#and now they’re both immortal and magical | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

heliads · 5 months

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Can you do Peter Pan x reader OUAT? Peter goes to the modern world with Emma, Snow, David and them as they are looking for someone. He meets this girl and takes an interest to her. He’s never seen someone with facial piercings, and dyed hair before, they come to realize she is the girl they’ve been looking for.

'magic finds magic' - peter pan

masterlist

Peter Pan is leaving Neverland. Worse, he’s leaving Neverland alongside Snow, Emma, David, and Hook. In terms of traveling partners, this has got to be the lowest of the low. However, the sand in Peter’s immortal hourglass is running out, and his first attempt at prolonging his life with the heart of Henry Mills didn’t exactly go according to plan. It’s this or nothing, even though Peter is starting to wonder if it would be better to just die than put up with these people any longer.

Never in his life did Peter Pan think he’d be working with the good guys. But never in his life did Peter think he’d be dying, either. A few compromises will have to be made in the name of preserving Peter’s everlasting life, and if that means he has to put up with some princesses and pirates for a few days, so be it. In no time at all, his immortal life will be restored, and he can go back to Neverland and put all of this behind him. Hopefully.

Peter was supposed to die back on Neverland. He was running out of time, anyway. He had set up the perfect scheme: kidnap Henry, disorient the boy’s rescuers on his island long enough to win the Heart of the Truest Believer, and cut the organ out of the boy’s chest if necessary. He’d almost gotten away with it, too, except he was foiled at the last minute. Heartbreaking. So unlike him.

For some reason, though, he hadn’t been left to die in the caverns of Skull Rock. Emma and the others had needed him, for some odd reason, and although none of them trust him in the slightest, they do trust Peter’s single-minded selfishness to keep himself alive. So they claim, at least, and so they had gotten a spell to give Peter one more week of life in exchange for help. If this plan works out, Peter will have a way to continue his immortal life without needing to murder Henry. If it doesn’t, or if he betrays them, he’ll die anyway.

He can feel it now, the pang of his close call with death. There’s a pain in his chest that wasn’t there before, a certain weakness in his lungs. Peter gets tired more easily. He feels– well, he feels like Henry and Emma. He feels mortal. Like he could die at any moment.

Peter has, obviously, thought about double-crossing them, maybe even triple-crossing them, but it’s no use. He feels shakily mortal right now, and Peter does not much enjoy the possibility of his own demise. This is the closest he’s ever come to being beaten, and Peter hates the feeling. He’ll have to play along for now, but after that, he will have his revenge.

First, though, Peter has to do what the others want. They’ve been careful to reveal as few details to him as possible, but the idea is solid. There’s a magical person somewhere in the modern world, in a city far from Storybrooke. This person is like the embodiment of a true love’s kiss spell, designed to renew hope in storybook characters through small acts of power that ultimately drive two needed people together. They’re like a guardian angel of those on the brink of destruction, which is exactly what Peter needs right now.

Peter has plenty of time to mull this over. They’ve forced him into a terrible, small room with awful carpets– an apartment, Emma called it– while they talk out what to do with both him and their missing spell-person. Peter is trying to focus, but he’s getting stared at by Henry Mills again, which is absolutely ruining his mood.

“What do you want?” Peter asks, glaring at the boy.

Henry just goggles back at him. “Don’t you feel bad for trying to kill me?”

Peter snorts. “Why would I do that?”

Henry shrugs. “You pretended you were my friend. I know you like the other Lost Boys on your island, I thought you would have felt bad for killing one of them. I guess not.”

“I don’t feel bad about killing someone so I would live,” Peter says, then wonders why he’s arguing with a child. “Go preach your morals to someone who wants to listen.”

“The others are busy,” Henry pouts.

Peter eyes him unhappily. “And what, I’m your best option for polite conversation? You really are desperate, aren’t you?”

Henry rolls his eyes. “I’d say you’re desperate. You’re the one who’s still talking to me.”

Peter can’t really argue with that, so he deftly changes the topic of conversation before Henry starts looking proud of himself again. “Tell me about our target again. You said you saw them before?”

“Only in a dream,” Henry admits, “but it was a clear dream, I swear. I saw a girl who looked about your age. She seemed like any other teenager, but there was something about her that was different. The way she spoke, maybe, or the glint in her eyes. She was magical, I’m sure of it. She can save Storybrooke.”

“And save me,” Peter reminds him. “That’s the important part.”

Henry rolls his eyes again. If he keeps that up, they’re going to get stuck like that forever. “Yes, I know, you’re only interested in keeping yourself alive. So long as it helps us find this girl, though, I don’t care.”

Peter leans forward. “What’s your plan for finding this girl, then? A little scouting party? This city is big. You’ll never find her.”

Henry shakes his head. “Magic has a way of finding magic. Somehow, our paths will cross.”

“That’s a terrible strategy,” Peter grouses. Why is he entrusting his life to this boy again? He remembers something about having no other options, but it doesn’t seem as good an excuse right now.

“Ask the adults, then,” Henry tells him, and gestures towards the miniscule apartment kitchen, where Emma, Snow, Hook, and David are currently huddled around a table, talking in hushed voices about what to do.

Not wanting to mess with the kid anymore, Peter pulls himself to his feet and heads over. “Tell me you have a plan,” he says.

The adults look up at him. “Find the girl,” Hook says shortly. “That’s our plan.”

Peter scoffs. “You could search this city for months and not find her. What if she doesn’t want to be found? If this girl has any brains at all, she’ll know that people will want her magic and she’ll hide. It’s what I would do.”

Emma sighs. “We don’t even know if this girl knows that she has magic. She’s probably just living an ordinary life, and we’re about to drag her out of it with all of our trouble.”

“Don’t tell me you feel bad for her,” Peter scolds her. “You want this, don’t you? So go get it, or I will.”

Snow tries to tell him to calm down, but David, so quick to anger when it comes to Peter, surges out of his chair. “How about you do something helpful and think with us instead of just insulting us?”

“I will do something helpful,” Peter informs him. “I’ll find her first.”

With that, he lunges for the apartment door, and is out of the tiny room and down the hall before they can stop him. Peter hears the thunder of footsteps after him, but he hurries down the stairs and out of the building. He has the advantage of being quick on his feet; if Neverland taught him anything, it’s how to run when you don’t want to be found.

Peter emerges into the bright sunshine of the city and stops dead in his tracks. He’s not used to the modern world, how the knives of its buildings slash up into the sky, how loud it is with those cars and signs and people. Peter swears he can even see metal things in the sky, soaring along predestined paths. It’s all so much compared to the world he used to know. No wonder some of the others had a hard time adjusting. His mortal heart lets out a pang of sympathy.

The door of the apartment building flies open, revealing Emma and the others hot on his trail. Peter curses under his breath and takes off in one direction, hurtling around pedestrians and shooting down the sidewalk. He heads for smaller streets, hoping to lose them in a swarm of alleyways. The others, more used to the terrain of the modern city, are gaining on him, and Peter is just starting to think that he’ll never be able to shake them when someone grabs him and pulls him into a nearby building.

Peter’s first instinct is to defend himself, but when he isn’t attacked, he realizes that the stranger is only trying to help him. There’s a window just to his left, and Peter watches Emma and the others appear seconds after him. They didn’t see him enter the shop, and keep sprinting down the road in the direction they thought he’d gone. Peter waits a few more intense moments, then decides that he’s lost them for good and turns back around to see who’s gone to the trouble of rescuing him.

He’s greeted with the sight of a girl about his age. She’s eyeing him cautiously, although the corners of her lips begin to prick up with a wicked grin. “Sorry for the rough introduction, but you looked like you needed some help,” she tells him.

Peter lets out a short laugh. “I’m glad to be rid of them, that’s for sure.”

The girl arches a brow. “What, did they catch you shoplifting? I’ve never seen people run that fast unless they were getting chased by the cops.”

Peter narrows his eyes, trying to figure out how on earth he would lift a shop, then decides it’s probably some slang term he doesn’t know. “Something like that,” he says evasively.

He studies the girl’s face to see if he’d answered correctly, and, judging by her impressed grin, he had. “Nice,” she says. “I’m Y/N, by the way.”

“Peter,” he replies. He gets the urge to introduce himself as he usually would– Peter, Peter Pan– then remembers at the last second that Emma had warned him about telling people who he was. Apparently, telling people he was a fictional character in their world wouldn’t go over too well.

“Peter,” the girl repeats. “Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, too,” Peter says, and realizes belatedly that he means it. He feels like how he had at the start of it all, when the Lost Boys had first started appearing on this island, but this feeling is far stronger. He wants to get to know this girl. He certainly doesn’t want her to leave.

“I’m new to the city,” he says abruptly. “Any chance you could show me around?”

Y/N laughs, surprised. “You’re new and you’re already in trouble? You’ll fit right in, Peter.”

He grins, in on the joke a half beat late. “I like to have fun, that’s all.”

“Well,” Y/N says, starting to lead him back towards the door of the shop, “I like fun, too. Maybe we should stick together.”

“I’d like that,” Peter says, then wonders why he’s being so honest all of a sudden. When he sees Y/N’s smile– real this time, not sarcastic or joking, but genuinely because of him– he thinks he knows why.

The two of them step back out into the light. “Where to first?” Peter asks.

“I was going to ask you that,” Y/N replies. “What do you want to do? Sightseeing, maybe? We can get some food, or just talk.”

