Heavy armor would be more in-character, but it’ll quickly become a problem. I’d keep it on the heavier side of medium armor. Also, Clarent is a pretty great sword, let’s call is a Great-Sword.

2. Paladin 2: Second level paladins get a Fighting Style, and Great Weapon Fighting will help make Clarent just a little bit greater, rerolling 1s and 2s on damage rolls. You also learn how to cast Spells at this level, using your Charisma to cast and prepare them. If you don’t feel like using spells, you can also make Divine Smites by burning spell slots for extra damage on attacks. It’s not a beam, but it still hurts plenty.

You’ll get more spells in your subclass, but if you’re itching for some now, Thunderous Smite is great for adding a bit of muscle to your swings, dealing extra Thunder damage and forcing a Strength save or the target’s pushed away and knocked prone. 

3. Barbarian 1: You’ve got some anger issues, and a few levels of Barbarian should help you work through them. Or make them worse, I’m not a psychologist. Either way, you can Rage twice per long rest for more attack damage, advantage on strength checks and saves, and physical damage type resistance as long as you’re not wearing heavy armor. To help out, you have Unarmored Defense, giving you an AC based on your constitution and dexterity while not wearing any armor. This isn’t good, but it’s better than nothing at all.

4. Barbarian 2: With this level, you can make Reckless Attacks, gaining advantage for a turn in exchange for taking advantage for a round. You also have a Danger Sense, giving you advantage on dexterity saves from things you can see. You might not be that nimble, but you know when to get the hell out of Dodge.

5. Bard 1: I admit Bard’s a bit of an odd choice here, but It was either that or ranger/wizard, and this is the closest fit. Multiclassing into bard nets you Deception proficiency so you can be a treacherous Knight of Treachery. You also get a new set of Spells that also use charisma to cast, and some Bardic Inspiration, d6s you can hand out to other players as a bonus action to help with Attack rolls, Saves, and checks, which are regained on long rests. Don’t worry, we’ll get a more self-focused use for them later.

For your spells, grab Light to help your dumb human eyes see in the dark, Mending to patch up your gear, Animal Friendship to make friends with cats, Cure Wounds for even more healing, and Heroism to inspire your party a little bit. Also grab Disguise Self for a way to hide your identity; we’ll get a more flavorful way to do this later,  but this will work for the couple of levels between then and now.

6. Bard 2: At second level you become a  Jack of All Trades, adding half your proficiency to non-proficient skills. You also have a Song of Rest, adding a d6 to healing done on short rests.

For your spell, learn how to push yourself with Longstrider for an extra 10′ of movement.

7. Bard 3: Third level bards get to pick a College, and the college of Swords is great for someone who likes to use them. You get a Fighting Style that doesn’t really matter since they don’t apply to you, and Blade Flourishes. When you attack, you can add 10′ to your speed, and upon hitting you can spend an inspiration to gain an extra effect. You roll the inspiration die, and add that to your damage, and then one of three other options occur: a Defensive Flourish adds the roll to your AC until your next turn. a Slashing Flourish deals the extra damage to another creature within 5′ of the first. a Mobile Flourish pushes the target away by 5+your roll feet, and you can react to follow them.

You also learn second level spells this level, and Enhance Ability will push one type of your skill checks to a new level. You also double your carrying capacity if you boost strength, reduce fall damage if you choose dexterity, or gain temporary hp if you boost constitution.

8. Bard 4: Use your first Ability Score Improvement to grab the War Caster feat, letting you cast spells while holding a weapon and giving advantage on concentration saves. Your dad gave you that sword, you should hold on to it. 

Well, “gave” is a bit strong, but that’s more reason to keep it close.

You also get Message to chat with your master, and Heat Metal. I don’t have Mordred in my Chaldea, so the only thing I know him well for is that he built a metal house on an island that got super hot, so I had to involve that in the build somehow.

9. Bard 5: At fifth level, your Inspiration improves to a d8, and you become a Font of Inspiration, regaining inspiration on short rests instead of long ones. For your spell, you get Nondetection, giving you (or someone else) protection from Divination spells. I’m not sure what True Names would work as in D&D, but it’s probably Divination. So slap this on a helmet and you’re good to go.

10. Paladin 3: Now that we have some fancy skills, let’s get a bit angrier. Vengeance paladins have Divine Health for immunity to disease, plus two Channel Divinity options. Abjure Enemy forces 1 creature to make a wisdom save to frighten it. On a failure, it’s frightened and its speed is reduced to 0. On a failure, its speed is halved. In either case, the effect lasts 1 minute, or until it takes damage. The Vow of Enmity uses a bonus action to give your attacks advantage against a single creature for a minute, or until it dies. 

