#I'm pulling from several different sources for this

[community-gardenss]

Thought on medus? His relationship with his mom? His age? His time imprisoned? The whole thing give me all of your thoughts and do not spill

took me a second to respond to this ask but I DO HAVE SO MANY THOUGHTS ABOUT MEDUS. how did you know.

He is so momma's boy coded I'm sorry. That man is JUST like his mother. They basically came up with the exact same lie to Perses just in reverse. The exact same ruse. As well as the idea that he followed her willingly after her exile from Athens + I'm partial to the interpretation that he named Media after his mother. So to me I read them as having been fairly close !

Age wise. Uhm. There's no untangling anything related to the argonautica to me I'm sorry. The Greek myths have no true timeline and the heroes' ages are elusive and ill-defined by nature. But if I had to guess I would place him as likely being 16-17 at the time of Medea's exile. Still fairly young.

Medus is really interesting to me as a character despite information about him being very. Sparse. In a lot of ways it almost feels like he sort of inverts a lot of the traits of a typical Greek hero. His father is almost entirely irrelevant to his story. He isn't later compelled to take revenge on Aegaeus or kill Theseus for the throne of Athens (think Jason/Pelias or Pelias/Aeson). After he leaves Athens, he's completely uninvolved with his father or his father's line. Instead, his story focuses entirely on his mother's line. He's named after his mother. In a lot of ways he's a hero who's story is entirely defined by his relationship with his mother. Aside from maybe Achilles it's not something I can recall many examples of.

Like. Okay I know I've mentioned in the past that part of what makes Medea's decision to kill her kids compelling to me is the interpretation of her deciding to do it, in part, to spare them from the cycle of tragedy stemming from the glory-seeking, patriarchal society of Greece (They must die/and since they must/I who gave them birth will kill them). Her children are the sons of a hero, and as all sons of a hero are bound to do, they will suffer for their father's glory. Contrasting that with Medus. How his life is so obviously centered on her. It feels like a reversal.

They're both very interesting to me if you could not tell

[realcube]

dilf december

day fifteen ⭑ kenma kuzome ⭑ want you here tonight

tw : nsfw minors dni, cybersex, f!masterbation, orgasm denial, daddy kink and "kitten"

your boyfriend only exists online.

of course, you've met him in-person before. several times. in fact, you were laying in his cali king-sized bed right now, drowning in the fluffy sheets. but it seems like he always escapes you — jetting off to different countries on last-minute business trips. you weren't even entirely sure where he was right now, all you knew was he was somewhere in asia to accept an reward related to company growth.

currently, for you, it was the middle of the day. though it was a bit dark and gloomy outside, so it felt much later. hence, you were wrapped up snug in kenma's bed, basking in the warmth his covers provided. meanwhile, it was the middle of the night where ever he was; that's the only reason he was able to find time to talk to you over video-call.

his camera was propped up on his desk, so you got a nice view of him as he tapped away on his laptop — unsure whether he was working on important paperwork or just playing video games. his hotel room was dark, and only light source was the computer screen in front of him, harshly illuminating his sharp features.

his narrow eyes darted over the screen, hardly sparing you a glance. still, you'd push your tits up to the camera for your own amusement, admiring your own reflection in the small section in the corner of your mobile phone. you pouted your lips, impressed with how effortless you look, "it's been so lonely here without you. having a big bed is pointless without someone to share it with." you whine, dramatically spreading your arm out across the length of the mattress.

" 'm sorry, babe, but this award is a big deal." his voice is soft yet he speaks in such a dull, uncaring manner. you can detect the sweetness below the surface, however. "i had to fly out and accept it in-person."

"i know.." you sigh, losing yourself and averting your gaze to the side, longingly. it was quite the impressive little charade: you were never really too bothered by kenma visiting other countries and leaving you in his mansion by yourself — the solitude was enjoyable —but you would always pretended to be in utter turmoil over how much you miss him because you know it strokes his ego.

"don't be upset.." he murmured, eyes finally pried off his computer screen, to notice the discontented act you were putting on. "i hate seeing you unhappy."

"hm.." you pout, angling the camera away from your face but still focussed enough so he could see you wiping invisible tears from your eyes.

kenma frowns, and slumps back in his chair, crossing his arms, "c'mon, baby, i'm right here." he tries to reason, between your fake sniffs and quiet sobs, "show daddy those pretty tits, hm?"

wordlessly, you turn your head away from the camera with a dramatic flip of your hair. but, as requested, you lower the camera and pull down the neck of your tank-top in order to free your tits. despite being engulfed by his toasty sheets, your nipples were still stiff upon sudden exposure to the chilly air in the room.

kenma smirks, leaning forward and admiring the view for a moment, before subtly returning his attention to the work on his screen. but not without humming your praises first, "fuck, i've been missing my girls so bad." his chest visibly heaves as he takes laboured breathes, "have you been missing daddy, angel?"

you nod, and as expected, he bluntly rasps in response, "show me."

without further instruction, you kick your sweatpants off, followed by your lacey black panties. sat pretty in the centre of the bed, you spread your legs and place the camera down between them, pointed directly at your sopping pussy, which was leaking arsousal onto his pristine white sheets,

"so wet and filthy.." he mused, only sparing you a glimpse while working. though brief, in that time he was still able to appraise your cunt and it turned him on to see how horny he made you. since he was quite a bit older, he worried that maybe you don't perceive him to be as attractive as he considers you. but seeing with his own eyes how wet he could get you was nice reassurance that he's still hot.

to you, it seemed as though he was clearly more focussed on his work than on you — but that is only because you couldn't see the lewd thoughts clouding his mind. however, it truly turned you on, to be overlooked even while you were fully on display for him. having to claw and beg for male attention was something you weren't used to, so it was certainly a new and erotic experience.

"can i finger myself, daddy?" you whine, hand already roaming down between your thighs and kneading at your plush skin impatiently.

"sure." he muttered, attempting to focus on his computer, "but don't cum. i'm going to do that to you when i get home, okay?"

before he even managed to finish his question, you were already two knuckles-deep into your pussy, moaning wildly and spasming around your own fingers. though you weren't especially fast or dexterous, any stimulation — even amateur — was enough to satisfy your hungry pussy, which yearned for your boyfriend's expert touch, but ultimately would settle for any attention at all.

your walls sucked and gnawed on your own two fingers, making obscenely wet noises as they did so, which not only echoed through the bedroom you were in, but the hotel room kenma was in too. additionally, he got an earful for your loud, staggered moans, which admittedly has his erection aboslutely throbbing in his trousers, but he was experienced in hiding his arousal.

"don't get too carried away, kitten. you're not allowed to cum yet."

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

idk if this is a sex ed question, or if you're the right person to ask, sorry, but do you have any reputable sources about what testosterone *actually* does?

i see people saying it limits your emotions, that it gives you breast cancer, that it makes you malnourished, its a second more dangerous puberty, etc, and I'd like to think im good at picking out lies, but there's a lot of stuff that sounds like bullshit coming from blogs i thought were trustworthy.

if not, all good, thank you in advance!

hi anon,

I'm really glad you sent this ask, because this kind of scaremongering misinformation is deeply upsetting and I'm so happy to provide a better information.

there are tons of reputable sources as to what testosterone does; some that I'll be pulling from in this answer include Cleveland Clinic, Harvard Medical School, University of California San Francisco, Mayo Clinic, the Society for Endocrinology, and Planned Parenthood.

so, what's up testosterone?

testosterone is a hormone produced in everyone's bodies, either in the testes or the ovaries depending on which set of equipment you're working with. all bodies produce both estrogen and testosterone, usually in different levels. regardless of the genitalia you were born with, how you understand your gender, or what levels of testosterone you have in your body, testosterone affects things like your sex drive, your hair growth, muscle and bone density, and the production of red blood cells.

in people born with testes, puberty usually comes with an increase in testosterone that kicks off changes such as growth of the penis and testicles, the production of sperm, an increase in hair growth all over the body, deepening of the voice, greater production of oil on the skin, and an increase in height, weight, and muscle mass.

either an overabundance or a deficit of testosterone can have health complications, just as having more or less of any hormone that a body needs can cause complications.

people who choose to transition by taking testosterone will experience many similar effects as cisgender men going through puberty, including the increase in body hair, skin oils, and muscle mass, as well as a deepening voice. while people on testosterone are unlikely to experience significant growth in terms of height unless they start hormone replacement therapy (HRT) at a fairly young age, testosterone does frequently cause a redistribution of fat on their bodies to be more similar to that of cisgender men. bottom growth, the increased size and sensitivity of the clitoris to more closely resemble a penis, is also common; the clitoris and the penis are homologous structures (they're made out of the same goo when embryos start developing genitalia), hence why they react similarly to testosterone.

to address your specific concerns:

testosterone does not limit the range of a person's emotions. while it may impact a person's mood and the severity of their feelings, the same is true of any hormone - for instance, people also report mood changes when they take antidepressants or birth control. the sometimes drastic mood fluctuations experienced during puberty are not tied to a specific hormone; this is a turbulent time regardless of what hormones your body is producing the most. testosterone is stereotyped as making people angry and violent, but all people are people regardless of their biology and are shaped by much more than the hormones in their body.

while cisgender men and trans people on testosterone can both get breast cancer, testosterone does not pose any particular risk. several of the sources linked about don't find any significant link between taking testosterone HRT and an increased risk of breast cancer, reporting that transgender individuals who take testosterone are not at any particularly higher risk of developing breast cancer than cisgender women. for more detailed information about potential health problems affiliated with taking testosterone, I recommend the "Risks" section of the linked UCSF document. yes, there are health risks affiliated with taking testosterone; this is true of literally any medication and, more importantly, is also true of just being a person with any kind of hormones in your body. cis men and women also have health conditions affiliated with being cis men and cis women, this is the price of admission for having a human body. nobody gets out unscathed.

there is no evidence that testosterone causes someone to become malnourished. people undergoing a testosterone-based puberty, whether they're cis or trans, are likely to experience a great deal of growth and bodily changes that will use a great deal of calories, which means they may be hungry and need more food than they did previously. this is a normal effect of puberty on a body, and is only a risk for malnourishment if a person isn't able to eat in sufficient amounts to keep their body properly nourished.

there is nothing about a testosterone-based puberty that is "more dangerous" than an estrogen-based puberty, which is what I assume is the point of comparison. puberty is a completely natural process that does not pose any significant dangers unless you want to be a real dipshit about it and pull some shit like "puberty is dangerous because you grow breast tissue and then you're at risk for breast cancer," in which case sure, great job, Sherlock. you solved it, puberty is cancelled forever. I cannot emphasize enough how stupid this is, conceptually; roughly half the human population goes through this kind of puberty every day and they're fucking fine. puberty by itself is not a risk factor of anything.

I don't know what particular interest the blogs you've been following have in making testosterone-based puberty sound like it's going to turn you into an emotionally stunted skeleton with breast cancer, although I fear it's transphobia hidden unsubtly behind concern trolling and disdain for cisgender men.

if you're interested in taking testosterone and are concerned about the changes you might see in your body please, for the love of god, consult with reputable health resources and a doctor rather than whatever nematode is posting about testosterone ruining your life.

[kierahn]

DRIVEN. [ y ! assassin x m ! reader ]

[ nsfw, minors DNI ]

yandere! assassin x journalist! male reader

warnings :

nsfw

forced non-con [in bold letters]

dead dove

reader death

slight torture warning

semi-necrophilia ?

hi, i'm back after three months of dying🧍‍♂️ it might take me awhile before i post a fic again, but here's an update for you guys.

malachi was a man whose services could be availed with just the right amount of money. he isn't the type to settle for less, confident that he was beyond excellent at doing his job.

ask him to dispose of someone and it would be as if they never existed in the first place. most of his victims' bodies had never been found. that, or they would be beyond recognizable when found. traces of his victims' existence would be gone in a pull of a trigger, with only their names to be remembered by their loved ones.

you were a journalist, renowned for your boldness and endless pursuit for the truth. unlike malachi, your silence can't be bought by any amount of money. you never hesitated to shed light on several issues which made you a formidable force in the eyes of the elite. after all, a journalist who values transparency above anything is someone to be feared by their kind; shrouded with secrets that they dare not reveal to the media.

you were well aware of the risks that came with your job, but that never once detered your work. truly remarkable, but idiotic in a sense.

you knew that it would all come to bite you back someday. with all those companies that you had brought down and names that you have ruined; maybe this was your karma catching up to you.

even as you stood at the receiving end of malachi's gun, regret never once entered your mind. you will never regret challenging the elites. they were nothing but a bunch of cowards, hiding behind their status and disposing of anything that threatened to destroy it.

over the past few months he had been keeping a watchful eye on you, malachi hadn't expected you to barely flinch despite having a gun pressed against your forehead.

"what an interesting reaction," the male on the other end mused as his calculating gaze studied your unfazed expression.

you truly were a bold one, always so headstrong and indifferent. even when threatened with a bullet through your skull, you stood your ground, not even a yell for help or a plead for him to spare you.

"why am i not surprised," a sound of amusement escaped malachi's lips. "you've always been so fearless. perhaps, you were already expecting this to happen."

he wasn't entirely wrong, you've long envisioned this scenario inside your head.

you stood with an oddly placid expression before the barrel of his gun, but your hands told a completely different story. they trembled against your sides, a stark contrast to your calm demeanor.

you were scared.

you could only hope that he could do it quickly to save you from further embarrassment.

"there's no point in prolonging this, is there ?" you spat out in spite, opening the door for death who stood at your doorstep.

your eyes were always so full of challenge, malachi wanted to rip that away from you. he had always wanted to see you with a different expression; whether it was fear or something more.

"a shame," he slightly lowered the gun in his hand, now pointed right where your heart lies. "i've grown quite fond of you, journalist." malachi shamelessly confessed.

something you two had in common was being highly driven by your work. unfortunately for you, malachi still had a job he was committed to.

‘ bang! ‘

he didn't fret over the possibility of the gunshot being heard by a passerby. if anyone were to investigate the source of the sound, he would simply dispose of them too.

malachi watched intently as you dropped to the ground.

and there it was. your fearful expression.

your eyes were wide with tears as you clutched your side where the bullet lodged itself, your breathing laboured as your mind quickly worked to try and numb out the excruciating pain you felt. curses left your lips, the warmth of your own blood trickling down your wrist.

he wasn't quite contented in ending things there. normally, he would go for a swift kill and dispose of his victims afterwards. however, he had purposely shot you in a spot that didn't instantly put you to rest.

the sound of footsteps nearing your fallen form reached your ears before your hand was forcefully ripped away from your bleeding side and pinned beside your head, leaving you more vulnerable than you intially were as your killer straddles your bloodied waist.

malachi's eyes scanned your tearful expression with a hint of content. absentmindedly, his free hand moved to caress your open wound.

"!!" an excruciating scream left your lips when malachi suddenly dug his finger through your bullet wound.

his grip around your wrist tightened when you started to thrash around under him, your survival instincts kicking in. you tried to throw him off of you, but your frantic movements only caused your wound to open up more.

malachi clicked his tongue in disapproval, removing his finger from your wound. "now you're just making things harder for yourself."

“HN!– ha.. f.. uck you,” you curse him through gritted teeth. your expression hardened as you shut your teary eyes tightly, trying to minimize the pain.

he leans down to move his face close to yours, examining the tears that slid down your reddened cheeks and the saliva that trickled down your chin. malachi drew his hand that was stained with your blood, brushing it under your eye and leaving a streak of crimson red.

"you know," he starts softly, feeling you tremble underneath him. "this look suits you better than the stoic one that you always wore.”

"i bet i can make you show so much more than that," malachi chuckled darkly, his words holding anticipation. "consider this a parting gift for my dear journalist."

the male roughly grabbed your cheeks to prevent you from struggling when he leans in to capture your lips into a forced kiss. his other hand left your limp wrist to rest, slipping under your bloodied shirt and brushing over the bullet wound up to your chest.

his touch was gentle, a stark contrast to the tight grip on your cheeks. anyone could tell that malachi was, to some degree, fond of the man under him.

he soon broke the kiss to trail his lips down your neck. his lips land on your shoulder where he suddenly bit down to leave his mark, making you flinch and let out a pained groan.

malachi pulled his lips away and gently licked the bleeding bitemark to try and soothe you in a way. he straightened back up to examine his handiwork.

your eyes seemed to be in a daze, your breathing slowing down. it was a clear indication that your conciousness was beginning to slip. but before life could completely escape you, malachi lands a harsh slap to your cheek.

