#2025 year of Decision and Blessing in Him

[jclovely]

.

LORD WE COME TO YOU THIS FRIDAY MORNING WITH MANY REQUESTS OF PRAYERS THANKING YOU THAT ALL THESE REQUESTS WILL BE ANSWERED ACCORDING TO YOUR WILL AND FOR SO MANY OTHERS ALSO STILL IN THE VALLEY OF DECISION.

.

THANK-YOU AGAIN AND AGAIN. IN THE LORD JESUS CHRIST PRECIOUS NAME.

.

Amen.

.

.

📯👑📯

.

.

.

🇮🇱👑🙏

.

.

.

🙏💖🌺🦋🕎✝️👑🇮🇱🕊️📯

.

.

Prayers for Nina Nikki Fay Odessa Renee Diana Lainey Jena Cris Tasha Narine Shelli Luca and Sara John and Tara Logan and Melissa Alix and Stephen and many others 🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏💖🕊️📯👑

.

.

“We thank you, our God, and praise you.”

[bosskingprinceyoongi]

my adventures with being asexual and getting my tubes removed as a 33 year old virgin in a red state in 2025

my gynecologist is so funny and sweet because i'm asexual and he remembers that, but he always brings up birth control and safe sex by habit and i dutifully nod along. and he's like awww yeah you're ASEXUAL now but in the future???? you might wanna??? and i'm like hmmmm maybe???? but better safe than sorry!!! and we smile and laugh but there is an understanding of something bigger. we're not naive. we live in a red state. women's rights and health care are being stripped every fucking day. i am young. i am not married. i am asking for something that doctors usually just turn down immediately.

and then we go on to continue to plan for my surgery for getting my tubes removed and it's so fucking funny to me.

he's like, ok so no babies. no babies!!!!! but maybe one day you might want sex! i dunno. but no babies for sure! and i'm like yep!!!!! he gets me! this was easier coming out the closet to him than my parents. my parents still do not comprehend that i am asexual. to them it's me saying odd phrases and a just a phase. i am 33 and have never dated or even kissed someone. i openly gag dramatically when someone brings up sex on a tv show. i'm like YUCK 🤢. could NOT be me. we all laugh but they still think it's me bullshitting i guess. asexual? what does that even MEAN? they just say ok and move along.

meanwhile the nurses and medical assistants are SO confused on me not being on ANY birth control. because they always ask and i say, nah, i'm not taking any. AND THEY LOOK AT ME IN HORROR. and then i say, i'm ABSTINENT. and one lady was like?????? i said I DO NOT HAVE SEX MA'AM. and she was honest to god still confused????

but my gyno is like, yes, she is ASEXUAL duh, she doesn't have sex. and he smiles and moves along.

the funniest shit!!!!!

but i am forever grateful he's so normal about me being asexual. because even my therapist was like, um it's because of your parents bad marriage and you were abused and you don't know for sure it could be a hormonal problem blah blah blah and i told my gyno and he bless his heart went, ok. that's what YOU choose right? you're FINE with that? and i said yeah. and he said cool. that's YOUR decision and you don't have to do anything you don't want. and we then went on to discuss my medical problems. (i have a shit ton)

but yeah. some people think being asexual is something that needs to be fixed immediately and i'm glad my gyno, this one in a million white guy who reminds me of steve rogers aka captain america, just went ok, cool.

sexuality is fluid. he never says oh you'll change your mind in a condescending way. he doesn't ask me why i don't want sex. he just wants me to be ok with my choices and make sure i don't have a baby if i do not want a baby. because shit happens. sadly that is the plain truth. bad things happen like rape and he's like, you don't want kids ever? i'm gonna make sure that stays true. he is so real for that.

even though i am asexual and i don't have sex.

i lucked up in finding a gyno in a red state that cares so deeply about my body and my decisions. i wish everyone had that.

anyways shout out to my gyno going you're asexual?! and then always smiling and saying, yes, you're asexual but NO KIDS RIGHT! 😂😂😂😂😂😂 nah, no kids. team no kids for life. thank you!

oh and virginity is a social construct ya know.

not wanting sex is not the end of the world.

and i can only imagine what my fellow lesbians go through at the gyno. like. the nurse nearly had a fit when i said i don't use any contraceptives. she really hit me with the SO HOW ARE YOU NOT GETTING PREGNANT HUH?

i don't have sex babes.

oh and yes i've gotten the "but you're pretty" lines too. not sure what the fuck being pretty and rocking cute clothes got to do with me being asexual but go off!

[sirdolraan]

Meditations

((DWC Feb 2025, Day 1, Hypnotic/Star, @daily-writing-challenge CW: None ))

Beledar's light shined brightly down on Dolraan as he stood on the wall, gazing up at the giant crystal. Some part of, aspect of the worldsoul, filled with life-giving light, as well as terrifying shadowy power that tempted the great evils of the world. And a song that could only be heard by those who were attuned to the Light, like himself. Lorellai, Spiru, even Janosis once they'd dug him out of Azj'kahet, couldn't hear it, even though the Radiant Song had come to all of them. But here, in Hallowfall, he could hear the crystal's song, soothing his mind and warming his heart.

No wonder the Arathi had decided to live here. It was, in every way that mattered, a blessing unlike any other. Beautiful. Affirming. Almost hypnotic.

"Penny for your thoughts, champion?" Dolraan turned to see Quartermaster Steelstrike walking up behind him, carrying two steaming mugs of tea. "Saw you head up here, thought you might like something warm to drink."

"That's very kind of you, Quartermaster," Dolraan smile as he received the mug, taking a sip of the tea. "As for my thoughts, too many and not enough. Questions that just lead to more questions. Even by my standards, this has been a very eventful time."

"I don't know whether to be impressed or worried, considering your stories. And please, we've shared a dinner table, you can call me Auralia, I won't tell the general," she said, winking. Her gaze turned up to Beledar. "You know, you'd think after years and years you'd get used to it, but it's still just so… magnificent. I'm glad to know that you outsiders can also look to Beledar for peace while you think."

"It is among the most remarkable things I've ever encountered, and I can say that with confidence. I think I agree with your historians; that you were brought here to safeguard it. I can't say that we'd have been able to stop Xal'atath's assault on it if not for the Arathi having established yourselves down here so well."

"I certainly like to think so. After all we've been through, all we've lost," she said, looking down and rubbing a ring on her finger, "having it mean something is important."

"I think it would have meaning, even if it was just a fluke. Because you gave it meaning. You made a decision, you built homes and families, and you work every day to keep everyone safe and happy. That's the Light, back where I come from."

"You have a real talent for making things big things seem simple," Auralia chuckled.

"I've spent the last five years teaching and training, I had to get good at it or I'd be embarrassed by my students, or ridiculed by my squire. Can't stand that thought."

"Well, I can understand that motivation. A toast, then. To keeping everyone safe and happy, even if it's as simple as sharing a warm mug of tea."

As Dolraan tapped his mug with Auralia's, Beledar shined brightly down upon the paladins below, her song audible to those who could hear it, echoing with notes of safety, and happiness.

[uhgood-girl]

why jikook?

i've been asking myself this a lot recently bc well, why them? why not tkook? or ynmin? hell, jihope even, they're underrated as hell honestly, have you seen that hot tub video? hobi was ready to unhinge his jaw to swallow jimin whole (and who (jk) could blame him.)

but jikook, in a not joking way, hits different. they always have. it's been years at this point that i've been deep in this rabbit hole (within the larger bts rabbit hole, my god, how deep does it go) but i don't recall making the conscious decision to fall in.

maybe a little background?

i'm a fake love army. actually, if we're getting technical, i'm an outro tear army bc it was in the comments of the freshly released fake love music video that i saw someone recommend outro tear if i enjoyed fake love and then it was over for me. extremely not fake love at first listen, who's voice is second on this track? i NEED to know. i'm a yoongi/rapline bias to this day. fake love still fucks though, don't get me wrong, it's a never skip for me.

for that first year and then some, i consumed backlogged content like it was my day job. i am a prone to hyper-fixations hermit, basically, who was going to stop me? my therapist? nah, she picks her battles.

i watched everything i could get my grubby little hands on like someone would be testing me on it later. (shoutout qdeoks, you were so real) i didn't open stan twitter for the first time till probably the end of 2018, really just in time to be slapped in the face full force with the shitshow that was a hate campaign against these boys i was deeply invested in by then, the likes of which i had never experienced in an online space up to that point. it was a truly, truly wild era, don't ever let anyone tell you differently.

all that to say, i've been here for a hot minute and i developed my own first impressions on bts and the members as individuals in a vacuum. no one had to point jikook out to me, they stuck out on their own.

potentially relevant disclaimer before we continue: i am really really queer. i grew up in the united states conservative deep south and had to change high schools my sophomore year bc i was outed and then violently ostracized for being in a relationship with my same sex best friend at the time. it is safe to say i have a lot of feelings about and experience even when it comes to having to be low key (understatement lol) about who you love. i am not here just to make my barbies kiss.

actually, on that note, jikook wouldnt even be my chosen barbies out of bts. if we're in true fantasy delulu hours here, i would want yoonjin to be real. god, that would be the stuff, they're so old married as it is. peak romance.

i think the first place jikook ever truly caught my attention were the memories dvds. jimin has always been a sweet, bby angel taking care of all his members but i remember thinking that he seemed to pay a little extra, special attention to jungkook. and of course, why not, jk's the maknae after all. all of them have always been doting on him and deservedly so. but in those briefly shown really serious, quiet moments, jimin was often first in line. a spot very easy for him to obtain tbh as jk never seemed to be very far from him anyway. maybe if you've never in real time lived the satellite jeon accusations (hi pandemic army, bless you, i hope you make it to 2025 when we have them all back without restrictions) you might find them easier to dismiss but it was so consistent back then in all of the content being released. and once noticed, i don't know how anyone ever un-notices it. but i was in deep before i even realized the water was boiling.

should i talk about why not tkook? or ynmin, for me? i'm just pulling those as examples bc i know they're the popular contenders here but all joking in the beginning of this post aside, none of the other members interpersonal relationships, in any configuration (sadly, RIP yoonjin romance), have ever struck me as anything other than puppy crush/deep friendship/family. and that's not bc i don't think over half of those men aren't queer in some form or fashion because WHEW, that is an entirely different post and we simply do not have the time to unpack rn but it's not for lack of looking.

i started in a vacuum, but i have by no means stayed there, i walked in all of those front doors and sat down and said "convince me." i've got the time and lack of life, i am ready to be won over. what have i missed?

to this day i still regularly try and check my own confirmation bias, i'm obviously looking for jikook at this stage but i'm still ready on my toes if any of the others want to get crazy. (yoonjin i am rooting for you, we're all rooting for you)

and i'm not here to really persuade or sway anyone one way or another either. there are a 1000 other blogs on this site that can probably offer you better explanations, specific clips, and detailed break downs of moments throughout the years and even then people are going to see what they want to see. i just wanted to write some of my own thoughts down finally.

though...i guess if i had to point to any one single piece of "evidence" it would definitely be tried and true gcf tokyo? but if watching that the first time didn't ring through you like a gunshot, i def don't think there's anything i could say beyond that.

honestly, i think so much of "why jikook" for me boils down to the pit in the bottom of my stomach that i used to get when i first began to notice them. when i got past the initial warm fuzzies inspired by the sincerity of their interactions, my immediate second emotion was concern.

i remember the first time i heard some of the other boys make an offhand joke about them being a couple and i got anxious, fast. i thought hide, hide better, please be safe. i began to pay extra attention to the other members in general too when jikook would do things and felt like i could sometimes see a similar anxiety to my own in their expressions. for a long time, i just worried about them and where i saw other people rejoice in their more obvious moments, i was slow to celebrate.

despite my initial hesitation, it's now been about 5 years since the first time they ever made me double take. they're a few years younger than me but i feel like we've been growing up together. (parasocial? idk her.) they're less conspicuous these days, and for lots of obvious reasons, but i feel like overall, their confidence in themselves and each other is quite high. i know that's probably a funny thing to say in light of this last week especially, but i stand by it. i've seen this song and dance before. i have managed my own expectations in the past, taken full steps back only to be beaten anew over the head so many times with enough "coincidences" i felt borderline foolish to try and deny anything. jikook are truly some sort of neuro-spicy pattern recognition drug, i swear.

and i've never really gotten to talk about any of this with anyone before! i'm shy irl, and shy online apparently bc i have just been lurking around the outer lines of this circle this whole time like some creepy creep but i've decided i'm over it. fuck it. growth.gif. idk that i have anything important or new to contribute to the conversation but my god, no one else seems to let that stop them so i might as well take my turn on the soapbox, no?

so 📢 JIKOOK REAL (?) jikook sus. jikook make bandaged queer little heart go boom boom.