You also get two subclass spells; Bane weakens a creature’s attacks and saving throws, and Hunter’s Mark adds to your attack damage and makes it easier to track down creatures if they run.

11. Paladin 4: Use your next ASI to buff your Charisma for more flourishes and better spells.

12. Paladin 5: Fifth level paladins finally get an Extra Attack, adding a second attack to your attack action. You also get second level spells, including subclass spells Hold Person and Misty Step. Both of them are great for when you’re absolutely sick of one creature’s nonsense and want to absolutely destroy them. For other spells, you can Find Steed to get a horse (maybe your father’s), and Magic Weapon to get a cooler sword (definitely your father’s).

13. Barbarian 3: Third level barbarians set down a path, and the Path of the Storm Herald makes your anger a little more elemental. Your Storm Aura forces a dexterity save, dealing 1d6 or half that in Lightning damage to a single creature when you begin a rage or as a bonus action while raging. We went from one attack to sort of three in two levels. Nice.

14. Barbarian 4: Use this ASI to bump up your Strength for more and better stabbing.

15. Paladin 6: The Aura of Protection adds your Charisma Modifier to all allied saves that happen within 10′ of you. That’s a plus 4 bonus to everything, which is also pretty cool.

16. Paladin 7: Seventh level Vengeance Paladins are Relentless Avengers. After making an attack of opportunity, you can move half your movement speed without provoking attacks. If someone’s trying to get past you, you can slap them and keep up; the fight’s not over until you say it is.

17. Paladin 8: Use this last ASI to improve your Charisma for stronger spells and saves, plus more flourishes.

18. Paladin 9: Ninth level paladins have third level spells, like Haste, which doubles your movement speed, adds 2 to your AC, and adds an action to your turn for a minute, and Protection from Energy, which gives a creature resistance to an arcane damage type for up to an hour: acid, cold, fire, lightning, or thunder. One of those is more generally applicable than the other.

If you’re looking for a spell to use outside of your subclass, Elemental Weapon is like Magic Weapon, but the damage it adds is a d4 instead of a flat number, and it deals that damage in an arcane type. Sadly this is concentration, so you can’t have a lightning sword and lightning lightning at the same time, but you’ve got a theme going now.

19. Paladin 10: Tenth level paladins have an Aura of Courage, preventing allies within 10′ of you from being frightened as long as you’re conscious. You can be pretty inspiring when you want to be.

20. Paladin 11: Our capstone level grants you an Improved Divine Smite, adding 1d8 radiant damage to all melee attacks for free, no spell slots required.

Pros:

You’re a pretty good gish, with classic buffs and debuffs like Haste and Hold Person, plus Heat Metal to spice things up. If that wasn’t enough, your Concentration is great. You’ve got a +7 to constitution saves plus advantage, so you can be in the thick of things and not have to worry about dropping spells.

All these different classes makes you very flexible in combat. When you want to be fancy, you’ve got spells and flourishes to back you up. When you want raw damage, go with rages and smites. Have fun with it, mix things up.

Hold person plus smites means you can do a lot of damage in a short time. Drag those other knights off their high horse and show them why you deserve the throne.

Cons:

Mixing a mostly gish build with barbarian levels means you have to make rages and spells play nice, and they don’t. Be careful you don’t end up raging while hasting someone, that won’t be pretty. 

This build would work best with heavy armor, but rages and armor don’t work well together either. 

Even with all your check and save enhancements, your low intelligence means you’ll probably get tricked and used easily. Word of advice: don’t trust your mom.

Next up: Thunderbolts and lightning, very very frightening!

#Fate Grand Order #fgo #D&D 5e #Mordred #Fate and Phantasms

[delemenko]

Julianne Kavanaugh

That moment when you have five Warriors OCs, and the last three are at the very end of your OC roster, so you got figure out how to mix them in with the others.

Name: Julianne Kavanaugh

Nickname: Juka, Juke

Fandom: The Warriors

Age at the start of story: 19

Birthday: 20 November

Gender: Female

Height (cm): 156

Weight (lbs): 116

Race: Black

Skin Tone: Olive (Somewhere around 22-24 on the Von Luschan Scale)

Hair colour/type/length and style: Medium brown, between very curly and coily, shoulder-length hair. Typically styled in an afro or worn curled. Sometimes dyes it a lighter brown or tinted red.

Eye colour: Brown

Scars/Tattoos/etc: Nothing permanent, but often gets temporary flower tattoos of flowers on her inner wrist.