“Anything,” he says. He’d follow her anywhere. The feeling in him right now is like nothing he’s ever felt before. The pain in his chest, Peter realizes with some surprise, is gone. He feels immortal. Like living in this one moment could last forever.

They end up spending the next few hours together. Y/N shows him around the city, taking Peter to her favorite spots. Peter stares at the vast cityscape and finally starts to understand why someone might choose the modern world over the natural one. He’ll always pick Neverland first, of course, but seeing the world through Y/N’s eyes, it makes sense.

The two of them get along like a house on fire. Y/N’s got this rebellious streak to her that fits in perfectly with Peter’s, well, Peter-ness. No joke is too dark, no sarcastic comment too caustic. They feel the same. Peter doesn’t think he’s ever met someone who thinks so much like him.

As the sun starts to set in the sky, Peter feels his spirits sinking. He doesn’t want to let go of this day, not when he knows it can never happen again. He’s supposed to be finding Henry’s spell-girl, but all Peter wants to do is spend more time with Y/N.

His mood is especially ruined when they turn a corner and find Henry Mills walking towards them. Peter’s eyes widen and he tries to steer Y/N back in the direction they’d come, but it’s too late. Henry lets out an audible gasp and starts hurrying towards them.

“Peter,” Henry calls out when he’s close enough to talk, “We’ve been looking for you all over! Where have you been?”

Y/N glances at Henry dubiously. “Who’s this?”

“My little brother,” Peter blurts out.

At the same time, Henry chimes in, “My friend from school.”

Peter shoots the younger boy a quick glare, then turns back to Y/N. “Both, actually. He’s my step-brother. Recent marriage. We’re still getting acclimated. Our family is a little chaotic.”

“You can say that again,” Henry mumbles. Peter fights the urge to butcher him.

While Peter silently advises himself on why murder would be bad at a time like this, Henry stares openly at Y/N. All of a sudden, the boy’s mouth hangs open. “Oh my gosh, it’s you.”

Y/N’s brow furrows. “Excuse me?”

All of a sudden, Peter feels a sick sensation in his stomach. It couldn’t be. It couldn’t.

“You’re the girl from my dream,” Henry announces. “We’ve been looking for you.”

Y/N looks back at Peter. “What’s he talking about?”

The open, carefree expression, which had been on her face all day, is starting to be replaced with deep, unsettled fear. Peter hates to see it directed at him. “There’s something I need to tell you,” he begins. “Something about yourself.”

“You’re sounding a little creepy right now,” Y/N warns him. “Get to the point.”

“Alright,” Peter says. “You’re magical. So am I. We need your help to break a curse and save my life. How about that?”

Y/N shakes her head quickly. “This is crazy. Magic isn’t real.”

Peter can’t lose her, not like this, so he leans forward and holds out his hand. A ball of light appears inside his cupped fingers, glowing and bright. It’s a simple charm, one of the first he learned, but it has the desired effect.

Y/N stares at it, transfixed, and when she speaks again, her voice is hushed. “That’s impossible.”

“Nothing is impossible,” Peter says. “Not magic. Not even the fact that you would find me in this city by accident. Magic is drawn to magic.”

Y/N’s eyes slowly raise to meet his. “This is real, then. I have magic.”

“You have magic,” Peter confirms. “Come with us, we can show you. They’re good people, Y/N. You can trust them.”

It’s the closest he’s ever come to honesty. For once, Peter isn’t playing a game. He isn’t trying to trick Y/N over to his side. He just wants her to be safe, and he knows that isn’t through lies.

Y/N smiles at him. “I trust you, Peter. That’s enough for me.”

She reaches over and takes his hand. Now that he’s focusing on it, Peter can feel the slow loop of her magic when they touch. It feels like power, but more than that, it feels like life. A life with her, maybe. A life for both of them.

ouat tag list: @loveanimals0000, @eclliipsed, @w1shes43, @lost-ender

all tags list: @wordsarelife

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minhosbitterriver · 1 month

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💻 𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝐔𝐏 𝐓𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔 ( enhypen )

❛ In which you’re the idol and they’re your fanboys.

𝐞𝐧𝐡𝐲𝐩𝐞𝐧 + gender neutral reader ೯ ( 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ) 12.8k

꒰ 💌 ꒱ ミ You guys should know that I am a firm believer that these boys would be so dorky if they weren't idols — well, dorkier than they already are, honestly. This piece was requested by a lovely Anon! Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated! Requests are currently open! Please enjoy! ── ( 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 )

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Y/N is an idol, the members of Enhypen are your fanboys finally getting you to acknowledge their existence one way or another, it's all just very cute honestly, Jungwon and Riki don't meet you in person but they still lose their minds over it, let me know if I missed anything!

( 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 ) ( 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 & 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ) ( 𝐢𝐧 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬 ) ( 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 )

꒰ 🫙 ꒱ ミ Tip Jar!

All of the members are found below the cut!

이희승 ── LEE HEESEUNG.

Heeseung sat at the edge of his bed, the dim light casting a gentle glow upon his contemplative figure. His fingers, delicate yet reverent, traced the edges of the well-worn scrapbook that lay open before him. This cherished volume, a tapestry of memories meticulously compiled over the years, held within its pages a mosaic of his unwavering admiration. It brimmed with a kaleidoscope of photographs, clippings, and handwritten notes, each piece meticulously documenting the journey of his favorite idol—none other than you.

He recalled the precise moment when his world had been irrevocably altered. It was on the eve of your debut, and there, amid the swirling anticipation and the haze of his youthful excitement, your voice had first reached his ears. It was a sound both ethereal and powerful, a melody that wove itself into the very fabric of his being. From that instant, Heeseung was ensnared by the magnetism of your presence. He had watched, spellbound, as you evolved from a burgeoning talent into a celebrated artist, each phase of your journey captured and immortalized within the pages of his scrapbook.

Tonight was imbued with a sense of magic and anticipation that seemed almost palpable. Heeseung, a dreamer in the truest sense, had finally managed to secure a coveted ticket to your fan meeting—a wish he had harbored fervently since the inception of his admiration for you. The moment was the culmination of countless hopes and whispered promises to himself.

As he navigated his way through the bustling streets toward the venue, his heart danced with a symphony of excitement and nervous energy. Each step felt like a step toward a long-awaited destiny, a convergence of past dreams and present reality. The evening air was crisp, carrying with it the faint murmur of fellow fans, their voices mingling in a harmonious chorus of shared anticipation.

Clutching his treasured scrapbook tightly, as though it were a talisman of his devotion, Heeseung took a steadying breath. The pages within were a testament to his journey alongside yours, a journey now culminating in this singular, momentous occasion. He joined the serpentine line of eager fans, each person a reflection of his own fervent longing, all awaiting the cherished moment when they would come face-to-face with you.

The room vibrated with a palpable energy, a living, breathing entity fueled by the collective enthusiasm of the gathered fans. Conversations swirled like a vibrant tapestry of shared experiences and heartfelt recollections, each voice contributing to the rich symphony of admiration that filled the air.

In this dynamic atmosphere, Heeseung, a seasoned devotee whose affection for you had long been unwavering, naturally assumed the role of storyteller. His presence was a comforting beacon for the newer fans, a guide through the labyrinth of your artistic journey. With an air of gentle authority, he began weaving tales of your early days, his voice imbued with a warmth that spoke of deep, personal connection.

He unfolded his beloved scrapbook with reverent care, revealing its pages one by one. Each page was a canvas of nostalgia, adorned with a mosaic of photos capturing the essence of your first performance, the raw, unguarded moments during concerts, and the newspaper clippings that chronicled your ascent to stardom. The images told a story of transformation and triumph, each snapshot a frozen moment of time that illustrated your remarkable rise. As Heeseung shared these treasures, his eyes sparkled with the joy of reminiscing, his words painting a vivid portrait of your evolution that captivated the newer fans, drawing them into the rich tapestry of your shared history.

When the moment arrived for Heeseung to finally meet you, his heart pounded with a fervent rhythm, echoing the excitement that surged through his veins. As he stepped forward, the world seemed to narrow down to the singular focus of your radiant presence.

You looked up from behind the table, your eyes brightening with a warm, welcoming smile that seemed to illuminate the room. The recognition in your gaze was immediate and profound, as your eyes fell upon the familiar scrapbook cradled in his hands. The tender acknowledgment in your expression conveyed an unspoken connection, bridging the gap between your storied past and this intimate, cherished encounter.

"Hello," Heeseung began, his voice carrying a steady confidence that belied the fluttering butterflies in his stomach. The words emerged with a sincere warmth, as if each syllable was carefully crafted to convey the depth of his feelings.

"I’m Heeseung," he continued, offering a small, genuine smile. "I’ve been a devoted fan since your very debut." His gaze lingered on you, revealing in his eyes the unwavering admiration and respect that had grown with each passing year.

Your eyes traveled over the scrapbook, a look of genuine awe and recognition crossing your face. The corners of your mouth lifted in an appreciative smile as you took the cherished book from Heeseung’s hands.

"Wow, Heeseung, this is truly incredible," you remarked, your voice infused with admiration. You began to gently turn the pages, each delicate motion revealing the meticulously curated moments of your journey. "You've captured every detail with such care," you continued, your fingers brushing over the images and notes. The sincerity in your tone spoke volumes, reflecting not only your gratitude but also the profound impact of his devotion.