[jclovely]

📯📯📯 2025 YEAR OF DECISION 📯📯📯

MANY THINGS FORECASTED AND TOLD BUT THE CHOICE IS YOURS, BELIEVE LIES AND DECEPTIONS OR THE TRUTH OF THE GOSPEL ???

Here is a summary:

. The Rapture of the Body of Christ ie. all born again believers past and present.

. Lies and deceptions through AI, project Blue Beam, aliens in the skies, creation of Black Swan event such as the drones leaving poisonous substances in the air which many US and UK people have seen and fell sick to.

. Transgenderism and continuation of transhumanism agendas under Elon Musk, and all Luceferian global elites under WHO, UN, WEF, CDC, NHS, NIH and more creating the NWO.

. FALSE Ecumenism or Omnism bringing many faiths together creating ONE WORLD RELIGION.

https://rumble.com/v63gvok-exploring-the-abrahamic-family-house-a-temple-to-world-religion.html

. Terrorist attacks continuing domestically and internationally as we have seen lately in NYC, Las Vegas, New Orleans and Germany.

. Tower of Babel 2.0 returning trying to destroy the work of the Lord and destroy humanity.

. Hatred of Jews and Christians continuing as well as antisemitism and hypocrisy towards Israel defending itself since Oct. 7th 2023.

. CBDC and creation of digital currency.

. SCIENCE AND TECHNOLOGY ALREADY FORECASTED IN 1997 BY DR. ANDY HINES AND JOSEPH COATES. THEY WROTE ABOUT IT BECAUSE IT WAS THERE ALREADY AND THEY IMPROVED IT.

. Markets crashes around the world.

. World War 3 starting in the Middle East.

. 7 years Tribulation coming after the Body of Christ is Raptured and the revelation on the antichrist bringing FALSE peace.

. Club of Rome division of the 10 regions, now Trudeau gone, Canada, Greenland, Panama fair game for Trump and Musk to get these countries and their rich natural resources.

. And more sinister outcomes as mentioned in the Book of Revelation by the Apostle John.

IT WILL NOT HAPPEN ALL IN 2025 BUT IT IS WHAT IS SURELY TO COME IN THE FOLLOWING YEARS.

THERE IS NO FEAR FOR THOSE THAT BELIEVE IN THE LORD JESUS CHRIST. HE IS OUR HOPE.

IF YOU DO NOT KNOW JESUS CHRIST AS YOUR SAVIOUR, HE IS READY TO GIVE YOU THE GIFT OF SALVATION RIGHT NOW:

A - Admit you are a sinner.

B - Believe in Jesus Christ, that He died for your sins and He resurrected and returning soon.

C - Call on His Name, confess that He is your Saviour now and forever.

As you come to Him, the Holy Spirit will seal you and will direct you to His Holy Word and reveal Himself to you and to all TRUTH.

God bless you all.

RECEIVE THE FREE GIFT OF SALVATION THAT THE LORD JESUS CHRIST READY TO GIVE YOU.

BUT HERE IS THE GOOD NEWS YOU CAN BE SAVED FROM ALL THIS AND BE TAKEN AWAY WITH HIM.

ONLY ONE SOLUTION SALVATION THROUGH THE LORD JESUS CHRIST WHAT HE WARNED US 2000 YEARS AGO HAPPENING NOW. REPENT, WE ARE ALL SINNERS, ACCEPT HIS FINISHED WORK AT THE CROSS AND BE SAVED FROM THIS WORLD GOING TO DESTRUCTION.

LET HIM DIRECT YOUR PATHS AND PROTECT YOU FROM WHAT IS COMING. HE IS THE TRUTH.

Thank-you to @godslove, @hiswordsarekisses, @heartsings77, and many others for all the gifs and memes.

Amen.

📯👑📯

🇮🇱👑🙏

🙏💖🌺🦋🕎✝️👑🇮🇱🕊📯

[lanaindublin]

Its been almost a month since my last post and I'm here to tell you the Iliad sucks dick

02/02/2025

Mind you not in the bad way, its just a very homoerotic story actually.

Part 1: The Iliad in brief

A lot of politics going on here: the godesses Hera, Athena and Aphrodite wanted to solve a dispute over whos the prettiest, they posed this question to Zeus, but he knows better than to pick favorites, and knew they wouldnt take "Ladies, youre ALL beautiful :) " as an answer. So Zeus picked this random Trojan named Paris to pick for him, however, with the godesses being metaphysical personifications of Land Wealth(war), Honor(war) and Love(war) respectively, this posed a problem for Paris to actually make a meaningful decision, so the godesses decided to just bride him instead. Aphrodite won the bidding war by offering him the love of Helen, the most beautiful woman in the world. Unfortunately, Hera and Athena HATE losing, and also unfortunately, Helen was already married to the king of Sparta. Didn't stop Paris though, Aphrodite gave him a pat on the back, said "go get em tiger", and he and Helen eloped to Troy. And so, there was war.

The story really kicks off with two Achaean generals Achilleus and Agamemnon on the warpath to troy (Helen's husband Menelaus is also there). Unfortunately Agamamnemon made a fucky wucky and took a priests daughter as one of his war trophy wives, this was a certified fumble as the priest had Hermes as a plug and sent him a DM saying:

"Hey Hermano, we're tight, I've been telling people how the gods are merciful and just for decades for sure, done so many goat sacrifices, and I don't want any reward ya know, I do it for the love of the game, you know this. Anyway some fuckin gyros have Taken (2008) my daughter on their way to Troy (2004) and I'm no fuckin Liam Neeson, and they've got so many greasy bronze clad guys, could you, idk, send them a strongly worded letter? I know thats your whole thing. Nbd if you're busy, just sucks I gotta empty my own chamber pots now ya know :("

Hermes, being a real one, then cursed the entire Achaean army with explosive diarea until the priest's daughter was returned.

This caused Aggymnemnem to enter a temper tantrum after the priest's daughter was released, as he now had less toys than Achilleus did, demanding Achilleus give him one of his war trophy wives to make up for it, after the whole invasion is nearly called off Achilleus agrees to the exchange, but warns Agmnomnom that hes going to be super pouty about it for the rest of story.

Our protagonists blessed by Hera and Athena, arrive at Troy, blessed by Aphrodite, also their the antagonists of the story so Ares is backing them too. But before we get into any actual fields of battle, slaughter and valor, our narrator Homer needs to perform his customary circlejerk and list off every member of the Achaian forces, which boat they were in, which lands they came from, how many dogs they had back at home, and what they had to eat that morning. Forcing my way through this chapter put me off reading books for four years and I hate it to this day.

After all are accounted for the Achaian and Trojan armies meet in the fields of troy, but Menelaus demands a parlay, offering to avoid mass bloodshed by settling Helen's future ragtime pal by way of a duel between him and Paris. Paris, actually being a pretty chill guy agrees to this request, and subsequently gets his ass handed to him. Before Menelaus hits the killing blow Aphrodite teleports her special little guy back to Helen's chambers in Troy, nobody is happy about this, Athena isnt happy about this, Hera isnt happy about this, Zeus isnt happy about this, the greeks arent happy about this, and the Trojans realising theyre not getting the evening off probably arent happy about this either.

The next 19 chapters are a whole lot of fighting, a lot of big burly men killing eachother with Spears, swords, bows and large rocks. But Achilleus, being the drama queen he is, refuses to partake in the fighting because of the drama with Amagenon. Unfortunately the Trojans beat them all the way back to their ships, at which point Achilleus' husband Patroclus approaches saying "Bro, this is officially not cool, we need your inspiring presence on the battlefield like right now. Youre really gonna keep doing this because Ag-man has more bitches than you? Look, you dont even need to go just let me wear your armour and I'll pretend to be you for a bit. No sweat." Achilleus, unable to say no to that hot piece of ass agrees to the proposal and lets him go with his armor into battle. Unfortunately, Patroclus lasts all of five minutes before hes killed and Achilleus' armor is stolen. Achilleus, enraged and despairing at the loss of his manwife proceeds to slaughter half the trojan army and kill their general Hector, dragging his corpse qround behind his chariot until Hector's father comes out and begs him to stop, then they both cry about it.

Part 2: What the Hades was all that?

Did you know Zack Snyder read the Iliad? I dont KNOW that he did but I'd be willing to bet he did. Some of the battle sequences from the 300 look like they were lifted wholesale from the verses of this poem, and indeed, therein lies one of the greatest strengths of this story: the countless ways bronze-clad men can absolutely brutalise eachother with the limited tools at their disposal. I dont know if the epic of gilgamesh, or other older poetey or prose, had equally graphic and granular depictions of open-field battles, but this one really feels like it set the standard for the next 2800 years.

And of course, it has all the trappings that youd want from an ancient greek story: political intrigue, the gods being more flawed and human than the actual humans in the story, homoerotic undertones, and absolutely no love for the women involved in the story. Helen, the priest's daughter are only ever mentioned in passing, and the godesses all either act rashly or wrathfully. While I personally prefer the sequel poem 'The Odyssey' I can't deny the Iliad's strengths and its importance in storytelling history but GODS DAMN this book was a struggle to get through...never have I fallen asleep more times while trying to get through a paragraph describing a horse-drawn chariot, or the tide of battle, or men caving eachothers skull on with rocks. I honestly dont recall if I committed to reading through the entire catalogue of ships or if i skipped right to the end. The final act of the book is pretty neat with the wrath of Achilleus, and the surprisingly somber ending with Achilleus and Hector's father agreeing to put the battle on pause for a week to allow them to mourn their lost loved ones.

Cant reccomend reading it for recreation, but if you want to know the first thing about greek mythology outside of the various woman-shaped cryptids, this should be your first stop....but maybe just skim The Catalogue of Ships you'll do your head in gettng anything out of it.

[lthienofdorthonion]

The Alchemy Between Us: Draco and Hermione’s Tale

Summary:

Ten years after the Battle of Hogwarts, Hermione Granger is a shadow of her former self. With Harry gone and her failed relationship with Ron behind her, she throws herself into her work at the Ministry of Magic, avoiding the lingering emptiness that threatens to consume her. One cold winter night, seeking a reprieve from her relentless routine, she stumbles into a quiet pub—and into the unexpected presence of Draco Malfoy. It's been over five years since their paths last crossed, and the man she meets now is nothing like the boy she once knew. As their lives intertwine in ways neither anticipated, old wounds, unspoken truths, and unexpected feelings begin to surface. In the wake of war and loss, can two former enemies find solace—and maybe even love—in each other?

In response to a prompt by iwasbotwp in the SlytherinHouseStories collection. (Archive of Our Own/AO3)

Prompt:

A hug from a tall man who smells good and has tattoos would make me feel better right now.

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Author Notes:

This story is born thanks to the best group of Slytherin housemates I've ever met. We share something in common: the beauty of writing. Everyday, we share about our lives and then encourage each other to write. Having difficulty finding things in my life that make me smile, this is truly a blessing. I feel fortunate. And today 1/10/2025 they encouraged us to write a short story.

The pairing could be random but I knew it had to be Dramione.

Inspired on "Something in the rain (2018)" both soundtrack and TV series, "The Beauty inside (2015)", "Pride and Prejudice (2005)", "The Notebook (2004)", the beautiful music of Carla Bruni and a generous dose of corny love stories—because, well, I’m hopelessly corny.

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, inspired by the Harry Potter universe and the characters I love so much. I am not trying, under any circumstances, to take authorship of J.K. Rowling's original work. All rights belong to the creator of this incredible saga.

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

The Alchemy Between Us: Draco and Hermione’s Tale

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚              I              ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

“Happiness only real when shared.” ― Christopher McCandless

Ten years had passed since the war that shattered and remade the wizarding world. The scars of those turbulent times lingered, etched into both the magical and the mundane. For many, life was measured in "before" and "after" the Battle of Hogwarts. It was a new era, shaped by sacrifice and loss but also by resilience.

Voldemort had fallen, but not without taking Harry Potter with him. Their final duel was as devastating as it was decisive, and Harry’s death had left an unfillable void. The Boy Who Lived became the Man Who Sacrificed Everything, immortalized in statues, stories, and an annual day of remembrance. The world mourned him as a symbol of bravery, peace, and the ultimate cost of freedom.

Hermione Granger, now 27, had rebuilt her life through sheer determination. As the head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, she was a force to be reckoned with—brilliant, relentless, and utterly devoted to her work. But behind the polished exterior lay a woman carrying the weight of what she had lost. Her bushy hair, now tamed into long, cascading curls, framed a face that bore the quiet strength of someone who had endured more than most could imagine. Hermione was beautiful in a way that came not from vanity but from the confidence and purpose that defined her. Yet, she was a workaholic, finding solace in diplomacy and treaties instead of in personal connections.

