#Cloud testing tool

[digy4]

Cloud Testing Tool

If you are seeking a cloud testing tool, then Digy4 is the best option. Our tool enables organizations to run tests on various platforms, devices, and browsers without the need for extensive infrastructure. Ideal for agile teams, our tool ensures your application meets performance standards while providing flexibility and scalability for growth.

[niharikakaushal]

Demystifying Cloud Testing Tools: How They Work and Why They Matter

Introduction

In the rapidly evolving landscape of software development, ensuring the quality and reliability of applications has become paramount. With the emergence of cloud computing, testing methodologies have undergone a significant transformation, ushering in a new era of efficiency and scalability. Cloud testing tool have become indispensable assets for development teams, streamlining the testing process and enhancing overall product quality. In this article, we delve into the mechanics of cloud testing tools, exploring their functionality and significance in today's digital ecosystem.

Understanding Cloud Testing Tools

Cloud testing tools encompass a diverse array of software solutions designed to facilitate the testing of applications and systems within cloud environments. These tools leverage the scalability and flexibility of cloud infrastructure to conduct various types of testing, including performance testing, load testing, and security testing. By harnessing the power of cloud computing, organizations can simulate real-world scenarios, assess system behavior under different conditions, and identify potential vulnerabilities or performance bottlenecks.

The Role of Cloud Testing Automation Tools

Cloud testing automation tools play a pivotal role in accelerating the testing process and improving overall efficiency. These tools automate repetitive tasks such as test case execution, result analysis, and environment setup, freeing up valuable time for QA teams to focus on more strategic aspects of testing. By automating routine tasks, organizations can reduce the risk of human error, ensure consistency in testing procedures, and achieve faster time-to-market for their applications.

Introducing Digy4: A Comprehensive Testing Platform

One notable cloud testing automation tool is Digy4, a comprehensive testing platform that enables organizations to automate their testing workflows and streamline the delivery of high-quality software. Digy4 offers a range of features tailored to the needs of modern development teams, including automated test case generation, intelligent test execution, and actionable insights into test results. By leveraging Digy4's capabilities, organizations can accelerate their testing cycles, improve test coverage, and enhance overall product reliability.

Advantages of Cloud Testing Tools and Automation

Cloud testing tools and automation play a critical role in the software development lifecycle, facilitating continuous integration and delivery practices. By integrating testing into the development process early and often, organizations can detect and address issues more efficiently, minimizing the risk of defects reaching production environments. This shift-left approach to testing enables teams to iterate rapidly, incorporate feedback from users, and deliver value to customers at a faster pace.

Enhanced Collaboration and Visibility

In addition to improving efficiency and agility, cloud testing tools also enhance collaboration and visibility across development teams. By providing centralized access to test artifacts, results, and metrics, these tools foster greater transparency and alignment among stakeholders. Development teams can track the progress of testing activities in real-time, identify areas for improvement, and make data-driven decisions to optimize their testing strategies.

Scalability and Cost-Effectiveness

Furthermore, cloud testing tools offer enhanced scalability and cost-effectiveness compared to traditional on-premises solutions. By leveraging cloud infrastructure, organizations can dynamically allocate resources based on demand, avoiding the need for costly hardware investments and maintenance. This pay-as-you-go model enables organizations to scale their testing efforts according to evolving business needs, maximizing efficiency and minimizing waste.

Conclusion

In conclusion, cloud testing automation tools and automation play a crucial role in modern software development, enabling organizations to deliver high-quality applications at speed and scale. By harnessing the power of cloud computing, teams can streamline their testing workflows, improve collaboration, and enhance overall product reliability. Whether it's performance testing, load testing, or security testing, cloud testing tools provide the flexibility, scalability, and automation capabilities needed to succeed in today's competitive marketplace. With solutions like Digy4 leading the way, organizations can unlock the full potential of cloud testing and drive innovation in their development processes.Demystifying Cloud Testing Tools: How They Work and Why They Matter

[golden42]

Lazy Loading Page Speed Optimization: Efficient Practices & Tips

Key Takeaways

Lazy loading can significantly improve page speed by loading only necessary content initially, reducing initial load times.

Implementing lazy loading can save bandwidth, which is crucial for users on limited data plans.

This technique enhances user experience by ensuring faster interactions and smoother scrolling.

SEO can benefit from lazy loading as search engines prefer faster websites, potentially improving rankings.

To effectively implement lazy loading, use browser-native features and ensure compatibility across different devices.

Enhancing Web Performance with Lazy Loading

In today's fast-paced digital world, web performance is more critical than ever. Slow websites can drive users away, impacting engagement and conversions. One powerful technique to boost performance is lazy loading. By understanding and implementing lazy loading, you can optimize your website's speed and efficiency, keeping your visitors engaged and satisfied.

Understanding the Need for Speed

Users expect websites to load quickly and efficiently.

Slow loading times can lead to higher bounce rates.

Improved speed enhances user satisfaction and retention.

Most importantly, speed is not just a luxury; it's a necessity. Users are increasingly impatient, and a delay of even a few seconds can cause them to abandon your site. Therefore, ensuring that your site loads swiftly is crucial for maintaining user interest and engagement.

Lazy loading offers a solution by optimizing the loading process. Instead of loading every element of a page at once, lazy loading prioritizes essential content and defers non-essential elements. This approach can make a dramatic difference in how quickly your site feels to users.

Lazy Loading: A Game Changer for Web Efficiency

Lazy loading is more than just a buzzword; it's a transformative technique for web optimization. By deferring the loading of non-essential elements, such as images and videos, until they are needed, lazy loading reduces the initial load time of a webpage.

Images and videos load only when they enter the viewport.

Reduces server requests, enhancing page speed.

Particularly beneficial for mobile users with limited bandwidth.

Besides that, lazy loading helps in conserving resources, which is particularly beneficial for mobile users who might be on limited data plans. By only loading what's necessary, users experience faster interactions and smoother scrolling, which can significantly improve their overall experience.

Eager Loading: When Immediate Isn't Ideal

Eager loading, the opposite of lazy loading, involves loading all page elements at once. While this approach might seem straightforward, it can lead to longer initial load times, especially on content-heavy pages. Therefore, eager loading is not always the best choice, particularly when dealing with large images or videos.

Lazy loading, on the other hand, ensures that your website delivers essential content swiftly, making it an ideal choice for optimizing page speed and improving user experience.

Benefits of Lazy Loading

Lazy loading isn't just about speed; it's about creating a seamless and efficient user experience. Let's delve into the various benefits it offers.

Faster Initial Load Times

By loading only the necessary elements initially, lazy loading significantly reduces the time it takes for a page to become interactive. Users can start engaging with the content almost immediately, without waiting for all elements to load.

This immediate engagement is crucial in retaining user interest. For instance, if your homepage loads quickly, users are more likely to explore further, increasing the chances of conversion.

Additionally, faster load times can have a positive impact on your website's bounce rate. Users are less likely to leave if they don't have to wait for content to load, which can improve your site's overall performance metrics.

Loading Images Efficiently

Images often account for the majority of a webpage's load time. By implementing lazy loading for images, you can significantly improve your page speed. This involves loading images only when they are about to enter the viewport. As a result, users won't have to wait for all images to load before they can interact with your content.

To do this effectively, you can use the loading="lazy" attribute in your image tags. This attribute tells the browser to defer loading the image until it is close to being visible. Additionally, consider using responsive image techniques to serve different image sizes based on the user's device, further optimizing load times.

Handling Videos and Media Content

Videos and other media content can be resource-intensive, causing significant delays in load times if not managed properly. Lazy loading can also be applied to these elements. By embedding videos with lazy loading techniques, you ensure they only load when a user scrolls to them.

For example, instead of directly embedding a video, use a thumbnail image with a play button overlay. When the user clicks the play button, the video loads and plays. This not only saves bandwidth but also improves the initial loading speed of the page.

JavaScript and CSS Deferred Loading

JavaScript and CSS files are essential for modern web applications, but they can also be a bottleneck if not handled correctly. Lazy loading these resources involves deferring their loading until they are needed. This can be achieved using the defer and async attributes for JavaScript files.

The defer attribute ensures that the script is executed after the HTML document has been parsed, while the async attribute allows the script to be executed as soon as it's available. For CSS, consider using media queries to load stylesheets conditionally based on the user's device or viewport size.

Tips for Optimizing Lazy Loading

Implementing lazy loading is just the beginning. To truly optimize your website's performance, follow these additional tips and best practices.

Use Browser Native Features

Modern browsers offer native support for lazy loading, making it easier than ever to implement this technique. By using native features, you can ensure compatibility and reduce the need for third-party libraries, which can add unnecessary overhead.

To take advantage of these features, simply add the loading="lazy" attribute to your image and iframe tags. This simple addition can have a significant impact on your page speed, especially for image-heavy sites.

Besides, using native features ensures that your site remains future-proof, as browsers continue to enhance their support for lazy loading and other performance optimizations.

Minimize Default Image Size

Before applying lazy loading, it's crucial to optimize your images for size. Large images can still slow down load times, even with lazy loading. Use image compression tools to reduce file sizes without sacrificing quality.

Optimize Animations

Animations can enhance user experience, but they can also impact performance if not optimized. Use CSS animations instead of JavaScript whenever possible, as they are more efficient and can be hardware-accelerated by the browser.

Ensure that animations are smooth and don't cause layout shifts, which can negatively affect user experience. Test your animations on different devices to ensure they perform well across the board.

Remember, the goal is to create a seamless experience for your users. By optimizing animations, you can enhance the visual appeal of your site without compromising performance.

Test Across Multiple Devices

It's essential to test your website on a variety of devices and screen sizes. What works well on a desktop might not perform the same on a mobile device. Use tools like Google PageSpeed Insights to analyze your site's performance and identify areas for improvement.

Regular testing ensures that your lazy loading implementation works as intended across different platforms, providing a consistent experience for all users.

Overcoming Common Lazy Loading Challenges

While lazy loading offers numerous benefits, it's not without its challenges. Addressing these issues ensures that your implementation is successful and doesn't negatively impact your site.

Dealing with SEO Concerns

Lazy loading can sometimes interfere with search engine indexing if not implemented correctly. To ensure your content is indexed, use server-side rendering or provide fallbacks for search engines that may not execute JavaScript. For more insights, check out how lazy loading decreases load time and increases engagement.

Ensure all critical content is available without JavaScript.

Use structured data to help search engines understand your content.

Regularly monitor your site's indexing status in Google Search Console.

These strategies help maintain your site's visibility in search engine results, ensuring that lazy loading doesn't negatively impact your SEO efforts.

Addressing Browser Compatibility Issues

While most modern browsers support lazy loading, some older versions may not. To ensure compatibility, consider using a polyfill or fallback solutions for browsers that don't support lazy loading natively.

By addressing these compatibility issues, you can provide a consistent experience for all users, regardless of their browser choice. Regularly updating your site and testing on different browsers can help you identify and resolve any issues that arise.

Troubleshooting Loading Delays

Even with lazy loading implemented, you might encounter loading delays. This often happens when elements are not optimized or when there are too many third-party scripts running on your site. To troubleshoot these issues, start by identifying the elements that are causing delays. Use tools like Google Chrome's Developer Tools to pinpoint these elements and analyze their loading times.

Once you've identified the culprits, consider compressing images, deferring non-essential scripts, and minimizing the use of third-party plugins. By doing so, you can significantly reduce loading times and improve the overall performance of your website.

The Future of Lazy Loading in Web Development

Lazy loading is set to become an integral part of web development as websites continue to grow in complexity and size. With the increasing demand for faster and more efficient websites, lazy loading offers a practical solution to enhance user experience without compromising on content richness.

"Lazy loading is not just a trend; it's a necessity for modern web development. As websites evolve, so do the techniques we use to optimize them."

As more developers recognize the benefits of lazy loading, we can expect to see advancements in browser support and new tools that make implementation even easier. This evolution will ensure that lazy loading remains a vital component of web optimization strategies.

Emerging Technologies that Support Lazy Loading

Several emerging technologies are poised to enhance lazy loading capabilities. For instance, progressive web apps (PWAs) and server-side rendering (SSR) can work alongside lazy loading to deliver content more efficiently. PWAs offer offline capabilities and faster load times, while SSR ensures that content is rendered on the server, reducing the load on the client's device.

Additionally, advances in artificial intelligence and machine learning could further optimize lazy loading by predicting user behavior and preloading content accordingly. These technologies have the potential to revolutionize how we approach web performance optimization.

The Growing Importance of Mobile Optimization

As mobile usage continues to rise, optimizing websites for mobile devices has become more critical than ever. Lazy loading plays a crucial role in this optimization by reducing data usage and improving load times on mobile networks.

By implementing lazy loading, you can ensure that your mobile users have a seamless experience, regardless of their network conditions. This is particularly important for users in regions with slower internet speeds, where every byte counts.

Frequently Asked Questions

Lazy loading is a powerful tool, but it can also raise questions for those unfamiliar with its implementation. Here are some common questions and answers to help you better understand lazy loading and its impact on your website.

These insights will help you make informed decisions about implementing lazy loading on your site and address any concerns you may have.

"Lazy loading can seem daunting at first, but with the right guidance, it becomes an invaluable asset for web optimization."

What is lazy loading and how does it work?

Lazy loading is a technique that defers the loading of non-essential elements, such as images and videos, until they are needed. This reduces the initial load time of a webpage, allowing users to interact with the content more quickly. By only loading elements when they enter the viewport, lazy loading conserves resources and improves performance.

How does lazy loading affect page speed and SEO?

Lazy loading can significantly enhance page speed by reducing the number of elements that need to be loaded initially. This not only improves user experience but also positively impacts SEO. Search engines favor faster websites, which can lead to improved rankings.

However, it's essential to ensure that lazy loading is implemented correctly to avoid any negative impact on SEO. This includes providing fallbacks for search engines that may not execute JavaScript and ensuring that all critical content is accessible without JavaScript. For more insights, check out this beginner's guide to lazy loading.

By addressing these considerations, you can harness the benefits of lazy loading without compromising your site's visibility in search engine results.

"Faster websites are favored by both users and search engines, making lazy loading a win-win for performance and SEO."

Therefore, lazy loading is an effective strategy for enhancing both user experience and search engine rankings.

What types of content should be lazy loaded?

Lazy loading is particularly beneficial for large images, videos, and other media content that can slow down a webpage. By deferring these elements, you can ensure that users only load what they need, when they need it.

Additionally, lazy loading can be applied to JavaScript and CSS files, further optimizing load times. By prioritizing essential content and deferring non-essential elements, you can create a more efficient and user-friendly website.

Are there any drawbacks to implementing lazy loading?

While lazy loading offers numerous benefits, it does have some potential drawbacks. If not implemented correctly, it can interfere with search engine indexing and result in missing or delayed content. To mitigate these risks, ensure that your lazy loading implementation is compatible with search engines and provides fallbacks for non-JavaScript environments. For more insights, check out Boost Your Website Speed With Lazy Loading.

How do I verify if lazy loading is working on my site?

To verify that lazy loading is working, use browser developer tools to inspect the network activity. Check if images and other media elements are loading only when they enter the viewport. Additionally, tools like Google PageSpeed Insights can help you analyze your site's performance and confirm that lazy loading is functioning as intended.

By regularly monitoring your site's performance and addressing any issues that arise, you can ensure that lazy loading continues to enhance your website's speed and user experience.

[qualityassurance11]

How Load Testing Enhances User Experience and Application Stability 

User experience and application stability are crucial in today's digital world. Be it an e-commerce site in festival sale or a game with millions of concurrent players or a Saas to back global enterprises; all of them must be ready to bear the load and this is why load testing becomes a necessity! 

Load testing is the process of experimenting on an application with a group of users, so that you could determine its behavior when it has large (or not so large) amount people using it. This would be useful to identify any possibly slow bottlenecks, ensure proper performance of applications and clean user experience. This blog talks about load testing, helping to improve the user experience, ensuring the stability of the application and the necessity of load testing in contemporary applications. 

What is Load Testing? 

Load testing means testing an application with a specified number of users and measuring that performance. Teams can now look at response times, throughput and resource utilization under different conditions to predict the application parameters so that during high load the app behaves as intended. 

Before the end-users face it, this way of proactive testing helps in finding the performance problems like slow load times or crash or server overload. 

The Role of Load Testing in Enhancing User Experience 

Faster Load Times 

Users have a high expectation of how fast applications load, and any delays in that process often result in frustration or abandonment. 

Load testing helps reveal slow-loading elements so that developers can optimize code and server configurations and result in faster response time. 

Consistent Performance Across Devices 

Make sure applications work well on various devices and platforms. 

Load testing which virtually loads various devices are kept ensuring the homogeneity of all users. 

Seamless Navigation During Peak Traffic 

Servers may have to work extra hard, scenarios like flash sales or the launch of a product often lead to high traffic. 

Load testing is done to ensure these types of applications can be prepared for these types of scenarios beforehand and tackle spikes without a slow-down. 

Increased Customer Satisfaction 

A non-crashing responsive application is a good user experience. 