Heeseung nodded, a proud and heartfelt smile unfolding across his face. The expression was a testament to his deep appreciation and respect for you, his admiration evident in every line of his features.

"You’ve been an immense source of inspiration to me," he began, his voice rich with emotion. "Witnessing your growth and the way you've triumphed over challenges has been a beacon of hope during my own difficult times. I wanted to ensure that other fans could share in that journey as well." His words carried the weight of genuine gratitude, reflecting the profound impact your perseverance and success had on his life.

You lifted your gaze from the scrapbook, your eyes meeting his with a depth of sincerity that spoke volumes. The warmth in your expression was a gentle reflection of the gratitude swelling within you.

"Thank you, Heeseung," you said softly, your voice imbued with heartfelt emotion. "Your support means more to me than words can express. It's dedicated fans like you who make all the effort and hard work truly worthwhile." The weight of your words hung in the air, a testament to the profound connection between an artist and the cherished individuals who help sustain their passion.

As you delicately signed your name on the scrapbook, Heeseung felt a surge of gratitude and profound fulfillment wash over him. The ink of your signature seemed to crystallize the moment, transforming his dreams into a tangible reality.

Meeting you and hearing those heartfelt words had surpassed even his most cherished aspirations. The realization that his steadfast support had made a meaningful impact on your journey was a treasure he would hold close to his heart. It was a moment of deep resonance, one that would linger with him as a cherished memory, a testament to the power of unwavering devotion and connection.

As Heeseung exited the venue, a radiant smile stretched across his face, one that seemed to capture the essence of his joy. The thrill of the evening lingered like a warm embrace, and he found himself buoyed by a sense of deep contentment.

He knew that his commitment to supporting you would remain steadfast, unwavering through every trial and triumph. The thought of sharing your story with new fans and enriching his cherished scrapbook with fresh memories filled him with a profound sense of purpose. The acknowledgment of his dedication had bestowed upon him a moment of rare significance—one that he would hold dear, a luminous beacon of inspiration to treasure for a lifetime.

박종성 ── PARK JONGSEONG.

Jay fidgeted with his earbuds, delicately positioning them as he allowed your music to wash over him, a soothing cascade of sound that enveloped his senses. The anticipation in the cool night air was palpable, a faint electric hum that seemed to dance through the crowd gathered outside the concert venue. Each note, each lyric was a comforting balm as he stood in line, his excitement palpable and nearly tangible.

He had waited for this night with bated breath, the days leading up to it marked with eager anticipation and a fervent excitement that had grown since he first secured his ticket. The prospect of witnessing your live performance was a thrill that had consumed him for months. Jay was not the kind of fan to lose himself in fervent adoration; rather, he embraced a more laid-back dedication. His passion manifested in the quiet diligence of streaming your songs and videos, ensuring that your place atop the charts remained steadfast.

His dedication went beyond mere listening; it extended to the art of maximizing streaming efforts. Jay found a certain joy in sharing his knowledge, guiding fellow fans on how to elevate their own streaming practices. For him, each play and each view was a small, yet significant tribute to your artistry, a testament to the role he played in the symphony of your success.

The anticipation in the crowd was almost electric, a current that seemed to weave through the throngs of eager fans, sparking whispers and hushed conversations. Jay, however, exuded an aura of tranquility, his outward calm a stark contrast to the vibrant energy that rippled around him. Beneath his serene exterior, his excitement simmered, a deep well of anticipation that kept him composed.

As the doors to the concert venue finally swung open, it was as if a collective breath was held, only to be released in a surge of movement. Jay stepped forward with purposeful strides, navigating the sea of enthusiastic fans until he reached his seat. It was perfectly positioned, offering an unobstructed view of the stage where the night’s magic would soon unfold.

The atmosphere inside was a palpable buzz of exhilaration, a harmonious blend of voices and laughter that filled the space with a symphony of excitement. Fans exchanged gleeful glances and shared snippets of their own anticipation, their voices blending into a crescendo of collective joy. The air was thick with the promise of the performance to come, and Jay, nestled in his prime spot, allowed himself to bask in the electric ambiance, savoring the moment before the music began.

As the lights in the arena dimmed, a hushed reverence fell over the crowd, a moment suspended in breathless anticipation. The first ethereal notes of your opening song began to ripple through the space, a delicate wave of sound that immediately swept Jay into its embrace. The thrill of excitement surged through him like a living pulse, a vibrant crescendo that was both exhilarating and profound.

Experiencing you live was a revelation, an intoxicating contrast to the solitary pleasure of streaming your videos at home. The raw energy of the performance, the sheer magnetism of your presence on stage, transformed the music into a living, breathing entity that resonated deep within him. Jay was no longer just a spectator; he was an integral part of the spectacle.

He became fully immersed in the experience, his voice blending seamlessly with the chorus of fellow fans, each note of the song drawing him further into the enchanting world you created. His lightstick, a beacon of glowing color, moved rhythmically in tandem with the sea of lights around him, a pulsating testament to the collective euphoria that enveloped the arena. The moment was a symphony of sight and sound, a vivid tapestry of emotions that made every second of the performance a cherished memory in the making.

Halfway through the concert, the rhythm of the performance paused, giving way to a moment of intimate connection between you and your audience. As you took a breath and glanced out across the sea of faces, your eyes shimmered with a depth of gratitude that seemed to light up the entire arena. The energy of the crowd seemed to pulse in response, a living, breathing testament to the bond you had forged with your fans.

You spoke to them with heartfelt sincerity, your voice imbued with warmth as you thanked everyone for their unwavering support. Each word you uttered was like a gentle caress, weaving through the crowd and touching each individual. Jay, standing amidst the throng, felt a profound swell of pride well up within him. It was a quiet but powerful emotion, knowing that his contributions, however modest, had played a role in this vibrant celebration of your success.

The moment was a delicate dance of appreciation and connection, a fleeting yet timeless exchange that made Jay's heart swell with a deep sense of fulfillment. In that instant, amidst the shared joy and collective euphoria, he felt an unspoken bond with you and the thousands of other fans who had gathered to share in the magic of the night.

As the concert approached its final moments, the air thickened with anticipation. You began to perform Jay’s favorite song, the one that had become the soundtrack to his own personal journey. As the first notes floated into the air, Jay closed his eyes, surrendering himself to the music. Each melody and lyric seemed to envelop him like a familiar embrace, resonating with the countless hours he had dedicated to streaming this very track.

The music wove through him, a rich tapestry of sound that stirred deep within his soul. It was as though every chord and rhythm had been crafted specifically for him, echoing the joy and dedication he had invested in following your career. The experience was transcendent, a moment of perfect harmony where time seemed to stand still.

When the song reached its crescendo and the final notes gently faded into silence, the crowd erupted in a fervent burst of applause, a collective roar of appreciation that reverberated through the arena. Jay's hands instinctively joined the chorus of clapping, his heart swelling with a profound sense of fulfillment and connection. In that shared moment of jubilation, surrounded by the vibrant energy of fellow fans, Jay felt an overwhelming surge of happiness, a bittersweet reminder of the magical night he had been fortunate to experience.

As the final encore drew to a close and the last notes of the evening faded into the night, the concert hall began to empty, a gradual exodus of reluctant fans leaving behind the echoes of an unforgettable performance. Jay, however, chose to linger, his steps slow and deliberate as he remained in his seat, unwilling to let the magic of the night slip away just yet. The atmosphere, still tinged with the residual glow of stage lights and the faint scent of excitement, seemed to pulse with a gentle reverence.

He took a deep breath, allowing the serenity of the moment to wash over him. For Jay, the night had been more than just an event; it was the culmination of countless hours of support, a testament to his unwavering dedication from afar. Seeing you live had transformed his abstract admiration into a vivid, tangible experience, a realization of the dreams he had quietly nurtured.

The concert had been a symphony of emotions, each moment a brushstroke on the canvas of his devotion. As he looked around at the now-emptying hall, the memories of the evening replayed in his mind like a cherished melody. Jay savored the lingering warmth of the night, a profound satisfaction settling in his heart as he reflected on the incredible journey that had brought him to this perfect, fleeting moment of connection.

As Jay made his way toward the exit, he cast a casual glance toward the stage door, where he noticed a small cluster of fans gathered with hopeful anticipation. Their presence was a quiet testament to the lingering magic of the night. Intrigued, he decided to join them, even though he held no grand expectations. The concert had already fulfilled him in ways he hadn’t imagined, and he was content to leave with the memories of the evening still fresh in his heart.

To his astonishment, the quiet buzz of conversation among the remaining fans was soon interrupted by a burst of excitement. You emerged from behind the stage door, a vision of warmth and grace amidst the dimly lit backdrop. Your face was illuminated by a radiant smile that seemed to capture the essence of the night’s enchantment. You waved at the gathered fans, your gesture a gentle acknowledgment of their unwavering support.

The scene was bathed in a soft, lingering light as you made your way towards the crowd, and Jay's heart skipped a beat. Seeing you in person, so close and so genuine, added a new layer of magic to the evening. The brief encounter, filled with your sincere appreciation and the shared joy of the fans, became a cherished epilogue to the night’s spectacular performance.

Jay's heart fluttered with a sudden surge of excitement as you made your way toward the group, each step drawing you closer in a cascade of anticipation. Your approach was deliberate and gracious, as you took the time to engage with each fan, your presence a radiant blend of warmth and genuine appreciation.