Build: Short, Petite, pear frame

Sense of style: Loose fitting shirts, bell bottoms with brown boots or hot pants with converse. Will almost always have something floral on it and tends to wear flowers in her hair or a scarf as a headband.

Sense of style (Winter): Purple double-breasted coat. Earmuffs (colour varies) and a scarf and pair of gloves that match the earmuffs. Won't wear the sneakers in the winter months.

Personality: Initially, Juka is very blunt, professional, and sassy. Tends to like being in charge and self-sufficient, but will (reluctantly) work with others if necessary. She has a sharp tongue and is quick to snap back at someone who's giving her a difficult time. She is self aware enough to recognise that her shit talking is gets her into trouble, yet she doesn't care enough to stop it. She has a heightened sense of pride and is fairly arrogant, even outright calling herself better than other people. Despite this, she has a maternal side and will try to help anybody in need, even putting aside past disputes for the sake of helping someone. She really likes flowers, and will almost always be delighted at receiving them as a gift. She came up with Juka on an impulse (She just... took the first two letters of her names, bruv) and started joking that if she were to be famous (she wants to go into modeling) she would use that as her alias. She has two cats, Peony and Cosmos.

Hobbies: Gardening, Floral Arranging

Likes: Flowers, Efficiency, Her Cats, Caring for others.

Dislikes: Time wasting. Getting injured or killed or being in situations that could result in either of those things happening.

History: When she was younger, Juka generally tried to take charge of a situation and help her teachers out whenever she could. She would always go outside and pick flowers to give to her teachers and classmates. She met Cowboy (well, pre-Cowboy Cowboy) after he hurt himself on the playground and tried to help him fix the injury and gave him one of the flowers she had picked that day and the two had been friends ever since. She met Noah during her last year of junior high school after the two had to work on a project together. (I originally had her and Swan share a class in high school, but I'll probably end up scrapping that whole story, or I'll make another post about that, because it's a funky ting.) She bought Cowboy the hat that he loves to wear so much after seeing him take a liking to it. Of Cowboy's friends from school, she is the only one that consistently keeps in touch with everyone else and she is aware of his being a member of the Warriors. She enjoys the idea of going into modeling, but she also wishes to be a nurse and is in school to study it.

Family: Mother Esther Kavanaugh and Father Reuben Kavanaugh

Dexterity: Right handed

Favourite Colours: Indigo and Turquoise

Aura Colour: Dark Purple

Strengths: Is very professional, knows how to keep calm in a stressful situation.

Weaknesses: Her sense of pride can be off-putting. She's essentially all bark and no bite.

Dreams and Desires: To do modeling or to be someone that can heal people.

Five songs I like that describe her: Don't Wait For Me by Unlike Pluto, sadder badder cooler by Tove Lo, Goddess by BANKS, stone cold by Like Saturn, and Trdnsttr (Lucian Remix) by Black Coast feat. M. Maggie

Ngl, this is probably my second favourite character I've created behind Juyanio because they both give no fucks about you or your couch.

#the warriors 1979 ocs #the kalenko's ocs #ocs #original characters #the warriors 1979 #the warriors #the warriors ocs

[toothpastecanyon]

Mizar the Mediocre, Chapter 3

Alcor gets a summons from a strange Mizar. Maybe there's still something to recognise, here.

See most updated version on Archive of Our Own.

______________________________________________________________

 Mini golf turned out to be surprisingly fun. The three of them spent a couple hours knocking balls down courses and through neon clown heads. Mart turned out to be pretty good at it after all; he’d line up a shot, shoot a wink at his daughter, and putt right into the hole almost every time. Apart from the course where Ashley bet him he couldn’t shoot a ball over the windmill and stood around snickering when it came back down and hit him in the face, he had a great game.

 “Looks like I won, Dipper Pines.” Martin waved the score card in his face. “How’s about that fifty dollars, huh?”

 Dipper distinctly remembered not taking that bet, but he handed it over nonetheless and took the gloating ride back to the apartment as a form of payment. It was nearly sunset, now; he sat back in his seat, and stared up at the silhouetting skyscrapers as Mart’s words washed over him.

 This had been a good day, he thought. A good day with a fun Mizar… why hadn’t he visited this one sooner? Ah, well. As a Mizar like him would probably say, there’s no time like the-

 “Stop! Stop!”

 Brakes squealed and Dipper was nearly thrown into the legroom. The next thing he could hear was Ashley’s voice.

 “What the hell, Dad! You nearly T-boned that guy!”