By identifying and addressing performance issues before they impact customers, load testing increases retention rates and creates brand loyalty. 

How Load Testing Boosts Application Stability 

Prevents Downtime 

Unexpected traffic surges can cause servers to crash, resulting in downtime. 

Load testing is to simulate the above scenario and to help identify the weak points and strengthen the server at capacity. 

Detects Memory Leaks and Resource Bottlenecks 

Memory leaks or high CPU usage under load could affect resource-intensive applications. 

Load testing allows teams to pinpoint and resolve such problems before they become critical. 

Ensures Scalability 

Applications now must scale and that means increasing user numbers. 

Load testing keeps an eye on the ability of an application to take on the load that the real world represents without losing efficiency or stability. 

Validates Infrastructure Readiness 

Simulated loads are the best way to test the infrastructure to make sure the backend works in real time. 

Load testing includes testing on databases, APIs, and server configurations. 

Improves Disaster Recovery Readiness 

Load testing helps prepare teams for real-world failures by testing how an application recovers after a crash or an overload. 

Best Practices for Load Testing 

Define Clear Objectives 

Identify your application’s performance goals before you begin. Defining how fast a response can be on a certain load and throughput level is one way to set deterministic guidelines. 

Simulate Realistic User Behavior 

Tools such as JMeter allow you to simulate actual customer actions (navigating, searching, buying, etc.). This ensures that the insights are correct. 

Test in Stages 

Conduct tests from normal user loads and scale up to peak loads will allow us to find patterns of degradation. 

Use Cloud-Based Load Testing 

Cloud resources enable testing in various geographical locations that present a true perspective on how well your application performs around the world. 

Leverage Automation 

Time is one of the many advantages of automated load testing tools, and they also allow for consistent testing due to the load generation code being the same. 

The GhostQA Advantage in Load Testing 

The GhostQA Load Testing Engine is based on JMeter. It gives an easier solution for performance testing. So here is what makes GhostQA different: 

Low Code Testing Approach: Generate complex load tests with writing low code scripts, accessible to QA teams of any experience level. 

Auto-Healing Features: With GhostQA, it adjusts to the changes in the application, which in turn reduces test maintenance efforts. 

Comprehensive Reporting: In-depth test reports offer insights to optimize application performance. 

Scalability: With minimal effort, you can simulate realistic loads and can test your application for stability. 

GhostQA enables teams to include load testing right into their QA process for quality software that actually holds up in the real world. 

Real-Life Applications of Load Testing 

E-commerce Platforms: Prepare the website for events featuring high traffic such as seasonal sales or other promotions. 

Gaming Applications: Validate your app is not only up but also do not crash under high usage workloads like a game release. 

Streaming Services: Testing the quality of the stream under user load. 

SaaS Applications: Ensure consistent performance to end users around the globe. 

Banking Applications: Make sure that it is available even with high transactional load like days when the payroll is processed. 

Conclusion 

Load testing is key to delivering the high-quality software your customers expect. This stimulates the real factors that prevent the system from being unreal, and its agencies help to identify bottlenecks that improve operation and application stability. 

GhostQA is a Performance testing automation tool that is AI based for load testing for the codeless platform. Solutions like GhostQA empower organizations to make sure that their applications are resilient, scalable, and ready to face the real-world load. 

Begin Load Testing right from now to deliver an excellent user experience by stabilizing the application. Your users will be grateful for that! 

[kids-worldfun]

Optimizing Oracle Cloud Integration with Test Automation

Modern corporations that want to smooth out their IT operations and improve their business procedures must use Oracle Cloud Integration. With Oracle Cloud Integration, organizations can ensure the connection of different applications, services or data sources to form one effective and consolidated system. So, this integration maintains the smooth flow of data and real-time information exchange on…

[altdigitaltechnologies]

Testing

Delivering exceptional software requires a keen eye for quality. At Alt Digital Technologies, we don't just develop, we engineer trust through our comprehensive testing solutions. We focus on delivering top-notch quality assurance, the cornerstone of any successful software product. Our proficiency in automated testing, ensures your software’s seamless performance, saving valuable time and resources.

We also value the importance of manual testing in software testing. Our adept testers are thorough in their approach, ensuring no potential issue goes unnoticed. Equipped with a range of automated software testing tools, we offer a balanced testing solution that combines the speed of automation with the meticulousness of manual testing. Choose Alt Digital Technologies for a flawless software experience.

[thewatcher727]

Writing Description Notes: Physical Pain

Updated 6th June 2024 More description notes

It was as if his bones were made of glass, shattering into a million pieces with every movement and sending waves of sharp, shooting pain coursing through his limbs.

His muscles screamed in protest with every step, each movement sending jolts of electric pain shooting through his body.

The ache settled deep into his bones, a dull, persistent throb that seemed to resonate with every heartbeat.

Every inch of his body felt tenderized, as if he had been used as a punching bag in a brutal workout session.

The sensation of blood trickling down his skin was a grim reminder of the violence he had endured.

His ribs screamed in protest with every breath, each inhalation a sharp reminder of the blows he had taken.

The world seemed to spin around him in a dizzying blur, his vision clouded by the stars of pain that danced across his field of vision with every movement.

A sharp, stabbing sensation shot through his lower back, making him wince.

Her temples throbbed with a relentless, pounding headache.

He clutched his side, pain radiating from the bruise with every breath.

Her muscles screamed in protest, the soreness a reminder of yesterday’s workout.

A burning ache spread through his chest, each heartbeat intensifying the agony.

She bit her lip, trying to stifle the groan as pain flared in her twisted ankle.

His knuckles were raw and throbbing, evidence of the fight.

She pressed a hand to her forehead, a dull ache settling behind her eyes.

A searing pain lanced through his knee, nearly buckling his leg.

She gripped the edge of the table, knuckles white as pain shot through her arm.

Her trembling hands betrayed the unyielding agony in her joints, a relentless companion.

Doubled over, he fought against the relentless cramps that seized his stomach.

A sudden, searing pain in her wrist forced her to relinquish her grip, the cup clattering to the ground.

Every step reverberated through her aching feet, a reflection to the miles she had traversed.

Rubbing his shoulder provided little respite from the persistent agony that gnawed at the joint.

A sharp sting on her finger brought fresh irritation, the paper cut a small but sharp reminder of vulnerability.

His tooth throbbed incessantly, a deep, pulsating ache that clouded his thoughts.

Each movement of her stiff and sore neck elicited a fresh wave of discomfort, a constant reminder of strain.

A stabbing pain in his chest made each breath a struggle, a reminder of mortality's grasp.

The throbbing in his hand, where the door had slammed shut, served as a relentless reminder of his own clumsiness.

A dull ache settled deep within her lower back, rendering even sitting a feat of endurance.

His leaden legs protested with every step, each movement a symphony of agony.

His head spun, the pain behind his eyes making it hard to focus.

Sharp pangs in her side served as a reminder of the physical toll of her exertion, a stitch from pushing too hard.

His throbbing ankle, swollen and tender, made each step a test of willpower.

Gritting her teeth against the shooting pain, she cursed the strain from overuse that tormented her wrist.

Pressing a hand to his chest, he felt the pain radiate outward in relentless waves, a reminder of vulnerability.

Her burning shoulder protested each movement, the pain a constant reminder of her injury.

He winced as sharp pains flared in his elbow, each movement a reminder of his body's fragility.

A deep ache throbbed in her hip, a persistent discomfort that refused to be ignored.

His fingers tingled with pain, a result of gripping the tool too tightly for too long.

[sirfrogsworth]

I think this question is the most asked one I see from people starting their photography journey.

They upgrade from their smartphone and get a nicer camera and lens and then wonder why their photos don't look much different.

A fancy camera opens up more possibilities and gives you great control. Lenses are creative tools that allow myriad perspectives. But a paintbrush does not paint a picture for you.

The answer to the question is light and effort.

The better the light, the less effort required. The worse the light, the more effort required. But you always need both to get a good photo. And you need a lot of both to get a spectacular photo.

Imagine this photo taken in the same overcast light as the waterfall above.

That would be the world's most boring parking lot photo.

But because the light was so beautiful I was able to pull out my smartphone and get a great shot. No fancy camera required. But I knew my phone was limited so I took three photos for a panorama. And I captured everything in RAW format to make sure I didn't lose any dynamic range or color information. This required a lot of extra post processing to combine everything and edit the colors close to what my eyeballs saw.

The light made things much easier. I just had to point the camera in the direction of the sunset. But effort was still part of the equation.

The best light is at...

Sunrise.

Sunset.

Or at night (tripod required).

Or... bring your own light.

I had a sunset but my friend was in the dark so I employed my gigantic 7 foot umbrella.

Good photographers often plan their shots in advance. They will scout locations (Google Maps is your friend), take test shots to find the best composition, and then wait until the light is magical to get their shot. There are some landscapists who return to a spot continuously until conditions are perfect. I've heard of some who spend a year or more to get the photo they desire.

I knew I was going to be near the Arch. I used Google Maps to figure out a cool vantage point. I hauled my tripod a few blocks to that spot. And then my heart sank a little...

They turned the lights off.

The lights that illuminate the Arch confuse migrating geese in September. I still took the photo. And it's okay. But I didn't have the light I wanted. So I'll have to go back another time when geese aren't screwing everything up.

I'll have to put in that effort.

I understand you cannot always plan ahead. If photographers need to get a good shot spontaneously in bad light, they have to go above and beyond to elevate the photo.

They might have to find an interesting perspective.

Perhaps use an atypical lens.

Long exposure.

Or they can incorporate an interesting subject. A model. An old barn. Fungus.

Think about foreground, midground, and background. If you have a dull background, increase interest in the foreground or midground. Or both.

Again, the worse the light is, the more effort you have to put in to compensate. You might find yourself lying on the ground or dangling over a cliff.

Another option is to bring your own light. Overcast days can actually look quite compelling if you light a subject and then underexpose the background. This can bring out a lot of details in the clouds that would otherwise get lost in a natural light exposure.

(not my photo, source unknown)

Sometimes the prettiest days make the most boring photos. Sunlight at high noon is very hard to work with photographically. Especially if you have people in the photo. Hard shadows tend to not be flattering.

Black and white can sometimes make harsh sunlight look cool.

Or you can add a fold-up diffuser to help soften things.

All of this is to say... you cannot take a fancy camera to a waterfall on an overcast day and expect it to do all of the work. You are just going to end up with a flat looking snapshot. You have to put thought into your photos. You need a bag of tricks you can pull from at any moment. And you have to be willing to go the extra mile if you don't have the light you want.

For a waterfall at sunset, you can just put it dead center and call it a day.

(photographer unknown)

But if you have an overcast day with boring light, you're gonna need to effort your ass off.

This photographer put the camera near the ground, found a great composition, included cool foreground/midground elements, and used long exposure to make the water silky.

(Stephen Spragg)

There is also the option to combine maximum light with maximum effort.

This is by famed photographer, Joe McNally. He shot at night. There is a hidden flash off to the right of the worker. He used a wide lens to get a unique perspective. He used long exposure to get light trails from the cars below. Oh, and he is hanging off the side of a building.

Light and effort. Light and effort. Light and effort.

And, as always, the third secret ingredient is... education.

Education will help you leverage light and effort more so than any camera or lens. Don't just learn the open chords. Learn those ones where you have to stretch your pinky out super far while barring the low F.

Sorry, I used to play guitar and a metaphor slipped through.

Free photography education...

Tony & Chelsea 7 Hour Course Karl Taylor Free Introduction to Photography

[clearskytest]

Cloud-Based Test Automation Tools at ClearSky

Cloud-based Test Automation Tools: Clear Sky For developers looking for an efficient and cost-effective way to automate their software testing, cloud-based test automation tools offer a solution. Clear Sky is one such product that allows users to create automated tests in the browser window without needing any setup or installation. Its key features include powerful reporting capabilities, support for multiple browsers, integration with existing systems like Jenkins CI and GitHub Actions; as well as detailed dashboards designed to help teams track progress over time. Clear Sky can be used on both web applications and API services helping streamline the process of developing high-quality products within tight timelines.

[imababblekat]

Bayverse TmnT X Touchy Reader; Hc's

@fandomcrazieshangout ,"This request is for all the boys. Reader doesn't seem to like people touching them but when it's the turtles they act almost touch starved. Turns out reader has a little adhd and they prefer the boys reptile skin over human skin. A weird request I'm sure, but it's what I want. ( I think this works fine for platonic but if you feeling you can add romance just Donnie and Raph)

~xXx~

-no one really thinks anything about it, just figuring you don't liked being touched

-then one time Mikey, being as socially loving as he is, forgets your no touch rule and sweeps you up into big ol hug

-Leo lightly scolding him reminds him that oh yeah, no touchy, and he quickly puts you down

-but instead of rubbing your arms on a surface to get rid of the feel like you do if even April were to accidentally brush against your hand, you don't do that at all

-you just shrug and go about your business and boys are like ??? can touch ???

-Donnie's the one who makes studious observations from afar and comes to the conclusion that their pebbled/scaled skin is a sort of sensory comfort to you

-he's the one to actually test his theory, letting his hands linger for a moment when you pass him a tool and watching to see if you wipe your hand or not

-once he's absolutely sure he's right in his hypothesis that you do in fact find comfort in physical contact with him and his brothers, he gives them the news, but not after relishing in your contact for a bit longer first

-this news obv makes Mikey so excited, and his brothers have to remind him to take it slow to still not scare you

-doesn't take long for Mikey to make it onto your exception list

-bro will literally hug you any chance he gets, and when you start to hug back

-oh, he's died and gone to heaven!

-Leo's a bit more cautious about it, still apprehensive about pushing any boundaries

-even when you reassure him its okay for him to touch you, he still always ask first and even apologizes if he does so by accident

-absolutely revels in the feeling of you running your hands over his skin

-Leo's def not touch starved or anything

-at least not as much as Raphael

-speaking of which; Raph lets you touch him but acts like a bit of jerk at first, pretending that he doesn't care but really he's floating on cloud nine

-you? of all people, want to touch him?!

-the first time you ask to see what his face feels like, he's very hesitant but eventually agrees

-and boy, is he glad he did because the second your soft hands cradled his cheeks and your little thumbs caress the rough skin, he about damn near melts like a puddle in your palms

~xXx~

[digy4]

Cloud Testing Tool at Digy4

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[cece693]

He's Taken (Jason Grace x Son of Aphrodite)

Since one of you requested something with Jason and a son of Aphrodite, I wrote this to prepare for it :)

Summary: Piper has had the biggest crush on Jason...too bad he's already taken and by her sibling, no less.

tags: Piper chases after Jason, she should've known he was taken, you're Aphrodite's favorite child, jealousy between siblings, protective Jason

Piper should’ve known Jason was taken the moment he politely turned down her flirtatious remarks, following it up by calling her a "very good friend." Friend. That word alone should’ve raised multiple red flags, but Piper was blinded by her crush on the son of Jupiter. Maybe Jason was just as oblivious as Percy had been, from what Annabeth had fondly recalled, but when their group arrived at Camp Half-Blood and the Roman immediately ran toward a handsome boy waiting at the camp’s border, Piper finally understood.

The reason Jason wasn’t interested in her was because he was already in a relationship—with you, M/N, Aphrodite’s most favored child. Though no one had explicitly said you were the favorite, the moment Piper stayed in Cabin 10 and saw you casually conversing with your mother through a seashell—as if it were the most natural thing in the world—she couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy.

Here you were, not only in a relationship with Jason, the boy she liked, but you were also head of Cabin 10, and on such good terms with Aphrodite, a goddess often criticized for her distant treatment of her children.

Piper wanted to hate you, but it was impossible.

You were kind—too kind. You had a natural charm that Piper couldn’t help but notice, and it wasn’t long before you started forming close friendships with the rest of her friends. You had been friends with Annabeth, Percy, and Nico way before Piper knew them, so that didn't sting, but when Hazel, Frank, and Leo began to enjoy your company, hanging out without a care in the world, it stung.

Each interaction stoked Piper’s jealousy. She could see how easily you fit in with everyone—how naturally people gravitated toward you. It wasn’t your fault, but it felt like you were taking over her world.

Then, she heard about the rite of passage.

While spending more time with the children of Aphrodite, Piper learned about an old tradition within the cabin. Each camper, once they had reached a certain level of maturity or skill, was expected to break someone’s heart. It was supposed to be a test—an initiation of sorts to prove their power over love, to demonstrate that they could wield it as a tool. It had been prohibited a while back, campers calling it an outdated and cruel practice, but Piper couldn’t shake the feeling that you were still following the old ways.

You're playing him, she thought bitterly. How dare you wrap him around your finger, only to break his heart down the line. Upon discovering this, she was unable to take it anymore. Storming into Cabin 10, while the rest of camp was busy at the dining pavilion, Piper found you sitting on your bed, reading, looking annoyingly serene.

“You think you’re so clever, don’t you?” Piper spat, her voice trembling with barely contained rage.

You looked up slowly, frowning at the harsh tone. “What?"

“Oh, don’t act like you don’t know,” Piper snapped, stepping closer. “I know exactly what you’re doing. You’re using Jason, stringing him along, just waiting for the perfect moment to break his heart.”