When you finally reached him, the moment seemed to stretch into a beautiful eternity. Jay fought to maintain his composure, though his nerves danced with barely contained enthusiasm. He managed a calm, albeit slightly tremulous, smile as he introduced himself. “Hi, I’m Jay,” he said, his voice steady but infused with an unmistakable hint of awe. “I’m—uh, I’m always streaming your songs and videos. Tonight was incredible.”

His words, though simple, were a heartfelt tribute to the night’s splendor. The sincerity in his tone mirrored the admiration he had carried for so long, and in that fleeting exchange, the distance between fan and artist dissolved into a shared moment of connection and reverence.

You beamed with a radiant smile that seemed to illuminate the space around you, your eyes sparkling with genuine warmth and gratitude. “Thank you, Jay,” you said, your voice soft yet filled with heartfelt sincerity. The words flowed effortlessly, each syllable a testament to the deep appreciation you felt.

Your gaze held a tender, almost ethereal quality as you continued, “I’m truly grateful for all the support. It means so much to know that you enjoy the music and that you’re willing to contribute in such a meaningful way.” The sincerity in your tone and the genuine light in your eyes conveyed a deep, personal connection, making Jay feel as though his dedication had not only been acknowledged but cherished. In that moment, the bond between artist and fan was beautifully reaffirmed, a shared appreciation that transcended words.

Jay felt a profound surge of warmth at your words, a gentle rush of emotion that enveloped him in a cocoon of happiness. The sincerity of your appreciation struck a deep chord within him, igniting a sense of fulfillment that radiated from his core.

“I’ll keep doing it,” he said, his voice imbued with a quiet but resolute determination. “Your music is honestly the best thing to ever happen.” Each word was carefully chosen, a heartfelt declaration of the impact your artistry had made on his life. His statement was not merely a tribute but a promise, a reflection of the deep connection he felt with your work and the unwavering commitment to continue supporting it with all his heart.

You nodded with a graceful, appreciative smile, the gesture accompanied by a soft, melodic giggle that seemed to carry the warmth of the evening. The sound was a delicate, playful note that danced in the air, a reflection of the genuine gratitude you felt.

“Thank you for everything, Jay,” you said, your voice imbued with a tender sincerity. The words flowed with a natural ease, each syllable a heartfelt acknowledgment of his unwavering support. In that moment, the exchange between you was a beautiful blend of appreciation and connection, a shared understanding that transcended the boundaries of the stage and reached into the heart of the evening’s magic.

As you gracefully moved on to greet the other fans, Jay was enveloped by a deep and resonant sense of fulfillment. The concert had been a spectacular crescendo, and the brief, heartfelt interaction with you had imbued the evening with an added dimension of personal significance. It was a reaffirmation of his unwavering commitment to supporting your music, a promise of loyalty and admiration that had been solidified in the warmth of your gratitude.

As he began his journey home, a contented smile lingered on his lips. He slipped his earbuds back in, the familiar comfort of the soft cushion against his ears a prelude to the solace he sought. With a gentle tap, he played your latest song, letting the melodies cascade through him. The music, already a cherished part of his life, now carried an even deeper resonance, enriched by the vivid memories of the night. Each note seemed to echo with the joy and connection he had experienced, weaving the evening’s magic into the very fabric of the music he held so dear.

심재윤 ── SIM JAEYUN.

Jake's phone erupted with a relentless flurry of notifications, its screen a tapestry of flashing icons and vibrating alerts. Each buzz was a herald of the burgeoning frenzy surrounding your latest release, a wildfire of excitement that spread across the digital expanse. His fan account, a veritable beacon of devotion, crackled with activity as the news of your new work ignited the fervor of your admirers.

In the realm of social media, Jake was a maestro, orchestrating a symphony of online enthusiasm with meticulous precision. His virtual domain was a haven of vibrant promotion, where he crafted elaborate posts to celebrate your artistry and engaged in fervent discussions to elevate your presence. He was a tireless guardian of your reputation, deftly defending you against any shadow of criticism that dared to cast itself upon your name.

Hours blurred into days as Jake immersed himself in the art of digital advocacy. He meticulously arranged streaming parties that thrummed with collective excitement and mobilized legions of supporters to cast their votes in your favor. Each moment spent was a testament to his unwavering commitment, as he channeled his energy into ensuring that your achievements resonated far and wide.

One serene afternoon, as Jake meandered through his social media feed with a sense of routine calm, a new notification flickered to life on his screen. It was an announcement for an exclusive contest, offering a coveted prize: a chance for fans to meet you in person and partake in a thrilling game during an upcoming interview. The message was a sparkling beacon amidst the digital noise, and Jake's heart leapt in his chest, racing with an exhilarating burst of anticipation.

With a sense of urgency and determination, Jake plunged into action. His fingers danced across the screen as he entered the contest, his movements fueled by a fervent hope and a deep-seated desire. The stakes were high, and he could almost envision the opportunity as if it were a tangible, glittering prize just within reach.

Not content to keep this golden chance to himself, Jake set about rallying his fellow fans with a fervent zeal. He shared the contest announcement across his fan accounts, crafting messages that bristled with enthusiasm and encouragement. His call to action was a clarion cry for participation, urging others to join in and seize the chance to connect with you, as he had. The air was electric with shared excitement, each notification a testament to the collective dream of meeting you in person.

A week later, Jake's phone rang with an unfamiliar number, its jarring ring cutting through the quietude of his day. With a flutter of nervous anticipation, he answered, his hand trembling slightly as he lifted the phone to his ear. On the other end, a voice, vibrant with uncontainable enthusiasm, greeted him with words that sent a shiver of disbelief and elation down his spine: he had won the contest.

The news was a cascade of joy that surged through Jake's veins, electrifying every fiber of his being. His heart pounded in a rhythm of pure exhilaration, and he struggled to hold back the flood of emotion that threatened to overwhelm him. As he expressed his heartfelt gratitude to the caller, his mind raced with the thrilling possibilities that lay ahead.

Without a moment's hesitation, Jake rushed to share the incredible news with his online friends. His fingers flew over the keyboard as he crafted messages that crackled with infectious excitement, eager to spread the joy and invite them to revel in his triumph. The virtual space was soon abuzz with celebratory fervor, each message a ripple in the sea of shared elation, as Jake's news became a beacon of collective joy among his fellow fans.

On the day of the interview, Jake approached the studio with a heart that danced between nerves and exhilaration. Each step felt like a journey through a landscape of anticipation, the gravity of the moment settling over him like a shroud of shimmering possibility. Years of dedicated promotion and fervent support had led him to this threshold, and the weight of it all made his pulse quicken with a heady mix of excitement and trepidation.

As he entered the studio, the bustling environment greeted him with a warmth that was both soothing and energizing. The staff, their smiles genuine and eyes twinkling with camaraderie, enveloped him in a welcoming embrace. They guided him through the labyrinth of the studio, their voices imbued with the promise of an unforgettable experience.

Jake listened intently as they outlined the details of the segment, each word painting a vivid picture of what was to come. The centerpiece of the evening was a live game, an interactive moment where he would finally connect with you face-to-face. The thought of sharing this experience with you, after so many years of virtual connection, ignited a thrill within him, and he found himself eagerly anticipating the chance to step into this shared moment of excitement and connection.

As the interview commenced, Jake lingered on the sidelines, his heart thudding with the rhythmic urgency of a drum. Each beat seemed to echo the anticipation that hung palpably in the air. The studio's vibrant energy enveloped him, a whirlwind of lights and sounds that intensified his sense of expectation.

When the moment arrived and the host’s voice rang out, introducing him with a flourish, Jake drew a deep, steadying breath. With a resolve that masked his inner tumult, he stepped onto the set. The audience’s applause greeted him like a warm embrace, their clapping a chorus of encouragement that surged around him, amplifying the thrill of the moment. As he walked forward, the atmosphere crackled with an electric blend of excitement and nervous anticipation, each step bringing him closer to the realization of a long-held dream.

You turned towards him, your face illuminated by a radiant smile that seemed to light up the entire studio. The warmth and sincerity in your eyes made the moment feel suspended in time.

"Hi, Jake!" you greeted him with a cheerful exuberance, your voice carrying a melodic lilt that wrapped around him like a comforting embrace. "It's great to meet you," you continued, your words flowing effortlessly and imbued with genuine delight. The connection in that instant was electric, as if the years of virtual admiration had culminated in this shared, unforgettable moment.

Jake's smile, though brimming with excitement, was tempered with a careful composure. He met your gaze with a mixture of awe and admiration. "Hi," he said, his voice steady despite the flutter of nerves. "I’m a huge fan."

Your response was immediate and heartfelt, a genuine delight shining in your eyes. "Thank you so much for your support," you replied, your voice warm and sincere. "It means a lot." The simplicity of your words was underscored by the depth of emotion conveyed, and Jake felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude and joy. In that exchange, the connection between fan and idol transcended the boundaries of screen and stage, becoming a shared moment of authentic appreciation.

The host's voice rang out, rich with enthusiasm as they outlined the rules of the game. It was a lively trivia challenge centered around your illustrious career, a test of knowledge designed to celebrate your achievements. Jake felt a surge of confidence, his pulse quickening with the thrill of the impending challenge. He had immersed himself in every detail of your journey, his knowledge deep and comprehensive.