The loss of Harry had carved a deep wound into Hermione’s heart, one that time could not fully mend. He had been her constant—a brother in all but blood. Harry’s bravery and kindness had been the anchor that kept her steady during the darkest days of the war. Without him, the world seemed quieter, emptier. She missed the way he always knew what to say to make her feel understood. His absence lingered in every corner of her life, like a quiet ache she carried like a shadow.

In the immediate aftermath of Harry’s death, the brunette had thrown herself into her work. Grief had a way of making the familiar unbearable, and the places they used to frequent felt haunted by his memory. She rarely allowed herself to cry, fearing that if she started, she might never stop. Instead, she channeled her emotions into action, pouring her energy into rebuilding the wizarding world he had sacrificed everything to save. Harry had always believed in her, and she worked tirelessly to honor that belief, even when it left her drained and isolated.

Her love life was a testament to her struggles. In the aftermath of the war, she had tried to build something with Ron. What began as a refuge of shared grief and familiarity soon turned toxic and possessive on Ron’s end. Their fights were loud and frequent and it just became too much. After almost a year, Hermione made the painful decision to end it. Though they remained on amicable terms, Ron struggled with the shift from lovers to friends. He made genuine efforts to reconnect with Hermione, but his lingering feelings often bled through. He was flirty, occasionally asked her out under the guise of "just catching up," and seemed to hope that time would rekindle something between them. Hermione, however, kept firm boundaries, navigating their friendship with patience and clarity despite his persistence.

Even now, ten years later, Hermione found herself reflecting on Harry’s absence. There were moments—quiet evenings at home or during celebrations of his legacy—when she could almost hear his voice, offering words of encouragement or gently teasing her for overworking. The weight of his loss was a reminder that even peace came with a price, and she carried that burden as she tried to build a future worthy of his sacrifice.

Ginny Weasley’s grief had been a wound she could never ignore. Hermione remembered the days after the war when the redhead had retreated from the world, shrouded in the unbearable pain of losing Harry. Their relationship had been full of love and promise—a rare source of hope in the dark times they all endured. But Harry’s death had shattered that future, leaving her adrift.

Hermione had been there for her friend, though she often felt helpless in the face of Ginny’s sorrow. She knew what it meant to grieve for Harry; she carried her own loss like a quiet ache. But Ginny’s pain was different—sharper, more immediate. Hermione had done her best, providing a steady presence as her friend navigated the impossible path of healing.

When Theodore Nott entered her friend’s life, Hermione had been skeptical. The quiet Slytherin with a murky past seemed an unlikely match for the redhead’s fiery spirit. But over time, Hermione watched the way Theo treated her friend—with patience, understanding, and an unwavering respect that allowed her to find herself again. He didn’t see Ginny as a woman defined by her grief. He saw her, truly and completely, and that made all the difference.

Now, years later, Ginny and Theo’s love was one of the brightest parts of Hermione’s life. The redhead had transformed into someone stronger, freer, and full of life again, and Hermione couldn’t help but feel grateful for Theo’s role in that. Her best friend’s happiness was infectious, and the time they spent together had become a cherished escape from the rigors of her own life.

Hermione and Ginny met at least twice a week, whether for dinner, coffee, or long chats that often stretched late into the night. These moments were Hermione’s lifeline, pulling her out of the constant demands of her job and reminding her of what truly mattered. Ginny’s laughter had a way of filling whatever space they were in, and her mischievous wit could draw even the most reluctant smile from her.

Yet, there was a bittersweet undercurrent to her joy for Ginny and Theo. Watching them together, so at ease in their love, warmed her heart but also stirred something else she couldn’t quite ignore. Don’t get me wrong, Hermione was happy for her friend, truly, but seeing Ginny and Theo’s quiet intimacy, the way they shared glances and small touches, reminded her of what she didn’t have.

She buried herself in work, yes, but there were nights when the loneliness pressed heavily on her. Hermione longed for someone to come home to, someone to share her triumphs and frustrations with, someone whose arms she could fall into when the weight of the world became too much. There were times when she almost caved to Ron’s attempts to get back together. He was persistent, and the familiarity of him was tempting in those moments when the solitude felt overwhelming.

But each time, she stopped herself. Did she really want to go back there? The answer was an immediate no. She had ended things for a reason. She didn’t want to make decisions based on loneliness, to settle for something that wasn’t right simply because it was easier than being alone. Hermione wanted something real, something that moved her, something that made her feel alive.

And so, she waited, telling herself that if such a connection was meant to happen, it would. Until then, she carried on, finding solace in her work, her friendships, and the hope that one day, her own story of love and connection would unfold.

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Winter had arrived with an undeniable presence, casting the magical world in a blanket of pure white. It was December, and snow covered every rooftop, lamppost, and cobblestone street. Hogsmeade was picturesque, its shops adorned with enchanted fairy lights that blinked like stars. Even Diagon Alley was transformed, its bustling lanes dusted with snow that melted only slightly under the warmth of charmed lanterns. The air carried a crisp chill that turned every breath into visible puffs, and the streets hummed with the quiet joy of the season.

At the Ministry of Magic, however, the festive atmosphere did little to alleviate Hermione Granger’s mounting stress. She was in the thick of negotiations with the French Ministry, attempting to finalize an international trade agreement involving enchanted artifacts. The work required precision, diplomacy, and endless patience—all things Hermione typically excelled at. But her boss, Roderick Panswick, was making things unnecessarily difficult.

Panswick was the sort of man who thrived on asserting authority. He had a penchant for micromanaging, swooping into Hermione’s meticulously prepared plans with unnecessary changes and half-formed ideas that left her scrambling to keep the agreement from falling apart. The stress was wearing on her; even her usually pristine desk was cluttered with scrolls and half-empty teacups. By the time she left the office, her shoulders ached, her head throbbed, and she felt like she’d been wrung out like a dishrag.

Ginny had promised they would meet after work for a drink at the pub—a much-needed escape. Hermione had dressed for the occasion, feeling a rare flicker of excitement. The redhead had insisted they make a proper night of it, and together they’d chosen Hermione’s outfit the weekend before: a form-fitting burgundy dress with a modest slit at the side, paired with heeled boots and a stylish wool coat that hugged her figure. The dress was simple but undeniably flattering, a step outside the brunette’s usual workwear. She put on a matching red lipstick, also her friend’s gift. Ginny had even added her signature touch by teaching her how to enchant her curls to frame her face perfectly.

But just as the lioness finished getting ready, she received an owl from the redhead. The note was hurried, apologetic—Theo needed her help with something urgent, and she couldn’t make it. Hermione’s heart sank as she read it. She had been looking forward to the evening, to a chance to vent, laugh, and perhaps drown her stress in a few too many glasses of Firewhisky. Now, the prospect of going alone felt daunting, but the thought of staying home was worse.

The pub was buzzing with the low hum of conversation as Hermione stepped inside, brushing the drizzle from her hair. The warmth of the Silver Stag was a welcome reprieve from the damp chill of the December evening. Tucked away on a quiet street in Diagon Alley, the Silver Stag had a reputation as a cozy yet lively spot for those looking to escape the winter cold with a warm drink and good company.

She had planned for a quiet night—just one drink to unwind before heading home to the mountain of parchment awaiting her review. But the place was packed.

Hermione scanned the room, noting with mild irritation that every table was full. Her usual corner booth, a snug spot near the enchanted window that showed falling snow even on clear nights, was taken by a group of young witches laughing over Butterbeers. Even the bar was packed, the stools occupied by rowdy wizards animatedly discussing the latest Quidditch match.

With a sigh, she turned her attention back toward the entrance, thinking she might try another place, but then decided against it. The Silver Stag had been her comfort zone for years, and tonight, she needed comfort.

Instead, Hermione approached the bar, weaving through the bustling crowd until she reached the counter. The bartender, an older wizard named Benwick with a thick salt-and-pepper beard, looked up as she approached.

“Evening, Miss Granger,” he said, setting down a polished goblet with a smile. “What can I get you tonight?”

“Hi, Benwick,” Hermione said, returning his smile with a faint one of her own. “Honestly, I could use a Firewhisky—or two. But before that, is there anywhere I can sit? It’s absolutely packed tonight.”

Benwick poured a generous amount of Firewhisky into a glass and slid it toward her with a knowing grin.

“You���ve got that right. Winter nights always bring a crowd, and with the snow picking up outside, everyone’s huddling in for the evening.”

Hermione sighed, leaning her elbows against the counter. “I just need a quiet spot. Anywhere, really. It’s been one of those days.”

Benwick chuckled, the sound warm and familiar. “I might have just the place. Follow me.”

“Thank you,” Hermione said, her relief evident as she trailed behind him through the maze of tables. Her thoughts wandered as they moved—she thought about the stack of work waiting for her at home, Ginny canceling on her at the last minute, and the ache of loneliness that seemed sharper in the cold of December.

They reached the far side of the room, and Benwick stopped. 

“Here you are,” Benwick said, gesturing to a small table tucked in a quieter corner. “There’s a seat with this gentleman.”

Hermione looked up—and her breath caught in her throat.

It was Malfoy.

The blond was seated there with his chair slightly angled away from the crowd, one hand wrapped around a glass of amber liquid. His hair, once meticulously slicked back, now fell to his shoulders—slightly unruly, but it looked good. Ridiculously good . His long, lean frame was clad in a dark shirt and his sleeves rolled up to reveal forearms inked with magical runes that shimmered faintly in the flickering light of the lantern above. His neck, too, was partially tattooed, the dark ink snaking up from his collar, adding a dangerous edge to his already imposing figure. He was surprisingly tall, even while seated, and his scent—a subtle combination of ciderwood, parchment, and mint—clung to him like an invisible aura. He looked... different. Pleasantly different.

And yet, entirely himself.

Malfoy’s gaze lifted from his drink and his silver-grey eyes locked with hers. She had forgotten how piercingly deep his eyes were. His expression shifted from mild surprise to something unreadable.

“Benwick, I—” Hermione began and her voice faltered as she realized where he’d brought her.

“No need to thank me,” the bartender said with a wink. “Enjoy your evening, Miss Granger.” With that, he turned and disappeared back into the crowd.

Hermione stood frozen, feeling her stomach twisting as Malfoy’s gaze remained fixed on her. For a moment, she thought about leaving, walking straight back to the bar or even Apparating home. But the room was too crowded, and retreating would only make things more awkward.

She hadn’t seen Malfoy in five years, not since his trial. Even then, their interaction had been brief but strangely memorable—a surprising nod of gratitude from him after her testimony, and nothing more. Yet the memory of that moment prickled at her now, though she couldn’t quite place why.

After the war, Malfoy was sentenced to 20 years in Azkaban for his involvement with Voldemort and the Death Eaters. While he hadn’t been one of Voldemort’s most active followers, his name alone was enough to warrant a harsh sentence. However, following an appeal, the wizarding world watched with bated breath as he faced a public trial that would decide whether he could reintegrate into magical society and whether the five years he had already served—marked by good behavior and clear efforts to improve—would be enough to grant him a second chance. In a surprising turn of events, Hermione had testified in his favor.

She stood before the Wizengamot and argued that Draco Malfoy had been a victim of circumstance, a boy thrust into a war he hadn’t chosen, forced to bear the weight of his family’s decisions. She spoke of his hesitation in carrying out Voldemort’s orders, of the way he had lowered his wand in the final battle, unable to take a life. And she reminded the court of his mother, Narcissa Malfoy, whose small act of defiance—lying to Voldemort about Harry’s death—had ultimately turned the tide of the war.

It was a controversial stance, one that drew whispers and raised eyebrows, but it worked. Malfoy was granted his freedom, albeit under intense scrutiny.

The Malfoys had suffered enormous losses by then. Lucius Malfoy had died in the war, leaving Narcissa to salvage what remained of their family’s fractured reputation. Although she was absolved of all charges, the family’s once-imposing presence in society had crumbled. Their name, once synonymous with power and influence, became one shrouded in disdain and mistrust.

Even so, they remained wealthy—an irritating truth that only seemed to intensify the public’s resentment. But money couldn’t shield them from the weight of social exile. Few wanted anything to do with the Malfoys. Gossip swirled that Draco had become a recluse, retreating to the vast emptiness of Malfoy Manor or some distant property to live as a hermit.

That image lingered in Hermione’s mind as she sat across from him now. The man before her looked so far removed from the boy she had known at Hogwarts, yet something about him was hauntingly familiar. His nod of gratitude all those years ago had been silent, fleeting, but it had carried a depth that had stayed with her longer than she cared to admit.

The fact that the pub was so full made Malfoy’s empty chair all the more noticeable. He was a figure who couldn’t easily slip into the background—his pale blond hair, sharp features, and unmistakable presence were hard to miss. Despite the crowded pub, no one dared to approach his table. It explained why the seat was vacant when all others were occupied.