“Piper, you’re not making any sense. What are you talking about?”

“The rite of passage!” Piper’s voice was rising, her emotions barely under control. “That ridiculous tradition your cabin has where you break someone’s heart to prove yourself. That’s what you’re doing to Jason, isn’t it? You’re leading him on, playing him!”

You sighed, setting your book aside, your patience wearing thin. “Piper, you’re letting your jealousy cloud your judgment. This isn’t about Jason or some old tradition—this is about you not being able to accept that Jason is with someone else.”

Piper’s eyes flashed, her fists clenching at her sides. “Don’t twist this around on me! I’m trying to protect Jason. You’re going to hurt him—I know it. You’ve been manipulating him from the start!”

“No, Piper,” you said firmly, standing to face her. “This is your jealousy talking. You’re so desperate to find something—anything—to make Jason yours that you’re willing to believe whatever makes me the villain. But the only thing you're doing is pushing him away. Accept that he only sees you as a friend."

Although Piper disliked you immensely, that didn't mean you were happy to see your sibling suffer. Love was both a blessing and a curse. While you felt in paradise, basking in Jason's love, Piper suffered from painful, unrequited love.

Piper’s breath caught in her throat, her anger faltering for a moment as your words struck a chord. But she quickly pushed it aside, shaking her head. “That’s not true. I just don’t want to see him get hurt.”

“You don’t want to see him get hurt, or you don’t want to see him happy with someone else?”

Piper’s face flushed with anger and hurt. “I love him! And I know he loves me too, he just doesn’t see it because you’ve blinded him!”

Before the argument could escalate further, the cabin door swung open, and Jason stepped inside, his brow furrowed with confusion. His sharp blue eyes flicked between you and Piper, quickly sensing the tension in the room. “What’s going on?”

Piper turned to him, her desperation clear as she rushed to explain, “Jason, you have to listen to me—M/N’s just using you, manipulating your feelings to pass some sick test!”

Jason’s frown deepened, clearly caught off guard by her accusation. “What are you talking about?”

Piper’s voice cracked, a mix of panic and emotion seeping through as she took another step toward him, her eyes pleading. “That old rite of passage—where a child of Aphrodite has to break someone’s heart. He’s just waiting for the perfect moment to tear you apart. I’m trying to protect you from getting hurt!”

Jason blinked, his confusion gradually giving way to understanding. His posture relaxed as he sighed, but his voice remained firm. “Piper, stop. You’re wrong.”

Piper froze in place, her heart pounding in her chest as Jason’s words sunk in. “What? No, Jason, I’m not wrong! They’re lying to you!”

Jason stepped forward, his gaze steady and unwavering. “No, they’re not. I already know about the rite of passage, Piper. M/N told me about it a long time ago.”

The room seemed to close in on Piper, her world momentarily spinning. “You…you knew?”

Jason nodded slowly. “Yes. And I also know that it was M/N who banned it.”

Piper shook her head, her mind racing as she tried to process what he was saying. “No, that can’t be true. He’s just...how can you be so sure?”

Jason sighed softly, stepping closer to her, his voice quieter but filled with conviction. “Piper, I know you’re trying to protect me, but you have to understand—I know M/N. I know him better than anyone, and he would never hurt me. He loves me too much to do something as horrible as that."

Piper’s eyes darted between the two of you, still filled with confusion and doubt. “But what if you’re wrong? What if—”

“I’m not wrong, Piper,” Jason interrupted gently but firmly, his gaze unwavering. “I trust him completely. He’s never given me a reason to doubt him.”

Piper stood there, frozen for a moment, Jason’s words echoing in her mind. The certainty in his voice, the way he spoke about M/N with such unwavering trust—it hit her like a punch to the gut. Jason was in love with him. Truly, deeply in love.

Her heart cracked. No matter how much she wanted to believe she could change his mind, the reality was staring her in the face: she didn’t stand a chance.

Without saying another word, Piper took a step back, her chest tightening as the weight of her unrequited feelings pressed down on her. She bit her lip to keep the tears from spilling, her pride barely holding together. Then, before either of you could say anything more, she turned on her heel and fled the cabin, the door swinging shut behind her with a soft thud.

Jason stood there for a moment, staring at the closed door, his expression a mixture of regret and sadness. He sighed softly, turning back to you with a look of concern. “I didn’t mean for things to get that heated. I never wanted to hurt her.”

You stepped forward, wrapping your arms around him in a gentle embrace. “She’ll be okay. She just needs time to process everything. It's not easy to get over a crush; I should know.”

Your attempt at a joke landed miserably, but to your relief, Jason let out a small chuckle, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly. The tension in the air began to dissipate, replaced by a warmth that enveloped both of you.

“Have I ever told you how lucky I am to have you?” he asked, his voice soft and sincere.

“Oh, just like a thousand times,” you replied playfully. “But I also ask myself the same thing: how did I get so lucky as to find you, Jason Grace?”

Smiling up at him, you felt your cheeks heat up as he brushed a strand of hair behind your ear, gazing at you with quiet admiration. The world around you faded into the background, leaving just the two of you wrapped in this moment. “I don’t deserve you.” he said, a hint of vulnerability in his tone.

You shook your head with a chuckle, determined to dispel his doubts. “You deserve all the good things, Jason.”

He grinned, his eyes sparkling with warmth and affection as he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

[syoddeye]

the gift that keeps on giving - part three/final, nikolai

Every year, on each of their birthdays, you're delivered with a bottle of Scotch. Shared. Savored. Spoiled.

cw: established relationship, everything is consensual, reader is shared between price+nik+kate, alcohol, pet names, nik calling himself 'old man', piv, mild scent/armpit kink, rimming, overstim

a/n: AO3. series page.

The door groans as Nikolai shoulders it open, the cold clinging like a second skin.

Snow dusts his boots, melting in thin streams into dark puddles on the wooden floor. Sweat cools beneath his clothes, seeping into the fabric of his coat. His breath clouds in the cabin’s warmth as he steps inside, dropping the firewood beside the stove with a heavy thud. He rolls his shoulders, the lingering bite of winter settled deep in his bones. Shedding his outer layers, he cracks his neck from side to side, drawing in a deep breath. 

The cabin is simple—rustic, as John would put it. Remote. Tucked even further away than the hangar, well within in fuck off territory. A lonely place for a birthday.

Which makes it perfect.

For as long as he can remember, his birthday has always been just another day. So what if it marks the anniversary of him arriving in the world, red-faced and screaming? People are born. People die. It’s not an achievement. It isn’t special. He is nothing special.

She is.

Even if she is…less than pleased with their lodgings.

She sits wrapped in a thick blanket by the fireplace, face pinched in unmistakable displeasure. Legs tucked beneath her, lower lip pushed into a scowl, fingers drumming irritably.

Nikolai exhales a quiet chuckle, shaking his head as he unlaces his boots. “What is this face?” he muses, glancing at her. “You have not moved a muscle, have you?”

She glares. “I’m conserving heat. Important when you’re trapped in the wilderness against your will.”

“Mm.” He hums thoughtfully, peeling off his gloves. “Sitting indoors, by a fire, wrapped in a blanket. Yes, very tragic for you.”

“You’re mocking me.”

“Am I?”

She huffs, pulling the blanket tighter. “When are we going to do something fun?”

He raises a brow. “Not enjoying yourself?”

She fixes him with a flat look. “I enjoy heat, comfort, and WiFi. None of which exist in this godforsaken place. That hotel I recommended on the other hand…”

Nikolai tsks, stepping closer. “You are soft, tsarevna.”

“I have standards.”

He smirks. “Yes. High standards, yet still, you are here. With me. On my birthday.” Just another day, but a useful tool in his belt. “I seem to recall you said you would give this place a shot. Work on that bad attitude of yours.”

She shrugs, utterly unrepentant. “I can’t help that I’m meant for finer things. I still don’t understand why we couldn’t go somewhere warm and hospitable,” she gripes. “In Naxos, Kate and I sunbathed for hours.”

“Ah, darling.” He clicks his tongue. “You know I don’t like complaining.”

“I’m only saying, if we went through with Thoddo, or Krk—”

Nik laughs. She’s trying to push his buttons. Has to be.

John warned him about this, about scooping her up and stealing away here. Said she wouldn’t like it. Said their little indoor cat of a woman would sulk. That she’d become spoiled. A playful jab at the time, but now, Nik’s not so sure.

It doesn’t usually fall to him, the wrangling, but she usually does not test him so much. He plays rough with her, but never from a place of correction. 

That may have to change. A new year, new role, perhaps.

He moves suddenly, crossing the room in a handful of strides. Her mouth falls open to argue, maybe to apologize, but his mind’s made up. Prissy thing needs a lesson.

Faster than she can react, he seizes her wrist and hauls her up, dragging her to her feet. She stumbles into him, yelping, palms splaying over his chest.

“Nikolai!”

His grin widens, wicked and full of mischief. He reaches down, grabs the hem of his damp thermal, and yanks it up—then in one smooth motion, tugs it over her head, trapping her face against his clammy skin.

Her muffled shriek is instant. “YOU ANIMAL!”

Nikolai chuckles, locking her in place with one arm around her waist. “Breathe deep,” he deadpans. “This is the scent of hard work. Of man.”

She thrashes hard, but he doesn’t budge. “Let me go!”

“Shhh.” He rubs a slow, patronizing hand over her back. “You will learn to appreciate it.”

She makes a strangled noise of absolute outrage, trying to wrench free, but he keeps her snug against him, her face buried in the coarse hair and sticky sweat of his chest.

“Nik, I swear to God—”

Finally, he lets go, stepping back as she stumbles, gasping for air like she’s survived an assassination attempt.

She wipes her face furiously, murderous. “You’re disgusting.”

Nikolai only pats her cheek, still grinning. “But you are warm now, no? Maybe vigorous activity is in order.”

She glares, but he snatches her wrist and tugs, slingshotting her toward the washroom. She stumbles, catching herself as he lands a smack to her rear, herding her into the washroom.

The claws come out when he strips her, but she doesn’t use her words once—beyond cursing him out.

“Perverted old man,” She hisses as he pushes his nose into her bunched-up panties.

“Unlike you, I like it sweaty. Adds flavor.” he laughs, nudging her under the water.

The hot water here lasts, at best, ten minutes. So after she sees to herself, he puts her to work, scrubbing soap into his back and chest, raking her nails through the thick whorls of hair. When he lifts his arms, she grimaces, suddenly face to face with the dense fur of his armpits.

He pictures doing it again, pressing her face into the hair to hear her shriek. Instead, he pulls her into a kiss, water slipping between their locked lips. Mercy to keep her on her toes.

He kisses her deeply, savoring until he’s certain he’s planted stars in her eyes. She doesn’t resist when he motions for her to continue. He sighs in contentment, eyes shutting, even as the water turns tepid. The warmth of his own skin is enough, as are the palms massaging his belly and thighs. Nothing’s left untouched despite her grousing. Sour mood or not, she knows what’s expected.

A hand wraps around his length, pulling a grunt from him.

He was wondering when she’d get to that.

Nik cracks his eyes to find her watching, drenched, her mouth curled into a small crooked smile. 

There she is.  

Perhaps someone’s feeling more like herself.

He plants his hands on the tile behind her, caging her in. A thin stream of water trickles from his chin, landing on her shoulder and sliding down the curve of her chest. His breath ghosts over her ear, a quiet huff of amusement. In response, she firms up her grip, the water making her strokes smooth and fluid.

It’s always better than the time before. Even just her hands, warm and slightly pruny, are heaven. He’s used to working with men who throw themselves out of helicopters, tear down walls, and kill with their bare hands. To John’s impatient, squeezing fist and borderline cruel efficiency. And while she’s not gentle with him, her grip tight and her rhythm insistent, he craves it all the same.

She buries her face against him willingly this time, lips trailing over muscle and coarse hair, his gold chain. She finds places to bite, to suck, a little leech in every sense. It’s forgivable. What they have is a mutual parasitism, after all. Everyone in their covenant gets something in return.

For a long time, he thought it was just the carnal aspects—something to spice up his and John’s relationship, keep them company. But now, well into their arrangement, with years of traditions and ritual, he knows it’s more than that.

After all, what better way to make a man feel twenty years younger than having a pretty, stubborn girl worship him?

Nik returns the affection, brushing his lips over her temple, murmuring praise, savoring. He bucks occasionally, breaking low assurances with curses he’s taught her. She swipes her thumb over the head of his cock, and he nips the shell of her ear, a quiet growl escaping him.

“Trying to make me shoot early, darling?”

She bites a nipple. Hard. Speaks with it between her teeth. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Kolya.” 

Spiteful hellcat.

His skin’s on fire despite the shower. He may not be on the ground to the same extent as John, but he prides himself on his stamina, which wanes quicker than he likes nowadays. He won’t waste his cum.

He’s an old man now. He’s not eager to test how quickly he can rally.

“Let go.” He straightens, running his tongue over his lip. He gestures with his head, curtly ordering, “Turn around.”

She hesitates. He sees it in the slight shift of her weight, ready to take to whatever she imagines he has planned. Waiting for the other shoe to drop, still convinced that the real punishment is coming.

Surely, a shower can’t be it? That’s what she’s thinking—plain as day.

Her brows pinch, lips parting to speak only to shut, thinking better of it. She’s rarely nervous with him, or any of them, which makes her poker face exceedingly unpracticed.

She does as asked, steadying herself against the wall.

Nikolai admires the view. The curve of her spine, her skin. The pleasing heat pooled at the bottom of his stomach hurts, internally grumbling at the restraint.

He kneels with a grunt, the dull ache in his lower back and shoulders a lingering reminder of his labors. Worth it for this.

He meets her gaze as she peeks over her shoulder. Pressed to the wall, braced on her forearms, she’s drawn inward, legs closed. That won’t do. He fixes her stance with a pat on each inner ankle. Positions her how he wants her. Bent forward, ass out. One arm cushioning her head, the other—

“Hold a cheek, that’s it.” 

Like this, there’s nothing to hide. Water splashes off her mid-back, streaming down in rivers, sluicing over her skin and down her crack. It catches and rolls off every crevice, admixing with the drip between her legs.

If he drowns, he drowns.

One hand grips the back of her knee, the other anchoring to her upper thigh. Then, without hesitation, he gets to work.

The first drag is light. A chance to savor the cherry-like taste of soap mixing with the sweet tang of her cunt. He groans against her hole, nose digging into a cheek, water diverting around the bridge. He tucks his tongue inside to feel a feeble clench, then sweeps.

He saws his tongue through her glistening cunt to the furl of her ass, adjusting his grip when the latter wrings a surprised, indignant whine out of her. He lavishes over the rim until he feels it give, chasing it when she wiggles. It’s not her favorite, never has been, but he can usually—yes, there it is. Her squirming turns from escape as soon as his hand slides up from her knee to her folds.

There’s no resistance at all to plunge two fingers into her, crooking and dragging her back onto his tongue again and again. Teasing her ass with the muscle, drawing out a string of soft, helpless whimpers.

Her whines echo when he withdraws, rising to his feet, digits still buried inside. He drapes over her back, lungs heaving in air. A couple milliliters of water in his stomach.

His cock’s trapped between them, slippery in the cleft of her ass. He pumps his fingers slowly, ignoring her fruitless wiggling, encouraging him along, instead snaking his free hand around her front to find her swollen clit. 

“Mmph,” she sinks her teeth into the forearm beneath her head, eyes rolling back.

He watches, rapt. Every twitch in her facial features, each flutter of her lashes. On the edge of oblivion and circling, stuck, chasing the push and pull of his hand. Frustration mounting with every whine. Oh, it’s cruel. So mean.

Rewarding, though, when he stops. Abruptly. Unceremoniously. Tugs his fingers out and jams them into the pocket of his mouth for a taste.

The desperate complaints that erupt, the raw neediness. It satisfies.

Sometimes, he thinks he should be softer with her, the way John and Kate are. They’d both deny it, but they’re far quicker to fold and to dote. Maybe he should spoil her more. Dig out the Simbir, tell her to pack her bags, and take her somewhere warm where the sun bakes the sand white. But that’s not who he is, and she knew that when she got into this.

He already gives her everything. His time, his money, his hands when she needs them. He fixes her shit. Buys her presents. Listens. That’s enough. More than enough. 

And if she ever wanted something else—Kate’s tenderness, John’s predictability—she’d speak up.

Instead, she’s clumsily insulting his haircut and shivering, their shared warmth spiraling down the drain. He entertains her a second more before reaching around, shutting the water off, and slaps her ass.

“Out, darling.”

Nik takes his time drying her off, running the towel over every bit, all while humming an innocent tune. She simmers, jaw tight, but he pays no mind. Then he repeats the process on himself, glancing into the mirror while she hovers behind him, arms crossed tightly and bouncing lightly on her heels.

“You know, maybe if you had not mouthed off, I would be inclined to move faster.”

“Who says I want you to move faster?” She shoots back. “You might break a hip.”

His face must turn demonic with how wide her eyes go. It is nothing to him, just words, he knows. He is old. Certainly not made for jumping out of birds mid-flight.