 “Yeah, sorry, sorry!” Mart turned around in his seat. “Is everyone okay? You okay, sweetie?”

 “Yeah, no thanks to you! Pay attention to the fucking road, Dad!”

 “You’re right. Sorry.” Mart tried to reach a hand out, but drew it back when she glared at him. “Sorry. I was just, I was, I was talking about mini golf, and it was really fun, and we were havin’ a good time… I-I’ll just drive. Keep my eyes straight ahead, right? Where they’re supposed to be, right? Heh…”

 No one laughed at that. Dipper sat back as they started moving again, and put his seatbelt on.

 As the night set in, the city came alive. Bright lights shone out from every headlight, every storefront, every towering casino with spotlights shooting up to the heavens. Neon was everywhere he looked: neon red flashing arrows, neon yellow strobing signs, neon brands sticking out of every neon neon-soaked building they passed neonically screaming for his attention.

 Under their glaring light, the little people passing one another on the street were rendered faceless. The sky, rendered starless. Mart pulled up to the casino, and the great big neon sign above the entrance bathed their car in blood red before plunging them into shadow. On the other side, Mart peered out at the parking lot towards the back of the building.

 “Ugh,” he said, and let out a nervous chuckle. “I always forget how dark their, uh, parking is. Guess this is why they want you to let a valet do it.”

 Ashley groaned. “Why don’t you ask, then? I thought they were free here.”

 “No, that’s the other casino I go to - the, uh, Florencian. They’re not as nice about that here… but hey, as long as they comp my room, they’re pretty nice in my book!” He started grumbling as he turned the wheel. “But a whole sixty dollars just to drive my car into a parking space… nobody told me it wasn’t free here, I would’ve done it myself.”

 The car cruised right into the centre of one white line, and Mart turned off the car with a grin.

 “See? I’m a great driver! Don’t even need a valet, sweetie - just need these!”

 He wiggled his hands, and Ashley stared at him for a second. Without a word, she opened the door and got out of the car.

 “Oh, uh… Wait for me! No, really, the parking lot gets kinda sketchy sometimes Ashley, I’d really rather you…?” He watched her disappear behind the bend. “O-okay, I’m coming! I’ll catch up to you!”

 Mart left his car and half-jogged after his daughter, leaving Dipper to follow along. He followed them through a lobby still filled with chattering guests and tired clerks, and turned his head to see the casino on their way to the elevator. It was down a few steps and through an archway. Judging by the number of voices emanating from down there, there were a fair number of souls within it.

 Dipper couldn’t see them, though. All he could make out was the flashing of slot machines before they passed it by. There was a pat on his shoulder.

 “Looking at the real fun, are you?” Mart cracked a grin. “I might go down there tonight. You can come too, if you want!”

 Dipper frowned at him, which only made him chuckle.

 “What? Aw, c’mon! It’s what you do in Vegas! I won five hundred dollars on the slots once, first try!”

 Ashley said something, but it was drowned out in the chatter.

 “What was that, sweetie?”

 “I said, then you lost it, Dad.” They got into the elevator, and the doors closed shut. “So you didn’t really win anything.”

 “Aww, yeah, that happens. Part of the fun, y’know? You win some, you lose so-”

 “Mom said you lost two thousand dollars.”

 Dipper could hear a pin drop in the silence that stretched between them. The elevator moved up. Music played. Mart shot a glance down at her, and then forced out a laugh.

 “That was, uh… she told you that?”

 “Not on purpose, if that’s what you’re trying to insinuate.” Ashley glared down at her phone. “It was a loud argument. Maybe because you lost two thousand dollars of her money. All part of the fun, though, isn’t it?”

 Dipper glanced sharply at Mart, who wasn’t meeting his eyes. The doors opened, and Mart made a show of ushering everyone through.

 “Heh, after you, sweetie!”

 She stormed past him without a word.

 “Alright, haha… after you, Dipper!”

 Dipper didn’t know what to say, so he just stepped off and started following Ashley to their room. Mart slung an arm around him.

 “Well, uh, mini golf! That was fun, huh?”

 They rounded a corner.

 “Yeah, it was pretty fun-”

 “And you’re really not down for going down to the casino, huh?”

 Dipper raised an eyebrow. “No? You’re still going?”

 “Just for a little bit, don’t worry. You can hang out with Ashley - you two’ll have so much fun!”

 “You’re asking a demon to babysit your daughter.”

 “Babysit? Hah!” Mart clapped his shoulder. “No, she’s a smart girl, she doesn’t need a babysitter. You two can keep each other company, though! Put on some movies, play some games, do whatever you like!”