As the game commenced, Jake's well-honed expertise began to shine through. Each answer he provided was delivered with the assurance of someone who had followed your career with unwavering devotion. Your laughter, bright and infectious, filled the air as you cheered him on. The joy and admiration in your eyes were unmistakable, and it was clear that his dedication and passion had left a lasting impression on you.

As the game drew to a close, Jake emerged victorious by a commanding margin, his triumph a testament to his fervent admiration and meticulous knowledge. The host’s voice rang out with genuine congratulations, the applause from the audience swelling like a wave of collective appreciation.

You stepped forward with a smile that radiated warmth and gratitude. In your hands, you held a signed album, its cover gleaming under the studio lights. As you presented it to Jake, your words flowed with heartfelt sincerity. "You're amazing, Jake," you said, your tone infused with genuine admiration. "Thank you for everything you do." The album, a tangible symbol of your appreciation, was a fitting end to a moment that celebrated both his dedication and your mutual connection.

Jake was overcome by a swell of emotion, his voice trembling slightly with sincerity. "It's my pleasure," he replied, his words imbued with a heartfelt promise. "I'll keep supporting you no matter what." The depth of his commitment was clear, a testament to his unwavering admiration.

As the interview concluded, a brief window of private time opened up between you. The studio, now quieter and more intimate, felt like a cocoon of shared experience. You turned to him with a radiant smile, your eyes sparkling with genuine delight. "I had a lot of fun playing with you, Jake," you said, your voice warm and infused with a touch of playful admiration. "I’m so impressed you beat me." Your words, spoken with genuine appreciation, underscored the camaraderie and connection that had blossomed between you during the game.

Jake’s laughter bubbled up with a sense of deep satisfaction, his heart swelling with fulfillment. "I may or may not run an account or two dedicated to you," he confessed, his voice tinged with playful secrecy. "You’re just such an inspiration for me." His cheeks flushed with a warm blush, a vivid testament to the joy and pride he felt in that moment.

Your smile broadened, radiating a glow of genuine warmth and appreciation. “I really appreciate you, Jake. So much,” you replied, your words like a soothing balm to his eager heart. The sincerity in your voice resonated deeply, making the moment even more memorable.

As Jake exited the studio, his heart brimmed with a sense of completeness. Meeting you had surpassed even his loftiest dreams, and the encounter had only fueled his devotion. With a renewed fervor, he prepared to champion your cause with even greater zeal. On his journey home, he crafted a heartfelt message for his fan accounts, pouring out his gratitude and enthusiasm. He shared the transformative experience with his fellow fans, encouraging them to support you with the same passion and dedication that had driven him all along.

박성훈 ── PARK SUNGHOON.

Sunghoon adjusted his jacket one last time, meticulously smoothing the fabric as he scrutinized his reflection in the mirror. The jacket, a masterpiece of sleek black with intricate embroidery, was a testament to your signature style from a recent performance that had left a lasting impression on him. Each stitch seemed to echo the haunting melodies of your music, weaving a connection between fashion and art that he found mesmerizing.

He had spent weeks scouring boutiques and online shops, determined to find a jacket that mirrored yours with precise accuracy. The search had been relentless, driven by a deep admiration for both your music and your fashion sense. To Sunghoon, this jacket was more than just an article of clothing; it was a symbol of his dedication and a tribute to the artistry he so deeply respected.

As he fastened the buttons, memories of countless nights spent streaming your songs and watching your performances flooded his mind. The rhythms and lyrics had become a part of him, ingrained in his soul after hours of listening on repeat. Each beat, each note, resonated within him until he could replay them perfectly in his head, as if your voice had become his own inner soundtrack.

The mirror reflected not just his image, but also the transformation he had undergone. In that moment, he wasn’t just Sunghoon; he was a reflection of the music and style that had inspired him, a living homage to the artist he revered. With a final, confident glance, he stepped out of his apartment, ready to carry the essence of your art into the world.

Today was a day unlike any other, a day that held the promise of a dream coming true. Sunghoon clutched the precious ticket to your fan meeting, the golden key to an encounter he had longed for. This rare opportunity to meet you in person set his heart racing with a thrilling blend of excitement and nervous anticipation.

As he made his way to the venue, each step felt charged with electricity. The cityscape blurred around him, the usual hum of life fading into the background as his mind focused solely on the upcoming moment. The fan meeting was more than an event; it was a chance to connect with the artist who had profoundly influenced his world.

In preparation for this special occasion, Sunghoon had meticulously crafted his appearance, choosing an outfit that echoed your style while reflecting his own dedication. Every detail, from the crisp lines of his tailored jacket to the subtle accessories, was selected with the hope of catching your eye. He had spent countless hours perfecting his look, ensuring that it embodied the essence of your artistic vision.

As he approached the venue, the reality of the moment began to sink in. The crowd of fans gathered outside shared his enthusiasm, their voices a chorus of shared admiration. But for Sunghoon, this experience was intensely personal. He felt a connection to you through your music and fashion, and today, he hoped to express that bond in person.

With each passing moment, the anticipation built, his heart pounding in rhythm with the excitement that filled the air. Sunghoon took a deep breath, ready to step into a world where his dreams and reality would collide, where the admiration he held in his heart would finally find its voice.

The venue buzzed with anticipation, a symphony of eager murmurs and shared excitement filling the air. Fans poured into the room, their faces alight with anticipation and joy. Sunghoon navigated through the sea of people, finally finding his seat amidst the throng. He glanced around, recognizing a few familiar faces from social media, their expressions mirroring his own eager anticipation. Yet, despite the familiar faces, his focus remained unwaveringly on the stage, where you would soon make your grand entrance.

The room seemed to pulse with collective energy, the excitement almost tangible as fans shared stories, laughter, and their mutual admiration for you. Sunghoon's heart beat in time with the buzz of the crowd, a rhythm that underscored his own fervent anticipation. He adjusted his jacket, a symbol of his dedication, feeling the fabric against his skin as a reminder of the momentous occasion.

As the lights dimmed and a hush fell over the crowd, the atmosphere thickened with anticipation. Every eye was trained on the stage, every breath held in unison. Then, the curtains parted, and you walked out, a vision of grace and warmth. The crowd erupted in cheers, the sound rising like a tidal wave, enveloping the room in a cascade of adoration.

Sunghoon felt his heart race, the thrill of the moment washing over him. He watched intently as you greeted the audience, your smile radiant and welcoming. The way you moved, the way you carried yourself, it was as if the essence of your music and persona had materialized before his eyes. Every gesture, every word, seemed to resonate deeply with the audience, binding them together in a shared moment of pure connection.

In that instant, as you stood on the stage, Sunghoon felt a profound sense of awe. This was the culmination of his admiration and dedication, a fleeting yet unforgettable moment where the distance between fan and artist dissolved, leaving only the magic of shared experience.

The fan meeting commenced with a lively Q&A session, the air brimming with curiosity and excitement as fans eagerly posed their questions. The room buzzed with the hum of conversation, punctuated by bursts of laughter and applause. Following the Q&A, the atmosphere shifted into a more playful tone with interactive games, drawing the crowd even closer together in their shared joy.

As the event unfolded, Sunghoon's anticipation grew with each passing moment. The rhythm of activities seemed to accelerate, and before he knew it, his turn to meet you arrived, catching him off guard with its swiftness. Rising from his seat, he felt a wave of nervous energy course through him, his hands growing slightly clammy as he approached the stage.

With each step closer, he could feel his heart pounding in his chest, a mix of excitement and nerves intertwining. Taking a deep breath, he steadied himself, determined to make the most of this fleeting, yet precious moment. As he ascended the steps to the stage, the world around him seemed to blur, his focus narrowing solely on you.

When he finally stood before you, a breathless anticipation hung in the air. Your eyes lifted to meet his, and a spark of recognition danced within them. The moment your gaze settled on his jacket, your eyes lit up, a warm and genuine smile spreading across your face. The intricate embroidery and sleek design had not gone unnoticed, and the recognition in your eyes sent a thrill through Sunghoon.

The connection was instantaneous, a silent acknowledgment of his dedication and admiration. For Sunghoon, that single moment of recognition felt like a dream realized, a testament to the countless hours spent immersing himself in your music and style. The clammy hands and racing heart were now a backdrop to the profound sense of fulfillment and joy that filled him as he stood before you, basking in the shared glow of a moment that transcended the ordinary.

"Hi, I'm Sunghoon," he introduced himself, his voice carrying a blend of shyness and sincerity. A gentle smile played on his lips as he spoke, the culmination of his admiration and anticipation distilled into this single moment. "I've been a fan for a long time."

Your smile widened, radiating warmth and genuine delight as you leaned in, your eyes twinkling with interest. The closeness allowed you to take in the details of his meticulously chosen jacket. "Wow, Sunghoon," you exclaimed, admiration evident in your tone. "You look so handsome in that jacket! It looks exactly like the one I wore."

Your words were a balm to his nerves, each syllable like a note in a melody he had longed to hear. The recognition and praise in your eyes made his heart swell with a mixture of pride and elation. The jacket, which had become a symbol of his dedication, now served as a bridge between you, connecting his admiration to your artistry in a tangible way.