It’s enjoyable to make her sweat, though.

“Still in a bad mood, tsarevna? What happened to my nice girl? You wound me.”

Nikolai brushes past her, his nose catching the tart scent of soap clinging to her skin. The fragrance is fleeting, but intoxicating, and better that they share it. He passes into the bedroom, throwing himself onto the bed in a heap. His back hits the mattress with a grunt of relief, and he stretches out, arms bent behind his head. He flashes his teeth, enjoying her struggling composure.

He fists the base of his cock, giving it a couple lazy strokes.

“My back’s killing me.”

She doesn’t need to be told twice. Takes the hint.

With a half-hearted scowl, she slinks up the bed, the haze in her eyes and the slick on her thighs betraying her. Settling over him, she plants her hands firmly against his chest, threading into his hair with just enough bite to be mean.The heat of her radiates, burns, sears his knuckles on the upstroke. Eyes locked, he knows what she’s playing at.

“Hate the snow that much?”

“I hate being cold.”

“So you’ve said. Let me warm you up. Sit down.”

She hesitates, chewing her cheek as if she’s not aching for it, but the command takes.

It’s a team effort, her hand over his, guiding and holding him still until the last moment, and then it’s all her following gravity’s lead. Sinking down onto his cock, impaling herself inch by inch.

He groans. “Fuck, baby, like a glove.”

The heat’s almost too much, her cunt drenched and warmed by the shower and his teasing. He digs into her hips, kneading her flesh with a low sound as she settles fully, her mouth hanging open. It won’t be long before she remembers herself. Remember she’s supposed to be cross with him. Play petulant, mock his age, pretend he’s the meanest old bastard she’s ever crossed paths with.

Nik thrusts experimentally, knocking her out of the heavens, dragging her back down to earth with him.

Her eyelids crack open, but she bites off a noise and presses her lips tightly together, fighting herself.

“You’re not cold anymore, are you?” he asks, his voice low and teasing.

She shakes her head. “Still cold.”

He swats her for that, palm cracking across a cheek. “Then get to it.”

It’s slow going at first. More of her posturing, lifting and dropping herself on his dick as mechanically as possible. But another swat makes her clench and speed up, unable to deny how that feels at least. Again, he lets her play her game. Gives her a taste of victory. In return, he doesn’t spare an ounce of effort. He’s flown through countless hot zones, under fire. With a knife to his throat. While applying pressure to a leaking wound. Ignoring a bit of pussy, even when it’s hers, even when it’s warm and perfect, isn’t difficult.

Kate taught him that—to let their pet wear herself out when she’s in a mood. Makes her pliant.

Before long, her movements falter, trembling with the strain, sweat beading along her forehead and trailing down her neck. Down the curve of her stomach, between her swinging breasts. A drop migrates from the tit squeezed in his hand, tracing a path down his wrist. He lets go to lick it off, chuckling at her wince.

“What’s the matter?” he rasps, and when she doesn’t answer, he jerks up hard, and startles a gasp out of her. “Not enough?”

Her movements are sloppier now, equal parts desperation and exhaustion. Poor baby—having to stand in the shower while he spoiled her, having to work for it now. All the while pretending she hates it. Hates the snow. Hates the cabin. Hates the entire trip.

She can lie to herself all she wants.

But she can’t lie to him.

Not when she’s digging her nails into his chest like she’ll slip through the cracks of reality if she lets go. Not when every breath that leaves her lips shakes with need. Not when she stares down at him, wide-eyed, pupils blown, mouth slack.

Makes it sweeter when she finally caves.

She nods, pausing to grind down on his cock. “Need more.”

He hums, letting his hands trace up the length of her spine, slow and easy. “Mm? Thought I was ‘disgusting’? A ‘perverted old man’?”

Before she can bite back, he moves. In a fluid motion, he grips her hips, shifts his weight, and flips her onto her back. She lands with a sharp gasp caught between her teeth. He follows, pressing in close, caging her beneath him. His palms settle at her waist, thumbs stroking over her heated skin.

“Still think that, pretty girl?” he murmurs, eyes gleaming as his breath ghosting over her throat. “Or do you want to try and be nice again?” He glides back in one harsh thrust.

“F-Fuck, Nikolai–”

“C’mon, tsarevna, surely you can do better than that,” he teases, though his control on language falters. He hits something sensitive, making her throw her head back and knock her knees to his ribs. “Shit, at least your hole is honest, what about your mouth?”

She doesn’t get much of a chance to answer—doesn’t have the breath for it. It’s good, too good. Pulling back, relishing the drag, and pushing back in deep, his pace steady and relentless.

She fights a little when he fucks her through her first orgasm. Teary-eyed, looking up at him, her expression one of pure betrayal with her wrists trapped in one of his hands, clicking his tongue at her feeble attempt to shove him off. One brief look affirms she’s fine, so he snarls down a reminder that she can take it.

When he lets go, it’s only to order her. 

“Hold your—yes, baby, like that.” 

It’s obscene. The view, the sounds. Her hands gripping the sweaty curves beneath her knees, holding her legs up, exposing herself completely. Where her cunt swallows him again and again, soaking him and seeping into the sheets. 

He pauses and pulls out completely, like before, timing it perfectly as her muscles tighten, watching her squirm beneath him. Her hole clenches uselessly around nothing, and her hands twitch, fighting to stay put, with her teeth sunk deep into her bottom lip to keep quiet.

She’s learned that much, at least.

If you have nothing nice to say, say nothing at all.

“Look at you. Called me disgusting. But you?” He grinds in slow. “Filthy.”

He thumbs over her clit, drawing messy figure eights over the slippery bud, curling his free fingers in her bush. Some mean word gets tossed his way, but it rewards him with the sharp arch of her spine beneath him. She comes hard just as he pinches her clit, cutting a curse off his tongue with how tight she goes. 

Chain reaction. He lets up the moment he knows it’s inevitable, covering her hands with his own and pressing her knees back as far as they’ll go.

“Shit, shit, shit,” Nikolai grunts, jaw clicking as he heaves himself in as far as he can, burying himself deep. 

He swears it puts years on his life, nullifying whatever time’s stolen. It yanks a dirty laugh out of him when there’s too much, and leaks out around the plug of his cock. Her hole practically spits a glob as he slips free, milky white dribbling down her ass and smearing into his thigh.

The sound of it coming out makes her abandon her hold at last, squeaking out something like oh my god, wrestling with him until he’s flush against her back, head in the space between their pillows. An arm curled around her in a bear hug, the other drifting lower.

His name comes out in a panicked, slurred whisper. “Nik? Nik—Nik—Nik, you c-cah aaaan’t–”

The morning passes into the afternoon before the last of her fight fades. She eventually curls into him like a cat, soft and pliant against him, her muscles relaxed, her cheek pressed to his chest. There’s only one brief interruption in the long stretch of hours—just enough time for him to give her more than just his own fluids, and for him to indulge in the all-important ritual.

He lets her sleep, allowing her to come to on her own time, while he sneaks another drink directly from the bottle, appreciating the burn.

This give and take, the push and pull?

He would not trade it for anything.

She stirs with a small groan, wiping drool from her chin with the back of her hand, blinking slowly, eyes heavy with sleep. A quiet chuckle rumbles in his chest, and he sets the bottle down with a soft clink, his thumb absently tracing the peeling corner of the label.

Her face scrunches in discomfort, pushing herself upright, and suddenly freezes. She cringes, pulling her hand away from a damp spot.

“Kolya?” she murmurs, voice thick with sleep.

“Yes?” 

“C’mon, let’s change the sheets…”

He arches an eyebrow, a lazy grin spreading across his face. “Mm, this is the only set.”

“You animal.”

He chuckles again, pulling her back down to steal a kiss.

She sighs against his mouth. “Happy birthday, old man.”

[l1v-jzn]

˚₊ ꒰ა 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 & 𝐇𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐜 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ — 𝐆𝐞𝐮𝐦 𝐒𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐉𝐞

˚₊ ꒰ა 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ : 𝐠𝐞𝐮𝐦 𝐬𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐣𝐞 𝐱 𝐜𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐝!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

˚₊ ꒰ა 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ : 𝐜𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐝 𝐚𝐮, 𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐲, & 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟

˚₊ ꒰ა 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ : 𝐘/𝐧 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐞𝐱𝐚𝐦: 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐭 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐰, 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐝𝐢𝐩𝐥𝐨𝐦𝐚. 𝐄𝐚𝐬𝐲, 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭?

𝐔𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐥 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐰 𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐨𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐚 𝐥𝐚𝐛 𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭, 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲. 𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐬𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐛𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐧, 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐭, 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐥𝐲 𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡 𝐨𝐧 𝐒𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐉𝐞, 𝐚 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐥 𝐛𝐨𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐫𝐤 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐱𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐦𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐜 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐛𝐞 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐢𝐭? 𝐇𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐢𝐭.

𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠-𝐬𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬, 𝐘/𝐍 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐬.

𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞… 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐟𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟?

˚₊ ꒰ა 𝗡𝗼𝘄 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘆𝗶𝗻𝗴: "𝐂𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐝 - 𝐅𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐲 𝐅𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐲" ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

𝟎𝟏:𝟓𝟕 ───────●─── 𝟎𝟐:𝟓𝟓

◁ㅤ ❚❚ ㅤ▷ ㅤ↻ ❤️

˚₊ ꒰ა 𝐌𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

The hallway glows gold. Not metaphorically—like, it’s actually glowing. Warm light spills from the high vaulted ceiling in golden ripples, dancing across polished marble floors like sunbeams poured from the gods’ own teacup. The air smells faintly of roses and ozone, that electrifying scent that always signals Big Magic is in play. Wisps of cloud cling to your boots as you walk, soft and curling around your ankles like affectionate cats. You’ve been here before, of course training missions, mock assignments but today? Today is different.

Your wings twitch behind your shoulders, nervously folded, the feathers too pristine, too obvious. The white of them catches every shimmer of the light, like they know they’re being watched. You swear they’re sweating. Your heart drums a frantic beat in your chest, like it’s trying to take flight on its own. Because today is The Day. Your Final Field Exam. The last test before you earn your full Agent status with the Department of Matchmaking Magic.

You try to breathe. It comes out shaky.

As you round a towering marble pillar, carved with runes of fate and really unsubtle cherub motifs—you’re greeted by a glowing crystal screen pulsing with your name in delicate cursive. The calligraphy sparkles with a soft lavender hue, but the formal tone of it might as well scream: NO PRESSURE, RIGHT?

Hovering in the air beside it is a painfully pink folder. It levitates just at eye level, flipping lazily in the air like it’s bored. Then like it’s finally acknowledging your presence it zips forward and plops itself into your hands with a theatrical flourish. The corners curl slightly, as if the folder itself is judging you.

You swallow hard. Inside: the target file.

Subject: Final Assignment – Match 143-B

Status: Mortal Realm, Earth Sector #0312

Difficulty: Advanced (Emotionally Complicated)

Tools Provided:

• 1x Standard-Issue Bow

• 3x Heart Arrows (Use sparingly)

• 1x Identity Charm (Single-use disguise)

Goal: Complete a Perfect Match.

Restrictions: Do not interfere with mortal emotion.

Critical Warning: Do NOT fall in love.

Your eyes pause. That last part is underlined twice. A chill tiptoes down your spine, cold despite the golden glow.

You flip the page and freeze. The name on the assignment file flashes up like a punch to the stomach: Geum Seong Je.

You blink. No fucking way. It couldn’t be. Him? Of all people?

Your pulse goes from flutter to full-on bongo drum solo. Every nerve sparks alive. You remember that name. You remember the eyes, those glasses he wears, the way he said your fake Earth name like it mattered. You remember the trouble it nearly caused during Match 45-Z, when you maybe lingered a little too long, maybe watched him punch dudes on the corner of some aesthetic café more than strictly necessary.

Just as you're spiraling into an emotional black hole, a scribbled note catches your attention, inked in sparkly red and underlined in glitter like a warning in lipstick:

“Try not to get distracted by him this time. You do remember what happened with Match 45-Z, right?”

— Sincerely, Aphrodite 💋

Rude.

You bite your lip, trying not to smile. Classic Aphrodite. Dramatic as ever, but annoyingly right.

You close the folder and look down the rest of the hallway. At the end, a gilded archway gleams, already humming with portal magic. You can see the hazy outline of Earth beyond it—gray cityscapes, amber sunrises, and the flicker of candlelight in what might be a corner bookstore.

Your fingers tighten around the folder. Your wings ruffle once, as if bracing themselves. Your mission is simple: find the soul match, aim true, and don’t let your feelings get in the way.

But your gut is already telling you… this match? This one might break all the rules.

The portal chamber hums with ancient magic, a mix of soft harp music and the crackle of raw cosmic power. Golden rings spin overhead, like halos on espresso shots. Cupids-in-training mill around with jittery wings and last-minute pep talks. The air smells like rosewater and nerves.

Min wings you in the shoulder with a heart-shaped pillow, her expression somewhere between smug and motherly. “Girl, an all-girls school on Earth? You’re gonna combust the second someone offers you iced coffee and drama.”

You roll your eyes so hard it’s practically a flight maneuver, but a smile sneaks out anyway. There’s warmth here—deep, unshakeable warmth. The kind forged in glitter-drenched battle drills and wing-mending circles, in whispered gossip under celestial covers and synchronized eye-rolls at mandatory harp solos. These are your people. Your chaos cohort.

Hyeri sidles up, eyes serious, voice low. “Be careful, okay? Mortals don’t play fair.”

You tilt your chin, heroic and maybe a bit dramatic. You're playing it cool, like you're not already internally spiraling about the Geum Seong Je thing. “Please. I’ve read every mortal romance novel twice. I’m invincible.”

Min snorts like a disbelieving goddess. “That’s exactly what Match 77 said before she caught feelings for a barista who gave her oat milk unprompted.”

Okay, that’s fair.

But before you can lob back a snarky comeback or, y'know, beg to switch missions, the magic flares.

The scroll in your hand glows hot. The Identity Charm snaps into action. There's a rush of light, a cool blue and white color and your wings dissolve into nothing, feather by feather, like snowflakes on a summer sidewalk. The folder seals itself and disappears in a puff of glitter that smells like cotton candy and impending doom.

You barely have time to breathe.

The marble floor beneath your feet gives out like someone pulled a trapdoor in reality. The world tips. You're falling.

It’s not like a mortal fall—this is cleaner, sharper, like being sliced from one realm to another. Time and space whirl into a tunnel of color and stars and ancient lyrics you can’t quite remember. Your heartbeat tries to match the rhythm but fails. You clutch the charm against your chest like it might anchor you to something real.

Landing in the mortal realm isn’t exactly smooth.

You crash into Earth’s atmosphere with a sparkly thud, like a meteor that shops at glitter boutiques. There’s a rush of wind, a whoosh of ancient magic, and then darkness.

When you wake up, you’re sprawled on a twin mattress in a room roughly the size of a celestial storage closet. The overhead light flickers like it’s afraid of you. Your back is sore, your wings are gone, and you’re in a plaid skirt and an itchy mortal sweater vest that smells aggressively like static cling and someone else's lavender dryer sheets.

The school is just as chaotic in its elegance.

An all-girls private academy tucked into the misty mountains just outside Seoul. The buildings are old, like really old—stone corridors, arched windows, and whispers in the walls. It smells like freshly sharpened pencils, perfume that costs more than your wingspan, and centuries of untold tea just begging to be spilled.

This school might just be its own kind of battlefield.

You spend the first few days blending in like a socially awkward chameleon with your made up name “Park Yu Na”. You study how the girls talk—half gossip, half poetry. They say things like, “He liked my post but didn’t comment, which means he’s either emotionally repressed or already dating Soojin.” You take notes. You practice in the mirror. You get really good at pretending to be confused by physics and pretending to be way too interested in cafeteria menu changes.

The other students accept you. Mostly because you keep your head down, laugh at the right times, and fake being terminally obsessed with the school’s unofficial boy ranking list (you’re sorry, but "Hotness Olympics" shouldn’t have its own spreadsheet).

But deep down? You’re bored. Bored like only an undercover divine being who hasn’t shot a heart arrow in five days can be.

Because where is your target?

Where is Geum Seong Je?

You check the scroll every night in the bathroom stall with the best Wi-Fi signal. The little golden map still blinks. Still shows he’s nearby. But no name, no photo, no beacon. Just a pulsing dot that refuses to move past “You’re close. Wait.”

You consider launching an arrow at random, just to see what happens. But Aphrodite's “DO NOT FALL IN LOVE” warning plays on loop in your brain like a cursed ringtone.

It’s not until Friday afternoon, halfway through a rainy music class, that the air finally shifts.

Your hands grip the rusted rooftop railing, metal biting into your palms. The clouds overhead twist like they're holding their breath. And below you, chaos dances.

Seong Je stands in the middle of the alley like he owns it, blood on his knuckles, defiance in his spine. The kind of boy mortals write poetry about and then immediately regret dating. His shirt’s half-untucked, his lip split and already healing with the stubborn pride of someone who’s been through worse and decided to smile anyway like he is enjoying it.