"don't be so ungrateful, y/n." he warns, grabbing your cheeks roughly once more, his hand that was under your shirt leaving to grasp onto your thigh. "leaving without accepting my gift. no, no. i won’t let you do that.”

malachi released his grasp on your cheeks by roughly tossing your head to the side, he worked to unbuckle your belt before slipping your trousers down to your knees. he was seething. you couldn't leave him just yet, not without him seeing your expressions as he's (literally) fucking the life out of you.

your vision swayed as the blood loss eventually made you cease your struggles. the light in your eyes was slowly fading and so was your warmth.

but that didn't stop malachi from getting his entertainment. after pulling down his own trousers, malachi rammed himself into you in one single thrust, leaving you with no preparation as you jolt at the sudden intrusion.

you weakly claw at the male's clothed chest. there was just so much pain, from the bullet wound on your side to the bitemark on your shoulder, and now the size that stretched you out dry. you could feel something warm trickling down your thighs, a a texture you could recognize.

you sobbed quietly as the pain doubled when malachi started to move without giving you the time adjust to his size. the tip of his cock worked its way on your insides, trying to find the spot that would make you melt under him.

his eyes watched as your pained expressions turn into one of hesitance. readjusting himself, malachi sets his pace. he knew that he finally found the right spot when he felt your thigh twitch in his grasp and your walls tighten around his dick. lo and behold, your look of hesitance contorted into a disturbed one as you quickly throw an arm over your face to cover yourself.

a shameful moan escaped your lips as soon as he finally hits the spot that broke it all for you. it wasn't long before you turned into a hot mess under him. your chest rose and fell in a rapid rate as you whimpered and moaned under him.

malachi's free hand roughly removed the arm that covered your slutty expressions. you looked so lewd with his cock inside you, drool spilling from your lips and your eyes rolled back in undeniable pleasure.

now this was the sight he had been longing to see.

the pain from your wound was long gone as intense pleasure eventually replaced it. malachi quickened his pace when he noticed how your cock twitched, indicating that you were near your climax. he wasn't that cruel to deny you of orgasm in your last moments.

or maybe he was.

before the knot in your lower abdomen could come undone, malachi grabbed a hold of his gun and shot you straight in between your eyes, lodging a bullet through your skull and finally putting you to rest.

your warm blood stained his lower abdomen, trickling down to his cock that continued to drive into you who had long went limp under him, your eyes deprived of life.

he gave a few more thrusts before finally spilling his warm seed inside of your ass. his breaths were heavy as he kept his cock buried inside your now freezing and stiff body.

malachi soon pulled out of your corpse, fixing his trousers and standing back up. he sheated his gun back on its holster as he gazed down at your limp body.

he knew he was fucked up, but this was on another level.

he smiled smugly.

maybe you should've picked another job in the first place.

[esther-dot]

It all begins way, way back in 2012…

[I'm doing screenshots or select quotes for those who don't click through + linking as well for those who will, but please, do not, do NOT harass anyone over their takes. No rude comments or weird anons! Talk to your fellow Jonsas instead, and of course, hopefully, post some thoughts about the theory yourself!]

2012 AUGUST Sansa's Suitors Align with the Fair Maid's Champions - (Assumes Aegon is the Targ but is a Sansa x The Hound theory)

2014 The Tourney at Ashford and Sansa's Future Husband (Sansa x Aegon theory)

It's been implied that this Redditor took the idea from the Sansan theory since it was posted months later, but their read is a bit different, focusing on the idea of the Targ suitor for Sansa rather than focusing on Dunk/claiming the Hound will interrupt the events or be a suitor himself. Whatever the truth there, many of the convos I've seen about the theory whether it's from Sansa x Aegon truthers, Jonsas, or those who don't buy into it at all, stem from this post, this reading and often link to it as the source.

The theory was eventually copied over to Westeros.org, several posts in quick succession of each other.

2014 JANUARY I've just read a new theory about Dunk and Egg... (Arguing for a Sansa x Aegon pairing)

2014 JANUARY TL;DR Aegon and Sansa will be paired up sometime in the future. The ending's not going to be good.

2014 JANUARY How Aegon might end up as Sansa's Suitor

2014 MAY Sansa Stark and Lady Ashford (much more thought given to Jon as a serious contender than I saw elsewhere around this time)

Now Littlefinger’s supposed plan is to marry her to Harry Hardyng.

GRRM may or may not be foreshadowing here, but I believe a clear analogy was intended. But there is a correction here that I have noticed: What do all of the men and betrothals Sansa finds herself have in common? They’re all frauds. ... And next we have Jon Snow. At this point R+L=J is canon except in name (fitting much?). His survival was achieved by the most honest and honorable man in the 7 Kingdoms pulling off what is arguably it’s grandest act of deception in living memory. A lie he even convinced his wife and best friend to believe. If Rhaegar and Lyanna were married (remember, polygamy used to be a thing for the Targaryens, so it’s possible), then his real name would Targaryen. But either way, Jon is, you guessed it, a fraud. I do not see how Sansa could end up in a betrothal to either Jon or Aegon (the latter option in particular sounds like it could lead to terrible things), but then again who would have guessed that Jorah would end up with Tyrion in Essos?

2015 APRIL I don’t normally reopen closed threads of mine... (Jonsa post!)

It is hypothesized that GRRM hid clues regarding who Sansa would marry in The Hedge Knight which indicate that the last person she will be betrothed to is a Targaryan.

2015 JULY Sansa and Aegon Gifset

2015 SEPTEMBER Sansa and Aegon Gifset

2016 JUNE Jon or Aegon Gifset

2016 JULY Sansa and Jon Gifset

2016 JULY Aegon and the Ashford Theory in connection to GoT (Jonsa post!)

Could Aegon be Sansa’s Targaryen suitor?  In the show, no.  In the books, we used to think so. However, it appears that the books are leading towards a potential Aegon/Arianne partnership, and if things begin to go badly for Aegon, he may try to go back down the Aegon/Dany path that he abandoned at Tyrion’s insistence.   Besides this, Varys is the mastermind of Aegon’s rise to power, and Littlefinger is the mastermind of Sansa’s potential reclaiming of Winterfell and ownership of the Eyrie - the two men hate each other ferociously, and it’s unlikely that they would trust each other enough to give their pawns to them. Whilst I don’t doubt that Littlefinger is going to try and murder both Sweetrobin and Harry (who she is to be betrothed to in The Winds of Winter), I doubt any of Varys’ men will attempt to do the same to Arianne incase of a Dornish retaliation.

2016 JULY Five Suitors for Sansa (Jonsa fic based on the theory)

2016 AUGUST Jon or Aegon Gifset

2016 SEPTEMBER Will Sansa marry Jon Snow? Alt Shift X video

Although already beloved by Jonsas, Alt Shift's video took the theory to a whole other level...

TIME September 2016

Harpers Bazaar September 2016

RadioTimes October 2016

"bring him luck in love" lmao. If only. Glamour October 2016

....you get the idea.

Jonsas weren't necessarily thrilled for this specific theory to get all the attention, but from here on out, perhaps because of the huge influx in Jonsa shippers after s6 of GoT, a show in which Aegon didn't exist and instead Jon was dubbed Aegon, the theory kinda became perceived as a Jonsa theory. And weirdly, although Alt Shift wasn't a Jonsa, Jonsas were accused of "stealing" the theory (even though all corners of the ASOIAF fandom linked to the old Reddit post as the originator, and even though the Game of Thrones fandom heard about it through Alt Shift + all the subsequent articles...). Regardless of all of that nonsense, Jonsas ran with it and it became pretty commonly referenced bit of proof that Jonsa was real here on tumblr (examples from 2017, 2018, 2019). By this time it looks like it also became accepted that Brienne, not the Hound, is the canon parallel to Dunk (this post claims to be the first to bring Brienne into the convo in 2015, GRRM confirmed Brienne is a descendent of Dunk, this fic was written based on the Sansan take but inserted Brienne instead of the Hound in 2016).

2016 What is "Ashford Tourney Theory" and what does it have to do with Sansa Stark? (answer on Quora by the most popular GoT/ASOIAF person on the site so wanted to include, but this is not referenced by Jonsas much)

2016 NOVEMBER The Tourney at Ashford and Sansa's Suitors

Okay, I know that Ashford is used as evidence for the Jonsa ship and while I don’t think its enough to say whether Jonsa is endgame or not. It is suggestive of some kind of partnership between the two.

2017 JUNE Besides Jon, who do you see as a candidate with a good chance of being a romantic interest for Sansa? (not much focus is on Jon in this post although it is written by a Jonsa, but in 2018 it's reblogged with these interesting observations by @starwarsprincess1986

Prediction: Jon Snow aka Prince Aegon Targaryen Possible Supporting evidence: How each of these men have some connections to Jon Snow: Joffery Baratheon -is seen as a true born son and heir to iron throne, but is really a bastard (Jon is seen as a Bastard, but is really a true born son and heir to the iron throne) Tyrion Lannister -gets his face practical cut off at the battle of Blackwater (Jon gets his face torn up by orell’s eagle) both Tyrion and Jon receive these wound in Book 3: A Storm of Swords Willas Tyrell -has a bad leg (Jon gets shot with an arrow in his leg when escapes the wildlings) Willas is semi-engaged to Sansa and Jon received this wound in Book 3: A Storm of Swords Harrold Hardyng -It is said that Harrold has the look of Jon Arryn in his youth. (Who is JON Snow named for? The man who fostered Ned Stark as a young boy maybe?)

2017 OCTOBER Possible reference to it on Game of Thrones by @thelawyerthatwaspromised

2017 NOVEMBER a helpful jonsa graphic by @ladywolfmd

2018 MARCH Sansa: Five Suitors For Her Claim and One For Love by @storyswept

[much more, click to read]

2018 APRIL One point (plus some extra ones) on the Ashford theory and Jonsa by @occupyvenus

The most common argument goes something like this: “What matters is the surname they are known as. Duh. Joffrey counts as the Baratheon even though he’s a Lannister. Duh. Or rather a Waters or a Hill. Duh. And Jon would count as s a Snow. Duh. Not a Targaryen. Duh. It’s not about their secret, real name. Duh. ... So let’s look at who Sansa actually gets betrothed/married to … She is promised to Joffrey “Baratheon” (even though he isn’t actually one), to Willas Tyrell, Tyrion Lannister, Harrold “Hardyng” (even though he’s supposed to take on the name Arryn once he ascends as Lord of the Vale) and since Sansa wouldn’t get engaged/married to her supposed half-brother Jon Snow, but to her cousin Jon (or whatever) Targaryen … I would say it fits the pattern just fine. It fits perfectly even. This interpretation also eliminates any issues that come with Joffrey being the “Baratheon” champion and since at least three out of five names do indeed fit perfectly without question, I really see no reason to try extra hard to discredit it. She wasn’t betrothed to Joffrey Waters or Hills or Lannister, but to Joffrey … Baratheon. Just as she wouldn’t be betrothed to Jon Snow or Stark, but Targaryen. 

2018 APRIL Have you heard of the tourney of Ashford theory? by @viking-hel

It became a historically important tourney due to the death of Prince Baelor, heir to the IT. I think that is another aspect that should be considered, perhaps for the show, though that is only my thought: the death of a Targ heir revolving around this theory is interesting to say the least.

2018 JULY Aegon or Jon Gifset

2020 SEPTEMBER How would you respond to detractors of the Ashford Tourney theory... by fedonciadale

There is also no representation for Theon Greyjoy who at one point wanted to marry Sansa Stark, there is also no representation for several other men who play a part in Sansa’s storyline and have a ‘romantic’ interest in her.

2020 SEPTEMBER I don’t ship Jonsa, but I don’t get people who deny the ashford tourney parallels. by fedonciadale

2020 OCTOBER JON SNOW X SANSA STARK - BOOK HINTS by @ladyofasoiaf

[much more!]

I searched some of the popular/neutral tumblr blogs and at this point they were maintaining it was a coincidence (example, again, DO NOT HARASS ANYONE FOR THEIR TAKES). I also noticed that this theory was so ubiquitous and self-explanatory, people started merely linking the Tourney at Ashford Wiki with no reference to AltShiftX or the two dueling origins. This brings us to the most comprehensive look at the theory yet which comes almost a decade after it was first introduced to the ASOIAF fandom...

2021 MARCH THE BLACK PRINCE WITH THE WHITE GUARDIAN by @butterflies-dragons

[much, much more, you gotta read the whole post]

2021 APRIL Another criticism of the Ashford theory by fedonciadale

“Prince Valarr died!” Jon: *is dead*

2021 MAY Alt Shift X (again, this time confessing he accepts jonsa - I'm linking Stumpy's reaction here.)

2021 JUNE About the Ashford Theory by @istumpysk

About the Ashford Theory, it should be noted that Lady Ashford didn't end up getting forcibly married to Tybolt Lannister, and yet that did happen to Sansa. The Ashford Theory already doesn't apply fully to the letter. So no the Targaryen suitor doesn't necessarily have to die just like Valarr nor does it mean Sansa will end up alone. It is all up in the air.

2021 JULY Another parallel... by @istumpysk

Another parallel between the Ashford tourney and the Vale tourney: Dunk was falsely accused of kidnapping a prince and we all know Shadrich is almost certain going to try to kidnap the northen princess. I think he is the third and last anti-Duncan knight in Sansa history together with The Hound and Dontos, hopefully his interference in the Vale tourney will lead Sansa to her true Duncan-like knight: Brienne.

2021 JULY Lyonel means Lion by @esther-dot

2021 JULY The way i laugh every time i think about the Ashford theory... by @istumpysk with an interesting reblog by @ladyqueenofwinter

Valarr = The Black Prince Jon: Dark-haired Prince of the Seven Kingdoms = a Black Prince Loras = Knight of Flowers Jon: Night's Watchman = Black Knight on the Wall Jon: the Blue Winter Rose, growing on the Wall in the House of the Undying = A flower Jon = Knight of Flowers Jon is a Black Prince and a Knight of Flowers!!!

2021 JULY We really should have spent more time obsessing over the Ashford champions by @istumpysk

1. Lyonnel Baratheon: A Baratheon lion that declared himself Storm King for a short while. 2. Leo Tyrell: Oberyn says the reason why Willas was allowed to participate in a tourney so young is because his father wanted him to be another Leo Tyrell. Willas is twice Sansa' age which is something that bothered her but end accepting since "he might be the only champion she would ever have", in The Hedge Knight, Leo is describe was having "silver in his hair and a grey beard" which together with the fact he has old enough to comand forces in the First Blackfyre Rebelion thirteen year before suggest he was the oldest between the champions in the Ashford tourney. We dont know the exact year Willas was born but by fans calculation is probably the same year as Tyrion, which may make him the oldest of Sansa suitors just like Leo is the oldest champion. 3. Tybolt Lannister: we don't know much about him besides the fact that he made a alliance to the Starks to defeat rebelling Greyjoys but we know that he had a younger brother who has exceedingly clever, quick of wit, a notably bookworm and has also suspect of commiting kinslayer by murdering his niece which made him hated by the nobles and the smallfolk. 4. Humfrey Hardyng: The last name is already a big thing since he and Harry is the only Hardyngs in the books but there the possible foreshadowing that just like him, Harry will be injured in the Vale Tourney. 5. Valarr Targaryen: Dark haired half Targaryen, son of the heir to iron throne, wear all black and is accompanied by a white protector. Do i need to say anything more?

2022 SEPTEMBER Ashford Tournament! (long post, scroll down for all the relevant quotes!) by @istumpysk

But they were all dead now, even Arya, everyone but her half-brother, Jon. Some nights she heard talk of him, in the taverns and brothels of the Ragman's Harbor. The Black Bastard of the Wall, one man had called him. - The Blind Girl, ADWD x Six pups they'd found in the late summer snows, him and Robb; five that were grey and black and brown, for the five Starks, and one white, as white as Snow. - Jon XII, ASOS x The last pavilion was Prince Valarr's. Of black silk it was, with a line of pointed scarlet pennons hanging from its roof like long red flames. The shield on its stand was glossy black, emblazoned with the three-headed dragon of House Targaryen. One of the Kingsguard knights stood beside it, his shining white armor stark against the black of the tentcloth.  [...] And the black-and-white knight, Lord Gawen Swann, challenged the black prince with the white guardian. - The Hedge Knight

That last line makes me laugh each time. Why do we even need any meta lmao.

2023 NOVEMBER lysa wanted to marry sansa and robert arryn, does that debunk the ashford theory?

...Sansa is about to be present at a tourney in TWOW, she's talking about her favor, there's this whole pre canon thing about a Stark girl and Targ at a tourney, so it doesn't feel weird to think maybe Sansa was on Martin's mind. And of course, in canon, Sansa is the maiden fair which is interesting when the Ashford girl is referred to as fair maid, and this idea of a revolving door of champions is very reminiscent of Sansa's unfortunate experiences thus far, with men who help her, fail her/hurt her, and then on to the next (the Hound, Tyrion, Dontos, LF...). A potential match with Sweetrobin doesn't feel like an obstacle to everything that does make this feel like a thing, especially when, it is not merely the matching names that connect the two, it's the details that create all sorts of parallels with Jon, making him seem like the canon Targ this will ultimately be about. Let's revisit that revolving door of "champions" for Sansa, who is the guy who killed her monster in canon?