In that moment, the bustling room seemed to fade into the background, leaving only the two of you in a shared bubble of recognition and mutual appreciation. Sunghoon felt a surge of confidence, his earlier nervousness dissipating in the face of your kind words and warm demeanor. The shy smile on his lips grew, reflecting the joy that now filled his heart.

The exchange, though brief, was imbued with a depth of meaning that words alone could scarcely convey. It was a moment of connection, where fan and artist transcended their roles and met as individuals, each acknowledging the other's presence in a world where art and admiration intertwined.

Sunghoon felt a surge of pride swell within him, his earlier nervousness now replaced by a deep sense of connection. “Thank you. Your style is such an inspiration to me. And your music… I listen to it all the time,” he confessed, his voice brimming with genuine admiration.

You chuckled softly, a sound that resonated with warmth and sincerity. “I’m glad you enjoy it. Just make sure to take breaks so you don’t get sick of it, okay?” The gentle teasing in your tone was both comforting and endearing, bridging the gap between artist and admirer.

Sunghoon nodded, his eyes reflecting the depth of his emotions. In that moment, he felt truly seen and understood. “I’ll try. It’s just that your music and style mean so much to me,” he said, his words carrying the weight of countless hours spent immersed in your art.

Reaching out, you patted his shoulder, a gesture of both kindness and acknowledgment. “I appreciate your dedication, Sunghoon. It really means a lot,” you said, your voice imbued with sincerity. The touch was light yet grounding, a tangible connection that left a lasting impression on his heart.

The exchange lingered in the air, a delicate interplay of words and emotions that transcended the ordinary. Sunghoon felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude and fulfillment, knowing that his admiration had not only been recognized but also reciprocated. In this brief, beautifully profound moment, the lines between fan and artist blurred, leaving only the pure, unspoken understanding that art, in all its forms, had the power to connect souls.

As you took the photograph and began signing it, Sunghoon felt his nerves gradually settle, the initial flutter of anxiety giving way to a profound sense of calm. The interaction was unfolding in a way that felt far more personal and genuine than he had ever dared to imagine. Each stroke of your pen seemed to bridge the gap between your world and his, transforming a simple autograph into a cherished memory.

When you handed the photo back to him, your smile was radiant and reassuring. “Keep being awesome, Sunghoon,” you said warmly, your voice a soothing balm that enveloped him in a sense of belonging. “And keep sharing your outfits. I love seeing how fans interpret my style.”

The words resonated deeply within him, each syllable a testament to the bond that art and admiration had woven between you. Sunghoon’s heart swelled with a mix of pride and joy, knowing that his dedication and efforts had not only been acknowledged but celebrated. The photograph in his hands was now a symbol of this extraordinary moment, a tangible reminder of the connection that had blossomed between artist and fan.

In that fleeting yet profound exchange, Sunghoon felt seen, appreciated, and understood. Your encouragement was more than just a compliment; it was an affirmation of his own creative expression and a beacon of inspiration that would continue to guide him. As he looked into your eyes, he saw not just an idol, but a kindred spirit who valued and nurtured the shared love of art and fashion.

The room around them seemed to blur, the noise of the crowd fading into the background as the significance of the moment crystallized in his heart. Sunghoon knew that this encounter would remain etched in his memory, a beacon of light and inspiration that he would carry with him always. The photo, now imbued with your words and warmth, became a cherished memento of an experience that transcended the ordinary, leaving an indelible mark on his soul.

Sunghoon’s heart soared as he expressed his gratitude to you, his voice carrying the heartfelt sincerity of the moment. With a lingering glance back at the stage, he made his way down, feeling as though he were floating on a cloud. The rest of the fan meeting passed in a blur, a whirlwind of activities and emotions, yet the memory of your kind words and warm smile remained vivid and bright, etched into his mind like a cherished painting.

Leaving the venue, the night air felt crisp and refreshing, a perfect counterpoint to the warmth that still radiated within him. Sunghoon knew that his dedication had paid off in ways he had never imagined. The acknowledgment and connection he had felt were more profound than any fan could hope for, a true testament to the bond between artist and admirer.

That evening, with his heart still brimming with excitement, Sunghoon carefully composed a post for his social media. He shared a picture of his meticulously crafted outfit, capturing the essence of the jacket that had sparked your recognition. In his post, he recounted the experience, describing the magic of the fan meeting and encouraging other fans to keep supporting you with the same passion and dedication.

As he scrolled through the responses, he felt a renewed sense of connection, not only to your music and style but to you as a person. The fan meeting had given him a deeper appreciation for everything you did, a glimpse into the heart and soul behind the art he so admired. The comments from fellow fans created a tapestry of shared love and admiration, weaving a community bound by a mutual appreciation for your artistry.

Later, as he prepared for bed, Sunghoon queued up your latest song, a soft smile spreading across his face as the familiar melody filled the room. Each note seemed to shimmer with new meaning, each lyric resonating with the experiences of the day. Meeting you had infused everything with a fresh sense of wonder and excitement, rekindling his enthusiasm and deepening his connection to your work.

With the music playing softly in the background, he closed his eyes, feeling a profound sense of contentment. He knew he would never truly tire of your songs; each listen was a journey, a renewal of his unwavering dedication. As he drifted off to sleep, his dreams were filled with anticipation and curiosity, eager to see what you would create next. The fan meeting had not only been a moment of personal fulfillment but also a promise of continued inspiration and support, a testament to the enduring power of art and connection.

김선우 ── KIM SEONWOO.

Seonwoo sat at his desk, his heart pounding like a drum in his chest as he fixated on the countdown timer ticking away on his computer screen. Each passing second brought him closer to a moment he had long fantasized about: a fan call with you, his cherished idol. The anticipation was almost palpable, making the air in his room feel electric with excitement and nervous energy.

His room was a vivid testament to his unwavering devotion. The walls were adorned with an array of your posters, each one capturing a different facet of your career and beauty. Shelves brimming with signed and limited edition merchandise showcased his dedication; every item was a precious relic, carefully preserved and displayed. Even his computer bore evidence of his admiration, filled with meticulously organized folders of your photos, videos, and achievements. Each file represented countless hours spent curating a digital shrine to the person who inspired him most.

As the seconds dwindled, Seonwoo took a deep breath, his eyes wandering over the familiar, comforting chaos of his sanctuary. The posters seemed to smile down at him, offering silent encouragement. The room, once a mere collection of his interests, now felt like a sacred space where his dreams were about to intertwine with reality. His hands trembled slightly, the excitement almost too much to contain, but his spirit soared with the thought that in just a few moments, he would finally get to speak to you, the idol who had unknowingly shaped so much of his world.

When the timer finally struck zero, the screen shimmered to life, and there you were, as if emerging from a dream. Seonwoo's breath hitched in his throat, an almost palpable sensation of wonder coursing through him. Your face, illuminated by a soft, ethereal glow, appeared on the screen, your features radiating warmth and charm.

The sight of you—so vividly present in his world—was almost too incredible to fathom. Your smile, a gentle curve of happiness, seemed to bridge the gap between reality and his wildest fantasies. For a moment, Seonwoo was lost in the magic of it all, struggling to grasp that the person who had inspired his dreams was now smiling directly at him from the other side of the screen.

"Hi, Seonwoo!" you greeted him, your voice ringing with a vibrant cheerfulness that seemed to brighten the room. Your words, imbued with genuine warmth, carried a melodic lilt that made Seonwoo’s heart skip a beat. "It’s wonderful to finally meet you," you continued, your smile expanding to showcase a glimmer of sincerity that made the moment feel all the more magical.

Your presence, though mediated by the screen, was imbued with an inviting aura. The way you spoke, with a natural grace and enthusiasm, created an intimate connection that transcended the digital divide. For Seonwoo, it was as if the space between them had vanished, leaving only the heartfelt exchange and the thrill of meeting the person who had been a beacon of inspiration in his life.

Seonwoo took a deep breath, the weight of his nerves pressing heavily on his chest. He forced a smile, trying to steady the fluttering excitement within him. "Hi!" he managed, his voice a mix of awe and nervousness. "I can hardly believe this is actually happening."

His words tumbled out, tinged with a sincerity that matched the intensity of his feelings. "I'm such a huge fan," he continued, his gaze locked on you, as if trying to memorize every detail of the moment. The sheer enormity of the experience overwhelmed him, but the thrill of finally speaking with you, the person he had admired from afar, was an unforgettable rush that made every anxious flutter worth it.

Your smile broadened, becoming a radiant expression of genuine gratitude. "Thank you!" you said, your voice rich with warmth and sincerity. "I truly appreciate your support."

Your eyes sparkled with a sincere interest as you continued, "How are you doing?" The question was delivered with a gentle kindness that made Seonwoo feel as if your concern extended beyond the confines of the screen. The ease in your tone and the genuine curiosity in your gaze created an atmosphere of intimacy, making the moment feel remarkably personal and heartfelt.

"I'm great now," Seonwoo replied, his voice growing steadier as he began to relax. The initial tremor in his tone gave way to a more composed delivery, his excitement still palpable but softened by a newfound calm.

"I've immersed myself in every detail of your career and your achievements," he continued, a trace of awe lingering in his words. "I’ve followed you since your debut, watching your journey unfold with a sense of wonder." The depth of his admiration was evident in his gaze, as if each memory of your milestones had woven itself into the fabric of his own life.