The two guys flanking him—also in uniform, also bloodied—look like they just realized this isn’t going to end well for them.

And they're right. Because Seong Je doesn’t hesitate. He swings.

It’s fast, brutal, controlled. His fists speak their own language—one of warning, maybe history, or don’t touch what’s mine kinda. You recognize it. Not because you’ve seen it in your training, but because something deep and ancient in you responds to it.

He moves like a storm.

And yet when he looks up after he finishes beating up the two men, when his eyes land on you, everything stops. Like the world hit pause just for him to breathe in your presence. He freezes, for a second.

Then the corner of his mouth quirks up in a slow, knowing smirk. The kind that says trouble recognizes trouble.

“Who are you?” he calls out, voice edged like a switchblade and smooth like honey-drenched sin. A cigarette dangles from his fingers, half-lit. His uniform blazer draped like a cape, and one side of his lip is bruised. He is the very image of “do not engage.”

Your scroll lied. This is not a soul match. This is a slow-motion disaster.

Because Seong Je isn't some innocent mortal with tragic eyes and a soft heart. He’s not waiting for love. He’s the top dog of Ganghak High. Part of the Union—a syndicate of student delinquents with iron knuckles and loyalty tattoos. The kind of group that writes their homework in blood and uses lockers like coffins.

“You spying?” he asks, tone amused, but there’s something sharp under it. “Or just lost, angel?”

You flinch, not physically. Just internally. He said angel. A coincidence, probably. A joke. Right? It is.. I guess.

You force yourself to speak. “I-I’m not spying. I just.. needed some air.”

“On a rooftop. With eyes that look like they’ve seen gods.”

He blows out smoke. It coils upward, brushing the invisible string between you.

Your heart is not beating fast because of him. It’s the altitude. The weather. Definitely not the way his voice wraps around your name like he already owns it.

You should leave. You have to leave. This is not what Cupid agents do. This is not how you pass a field exam. This is exactly how Match 77 ended up crying on a Vespa in Milan.

But you don’t move. Because something in your chest has clicked out of place.

Just down below, Seong Je doesn’t look away. Maybe he remembers you too.

˚₊ ꒰ა ᡣ𐭩 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

The sky is bruised with clouds and insomnia. It’s just past midnight when you sneak out of your dorm.

You slip out of the dormitory around 12:15 a.m., hoodie over your head and anxiety practically bouncing off your sneakers. The scroll won’t stop pulsing. The identity charm is hot against your chest. You haven’t slept in two nights and your celestial brain is short-circuiting over this stupid, emotionally-complicated mortal.

You need food. Sugar. Instant noodles. Maybe something deep-fried and emotionally supportive.

So you make your way to the neighborhood convenience store—the kind that hums under flickering fluorescent lights and smells like squid chips and low-stakes rebellion.

The 24-hour convenience store glows like a portal at the end of the empty street. It buzzes softly, like it’s trying to stay awake with you. Seoul’s night air is cool, humming with traffic in the distance and the quiet loneliness that only creeps in during mortal after-hours.

You push open the glass door. The bell above the frame jingles. Just like that. There he is.

Leaning against the counter like the universe owes him a favor. Messy hair, his back half-turned, the cold light painting shadows on his face. He's dressed in black, again. Hoodie, jacket, a silver chain just barely peeking out from under his collar. He’s holding a pack of cigarettes in one hand and glaring at the clerk like the guy just insulted his ancestors.

He hasn’t seen you yet. Well you could back out and go to another convenience store, or you could pretend you’re here for tampons and run, or just teleport. No, wait. You’re mortal. Too late. He turns around to face you.

You froze at the spot. His eyes lock on yours and he recognizes you immediately.

“You stalking me?” He says it flatly, like it’s a fact. Not a question. While pocketing the cigarettes like he's daring you to say something about it.

You force a laugh, totally casual, definitely not panicking and definitely gonna pretend you don’t recognize him. Even though your stomach just did a backflip. “...No?” You wince at how unconvincing that sounds. You walk past him to grab the honey butter chips on the shelf.

He doesn't smile, but he doesn’t look away either. He leans a little against the counter like he has all the time in the world and nowhere better to be. The clerk behind the register is so tense you think he might actually burst into confetti.

He cocks an eyebrow. You hate how good he looks under this cursed lighting. “So it’s just a coincidence you’re here. Alone. At 12:17 A.M. In the exact same store I’m in.”

“I just wanted honey butter chips.” You hold up a bag like it’s holy proof of your innocence. Your hand is literally shaking. Not because you’re scared. Just match jitters. Totally normal.

He narrows his eyes. Then smirks. “Park Yu Na, right? Transfer girl from the fancy dead-girl school up the hill.”

Your mouth goes dry. How does he know your name? You haven’t told anyone. “You know my name?”

“You’re loud.” He shrugs, already walking past you, brushing your shoulder with a heat that makes your skin buzz. “And you stare. A lot.”

You spin to protest, but he’s already at the drink fridge. Grabs a coke with casual aggression. “You always walk around alone this late?” he says over his shoulder, tone unreadable. “This street is not exactly safe after midnight. Even for angels in hoodie.”

That word again. Angel. Is it a joke? Does he know? Is the veil slipping or is he just... uncannily observant and unfairly hot?

You clear your throat. “Are you always this dramatic in front of carbonated drinks?”

He snorts. For the first time, it feels like his guard lowers a millimeter. Just enough to see something flicker in those storm-colored eyes.

He pays in cash, doesn’t wait for change. As he passes—the scent of tobacco and danger trailing behind him, he pauses at the door. “See you around, transfer girl.” then he glances back over his shoulder, “Try not to get caught staring next time.”

The bell jingles. He’s gone. And you’re standing in the snack aisle with a bag of honey butter chips, a cursed scroll vibrating in your pocket, and a heart that’s beating like it just failed an ethics test.

˚₊ ꒰ა ᡣ𐭩 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

It’s the next day. Seoul’s sun is doing her most, all golden and dramatic like she knows something’s about to happen.

You’ve tracked Seong Je halfway across the city using a very not-suspicious divine scroll hidden in your mortal physics textbook.

He’s walking through a narrow side street, earbuds in, head down, looking like he’s halfway between ditching class and starting a turf war.

And beside him was your opportunity: a girl from his school. She’s walking his way. She’s cute, definitely crushable, and technically a match-compatible soul. This is your chance.

You duck behind a vending machine. The divine bow shimmers into your hand, cloaked from mortal eyes. You notch one of your three heart arrows. This time, you’re focused. Calm and unshakable.

This is it. The shot. Cupid's gonna be proud. You’re gonna make the match, pass the exam, and forget about that smirk he gave you at 12:17 A.M.

You draw back the bowstring and just as you release the string, The girl sidesteps. Right at the last second.

And you realize, with the slow-mo horror of a Greek tragedy, you just fired an enchanted love arrow directly at Seong Je’s hoodie. And the universe, because she’s petty, makes him turn around.

Your arrow whizzes past his cheek like a divine mosquito.

He catches a flicker of pink light. His eyes narrow.

You dive behind a recycling bin like a gremlin with poor decision-making skills. The bow vanishes just as he stalks toward the alley where you definitely are not hiding.

Too late. He turns the corner and stops. Arms crossed. Eyebrows raised. Confusion and suspicion battling on his stupidly handsome face. “You,” he says. “You’re literally following me again.”

You blink up at him like a raccoon caught with a cursed glowstick. “What? No. I-I was just… checking on the structural integrity of this recycling bin.”

“With jazz hands?” he continued.

You look down. Yep. Your fingers are still twitching from the leftover spellcast. Glittery.

You clear your throat and try again. “You’ve got a very punchable aura, okay? I needed to make sure you weren’t going to ruin the vibe of this alley.”

He blinks. Then he chuckles. Actually chuckles. Like, deep and low and unfair. Like someone just whispered a secret to his ribcage. “You’re the weirdest girl I’ve ever met.”

You scramble to stand, heart thumping like a drumline inside your ribs. “You haven’t met enough girls.”

His smile—fucking hell. It’s half amused, and entirely illegal under celestial law.

The sun hits him just right. You hate it. You love it. His whole face glows like a problem you want to write essays about.

For a second, he just looks at you. “Park Yu Na…” he says slowly, like he’s tasting it. “Whatever planet you’re from, stay on it. It’s entertaining.”

He turns and walks away, hands in his pockets, leaving you standing there with one less arrow and a matchless mission.

You have two shots left and also maybe a problem.

Because your heart? Well It’s probably not listening to the scroll anymore.

You return to school like nothing happened. No bow. No arrow. No rooftop flashbacks or inconveniently attractive gang leaders in your dreams.

Just you, “Park Yu Na,” the totally average, definitely-not-a-divine-being student from Class 2-B, sipping banana milk and trying not to panic.

You slip into the last class of the day, but it’s too late. Ms. Hwang, your history teacher (and mortal stress monster), pauses mid-lecture and narrows her eyes.

A chill runs down your spine like someone just cursed your GPA.

After class, she calls you over. Her tone? Ice. Her vibe? Well, betrayed middle-aged warrior queen.

“Miss Park,” she says, voice low and stern. “I checked the attendance log. You’ve missed four periods today. Without a pass. Without explanation.”

You try to improvise. “I-uh-got lost…in my thoughts?”

Well she does not laugh. Instead, she hands you a slip of shame-colored paper with nine bold letters at the top: D-E-T-E-N-T-I-O-N.

“You’ll be cleaning the gymnasium. Alone. After class.”

“Maybe while you’re scrubbing the floor, you’ll remember how to stay in school.”

You nod solemnly, clutching the paper like it personally offended your ancestors.

As you walk away, a single thought runs through your head: “Cupids, give me strength.”

After school, the hallways empty out like the soul of a group project. Laughter echoes from outside where normal students are escaping into freedom, phones out, uniforms unbuttoned, homework forgotten.

But not you.

Nope.

You push open the creaking gymnasium doors, and the smell of floor polish and faint embarrassment hits you like a divine slap.

The gym is big and echoey—high ceilings with faded championship banners drooping like tired ghosts. Dust motes spin in the slanted rays of golden hour sunlight. The silence is so loud, your footsteps sound like drumbeats.

You grab a mop from the corner, roll up your sleeves, and start scrubbing the floor like it’s responsible for your emotional damage. The echo of your own footsteps is your only company. Well—your footsteps, and the squeaky wheels of the mop bucket that is definitely not enchanted but you desperately wish it was so you could clean this place in one divine snap.

There’s something weirdly therapeutic about it. The repetitive motion. The squeak of rubber shoes. The way the sun slowly drips down the walls, turning everything a soft amber.

You curse the teacher who noticed your disappearance. Curse the scroll. Curse Seong Je and his stupidly dodgeable presence. You’re half-convinced the gods are watching this like a telenovela.

“Clean the gym,” they said.

“No powers,” they insisted.

“Reflect on your actions,” they scolded.

You're reflecting, alright. You’re reflecting on how incredibly not smooth you looked eating floor after that arrow fumble.

You’re halfway through grumbling about Seong Je ruining your life when you hear it. A sound that is barely there. The door creaking open.

You straighten your posture, heart skipping. “Sorry, gym’s closed,” you call out, not looking.

“Didn’t ask,” a voice replies. It was low, unbothered, a little amused and a little TOO familiar.

You spin around, mop still in hand. And there he is, Geum Seong Je. In your school gym. Like some delinquent prince who got lost on his way to a street fight and decided to visit your personal hell instead.

He's wearing that same loose uniform jacket, slouched over one shoulder like the laws of gravity don’t apply to him. His hands are in his pockets. His hair's messy, like he either just woke up or just won a fight.

Your throat goes dry. “What are you doing here?” you hiss, trying to look casual while holding a mop like a confused magical girl.

He shrugs, walking in like he owns the place. His eyes flick lazily across the gym, then settle on you. “Was in the neighborhood.”

“The neighborhood?” you echo. “This is a private girls’ school. You’re not even allowed on the sidewalk.”

“Guess I’m breaking more than just hearts now.”

You nearly drop the mop on the floor. He smirks. Like he knows. Like he’s teasing you. Like this is a game and you’re already losing—dang it, he is right.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” you say again, but quieter now. The gym feels smaller with him in it. Warmer. Unbearably so.

He takes another step forward. His boots squeak softly on the waxed floor. There’s something unreadable in his gaze now—no smirk, no jokes. Just this quiet, curious look.

“You looked pissed earlier,” he says. “Didn’t like seeing you that mad. Figured I’d check on you.”

Your brain short-circuits. Because Geum Seong Je—Ganghak’s top dog, Mr. I smoke under streetlights and fear nothing—is here. In your school. After hours. Because of you.

“So you stalked me this time,” you say, desperate to deflect the panic in your chest.

“Maybe,” he says. “But at least I didn’t bring a bow.”

Your face heats up. You want to crawl into a locker and never return. “I wasn’t trying to shoot you,” you mutter, returning to the floor like it’s safer to mop than to feel things.

There’s silence. Then a soft footsteps. He walks closer. Closer still. Until you feel him behind you—close enough that your heartbeat does the Macarena.

“You’re weird,” he says again, voice quieter this time. “But you’re not boring.”

And then, just like that he’s gone. Like the smoke from his cigarettes. Like the ghost of a rooftop stare.

You’re left in the gym, mop in hand, floor half-cleaned, heart absolutely losing its damn freaking mind. And outside, the sun finally sets.

Later That Evening. The gym smells like sweat and lemon disinfectant, and your limbs feel like noodles left too long in boiling water. You mop through the final square foot of parquet flooring like a war veteran scrubbing trauma into the floorboards.

As the last light fades behind the bleachers, you drag yourself toward the hallway—sore, hungry, and still trying to figure out what just happened. Did Seong Je really show up? Did he say he was worried? Nah, there’s no way he will be worried about you. Your thoughts are full of ONE incredibly illegal boy with sinfully good looking face who definitely should not have shown up today, but somehow did. You try to shake it off. You’re a celestial agent. A divine intern. A professional. You are here for one reason, and that reason is not the slow curve of Seong Je’s grin.

So why is your heart doing pirouettes?

You make your way to the third-floor corridor where the dorm lockers are—dimly lit, quiet, that weird echo of sneakers and whispers long gone. Your school bag’s right where you left it, tucked neatly inside Locker #413. You yank open the creaky metal door and then you see it.

Something’s there. Sitting right on top of your books, perfectly centered, like it’s meant to be noticed.

It’s not flashy. No glitter, no love note, no magical sparkle. Just a single bottle of banana milk. Your favorite brand. Chilled. Still sweating from the cold. With a folded scrap of paper taped to the side, messily ripped from a math workbook.

Your heart stutters. Your breath catches. Your fingers feel too clumsy as you peel it off and unfold it, revealing just three short words in jagged, all-caps handwriting:

“EAT SOMETHING, WEIRDO.”

— SJ

Because the handwriting is sharp and angular—like someone who doesn’t write things down unless it’s detention-worthy.

Because he watched you mop a gym for an hour and said nothing, then vanished. Because you know. You just know. Your fingers tighten around the note.

The banana milk feels like it’s pulsing with meaning. Like this silly, stupid can is the heaviest thing in the world.

You glance around the hallway—but it’s empty. Silent. Like the world is holding its breath.

Somewhere outside, the wind picks up. A door creaks. The universe winks and for a moment, you’re not a Cupid on assignment.

You’re not “Park Yu Na.” You’re just a girl in a hallway with a fluttering chest and the tiniest, quietest smile. You tuck the note into your skirt pocket.

Hold the banana milk like it’s sacred. And walk back to your dorm room in a daze, head full of nothing but echoes of a smirk, a voice like honey and knives, and three handwritten words that shouldn’t mean anything but somehow already do. You’re supposed to be making a match. Instead, it feels like you’re the one being hunted, by a boy who doesn’t believe in rules. A boy with a lighter in his pocket and danger in his smile. A boy who just left a piece of your heart in your locker.

˚₊ ꒰ა ᡣ𐭩 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

The Next Morning. You wake up still clutching the banana milk like it’s your emotional support potion. The note’s under your pillow. Your dreams were a weird montage of gym floors, smirking gang leaders, and mop handles turning into bows.

You try to play it cool at breakfast. Try not to replay the moment he looked at you like you were a puzzle wrapped in glitter and defiance. Try not to think about the way the note still smells faintly like cigarette smoke and bubblegum.

Try not to feel anything. You successfully failed in it.

By the time second period rolls around, you’re fully zoning out, doodling tiny bows in the margins of your literature notebook when Sun Hee (your mortal friend) slides into the seat beside you like she’s carrying government secrets.

She leans in, eyes wide. “You will not BELIEVE what I just heard.”

You blink, brain definitely already malfunctioning. “Is it about me? Wait, is it about Seong Je? Wait—no. Don’t tell me.” You told yourself.

She tells you anyway. Because best friends are built for betrayal. “So apparently one of the girls from Class 3-A saw this dude sneak into the school yesterday after class. Tall. Wearing a glasses. Definitely not regulation uniform. She said he climbed over the west wall and bribed the janitor with a carton of Marlboros and a packet of Choco Pies.” You drop your pen on your desk after Sun Hee stopped talking.