2024 JANUARY Sweetrobin also doesn't count as a suitor because... by @catofoldstones

2024 MARCH The Ashford Theory and my patience running thin by @catofoldstones

[much more!]

2024 APRIL Jon or Aegon Gifset

2025 JUNE baelor breakspear at the tourney at ashford meadows by @transdimensional-void

something that stood out to me about the manner of baelor's death at the tourney is how reminiscent it is of rhaegar's death at the trident. [... ] it's also notable that baelor's name is linked to the story of bael the bard, yet nothing we know about baelor himself calls to mind any part of that myth, except perhaps the part about him being murdered by a family member. rhaegar, on the other hand, is one of the series's best-known bael the bard figures. [...] if baelor is meant to call to mind rhaegar, then it seems very likely that baelor's son, valarr, is meant to call to mind rhaegar's son...

Obviously this isn't comprehensive, but I wanted to collect a variety of posts on this topic into one spot, so we could easily see how it evolved. While reading through old Jonsa blogs to find these posts, I was really struck by the way the initial "it's the names" was enough to convince a lot of people of the possibility of canon Jonsa, but then, instead of it ending there, Jonsas just kept on growing the theory. As recently as this week we're getting new posts about it, strengthening the theory even though it is now nearly 13 years since that initial observation was made.

(Illustration at the top by Howard Pyle )

[transmutationisms]

Hey. So that claim that stimulants do completely different things for people who “have ADHD” and “don’t have ADHD” is obviously bullshit but I was wondering if you happen to have read anything I could refer to about that

Okay I want to try using this to break down how I would actually approach this type of question, inspired by some posts I've seen recently about how to read and analyse things that are wrong / bad / liberal.

I don't have, off the top of my head, a published & refereed source that discusses this particular claim. I'm pretty certain there is at least one such thing out there. But I'm also pretty confident it won't be very good. The claim it's responding to is relatively historically recent, & is cloaked in still-fashionable neurobiological terms. Also, the literature on ADHD is bad in general, and so is the general quality of the kinds of imaging studies that are cited to support such claims about 'brain differences.'

If I were writing a literature review or a historiography, here is the part where I would need to go find these things anyway. Then I would have to explain how they make their arguments and what's missing, and depending on the scope of the piece I might have to explain my own philosophical / political position, and advance my methodological critique of the literature I just spent several days finding & reading.

Fortunately I'm writing a tumblr post & my sense is your actual question is "how can I better argue against this obviously bullshit claim," so I don't have to do any of that. There's not really much point sinking that kind of time and effort into finding a source I already think is unlikely to adequately make the argument I'm looking for anyway.

Instead, I would now look at the claim itself. What must be true in order for it to hold?

ADHD brains differ from non-ADHD brains

This difference is relevant to the action/metabolism of stimulant drugs

Okay, claim two on that list requires dealing with psychopharmacology & very exact physiological mechanisms, which means a shitload more reading and most of it punishingly dry and technical. Sad & bad.

Fortunately, though, I already know -- from every reading ever, as well as my experience existing on earth -- that ADHD is not diagnosed by any sort of brain scan, anatomical observation, blood test, etc, but by subjective (yes, even if they made you do it on a computer) clinical observation. Hmm, that's super weird for something that is a 'brain difference.'

I also know that psychiatric categories are difficult to correlate with biological observations even where those observations do exist, because an imaging study on ADHD is necessarily only pulling the 'ADHD sample' from people already diagnosed with ADHD. It's circular. Philosophically this is the same problem I laid out in section one of 'What is an alien?' (which you can read & understand even if the main topic of the essay doesn't interest you).

And I also know that brain imaging studies generally are riddled with serious methodological flaws (post discusses the dead salmon study among others) and don't actually produce meaningful, replicable biological distinctions in any kind of correlation with psychiatric categories (also, variation within categories is also very high).

Oh, wait. Now the claim above looks like patent nonsense with zero philosophical foundations. The burden of proof is on whoever's making that claim, & the basic underlying principles are wrong. Yayyyy.

This exercise means 1) I've sat down and reasoned through my own opinion, giving me clarity on why I think what I do and what evidence would change my mind and 2) from now on, when I see someone else make the claim I'm responding to here, I'll know off the bat that they haven't done the same & are starting from a very credulous attitude toward very low-quality research. And I didn't do this by trawling the literature until I found the exact thing I was looking for, but by thinking through the arguments and evaluating a body of literature that is generally explicitly hostile to the kinds of critiques I make & respect.

[toothplant]

Sammick Soulmates/Fated mates (a/b/o)

I know that Remmick probably happened to come to Mississippi by chance, but what if he sensed Sammie when he got the guitar all those years ago, or even further back? (also partly thanking/crediting cuti3_p13 on ao3 for this concept :D Love the idea of Remmick being connected to Sammie in some way...)

I feel like they were already fated/connected in some sense since Remmick arrived in America around the time Sammie was born (pointed out elsewhere). So what if Remmick felt a sort of pull to Sammie? Having a feeling, an instinct, to come to America (and begin a new community along the way, but we all know how that went < : P ) wandering the North until he feels a beckoning in his bones southward. He doesn't know why yet, but there's just a force, an instinct telling him something, a great...something... is waiting for him, something he's spent a long time searching for. A Filí, perhaps? Or whatever they're called here.

But there is a problem. The beacon not strong enough; southward, yes, but where? How much south? How much west or east? He's eager and enchanted, but he needs a more specific signal, something more than a general direction down. Akin to a game of Hot and Cold, the vampire slow and steadily wanders his way south, and the pull, mile by mile, becomes more specific, but still not enough. Remmick travels far and wide, all over until he can discern the weak pull is coming from somewhere in the Deep South.

13 years in, while he's resting somewhere on the west side of Texas, this pull suddenly becomes stronger than ever, shaking him awake inside the abandoned cottage. East, his instincts screamed, go east. He heads out that night, dead set on finding the source of this need. When he dreams, he dreams of a person: a young, boy with dark skin that reflects so prettily the glow of moonlight; with round, brown eyes that shimmer with life and optimism; with a smile so bright it would rid him of his yearning for the warmth and beauty of the sun. He holds a well-kept guitar that pierces the veil that for so long has isolated him from his kin. He dreams of hope.

This hope fueled his hunger as he damn near turned the South upside down looking for this person. This hope comforted him on nights when the beacon, the person, felt so close he could hold them but actually nowhere near, shuffling his burned frame under a cave, or abandoned hut, or, in dire circumstances, dirt. Letting the burns on his skin turn to warmth in his frigid chest, or the deeper-than-usual pit in his stomach be filled with great fantasies upon finally being where he belongs.

Several years later, after mistaking this beacon for a woman in the Choctaw tribe and damn near dying because of it, he sees it. After he turns those two Klansmen, he gets a pull so strong he damn near sprints out of his skin trying to follow it. His beacon, his star, he's finally found it. Just as he's always dreamed of, piercing the veil and surrounded by fire. Finally, he's here.

BUT BECAUSE I'M ALWAYS ON MY A/B/O BULLSHIT, HERE WE GO >:PPPPPP

Remmick arrives a year or two earlier, being chased but finding refuge in the woods. He arrived in Mississippi a day ago, the pull guiding him to the hot, humid delta. But something was different; there was a smell. Faint, but rich and sweet. It was addicting, something he hasn't felt in centuries. Ever since he landed in this forsaken country he's had debilitating ruts, his time spent searching for the beacon hindered for days just to inflate his knot around his hand and cover himself in his own seed. But the omega that would appear in his dreams--dark-skinned, beautiful, and bright--would assuage his discomfort when he got overwhelmed. He knew this omega was somewhere near the source of the pull; hell, he might even be it.

He couldn't wait to meet him. Meet the powerful, blazing omega that could pierce the heavy veil as he'd visioned, that now, after centuries upon centuries upon centuries of isolation, cold, and darkness, gave him hope and will and purpose, if not for anything else, to find him. He's been without a mate for so long; his mate-to-be long ago died before they could seal the bond, and the attempts to court after never came to fruition, not after they saw who he was. Forcing a bond not only leads to pain and misery, but is incredibly traumatizing for both parties, as he's come to experience. The lone alpha has wandered this earth with only the stars to keep him company, but after so long, God has finally taken pity on his tortured soul. He's given him another chance.

And the chance smells utterly divine. His mouth is drooling something fierce since as he makes his way closer, the feeling in his body beckoning him so close he can feel it even in his sleep. After he narrowly escapes his end with the Choctaw, he smells it.

Hears it.

A voice deep, alluring, and smooth like butter on a skillet; a scent, rich, sweet, and mouthwatering. So many conflicting emotions swell up in Remmick. He wants to laugh. He wants to cry. He wants to bite. He wants to kiss. He wants to seize. He wants to caress. He doesn't know what to do except make his way through the foliage, uncaring about the way his drool wets his neck and tinged shirt or how his own earthy smell pours out in thick waves. There's a tent forming in his pants, but he has enough sense to fight it away.

A clearing.

A dilapidated shed, rather average in size, houses the source of all he's been searching for, strumming a well-kept, black and silver guitar. That heavenly voice, that delicious smell, that bright smile, that dark skin, those brown eyes; that pull, that beacon, that source of light and hope and everything else he's ever dreamed of.

His home. His omega.

[a-queenoffairys]

Code Lyoko Chronicles 2.0

The Code Lyoko Chronicles are a series of 4 sequel books originally released in Italian in around 2010. Set a short while after the season 4 finale, parts of book 1 recap a story similar to the TV series but with a number of small changes (there's no RTTP for example) while the gang uncover some new secrets in the Hermitage that set them on the path to finding Aelita's mother, Anthea. But XANA survived and is coming back for revenge, and the gang's investigation into the secret history of Franz Hopper, Project Carthage and the Supercomputer puts the men in black on their trail as well, not to mention the shady Green Phoenix organisation who funded Hopper's work.

The books were published in a number of languages, but not in English - so that's where the fans come in. As one of the first translation projects we did for CodeLyoko.fr, finishing in 2014, the original completed English release was pretty rough. 10 years later, armed with more translation sources, better resources and many years of translation experience, I decided to take another crack at it. And after many months of hard work and procrastination, I've produced a version 2.0 that I'm pretty happy with.

Links and notes on the various changes under the cut!

New translations!

My co-translator Kelsey and I didn't have a lot of serious translation experience when we picked up where Rhys Davies left off in his English translation project, and we were definitely prone to making mistakes. And it didn't help that for books 3 and 4, a few things got lost somewhere in the process of the text being translated from Italian > Spanish > French > English. I revised our original translation and this time I referenced multiple sources to try and make sure I got the interpretation right. It won't be perfect, but it's definitely better than our original attempt!

The second half of book 2 was based on the official French version, which I discovered was slightly condensed and abridged to lower the page count. The new English translation expands the text to restore the parts that were omitted. I also changed the title from The Nameless City to The City with No Name - there was never an official English translation, but I did find a marketing document with the titles listed in English, and that was the only one that differed.

Here's a page comparison with a few changes, mostly minor, but one big change to the context of Odd and Ulrich's conversation. With my apologies to Kiwi for the original mistranslation.

New formatting!

I got better at formatting Word docs and realised I should have the text alignment set to justify. The books look a lot neater now!

Accessibility!

I added alt text descriptions to all the images, and the PDFs all have a proper table of contents now so you don't have to scroll to the end of the book to find the navigation.

(Note I don't have a lot of experience with detailed image descriptions and I haven't done much testing with a screen reader - feedback is welcome from people who know more about it!)

New scans!

The centre of each book has several colour pages with images and text to supplement the story, and some of the original scans were quite small or had part of the image disappearing into the spine of the book. And the only way to fix it seemed to be to obtain physical copies of the books (probably in Spanish), pull the pages out and scan them flat. So I did. And I think they look great. (Black lines added to hide spoilers.)

My original intention was to upload these to CodeLyoko.fr, but I haven't been able to do that yet, so for now they'll just be available on Google Drive. This translation wouldn't have been possible if not for the other people on the fanslation team - not just my fellow translators, but also all the people who worked on scanning, formatting and editing. Special thanks also to Rhys Davies for kicking off the English translation. You can read more about the Chronicles and the fanslation project here on the website. (Yes I still need to revise the translation of those pages too. Someday.)

So yeah, it's taken a while, but I'm glad I can finally put out a better version of these books for people to discover. Enjoy!

Version 2.0 PDFs here! (Google Drive) ePub versions coming soon.

[delulujuls]

his eyes | mv33

hi! you asked about part two for the mad dutchman and the fearless dutchess so i delivered (its still hot, fresh from the oven). i'm not sure if i like it but don't worry, for sure i will write something about the mad dutch duo in the future. but now enjoy this one!

summary: eyes can say a lot so where it comes to reveal feelings there is no place to hide

warnings: none, mentions of car accident

pairing: fem!redbulldriver x max verstappen

Max's eyes were beautiful.

They were always beautiful when they had small wrinkles around them caused by smiling. Always then, they were the color of a cloudless sky on a warm july morning. They were beautiful even when there was a storm raging inside. They were dark and agitated then, but still beautiful. But they were beautiful in a terrifying way, because at that moment there was no trace of a smile on Max's face, and the only warmth was the rage burning in his veins.

Y/N could have sworn she had never met another pair of eyes like Max's, so whenever she could, she allowed herself to drown in them. Even during arguments, when they were shouting and calling each other names, his eyes were beautiful. However, they lost all their beauty when they were struck by fear.

When Max was scared, his eyes faded. The july sky was covered with clouds and the turbulent sea was shrouded in fog. Y/N stopped noticing the fear in Max's eyes when he managed to break free from his toxic father and their karting years ended, replaced by Formula 1.

However, on that day when she woke up in the ambulance, the first thing she encountered was the cloudy sky in his eyes. Max wasn't scared; he was terrified to the core. When, after a few seconds, his brain acknowledged that his friend was alive, he sighed with relief. The sky began to clear.

"I never thought I'd be so happy to see those deceitful eyes of yours."

Verstappen smiled, squeezing his friend's hand.

"What happened?"

She asked with difficulty. Her throat hurt terribly; the hot smoke and fumes had taken their toll.

"You had an accident and lost consciousness. We'll be at the hospital soon."

"Accident is an understatement," a paramedic interjected, removing her drip from the hanger "You did a Grosjean from Bahrain 2020."

Y/N blinked several times and it took her a moment to connect the dots. Judging by the man's comparison, her accident must have been truly unpleasant.

"How's the car?"

"Just needs a wipe."

She rolled her eyes at her friend's words, and a moment later, she coughed. Quickly, she put her oxygen mask back on.

"Don't worry about the car," Max said, still holding her hand. "The most important thing is that you're back with us."

"At what cost? At least, being unconscious spared me from looking at you."

She replied sarcastically, pulling the mask slightly away from her face. Max chuckled quietly at her words, relieved that she still had the strength to joke after everything. She returned his smile. She still didn't fully grasp what had happened or what she had been involved in, but the feeling inside her body told her it must have looked bad. The last time she saw fear in Max's eyes was years ago.

But something had changed after that. Since her accident, she noticed that Max's eyes looked at her differently. In a way she had never seen before, a way she couldn't compare to anything else. They looked at her with unimaginable gentleness and tenderness. They looked at her with love.

"You're damn stubborn, you know that?"

Max said when barely two weeks after the accident Y/N, using crutches, appeared in his garage. He didn't say it maliciously; he was just genuinely worried. He put down his water bottle and approached his friend, gently hugging her and pulling up a chair for her.

"I'm glad to see you too."

She replied, leaning her crutches against the chair and sitting on the workbench.

Max sighed and shook his head. Since the accident, Y/N had been a constant source of concern for him.

"What?" she asked, glancing at him, "I'm not getting into the car, don't worry."

"You should be resting."

"I am resting, see?" Y/N pointed to her makeshift seat, "More comfortable than a bed."

Max was about to reply, but he was called to take his place in the car. Friends exchanged glances one last time and as he left the garage, Y/N hopped off the bench and approached Christian's workstation, taking a seat next to him. He smiled at her and handed her headphones.

"Good to see you, Y/N."

"Some would prefer me not to be here."

She replied, glancing at the monitor. Christian smiled at the thought of Max, who was very concerned about his friend.

"He was really worried about you, like we all were."

"I guess I'm just not used to Verstappen seeing more than the tip of his own nose."

The man laughed at her words. She was absolutely right; Max's reputation could be unpredictable. However, lately, his behavior had changed noticeably, evident to everyone in the paddock.

When the training session ended, friends returned to the hotel. Max kept pace with Y/N, ready to catch her if she stumbled. Moving on crutches wasn't problematic for her, though.

"Don't look at me like I'm an eighty-year-old grandma."

She said, seeing his gaze as they reached her room and she plopped onto the bed with a heavy sigh.