"Wow, that's truly amazing!" you exclaimed, your voice tinged with heartfelt surprise. A look of genuine emotion softened your features, revealing just how deeply your fan’s dedication resonated with you. Your eyes shone with appreciation, as if the weight of Seonwoo’s unwavering support had touched something profoundly personal within you.

"Your dedication means so much to me," you continued, your tone brimming with warmth and gratitude. With a bright, curious glint in your eye, you leaned slightly forward, eager to engage. "So, what's your favorite song from my newest album?" The question was posed with an earnest interest, inviting Seonwoo to share in the joy of your latest work, and further deepening the bond between you.

Seonwoo's eyes sparkled with enthusiasm, his expression lighting up as he spoke. "That's a tough choice," he admitted, his voice reflecting the depth of his admiration. "But if I had to choose, I think my favorite would have to be 'Eternal Echoes.'"

He paused for a moment, choosing his words with care, as if savoring the memories the song evoked. "The lyrics are so profoundly meaningful, each line woven with a resonance that touches the soul," he continued, his tone filled with reverence. "And the melody—it’s simply beautiful. It captivated me completely and struck a chord deep within, making it a song that I find myself returning to time and again."

You nodded with a radiant smile, your eyes alight with genuine pleasure. "I’m so glad to hear that you like 'Eternal Echoes,'" you said, your voice softening with a touch of nostalgia. "It’s actually one of my favorites as well."

A hint of emotion colored your tone as you continued, "I poured a lot of my heart into that song." Your words carried a sense of deep personal connection, as if sharing a piece of your soul through the melody and lyrics. The sincerity in your voice conveyed the dedication and passion you had invested, making the moment feel all the more intimate and special.

Seonwoo cast a thoughtful glance around his room, the vibrant tapestry of his admiration for you spread out before him. Each corner of the space held a cherished piece of memorabilia, a testament to his devotion. He carefully selected a signed album from a neatly organized shelf, its cover shimmering softly in the ambient light.

With a mixture of reverence and excitement, he held it up, his eyes gleaming with pride. "This," he said, his voice tinged with affection, "is one of my most prized possessions." He paused, his gaze lingering on the autograph, a tangible connection to the moment of joy when he had received it. "I was absolutely over the moon when I got your autograph. It felt like a dream come true."

You smiled warmly, a soft glow of genuine affection illuminating your features. "I’m truly glad that it means so much to you," you said, your voice imbued with heartfelt sincerity. The warmth of your smile seemed to envelop the space between you, bridging the gap with an emotional connection.

"It’s fans like you," you continued, your eyes reflecting deep appreciation, "who make everything worthwhile." Your words were a tender acknowledgment, as if you were sharing a secret about the profound impact that loyal supporters have on your journey. The sincerity in your tone and the genuine sparkle in your gaze conveyed just how much you valued the support, making the moment feel exceptionally personal and meaningful.

The conversation flowed effortlessly, like a gentle stream weaving through a lush, verdant landscape. Seonwoo, his initial nervousness now a distant memory, eagerly asked about your creative process, the spark of inspiration behind your work, and the favorite moments that had defined your career.

You listened with genuine interest, your eyes reflecting the depth of your engagement. Each question was met with thoughtful consideration, your answers weaving a tapestry of insights and stories. You spoke of the quiet moments when inspiration struck, the late nights spent perfecting lyrics, and the joyous occasions that had marked your journey. Your voice carried a melodic rhythm, drawing Seonwoo further into the enchanting world of your artistry.

As Seonwoo hung on to every word, his admiration grew even deeper. The exchange was more than just a conversation; it was a heartfelt connection. You expressed your gratitude for his unwavering support, acknowledging how fans like him fueled your passion and drive. The sincerity in your tone made each expression of thanks feel like a precious gift, further cementing the bond between artist and admirer.

As the call neared its end, Seonwoo felt a bittersweet blend of happiness and sadness wash over him. The joy of having spoken to you, his idol, was tempered by the wistful realization that this cherished moment was drawing to a close. His heart swelled with gratitude for the precious opportunity, yet he couldn't help but wish for just a bit more time.

"Thank you so much for this," Seonwoo said, his voice carrying a depth of emotion. "It means the world to me."

Your smile softened, imbued with a gentle warmth that seemed to reach through the screen. "Thank you, Seonwoo," you replied, your words sincere and heartfelt. "Your support and dedication are truly inspiring. Keep being awesome, and I'll keep doing my best for fans like you."

The sentiment lingered in the air, wrapping Seonwoo in a comforting embrace. As the screen dimmed and the call ended, he was left with a lasting impression of your kindness and authenticity, a memory he would treasure forever.

The screen slowly faded to black, and Seonwoo leaned back in his chair, a profound sense of fulfillment washing over him. The virtual meeting with you, even through a screen, had surpassed all his hopes and dreams. He felt a warm glow of contentment, knowing that his dedication had been recognized and appreciated. This acknowledgment fueled his passion, igniting a desire to continue supporting you in every way possible.

With his heart still brimming with emotion, Seonwoo turned to his fan accounts, his fingers dancing over the keyboard. He composed a heartfelt message, pouring out his gratitude and excitement. He shared the experience in vivid detail, recounting the precious moments and expressing his appreciation for the opportunity. The response from fellow fans was immediate and enthusiastic, their shared joy amplifying his own.

양정원 ── YANG JUNGWON.

Jungwon sat anxiously in his living room, his fingers drumming a restless rhythm against the arm of the couch. The soft glow of the television cast flickering shadows on the walls, heightening the anticipation that pulsed through him. Tonight was the night. His heart pounded with a mix of excitement and nerves as he kept his eyes fixed on the screen, waiting for the moment that could change everything.

The variety show, known for its lively and unpredictable content, was airing tonight's episode, and you were the guest star. For weeks, Jungwon had poured his heart and soul into creating the perfect video, meticulously crafting a fun and unique challenge for you to perform. He had spent countless hours brainstorming, filming, and editing, ensuring every detail was flawless. This wasn't just any video; it was a labor of love, a tribute to his admiration for you.

As one of your biggest fans, Jungwon knew every nuance of your career, every highlight and milestone. He admired your talent, your charisma, and the way you brought joy to your audience. This was his chance to connect with you in a way that went beyond the screen, to share a piece of himself and maybe, just maybe, catch your attention.

The minutes felt like hours as he waited, each passing second intensifying the knot of anticipation in his stomach. He imagined your reaction, the possibility of seeing you smile or laugh because of something he had created. The thought filled him with a warmth that chased away some of the nerves, replacing them with a hopeful excitement.

Finally, the moment arrived. The host announced the next segment, and Jungwon's video began to play. His breath caught in his throat as he watched, his heart racing with a blend of fear and exhilaration. This was it—the culmination of his efforts, his passion, and his dreams.

The show began with a burst of vibrant colors and lively music, the kind that set hearts racing with excitement. Jungwon's pulse quickened, each beat echoing the rhythm of the show's energetic theme. As the charismatic host took the stage, Jungwon's grip on the remote tightened, his knuckles turning white.

The host's voice, warm and enthusiastic, filled the room as he introduced the much-anticipated segment where fans could send in challenges for their favorite idols. This was the moment Jungwon had been waiting for, the culmination of weeks of effort and countless hours of perfecting his video. The possibility of his challenge being featured on the show was a dream he had nurtured with care and dedication.

Jungwon's eyes were glued to the screen, his breath coming in shallow, anxious bursts. The room seemed to shrink around him, narrowing his focus to the television as the first fan-submitted video played. The anticipation was almost unbearable, a palpable tension that thrummed through his veins. He could feel the weight of the moment, the delicate balance between hope and uncertainty.

As each video played, Jungwon's heart raced faster, a tumultuous mix of excitement and nervousness swirling within him. He could hear the blood rushing in his ears, drowning out everything but the sound of his own rapid heartbeat. The seconds stretched into what felt like hours, each one a step closer to the possibility of seeing his creation on the screen.

Finally, the host announced the next submission, and the screen flickered to life with a familiar scene. Jungwon's heart leaped into his throat as he recognized his own video, the one he had crafted with such care and passion. A wave of emotions crashed over him—relief, joy, and a renewed sense of anticipation. This was his moment, a chance to connect with his idol in a way he had always dreamed of.

"And now, we have a special challenge sent in by a dedicated fan named Jungwon," the host announced with a flourish, his voice resonating with enthusiasm. Jungwon's heart leaped at the sound of his name, a jolt of exhilaration electrifying his entire being. The moment he had been dreaming of was finally unfolding before his eyes.

The screen transitioned smoothly to his video, the familiar sight filling the room with a vibrant energy. Jungwon watched as his own face appeared on the screen, a mixture of excitement and nervousness visible in his eyes. He began to explain the challenge he had painstakingly crafted: a fun and quirky dance routine, a fusion of creativity and admiration.

In the video, Jungwon's passion was palpable. His voice, steady yet brimming with enthusiasm, described the dance he had choreographed himself. He had meticulously blended some of your signature moves, the ones that had always captivated him, with innovative new steps he hoped you would enjoy. Each move was chosen with care, designed to showcase your unique style while adding a fresh twist that was distinctly his own.

The camera captured his fluid movements as he demonstrated the routine, each step a testament to his dedication and love for your art. He twirled and leaped with a grace that belied the hours of practice and refinement that had gone into perfecting the choreography. The music pulsed through the speakers, its rhythm aligning with the beat of his heart as he danced with abandon.