Sun Hee’s eyes narrow. “Why do you look like someone just slapped you with destiny?”

You stare at your desk, brain buffering.

Because of course. Of course Seong Je didn’t walk through the front gates like a normal person. Of course he scaled a wall like a delinquent Spider-Man and bribed the janitor like it was nothing.

Your mind flashes back to last night: the casual way he leaned in the doorway. The perfect timing. He didn’t stumble across you.

He planned it. He knew where to find you.

That’s when it hits you—harder than any arrow you’ve ever fired, he asked around. He probably knew exactly what room you’d be cleaning. Probably watched the sunset from some rooftop just waiting for everyone else to leave. Probably dropped the banana milk into your locker after you went to shower.

And now? Now your heart is a war zone and your face is 90% blush.

Sun Hee pokes your cheek. “Are you okay? You look like you're having a slow-motion anime realization.”

You shove your notebook into your bag, whispering under your breath, “I think I’ve made a terrible mistake.”

Because this was supposed to be an assignment. A mission. No interference. No EMOTIONS.

And yet somewhere in between missed shots and banana milk, Seong Je has gone from target to threat level swoon.

And worst of all? You only have two arrows left and you can’t waste those two for now. You can’t fail.

Classes had just ended, and while some students headed back to their dorms, others left campus to take a walk or do their own thing. You gave a wave to Sun Hee and Mi Rae as they made their way to their dormitory, while you stepped off campus, planning to visit that bookstore you had discovered during a stroll through the neighborhood.

A few minutes ago, it started to rain when you got out of the book store. Not the gentle, romantic kind either—the full-blown "sky had a breakdown" kind. Sheets of water hammer the pavement as thunder rolls low, like the heavens are warning you that you're about to do something very stupid.

Which checks out. You duck into the nearest open place: a tiny, grimy convenience store with flickering lights and a faint smell of wet cardboard and boiled egg.

You're soaked, shivering, and very, very aware of the fact that your divine assignment is still very unfinished.

That’s when you see him, sitting at the back ramen bar, hood down, hair damp from the rain, sleeves pushed up. He’s slouched like the chair offended him, one knee bouncing. The steam from his instant noodles curls around him like smoke around a dragon.

You freeze in the aisle, half-hidden behind a rack of seaweed snacks. But it’s too late. He sees you.

His lips pull into a lazy smirk. “Sit. I don’t bite.”

You arch a brow. Your hair drips onto your collar. “Liar.”

Still, your legs betray you. You sit. Across from him. Because there are no other open seats.

He eyes your soaked sweater vest and plaid skirt like it’s some kind of comedy show. “Do you always show up looking like a drowned honor student?”

You look down at your soggy uniform, then deadpan, “Only on days when fate curses me with your presence.”

He laughs through his nose, takes another bite. then slurps the noodles.

You fold your arms, cold and snarky. He’s warm and smirking. It’s unfair.

“Why do you always glare like that?” he asks, mouth half-full. “You look like you’re about to report me to the principal.”

You rest your chin on your palm. “Only if the principal takes bribes in cigarette packs and misplaced rage.”

That does it. He chokes. Mid-slurp. Noodles halfway to his mouth. He coughs, actually startled, and you blink, watching him hack up his pride as he slams his chopsticks down and wheezes out, “You–what?”

You blink innocently. “Sorry, too much truth?”

And then he laughs, really laughs. Loud, full-body, real laugh. Not the smug chuckle. Not the polite scoff.

This one? This is real. Teeth. That gummy smile he has. Head tilting back slightly, like your words genuinely tripped him up.

And your heart? Your divine, professionally detached, this-is-just-an-assignment heart? Yeah, that bitch goes: oh no.

Because in that one laugh, you can see the boy behind the title. Not “Top Dog of Ganghak.” Not “Target 143-B.” Just a guy. Eating instant noodles at 11 P.M in a convenience store that smells like despair and bad life choices.

And the way he’s looking at you now? Like you caught him off guard.

He taps his chopsticks on the table, leaning forward just a bit. “Park Yu Na, huh? You’re not as soft as you look.”

You smirk, mimicking his posture. “And you’re not as scary as you act.”

He hums at that. His foot bumps yours under the table—definitely not by accident.

Lightning cracks outside.

But inside? There’s a strange kind of truce.

Steam rising between you. Warmth spreading slowly and beneath it all, that one last arrow still burns quietly against your spine—like it’s waiting. Like it knows: You’re in trouble.

˚₊ ꒰ა ᡣ𐭩 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

It’s a lazy Sunday, and the city is humming like a half-sung lullaby. Neon lights haven’t fully flickered on yet, and the sky is a soft, pale gray—clouds hanging low like the world’s keeping a secret.

You didn’t mean to run into him.

You were just grabbing mandu from that tiny shop by Hongdae Station with your friend Sun Hee, the one that smells like heaven and deep-fried regret.

Just walking. Minding your own divine business. Hoodie up, earphones in. Mortal camouflage at full power. That’s when you spotted him.

He’s dressed in that casual, slouchy way that still somehow screams danger—black cargo pants, black hoodie, chain peeking out. The kind of boy your mother would tell you to avoid but your heart writes poetry about anyway.

He’s not alone. A few other boys hover nearby—also in black, shoulders heavy with Union swagger. One’s laughing. Another’s passing a soda can. Someone’s talking to him. Every single one of them radiates that “we-run-this-side-of-Seoul” energy.

And yet—he stands out, out of all men in this country. Even when he’s silent. Even when he’s doing nothing at all.

Leaning against a railing like it’s a throne. Cigarette in one hand, loose and forgotten. Expression unreadable. Hair ruffled—ahh fuck. Eyes sharp beneath those glasses.

You panic. Not because you’re scared. But because something in your stomach flips the second you see him. So you do what any undercover magical agent would do: You pretend not to see him. Head down. Hoodie up.

You cross the street like he’s just any random boy, you would stumble upon to. Just anyone. Like your heart didn’t do the cha-cha the last time he called you “weird.”

You’re walking through an alley shortcut behind a fried chicken place when Sun Hee stops to check her phone. You didn't even look up to take a glance at him, just kept your head down.

But he’s not listening on the others. Because his eyes are on you. The second you look up, he sees you and for a breathless, shattering second, the whole street slows.

When Sun Hee stops checking her phone, she drags you along with her. Your feet keep walking—barely. You force your expression to stay blank. Pretend you don’t see him. Pretend your heart didn’t just short-circuit. Pretend you didn’t replay that banana milk note seventeen times last night.

Just turns his head slowly and tracks your steps like he’s memorizing your path. Like you’re the only thing in his line of sight. Like everything else around him—the noise, the gang, the world—has gone fuzzy. And even though you’re not looking straight at him, you feel it.

The weight of his gaze. The invisible string pulling taut between you in that crowded street.

The fluorescent lights above the little shop buzz faintly, casting a sleepy warmth on the steaming trays of odeng and the rows of bottled drinks lined up like soldiers.

You and Sun Hee squeeze into the corner booth with barely enough space for your trays and elbows. She’s halfway through a sweet potato hotdog and mid-rant about your group project partners being “criminally unserious.”

You mostly nod, trying to focus, but your mind’s already drifting again—thinking about arrows and assignments and a certain boy with bed eyes—help and that annoying smirk that lingers in your thoughts way too long.

Sun Hee finally leans back with a sigh, tapping her chopsticks against her empty bowl. “You sure you’ll be okay getting home by yourself?”

“It’s fine,” you say with a weak smile. “Just need to catch a cab. I’ll text you when I’m back.”

She zips up her pink hoodie and gives you one last suspicious squint, then pulls you into a hug that smells like tteokbokki and vanilla shampoo. “You’ve been acting weird lately. Like… staring into space, sighing dramatically, blinking slow.”

“I blink at a totally normal speed.”

“Liar.”

“Text me, or I’m calling the cops. I mean it.”

You laugh, squeezing her tighter before she jogs off into the crowd, waving with both hands like you’re shipping off to war. Her voice echoes faintly, “BYE, YUNA!! DON’T GET KIDNAPPED!!”

The shop quiets after she’s gone. The crowd thins. The warmth fades.

You step out into the street, pulling your jacket tighter around you. The night has turned cold, the rain thinning into mist. Your phone refuses to load the taxi app.

You’re standing alone beneath a flickering streetlamp, phone held high like it’s a prayer to the cab gods. But it’s late, and the Seoul sky is dark and sulky. Every car zooms past without slowing. The cold has started to creep under your cardigan, and your patience is two seconds from cracking.

You sigh, stepping closer to the curb. That’s when the growl of an engine pulls up beside you. Your breath catches before you even see him.

And there he is. Seong Je, in a black windbreaker and helmet slung on his wrist. His eyes meet yours beneath the glow of the streetlight, unreadable—but curious. Annoyed. Maybe a little amused. “What, you just gonna stand here ‘til sunrise?”

You stiffen, trying for dignity despite the shivers in your knees. “I’m waiting for a cab.”

He glances up the street. Empty. Predictable. “No cabs come here this late. You’ll freeze your wings off.”

Your stomach tightens at wings. You almost ask if he knows—but his tone is still casual. Teasing. “Romantic,” you say, voice dry. “I was hoping a rich vampire would adopt me.”

He swings a leg off the bike, kicks the stand down.

He jerks his chin toward the alley. “Come on. I’ll give you a ride.”

You have self-respect, training, immortality, and standards. “You’re insane if you think I’m getting on that death trap.”

He shrugs like the universe bores him. “Then walk.”

And he’s already straddling the bike again like he knows you’re going to fold. He starts strapping on his helmet like this is already decided. Like he’s giving you a choice that isn’t one. Like he already won.

You look at the empty road stretching behind you. Then at him. The way his hair curls slightly at his temple. The glint of mischief in his eyes. The open space on the bike.

You curse your dignity and climb on. The leather of the seat is cool beneath you. Your legs tremble as you swing them over—either from the cold or the fact that you’re now effectively hugging a delinquent with a smile that ruins lives.

You don’t look at him when he holds out the spare helmet, and he doesn’t comment when your hands hover—just slightly—before they land on his waist.

You hesitated at first. His voice, low and unbothered, “You’ll fall off if you don’t hold on.”

You grumble under your breath. “Cocky much?” Still, your arms move. Wrap slowly around his waist, and that’s when your heart decides to do parkour. Full flips. Vaulting emotional hurdles.

Landing in full chaos mode.

Because his back is warm. His breath visible in the cold night. And with this closeness, you can feel his laughter when he mutters, “Thought so.”

His windbreaker is warm. His body is even warmer. “This is a mistake.” You think. But your fingers curl around him anyway.

The engine growls to life like a living thing, loud and unapologetic, and your heart immediately launches into a parkour routine you did not authorize.

Wind screams past your ears. Your hair lashes wildly, and the city becomes a blur of neon and shadows. You hold tighter. You have to. For safety.

The city streaks by in blurs of gold and blue. Your hands fist in the fabric of his jacket.

For a moment you forgot just for a second, that you’re a Cupid with rules. With boundaries. With two last arrows that absolutely should not end up in your own ribcage.

Because right now, you're just a girl on a bike, heart loud in her ribs, flying through a night that feels like the beginning of something you were never meant to have.

And maybe that’s why it feels so good.

˚₊ ꒰ა ᡣ𐭩 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Just two nights later, you were just trying to clear your head.

The mission’s falling apart. Your bow’s been glitching and the feelings you’re not supposed to have? Yeah, they’re starting to tangle around your ribs like ivy you can’t rip off.

So you took the long way back to the dorms, past the neon signs and fried food carts, blending into the hum of Seoul’s nightlife. Hoodie up, head down, pretending that everything’s fine.

You pause outside a bookstore, pretending to check your phone, when you hear it, footsteps. Then a hand wraps gently, just barely, around your wrist. Not enough to hurt. Just enough to stop you.

You turn, and he’s there. Seong Je. Backlit by a flickering streetlamp. His shadow stretching long across the pavement. One hand shoved into the pocket of his jacket, the other still holding you—loose, like he’s giving you a choice to pull away.

But you don’t.

He leans in, close enough that you can smell the ghost of smoke on his collar, that soft scent of citrus and street asphalt and something unplaceable—something him.

His eyes catch yours, and they are so, so dark. He says it. “You trying to disappear on me, Yu Na?”

Soft enough that it feels more dangerous than if he’d yelled. It’s not a question, not really. It’s a dare wrapped in velvet.

Your throat tightens. Your heartbeat goes sprinting somewhere north of logic. “I wasn’t–” you start, but your voice catches like a record scratch. “I wasn’t disappearing. I just…”

He quirks an eyebrow. Just a little. The tiniest smirk threatening the corner of his mouth.

“You saw me that day on the street,” he says, voice calm, eyes unreadable. “I was with people,” he adds, tone casual, but there's a flicker of something raw in his eyes. “Didn’t think I had to call your name just to get you to look at me.”

You feel your cheeks heat, the shame crawling up like fire under your skin. “I was in a hurry–”

“Bullshit.”

Your breath hitches. He steps just a little closer, his shoulder brushing yours. You’re cornered now—physically, emotionally, celestially. There’s a wall at your back, him at your front, and nowhere to run that won’t take your heart with it.

“You looked scared,” he says quieter now. Like it costs him something to say it. “Not like... scared of me. Just scared. Like you were running from something.”

He pauses. His jaw flexes once. “I don’t like when people run.”

For a second, his expression cracks. You see it: the flicker of something real. Concern, maybe. Interest, also maybe. Something soft that has no business living behind a gaze like his.

Your lips part to answer, but the words don’t come. Because he’s still watching. Because the world is holding its breath around you.

And then he lets go of your wrist. Slowly. Like he didn’t really want to. Like it meant something.

He glances down the alley once, then back at you. “You shouldn’t walk alone at night,” he mutters. “Especially not in this part of town.”

He starts to turn, pulling up his hood. Then stops. Looks back at you one last time. “If you’re gonna run, Yu Na… run toward me next time.”

And then he’s gone. Just like that. Into the night like a whisper you’ll replay a thousand times. You’re left staring at empty space, heart pounding, hands shaking, soul spiraling and suddenly, nothing about this mission feels simple anymore.

˚₊ ꒰ა ᡣ𐭩 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

The school bell rings like it’s mocking you. Clear, loud, and entirely too cheerful for someone who just had a borderline soul-shaking encounter with Seoul’s most beautiful delinquent boy in a back alley under questionable lighting conditions.

You sit down at your desk. You pull out your notebook. You take a deep breath. “It’s not a crush,” you whisper to yourself like a girl possessed.

Sun Hee glances over from her seat beside you and squints. “You okay?”

“Fine. Totally fine, like super fine.”

Sun Hee raises an eyebrow. You are absolutely not fine. Because every time you blink, you can still see him. The way his voice wrapped around your name like some wish. The way he said, “Run toward me.” The nerve of that line. The audacity. The drama.

Your pencil snaps in half. You try to refocus. You write in your notebook:

• Match 143-B

• Geum Seong Je

• Objective: Perfect Match (not with self. OBVIOUSLY.)

You underline it aggressively. Then underline it again.

Because this is your Final Field Exam. This is your divine responsibility. You are not just a girl. You are not “Park Yu Na.” You are a Cupid. A professional. A winged, sparkly, arrow-wielding being of sacred romantic efficiency. You are not falling for your target.

Except. Your fingers drift to the pocket of your blazer where the banana milk note still sits, slightly crumpled. You haven’t thrown it away. You should. You know you should. But you don’t.

Instead, you stare out the window as the teacher drones on about equations, and your brain replays the way his voice dropped half a register when he said your name. The way he looked at you like he could see straight through the mortal illusion, like he knew you were lying.

You clench your jaw. “Nope,” you whisper. “Not a crush. Just an obstacle. A very... annoyingly symmetrical obstacle with cheekbones carved by petty gods.”

You look down at your notebook again. You’ve accidentally doodled little hearts around his name. You slam it shut.

“Girl,” Mi Rae whispers from the row behind you, leaning forward. “Are you okay? You look like you're losing a mental battle with your own hormones.” You forced a laugh, then shook your head in response.

The bell rings. Class ends—finally. You pack your books like they’ve personally betrayed you, slam your locker shut, and stomp down the hallway with the focused fury of someone definitely not in love.

You don’t see him that day and it shouldn’t bother you.

But it does. And that bothers you even more.

You are not catching feelings. This is not a crush. You are going to finish this mission, shoot your arrows, match him with some nice emotionally available human, and be done.

You are a Cupid, and Cupids do not fall in love. Right?

˚₊ ꒰ა ᡣ𐭩 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

You’re yanked without a single warning right out of your mortal hallway, mid-snack. Your banana milk explodes mid-air, freezing in space as you're teleported through a glittery wormhole of pink smoke and passive-aggressive harp music.

You blink and suddenly you're standing in a giant heart-shaped chamber, glowing with gold filigree and dangerous levels of scented candle energy.

Columns made of rose quartz. Floors of cloud marble. The ceiling? A living mural of every successful match in history, currently judging you.