"I'm not looking at you like that. We both know that you are slower than this only in a car."

Y/N grabbed a pillow and threw it at him and he laughed, effortlessly catching it. They looked at each other for a moment in silence, but Y/N lowered her gaze when she noticed his eyes doing it again. Looking at her in that way.

"Christian said you were worried" the girl said, after a moment gathering enough courage to look at him again, "Really?"

"I thought I was pulling a corpse out of that wreck. Of course I was worried."

She lowered her gaze again, focusing on her hands. Max squeezed the pillow in his hands and sat next to her.

"Thank you."

She said softly. Even though she had thanked him earlier, she knew that no amount of gratitude would match the level of his deed. She turned her head towards him and their gazes met again. He smiled.

"I knew you'd do the same. You've always got my back, no matter how angry you are with me."

Y/N snorted and nodded. Max was absolutely right. Although some time had passed since the accident, they hadn't had a chance to talk about it. Not about the accident itself, but about what changed between them. Because something definitely had changed.

"Can I ask you something?"

She spoke up, glancing at him. He nodded.

"Did what happened change anything between us?"

"What do you mean?"

Max tensed a bit. Although he didn't move an inch, after so many years spent together, you could pick up every detail.

"You're behaving differently toward me."

She explained. He looked at her attentively.

"You're more affectionate. I've never felt something like that from you before."

Max lowered his head and interlaced his fingers. He wasn't sure how to put into words what had been swirling in his head for some time and growing stronger with each passing day. So, he decided to go for honesty.

"When I was pulling you out of the car, I had no idea if you were alive. Riding in the ambulance, I wondered if I would ever be able to talk to you again and apologize for that senseless argument."

He took a deep breath and rubbed his face with his hands.

"When you woke up and looked at me, I thought I'd cry with happiness. That's when I realized how much you mean to me and how important you are."

Y/N stayed silent, trying to absorb all the words he had spoken. She could feel the emotions quickening her pulse, so she decided to lighten the mood a bit and probe whether they were on the same page.

"If you had kissed me, I probably would have woken up faster."

Max felt as if someone had poured a bucket of cold water on him. He blinked several times and looked at his friend. She just smiled slightly.

"Kissed?"

She nodded.

For a moment, Max struggled to open his mouth to say something, but to no avail. He was in too much shock.

"Are you setting me up now?"

"I'm not setting you up, Max."

"Yes, like if I had kissed you back then, you would have woken up faster. But only to punch me in the face."

She laughed and fell back on the pillows, pretending to be dead.

"You have to check it yourself."

Max wondered for a moment if she was joking, but he didn't have time for further contemplation. She grabbed his shirt and pulled him toward her. He leaned on his elbow next to her head and looked at her face. Her gaze and a faint smile indicated that it wasn't just a silly joke.

Without hesitation, Max lightly touched her cheek and kissed her. She smiled and hugged him around the neck, returning the kiss.

When they separated for a moment to catch their breath, the eyes of the two met again and Y/N once again allowed herself to drown in the boundless blue of his eyes. The turbulent sea was calm and the july, sunny sky was cloudless. Everything was fine.

Everything was just how it supposed to be.

[calisources]

𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐐𝐔𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒.

All sentences on this memes are taken from different sources of literature, television and media about enemies to lovers trope and enemies and lovers trope with some angst thrown into the mix. Change pronouns, names and locations as you see fit.

Does it hurt? Loving someone who can’t love you back?

Break his crown, break his throne, rip his monarchy apart.

What are we doing?

You are capable of making my blood boil like no one else, and yet I feel a magnetic pull I cannot explain.

It’s not natural for someone to be as stupid as he is tall, and yet there you stand

Like whether you should kiss me or punch me.

Most of all, I hate you because I think of you. Often. It’s disgusting, and I can’t stop.

You make me feel things that shouldn’t exist. 

Whatever this is, we should stop. I have been. . .compromised.

There’s a fine line between love and hate, and maybe we crossed it a long time ago.

I never thought I could detest someone so much, until the day I realized I was falling in love with you.

We may fight like enemies, but deep down, we both know that our hearts beat for each other.

You infuriate me, challenge me, drive me crazy, but damn it, at the end of the day, I can’t resist you.

It’s that tension that makes this so irresistible.

You’re like an addiction I can’t break free from, even if I wanted to.

You’re the thorn in my side, the fire in my veins, and I can’t help but crave your presence in my life.

Loving you feels like a dangerous game.

You infuriate me, yet you’re the only one who truly understands me.

You scare me to my core.

There’s no denying the fire that burns between us.

If any two men desire the same thing, which nevertheless they cannot both enjoy, they become enemies.

I thought we had agreed not to lie to each other.

Tell me you don’t feel this between us. Look at me and don’t look away while saying it.

You claim me your enemy and yet, let me crawl into your bed every night.

You are the bane of my existence, and the object of all my desires.

Do you even know all the ways a lady can be seduced? The things I could teach you.

I did not asked for this. To be plagued by these feelings.

I tried to deny it for so long, but I don’t want to anymore.

Follow me around. Look at me as if you find me fascinating. Touch me, and say nice things to me. And then, you pull away as if you did nothing at all.

There’s no need for these games.

Well, you know that old saying, “Keep your friends close and make out with your enemies.

You read me wrong.  I wasn't trying to lead you on.

Is that all I am to you? A resource to be used in your scheme?

Stolas, don't act like what we have is anything more than you wanting me to fuck you, okay? You make that really clear all the time. But I just- I can't do it tonight, okay?

 You'll lay a man out for implying I'm a whore, but you keep calling me one to my face.

So, the only man that can have you is one who's already tried to kill you. That's logic.

It's like a little death. Several, in fact.

Oh Max, if you really hated Kyle you couldn't have slept with him.

So go on... kiss me... kill me... Do something.

I've often wondered what this moment would be like. Me... you tied up. 

Once this is over, we should really have angry sex.

Hate and love are not so very different things. Both are focused upon another. Both are intense. Both are passionate.

It just means you'd rather be with someone you hate... than be with me.

She's difficult and irritating, and she tries to hit me all the time.

We have a deal, what are you so afraid of?

Only I can hurt you this way. Only I can kiss you like this. 

You dragged me down and now I can’t quit you. 

This is the last time we do this.

Last night was also the last time. And yet, you keep coming back.

Better my mouth than my knife, right?

[leonw4nter]

Magnolia

[RE2!Leon x GN!Reader]

"After several successful nights of studying hard, your doting boyfriend has nothing but words of praise for your efforts <3" [fluff]

wc - 449

After finishing up on checking your practice sets, you hold your paper up in satisfaction. 35/35, a perfect score, a hard-earned perfect mark from all the nights and hours spent doing active recall and solving practice questions. You grin to yourself, feeling confident and prepared for a long test, proud of the fact that you managed to effectively study. You set it back down, slipping your reviewers and other study material back into its designated L-shape folder to place it inside your backpack. Your boyfriend and study buddy Leon reclines in his seat and stretches his arms above his head, his wrinkled white tee’s hem riding up slightly to reveal a sliver of pale skin.

“Congrats,” he softly says as his words melt into a yawn. “I’m very proud of you. That score wasn’t so easy to get, y’know.”

You preen on his words, chuckling softly as you zip your bag closed. “Yep but I managed to make it happen, thanks to your amazing guidance. Thank you.”

Your boyfriend pushes his glasses back up into his nose bridge before raking a hand through his cornsilk-tousled hair. “Hey, it’s all you. I was just here for moral support.”

He helps with organizing your desk, neatening it up as he stashed away other papers, pens, and blocks of multi-colored sticky notes. He offers to wash the mug you used and to throw away the scrap papers you used, ushering you to settle in bed first. In under 6 minutes, he’s cuddling with you underneath the sheets in your bed. You’re facing him, head cushioned by his arm as your own arm is slumped over his torso. You’re growing drowsy, but you don’t want to fall asleep just yet. Leon’s making it hard to stay awake, his free hand gently stroking and patting your head as he murmurs delicate praises.

“My intelligent, hard-working, incredible sweetheart.”

“I know you’re going to absolutely smash that test, you have enough preparation and the drive to succeed.”

“I love, love, love, love, love you. You’re a rockstar, you managed to stay positive and handled the pressure like a pro. You’re so strong for that.”

“You don’t know how inspiring you are, baby. You’re a champ and this will all be worth it, I promise you.”

You lose track of all his other words, falling asleep. He smiles to himself when he feels your breathing slow down, relaxing at his side as he places a silvery kiss to your head. His hand moves to rest on your shoulder blade, a comforting warm weight as you sleep. With a whispered ‘good night’, sleep tiptoes in and his body softens as he gives in to the soothing pull of slumber.

NOTE - Wrote up a short n sweet drabble as a writing exercise since I haven't written in a hot minute! This one's a little different because my usual works are 1-2K words but this one is just 400+ words so yk, trying something new here ;) I'll be gone for a bit since I have exams coming up and more projects after that, I'm going to miss writing for a bit but I'll try to find windows where I'm not really busy so I can write a lil smn smn like this :) This drabble is inspired by an irl experience-- the studying part, not the Leon as my boyfriend one (unfortunately-- I'm chronically bitchless). I came up with this idea after I imagined Leon hyping me up and being lovely after an intense study sesh :3 umm so while I was gone, I got a new iPad like 3 days ago :D I can play RE4 now :D!!! anyway, thanks for reading my fics!!!!!!!!!!! I <33333333 UUUUU!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The animated line dividers are made by cafekitsune , the images are made by me (sourced from Pinterest).

[maboroshi-no]

My Next Life As a Villainess: All Routes Lead to Doom! ~Pirates of the Disturbance Stellaworth SS

Series: My Next Life as a Villainess: All Routes Lead to Doom! ~Pirates of the Disturbance Source: Stellaworth Booklet Title: The Adventure of the Little One Author: Ririka Yoshimura (game scenarist) Synopsis: Katarina has become small after inadvertently opening a grimoire mixed among the romance novels brought by Rozy. Translation: maboroshi-no

Translation below.

The Adventures of the Little One

…It had been several days since the Weiss Pirates had confined us in the Vinculum.

We were spending our days in the care of the pirates.

Rozy, a member of the Weiss Pirates, had taken on attending duty for our room and brought us books, board games, sweets, and other supplies every day.

Thanks to this, I was spending days without being bored.

Katarina: Mmm~ This is so nice~

As I was reading on the living room sofa the Queed romance novel that Rozy brought me yesterday, I heard a big sigh.

Keith: No, Big Sister, this isn't nice at all.

Geordo: That's right, Katarina. We're detained by pirates, after all.

Katarina: Ah!

Looking at Keith and Geordo's astonished faces, I remembered that point.

Katarina: Of course, I haven't forgotten about it, but I just can't feel tense~ The pirates are all nice, after all…

And more than anything, all of the members of the Student Council were in the same room. Thanks to this, it felt like a training camp. Sophia was even reading a romance novel next to me while Maria and Mary were sitting on the opposite sofa, so it was hard to stay tense.

Keith: Just when I think it would be like Big Sister, it really is…

Nicol: Yes, I agree. But I think it's also because Katarina is the same as always that we can stay calm.

Geordo: What Nicol said indeed holds some truth.

Keith, Nicol, and Geordo quietly nodded to each other about something. As I was tilting my head in confusion, Sophia made a long sigh, probably because she just finished a book.

Sophia: What a beautiful story… Lady Katarina, have you read this one?

Katarina: Hmm… It doesn't seem like it.

Sophia: Then once you have read it, let's discuss it!

Sophia tightly grasped my hands. She was cute as always.

Mary: Lady Katarina! Didn't you say earlier that you wanted to play this board game after you have finished reading your book? Right, Prince Alan?

Alan: Y-Yes…

Mary said this with a smile while pointing to the board game on the table. Next to her, Maria was smiling gently.

Katarina: (A board game~ This looks fun too.)

All of the board games in the room were ones I had never seen in the Kingdom of Sorcier. Reading was nice but now I wanted to play board games.

There were many entertainment options, so there just wasn't enough time.

Katarina: Aaah, there's so much to look forward to!

As  I was smiling, I heard a chuckle. 

Rozy: I'm glad you're enjoying them. That aside, I have brought sweets so how about tea, everyone?

When I raised my face, Rozy had just entered the room, pulling a trolley carrying sweets and books. 

Katarina: Sweets…!

When I vigorously got up from the sofa, the nice scent of tea and cookies made my stomach growl loudly.

Rozy: Seems like I'm just on time. Here, help yourself. I've also brought various books from the library.

After saying this, Rozy put on the table yet another batch of what seemed to be Queed romance novels. Their bindings looked different from the Sorcier ones and I couldn't help feeling excited about their content.

Keith: *Sigh*… I wish you'd stop spoiling my older sister so much… 

Rozy: I'm sorry, Lord Keith. I just wanted to see Katarina's happy face...

On the trolley, Rozy promptly warmed teacups with hot water, steamed tea leaves with a teapot, and started preparing tea. Meanwhile, one of the books he brought strangely piqued my curiosity, so I picked it up.

Katarina: (Mmm? What's this…? Only this one looks very old…)

While thinking this, I casually opened it. At that moment…

Katarina: Waaaah?!

A dazzling light suddenly burst forth. Unable to keep my eyes open, I tightly shut them.

Maria: Lady Katarina?!

After Maria's flustered voice, I heard Mary's scream.

Mary: Lady Katarina, where are you?!

Geordo: Did something happen, Katarina?!

Everyone kept calling my name in panic. Then, after the light had finally subsided, I opened my eyes and next thing I knew, everyone had disappeared from my sight. On top of this, I was half-buried in some unfamiliar soft and fluffy thing.

Katarina: E-Eeeh~? What's this…?

Near me, there was a big book-like thing that wasn't there earlier. I must have been thrown into a strange place. As I was scanning my surroundings in confusion, I could hear Sophia's weeping voice from above.

Sophia: Lady Katarina has disappeared…!

Mary: I seem to remember something like this happening once before! Lady Katarina can't possibly be inside a book again…?!

I raised my face at the sound of Mary's voice. That's when I realized that everyone had become extremely big.

Katarina: (No, that's not it…)

When I looked closely, the big book-like thing was Sophia's foot, and the soft and fluffy thing was the carpet. In other words, I seemed to have become small. 

Mary: Lady Katarina! I beg you, please come out!!

Mary was shaking the book with a frantic look. From the look of it, no one had noticed I was there.

At this rate, I might get accidentally crushed under their feet. I frantically waved my arms to highlight my presence.

Katarina: Hey! Mary! Sophia! Maria! I'm here!

After my desperate shouts, everyone seemed to finally notice my voice.

But they were looking around, probably because they couldn't find me.

Geordo: Katarina? Where are you?!

Mary: Lady Katarina! Where might you be?!

They couldn't find me at all. As I was wondering if I had become that small, the door of the room opened.

Silva: Hey! What's that racket?

The one who entered the room was Silva, the captain of the Weiss Pirates.

His figure rapidly approaching was overwhelming, like in a dinosaur movie. I hurriedly slipped under the sofa not to get stepped on.

Geordo and Keith closed in on Silva.

Geordo: Katarina has disappeared!

Keith: We can hear her voice despite not seeing her. Maybe she is nearby but we can't see her, so please don't walk carelessly!

Silva: Haaa? What the heck are you talking about?

Unlike the puzzled Silva, Geordo and Keith were looking around with tense looks. Even so, they didn't notice me at all. I would eventually get stepped on at this rate, so I hurriedly rushed out of the sofa's shadow.

Katarina: Hey! Everyone! Here! Right next to the sofa!

After I had spread my arms as wide as I could and highlighted my presence, they finally seemed to notice me.

Sophia: Lady Katarina?! What happened to you…?!

After seeing this small me, Sophia widened her eyes.

After her, Mary covered her mouth with both hands in shock.

Mary: Lady Katarina has become palm-sized!

Alan: What the heck happened…

Alan was looking down at me with a bewildered face. Next to him, Geordo folded his arms and stared at me with a similarly astonished expression.

Silva: Isn't that Sorcier's magic?

Alan: But even if it is magic, is that even possible…?

Geordo: No one here can cast such magic. Which means the root cause…

Nicol: …must be her opening that book?

Nicol said this as if to finish Geordo's sentence, then picked up the book I had opened earlier.

Geordo: "The Adventures of the Little One".... What is this book?

Nicol: The title is written in Ancient Script. Isn't it a grimoire?

Everyone was deeply discussing that mysterious book. As I was wondering what a book written in Ancient Script was doing in the Vinculum, Maria went down on her knees and extended her palms to me.

Maria: More importantly, please come over here, Lady Katarina. It would be terrible if you were to be inadvertently crushed underfoot.

Oooh, as expected of Maria. She could be very considerate.

Katarina: Thank you, Maria!

While thanking her, I climbed on her held-out palms. After I did, Maria carefully raised them so she wouldn't drop me.

Maria's hands were so warm and smooth, they felt so nice.