 Dipper smiled a bit at that, but he couldn’t stop looking at Ashley as they followed her down the corridor. “What about, uh, that stuff Ashley said? About you losing two thousand-”

 “Oh, there’s our room!” Mart said loudly, then made a show of fumbling in his pockets. “Ashley, sweetie, you got my keys, don’t you? Why don’t you just go inside?”

 She stared at him for a second.

 “Go on! You wanna order room service? I know it’s about your dinner time - go look at the menu!”

 No reply. After another moment of uncomfortable silence, she unlocked the door, swung it open, and slammed it behind her. Mart flinched a bit at that, but turned back to Dipper with a wide, wide smile. He put another hand on Dipper’s shoulder.

 “Buddy…” he started. “So, uh, alright, you’re good here?”

 “What? No, I asked you about-”

 “The money thing. Look, that was a mistake, that was years ago. I’m sorry if it got kind of awkward in the elevator, but there’s nothing to worry about, seriously.”

 Dipper peered at Mart’s aura. Something in his omniscience was needling him.

 “So we good?”

 “That was…” Dipper frowned. “That wasn’t years ago. It happened nine months ago.”

 “Jeez, it isn’t even a year yet?” He watched Dipper’s frown deepen. “No, I wasn’t trying to lie or anything, I just - huh! It feels like it was longer.” He started scratching his beard. “Well, I guess the divorce was in August. Then I was… y’know, sleeping in cars, doing odd jobs… I guess that really makes you lose track of time, you know what I mean?”

 Dipper shifted uncomfortably. “No, uh, not really. I’m… sorry to hear about-”

 “Yeah. You know, the casinos are super nice - if you do a bit of gambling, they’ll sometimes just give you a room for free! It’s crazy!” He chuckled, and put his hands in his pockets. “That’s really the only reason I go anymore; y’know, I save up those offers for weekends with Ashley. Just so we’ll have somewhere nice to stay, you know? So it’s really all for her.”

 “Oh… I guess that doesn’t sound so bad.”

 “Nah, it’s not bad. See, you get me.” Mart pulled him into a squeezing hug. “You’re the best buddy ever, Dipper Pines.”

 At that, he snorted. “You’ve only known me for a few hours.”

 “...Well, I suppose I have. Huh. I guess I just have no sense of time today, heh.” He pulled back, his grin softening into something more wistful. “I guess you just - you give off these sorta old friend vibes, you know what I mean? It really does feel like I’ve known you forever.”

 Dipper stared down at that gentle smile, those twinkling eyes, that wonderful soul nestled within him… and he found himself smiling right back.

 “I know what you mean,” he said, and Mart pulled him into another hug. Through all the things that were different, through the beard scratching against his suit and the funky smell of that leopard print dressing gown… this felt so achingly familiar. He      missed    this.

 Dipper wanted to hold on longer, but it was only a short hug. Then Mart pulled back, gave him one last grin, then shot off finger guns as he backed away down the corridor.

 “Right, buddy, we’ll hang out later! Have a nice time while I, uh… figure out which way the elevator is! Man, walking backwards is hard!”

 “It’s on your right.”

 “My right or your right- ohh, you said my right! You’re way ahead of me! Alright, to the casinoooo!”

 He chuckled as Mart backed into a wall and awkwardly shuffled out of sight. Yep, that man was definitely a Mizar.

 …

 What was he doing again? Oh, yeah, watching Ashley!

 The door was locked when he tried it, so he checked for cameras before phasing through. Mart’s suite was darker now than when they left it; most of the light came from the glow of the city from the far window, and from the glare of a phone screen off Ashley’s face as she sat on her bed. She frowned when he flipped a switch.

 Dipper waved. Ashley didn’t respond. He cleared his throat. She didn’t look up.

 “Uh… hey,” Dipper started. “So your Dad’s, uh, gonna be gone for a bit tonight…”

 He paused there, but she didn’t have anything to say to that.

 “...so it looks like it’s just you and me! You want to do anything? Put on a movie? Play board games?”

 She reached into her pocket, and brought out a pair of earbuds.

 “I’ve got any game in the world if you wanted… wanted to… oh, you’re, uh, putting those in.” Dipper watched her stick them in her ears without casting him so much as a glance. “Want to be left alone? That’s okay too! I’ll… do my own thing, I guess.”

 He stood in the doorway for a moment, twitching his wings as he looked around the room for something to do. His eyes fell upon the TV mounted to the wall; he floated over.

 “Hey, where’s the…” he started, but trailed off. To his surprise, Ashley pointed to the remote sitting on the end of the second bed. “Oh… oh! Thanks.”