Hermione could feel the eyes of the other wizards and witches lingering on him as she sat down. She was keenly aware of the stares—some curious, some filled with disgust. It was clear that many knew exactly who he was, and their disdain was palpable. She could almost hear the unspoken judgments in the silence that followed her decision to sit across from him.

But Malfoy didn’t seem to notice. Or, if he did, he didn’t care. His attention remained fixed on his drink, as if the world around him didn’t exist.

“Granger,” Malfoy said at last, in a calm voice but tinged with curiosity. “Are you planning to stand there all night, or…?”

Her cheeks flushed, and she straightened her posture. “Apparently, this is the only seat left,” she said briskly, stepping forward.

Malfoy’s lips curved into a faint smirk. “Lucky me.” He gestured to the empty chair across from him.

With a steadying breath, Hermione sat down and placed her drink on the table, reminding herself that it was just one drink. She could endure one drink.

If Malfoy noticed her approach, he gave no indication and his attention was seemingly fixed on the glass in his hand. She hesitated briefly, debating whether to say something or simply turn and leave, but the growing ache in her feet from a long day at work had already made the decision for her.

Once seated, she unfastened her coat and draped it neatly over the back of her chair, revealing the form-fitting burgundy dress she had chosen—or rather, had been coerced into wearing. The fabric hugged her frame in ways that made her feel both daring and uncomfortably exposed, with a modest slit at the side that displayed more of her legs than she would have liked. She silently cursed Ginny for suggesting the dress, swearing she’d have a word with her about it later.

Malfoy’s eyes shifted to her then, and she caught the faintest flicker of surprise before his expression returned to its usual indifference. He scanned her slowly, his gaze sweeping from her tousled curls to the hem of her dress and back up again. His appraisal was subtle but thorough, lingering just long enough to send a flush creeping up her neck.

Hermione shifted in her seat, tugging the hem of the dress down slightly as though to shield herself from his scrutiny. But before she could say anything—or gather the courage to meet his gaze—he turned back to his drink, dismissing her presence as though it were of no particular importance.

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” Hermione said finally, breaking the silence.

“Likewise,” he replied. “I thought you’d be at work, as usual.”

Hermione bristled slightly. “And I thought you’d be... well, somewhere else.”

He smirked, but it was faint, almost self-deprecating. “I suppose I deserve that.”

She studied him more closely now and her initial discomfort gave way to curiosity. He seemed... settled, in a way she hadn’t expected. The tension that used to coil in his shoulders was gone, replaced by something quieter, more reflective.

“So, what are you doing these days?” she asked, trying to sound casual but not entirely succeeding.

Malfoy’s gaze lingered on her for a moment before he answered. “Enchanting,” he said simply.

She frowned, not understanding.

“Magical enchantments,” he clarified. “Objects, artifacts, even spaces. It’s... a living.”

“Enchantments,” she repeated, the word rolling off her tongue with mild disbelief. “I wouldn’t have pegged you for that.”

He shrugged, taking a sip of his drink. “It’s precise work. Requires focus, skill. And it keeps me out of trouble, which I imagine is what you’re really wondering about.”

Hermione flushed. “That’s not—well, maybe a little.”

Draco chuckled softly, the sound low and unguarded. “Honesty suits you, Granger.”

This exchange surprised her. It was the longest conversation they had ever had, and certainly the first time they’d spoken without their usual barbed insults. What was more startling was the way he was acting—kind of... nice? Definitely not like him. But there it was, in the calm way he spoke, in the faint laugh that seemed to warm the room. She didn’t quite know how to process it.

Silence fell between them again, and Hermione found herself glancing around the pub. She was hyper aware of him—of the way his fingers tapped idly against his glass, the faint shimmer of magic in the tattoos on his arms and the subtle but intoxicating scent of his cologne.

“Why did you testify for me?” he asked suddenly, in a quieter voice now, almost hesitant.

Hermione blinked, caught off guard by the question. 

“You were a victim of circumstance,” she said after a moment. “You were young, manipulated. I thought you deserved a second chance.”

His eyes searched hers, and she felt the weight of his gaze. “Most people wouldn’t have bothered.”

“I’m not most people.”

A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “No, you’re not.”

They lapsed into silence once more, but this time, it felt less strained. Hermione sipped her firewhisky, letting its warmth seep into her, and stole another glance at him.

“You’ve changed,” she said softly.

“So have you,” he replied in an equally quiet voice.

She looked down at her hands, her fingers tracing the rim of her glass. “I suppose we’ve all had to, haven’t we?”

Malfoy nodded. 

“War does that to people.”

The mention of the war hung heavy between them, bringing with it the ghosts of those they had lost—Harry and so many others. Hermione felt the familiar ache rise in her chest, but she pushed it down, unwilling to let it consume her tonight.

When she looked up, she found Malfoy watching her and his gaze was softer than she remembered.

After a moment of contemplation, she spoke again in a lighter tone this time. “I must admit, I’m surprised to find you here. There were rumors, you know. That you’d become a hermit.”

Draco laughed, a bitter edge to it, and took another drink. “Kind of did,” he said. “No one really wanted to have anything to do with me after all that.”

He paused and his eyes flickered over to a group of wizards across the room who were staring at him full of disgust. He leaned back slightly in his chair and added, almost under his breath, “Even now.”

As if on cue, the wizards who had been eyeing him turned their backs with almost exaggerated speed, as if afraid to even acknowledge his presence. Malfoy didn’t seem to care.

Hermione shrugged, her voice calm but resolute. “You did your time, and you did good. You’re free now. People should move on.”

He regarded her for a long moment, his expression unreadable, before he set his glass down and leaned forward slightly. “You’re not wrong. But it’s hard to move on when no one’s willing to let you.”

They both fell into another moment of quiet and the air between them felt comfortable but heavy with the weight of unspoken things. They both reached for their drinks again, and took a larger sip.

The burn of the firewhisky hit her throat immediately, sharp and fiery, and she couldn’t help but wince. Her face scrunched up comically, and she quickly set the glass down, trying to hide her reaction behind a forced cough.

Draco’s eyes gleamed with amusement as he caught the look. He chuckled, low and genuine. “I didn’t take you for someone who couldn’t handle their drink, Granger.”

Hermione shot him a look, trying to regain her composure. “I can handle it,” she said, but her voice was a little strained from the lingering burn. “I just… wasn’t expecting that.”

Malfoy leaned back with a small smile still tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Right,” he said. “Well, next time, maybe ease into it a bit more.”

She rolled her eyes, but there was a flicker of amusement in her own gaze. “Next time, I think I’ll just stick to something milder.”

They both took another sip, each in their own way processing the comfort of the moment—the strange, unexpected camaraderie that had developed between them tonight. Neither seemed eager to break the silence, but the words seemed to flow easier as the minutes passed.

They lingered for a while longer, not yet ready to break the spell of the unexpected calm they had found in each other’s company. The firewhisky had dulled the edges of their usual sharpness, and the usual banter was replaced by something far more raw and open.

Malfoy shifted in his seat and his eyes studied the now empty glass in his hand for a moment before he spoke. “You know… I never really thought I’d be here—sitting across from you, talking like this.”

Hermione raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. “No?”

“No,” he muttered, letting out a bitter laugh that sounded more like a self-directed sneer. “I was a bloody idiot back then, wasn’t I? Immature, selfish, impulsive... I thought I had it all figured out, but I didn’t know a damn thing.”

His words took her off guard. She had expected sarcasm, even a hint of the familiar arrogance, but instead, his voice was flat, almost... regretful.

“None of us knew anything back then,” Hermione replied softly, her tone genuine but hesitant, unsure of how to respond to the sudden vulnerability in his words.

He scoffed lightly, shaking his head. “I should’ve known better. I should’ve seen through all of it—the lies, the manipulation. I should’ve… done something. Instead, I followed blindly. I’ve been paying for it ever since.”

His eyes flickered to hers, and for a fleeting moment, Hermione saw something that made her heart ache—a kind of self-loathing that seemed to weigh him down.

“I didn’t even realize how much of a prick I was until after the war,” Draco admitted. “Everything I thought was important—blood, status, power—it didn’t matter. In the end, none of it did. And now... now I just hate myself for it.”

His voice was quieter now, raw, as though he were speaking his confessions aloud for the first time.

Hermione felt the sting of sympathy but didn’t know how to offer comfort. What could she say? What could she do to make him feel better about himself after everything he’d been through? But then, she realized, maybe this was his way of reaching out—letting someone see the version of him he had long buried.

“I don’t think you’re a lost cause,” she said carefully, choosing her words. “People change. We all do. You can’t undo the past, but you can start fresh.”

Draco let out a bitter chuckle, though it lacked humor. “Fresh? I wish it were that simple. It’s not like I just get a free pass. People like me don’t get to just start over, Granger. No one wants to forgive, no one wants to forget. Even now...” He trailed off and his eyes flickered across the room, where a few wizards were still casting sideways glances at him, their disdain as palpable as the stale air in the pub.

He gestured toward them with a faint smirk. “See? Even now, they still can’t let it go. And I don’t think they ever will.”

Hermione followed his gaze, and for the first time, she understood just how much weight he was carrying. There were no comforting words for moments like these.

“You know, you’re right,” she said, her voice taking on a slightly somber note. “It’s not easy. People judge quickly, and it’s hard to let go of the past when it’s constantly shoved in your face.”

She shifted, leaning back in her chair. 

“But I think you’ve done enough. You’ve done the work. People should just move on, and they should let you move on too.”

Malfoy didn’t reply immediately, and when he finally spoke, his voice was quieter. 

“Maybe... maybe you’re right. But I’ve been so used to being the villain, I don’t know how to be anything else.”

He chuckled bitterly, the sound carrying a trace of sadness. “I didn’t ask for any of this—this life, this reputation. But it’s mine now. And I’m stuck with it.”

For a moment, Hermione didn’t know what to say. It felt strange, hearing Draco Malfoy speak this openly. It was as if she was meeting someone new—someone who wasn’t the arrogant, snide Slytherin from Hogwarts, but a man who had been humbled by his own mistakes and the world’s harsh judgments. She was still trying to process it when he spoke again, in a softer voice now.

“Anyway... enough about me,” Malfoy said, with a weak attempt at deflection. “What about you? Has life been kind to the Golden Girl of Gryffindor?”

Hermione snorted, a small smile tugging at her lips despite herself. “Not exactly. But I guess I can’t complain.”

She leaned forward. Her elbows were resting on the counter, looking at him thoughtfully. “It hasn’t been easy for me either. After everything… it took time. I thought I had everything figured out too, you know? But the war changed all of us. And I’ve lost people. Good people.”

Her voice faltered, just for a second, as she thought of Harry, Fred, and all the others they’d lost.

“I get it,” she continued in a steadier voice now. “You feel like you’re stuck with the person you used to be, and people expect you to be that person forever. But the truth is, we’re all just doing the best we can. That’s all any of us can do.”

The words seemed to linger in the air, and for a brief, almost surreal moment, they were just two people—two flawed, imperfect people—trying to make sense of the wreckage left behind.

They drank in silence for a few moments. And then, as the last of their drinks were gone, Draco glanced at her with an unreadable expression.

A few beats of quiet passed before he finally spoke and he seemed suddenly nervous. 

“Want another drink? My treat.”

Hermione hesitated, surprised by the offer. But then, with a resigned sigh, she glanced at the clock on the wall. “Well, Ginny made me dress up and come out tonight. I’m already here... I suppose another drink won’t hurt.”

She smiled faintly with a glint of mischief in her eyes. “But you owe me one for getting me into this.”

Malfoy raised an eyebrow and a familiar smirk returned to his lips. “Oh, I’m sure you’ll find a way to repay me.”

She could feel the tension in the air, the subtle shift that had nothing to do with the conversation but everything to do with the space between them. The words they had shared had peeled back layers of things they didn’t usually reveal—and now, it was almost like they were on the precipice of something else, something unspoken.

They both ordered another round, and as the minutes bled into hours, the conversation meandered through unexpected territories. The firewhisky continued to flow, its warmth seeping into their bones, dulling the sharp edges of reality. Every sip was another step down a path neither of them had anticipated when they first sat down.

The conversation took on an almost intimate air, the kind that only alcohol and the passage of time could create. They spoke about what they enjoyed doing in their quieter moments—those little things that made them feel alive when the world seemed too heavy.

Draco’s voice was thoughtful as he spoke, his eyes locked on the amber liquid swirling in his glass. “You know, I’ve always liked painting,” he said, a small, almost nostalgic smile tugging at his lips.

Hermione blinked, surprised. “Painting? Really?”

“Yeah,” he admitted, his tone casual but with an undercurrent of sincerity. “I started back at Hogwarts. It was… well, it was the only thing that made sense to me, at the time. I was never any good at Potions or Transfiguration. But with a brush in my hand, things felt different. I could create something, you know? Something that didn’t feel dictated by anyone else.”