When I flopped down without thinking, Keith's flustered voice resounded.

Keith: Big Sister! It would be terrible if you fell, so stay put!

Katarina: Ah…!

Katarina: (Oopsie, I can't do that! I couldn't help myself since Maria's hand felt so good…)

After Keith's scolding, I hurriedly fixed my posture.

Silva: That aside, even her clothes shrunk. What kind of workings is that?

Silva was usually cool but even he seemed impressed. He peered into me closely.

Katarina: Now that you've said it, it's indeed impressive workings. I have no idea why I've become like this either.

What could be the principle behind it? As I wondered this, I checked my body again.

My clothes were the same as usual, and aside from their smaller size, I couldn't find anything particularly different. As I was feeling impressed by that amazing magic…

Rozy: This is not the time to be impressed by something like that!

Rozy raised a desperate voice. When I looked at him, he had become pale and his face was grim.

Rozy: What should we do? I can't believe a Sorcier magic book was mixed among the ones I brought. Is there a way to turn Katarina back to normal…?

Geordo: More importantly, just as Maria said, our first priority is to ensure Katarina's safety in her current state. Holding Katarina in her hands like this will probably make Maria's arms tired, so how about moving to the inside pocket of my jacket, Katarina?

Geordo said this and held out his palms. Everyone gathered in protest.

Mary: Oh! I won't allow such an attempt to get ahead!

Keith: Neither will I! Given her current state, entrusting Big Sister to you would be much more dangerous! What if you hid her somewhere?

Geordo: How vexing. Do I look like I would do such a thing? 

Alan: I wouldn't put it past you…

Geordo: Did you say something, Alan?

Alan: No…

As I was quietly sitting on Maria's palms, everyone was loudly fighting about something in front of me. From the look of it, Keith wouldn't put it past Geordo to drop me carelessly.

I didn't want to meet that doom but I would feel bad if Maria's arms got tired…As I brooded over this, Sophia turned the pages of the grimoire and raised her voice.

Sophia: Oh my, this is…

Alan: …What's wrong?

Alan turned around because of Sophia's voice. Then, Sophia and Nicol, who was reading the grimoire with her, spread the book on the table.

Nicol: Please look at this.

Alan: This… The story is being rewritten?!

Katarina: The story is being rewritten? Prince Alan, what do you mean?

I raised my face in reaction to those unbelievable words and my eyes met Alan's. He made a flinching face for a moment, then held up the grimoire so I could see. For some reason, he was muttering something like, "With her size, her upturned eyes are foul play".

Alan: Here, look.

Katarina: Hmm…

Unfortunately, it was completely unreadable to me. It was written in Ancient Script.

When I looked back at Maria to ask for help, she read it in my place.

Maria: The events that happened among us seem to be written in this book.

Katarina: Eh? "Us"? …Like, all of us here?!

Following my shocked reaction, Geordo nodded.

Geordo: Yes. I don't know why, but all of our names are mentioned. And the dialogue written here is completely the same as the conversation we had earlier.

Katarina: Eeeh? Why is such a thing written in this book? Rather, how come you can all read it?

While I was shocked by what Maria and Geordo told me about the book's content, Keith made a stunned face.

Keith: Big Sister, aren't you supposed to have learned Ancient Script during our classes at the academy…?

Katarina: Umm…

Keith: I helped you study for the exams, remember?

Katarina: About that, well… It's, you know… Umm…

What I crammed right before an exam would always slip out of my head once it was over, so I couldn't read Ancient Script at all. I had the feeling Keith would start lecturing me if I honestly told him, so I tried to deceive him one way or another. Silva let out a sigh.

Silva: Before lecturing her, shouldn't we think of a way to turn her back to normal first?

Maria nodded to Silva's words.

Maria: I agree. Let's investigate the book so Lady Katarina can safely turn back to her original size.

Thanks to this, I could escape Keith's lecture. Feeling relieved, I peered down at the book while standing on Maria's hand.

Katarina: (Hmm~ But I still can't read a single character.)

Ancient Script was hard to read.

The others seemed able to read it, so they discussed the content while checking it over the pages.

Sophia: "The Adventures of the Little One"... Judging from the situation, the story of the small Lady Katarina has been written over the text here. Shouldn't there be clues toward a solution in the parts that haven't been overwritten yet?

Nicol: Right. On the first page, the story starts after Katarina has become small. Doesn't it mean she will return to her original size at the end?

Silva: It would be great if it didn't end with her getting even smaller.

Rozy: Silva! Don't say ominous things!

Everyone silently read the book while arguing like this, then…

Katarina: W-What's wrong everyone…?

As they turned the pages, everyone gradually turned pale.

Katarina: (Eh? What the heck did they read? Will things get that bad…?)

As I was feeling apprehensive, Silva, who seemed to have finished reading, sighed again.

Silva: I see, that's "an adventure" for sure.

Mary: This can't be true…! I won't be able to endure such peril befalling Lady Katarina!

What the heck was written inside? I looked up at Maria's face but she didn't say anything, her face still pale.

From the look of it, there seemed to be very problematic content written inside.

Katarina: Umm… What's written inside…?

When I shyly asked, everyone told me about the content while exchanging awkward glances.

It was like this. After they had turned small, the protagonist almost got bitten by a playful cat and almost got stepped on, but they overcame those hurdles and safely tamed the cat. After escaping danger, they turned back to their original size… it seemed to be that kind of story.

Knowing it would be a cat and not a dog made me feel a little bit relieved. I had been hated by dogs both in my past life and this one and they would bare their teeth at me, as if they had encountered their archenemy of many years. But if it were a cat, maybe it wouldn't hate me so furiously… I think. But it wasn't something I had confirmed.

Katarina: (Rather, with this size, wouldn't touching a cat take me to fluffy paradise?)

Nicol: Anyway, I think the most likely way to turn Katarina back to normal is to try the same things as what is written…

Maria: The same things?! I am absolutely against it. What if Lady Katarina were to be eaten by a cat?!

Silva: Rather, there's no cat, dog, or animal of any kind on this ship.

Nicol, Maria, and Silva were arguing with each other.

But I couldn't think of anything but touching fluffy cat hair at my current size.

Katarina: (Riding on a cat's back seems fun too~! If I buried my face on his stomach, I bet it would feel soft, fluffy, and nice….Aaah, I wanna touch a cat.  Isn't there one somewhere?)

Rozy: But when we think about it, the story is purposely rewritten as a different one, so I don't think there is a unique path to the end. For example, if we think Katarina staying small like that forever is fine…

Rozy's voice made me come back to my senses. If I thought staying small was fine, I might really get that end. No matter how appealing a cat's fluffy hair was, this would be troublesome. With this size, I could easily get crushed, and more than anything, if this was the world of the fan disk, I could meet my doom in someone's bad end by just getting tossed in the ocean.

Katarina: (Come to think of it, what if this development is one of my doom ends?!)

As I panicked over the sudden feeling of danger, Mary also turned pale.

Mary: Lady Katarina staying small like this forever…?! We can't allow this…!

As expected of Mary, she was a precious friend. She seemed tenderly worried about me.

Mary: …Wait, with this size, Lady Katarina won't be able to marry Prince Geordo, right?! That's right, if I built Lady Katarina the perfect doll house, we might be able to stay together forever.

Geordo: Mary? I can hear you, you know?

This time, it was Mary and Geordo who started a smiling banter for some reason.

With no solution particularly coming up, I pondered hard about what to do.

Maybe because I pondered too hard, my stomach growled.

I had become small but my stomach still made a perfectly audible sound. Everyone who was fighting suddenly turned quiet.

Katarina: (Umm, having them turn all quiet at a time like this is a little embarrassing…)

Rozy: Th-That's right. Now that I think about it, I was making preparations for tea. It's ready, so let's have tea and calm down for now.

Rozy took the plates of cookies and muffins from the trolley and put them on the table.

Because of the delicious smell, I couldn't help leaning forward from Maria's hand.

Katarina: Waah! It looks delicious!

Maria: Lady Katarina! It's dangerous, so please don't lean forward! I will move you to the table right now!

With a slow movement, Maria let me off on the table.  After she did, my spirits rose at once because of the sheer size of the cookies and muffins.

The cookie was so big I could embrace it with both arms, and the muffin was so much taller than me.

Katarina: It's okay if I eat this, right?

Rozy: Yes it's fine, but I should break it in half…

Katarina: I'm digging in!

Rozy started saying something but because of my excitement, nothing entered my ears.

I took the cookie in my hands, and when I took a bite…

Katarina: (Wh-what the heck?! It's so good!!)

Maybe it was because the Vinculum's chef was skilled as always, but the cookie was wonderfully delicious. Or maybe my sense of taste changed because I became small. It was a cookie, but at the same time, it wasn't. It was like eating some mysterious food.

Katarina: Mmm~Delicious!

With the hunger helping, I was vigorously eating.

If it were as always, I would have already finished it and asked for seconds, but…

Katarina: Amazing! No matter how much I eat this cookie, it doesn't disappear!

Thanks to my body becoming small, I could relish the cookie to my heart's content. This made me feel deeply moved. This body might not be so bad after all.

Mary: Oh, my… Lady Katarina embracing the cookie with both arms… What a lovely sight…!

Geordo: Yes. Katarina is so cute even when she is small.

Sophia: But someone might abduct her since she is so adorable. Big Brother, what should we do?

Nicol: It should be fine if we all keep an eye on her…

Despite the delicious cookies, everyone was just discussing something with serious faces. They didn't seem to be taking any at all.

Katarina: (What a waste! In that case, I need to eat all the other sweets after this one!)

That was the plan, but…

Katarina: Uuuh…

Maybe because my stomach shrank along with my body, my tummy gradually started to hurt.

Maria: Lady Katarina, you shouldn't push yourself so much…

Keith: That's right, Big Sister. If you push yourself so hard, you'll only upset your stomach…!

Maria and Keith were worried about me but I tightly embraced the still remaining half of the cookie.

Katarina: N-No! It's my principle to finish any food I touch…!

Silva: No, right now, that's not what you should work hard on.

Silva extended his finger to take away the cookie. But I bit into the cookie, refusing to let it go with all my might.

Katarina: munch munch munch…

Geordo: Aaah, goodness, Katarina! If you eat it so hastily, you will choke!

Keith: Big Sister! We won't take your cookie, so eat it slowly at least…!

Silva: Wow, wow, are you okay…?

While everyone was raising their voices, I was stuffing my cheeks with the cookie. It was a struggle and my stomach hurt, but I absolutely couldn't leave any behind and make waste.

While I was eating, the cookie, which was originally the size of my body, gradually became smaller. Before long, it had become the perfect size at my current size, and I finished it with one last bite.

Katarina: …Phew. I ate all of it!

Silva: Where the heck did it go in that tiny body…

Silva was looking at me with an amazed face. But I puffed out my chest with a sense of accomplishment.

Even with everyone trying to stop me, I could somehow stick to my principles and eat all of it. I splendidly did it!

As I was patting my stomach in satisfaction, my body suddenly started glowing.

Katarina: W-What's this…??

Alan: Hey, the grimoire is glowing too?!

After hearing Alan's voice, I looked in the book's direction. It was also glowing. The inside of the room became engulfed in a dazzling light, and I couldn't see anything anymore.

When the light finally subsided, everyone's faces were now below my line of sight.

Katarina: Eh?! I'm the one who became big this time?!

Silva: No, take a closer look, Katarina. You're just on the table.

Katarina: Ah!

When I looked down at my legs, I could see plates of muffins and teacups. 

That was close! I was just about to inadvertently kick the muffins away.

Keith: Here, Big Sister.

Katarina: Thank you, Keith.

While taking Keith's hand, I got off the table.

When I looked at everyone again, they finally looked like their usual sizes. In other words, I seemed to have returned to my original size.

Mary: Lady Katarina! Thank goodness, you returned to your original appearance!

Rozy: But why, suddenly…?

Following Rozy's words, I also tilted my head in confusion.

Why the heck did I suddenly turn back to normal?

Sophia: Oh…?

At that moment, Sophia, who was holding the book, blinked her eyes after looking at the back cover.

Sophia: Big Brother… Something is stuck here.

Nicol: Let me see.

Nicol took the book and carefully peeled off the thing stuck to the back cover.

Nicol: It is …a concluding note.

Katarina: A concluding note?

Nicol: Yes. It says, "When you overcome a hurdle standing in your way, the curtain on your adventure closes."

Rozy: A hurdle…

Silva: …standing in your way…

Following Nicol's words, for some reason, Rozy and Silva turned their eyes toward the sweets on the table.

Katarina: Umm…. In other words?

As I was wondering what it meant, Keith was the one who replied.

Keith: Maybe once the person turned small by the book overcomes a "hurdle", the story ends and they return to their original size…?

Katarina: Eh? But I don't think there was any hurdle…

Silva: So you're saying eating a cookie as tall as you is no hurdle? You really are a peculiar noble lady!

After Silva said this, I remembered doing my best to finish the cookie earlier.

While eating it, I indeed felt like I was seriously fighting the formidable enemy that was the cookie.

When I thought I might not finish it, I panicked and felt frustrated.

Mary: Then the "hurdle" Lady Katarina overcame was…

Alan: …finishing that cookie…?

After Mary and Alan asked this, Geordo checked the book. Then he nodded with a very indescribable look.

Geordo: This appears to be the case. The end has been rewritten to match that conclusion.

Alan: What the heck…?

Katarina: No way~ But I'm glad I could return to my original size.

The reverting method was a little unexpected but I was so glad I didn't have to be chased by a cat.

Katarina: (I probably couldn't have handled an adventure like that…)

Silva: So that makes it "The Adventure of the Little One, the Cookie Chapter"... That's so like Katarina.

Seeing Silva's awkward smile, I felt a little embarrassed.

Not only was my hurdle eating a big cookie, but it was also recorded in the book. It was embarrassing. As I was looking at the grimoire, wishing it would revert to the original story where I was chased by a cat, Geordo closed the book and bound it so it couldn't be opened again.

Geordo: Anyhow, let's ensure such a dangerous book can't be opened again. I can't possibly return it to the library so I'll hold on to it.

Silva: Oh, right. Let's do that.

Seeing Silva accepting so easily, Geordo and Alan made a surprised face.

Geordo: …Is it really fine? I think you can earn a considerable amount of money if you sell it, so I was so sure you would say you would keep it…

Silva: My credo is not to hold onto extra things.

This is when I finally remembered that Silva was a pirate.

Katarina: (Pirate… Now that I think about it, pirates sell rare things. Which means they would have eventually sold me to a freak show if I had stayed small?!  Aaah, thank goodness I returned to my original size!)

Maybe because I felt relieved, my stomach growled again.

With my body returning to normal, the size of my stomach seemed to have also returned to normal.

After my stomach resounded, everyone made relieved and astonished faces.

Alan: You, I swear… So you're still hungry?

Katarina: It can't be helped! A single cookie won't fill my stomach!

Maria: Then please have these too, Lady Katarina.

Maria held out to me the plates with the muffins.

As she offered, I took a muffin and ate it. When I did, a soft fluffy sweet taste wholly spread in my mouth.

Katarina: Mmm~! Delicious! This size really is the best to eat sweets. I want to enjoy various kinds, after all!

Earlier, I ate one so big I couldn't hold it with both arms and it was great and all, but now, I could eat muffins, macarons, cookies, and other sweets one after the other, and this made me way happier.

Geordo: Katarina just never changes.

Mary: Yes, but this is Lady Katarina's lovely side.

Sophia: Lady Katarina, please have these too!

Katarina: Sophia, thank you!

While drinking tea, I continuously ate the sweets that Maria, Mary, and Sophia offered to me.

Katarina: (Mmm… It's so delicious! So many flavors, this is happiness~)

But since I had become small, I wished I had tried things I normally couldn't do, like eating a whole cake by scraping the top off with a spoon, or swimming in a pool of jelly…or so I thought to myself.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Can we have Azul being very excited to see his parents again with random dorm members questioning if thats the same Azul that's their dorm leader?

Octavinelle A-kun? Octavinelle A-kun. (Context: Octa A/Kon is my Octavinelle mob student OC asdblasdiabis)

Family means Nobody is Left Behind or Forgotten.

Azul had reserved a slot of time early in the afternoon--before the Mostro Lounge's usual hours of operation--for his parents.

As soon as he swung open the doors, his painstaking efforts were made apparent. Every corner of the eatery had been scrubbed, buffed, dusted, mopped, and vacuumed to perfection. Their best china was out, a vase of freshly cut flowers and romantic candlelight marking the table he had saved. The live band he had hired (no expense spared) welcomed the Ashengrotto family with a soft, jazzy melody.

The music came with a chorus of clapping. Several Octavinelle students stood in lines, giving applause to the VIPs.

Azul ushered his parents inside. "Please, come in, come in! Right this way, esteemed sir and madam," he crooned, gesturing for them to follow him.