 “Not much on this late,” she said. “Don’t get your hopes up.”

 “Oh. Any requests?”

 “I just told you there’s not much on.”

 “Oh, sorry, sorry…” Dipper shied away to the ceiling. “I’ll just see what’s on.”

 He turned on the TV, and was instantly greeted by one of those strange commercials that only played after nine. He assumed it was advertising some kind of car, but all the women in bikinis made him roll his eyes and change the channel. It switched onto a medicine advert, and then a food advert, and then it dropped him right in the middle of an intense fight scene where a man got knifed across the cheek and put an hand over the blood and yelled out, “You      fucking bi-”  

 Dipper gasped and scrambled to shut it off. He was met with a loud snort; Ashley was snickering into her chest, and he gave a nervous smile.

 “Yeah, that was, uh, funny.” He discreetly floated the remote back to its position on the bed. “I guess it’s too late for Magical Mizar to be on, huh?”

 She just kept snickering away, and he felt his cheeks redden a little. How long was Mart gonna be gone for, again? He cast his mind down the stairs and found him gushing about Ashley to a poker table; it seemed like he was having a good time.

 Maybe he should find something else to do.

 Dipper summoned a little flame, flicking it between his fingers as he thought. Just to the left of him was the window, and the city that shone out from it. It was impossible to ignore he was in Vegas; the whole room seemed to lead his eye out to the Strip, forced him to focus on the beautiful lights and the beautiful lights only. And there was beauty, in the beautiful lights. There was a luxury, an excitement lent to being here, a rush to seeing all those blinding lights laid out beneath his feet. It was like he was on top of the world… and all else was black. All else was hidden. The lights were beautiful.

 Someone said something.

 …

 “Alcor?”

 “Huh?” He looked up at the name, then over at Ashley, who was still looking at her phone. “Oh, do you need something?”

 “No. I said, you don’t need to babysit me if you’re bored.”

 “Oh, I’m not bored, don’t worry!”

 “You’re just staring out of a window, dude.” She tapped her screen. “I’m not a little kid, you can leave if you want.”

 “No, it’s okay, you shouldn’t be on your own the whole night. Mart wanted me to stay here until he gets back.”

 Ashley finally looked up at him. She raised an eyebrow.

 “What?”

 “He did not say that.”

 Dipper frowned. “Well, he didn’t say that explicitly, but I’m sure that’s what he meant.”

 “Oh, really.”

 “Yeah! So don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere.”

 To that, she rolled her eyes and looked back down at her phone. That seemed to be the end of the conversation, but then she paused, made a face, and looked back up at him.

 “Is it like a demon thing?”

 Dipper blinked. “Is what a demon thing?”

 “Did my dad, like, make a deal so you gotta stay here, or-”

 “No, no, no! We didn’t make a deal or anything-”

 “Then why are you here?”

 “What do you mean?”

 Ashley made a face. “I mean, I’m not trying to be rude or anything, but, uh, you’re a demon, right?”

 “I am.” He twitched his wings, and sighed. “Yeah, I get what you’re asking. I know it probably seems a little… weird, that I hung out with you guys all day without a deal.”

 She didn’t say anything to that. He continued.

 “It’s just… you know, it was fun! With Mart, it was fun!”

 “Okay?” Ashley snorted. “I didn’t know Alcor the Dreambender liked mini golf that much.”

 “Heh, I mean, I didn’t mind what we were doing.” He gave a little smile. “It was nice to catch up with Mart, though.”

 “Catch up?”

 “Huh?”

 Ashley sat up. “‘Catch up’ with Mart? Do you know my dad, or something?”

 He froze.      Oh.     This might be a little difficult to explain.

 “Have you guys met before?”

 “Uh… no? I mean kind of, but I haven’t met your dad before, like your dad the person! I, uh…” He watched Ashley’s face as it morphed into a confused frown. “I know… I know his soul.”

 “His soul?”

 “Yeah! He’s, uh… Mizar.”

 Silence. For a moment, Ashley just stared. She looked he’d told her Mart came from outer space. Her jaw had actually dropped, and her eyes were bugged out. He cringed.

 “Yeah, uh, I know that’s kind of… kind of a lot to take in, but-”

 “My dad’s Mizar?!”

 “Yeah-”

 And Ashley      laughed.     She collapsed on the bed, laughing until tears were in her eyes, and Dipper raised an eyebrow.

 “What?”

 She didn’t respond immediately. He crossed his arms, and found himself wrapping his wings around his sides. Finally, her howling turned into a lighter chuckle.