She watched him closely, a hint of curiosity piquing her interest. “I had no idea. You’ve never mentioned it.”

“No one ever asked,” Draco said, his words tinged with bitterness, though not directed at her. “I guess I didn’t think anyone would care. It was always easier to lean into the family business—the Death Eater shit. Everyone expected that. They didn’t expect someone like me to want to paint, to make art. They wanted a Malfoy who could follow orders, who could uphold the family’s 'honor.' And I was too stupid and arrogant to know any better.”

He took a long sip from his glass, his eyes shifting towards the empty space in front of them, as if lost in thought.

Hermione was taken aback. The Draco Malfoy she’d known—hell, the Draco Malfoy everyone knew—would have scoffed at such a revelation. Yet here he was, a man disarming himself piece by piece, revealing the raw core of someone who had been suffocating under expectations for far too long.

“That’s... that’s kind of beautiful,” she said quietly. “I never would’ve guessed.”

Draco gave a small, self-deprecating laugh. “You probably shouldn’t. Most people think I’m a lost cause.”

Hermione smiled, the warmth of the whisky giving her the courage to speak her mind. “I don’t think you're a lost cause. You’ve changed. You’re different from the person I remember.”

He raised an eyebrow at her and a spark of something—curiosity, maybe—flickered in his eyes. “What about you?”

Hermione paused, considering the question. Her fingers traced the edge of her glass, contemplating how much to reveal. She hadn't expected to share anything personal tonight, certainly not in this way. But something about the intimacy of the moment—combined with the alcohol—made her feel like the truth was the only thing left to offer.

“I’ve... developed a habit of smashing things,” she said, her voice low and almost sheepish. Draco’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Smashing things? Like what, exactly?”

“Abandoned houses,” she said, the words slipping out before she could fully stop them. “It’s not as crazy as it sounds. After the war, everyone expected me to be perfect—someone who’d helped take down Voldemort, who was supposed to be this beacon of hope, in the loss of… Harry. They wanted me to carry his message and become a public speaker to share his philosophy. But I wasn’t perfect. I wasn’t healed, and I didn’t know how to deal with everything that happened. So, I started going into abandoned houses—places no one cared about—and I bashed things. Glass, walls, chairs, whatever I could find. It was a way to let out the anger, the frustration. A way to tell the world to leave me the hell alone. I’m just a normal witch. I don’t have to be anything else.”

She met his gaze, trying to gauge his reaction. The silence between them was heavy, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was… understanding. As though he knew exactly what she meant.

“You do that in secret?” Draco asked quietly and softly.

Hermione nodded. “I didn’t want anyone to know. If they had, I think they’d have been disappointed. They expected me to be some kind of hero, a symbol. I never asked for that.”

Malfoy sat back. “I get it. The pressure to be something you’re not… It’s suffocating, isn’t it?”

She nodded, feeling her heart strangely lighter now that she had shared a piece of herself. It felt almost absurdly freeing to admit it out loud, to finally let someone see the cracks in her perfect façade.

Hermione took a deep breath, feeling a lump form in her throat as she tried to push through the weight of her emotions. "I miss Harry," she said quietly with her voice thick with nostalgia. "He was so real. So pure, you know? There was no pretending with him. We had something... so simple, so honest. A real frienship. And now it feels like everything's changed since he's been gone." Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears, the ache of his absence was still so fresh after all these years. "He never asked for anything. He just... gave."

Draco’s gaze softened and his usual aloofness replaced by something more vulnerable. "I think about him, too," he admitted quietly. "Almost daily, actually. Sometimes, I still can't believe he's gone."

Hermione looked up in surprise, not expecting that admission from him. "Really?" she whispered.

He nodded, staring down at the table for a moment before looking back at her. "When I first met him—at Hogwarts, in first year—I wanted to be his friend. I thought he was... well, a badass." His lips curved into a rueful smile. "I’d heard about him, about how he survived. Everyone was always talking about Harry Potter, the boy who lived, and I thought—maybe I could get close to him, you know?"

Hermione’s breath caught in her throat as the blond continued. "I remember complaining about him to Dobby, after first year, about how annoying he was. But when I was alone, I’d confess to Dobby—I... I was jealous. I was jealous of you, of Weasley, of how you had real friendship, something I never had." He paused. His eyes were distant. "My friends... they were only there because I had the cool toys, the money, the status. Not because they really cared about me." His voice trailed off.

Hermione sat in stunned silence for a moment, letting the surprise of his words slowly sink in. She never imagined that Draco Malfoy, of all people, had ever felt that way. It made her heart ache for him, for the things he must’ve kept hidden away.

She shook her head softly and a tear slipped down her cheek as she spoke. "I never knew," she whispered, feeling her voice breaking. "I never knew you felt that way."

Malfoy looked away. "Not something I ever wanted anyone to know," he muttered. But then he glanced back at her, offering a small, almost sad smile. "But Harry... he was different. I didn't understand him then, but I do now. And I miss him too."

They both fell silent for a while. Finally, Hermione spoke again, her voice lightening just slightly. "Do you remember that time he... caused a Snake to appear when you both were in the Duelling Club? God, that was a mess." She smiled through the tears.

Draco let out a small laugh, shaking his head. "I think I nearly died watching him do that. He didn't think before he act, did he?"

Hermione chuckled softly, wiping at her eyes. "He always did that—acted before thinking. Like when I turned myself into a cat... after drinking that bloody Polyjuice Potion because we wanted to spy on you." She laughed "We thought you were the heir of Slytherin. I still don’t know how we didn’t get expelled for that."

Draco raised an eyebrow at her. "A cat, you say? I don't think I’ve heard that one."

She smiled sheepishly, her eyes glinting with the memory. "It was an accident. The potion, it was a mess. But I guess it’s just what we did back then—got into trouble without ever meaning to. Harry always worried, though. Worrying about everything... but never relaxing."

"Yeah," Draco muttered, looking lost in thought. "That was Potter. He was never really free, was he? Always carrying some weight on his shoulders."

Hermione looked down at her hands, blinking back tears. "It’s like he never really had a moment of peace in his life."

Draco nodded, his voice softer now. "But even with all that... he still smiled. He was... remarkable."

They both fell into a quiet moment, lost in the memory of Harry Potter. Slowly, tears began to fall from Hermione's eyes and Malfoy felt his eyes getting surprisingly teary, neither of them trying to stop it, just letting it happen. The grief, the shared memories—it was a catharsis, something they had both needed but hadn’t realized until now.

And as they talked, laughed, and cried over their memories of Harry, a new kind of understanding began to form between them—one built on honesty, vulnerability, and shared loss.

When the conversation finally tapered off, it wasn’t just the memory of Harry that filled the space between them; it was something else too. Something unexpected. They had started talking as enemies, but now—just for a moment—they were something else entirely.

They both fell into silence. Their drinks were now long gone, leaving only the ice clinking in the bottom of their empty glasses. They were no longer just two people from the past—they were two people, meeting each other anew, in a world that had changed them both.

And yet, despite the vulnerability of the conversation, despite the heavy truths, the air between them was thick with something else. Something that neither of them could ignore, something that neither of them had expected. Sexual tension, curiosity—an unspoken question lingering in the space between them.

The quiet stretched on, the freezing December night outside making the warmth of the pub feel all the more comforting. And as Draco’s gaze flickered to hers once again, Hermione realized they were standing on the precipice of something—something neither of them could quite define yet.

Eventually, as the last of the night wore on, they found themselves standing outside the pub, the cold night air biting at their skin. The bar had long since closed, and there was no one else around. It was just the two of them, surrounded by the quiet of the empty streets and with snow falling gently around them, blanketing the cobblestones in a shimmering white. They had kept talking until the bar closed at 3 in the morning, their words still flowing as if time hadn’t passed.

Malfoy stood with his hands tucked into his coat pockets, watching her quietly, his breath kept forming faint misty clouds in the freezing air.

Hermione tilted her head back, her eyes lifting to the sky. Small flakes landed on her flushed face, and she smiled—a soft, unguarded smile that made something twist in his chest. The alcohol painted her cheeks a rosy hue, and her eyes, illuminated by the stars and moonlight, seemed a brighter hazel than he remembered. There was something arresting about the way she stood there, so at ease, so unlike the Hermione Granger who always seemed burdened by the weight of the world.

She leaned back against the wall and turned her head toward him to make her gaze meeting his. His heart thudded faster in his chest, a sensation he couldn’t quite place but didn’t entirely dislike.

“Coffee,” she said abruptly, surprising even herself.

He raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

“Tomorrow,” she clarified, her cheeks flushing even deeper. “If you’re free. I... I’d like to talk more.”

Draco studied her for a long moment, his expression unreadable, though there was a softness in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. Slowly, he nodded. “I’d like that too.”

As they left the pub, the snow grew heavier, swirling around them in the night air. The freezing temperature was unrelenting, and Malfoy, without a word, slipped his coat off and draped it over her shoulders before she could protest. She hesitated, but the warmth of the fabric—and the faint scent of him, woodsy and clean—was comforting in a way she hadn’t expected.

And for the first time in years, Hermione felt as though the world, once weighed down by grief, might just surprise her again.

And for the first time in years, Draco felt as though he wasn’t as lost as he had once believed, as if a quiet sense of belonging had begun to take root inside him.

Neither of them could say what the future held, but in that fleeting, silent moment, they both sensed the whisper of something new, something delicate and full of promise—something worth exploring, together. Like Alchemy between them.

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Thank you for reading my story. This is response to a prompt and it was a challenge, It was supossed to be a short story. However, I realize I can't make short stories haha, I like long, complex stories filled with emotional moments and strong character development. Still, I did my best to make this story a sort of One Shot. I just posted it today so if the response is good and you want to read more, I can continue writing chapters and develop this story further.

Any comments are more than welcome ♥

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

READ THE STORY IN AO3:

[saintmeghanmarkle]

Rewriting History to Get His Own Way. by u/Winter-South-7448

Rewriting History to Get His Own Way. Can someone please archive:https://ift.tt/VohM2Lx. For several reasons:This is a re-writing of history. The former royal was told clearly at the Sandringham Summit that if he left, he would lose patronages, privileges, security, his royal duties, and financial support. The consequenses were so wide-ranging, Her Majesty QEII gave them both one year to experience those effects, before they made their final decision. Despite the consequences, after one year both the former royal and his wife decided on a permanent end to their roles as working royals.The notion that the royal family wants the former prince and his wife back, and so very badly, that they will interfere with RAVEC, is both laughable and insulting. The royal family is counting its blessings, that the former prince and his wife are no longer part of the royal machine, allegedly causing problems, spying, writing diaries, taking photographs, recording conversations, leaking information, upsetting staff, breaking rules, and allegedly trying to destroy a 1,000 year old institution from within.The former prince is again apparently talking to reporters, from publications including the Telegraph and People Magazine, after court hearings and submissions have ended and while the Judges are considering their judgments. He suggests in a self-serving comment that certain information that has been kept in-camera and not released for security reasons, is information that is in his favour. He is reported to have said "People would be shocked by what's being held back". This is making public comments while a judgment is pending, and could be seen as an attempt to influence the judges into ruling in his favour, after official hearings into his law suit have ended, and after all submissions have been made by both sides.Yet again, his family is the target in his sights. He has previously suggested it is his father The King's fault for not pulling strings to influence government bodies outside of his constitutional authority. And again, he is publicly criticising his family, saying they are all plotting against him and his wife, to force them back, presumably into being working members of the royal family. The disloyalty and lack of discretion is astounding.If the royal family ever had any doubts, or felt any pangs of remorse over the former royal leaving, these comments should reassure them that they should thank heaven the pair is not longer given access to the inner workings of the firm.Long Live The King. post link: https://ift.tt/FZDzLER author: Winter-South-7448 submitted: April 12, 2025 at 01:02AM via SaintMeghanMarkle on Reddit disclaimer: all views + opinions expressed by the author of this post, as well as any comments and reblogs, are solely the author's own; they do not necessarily reflect the views of the administrator of this Tumblr blog. For entertainment only.

[mariacallous]

“Denmark, Holland, Belgium, Luxembourg, France, Italy, and Western Germany should form one federated state. To help this America could afford to spend a lot, because we’d get something successful, strong, sturdy. But the [European] politicos throw up their hands in fright and hopelessness.”