They settled into their seats and were immediately provided with menus and tall glasses of water, the ice so clear and free of impurities that one could see right through them. Octa A--Kon--their server, hastily pulled his hand back after delivering the items and bowed. How smoothly everything ran, like an orchestra with a skilled conductor.

"So this is what you've been up to at school," Mr. Ashengrotto murmured, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "I must say, it's impressive. Not every 17-year old would be capable of overseeing an entire cafe on top of studying and juggling the responsibilities of a dorm leader--well, perhaps your mother would."

"You really do take after me," Mrs. Ashengrotto laughed, "in more ways than I suspected you did."

"Fufufu. Yes, well... I did learn from the best." Azul straightened, lifting his chin proudly. "As it so happens, I also run a little... side business, shall we say. My peers come to me with their owes, and I do what I can to help alleviate those."

"If only your grandmother could have joined us... I'm sure she would be pleased to hear of your charity work. Perhaps we could pay her a visit on your next trip home."

His stepfather raised his brows. "Seems I've married into a multitalented family."

"Please do not talk down your own abilities. You're quite skilled in your own right, dear stepfather!" Azul wrung his hands together. "Why, I can only hope to match your legal prowess one day!"

“Haha, you’re a sweet talker too. Alright, I’ll take your professional advice. No more talk of business though—let’s decide what to eat.”

“Fufufu, as you wish.”

Kon warily kept his distance, a step or two farther from the table than he usually would. Staring, listening--it was strange, he decided. Never had he heard his dorm leader speaking with such sincerity, with kindness that wasn't laced with hidden ill intent.

Is this... Azul-senpai? He seems a little different around his family. Softer... squisher somehow.

"Pick anything you like off the menu. I'm confident that you will enjoy our dishes, made fresh every day with the best sourced, in-season ingredients possible.” Azul pushed up his glasses with one hand. “If you care for a recommendation, the fried chicken is sublime. It took us a while experimenting with spices to achieve its flavor and texture, but I believe those efforts paid off wonderfully."

“Fried chicken, your old favorite! You hardly touch it anymore.”

“M-Mama…! Er, I mean mother,” Azul quickly corrected himself. “That was back then! Now I am making a conscious effort to mind my health. I ask that you respect that."

“Alright, alright. Point taken.” Mrs. Ashengrotto tapped a finger on her menu. “I’ll take the fried chicken platter appetizer, for old time’s sake. We can split it so you can treat yourself too, dear."

"Oh no, I couldn't possibly..."

"One bite can't hurt," his stepfather urged. "Here, let's get a salad as well to balance it out."

"Th-That is not how nutritional intake works at all..." Azul sighed, a hand to his head. There was a pause, then he flagged Kon over. "... You heard them, correct? One fried chicken platter and the garden salad appetizers to start."

"We'll get those out for you right away," he said robotically. A line, rehearsed. "Take however long you need to decide your mains."

The mob student turned to scurry away and pass along the order to the kitchen. A voice stopped him dead in his tracks.

“And Kon-san?”

He looked back.

His dorm leader had his legs crossed, looking very authoritative as he sat up straight in his booth. He, the lackey, trembling before the boss.

“Y-Yes, sir?” Kon squeaked.

Azul simply smiled. "Thank you for your service."

The breath he had been unconsciously holding slipped out as a sigh. And he tried to smile back.

"Anytime, dorm leader.”

[scarlethyena]

I often see people bring up the fact that Cyrodiil was described as a jungle in earlier entries to the series and how they retconned it into the more temperate environment we see in Oblivion. And tbh I have mixed feelings on that. Because on the one hand, I can understand people's disappointment in not seeing the stranger aspects of Tamriel that we got in Morrowind (and in general, I def agree that Bethesda doesn't always do the best job of representing the lore in gameplay). But on the other hand, I'm going to be real, Cyrodiil being a jungle just doesn't make sense to me. Because it's supposed to be the heartland of the empire, and the empire is very clearly meant to be fantasy Romans, so why would their homeland be a dense jungle? Wouldn't the temperate, more Mediterranean climate, be more fitting for them? Not saying that to discount the idea, it's certainly different and it would've been interesting to see how they developed that further if they had continued down that particular path. I'm just saying that it seemed like an odd choice to start with and the Cyrodiil we saw in Oblivion feels more appropriate for the imperial home country. Overall tho, I think it's worth keeping in mind that this series is full of retcons. A lot of aspects of Tamriel looked quite different in the earliest games like Arena and Daggerfall, and really it took some time before the lore started to solidify a little more (I know they gave in-universe justifications for some of these changes, but still).

That said, I do think a fantasy game taking place in a tropical climate would be really interesting and something quite different from the standard fantasy we see that typically pulls from medieval Europe and thus has a comparable climate. That's one thing I greatly appreciate about Morrowind: it's different. The environment is alien, and you can make several comparisons with Dunmer culture, but I think it's safe to say that medieval Europe wasn't among their sources of inspiration. It's for this very reason that I would fucking kill for an Elder Scrolls game that takes place in Elsweyr or maybe Black Marsh. I've heard that the next one (may we see it released in our lifetimes) will be in Hammerfell, but that could be interesting in it's own right. Especially given what we're told about Hammerfell's political situation in Skyrim.

Also while I'm on topic, the Project Cyrodiil mod for Morrowind is fucking amazing, I recommend giving it a look!

[holybibly]

Object of Desire | OT8 |

Pairing: otx8 x reader

Genre: sugar daddy au, dark romance, smut, vampire au,

Word Count: 9.2 k

Summary: Caught in a web of deceit and forbidden pleasures, Nabi quickly learns that some obsessions can be deadly and love can bite.

WARNING: only!18+ Blood drinking, blood kink, obsessive behavior, voice kink, daddy kink, master/pet game, pet names, explicit sexual content, explicit language, emotional manipulation, possessive behavior, seduction, BDSM, polyamory, mirror sex, marking, voyeurism, power play, and more.

Disclaimer: I do not support themes of violence, obsession, possessiveness, or emotional or psychological manipulation. This book is intended for entertainment purposes only.

A/N: I honestly didn't expect so much interest in this story and I'm so happy to see these cute 'hearts' popping up in my notifications all the time. I'm an emotional mess. And so, even though I know I should be concentrating on "The Divine Rosa", there are too many other ideas in my head that I can't (won't) ignore, so here we go. "Object of Desire" will be different in style, so I hope you'll love it as much as my main work "The Divine Rosa". A promised bonus for everyone who voted for Seonghwa in the poll will be released this weekend. I'll try to release Woosan next week, the preview will be out this weekend. Comments are welcome, I really appreciate your reactions. If you'd like to be added to the tag list for this or future updates, let me know in the comments. Divider @saradika

Part 1. Do you want to make a deal with the Devil?

Now going out of town in the middle of the night with Yeonjun seemed like a bad idea.

A very bad one, I thought.

God, what was I thinking when I agreed to do this? Yesterday, this whole venture seemed like a great way to solve my problems, but now the prospect was not so rosy.

Sometimes I feel like a complete idiot, and this is one of those times.

Outside the window the dark landscape was sweeping by at high speed; the bare trees were shrouded in an ominous gloom, and only the dim light of the tall street lamps over the road was the only source of illumination to guide us in the darkness.

It seemed that the darkness around us did not stop Yeonjun from driving. His posture was relaxed and his hand was sure as he turned the wheel in the right direction, the diamond bracelet on his thin wrist sparkling with starlight. One of the many family jewels that Yeonjun treated with special affection.

In contrast to him, I couldn't relax and kept fidgeting on the leather seat made of black Iberian leather, no less.

Every part of my body was begging me to stop and come home before it was too late.  Not so, I had imagined that we were going to an elite club. I knew that we would be there late at night, but the fact that the club was way out of town came as an unpleasant surprise.

At the moment it's an hour's drive from Seoul and more than an hour and a half to the destination on the GPS.

The whole thing was strange and made me dizzy, or was it the thick smell of Yeonjun's perfume? It was a dense, smoky scent with a hint of vanilla. Powerful enough to draw the eyes of everyone around to its source, and sexy enough to make you want to kiss the naked skin of the wearer of this tantalising scent.

It would be several days before I was able to wash off the remnants of his perfume after our meeting, so much of it had eaten its way into my skin.

I glanced at Yeonjun; a stray yellowish-white light from the lantern momentarily illuminated his face, and a shadow of long velvet eyelashes fell on his pale cheeks. His black raven hair was streaked with flashes of platinum and gold. He looked otherworldly - I would even say demonic.

I felt a palpable shiver run through my body, as if someone had just dipped my heart into a bucket of icy water.

"Jun." My voice was terribly uncertain. "I don't think I can do this." I said as my fingers pulled down the hem of a short dress. The expensive material looked luxurious in a perfect shade of white and was decorated with a sprinkling of crystals. Yeonjun insisted that I wear it tonight and said that I would be grateful for it as soon as we got to the club. I don't think I'd ever choose something like that for myself, and not just because of its crazy cost; Jun's fashion preferences were so different from mine. He was a fan of overt sexuality and bold lines; I, on the other hand, preferred neutrals and comfort. "I have changed my mind; this proposal does not suit me at all. Maybe we can go back..."

Yeonjun smiled softly as he turned to me, but in the darkness of the drawing room the smile was more ominous than reassuring, his lips the most breathtaking shade of red I had ever seen.

Warning bells began to ring in my head. There are times when you can sense danger even before you are faced with it.

"Nabi, my dear, there is nothing for you to be worried about. We have already discussed this. Remember?" His hand was cold as he laid it on my knee. "I will take care of everything. You're my guest tonight, which means you're under my protection." The long fingers shrank a little, a kind of confirmation of his words. His fingernails were painted glossy black, and his fingers were adorned with several silver rings.

I would like to believe that nothing is going to happen to me, but my insides are tied up in a tight knot of fear.

Miss Kim Seoyun's words echoed in my head like thunder: "Humble yourself and surrender to destiny; you are where you are supposed to be.

When did I start believing all this? This is no time to panic, Nabi.

Everything will be fine.

To be honest, Yeonjun was never my first choice when I needed help, and I always tried to keep a certain distance from him for a number of reasons. There was something so predatory about him, almost animalistic, that lit up the red lights of danger, but I was desperate; student loans, rent, insurance and food were starting to pile up. I was in desperate need of money, and preferably a lot of it, fast.

The threat of being left out on the streets and being thrown out of university has never been as real as it is now.

The only thing that gave me the slightest bit of confidence was Jimin's assurance that I could trust Yeonjun completely and how carefree he was.

Damn, Jun looked like we were going on a spontaneous romantic trip instead of a closed elite club outside the city in the middle of the night.

I asked myself again, "Why did I agree to this?" Oh yes, money. A lot of money.

A few days ago, Yeonjun contacted me and offered to help me with my money problem. Of course, Park Jimin couldn't keep his big mouth shut and told him about my problems. He told me that one of his friends at the private club had a good deal for me. I could make a lot of money out of it.

The income was enough to pay off all my debts and the number of zeros on offer was enough to turn my head.

It was an unequivocal and desperate "YES" and at that moment I did not think at all about the consequences or the characteristics of this proposal.

Jun also promised me a lot of fun but after I signed the NDA and read the multi-page contract with its veiled meaning and rather vague wording of some specific points, doubts blossomed in my chest, and I began to understand what kind of fun was being discussed.

Looks like I made a deal with the Devil.

The dress was delivered on the eve of our trip, a few hours before Yeonjun's chic Ferrari pulled up outside my dorm room. The all-white gown, richly embroidered with blue topaz and opal, was incredible. The plunging neckline of the corsage barely covered the lace bralet of the same colour as the dress.

I have never seen my breasts look so full and so soft. I would even call it seductive. Everything I moved had to be clean and graceful; if I moved too sharply, the soft pink halos of my nipples would start to show. This was beyond the limits of my modesty. At one point, I could even feel Yeonjun's searing gaze resting on my cleavage. It was a carnal look with a shadow of hidden lust in the depths of the dark, shining pupils. It was the first time in the several years of our dubiously friendly communication that he had shown such a desire for me.

The dress and underwear came with four-inch heels. Of course, if my life had been in danger and I had tried to escape, there would have been no chance of success. Incidentally, I'm a terrible runner; I bet I couldn't have run more than ten meters before I collapsed with breathlessness. I should have gone to the gym when Jimin offered it to me.

Oh my God, Nabi, what the hell have you gotten yourself into?

Jun's silky voice pulled me out of my thoughts.

"You have such a tense look on your face, my darling." He purred. "We'll be there soon, Nabi. Try to relax; you're going to love "Crescent", I'm sure."

Why did it have such a sinister ring to it? "Crescent" - the name was sweet enough, I would say poetic, but the way Yeonjun rolled the word over his tongue as if he could feel its taste - thick and viscous - made the name something forbidden and sinful. Well, the idea of the cult was not so absurd to me. And that stupid prophecy never left my mind.

"You're where you should be..."

In the reflection of the small mirror in the car, I met my gaze. My pupils were dilated like those of a hunted prey. And though I tried to calm down, I could feel the cold, predatory touch of Yeonjun's hand all too well. Baby, it looks like you're going to get caught.

I ask myself again. Why did I find myself in this situation?

Dressed in the most luxurious designer clothes, like a real doll. Ready to become an exclusive blood donor for a very wealthy private community whose clients needed this kind of service, accompanied by one of Seoul's wealthiest heirs.

Now I can say: "Hey, Nabi, you really screwed up."

❤︎❤︎❤︎

A few days before the visit to "Crescent"

I looked again at the envelope lying on my bed. It had been delivered early in the morning, when the whole city was in a half-awake haze and the streets were not yet filled with coffee and fresh pastries from charming little cafes. The envelope was just left on the door, as if it were something unwanted, without bothering to deliver it to the to the addressee.

Why do we even pay for a delivery service?

He's been there for a couple of hours with the overdue bills and some flyers. I found him on my way to get a life-saving coffee, which had to be postponed due to the unexpected arrival of this mysterious object.

And that didn't make me feel any happier at all.

The thick, dark purple paper looked regal and too expensive to be mediocre; usually such envelopes contained bad news or invitations to a private bohemian reception, but it was too fancy for the former and impossible for the latter. Poor students can't get into high society unless they spread their legs in front of someone's wrinkled dick. And I wasn't inclined to do that.

I took the envelope back to my room and put it on the bed. It looked impossibly ridiculous—I would even say vulgar—surrounded by fluffy pink pillows and a variety of stuffed animals—a small army, as Jimin liked to put it. The envelope was a perfect match for its sender—luxurious, vulgar, and obscenely expensive—the very embodiment of Yeonjun's tastes. Judging by the ten missed phone calls and a whole bunch of messages, Jun wanted to make sure that the envelope had been delivered. He even linked it to Jimin, which almost offended me.

I still remember how, on a stupid whim, I had to dye his hair pink in the middle of the night while his sweet, high-pitched voice babbled something like, "Make me look like the Sugar Plum Fairy." After that, you swore to be absolutely loyal to me, Jimin.

All men do is lie.

I didn't have the strength to play in peepers with purple paper. It was giving me a headache. I also had to give an answer to one of the culprits in this situation; otherwise, the scale of the drama would reach the dimensions of the universe.

Come on, Nabi. It's just an envelope. It won't bite you.

After I had settled down comfortably on the bed, I decided to begin to reply to Yeonjun's message.

"I've received the envelope with the documents you told me about, Jun. I'm so grateful for your help." Okay, that was nice, maybe. Or at least I wanted it to be that way. I'm definitely not going to text him to say that I've been deliberately ignoring his texts and calls. Anyway, we had a pretty interesting relationship with Yeonjun. They were never very sweet. The second one was for Jimin, and as my fingers were hovering over the letters with the first apologies, the phone started to vibrate.

Our photo with Jimin flashed on the screen. We were on a trip to Pusan, his hometown. The golden beach in the purple sunset, smiling Chim and Taehyung—his gorgeous boyfriend-and me with a grimace, burnt shoulders and one shoe in hand, the other lost in an unequal battle with tidal waves. When you look at this photo, you can immediately say that it is summer, my least favourite season. I don't even know why it was necessary for them to drag me along on this trip. Most of the time I was on my own. While Chimin tried to lick Te's tonsils or fought off the frat boys who thought buying a sugary-sweet cocktail would magically open my legs. So that was how two weeks of my "fun" summer holiday went by.

And here we are again, back to the lie. Let's go; it'll be fun, they said.

How this photo ended up on Jimin's contact screen is still a mystery to me. But that's not the point now. I took a deep breath and picked up the phone:

"Hi baby."

"Oh! Did you really answer my call instead of ignoring it as usual? How can you treat me like this? I am your soul mate. The only light in your dark world; you don't love me at all?" There was the sound of a fake sob on the other side of the phone. "I've never been ignoring you, Chim." I didn't get to finish because I was interrupted.