 “Sorry,” Ashley started, wiping her eyes. “You just - that’s got to be a joke. That’s      amazing.”  

 “What do you mean? Mart is a Mizar, he’s-” Dipper paused when she let out another wheeze. “Why’s that so funny?”

 “He - he can’t be Mizar, oh my stars.”

 “Why not?”

 “Well, he’s-! Well, Mizars are like, legends, you know! Like Mabel Pines, I learned about her in school!” Ashley cackled at the thought. “Oh my stars, you’re telling me my dad is Mabel Pines.”

 “Well, no,      he’s     not Mabel Pines-”

 “Gee, I hadn’t noticed.”

 “But he is a Mizar! Look,” Dipper struggled to explain. “He’s… it’s just… Mizar is just a specific soul, I’m just saying he has her soul-”

 “Oh my stars, Magical Mizar!” Ashley wiped the tears from her eyes. “I am never going to watch that show the same way again.”

 “Heh, yeah…” He made a face. “Yeah, I know this might be a bit weird. Maybe Mart doesn’t…      exactly    fit how people think of most Mizars-”

 “Understatement of the century.” She saw him open his mouth and cut in: “L-look, look, I don’t mean to be rude or anything, I know Mizar is, like, part of your demon business… but it’s kinda weird that you’re saying      my dad     is part of your demon business. I mean I’m trying to think of him, like, busting cults…” she started cracking up. “I-in his dumb, smelly old dressing gown… a-and his crocs, hahaha!”

 “Heh, yeah. That is pretty funny, but, uh… yeah.” He looked away, out of the window. “Mart’s… a special person to me.”

 Below Dipper’s feet, a million lights twinkled like stars in the sky. A smile graced his face.

 “He’s always been special,” he said, quietly. “Every time I meet her, she’s always special, in some way. Always finds some way to surprise me, you know?”

 “...uh, sure?” A pause. “Alcor?”

 After a moment, he tore his eyes away from the lights. They took a moment to adjust and focus back on Ashley. “Yes?”

 She was giving him an odd look. She opened her mouth, took a breath… then closed it. Offered only a shrug.

 “Nevermind,” she said, and reached over to the phone on the bedside table. “I’m gonna order dinner.”

 “Okay.” Dipper watched her pick up a plastic menu. “Let me know if you need anything.”

 She grunted in response to that. After a moment of silence, his eyes drifted down. They settled on the baseboard for a moment, then followed the line it made to the left, to the window, then outside.

 Outside, where a million beautiful stars twinkled like the shine in Mizar’s eyes. He smiled, wistfully, then sat back in the air, and took in the view.

 This sky was full of surprises.

#transcendence au #dipper #Martin #ashley #mizar

[crapitskizaru]

Just an Ordinary Day.

Happy Valentines Day!

Eustass Kid 

There is no way he remembers what day it is, you try to convince yourself. On Victoria Punk, there is no such thing as Valentine’s Day. That is, of course, until the crew calls at the harbor and passionately celebrates with the locals. This year, however, you’re on the open ocean.

With the sun slowly making a trail towards the horizon, your anticipation grows. The tiny box in your pocket seemingly drenched in sweat - the courtesy of your fingers fidgeting around it every other second of the day. If only he left his workshop for a while, there wouldn’t be an issue.

How can a man be so engrossed in the task, you have no idea. Tinkering, cussing, throwing and barking are all part of the package that comes with sharing a room with Eustass Kid, but there are no complaints on your behalf anyway - the man is a whole treasure on his own.

Finally, you spot Killer, God bless him, calling his captain over. You take the opportunity immediately and slip into the empty cabin.

The sparkly box has Kid’s name scribed on top of it. Containing a fancy lipstick decorated with jewels, you finally let go of the clammy package and set it on the nightstand.

That is when your eyes catch a glimpse of another box, taunting you from your pillow. Black and elegant, you spot your name written on the lid. An effortless smile is all the reaction you get to have before the door swing open and reveal the feisty presence of your captain.

His gaze jumps from your face to the box you’re holding, then to your face again. He lets out a snarl. “Well, what are you waiting for?‌‌ Open it.”‌

You set the box on the nightstand, just beside the one you’re gifting him, and reach out to feel his lips and body close to yours. How familiar, how safe he feels, you’ll never get enough of.

His spark, his anger, his bravery. Your anchor.

Trafalgar Law

Already two hours past midnight, and the amount of work you have left still isn’t lessening. You let your hand scribble on the paper automatically, leaving your thoughts free to wander.