At the far end of the chamber, lounging sideways on a throne upholstered in actual sunset? Aphrodite.

Wearing a white silk dress and ten feet of attitude. Perfect hair. Glass of wine. Eyeliner is sharp enough to end wars. “Yu Na,” she says, not looking up from her enchanted scroll, “darling… let’s talk.”

You smiled nervously. You are sweating. Celestially. “Hey, boss! You’re looking radiant as always. Like, wow. Is that a new aura or–”

“Save it.” She sips in her glass wine. “We need to discuss Match 143-B.”

Your soul flinches. “Oh! Yeah. Totally. I mean, everything is going great. Super smooth. No feelings involved.”

She finally looks up. One arched brow. A long pause. The room goes quiet. Even the portrait of Helen of Troy in the corner slowly turns her head like, “Girl, really?”

Aphrodite raises her scroll and begins reading out loud, “Excessive proximity to target. Unnecessary rooftop contact. Improper bow usage. Incomplete emotional barrier. Possible romantic attachment. Underlined. Twice.”

She lowers the scroll, folds her hands, and gives you that look, that divine, slow-burn, that mom-knows-you-screwed-up-but-wants-you-to-say-it gaze. “Yu Na. Sweetheart. Do you remember the number one rule?”

You wilt slightly. “Don’t… fall in love with the target.”

“Mmhm, and what do we not do?”

“…Catch feelings for the top dog of a high school gang while wearing a mortal disguise during our final exam?”

“Exactly! We do not do that.”

She sighs and leans back like you’ve aged her 300 years. “Do you know what happened the last time a Cupid fell for a mortal? We got Romeo and Juliet. Do you want Romeo and Juliet again? Because I don’t have the emotional bandwidth for that mess.”

“I-it’s not a crush! I’m just… emotionally confused because of his–! Nevermind.”

She narrows her eyes. “Yu Na, your arrows literally curled away from him mid-shot. You’re the only one in the department whose magic has romantic stage fright.”

Your mouth opens. Closes. Opens again. You are toast. Celestial toast.

“You have 72 Earth hours to complete this assignment,” Aphrodite says, rising from her throne, heels clicking like judgment. “Or I pull you out and reassign the case. To Eros.”

You gasp. “Eros?? He once matched a squirrel with a lamppost!”

“And yet he doesn’t fall for his assignments.”

She waves a sparkly red finger. The scroll vanishes. The throne starts to fade. “Fix it. Or I will.”

“But what if–”

“Nope. Shhh.”

“But–”

“Shhh.”

The air swirls. Your vision goes blurry.

And just before you’re pulled back into the mortal world, you hear her final words echo through the golden mist, “And stop daydreaming about his stupid face. It’s unbecoming of a goddess.”

You wake up in class. Face down on your desk. Covered in a thin layer of glitter.

Mi Rae pokes you with her pen at the back. “You good?”

You turn your head to her, “No. Aphrodite’s gonna kill me.”

“Dude, what?”

The trees are in full bloom. Petals rain down like confetti for a wedding that hasn’t happened yet. Sun Hee and Mi Rae went to the ladies restroom for awhile leaving you alone in the corridor.

The air is warm, soft. It smells like sunshine, powdered chalk, and the lingering scent of sakura tea from the vending machine in the teacher’s lounge.

You’re watching from the second floor window. Your hand rests on the cool glass, but your heart? It’s burning.

Below, Seong Je stands by the main courtyard fountain, surrounded by a few students from another class. He’s still in uniform, half-unbuttoned shirt, his blazer thrown over his shoulder like he’s in a drama and knows it.

You see it.

The way the girls laugh a little too loud when he talks. The way one of them, Ji Hae, you think, with the long braids and overly shiny lip gloss—leans a bit too close, twirls her hair around her finger like it’s a spell.

And the worst part? He’s letting her. He’s not smirking. Not brushing her off. He’s listening. You can tell. He’s asking about you. Your pulse spikes. The Cupid in you wants to leap for joy. Target is showing interest. Receptive. Progress achieved. Initiate pairing sequence.

But the girl—the you you’re pretending not to be?She wants to curl up and disappear.

Because this should be a win. It should be a perfect step toward the match. You should be pulling out your last arrow, taking aim, and finalizing the assignment.

Instead…You feel like you’re choking on flower petals.

Each laugh from the girl beside him is a tiny dagger. Each glance he gives her, no matter how casual, feels like a betrayal your heart has no right to feel.

You shouldn’t care. You can’t care.

But you do. Because you know what his laugh sounds like up close now. You know how his voice drops when he’s being serious, how his shoulders tense when he’s trying not to show concern, how he calls you "Yu Na" like it means something.

And watching him, down there, in this picture-perfect postcard moment? Hurts.

A petal floats past your cheek. You swipe at it, too fast—angry at how delicate it all is.

Behind you, the empty classroom feels too quiet, too heavy. The world outside is all color and warmth. But you? You're stuck in grayscale.

You press your forehead against the window, whispering to yourself like it might make it true. “This is the job. That’s all. That’s all this is.”

Your fingers twitch near your bag. The bow's in there. So are the two arrows.

You could shoot her. Right now. Make them a perfect match. Seal the deal. End the mission.

But your hands won’t move. Instead, you just watch. As she laughs again, steps closer. As Seong Je finally lets out a small, tired smile—not the one he gives his gang boys, not the dangerous one from the alley, but something softer. Something rare.

And your heart breaks. Quietly. Completely. Like a blossom falling with no one to catch it.

˚₊ ꒰ა ᡣ𐭩 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

You clutch the bow tight, your fingers trembling just enough that you pretend it’s from the breeze.

The arrow glows faintly in your other hand, pale pink light pulsing like it knows what you're trying to do and isn’t happy about it.

Below, through the open roof gate, you can see the courtyard. Cherry blossoms still hang like a spell. Seong Je is standing near the vending machine, arms folded, head tilted as Ji Hae chats beside him again—bright, beaming, hopeful. She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear like it’s rehearsed. Like she wants this to go somewhere.

It should work. It has to.

You take a shaky breath, nock the arrow, and draw the bowstring back. It hums under your grip. “This is the right choice,” you whisper. “This isn’t about me.”

Ji Hae is sweet. Smart. She’s the type who organizes classroom cleanup even when it’s not her turn. She’d be good for him. Ground him. Love him the way a mortal can.

And most importantly—she isn’t you. You close one eye, steady your aim, and took a deep breath. Jihae’s laugh rings out, warm and close.

You let go of the string. The arrow flies and then—it stops. Wait what—It fucking stopped mid-air. Like it slammed into an invisible wall.

The glow flickers then snaps back like a rubber band, missing both of them entirely and slamming into the side of the vending machine, where it fizzles out in a puff of smoke and divine sass.

You stare, breath caught in your throat. “No. No, no, no.”

You grab your bow tighter, scanning for anything that could’ve blocked the magic, but nothing’s there. Nothing logical, anyway.

The magic didn’t bounce because it was blocked. It bounced… because his heart wouldn’t open to her. He’s immune. Not to love. Just to everyone else. Even her. Even now.

You sag against the roof railing, heart pounding so hard it might break your ribs. “He’s not supposed to be immune. He’s human. He’s supposed to fall for someone.”

You look down again—and that’s when it happens. He looks up. Eyes sharp beneath those glasses, face unreadable. But you see the flicker of something like he felt the magic shift. Like he knows someone was watching. He sees you. Not clearly. You duck back too fast. But still. For a heartbeat, a flicker, a spark—you were connected.

And suddenly the weight of the two remaining arrows in your satchel feels unbearably heavy.

You have one last try. One last shot to finish this assignment.

But what if… the only one he could ever fall for is you?

And worse—what if you're already too far gone to stop it?

˚₊ ꒰ა ᡣ𐭩 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

You materialize inside Aphrodite’s private suite of chaos and charm: a place where silk drapes ripple with no wind, and heart-shaped clouds hover like bored interns.

The air smells like roses, vanilla lip gloss, and ancient power. Everything here glows. Even the floor is radiant, like walking on crushed starlight.

But nothing shines brighter or more threateningly than the goddess seated before you on a velvet fainting couch that she’s never once fainted on.

Aphrodite doesn’t look up immediately. She’s painting her nails with some divine shimmering lacquer that changes color depending on your emotional damage level.

When she finally speaks, her voice is smooth and dangerous, like velvet hiding a knife. “So…You used one of your last two arrows… and it failed.”

You wince. “It bounced off him. Like he rejected it before it even reached his heart.”

She raises a brow, now fully looking at you. Her gaze is sharp. Regal and a little smug. “And you tried to match him with someone else?”

You nodded fast. “Jihae. She’s sweet. Pretty. Human. A good match. He should’ve liked her.”

Aphrodite’s smile is small and lethal. The kind that says, oh honey, you sweet naïve disaster.

She leans forward, elbow on her knee, chin in her palm, eyes sparkling with something that makes your stomach twist. “Then you already know what the match is.”

You blink. “No,” you say too fast. “That’s–he can’t–it’s not me. I’m Cupid. I’m just supposed to guide them. I don’t–”

She cuts you off with one perfectly manicured finger raised. “The arrow doesn’t lie, sweetheart. It never has. And if his heart won’t open to anyone else…”

“Well.” She shrugs, lips curling. “Maybe it’s because it already has.”

You take a step back like her words physically hit you. Your bow shifts on your shoulder. You feel the weight of the last arrow against your spine.

Only one. One more shot.

And suddenly it doesn’t feel like a tool of love—it feels like a choice, a test, or a trap. “This isn’t allowed,” you whisper, your voice smaller than you want it to be. “We’re not supposed to–”

Aphrodite rolls her eyes, dramatic. “Please. As if any great love ever followed rules.”

She gets up, walking toward you in heels that click like divine thunder. “You think I built this entire department to push paperwork and throw random teens together at prom? No, darling. I built it to make stories worth writing down.”

“And yours?” She taps your chest, just over your heart. “Might be the most human one I’ve seen in centuries.”

You want to argue. To say you’re not in love. To say this is just magic and proximity and the fact that he smirks like sin and listens like he means it. But you don’t. Because deep down, you know.

He was never just a target. He was always the risk.

And you? You were never ready for what loving a mortal would feel like.

“You have one arrow left, little archer,” she says, her voice like velvet and finality. “Choose wisely.”

And just like that, you’re alone again. Only now, your heart’s louder than ever, and the final arrow in your quiver feels warm—like it knows where it wants to go.

˚₊ ꒰ა ᡣ𐭩 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

The crowd buzzes with soft laughter and the pop of soda cans. Strings of paper lanterns flicker overhead, casting warm glows on the rows of booths, cotton candy stands, and prize-filled claw machines. It smells like roasted sweet potatoes, sugar syrup, and something heartbreak-shaped.

You stand at the edge of the square—hidden in the soft halo of a cherry tree, one hand tight around your bow.

He’s here. Leaning against a pillar near the game booths, bored and gorgeous, his school uniform rumpled like he fought three boys in it earlier and probably did.

He’s alone. Vulnerable. For once, not surrounded by the other Union boys. His usual wall of noise and swagger is… quieter tonight. Like even he can feel the hum of something bigger, something fated.

Your fingers slide up to your final arrow. It glows faintly in the evening light, the pulse of it syncing—traitorously—with your heartbeat.

You breathe in. Lift the bow.

The arrow floats into place, drawn like it already knows its target. His name echoes in your head like a prayer. “Seong Je.”

One clean shot. One perfect hit, and his heart will open—just as the laws of magic decree.

You stare down the line of the bow. Your aim is steady. But your soul isn’t. “If I use this,” you whisper, the words trembling from your lips like smoke, “I’ll never know if it was real.”

Because the arrow chooses for them. But you? You wanted him to choose you.

Your breath hitches. Your hand shakes. And just as you're about to lower the bow—she appears in the moment, Jihae.

Her smile is radiant, nervous in that way mortals get when they hope too hard. She says something you can’t hear. Seong Je raises a brow, vaguely polite.

Then she leans in. She was about to kiss him. So sudden, it is too fast and too forced.

You inhale sharply. The bow drops a little, the arrow’s glow pulsing like it’s holding its breath.

But he turns his face away. Steps back, hand gently catching her wrist before she makes contact. Not cruel, not cold. Just distant.

His eyes are already searching. Past Jihae. Past the booths. Across the crowd. Like he’s looking for someone else.

Your fingers loosen on the string, heart hammering so hard it hurts.

He doesn’t even realize what he’s doing. But his gaze skips over every student, every light, every sound—until it lands in your direction.

You duck behind the tree fast—too fast, you almost slipped on the grass.

The arrow dims slightly in your hand. Like it, too, isn’t sure anymore and neither are you. You slide it back into your quiver.

Because if he’s already searching for you… What if the match was never magic? What if it was always… real?

You’re still behind the cherry tree, hand pressed to your chest where your heart is playing whack-a-mole with your ribs. The arrow hums faintly in its quiver, as if it, too, is stunned by what almost happened.

Then a cloud of glitter suddenly appears beside you. The scent of ancient roses and bad decisions. “You’re prolonging this for drama and I LOVE IT.”

Aphrodite appears at your side like she never left, draped in a silk suit that looks too expensive for Earth and too fabulous for a reason. Her heels don't even touch the ground—she floats, all smugness and starshine.

“Really, darling. The tortured hesitation. The Forbidden love. The half-lowered bow under the cherry blossoms? Iconic.” She sips something pink and bubbly from a champagne flute that absolutely did not exist a second ago. “But unfortunately, we’re moving on to the finale now.”

You blink. “What?”

She claps once and then he appears. Another Cupid. Tall, cold-eyed, his wings sleek and too perfect. No warmth. No humor. No hesitation. He doesn’t even acknowledge you—just steps past with mechanical grace.

“You’re compromised,” he says flatly, not bothering to look your way. “You’re being replaced.”

Your gut twists. You grab your bow instinctively. “Wait, no–You can’t just–!”

But he already has his own. It was already being pulled. The first arrow was fired straight into Jihae’s heart. She flinches as it hits, eyes going wide with wonder and awe, pupils dilating with the sweet, unnatural rush of magic. “Wha…?” she whispers, voice dreamy. “Seong Je…”

You take a step forward from the Cupid trying to stop him. “Stop–don’t–!”

The second arrow was released. It hits Seong Je square in the chest. He jerks like it knocked the wind out of him. Blinks rapidly. Breath stalling. He looks up, across the crowd, at Jihae.

Not at you. Never at you.

Aphrodite hums a little tune as if none of this is soul-shattering, as if she didn’t just throw your heart into a blender with strawberries and a broken contract.

She finally turns to you, sipping the last of her celestial drink. “Now your assignment is done,” she says, voice bright, decisive, cruel in its gentleness. “You can collect your diploma. Come along, sweetheart.”

She gestures toward the glowing portal behind her—already swirling open like a beckoning goodbye.

But you—you can’t even move. It’s like you're paralyzed in there. You just stand there, mouth dry, heart sinking like a stone through the sea. Watching Seong Je.

He looks at Jihae, a smile begins to form, it was slow—soft in a way that isn’t his. It’s Cupid-soft, artificial, borrowed, and most importantly it was forced.

“But that’s not real,” you say, barely above a whisper. “That’s not him.”

Aphrodite gives a tiny shrug, eyes sparkling. “No, darling. But it’s what the file wanted, isn’t it? You were supposed to match him. Now he’s matched. This is the clean ending.”

But nothing about it feels clean. Nothing about this feels like love. It feels like theater.

Seong Je’s hand brushes Jihae’s. He’s smiling—but you know him better than that. That smile is wrong. It doesn't reach his eyes. He doesn’t even know why he’s smiling.

You’re just standing in a garden of blossoms, with a full heart and an empty hand, staring at the boy who no longer sees you.

The last arrow in your quiver hums softly, unused, undeniably yours. You could still shoot it. You could ruin everything, or you could follow the goddess. Get your diploma. Graduate. That’s all.

But one truth now roots itself deep inside you like the petals beneath your shoes:

You never wanted to pass.

You wanted to matter.

You turn your head to the portal and start making your way there.

Aphrodite walks ahead of you in heels too loud for the quiet in your chest. Her perfume leaves a trail—roses, smoke, and the bitter scent of endings.

You trail behind her, stiff, eyes glassy. The crowd fades behind you. The festival sounds dim like someone turned the world’s volume knob down.

Seong Je is gone now. Or maybe not. Maybe he’s still there. Standing beside Jihae under strings of golden lights, smiling with someone else’s heart.

You don’t dare look back.

“You did well,” Aphrodite says, not looking at you. “You didn’t let your feelings interfere. You were right to walk away.”

You say nothing. Because if you open your mouth, your voice might break. And gods forbid a Cupid cries before graduation.

The portal pulses gently. The colors shift—gold, lilac, then soft rose. It hums with magic. With home.

And yet, you paused right in front of it. Right on the threshold of eternity and closure.

Your diploma floats gently in the air beside you. Sealed in pink. Gilded with divine calligraphy. Sparkling like it’s proud of you.

“You’re free now,” Aphrodite says. “No more assignments. No more temptation.”