"I've called you a lot—eighteen times to be exact. And you, my dear butterfly, haven't answered a single call. You're making me nervous, Nabi, and that's making Taehyung nervous."

"If you'd let me finish, then you'd know how much I love you and how impossible it is to ignore you." He couldn't see my smile. But I'm sure he could feel it in my words. "You are the only light in my boring life; will you forgive me? And please apologise to Tae. I know my sunlight can be quite unbearable sometimes. So why did you call me?"

"First of all, I wanted to know if you'd received an envelope from Yeonjun; you don't answer when he calls, so he called me. More importantly, have you opened it, Nabi?" He asked, sounding genuinely interested as he spoke.

"Yes, Chim, I got the envelope." I ran my fingers over the dark purple paper in a thoughtful manner. "And no, I didn't open it yet. I'm not sure I even wanna. Is this a good idea, Jimin? All of it?"

"You're being too dramatic, in my opinion. Jun wants to help you. All you have to do, my beautiful butterfly, is relax and accept his help. Sometimes sweet little girls like you just need someone who can solve all of their problems for them." Jimin told me in a patronizing way. In a way, I had to agree with him, but hey! I'm not a damsel in distress or a sugar baby; even though I was in trouble, it wasn't as bad as it looked. Jimin's a bit of an exaggerator. "It's not that hard. You go to the club with Yeonjun, have fun, and in the morning you have a few thousand dollars in your account. How does that sound for you?" Park Jimin had a very annoying way of being right all the time. It really wasn't that hard to accept Yeonjun's offer, earn enough to pay off your debts, and take a little time out of the eternal race for money. In the end, I have to think about myself sometimes.

"Okay, I'll listen to you and try to relax. One last question, though: Are you trusting Yeonjun?" And this question made me feel much more uncomfortable than the secret clubs, the elite society, and the complete financial crisis.

"Absolutely." Now his voice sounded confident and serious. "Nabi, Yeonjun and I have been friends for years. I'm sure you'll be safe around him. Jun wants the best for you, and so do I, and if you'll let us, we'll give it to you. You do know that you can ask me for anything, right?" The warmth and care that I could hear in every single word that he said to me warmed my heart. "I am not going to ask you for money."

"You're a stubborn, willful, and terribly categorical bitch, and now I can understand why you haven't had sex for so long. Can't you just let me and Tae look after you? Say the word, and you'll have the whole world to yourself. Sometimes I honestly don't understand how I can love you with such intensity. Given your utter inability to take advantage of opportunities. We're the best package deal ever. Do you know that? Where else are you going to find such a good dick and a black card as a bonus?" He asked.

"Jesus, Jimin! You can stop this. We're not fucking, is that clear? And I'm not going to take your money, even if you try to put your credit card in my hand every time. I can handle this on my own. "I shouted in a huff.

"OK, don't be uptight." He was such a bitch sometimes. He really enjoyed irritating me. "But I'm right. Aren't I? It's been a long time since you've been scolded. Go on, say I'm right. Come on, Nabi, tell me everything. Are you playing with yourself, dirty girl, or do you need to be taught a lesson? I want details."

There were times when I couldn't understand why God was punishing me in this way, but I guess it was the reckoning for the sins of my ancestors that could come in the form of the pink-headed Park Jimin.

"I hate you. I wasn't serious.

"I know." Chimin said cheekily. "By the way, to calm your nerves a bit, I'll tell you. I personally know some members of the club you and Yeonjun are going to. They are Taehyung's friends, so have no fear. But the best thing about these clubs are the men. Nabi, there are men there who make me believe in the existence of Greek gods and fallen angels." Jimin said it dreamily. "God, I would show them how flexible I can be if I didn't go out with Tae."

"All right, stop with that. I get it." I wasn't in the mood to listen to the dirty fantasies of my best friend right now. Especially when you consider the fact that he was absolutely right about my sexual life. I'd been single for a long time.

"Okay, nun, I won't corrupt you; otherwise, you'll have a desire for sex."

"Park Jimin!" I squealed.

Jimin just laughed out loud on the other side of the phone.

"I won't do it again. I promise." Actually, I didn't call you in the first place because of Yeonjun or your arrangement, but I wanted to ask you if you wanted to go somewhere with me.

"Where exactly do you have it in mind?"

"Do you have any idea about Paradigm?" "That fancy spiritualist boutique on Instagram everyone's talking about? I've had a bit of a hearing about it." Why would Jimin want to go to Paradigm? It was a place that was just as private and secret as the one that I had to go to with Yeonjun. "I have to pick up some packages for Taehyung; you know he's obsessed with all kinds of mystical stuff, and this damn boutique only gives out packages—no deliveries—can you imagine that? It feels like the Holy Grail, not a silly amulet."

"As defined by your style with Tae, it sounds terribly stilted and expensive. Sure, I'll go. Give me an hour or so; I need some time to pack."

"Fine, I'll pick you up. Wait for me, my love."

"Please, just pick something a little more simple than your Porsche.

"I love my Porsche; what's wrong with my car?"

"It's too much attention. Last time, everyone at the university talked about it for a whole week. There were even questions about whether you were my sugar daddy or not.

"I definitely love it. It is the universe's way of telling you that there is no need for resistance. I am going to take care of you, my little butterfly. And I am definitely going to come and pick you up in a Porsche. See you in one hour, baby."

"Jimin, just not in a Porsche!" I shouted, but it was too late; I only heard beeping.

As always, it was Park Jimin who had the last word.

I was happy to be able to postpone opening the purple envelope for a while because of this unexpected trip. Even though an occult boutique or something like that wasn't the best prospect.

Anyway, it's time to pack.

Jimin has a strict rule. He's never late.

Exactly one hour later, Jimin's Porsche picked me up from the dorm, and to all my indignation, the only response he gave was a mocking giggle.

There was good traffic on the roads. After twenty minutes, we stopped at the glass door with the silver star engraving. The exquisite sign above the door read as follows: Paradigm is a boutique of spiritualism." The phases of the moon, from New Moon to Descending Moon, were written on the board below the sign.

"Let's go, Nabi. Pick up the package, and I'll take you home. I know you still need to get Yeonjun registered." Chim wrapped his hands around my forearm and literally dragged me into the boutique as we entered.

As we walked in, the bells above the door began to ring, but the sound was not familiar to me; it looked more like glass than metal. When I looked up, I understood the reason for the sound. There were crystal bells hanging above the door, with long strings of pearls and little silver crescents. It was a very beautiful sight. While I had my eyes on the bells, Jimin was already in conversation with the girl behind the counter. She was tall, with a cascade of long, golden hair. Her features were large and expressive. The girl looked more like a model than a soothsayer or spiritualist, although in the age of Instagram, maybe that's what modern wizards and witches should look like.

I couldn't hear the whole of the conversation, just bits and pieces of it: "It's a parcel for Kim Taehyung. "Yes, it concerns the Kim family." "Please deliver it as soon as possible."

While they were talking, I thought I'd take a look around the shop.

The common room was not large; the shape of the room was round, probably because of some mystical meaning. The walls were covered with velvet curtains, behind which a number of doors were concealed. On metal shelves were various objects: crystal balls, shards of precious stones, heavy tomes on voodoo and fortune-telling, ancient talismans in forged frames, hare legs—a symbol of good luck—and other magical items. There was something macabre about this place—a thick, dense air in which the scent of frankincense and myrtle was vivid—and the heavy, lingering presence of something otherworldly, like a ghostly footprint—a very evil footprint. In all other respects, it was the same luxurious, new-fangled boutique for the chosen rich or the mystical amateur.

My attention was drawn to a crown. It lay on a velvet cushion on one of the many shelves. There were nine black diamonds at the center of the crown. They were surrounded by rubies, so deep in scarlet that they cast a black glow, and pearls to match. The lines of the metal were twisted. They were like snakes wrapped around jewels. The cut of the diamonds was not typical; it was something extremely rare for this kind of gemstone—the Empress.

I was drawn to this crown as if it were a magnet. This feeling of inescapable attraction that you can't resist—I have a feeling like this crown has always belonged to me. Now we are finally reunited. I reached out to touch it, to feel the coolness of the dark, glittering diamonds under my fingers, and I almost did when someone's hand fell on my shoulder.

"You shouldn't touch that, dear."

I gave a frightened jerk, either at the touch of someone else or at the low voice that had come so close to me.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to. I was just attracted to this crown, and I..." I had no idea how to explain the fact that I'd literally had a call from a piece of metal. Even for a place like this, it might have sounded crazy.

As I turned, I saw a woman in her 40s. Like the girl at the counter, she was more like a modern socialite on Instagram than an occult shop worker.

"All right, darling, the important thing is that you stopped it in time. This thing has a bad reputation; every one of its owners has ended up committing suicide. Anyway, my name is Kim Seoyun, owner of Paradigm. What brings you here today?"

"I'm here with a friend who needs to pick up a package for his boyfriend."

"A young man with pink hair, right? He's in the office with JaYoung; they're in charge of the registration," Seoyun said.

Even the names of the two were breathtakingly beautiful and meaningful. Sometimes the universe invests more in some than others. Seoyun frowned for a moment, as if she had read my thoughts. Then her face cleared, and she smiled softly.

"You're a beautiful girl, Nabi."

"Thank you." I sounded terribly stupid; sometimes I act like a complete fool, but I couldn't think of a more witty response. There was an uncomfortable silence between us. Until it was broken by SeoYun, who asked me a question.

"Do you want me to tell you what your fate is going to be like? My clients are of the opinion that I'm very precise in my predictions."

"Oh no, you don't have to do that." I waved away. "I don't really have a lot of faith in destiny and omens."

"You don't believe in destiny?" She arched her eyebrow in a skeptical manner. "Or don't you want to believe in it?"

"I'm a realist; I can't imagine believing in a destiny and hoping for some mystical higher power to intervene."

"Hmm, this is quite interesting. Come on, let's play," she said, picking up a Taro deck and opening it like a fan. She handed it to me. "You choose five cards; two of them are about love, two of them are about the future, and the last card is about the inevitable destiny, something that's been foretold since your birth."

I won't lie, I was so curious, even though I had no faith in the cards in my hand. My hand reached out for a pack of cards, my fingers hovering over the smooth, flickering surface as if I were trying to feel the ones I needed.

Fatum—the word had a scary ring to it.

AfterI had quickly decided on the four cards, I solemnly drew the last card and handed it over to Miss Kim.

Seoyun took the cards from me with a knowing smile. She began to turn them over one by one and started to explain what each meant.

"You are going to love like it is hard to imagine." She said. Feelings carried threatening limits. Crazy, wild, and burning love—this is a card that comes up very rarely, but it has a very strong meaning. It is the Queen of Cups. For someone who really loves you, you are going to be a true queen, a goddess; everything will be done for you; everything you want will be fulfilled; but if you get too caught up in this feeling, you will be too easily controlled. As strong as this love is, so strong is the destructiveness of it. You should be more careful with it.

The next card was turned over by Seoyun.

"The star is a bright omen for you. You have a choice in front of you that will change everything. Follow the star, and it will show you the path, but remember, no star shines without darkness. This is a map that will lead you to where you need to be. In search of that guiding star, it looks like I'm going to have to look up in the sky some more. Perhaps I should also follow the spiders in order to find the Chamber of Secrets as well.

I treated them with absolute skepticism.

"Death: everything has a cycle, and when death appears, it means you're nearing the end of one. The appearance of death is the end of one cycle and the beginning of another. It may have something to do with the love that awaits you. Your loneliness is about to end."

"The Five Cups is a situation in which you are stuck and can't move forward. This card is about your problems and the need for change in your life. This is the same kind of magical kick that is followed by heavy and dramatic events. The Fives indicate that this is only the second act of the great play; there is still much to come, but the finale promises to be happy if you accept your destiny. Otherwise, it can always end in tragedy. This card tells you: Accept yourself and surrender."

I didn't have a bit of faith in her words. If Jimin or Lia had been in my place, they would have been on a shopping spree for amulets and shamans; their belief in the afterlife was absurdly high.

Before I turned the last card, Seoyun took my hand. She looked me in the eyes seriously and asked:

"Are you sure that you want to know what fate has meant for you, because sometimes it's hard to deal with it?"

"Yes, I do. I'd like to hear it." Isn't that the whole point of a fortune telling?

It's just a deck of cards and some vague words from a pseudo fortune-teller. What could possibly go wrong?

When Miss Kim turned over the last card, her face went pale, and she let the palm of her hand slip out of hers as if it had been burned.

"Go away." sounded like undisguised horror in Seoyun's voice. "Leave immediately. JaYoung, accompany her to the exit, now." She turned away from me, clutching the card in her hand.

I never had a chance to have a look at what was on it.

"What is going on? Why are you kickin' us outta here? What did you see on that card? "In complete disregard for my questions, Miss Kim hurried to the office door, hiding behind the curtains.

Just then, JaYoung and Jimin came out of the other room with a small black box tied with a gold ribbon. It must have been a parcel for Taehyung to take.

"Nabi, are you all right?" Jimin asked me in a worried tone.

No, it wasn't all right; the lady looked at me as if I were one of the bad omens of the biblical coming.

What was it about this card that was able to frighten her to such an extent?

"JaYoung, take her to the exit and close the boutique; we will not be working any more today."

I grabbed the woman's hand before she could turn the doorknob and disappear into the darkness of the room.

"What's the meaning of the last card? Tell me; I'm not going to leave here until you tell me."

"Death is closer to you than you think. It's already on its way to you." Her whole body began to shivered as if it were cold, but the shop was warm. I would say stuffy.

"Who's comin'? What are you talkin' about?" I insisted on it.

Seoyun suddenly turned to me and pushed a crumpled tarot card into my hand. There was There was madness in her dark eyes, and her pupils were so dilated that they were almost the thick green of her iris.

"The Devil."

After that, she practically pushed me to the exit, where I met a worried and confused Jimin. We came out of the boutique, and the door behind us clicked in a characteristic way.

This was not how I had imagined a trip to Paradigm.

"What the hell just happened?"

"You'll believe me when I say I have no idea." Jimin and I looked at each other.

"Next time Taehyung will pick up his stupid packages themselves, I will not go to places like that again. Nabi, I saw someone's canned heart in a jar and bat carcasses. Did you know they have such tiny, sharp teeth? I could swear that I've never seen anything so disgusting in all my life." He said.

"No more occult boutiques, I totally agree with you. Let's go home, I still have to send the paperwork over to Jun."

"I must have something to drink first, and the stronger the better. Let's go to 'Salvatore' and then go home."

I took one last look at the sign, which was now shimmering faintly in the setting sun. I crumpled the card into a small ball and threw it in the rubbish bin next to me.

The Devil, of course. I'm not going to believe the words of this crazy fortune teller. Maybe I should scatter the salt at the entrance, or then he will suddenly knock on my door.

Two hours later, after a big margarita for two and a few glasses of red wine, Jimin took me home, and I was in the same position as before the whole stupid trip to Paradigm.

Sitting on my bed, hypnotised by a dark purple envelope with documents from Yeonjun. There was no point in putting it off any longer.

Instead of pulling a millimeter at a time, I need to learn how to rip off a plaster in one move. Maybe deep down I'm a masochist if I prefer this method, but right now I don't have the time to sort out my hidden sexual desires.

I picked up the envelope; it was surprisingly heavy and pleasantly soft to the touch. The paper had a pleasant odor of powder and velvet, a reminder of the Victorian era in England. Unrequited love letters must have smelled like that.

The envelope was sealed by a wax seal with a monogram cast in an antique shade of gold. When I opened it, the thin wax cracked under my fingers, leaving a glistening particle on them. Inside were a number of documents tied together: a non-disclosure agreement, a handwritten note, and a velour jewellery bag bound with silk ribbons and embroidered with opals and sapphires. I'm sure this little thing was worth twice what I'd been paid in six months, and what lay inside cost much more.

My first choice was a piece of paper. Yeonjun had always written in an incredibly beautiful way - calligraphed, like a fountain pen, with little curls at the end of the letters.

"My lovely Nabi, I look forward to seeing you this Saturday. I am so glad that you have agreed to take me up on my offer. A treasure like you deserves the best in the world, and I'm overjoyed to give it to you. In case you change your mind and decide to back out of your contract with ”Crescent,” I will be the one to pay all of your bills and your tuition fees in the future. We have already discussed this with Jimin. Despite your stubborn refusal to accept any financial help from us, I will do it anyway."

Sometimes I think that all of my friends have a sugar daddy complex; their desperate desire to pay for everything in my life is taken to the extreme. Of course, if you grew up with a "golden spoon" in your mouth, a few thousand dollars, it was absolutely nothing. But for me, it was an exorbitant burden, and yet I wanted to handle it myself.

As dubious as it sounds, I didn't want to say no.