These words come from The Eisenhower Diaries, chapter VII, dealing with the very early days of both NATO and European integration after World War II. The year is 1951—Nov. 24, to be precise. Gen. Dwight D. Eisenhower, America’s Allied war hero, had been sent back to Europe by President Harry S. Truman as NATO supreme allied commander earlier that year. Anyone wondering if there is some truth in U.S. President Donald Trump’s recent remark that the European Union “was formed to screw the United States” should read this diary. It shows how active and keen U.S. leadership was in the early 1950s in shepherding quarrelling European nations into any kind of political agreement, as well as how much money and energy (including despair) the United States spent trying to achieve this rather herculean task. It also illustrates in clear, economic sentences how immense the contrast is between American attitudes toward Europe then and now.

Earlier on that Nov. 24, Eisenhower had met Jean Monnet, the Frenchman who had been one of the architects of the Schuman Declaration proposing to place the coal and steel industries of Europe’s “historic rivals”—France and Germany—under one European, independent authority, so they could not wage war anymore against one another. By the end of 1951, Monnet was on his way to presiding over this High Authority of the European Coal and Steel Community, implementing the plan. He had come to see Eisenhower because he was worried that continued European bickering would endanger two more ambitious plans in the pipeline—a political union and a European army—and asked the general for his support during an upcoming summit meeting of Western Europe’s leaders.

Imagine this today: a European asking for American blessing of a more federal Europe. And getting it, because after their conversation, Eisenhower wrote: “Since I believe implicitly in the idea, I shall do so, even if some of the politicos present resent my intrusion into their field. America has spent billions in ECA [the Economic Cooperation Administration, set up to administer the Marshall Plan] and is spending more billions in MDAP [Military Defense Assistance Plan] and much of it will be sheer waste unless Europe coalesces.”

Trump doubtless has no desire to read The Eisenhower Diaries. Facts do not seem to interest him, especially if they prove his narrative wrong. But for Europeans, the book is highly recommended right now. Sometimes, looking at the past makes us more clear-eyed about the present. The book shows how, under rather similar circumstances—a substantial security threat from Moscow—the United States was doing everything it could at the time to get European integration off the ground and foster it, whereas today it is unsupportive and often outright hostile.

For example, the Heritage Foundation—the organization that composed the radical Project 2025 plan for Trump’s second administration—convened a meeting on March 11 with several American Euroskeptic groups, where they discussed the best way to bulldoze the EU. On the basis of a working paper titled “The Great Reset: Restoring Member State Sovereignty in the European Union,” participants examined the possible dismantling of the European Commission and the European Court of Justice.

According to the paper, the EU is “evolving into a quasi-federal state, limiting national decision-making power” and is imposing “ideologically motivated policies on member states, without any mandate.” Under the plan, the EU should cease to function in its current guise, and be changed to a loose body for intergovernmental cooperation of limited scope called the European Community of Nations.

The plan is puzzling, because the 27 member states have never been so powerful in decision-making in Brussels as now. Not only are they the ones who decide on each new European policy step—from a European energy policy to the recent ReArm Europe plan financing and boosting Europe’s defense industry—they also actively steer its implementation as never before. Moreover, Europe is becoming more intergovernmental. For instance, the European Parliament, which has proved to be a formidable counterforce against the member states, is increasingly sidelined by the 27 capitals.

But the larger point is, of course, that the Heritage paper serves as an example of how futile eight decades of trans-Atlantic closeness seems to have become for the current U.S. administration. In the span of just a few weeks, Washington has managed to damage a relationship that was politically, economically, and culturally strong enough to survive frequent difficulties and clashes since the end of World War II. But while disagreements over NATO missiles or the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq were deep, they never broke the relationship. With Trump in the White House, a breakup could happen any day. Trump’s hatred of Europe is unparalleled.

During Trump’s first presidency, European leaders did not believe it could ever come to this. That changed in February, after U.S. Vice President J.D. Vance’s blistering attack on Europe’s values at the Munich Security Conference, and Trump’s brutal dressing-down of Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky in the Oval Office. Both incidents caused a huge shock in Europe. According to an opinion poll for the French online magazine Le Grand Continent, only 9 percent of Europeans in nine EU member states call Trump a friend of Europe (and 51 percent call him an enemy). A high EU official told me privately: “Trump’s plan is to destroy the EU.”

Trump refuses to meet EU leaders, preferring to do business only with national leaders of European countries to try to pit one against the other. His administration nurtures warm ties, however, with the pro-Russian, Euroskeptic, Trumpian far right all over Europe. Contrast this with Eisenhower’s frank admission in his diary on June 11, 1951: “I am coming to believe that Europe’s security problem is never going to be solved satisfactorily until there exists a United States of Europe.” According to Eisenhower, this “United States of Europe” needed to have a single government that put the common interest first: “I think that the real and bitter problems of today would instantly come within the limits of capabilities in solving them, if we had this single government.”

No one knows what Eisenhower would advise European governments to do if he were still alive today. But it seems like Europe is closer to having this single European government than in his time, and Eisenhower would most probably have applauded it. Like many Europeans, he would have been shocked by the Trump administration’s attacks on the rule of law. With Trump dismantling the independent judiciary, bullying independent media, and leaving billionaire oligarchs to supervise their own companies, Vance has identified European values as the main obstacle to the Western world.

Many Europeans proudly want to pick up the gauntlet, push back against this, and try to uphold the respect for democracy and the rule of law that once made the West so powerful. Eisenhower often remarked in his diary that his European interlocutors were unsure and did not believe in themselves. He would have been content to see what the main effect is of Trump’s hostility, at least so far: a tendency to build a stronger Europe capable of believing in itself and standing up for itself.

He told them this so many times. In his diary, on Dec. 21, 1951, he explained why a stronger, more confident Europe was important. Today, those words still ring awfully true. This is how he put it: “A more politically unified Western Europe is essential to the welfare and security of the free world.”

[ruzzellgoldgrin]

DWC May 2025

Day 6 Negative/Relic

Ruzzell hesitates for a moment, unsure if this is a wise decision. He's made many questionable choices before, but this... this was harder for him, given the circumstances.

"You uh... you sure this is secure? I mean, this ain't some ordinary object I need stowed away. It's supernatural in nature. Potentially cursed, now that I think of it..." The bank teller lets out a dismissive chuckle and waves his hand as the two walk towards the vault. "You ain't got nothin' to worry about Mr. Goldgrin! Ratchet has the most secure banking system this side of The Maelstrom. Storage of demonic artifacts is an everyday transaction! Besides, with our new Ethereal brokers, our coffers are more secure than ever!" The goblin neatens his silk vest as he addresses the ogres standing guard by the massive vault hatch. "Boys, if you would!" The ogres take a moment to realize they were being asked to open the vault.

"Doh! Sorries boss!" The massive duo grip at opposite ends of the heavy door, hauling and shoving against the handles as the solid gears began to move, slowly opening the interior. Ruzzell and the teller step on inside, their shoes echoing in the reinforced vault. Overhead lights flicker on, illuminating the brass-finished Elementium walls, hundreds of lockboxes lining from the ground floor up to the ceiling. An inactive golem of Dark Iron craftsmanship stands sentry in the middle of the room, twin cannons on each arm, ready to meet any would-be intruder. The teller walks to a table, a holocrate left open on display. "This right here is a top-of-the-line Holocrate! Designed by Silvermoon's greatest Artificers, powered by Nethergon manacells in a Khorium lattice, it is rated to withstand up to 7 Theramore-leveling Manabombs!"

Ruzzell pauses once more, gripping the torch in his hand. He brandishes the grip and lifts it aloft, the cold azure flame at its end burning brightly. His eyes linger on the magical fire as he considers things. "But is that enough?..." Uncertainty filled his concerns. This weapon had been with him for over a decade now and has seen him through a hundred conflicts, some otherwise impossible to overcome had he not had this magical artifact. "This torch it... It's drenched in the essence of a Daemon. That is 'Daemon', not a demon. This is something more magical. Maybe from The Shadowlands, I... don't really know." Sweat begins to bead up on his brow upon recalling the day he banished that otherworldly entity in Silvermoon all those years ago. What remained of that 'thing' resided in that torch. A weapon he had thought was a blessing to fight off magical entities, its fire only growing stronger over time as he defeated more foes. The teller smiled confidently, though whether is was for show or cetainty was unknown. He pats Ruzzell's shoulder assuringly. "Like I said, we deal with magical artifacts all the time! Runestones, arcane crystals, manawards, soulstones, demonic sigils, even relics of The Shadowlands, Mr. Goldgrin! Your torch there is in excellent care with us!" He sees the goblin was still unconviced. A purse of his lips, he withdraws his hand and stands up tall and snaps his finger. "Affar, my colleague, would you please join us?"

The air grows cold as a warp of shimmering void energy materializes before then. Out steps a mirrage of after-images of a lithe Ethereal, its footfalls non-existant as it mimics the movements of a more corporeal being. "Greetings and salutations. We at The Consortium are most gracious with our partnership with The Bank of Ratchet and as a representative of our organization, I can assure you that your artifact will be safer than ever in our affiliated care." Ruzzell looks up to the Ethereal, his hairs standing on end. A stroke of confidence was shared with the broker, knowing far more how rigid their contingencies were regarding such wardings. "Alright... Can we keep this in Void Storage then. I need to make sure that Mazzon can never fall into the wrong hands..." The vaporized entity glides towards the Holocrate, lifting it up into the air by unknown means and offers it towards the goblin. "My friend, you will find no safer storage than within this box, and no more secure vault than within our Void Storage."

The bite of the otherworld cold coming from his torch would chill his hands numb, as if in protest to being locked away. This was the assurance he needed to accept the deal. "Yeah, alright then." He extends the haunted torch and drops it into the Holocrate, the item suspended in the interior as Affar waves his hands over the lock, sealing the relic away. The broker then manifests another void portal, and away the Holocrate vanishes into the darkness of the inner dimensions. "A most gracious transaction, my friend. Our affiliate here will handle the closing of your deposit and facilitate withdrawls should you need it once more. We would bid you now warmest farewells..." With a gracious bow, the phantasmal broker would fade away into the air, leaving behind the scent of ozone in his wake. The teller turns to grin brightly at Ruzzell and pat his shoulder once more escorting him out of the vault. "No worries at all Mr. Goldgrin! Your weapon is in good hands with us! Now then, to close out our deal I'll just need you to sign off on this document and..."

Ruzzell tries to have peace of mind after his deposit, but he can't help but wonder if this was yet another wise decision he has made.

( @daily-writing-challenge )

[orthodoxydaily]

SAINTS&READING: THURSDAY, MARCH 27, 2025

Fourth Week of the Great Lent: Adoration of Cross. By Monastic Charter: Food without Oil

SAINT BENEDICT OF NURSIA, ABBOT (543) 

Saint Benedict, founder of Western monasticism, was born in the Italian city of Nursia in the year 480. When he was fourteen years of age, the saint’s parents sent him to Rome to study. Unsettled by the immorality around him, he decided to devote himself to a different sort of life.

At first Saint Benedict settled near the church of the holy Apostle Peter in the village of Effedum, but news of his ascetic life compelled him to go farther into the mountains. There he encountered the hermit Romanus, who tonsured him into monasticism and directed him to live in a remote cave at Subiaco. From time to time, the hermit would bring him food.

For three years the saint waged a harsh struggle with temptations and conquered them. People soon began to gather to him, thirsting to live under his guidance. The number of disciples grew so much, that the saint divided them into twelve communities. Each community was comprised of twelve monks and was a separate skete. The saint gave each skete an igumen from among his experienced disciples, and only the novice monks remained with Saint Benedict for instruction.

The strict monastic Rule Saint Benedict established for the monks was not accepted by everyone, and more than once he was criticized and abused by dissenters.

Finally he settled in Campagna and on Mount Cassino he founded the Monte Cassino monastery, which for a long time was a center of theological education for the Western Church. The monastery possessed a remarkable library. Saint Benedict wrote his Rule, based on the experience of life of the Eastern desert-dwellers and the precepts of Saint John Cassian the Roman (February 29).

The Rule of Saint Benedict dominated Western monasticism for centuries (by the year 1595 it had appeared in more than 100 editions). The Rule prescribed the renunciation of personal possessions, as well as unconditional obedience, and constant work. It was considered the duty of older monks to teach the younger and to copy ancient manuscripts. This helped to preserve many memorable writings from the first centuries of Christianity.

Every new monk was required to live as a novice for a year, to learn the monastic Rule and to become acclimated to monastic life. Every deed required a blessing. The head of this cenobitic monastery is the igumen. He discerns, teaches, and explains. The igumen solicits the advice of the older, experienced brethren, but he makes the final decisions. Keeping the monastic Rule was strictly binding for everyone and was regarded as an important step on the way to perfection.

Saint Benedict was granted by the Lord the gift of foresight and wonderworking. He healed many by his prayers. The monk foretold the day of his death in 547. The main source for his Life is the second Dialogue of Saint Gregory.

Saint Benedict’s sister, Saint Scholastica (February 10), also became famous for her strict ascetic life and was numbered among the saints.