You nod once. But something deep in your ribs is screaming. Quietly, but insistently.

“That wasn’t love.”

“That wasn’t real.”

“I wasn’t done.”

And somehow you wonder, If he ever turns around tonight… If he ever asks where you went…If he ever remembers the weird girl with wings in her eyes and a bow she never fired… Will he know it was almost fate?

Aphrodite offers her hand and you take it.Step through the portal. Now everything… blurs.

Back in the Divine Realm, The hallway isn’t glowing gold this time.

It’s quiet. Dim. The clouds beneath your feet are soft but cold. The Department of Matchmaking Magic feels too polished. Too clean. Like nothing in it ever hurt.

You hold your diploma like it’s heavier than your bow ever was.

Around you, Cupids celebrate. Wings flutter. Laughter fills the space. Someone just got their perfect match approved and they’re crying happy tears.

But you? You sit on a bench made of mist and memory. Bow across your lap. Arrow untouched. One name still echoing in your heart.

˚₊ ꒰ა ᡣ𐭩 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

You’re dragging your tired, emotionally compromised self past filing cabinets that file themselves, still in your post-diploma haze. Hair unbrushed. Wings tucked in like they’ve given up on believing in miracles.

You’re in the admin wing of the Divine Realm, sipping an ambrosia latte. You’ve been assigned light clerical duty while they "process your graduation paperwork" Which means in divine-speak for "we're giving you busywork so you stop brooding in front of the mortal observation mirrors."

You’re sorting scrolls. Matching files. Y’know, doing the grunt work you thought you’d never go back to now that you're officially Cupid-certified.

That is, until one scroll starts glowing violently pink. Spins in a full dramatic circle and then smacks itself against your forehead.

You catch it before it hits the cloud-floor. It glows hot—not hot pink like usual. Not gold either. But red. Urgent Transfer Request.

You blink. The scroll unravels by itself like it’s got nothing better to do but ruin your peace.

The ribbon unfurls by itself and hovers midair with a flare of gold script.

REQUEST FOR INTERREALM TRANSFER

Name: Seong Je (성제)

Mortal ID: [REDACTED]

Requested Department: Matchmaking Magic

Reason for Transfer: "Unfinished Business/Unresolved Emotional Link."

Priority Level: Urgent.

Divine Approval: Pending.

Additional Notes: “If she’s not going to tell me the truth, I’ll find it myself.”

You just stand there—freeze. Your heart slams against your ribs so hard you swear the file cabinets pause in their floating routine like, “Girl, WHAT??” Your coffee hits the floor. “No,” you whisper. “No no no no—how did he even find this place?”

The room falls away—because how? HOW?

You didn’t leave a trace. No charms. No enchantments. The last arrow was never fired. You didn’t say goodbye. You weren’t even real to him.

So why? Why is his name here? Why is he asking for you?

“Holy Olympus,” you whisper, heart leapfrogging into your throat. “He remembers.”

Just then, a cherub courier floats past with a lollipop in one hand and a clipboard in the other.

“Yo, you’re being summoned again. Aphrodite’s office. Something about an ‘unresolved situation’? She sounds way too excited.”

You stagger to your feet, the scroll still hovering like it's waiting for your soul to catch up.

Because it’s happening. He's looking for you. Not the fake name. Not the Cupid. Not the mission.

You.

And across realms, timelines, rules, and magic—he sent for you. The last arrow on your back shimmers softly. Maybe fate wasn’t finished after all.

You drag yourself up the spiral of love-infused cloudsteps toward her office, your steps a mix between “I just got hit by a truck” and “I will throw hands with a literal goddess.” The scroll is still hovering beside you like a nosy bird, pulsing red like it’s counting down to something.

The doors open themselves and you immediately squint from the sight in front of you.

Because her “office” has somehow transformed into a beach cabana. There’s a sky that bleeds sunset gold into lavender waves. Seagulls caw overhead (you’re pretty sure they’re enchanted and probably trained to harmonize). Pink tropical drinks with curly straws float midair. It smells like sun-warmed salt and forbidden romance.

Aphrodite lounges under a parasol in a silk robe, her heart-shaped sunglasses glittering. She takes one look at your face and beams. “Aww, look who got emotionally wrecked by their own target!”

She claps like you just won a reality show. “Cupid of the Year, baby.”

You stare at her. You are vibrating with twelve different emotions and three unresolved heartbreaks. “Why is his name in here?” you ask. “How is he even able to be here?”

Aphrodite shrugs lazily, flicking her nails and summoning a file out of thin air. It lands on the cocktail tray next to her. Big gold lettering, all caps:

MATCH 143-B

STATUS: COMPLICATED

She sips her champagne like she’s watching the best drama on divine television. “He filed an Interrealm Request. Personally. Used an artifact that hasn’t worked since the Trojan War. We didn’t even know mortals could get those anymore. He broke four laws of emotional containment and walked straight through a temporary rift near Mount Halla.”

You blink, how the hell did he end up on a Mountain. Mount Halla? That’s in Jeju. That means… “He crossed a whole country for me?”

Aphrodite sips on her champagne, “And two realms. Don’t forget the realms, darling.” she added, while making a piece sign of her hand, symbolizing the word “two”.

Your head spins. You clutch the back of a floating heart-lounger like it’s a life preserver. “Why now?” you whisper. “I never fired the arrow. I never said anything. He shouldn’t even remember me.”

Aphrodite stands now, her face softening—just a little. She taps the file. It flutters open, glowing with rows of shifting fate-threads. “Because you may not have shot the arrow, sweetheart… But you aimed it. And sometimes? That’s worse.”

You freeze. Because deep down, you know what she means. You felt it. Every time his gaze found you in a crowd. Every time your name almost slipped from his mouth. Every time you almost let yourself believe…

Aphrodite sighs and then, like she’s bored of being sentimental, “Now. Due to this messy, delicious twist, we’re activating a Cupid Clause. Technically, he’s requesting closure. Which means we have to respond.”

Your eyes widen. “Closure?”

She grins. “You get to see him again, darling.”

You lift your eyebrows, “Wait, what?”

She waves her hand, and another scroll appears—this one gold and sealed with something that feels like fate humming through your bones.

“One last assignment. This time? No bow. No arrows. No lies. Just you and him. And a question.” Aphrodite said, while smiling softly.

You whisper, “What question?”

She smirks over the rim of her drink. “Do you still love him?”

˚₊ ꒰ა ᡣ𐭩 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

The sky over Jeju is painted in soft pastels, the kind of pink and orange that only happens right before the sun sinks into the sea. Wind rustles through blooming cherry blossom trees that stretch like a dream across the temple courtyard where you land—barefoot, breathless.

Your wings are gone. Your bow? Left behind.

All you have is your uniform, a satchel slung over your shoulder, and the name he whispered when he looked up at the sky like he was begging the gods for one more try.

The air is thick with sakura petals, brushing against your cheeks as if even the wind wants to soften this moment. You’re not sure what you’re walking toward—closure? Consequence? Catastrophe?

But you walk anyway and then you see him.

He’s standing alone under the largest cherry tree, back to you, hood pulled low. Jeans. Scuffed sneakers. A silver ring glinting on his finger.

But when he hears your steps crunch on the stone path, he turns, slow, eyes wide, lips parting, and the second his eyes lock onto yours, everything around you… stops.

No petals, no breeze, no sound. Just you and him suspended in whatever this is. This unspoken thing that crossed dimensions and beat time and rewrote rules.

His voice is rough when he finally says it, “So you’re real.”

You try to smile. It breaks halfway. “More or less.”

“You lied to me.”

You flinch. “I know.”

“You disappeared.”

“I had to.”

He walks toward you slowly. Step by step, like each one hurts. Like he’s scared if he moves too fast, you’ll vanish again. “But I remembered. Everyone else forgot you, but I couldn’t. I didn’t. Even when I tried.”

You’re shaking, but not from fear. “Why?” you whisper.

He stops a breath away. You can see the shadows under his eyes. The cracks in his armor.

But also the way his hand twitches, like he wants to reach out but doesn’t know if he’s allowed.

“Because you ruined me,” he says, voice low.

“Because every time I closed my eyes, I saw you. Because when I kissed other girls and I looked for your reaction, and.. Because I caught myself smiling at the sky like a fool. Like maybe you were still watching.”

You want to cry. You want to scream. You want to rewind to that day on the rooftop and do it all differently. But you can’t. So instead you say, “I was supposed to match you. That was the mission. That was all it was supposed to be. But then you smiled and made some dumb jokes. And looked at me like I mattered. And still, I never used the last arrow.”

He blinks. “You didn’t?”

You shake your head. “Because I wanted to know if you’d fall in love with me without it.”

He stares. Then he exhales—like he’s been holding that breath for eternity. “I did.”

And then he steps closer.

The cherry blossoms swirl around you like confetti from the gods, and his hand comes up to brush a petal from your hair, fingers lingering like they’ve been waiting for this exact moment.

His eyes are soft—too soft. “So what now?” he whispers.

Your heart aches. But this time, you smile through it. “Now we see what love really is... without magic.”

The sea roars beside you, wild and untamed, crashing against the jagged rocks with the kind of rage only heartbreak understands. The salty wind tangles your hair. Your cardigan flaps through the wind, and parked right in front of you, leaning—His matte black motorcycle.

Seong Je straddles it like he owns the night. Helmet hanging off the handlebars. Hair a mess. Leather jacket thrown over his uniform like rules were never part of his vocabulary. His rings glint against the throttle like danger has jewelry taste now.

“You getting on or what?” he says, like it's nothing. But his voice is lower, rougher. The wind can’t even carry it right.

You hesitate. “I’ve never been on one before.”

He raises a brow. “Guess there’s a first time for everything.” Then that smirk carves across his lips like it was forged in rebellion. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep you safe.”

You climb on to the motorbike. You shouldn’t still be wanting to memorize how his shoulders feel under your palms, how the space between you feels like magnetic static, like lightning waiting to happen.

But you do—you always do, you hold onto his shoulders.

He revs the engine. It purrs like a beast.

And when he takes off, it’s not chaos. It’s flight.

Wheels eating up the coastal road, wind peeling laughter from your chest, cliffs and cherry blossoms whirling by in a pastel blur. The ocean to your right, Seong Je in front of you, and the sky above bleeding every color it knows how to feel.

Then he pulls over, right at the edge of the world.

You’re both breathless, just by the scene in front you. He pulls off his gloves with slow fingers. Leans back against the bike. Looks at you like he’s figuring out the ending of a poem he never meant to write.

“I didn’t think I’d get to see you again,” he murmurs.

“I didn’t think you’d remember me,” you whisper back.

His eyes flicker—dark, golden, deep. “Can’t forget what rewired my whole heart.”

And then he pulls you in. Gently. His hand finds your jaw, thumb brushing the corner of your lip like he’s memorizing it. Like he’s measuring the distance between craving and kissing. And then finally he leans in.

The kiss is slow at first. Careful. Like he doesn’t want to scare you away. But then something snaps—the kind of hunger that builds after months of almosts, after watching, waiting, hurting. His hand slides into your hair. His lips press firmer, warmer, like he’s trying to anchor you to this moment.

You kiss him back and it’s not magic—not the divine kind.

Because it’s real. It’s every mortal emotion tangled in heat and saltwater and the sound of the sea waves.

When he finally pulls away, he rests his forehead against yours. “Still think this was all a mission?” he asks.

You smiled at him. Eyes were glossy. “No. I think this was fate with attitude.”

note: yow everyone HAHAHAH how do y'all feel about this oneshot? well, yk I think this is going to be my last last post before school finally starts on monday 🥀🥀 I hope you guys enjoy reading this because this is really really long MWA 😚😝😼

[munchhmm]

Glass Will Tell

Don't get too excited, more to come •̀ ᴗ - newest request will be posted tomorrow, thank you for your patience!

MDNI!!

Law using his test subject (˶˃⤙˂˶)

Pairings: Law x F!reader

Warnings: SMUT and heavy object play.

Word count: Around 600.

Law’s hand dips into the cold water, test tube clinking against the ice that was added for an extra edge. You’re shaking on the table, knees held to your chest as the breath in your throat chokes before releasing quickly, anticipation washing over every cell like they were drowning. Latex gloves cover his dark tattoos, making you slightly frustrated but still willing to do anything his heart desired; a smirk permanently pierced his lips like the world would stop before he changed expressions. The rules were simple: if you could “take” a 5ml test tube and fill it with your fluids, he would take it easy on you that night—never explaining how this would go down. Agreeing to your boyfriend’s requests should always come with a warning, a good one at that. There was no one else on Earth that could make you feel the way he does. Every touch, word, and breath gives you another reason to live. Never doubting his trust, he has all of you. Once the glass cylinder was tempered to his liking, Law walked over to you—slowly and calculated. Watching the way your face never knows what’s coming next. “Spread. Now.” His voice is low and protective, but even with the command, his hand slides between the lower half of your body before a reply. This is his property. The air is crisp against the inner half of your thigh—little did you know, that was the least of what Law had intended for the night. Water dripped off the small tube onto a metal tray with a louder tap than expected. The look of complete control took over Law’s face as he dipped down, pressing the opening of the tube to your entrance. “Beg for it.” Slickness covers your folds and thighs, practically begging for the touch of the glass itself. No words came out—your mouth hung open for a moment before closing again, trying to figure out how languages even worked. Law grabs your thigh suddenly, but not forcefully, dragging the tube along your lips and using it to force them open. “Use your mouth or I’ll use it for you.” This time it’s serious—no more babbling excuses. “Please, do whatever you want.” You still had no idea what his plans were, but whatever it was, it was going to be worth it. Without any warning, Law gently presses the rest of the tube—opening first—inside you, using his other gloved hand to flick your clit firmly. “How are you feeling? Any discomfort?” He’s a doctor, maybe too good of one—always comforting first. Your head was too clouded to answer again, overcome by the way your whole body felt more alive than you ever have been before. After a few moments, the words “Mm… good.” were all that was heard, leaving Law satisfied with his task. Slowly the tube leaves your body, his other hand still rubbing you slowly as he examines the vial, capping and preparing it to be preserved. The feeling of being left empty made you want to whine and beg, but you knew that would only get a punishment. Besides, you were more intrigued with what Law was doing. “It’s for research.” The tube is placed in his desk drawer, other nearby tools set to be cleaned as he shoots you a sly smirk. You clothe yourself, blushing as Law rinses and disinfects every scalpel and tweezer in the room. As promised, the night was easy—just soft lounging on the cabin bed as the stars took over the sky, both of you falling asleep tangled with the idea of owning each other. Literally.

[dragonmarquise]

How to Deal with Windows 10/11 Nonsense

This is more for my own reference to keep all of this on one post. But hopefully others will find this useful too! So yeah, as the title says, this is a to organize links and resources related to handling/removing nonsense from Windows 10 and Windows 11. Especially bloatware and stuff like that Copilot AI thing.

First and foremost, there's O&O Software's ShutUp10++ (an antispy tool that help give you more control over Windows settings) and App Buster (helps remove bloatware and manage applications). I've used these myself for Windows 10 and they work great, and the developers have stated that these should work with Windows 11 too!

10AppsManager is another bloatware/app management tool, though at the moment it seems to only work on Windows 10.

Winaero Tweaker, similar to ShupUp10++ in that it gives you more control over Windows to disable some of the more annoying settings, such as disabling web search from the taskbar/start menu and disabling ads/tips/suggestions in different parts of the OS. I think ShupUp10++ covers the same options as this one, but I'm not entirely sure.

OpenShell, helps simplify the Start Menu and make it look more like the classic start menu from older versions of Windows. Should work with both 10 and 11 according to the readme.

Notes on how to remove that one horrible AI spying snapshots feature that's being rolled out on Windows 11 right now.

Article on how to remove Copilot (an AI assistant) from Windows 11. (Edit 11/20/2024) Plus a post with notes on how to remove it from Windows 10 too, since apparently it's not just limited to 11 now.

Win11Debloat, a simple script that can be used to automatically remove pretty much all of the bullshit from both 10 and 11, though a lot of its features are focused on fixing Windows 11 in particular (hence the name). Also has options you can set to pick and choose what changes you want!

Article on how to set up Windows 11 with a local account on a new computer, instead of having to log in with a Microsoft account. To me, this is especially important because I much prefer having a local account than let Microsoft have access to my stuff via a cloud account. Also note this article and this article for more or less the same process.

I will add to this as I find more resources. I'm hoping to avoid Windows 11 for as long as possible, and I've already been used the O&O apps to keep Windows 10 trimmed down and controlled. But if all else fails and I have to use Windows 11 on a new computer, then I plan to be as prepared as possible.

Edit 11/1/2024: Two extra things I wanted to add onto here.

A recommended Linux distro for people who want to use Linux instead of Windows.

How to run a Windows app on Linux, using Wine. Note that this will not work for every app out there, though a lot of people out there are working on testing different apps and figuring out how to get them to work in Wine.

The main app I use to help with my art (specifically for 3D models to make references when I need it) is Windows only. If I could get it to work on Linux, it would give me no reason to use Windows outside of my work computer tbh (which is a company laptop anyways).