"There's a confidentiality agreement in the envelope, and you need to sign it until tomorrow night. Your session is scheduled for Saturday night. We have to be at ”Crescent” by 23:00, after which Seulgi, the main administrator, will pick up a perfectly compatible client for you to donate blood. Before you meet her, I want to make sure that all the paperwork is in order. There are also two versions of the contract that you should have a look at.”

The ”Crescent” allows donors to choose whether they want to work with them for a year or for one night. Accordingly, there are two types of contracts: annual and one-off.

”I've picked out an outfit for you to wear when we go to ”Crescent”; it'll arrive on Friday with everything you need. You'll look gorgeous, and I'm sure you'll thank me afterwards. Personally, I think you could do with showing a little more of your skin and accentuating the sexy lines of your body. For my taste, you're too modest.”

I squeezed my eyes shut in annoyance. If my buttocks weren't pressed up against the skirt and my breasts weren't protruding, I'd certainly be too modest. The more skin on display, the better. Jun's preference was something I was well aware of. A nice outfit was to be forgotten, and if my underwear was even a little bit covered, I would consider myself lucky. I was sure there would be no thanks on my part.

"The club's owners give all new donors a thank-you gift. It's inside an envelope. Accept it with all sincerity, because you are giving them your life's resources, and this is the least they can do for you. It is also their request that you wear it on your arrival at the “Crescent.”

My dear Nabi, it will be a night you'll never forget. I can assure you of that.

All my love, Yeonjun. "

I was very excited about the prospect of Saturday night. There was a feeling that there was some hidden meaning in the whole situation that I was missing out on. My brain was sending me distress and danger signals, just like Yeonjun. Be careful. The storm is coming.

In any case, sometimes it is better to be at ease and just go with the flow. Like Jimin said, I should be less dramatic.

I signed the NDA contract right away. I'll definitely forget it if I don't do it now. Checking Yeonjun's words against the remaining documents in the envelope, there were two versions of the contract: a one-off and an annual one. I decided to save the gift from the owners of the 'Crescent' for the very end. My first choice was the one-off contract. There were fewer pages, and it was clearer and easier to read.

The first item on the contract was the NDA. There was a long explanation of why it was so important and necessary.

"All "Crescent" clients are people of high social status and position. Their privacy is of the utmost priority to us. Especially with regard to their "special" conditions and specific needs, we want to guarantee our clients complete privacy. Each donor undertakes to sign a confidentiality agreement prior to the first session. Otherwise, the contract between the donor and our client will not be concluded." Guests of the club, hereinafter referred to as "donors," are obliged to keep confidential all the information obtained during personal meetings as well as everything that happens during the blood transfusion, hereinafter referred to as "sessions."

Well, it sounded a bit strange, but I could understand why "Crescent" insisted on signing a contract of this kind. In today's world, it is difficult to keep things secret. And when you are dealing with powerful and wealthy people, it is even more difficult. Paparazzi lurk around every corner, and tabloids are ready to start a scandal with the slightest spark, especially in South Korea.

Who in their right mind would want to survive the criticism, the judgment, and the airing of dirty laundry?

The donor's responsibilities and the client's expectations were the next point in the contract.

In short, you become an exclusive blood donor for one or more clients of the club after signing the contract. This is what Yeonjun told me as well. This form of contract required a single "session."

They didn't give any details, just that the service was linked to a certain type of genetics in their clients and was urgently needed. They did not say how the transfusion process would take place.

"The donor agrees to give their blood and receives financial compensation from the club after a successful procedure. The whole process is strictly controlled by "Crescent" staff. They also act as intermediaries between the donor and the client. Their job is to carry out a compatibility test that will guarantee a better result in the transfusion."

Point three is called "testing for compatibility."

Each donor was tested for compatibility before the "session," and the club administrators—as I learned from Yeonjun's note, my administrator's name is Seulgi—took a blood sample and compared it with the most suitable partner or partners. It was not only the blood that was important, but the members of the club also had a long list of preferences and wishes that the donor had to match. Looks were not the least of these. Height, weight, hair colour, body type, nationality, and age—the list seemed endless. There was even a clause about the type of voice and the food preferences of the donor. Let's just say: "Crescent" customers were very spoiled and had a personal view of the blood donation process. Partner - It sounded a little too intimate to me for this kind of situation, and it clearly had a double meaning.

The most pleasant of all—financial compensation—was point number four.

"For voluntarily donating their life resources, all donors receive financial compensation from "Crescent," ranging from $1,000 to $3,000. The amount paid varies according to the amount of blood donated and the status of the client with whom the donor was matched".

It was a fabulous amount of money. It was a very quick income, but it wasn't that easy. I felt it in my gut. The work was flawless; there was just no such thing.

I've reached the last point in the contract - the completion of the agreement.

Here are the details of the beginning and end of the 'session', how the money was paid, how the donors returned home, and other details. The start of each 'session' was exactly midnight, but the donor had to be at the club two hours before for preparation. The 'session' ended at 8am the next day. In general, the whole process took up to eight hours. The transfusion took place in private rooms, the doors of which were locked from the beginning to the end of the "session." Inside the rooms, there was a "panic button" in case of unforeseen situations.

The transfusion process itself is only revealed on arrival at the "Crescent," as the paragraph indicates: "is not standard." The donors were taken home by the club staff at the end of the "session." If there was a request from the client for the donor to be taken home in person, there was no objection to this.

And that's all. The one-off contract was over. A few thousand dollars have been added to your bank account.

I won't lie, it sounded fabulous. But there was a lot that made me feel confused and want to know.

Some of the clauses in the contract left me scratching my head with their veiled meaning and ambiguous choice of words.

So I moved on to the second version of the contract - the one for the year.With lots of footnotes and sub-paragraphs, it was twice as long.

It had the same beginnings: the NDA agreement, the donation, and the compatibility test, but then everything changed dramatically.

Gone was the faceless "client." In its place came the "patron." Now it sounded as if there was a contract between the patron and the donor. In addition to this new word, there were also new points to be included in the contract.

Medical care, diet, sports with a private trainer, spa treatments, and even specific items such as painting, dancing, and music lessons. From the signing of the annual contract, which included renting accommodation, paying bills and school fees, giving gifts, traveling, and so on, the patrons were fully responsible for the welfare and comfort of their exclusive donor.

They promised to keep the donor happy and satisfied and to see to whatever needed to get done. It was now that the ambiguity of the word 'partner' began to make sense to me. In this contract, it was clearly stated that the business relationship could continue between the sheets.

"The sexual or romantic relationship between the donor and the patron is their personal affair and is welcome if both parties are interested in and attracted to each other. All intimate details, including details of the sexual act, remain strictly confidential between donor and client. A list of the sexual practices as well as the permissible kinks will be discussed in advance. The donor is entitled to determine the acceptable boundaries of sexual contact, its intensity, and the degree of emotional "subspace" involved. A stop word is chosen in advance, or the clients can always use the color system: green - yellow - red.

Donors have the right to appeal to the management of the club if, at any time, their rights have been violated and they have been subjected to emotional, physical, or sexual coercion. The owners of "Crescent" have an obligation to provide the donor with a safe place and appropriate specialists for the assessment of the donor's condition. The contract is suspended. Further details are awaited. The issue can be resolved peacefully. In the worst case, the contract will be terminated immediately, and the donor will be compensated for a period of five years." That was certainly not my expectation. I will have to ask Yeonjun if he has any knowledge of such cases, if they have happened, or if anyone has ever had an early termination of a contract.

In addition, it was stated that such a relationship was not obligatory and that if the donor did not want to have sexual relations with the patron, he could refuse, and the patron would have no insistence.

But I don't think many donors would refuse, considering that even Jimin, who is dating an absolutely perfect and insanely attractive man named Taehyung, talked about the beauty of “Crescent's“ clients. It's a very tempting offer, even though it sounds like a twisted version of sugar daddy with a bloody kink.

There have also been some changes to the point about the financial compensation. It is now a compulsory monthly allowance. Depending on the status of the patron, it could range from $30,000 to $90,000 a year. The more he or she could afford to pay, the higher the amount of the benefit. The money was divided into equal parts. It was paid over the duration of the contract. Always on the first Monday of the month.

I can't imagine that anyone would be willing to pay that kind of money for your blood. Obviously, for the members of the “Crescent“, this was an acute question, as the amount in the contract had several zeros.

One of the most important points in the contract was the exclusivity clause.

This was unacceptable for an annual contract, unlike a one-off contract, which allowed the donor to contract with different clients each time. To put it bluntly: Your blood belonged to the sponsor. In this respect, there were so many requirements and so many details written down that were important to the patron. In addition, the one-year contract was only available to donors who had knowledge of the club's clients or staff. Yeonjun was one of them. So I received two versions of the contract instead of one.

At the end, there was the same information about the terms and conditions of the 'meeting' and a few paragraphs about the expiry of the one-year contract.

Having read the contracts, I felt like we were in a strange combined version of 50 Shades of Gray and True Blood.

With a heavy sigh, I leaned back on the pillows, putting the papers to one side, and pressed my cheek against the fluffy, soft toy. It felt good against my skin, the soft purple velour. It was a weird variation on 'Princess of the Bumpy Space' from 'Adventure Time'. Minho had given it to me after another drunken debacle. How he came into possession of this toy is still a complete mystery to all of us.

I had a couple of thoughts about my options. On the one hand, I could make a one-off deal with them and then forget about what had happened the next morning. The amount they offered to compensate me would have been enough to make me feel good for a while, but certainly not enough to pay off all the debts and put some aside just in case.

On the other hand, there was a contract for one year with regular payments and various bonuses, but this also involved a mysterious and demanding patron. One year, and I can say goodbye to all the debts I owe. There was also the chance, without a boring, monotonous job in a bookshop, a tiny room in a student dormitory, or a permanent pit of debt, to see the world, enjoy art, and simply live and be happy.

All this was offered to me on a silver platter. But somehow I thought it was a deal with the devil rather than a blessing from an angel.

In that tempting sentence, there was too much 'but'.

All my thoughts had me on the verge of tears and screams at the same time.

I looked around my little room: dim, mousy grey painted walls; scattered notes and piles of textbooks on the table; picture frames; toys; piles of crumpled blankets on the floor; and a black Balmain velvet jacket that once belonged to Minho, but which he is absolutely certain makes me look better than him. In addition to my things, there were a few of Lia's dresses and Yeonjun's leather jacket, which he left me after one of our many meetings, in my wardrobe, which was tiny by Jimin and Minho's standards. The contrast between their clothes and mine was unbelievable - brand labels, monograms, and distinctive prints - all screaming about their high cost and inaccessibility. I could never have that kind of money, but I had the desire. I really wanted to have it.

This sense of accessibility was something I was curious about.

There was a thick twilight beyond the window. A scattering of purple light poured into the room, turning the whole room a mystical shade of purple. As it danced along the walls, the colour dripped down to the floor, making it look like dark purple water. You could see the first stars begin to appear in the rapidly darkening sky, their broken light sparking off a sapphire embroidered ribbon on a small jewellery bag. I had completely forgotten all about this so-called gift. The cobalt blue sapphires mirrored each other and looked like the eyes of a big cat. That's how I'd always imagined the eyes of a predator - shining in that mystical blue. I took the pouch in my hand and shook it lightly in an attempt to determine what was inside, but the contents did not make a sound.

The silk ribbon came undone with ease. I stared at the contents of the bag with unblinking eyes. Inside was a delicate ornament made of white gold. Thin lines were woven into a star shape. It was inlaid with sapphires and diamonds. It was mesmerizing to look at. Whoever made this necklace obviously put a great deal of love into it. The shape of the ornament itself was not standard; it was more like a guide star in the center of the compass.

I was reminded of what Miss Kim had said to me today as my fingers gently traced the pattern of the necklace.

"Follow the stars, and they will show you the way. A star is a bright omen."

Could it just be a coincidence that the piece of jewelry I was holding in my hand was nothing less than a guiding star?

Either way, I'll definitely be wearing it Saturday—not just because the owners asked me to, but because it is my wish. Perhaps this star will indeed show me the way, but one thing I was sure of was that it was the most beautiful piece of jewelry I'd ever seen.

I thought I'd put the jewelry back in my bag and do some paperwork for Yeonjun. I've had enough mystical prophecies and rich patrons for one day, so I've left the contract selection for Saturday. I'm going to spend the evening resting and relaxing. I'll have a long, hot bath with butter and pink salt, which Jiminy brought me from Paris. I will read a book or listen to a meditation course and call upon my inner "I" to harmonise.

Meditation and soul-searching have become very popular with Lia lately. As a result, I have a whole bookshelf in my room that is dedicated to books of this kind and various CDs with meditation and breathing exercises. Last month, she even gave me a decorative fountain, which was supposed to be calming and relaxing but in fact made me feel more nervous and annoyed than soothed. I looked at the jewelry bag containing the necklace again after gathering all the documents.

"The star will show the way..."

And it's only now that I realise that I've never said my name, Miss Kim, and I don't know how she came to know it.

"You're a beautiful girl, Nabi."

For a moment, I thought that maybe her words weren't made up or lying, but rather a warning, but it was only for a second.

I decided not to give it much thought, shaking my head as if to drive the thought away. If it were a sign of my destiny, it'd be my meeting with her on Saturday. I looked out the window again. As if mocking me, the crescent moon shone brightly through the thick midnight clouds. One thing I was absolutely sure of: a visit to 'Сrescent' would change my life forever.

[transmutationisms]

historical writing followup anon here. ackk i thought the link got pasted but it mustve gotten sucked into the void. i was referring to this ^^ https://www.tumblr.com/transmutationisms/777831995879374848/

oh my god i literally meant to circle back to that like a month ago. my drafts are where posts go to die.

yeas for anyone who cares & missed it—the question was for any historical texts that have influenced how i think about the formal practice of writing history, and/or that are simply enjoyable reads on a mechanical prose level. i'm listing in no particular order, & with more of a focus on style & general methodological orientation over the substance of the arguments. also these are probably all going to be in history of science/medicine but that's rly just because those are texts i've spent a lot of time with lol.

ill composed: sickness, gender, and belief in early modern england by olivia weisser -- primary sources here are largely personal writings: journals, business records, marginalia, she spent a LOT of time combing archives here and it allows her to really straddle the line between history of medicine and history of affect/emotions, which is not typically a topic i find treated this persuasively

doctoring traditions: ayurveda, small technologies, and braided sciences by projit bihari mukharji -- loved this on a prose level, and is also a useful demo of how histories can look once we move past the unidirectional basalla-style model of colonial knowledge dissemination & deal with eg the interests of these upper-caste colonial administrators in the creation & defence of an 'ayurvedic tradition'

medicalizing blackness: making racial difference in the atlantic world, 1780–1840 by rana hogarth -- both the periodisation and the geographic delineation are very very strongly chosen here, she brings together a number of atlantic-world episodes often treated in isolation from one another. treats each in its specificity but succeeds in pulling from the aggregate a strong analysis of the overarching concept (antiblackness; the creation of race via medical science) that she's after

baron de vastey and the origins of black atlantic humanism by marlene daut -- brought me back to seeing how close literary textual analysis can be historicised / integrated into historical analysis productively, after several years of mostly trying to curb my impulse toward the former

victorian sensation: the extraordinary publication, reception, and secret authorship of vestiges and of the natural history of creation by james secord -- classic of history of the book, history of readership / popular audiences, &c

the fall of robespierre: 24 hours in revolutionary paris by colin jones -- i found this boring & its specific topic means it's not really beating the great man allegations but it did certainly get me thinking about how we narrativise/periodise in history, and why

the physician-legislators of france: medicine and politics in the early third republic, 1870–1914 by jack ellis -- prosopography is hard to write and usually kind of boring to read but the payoff is worth it i fear

ideals of the body: architecture, urbanism, and hygiene in postrevolutionary paris by sun-young park -- working in traditions of urban history, architectural history, anthropology à la rabinow, really gorgeous granular analysis of the creation & design of the actual physical spaces comprising a city. esp shines where she treats pedagogical institutions, incl paris deaf-blind institutes

mining language: racial thinking, indigenous knowledge, & colonial metallurgy in the early modern iberian world by allison bigelow -- super super fun & fruitful moves here bringing together discourse analysis, history of the book, economic history, and history of technology in colonial mining & the creation & circulation of knowledge in those colonial networks

engineers of happy land: technology and nationalism in a colony by rudolf mrázek -- i have issues with this book but stylistically it is really a pleasure & got me thinking a lot about how we write history & how style and ideology inform one another in that process. like if the arcades project was about colonial indonesia

what nostalgia was: war, empire, and the time of a deadly emotion by thomas dodman -- more people should spend half this effort on historicising 1) affects and 2) psychiatric descriptions of those affects. history is so fun when it's fun

the expressiveness of the body and the divergence of greek and chinese medicine by shigehisa kuriyama -- this is so so fun on a prose level in a way academic history rarely is. it's a comparative history, which in general i don't love, and is markedly much more detailed in the exposition of greek medicine than chinese