SAINT ROSTILAV-MICHAEL PRINCE OF KIEV (1167)

Saint Rostislav-Michael, Great Prince of Kiev, was the son of the Kievan Great Prince Saint Mstislav the Great (June 14), and the brother of holy Prince Vsevolod-Gabriel (February 11, April 22, and November 27). He was one of the great civil and churchly figures of the mid-twelfth century.

His name is connected with the fortification and rise of Smolensk, and both the Smolensk principality and the Smolensk diocese.

Up until the twelfth century the Smolensk land was part of the Kievan realm. The beginning of its political separation took place in the year 1125, when holy Prince Mstislav the Great, gave Smolensk to his son Rostislav (in Baptism Michael) as an inheritance from his father, the Kievan Great Prince Vladimir Monomakh. Thanks to the work and efforts of Saint Rostislav, the Smolensk principality, which he ruled for more than forty years, expanded and was built up with cities and villages, adorned with churches and monasteries, and became influential in Russian affairs.

Saint Rostislav founded the cities of Rostislavl, Mstislavl, Krichev, Propoisk, and Vasiliev among others. He was the forefather of the Smolensk princely dynasty.

In 1136 Saint Rostislav succeeded in establishing a separate Smolensk diocese. Its first bishop was Manuel, installed between March-May of 1136 by Metropolitan Michael of Kiev. Prince Rostislav issued an edict in the city of Smolensk assuring Bishop Manuel that he would provide him with whatever he needed. On September 30, 1150 Saint Rostislav also ceded Cathedral Hill at Smolensk to the Smolensk diocese, where the Dormition cathedral and other diocesan buildings stood.

Contemporaries thought highly of the church construction of Prince Rostislav. Even the sources that are inclined to report nothing more about it note that “this prince built the church of the Theotokos at Smolensk.” The Dormition cathedral, originally built by his grandfather, Vladimir Monomakh, in the year 1101 was rebuilt and expanded under Prince Rostislav. The rebuilt cathedral was consecrated by Bishop Manuel on the Feast of the Dormition, August 15, 1150. Prince Rostislav was a “builder of the Church” in a far wider sense: he endowed the Smolensk Dormition church of the Mother of God, and transformed it from a city cathedral into the ecclesiastical center of the vast Smolensk diocese.

Holy Prince Rostislav was the builder of the Smolensk Kremlin, and of the Savior cathedral at the Smyadynsk Boris and Gleb monastery, founded on the place of the murder of holy Prince Gleb (September 5). Later his son David, possibly fulfilling the wishes of his father, transferred the old wooden coffins of Saints Boris and Gleb from Kievan Vyshgorod to Smyadyn.

In the decade of the fifties of the twelfth century, Saint Rostislav was drawn into a prolonged struggle for Kiev, which involved representatives of the two strongest princely lines: the Olgovichi and the Monomakhovichi.

On the Monomakhovichi side the major contender to be Great Prince was Rostislav’s uncle, Yurii Dolgoruky. Rostislav, as Prince of Smolensk, was one of the most powerful rulers of the Russian land and had a decisive voice in military and diplomatic negotiations.

For everyone involved in the dispute, Rostislav was both a dangerous opponent and a desired ally, and he was at the center of events. This had a providential significance, since Saint Rostislav distinguished himself by his wisdom regarding the civil realm, by his strict sense of justice and unconditional obedience to elders, and by his deep respect for the Church and its hierarchy. For several generations he was the bearer of the “Russkaya Pravda” (“Russian Truth”) and of Russian propriety.

After the death of his brother Izyaslav (November 13, 1154), Saint Rostislav became Great Prince of Kiev, but he ruled Kiev at the same time with his uncle Vyacheslav Vladimirovich. After the latter’s death, Rostislav returned to Smolensk, ceding the Kiev princedom to his other uncle, Yurii Dolgoruky, and he removed himself from the bloodshed of the princely disputes. He occupied Kiev a second time on April 12, 1159 and he then remained Great Prince until his death (+ 1167). More than once, he had to defend his paternal inheritance with sword in hand.

The years of Saint Rostislav’s rule occurred during one of the most complicated periods in the history of the Russian Church. The elder brother of Rostislav, Izyaslav Mstislavich, a proponent of the autocephaly of the Russian Church, favored the erudite Russian monk Clement Smolyatich for Metropolitan, and wanted him to be made Metropolitan by a council of Russian bishops, without seeking the usual approval from the Patriarch of Constantinople. This occurred in the year 1147.

The Russian hierarchy basically supported Metropolitan Clement and Prince Izyaslav in their struggle for ecclesiastical independence from Constantinople, but several bishops headed by Saint Niphon of Novgorod (April 8), did not recognize the autocephaly of the Russian metropolitanate and shunned communion with it, having transformed their dioceses into independent ecclesial districts, pending the resolution of this question. Bishop Manuel of Smolensk also followed this course. Saint Rostislav understood the danger which lay hidden beneath the idea of Russian autocephaly for these times, which threatened the break-up of Rus. The constant fighting over Kiev among the princes might also lead to a similar fight over the Kievan See among numerous contenders, put forth by one princely group or another.

The premonitions of Saint Rostislav were fully justified. Yurii Dolgoruky, who remained loyal to Constantinople, occupied Kiev in the year 1154. He immediately banished Metropolitan Clement and petitioned Constantinople for a new Metropolitan. This was to be Saint Constantine (June 5), but he arrived in Rus only in the year 1156, six months before the death of Yurii Dolgoruky (+ May 15, 1157). Six months later, when Saint Rostislav’s nephew Mstislav Izyaslavich entered the city on December 22, 1157, Saint Constanine was obliged to flee Kiev, while the deposed Clement Smolyatich returned as Metropolitan. Then a time of disorder began in Russia, for there were two Metropolitans.

All the hierarchy and the clergy came under interdict: the Greek Metropolitan suspended the Russian supporters of Clement, and Clement suspended all the supporters of Constantine. To halt the scandal, Saint Rostislav and Mstislav decided to remove both Metropolitans and petition the Patriarch of Constantinople to appoint a new archpastor for the Russian metropolitan See.

But this compromise did not end the matter. Arriving in Kiev in the autumn of 1161, Metropolitan Theodore died in spring of the following year. Following the example of Saint Andrew Bogoliubsky (July 4), who supported his own fellow ascetic Bishop Theodore to be Metropolitan, Saint Rostislav put forth his own candidate, who turned out to be the much-suffering Clement Smolyatich.

The fact that the Great Prince had changed his attitude toward Metropolitan Clement, shows the influence of the Kiev Caves monastery, and in particular of Archimandrite Polycarp. Archimandrite Polycarp, who followed the traditions of the Caves (in 1165 he became head of the monastery), was personally very close to Saint Rostislav.

Saint Rostislav had the pious custom of inviting the igumen and twelve monks to his own table on the Saturdays and Sundays of Great Lent, and he served them himself. The prince more than once expressed the wish to be tonsured a monk at the monastery of Saints Anthony and Theodosius, and he even gave orders to build a cell for him.

The monks of the Caves, a tremendous spiritual influence in ancient Rus, encouraged the prince to think about the independence of the Russian Church. Moreover, during those years in Rus, there was suspicion regarding the Orthodoxy of the bishops which came from among the Greeks, because of the notorious “Dispute about the Fasts” (the “Leontian Heresy”). Saint Rostislav’s pious intent to obtain the blessing of the Patriarch of Constantinople for Metropolitan Clement came to naught. The Greeks believed that appointing a Metropolitan to the Kiev cathedra was one of their most important prerogatives. This served not only the ecclesiastical, but also the political interests of the Byzantine Empire.

In 1165 a new Greek Metropolitan arrived at Kiev, John IV, and Saint Rostislav accepted him out of humility and churchly obedience. The new Metropolitan, like his predecessor, governed the Russian Church for less than a year (+ 1166). The See of Kiev was again left vacant, and the Great Prince was deprived of the fatherly counsel and spiritual wisdom of a Metropolitan. His sole spiritual solace was the igumen Polycarp and the holy Elders of the Kiev Caves monastery and the Theodorov monastery at Kiev, which had been founded under his father.

Returning from a campaign against Novgorod in the spring of 1167, Saint Rostislav fell ill. When he reached Smolensk, where his son Roman was prince, relatives urged him to remain at Smolensk. But the Great Prince gave orders to take him to Kiev. “If I die along the way,” he declared, “put me in my father’s monastery of Saint Theodore. If God should heal me, through the prayers of His All-Pure Mother and Saint Theodosius, I shall take vows at the monastery of the Caves.”

God did not fulfill Saint Rostislav’s last wish to end his life as a monk of the holy monastery. The holy prince died on the way to Kiev on March 14, 1167. (In other historical sources the year is given as 1168). His body, in accord with his last wishes, was brought to the Kiev Theodosiev monastery.

Source: Orthodox Church in America_OCA

Isaiah 28:14-22

14 Therefore hear the word of the Lord, you scornful men, Who rule this people who are in Jerusalem, 15 Because you have said, “We have made a covenant with death, And with Sheol we are in agreement. When the overflowing scourge passes through, It will not come to us, For we have made lies our refuge, And under falsehood we have hidden ourselves.” 16 Therefore thus says the Lord God: “Behold, I lay in Zion a stone for a foundation, A tried stone, a precious cornerstone, a sure foundation; Whoever believes will not act hastily. 17 Also I will make justice the measuring line, And righteousness the plummet; The hail will sweep away the refuge of lies, And the waters will overflow the hiding place. 18 Your covenant with death will be annulled, And your agreement with Sheol will not stand; When the overflowing scourge passes through, Then you will be trampled down by it. 19 As often as it goes out it will take you; For morning by morning it will pass over, And by day and by night; It will be a terror just to understand the report.” 20 For the bed is too short to stretch out on, And the covering so narrow that one cannot wrap himself in it. 21 For the Lord will rise up as at Mount Perazim, He will be angry as in the Valley of Gibeon— That He may do His work, His awesome work, And bring to pass His act, His unusual act. 22 Now therefore, do not be mockers, Lest your bonds be made strong; For I have heard from the Lord God of hosts, A destruction determined even upon the whole earth.

Proverbs 13:19-14:6

19A desire accomplished is sweet to the soul, But it is an abomination to fools to depart from evil. 20 He who walks with wise men will be wise, But the companion of fools will be destroyed. 21 Evil pursues sinners, But to the righteous, good shall be repaid. 22 A good man leaves an inheritance to his children’s children, But the wealth of the sinner is stored up for the righteous. 23 Much food is in the fallow ground of the poor, And for lack of justice there is waste. 24 He who spares his rod hates his son, But he who loves him disciplines him promptly. 25 The righteous eats to the satisfying of his soul, But the stomach of the wicked shall be in want.

1 The wise woman builds her house, But the foolish pulls it down with her hands. 2 He who walks in his uprightness fears the Lord, But he who is perverse in his ways despises Him. 3 In the mouth of a fool is a rod of pride, But the lips of the wise will preserve them. 4 Where no oxen are, the trough is clean; But much increase comes by the strength of an ox. 5 A faithful witness does not lie, But a false witness will utter lies. 6 A scoffer seeks wisdom and does not find it, But knowledge is easy to him who understands.

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Ahmed Baba:

In his first two weeks back in office, President Trump’s “flood the zone” tactic is in full swing—this time, with the world’s richest man as his accomplice in chaos. The Trump Administration is moving with lightning speed to pursue its far-right agenda via executive order and test the bounds of executive power, seeking to unilaterally seize the power of the purse away from Congress. These moves have run into some early setbacks, with actions like Trump’s federal funding freeze facing legal roadblocks. As we sift through the torrent of actions, one developing dynamic that has yet to be halted is the increasingly dangerous, full-frontal assault on the federal bureaucracy led by Elon Musk. Elon Musk and his team of young engineers have taken over the US Digital Service and renamed it DOGE (Department of Government Efficiency). DOGE has been moving from agency to agency, freezing funds, gaining access to sensitive data, and putting civil servants who stand in their way on leave. They’re also seeking to outright dismantle agencies, which is blatantly unlawful. These moves apparently have President Trump’s full blessing. In the Oval Office on Monday, President Trump told reporters that “Elon can’t do, and won’t do anything, without our approval. And we’ll give him the approval where appropriate. Where not appropriate, we won’t.” The White House later said that Musk is a “special government employee,” which could cause Musk to run afoul of conflict-of-interest laws.

Musk, an unelected billionaire whose companies directly benefit from billions in federal contracts, has been given unchecked power over the federal government that regulates his own companies.