You try to bring Law and the most romantic day in the year together - to say you’re curious about how this blend turns out would be an understatement. Of course, he’s getting all sorts of bittersweet gifts from your side. Strawberry lip balms, glittery ties, shiny earrings, heart-shaped chocolates, all of this funky stuff will end up overtaking his room and quite possibly exposing him to merciless jokes from the rest of the crew. Still, the man needs to feel the amount of love you have for him.

When your vision starts to get narrowed, you know it’s time for a break.

The darkened corridors of the ship tilt slightly with the rhythm of the ocean currents, your steps echoing around the plain walls as you reach the kitchen, eyes barely open from weariness, brain longing for a hot cup of tea.

You only manage to spot him after he stands directly beside you, the kettle almost slipping from your grasp out of surprise.

“Can you stop creeping around the whole place like some kind of an edgy ghost?‌‌ Don’t you have better things to do? Holy shit,” you bark, feeling your heartbeat steadying and then racing off again when you meet his eyes.

“You mean sleeping?‌ There are more enjoyable activities involving a bed, you know.”

You send him a sideways smile. “I’m so numb right now, I‌ wouldn’t feel a thing.”‌

“Want to bet on that?”‌

You lose the meaning of his words when reaching out for an embrace - his scent and warmth take over your world, refreshing and reviving like medicine.

“I’m sure you have all sorts of horrible surprises waiting for me,”‌‌ he starts, low voice in your ear. “Since today is…Well, that day.”‌

“Is Valentine's Day so terrifying that you can’t even bring yourself to say its proper name?”‌

“Shush.”‌ He pulls away and looks at you again. “I just don’t like it. And I‌ don’t need a special opportunity to feel grateful for having you.‌‌”

You squint your eyes suspiciously, although it’s so dark, there is a big chance he can’t even see it. “But…?”

“But I have this.”‌ Out of thin air, he presents a blossomed flower, its white petals standing out from the darkness. “Some sign of celebration never hurt anybody.”

“Awwh…,”‌ the sound slips away uncontrollably, followed by a huge grin rising on your face. “‌That’s so romantic of you. Thank you.”‌

“I’m not romantic. Don’t even say that out loud, anyone can hear.”‌

You lunge into his arms again, careful not to crush the delicate symbol of his affection. He inhales deeply, then exhales, muscles relaxing.

His wit, his nature, his aspiration. Your medicine.

Saboo

A bouquet of roses on the table and a tiny box wrapped in shiny paper resting beside it. The tablecloth matching the napkins. An inviting aroma luring you inside the apartment.

“Hello? (Name)?”‌ He suddenly pops up from the kitchen, eyes sparkling, wrinkled apron around his hips. “Hi. You hungry?”‌

You giggle uncontrollably - not that you can help it. He just oozes this kind of warm happiness that spreads all over your heart and wraps your lips in a smile.

“Wow. You really went out of your way today, huh? What’s in the box?‌‌ A ring?”‌

He scrunches his nose. “Nah. That’d be quite cheesy, wouldn’t it?‌ Proposing on Valentine’s Day. Unless you insist, of course.”‌

“Maybe it’d be better to have lunch first,”‌ you smile again, following him into the kitchen. Before your mind gets occupied with seasoning food and preparing the dishes, you catch a glimpse of sunlight reflecting in his golden locks just for a second.

Happiness. That’s what he brings into this world. It is only by sheer luck you can find yourself enjoying and cherishing this man, his aura and his everyday manner. Your own happiness.

Dino!

“I can’t see it anywhere! You’re making it up.”‌

“Who’s the expert here?‌‌‌ I’m pointing straight at it. The Dino constellation. Just look more closely.”‌

Just to humor him, you had played along. But now, instead of straining your gaze for the millionth time to spot the made-up star pattern, you direct your eyes in his direction.

“I’ve got my own Dino constellation right here,” you murmur with a smile and lean against him. The wooden railing you were sat on screeches suspiciously with your movement.

“Wow. That was cheesy.”‌‌ His kiss is warm and gentle, and then he continues. “I‌ love it.”‌

“A‌ bouquet of flowers, chocolates, and dinner with candles - all your ideas. You’re the cheesiest person on Earth.‌ Don’t you turn it around on me.”‌

He hums and embraces you again. “Maybe so.”‌

The starry night seems to envelop you in an embrace as well, the stars above your head guarding your time together. That is what will always remind you of him - the ocean, the night and the stars, an open world.

You can feel his happiness, right at that moment; an entire romantic celebration of its own.

His mind, his heart, his morals. Your own world.

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