[...] DOGE has targeted the United States Agency for International Development (USAID), freezing funds and seeking to outright dismantle it. DOGE has forced its way into accessing the Treasury Department’s payment systems. DOGE has taken root in the Office of Personnel Management (OPM) and made moves to push out career civil servants throughout the government. DOGE has its eyes on canceling leases of federal offices managed by the General Services Administration (GSA). The Department of Education is reportedly next on Musk’s list, with the Trump Administration reportedly drafting an executive order to shut down the department. All of this is directly in line with Project 2025’s core objectives, which many of us spent the past year warning about. Unilateral attempts to dismantle agencies are unlawful, and accessing sensitive data without proper security clearances could violate privacy laws. Lawsuits have already begun to fly, and Democratic lawmakers have been making a lot of noise and seeking new ways to express opposition.

[...]

Why Are They Doing This?

One of the core goals of the modern right-wing movement and Project 2025 is to cripple the federal bureaucracy and to reshape the federal government into a tool of the far-right. President Trump wants to expand executive power. As I’ve written about extensively, Trump is testing the boundaries of the law and this Supreme Court’s appetite for further expanding executive power. After the Supreme Court’s shocking immunity decision, the Trump Administration is likely seeking a further expansion of executive power greenlit by its right-wing justices. Given the Supreme Court’s clear openness to the unitary executive theory, Trump wants to see how much they will let him get away with. For example, if Trump and Musk are allowed to unilaterally dismantle the USAID, they could use that as a precedent to dismantle the other agencies they want to. This would spark a constitutional crisis, as the executive branch takes over a key power from the legislative branch. When it comes to Elon Musk specifically, he benefits from a government that can’t effectively regulate his companies, but it’s more than that. Musk is more than a mere oligarch right now. He’s operating effectively as a co-president. Elon Musk finally has the power he has always wanted. Born in South Africa, Musk is ineligible to run for president. But now, even while unelected, he has been given near-unilateral control over federal agencies. He is totally unaccountable to voters. And congressional Republicans, who hold the majority in the Senate and House, have shown little appetite for retaking their constitutional authority. We’ll see how long Trump tolerates sharing the attention with Musk. Two egos this big can’t work in tandem forever. The power dynamics will eventually run into friction. Until then, it’ll be up to the courts to stop this madness.

The Musk Coup has negatively impacted federal agencies and their employees.

See Also:

The Status Kuo (Jay Kuo): Can Musk Be Stopped?

[emilydorp]

Idk, I feel too sad right now and I doesn't know who should I rant to. Gd seem sad at recent concert while talking about bigbang anniversary, and while he sing home sweet home at the lyrics 'it so nice missed you a lot, you are welcome back wherever you are' but he point toward fans. Idk I never see ji doing that while performing HSH. I pray for Seunghyun to return for him to open his heart. Please return even for one year or even for 6 month to bigbang to ji. I beg so much. Even there are time I really feel want to blame seunghyun and I instantly feel regret and guilty. Since 2017 to 2025, it a long time have passed, a long time for him to heal and return. What I feel can't compare for what he have been through. He alone return, without yg, without support from media side, and without his member (I remember during sh movie project, how they cheer him) and it not something easy. After what that industry do to him especially toward his mom and when he at hospital. And now he return with smile, slow but steady. I tear up when fans wait him at airport after he return from LA. There are video where fans say oppa we miss you and TOP give mini heart and they crying, and I also crying. Looking how he make sure to get letter from fans. Damn it why I join this angst fandom.

Sorry, it have been long rant from me. It just painful for me. I want that reunion so much. But who I am, who fans, who anyone to make decision for TOP. He gave so many people happiness and inspiration while active, so much happiness and strength for bigbang itself. That the void he left, each year passed become painful to me but maybe it the best for him. He more happy than it nothing matter. Damn it, I never tear up for any other group. Have stan so many group but bigbang truly difference. Tq, it okay if you don't reply to this. And thank you for make this blog. This blog soothing me so much. May blessing follow you.~

Hi, dw, feel free to send messages! Also no way I could just not respond, you were too sweet, I had no choice.

Well, I wouldn’t immediately be making up my mind on why he pointed at the crowd, if I did, I’d have to make a point of every single time he pointed at the sky, it could be anything :)) We’ll have to wait and see, since I doubt that Ji would play with the emotions of his fans..

He did still wear clothes that resembled Tabi again, so he’s still sending signs (I haven’t been through all the footage tho, maybe there’s more). BB means more to him than it means to anyone else, his tears could represent either sorry or joy, just like our tears are bittersweet because of how deeply we care about BB. We’re all holding our breath and being angsty, and Ji is allowed to express those emotions as well :)) He liked a post that was melancholy, but definitely not depressing, so that reflects Ji’s feelings as of right now, I believe. Patience is importance in such situations anony :D

Seunghyun is very very strong, and we’re all proud of him, healing and recovering takes a lot of time and effort. Nobody blames him for anything, not even Jiyong, so let’s cheer him on wherever he goes! I’m sure that Tabi loves Ji, even without any shipper glasses on, and he will communicate with Jiyong about what he feels for BB. There is no way you’d ever leave someone you’ve known for years in the dark. Not to mention him slowly unblocking OT4 fans :)) I am sure that Tabi is ready to share his music and personality with fans again, and that alone is such a blessing, and we’ll have to wait and see whether or not he’s ready to return as a member of BB. Either way, we’re good anony, always. ^3^

((In our defence, this wasn’t always an angsty fandom, we just decided to keep our promise of staying till whenever, and that has its consequences ToT)).

[graveyardmuse]

KENNY WEEK 2025 DAY ONE: IS YOUR DIGNITY ONLY WORTH FIFTY DOLLARS?

prompt: rivalry ship: kenny mccormick/rhiannon moore word count: five hundred rating: teen and up audiences warnings: n/a summary: the one where rhiannon may or may not be an idiot, and kenny takes full advantage of that by baiting her into taking on a challenge she's certain to lose. read it on ao3 here. author's note: i got a late start because i was nervous about sharing canon x oc stuff for this event, but i'm hoping to catch up on prompts over the next couple of days! the art in my event banner is from this piece by mmantequilla.

Okay, so here’s the problem: Rhiannon doesn’t know the first thing about Magic the Gathering. The solution, of course, would be to admit defeat for once in her life, but she’s not particularly good at that, either— you don’t wind up a king by backing down from a fight, and she’s got some kind of horrible complex where that cardboard crown that hasn’t fit on her head in six years is still worth its weight in gold to her.

Gunning for the Tournament of Champions was a bad idea. A terrible impulse decision of the highest regard, and yet, she’d managed to charm and bullshit and flounder her way into the semi-finals.

So here she is, five weeks of her life, three training sessions with Nichole, and what feels like a million frantic Reddit searches after this whole mess got started, sitting at a rickety folding table in the back room of the comic shop and trying not to break into a nervous sweat as Kenny stares her down.

She can only pray he’ll make her decimation quick, because there’s no way she’s not well and truly fucked.

First of all, he’s the best player in this room by far, and has been since they were kids. Second, he knows her better than she knows herself, which means it’s pretty much a given that he’s fully aware she has no idea what she’s doing.

Third of all, and this one’s the real kicker: it’s his fault that she’s in this disaster in the first place. The bastard knew easy money when he saw it, god bless him, and “I bet you fifty dollars you won’t make it to the finals” had turned into the most epic display of failing upwards to ever grace their quiet little town since the last time anyone gave a shit about little league baseball real fucking fast.

God, she wants to hate him for this one. Too bad he’s so damn unhateable, even with that smug little smile on his face.

“You know you can forfeit at any point, right? Just something to keep in mind.”

“Kenny, from the bottom of my heart: please go fuck yourself.”

“Only if you watch, babe.”

Never mind, he’s the most loathsome man on the planet. She hopes he stubs his toe on every table leg he comes across for the rest of eternity.

As predicted, her demise is a quick, nearly painless one— he doesn’t want her to publicly suffer that much, it seems. Just enough to earn his fifty dollars, and he definitely does.

It’s not until they’re outside of the shop and he’s got a hand out, waiting expectantly for the cash, that she finally explodes.

Or, well, she tries to explode. Alas, she’s too busy laughing and shoving a fistful of crumpled twenties into his hand to convince anyone that she’s actually mad.

“You suck, you know that? You’re the worst.”

“So I’ve heard,” he replies with a dry smile. “C’mon, I’ll buy you lunch.”

[demifiendrsa]

Fatal Fury: City of the Wolves｜Announcement Trailer #2

B. Jenet Character Trailer (English version)

B. Jenet Character Trailer (Japanese version)

Vox Reaper Character Trailer (English version)

Vox Reaper Character Trailer (Japanese version)

Key visual

Screenshots

Latest details

About the Game

SNK’s beloved Fatal Fury series first hit the market in 1991, spearheading the fighting game boom of the 1990s that swept the industry thereafter. Garou: Mark of the Wolves (released in 1999) has, for some time, served as the franchise’s most recent installment. But that is all about to change: 26 years on, a brand-new entry—Fatal Fury: City of the Wolves—is set to arrive on the scene!

Fatal Fury: City of the Wolves features a unique art style that stimulates the senses, an innovative REV system that supercharges the excitement, plus a host of other battle systems even more robust than before. The game also breathes new life into the series by introducing two distinct control schemes (ensuring fun and excitement for newcomers and veterans alike) as well as other fresh features and elements.

The streets of South Town are a hotbed of action, wild dreams, and even wilder ambition. Here, at long last, a new legend is about to unfold…

New Characters

Vox Reaper (voiced by Erik Ransom in English, Toshiyuki Toyonaga in Japanese) – This street assassin is dispatched to hunt down and eliminate Kain R. Heinlein. Though the attempt was thwarted, he emerges from the encounter hardly worse for wear. Kain’s bodyguard Grant, having realized the youth’s talent and potential, decides to take him under his wing thereafter. Afforded a new lease on life, and intent on fulfilling his dying master’s wishes (not to mention Kain’s own grandiose ambitions), Vox stalks the bloody battleground that is South Town—a demon reborn.

B. Jenet (voiced by Amber Lee Connors in English, Mikako Komatsu in Japanese) – Captain of the Lilien Knights, a crew of virtuous pirates, B. Jenet makes an altogether uncharacteristic decision. With Kain and Grant weighing on her mind during and after the events of the previous tournament, she chooses to stay in South Town, if not for a short while. Strangely unable to express her lingering thoughts out loud, she sees the upcoming KOF tournament as a true blessing in disguise: a chance to speak through action instead of words!

Fatal Fury: City of the Wolves will launch in early 2025 for unannounced platforms.

[satoshi-mochida]

Fatal Fury: City of the Wolves adds B. Jenet and Vox Reaper; confirmed for PS5, PS4, Xbox Series, and PC - Gematsu

Fatal Fury: City of the Wolves will be available for PlayStation 5, PlayStation 4, Xbox Series, and PC via Steam and Epic Games Store when it launches in early 2025, SNK announced. The company also confirmed B. Jenet and Vox Reaper as playable characters.

Here is an overview of the game and latest characters, via SNK:

About the Game

SNK’s beloved Fatal Fury series first hit the market in 1991, spearheading the fighting game boom of the 1990s that swept the industry thereafter. Garou: Mark of the Wolves (released in 1999) has, for some time, served as the franchise’s most recent installment. But that is all about to change: 26 years on, a brand-new entry—Fatal Fury: City of the Wolves—is set to arrive on the scene! Fatal Fury: City of the Wolves features a unique art style that stimulates the senses, an innovative REV system that supercharges the excitement, plus a host of other battle systems even more robust than before. The game also breathes new life into the series by introducing two distinct control schemes (ensuring fun and excitement for newcomers and veterans alike) as well as other fresh features and elements. The streets of South Town are a hotbed of action, wild dreams, and even wilder ambition. Here, at long last, a new legend is about to unfold…

New Characters

Vox Reaper (voiced by Erik Ransom in English, Toshiyuki Toyonaga in Japanese) – This street assassin is dispatched to hunt down and eliminate Kain R. Heinlein. Though the attempt was thwarted, he emerges from the encounter hardly worse for wear. Kain’s bodyguard Grant, having realized the youth’s talent and potential, decides to take him under his wing thereafter. Afforded a new lease on life, and intent on fulfilling his dying master’s wishes (not to mention Kain’s own grandiose ambitions), Vox stalks the bloody battleground that is South Town—a demon reborn.

B. Jenet (voiced by Amber Lee Connors in English, Mikako Komatsu in Japanese) – Captain of the Lilien Knights, a crew of virtuous pirates, B. Jenet makes an altogether uncharacteristic decision. With Kain and Grant weighing on her mind during and after the events of the previous tournament, she chooses to stay in South Town, if not for a short while. Strangely unable to express her lingering thoughts out loud, she sees the upcoming KOF tournament as a true blessing in disguise: a chance to speak through action instead of words!

Watch a new set of trailers below. View a new set of screenshots at the gallery.

Announce Trailer #2