Jungwon's hope was that this dance, a heartfelt tribute to you, would not only bring a smile to your face but also forge a connection that transcended the screen. He had poured his soul into every movement, every transition, infusing the routine with his admiration and respect for your talent. As the video played on, he couldn't help but feel a swell of pride and anticipation, knowing that his creation was now in your hands.

As the video began to play, Jungwon's gaze was locked on your reaction. Every subtle change in your expression was a new chapter in the unfolding narrative of his dreams. You leaned forward, eyes sparkling with a mix of curiosity and amusement that sent a thrill down his spine. "This looks interesting," you said, your smile radiant and infectious. The warmth in your voice was like a melody, and Jungwon's heart swelled with joy.

The camera captured your every move as you rose gracefully from your seat, your demeanor radiating excitement. You positioned yourself with an air of readiness, your body poised to dance. Jungwon could hardly contain his breath, his excitement mounting with each passing second. The anticipation was palpable, a living, breathing entity that filled the room.

As the music began, you mirrored the moves from his video, your movements a blend of elegance and playful energy. Laughter bubbled from your lips as you navigated the steps, your joy evident in every misstep and triumph. The way you tried to get the steps right, each attempt imbued with determination and delight, made the moment even more enchanting.

The audience erupted into cheers, their enthusiasm a resounding chorus that filled the studio. The host, ever supportive, joined in the encouragement, his voice adding to the lively atmosphere. Jungwon felt a surge of pride swell within him, a tidal wave of emotions that washed over him with an almost overwhelming force.

He watched as you immersed yourself in the dance, your laughter and smiles a testament to the connection he had hoped to forge. Each move you made, every joyous exclamation, was a validation of his efforts and dreams. In that moment, Jungwon's world seemed to align perfectly, his passion and dedication shining through in the shared experience of his carefully crafted dance routine.

"This is really fun! Jungwon, you did a fantastic job with this choreography," you exclaimed, your voice slightly breathless but filled with genuine admiration. A rosy flush colored your cheeks, and a radiant smile spread across your face as you caught your breath. "I absolutely love it!"

Your words echoed in Jungwon's mind, each syllable a note in a symphony of validation and joy. He could feel his heart swell with pride, the sheer ecstasy of hearing you praise his work enveloping him like a warm embrace. The admiration in your eyes was a shimmering reflection of the effort and passion he had poured into creating the dance routine.

The host, beaming with delight, turned to address the audience. "Looks like Jungwon has a promising future in choreography!" he declared, his voice brimming with enthusiasm. "Thank you for sending in such a creative and entertaining challenge."

The applause that followed was thunderous, a wave of appreciation that seemed to lift Jungwon's spirits even higher. He could hardly believe that his creation had not only reached you but had also brought you joy and laughter. The host's words, echoing the sentiment of the moment, felt like a prophecy, a glimpse into a future where his passion for dance could lead to something extraordinary.

Jungwon's mind raced with possibilities, his imagination painting vivid pictures of what could come next. The dream he had nurtured in the quiet moments of practice and creation was now blossoming into reality, each cheer and clap a testament to his talent and hard work. The connection he felt in that instant, not just with you but with everyone who had witnessed the dance, was a beautiful tapestry woven from threads of admiration, creativity, and shared joy.

Jungwon couldn't contain his joy. The sight of you enjoying his challenge and hearing your praise felt like a dream come true. His heart swelled with an indescribable elation, and he quickly grabbed his phone, his fingers trembling with excitement. He posted a clip of the segment on his fan accounts, eager to share this incredible moment with his fellow fans. The response was immediate and overwhelming, a cascade of congratulatory messages and expressions of delight flooding his notifications.

The comments were a chorus of shared joy and admiration. Friends and fans alike marveled at the creativity of his challenge and celebrated the fact that it had been featured on the show. Jungwon felt a profound sense of connection, a bond strengthened by the collective excitement of the fandom. Each notification was a reminder that he was not alone in his admiration for you; he was part of a vibrant community that shared his passion.

As the show continued, his phone buzzed incessantly with messages from friends and fellow fans. The outpouring of support and shared enthusiasm was heartwarming, filling him with a deep sense of pride. Not only had his challenge been showcased, but it had also brought joy to you, making the moment all the more special. The realization that his creation had made an impact on you was a source of immense satisfaction and fulfillment.

Later that night, Jungwon found himself replaying the segment over and over. Each viewing brought a fresh wave of happiness, the smile on his face growing wider with every replay. The experience had exceeded his wildest hopes, igniting a newfound sense of inspiration within him. He felt a burning desire to continue creating, to keep pushing the boundaries of his passion and supporting you in any way he could.

The memory of watching you perform his challenge was a highlight of his journey as a fan, a luminous moment that he knew he would treasure forever. It was a testament to the power of dedication, creativity, and the unbreakable bond between an artist and their admirers. As he drifted off to sleep that night, the smile never left his face, and his heart was full of dreams for what the future might hold.

西村力 ── NISHIMURA RIKI.

Riki sat cross-legged on his bedroom floor, the soft glow of his phone illuminating his eager face. His fingers trembled slightly as he clutched the device, heart pounding with a mix of disbelief and excitement. Just moments ago, a notification had appeared on the screen: you had reacted to the dance cover he had posted on TikTok. The realization felt almost surreal.

For weeks, Riki had dedicated countless hours to perfecting the choreography to one of your latest songs. Each movement had been carefully honed, every step imbued with his boundless energy and unwavering passion. The process had been a labor of love, a testament to his admiration for you and your artistry.

Now, in the quiet sanctity of his room, he found himself confronted with the astonishing truth: his idol had seen his work. The walls around him seemed to pulse with the same rhythm that had driven his practice, as if sharing in his triumph. The air was thick with the echoes of his dedication, a tangible reminder of the countless nights spent rehearsing, perfecting, and dreaming.

As he sat there, the magnitude of the moment washed over him. It was as if the universe had conspired to align his efforts with a dream come true, a beacon of recognition shining brightly in his life. The world outside might have remained unchanged, but within the confines of his room, everything felt different—charged with possibility and the promise of what could be.

With a swift, almost reverent motion, he opened the app, his fingers dancing with a blend of urgency and anticipation. He navigated to your profile, each tap of the screen a deliberate step towards the moment he had been waiting for. There it was—a duet video that had emerged from the digital ether, a striking juxtaposition of his dance cover alongside your reaction.

As he tapped on the video, his heart quickened, a rhythmic drumbeat echoing his mounting excitement. The screen came alive with the vivid, familiar tableau of his own room, now transformed into a stage of personal significance. The opening notes of the song filled the space, the melody unfurling like a delicate ribbon, weaving through the air as he began the intricate routine he had labored over.

The choreography that had once been a solitary endeavor now pulsated with new life, accompanied by the visual testament of your response. Each movement he had practiced with meticulous care unfolded in harmony with your reactions, creating a seamless blend of artistry and acknowledgment. The scene was a breathtaking testament to his dedication, captured in the intimate setting of his room yet resonating with the grand significance of a dream realized.

As the video unfolded, you emerged on the split screen, your gaze fixed with a blend of concentration and admiration. The moment your eyes fell upon the opening moves, they widened in astonishment, and a radiant smile blossomed across your face. "Wow, Riki, you’re really good!" you exclaimed, your voice bubbling with genuine enthusiasm as you clapped your hands in appreciation.

Riki's heart swelled with an overwhelming sense of pride and joy. He watched, spellbound, as you attempted to mirror his moves, your own energetic efforts weaving through the choreography. The sincerity of your reaction was palpable, your infectious energy casting a warm glow over the video. As you struggled to keep pace with some of the more intricate steps, your laughter rang out, a melodious testament to your enjoyment.

"This is amazing!" you declared, your voice tinged with exhilaration. Your attempts to keep up with the more complicated segments were endearing, each misstep only adding to the charm of the moment. "You’ve got some serious skills," you added, the admiration in your tone leaving no doubt about the impact Riki’s performance had made.

As the video continued to play, your voice wove a tapestry of praise and encouragement, each word resonating with warmth and sincerity. Your genuine enthusiasm was evident in every comment you made, and the way you cheered him on with heartfelt fervor only heightened Riki's sense of disbelief.

To see his idol reacting so positively, to hear you express admiration for his dance cover, was a dream realized beyond anything he had ever imagined. Each of your encouraging words was like a golden thread, stitching together the fabric of his hopes and aspirations.

Riki felt a euphoric surge of joy and excitement, a bubbling elation that seemed to illuminate every corner of his being. It was as if every ounce of effort, every painstaking moment of practice had been acknowledged and celebrated by the very person he admired. The sense of validation that enveloped him was profound, a poignant reminder that his relentless dedication had truly borne fruit.

As the final frames of the video faded, Riki remained seated in a state of stunned reverence, his mind still reeling from the extraordinary moment. The room seemed to hold its breath as he absorbed the magnitude of what had just unfolded. It felt as though time itself had paused, allowing him to savor the profound significance of your reaction.

With a rush of excitement, he swiftly shared the duet on his own TikTok account. His fingers moved with a blend of urgency and care as he crafted a caption imbued with heartfelt gratitude, a testament to the overwhelming joy and appreciation he felt.

Almost instantly, his phone began to buzz with a flurry of activity. Notifications erupted like a cascade of shooting stars, each one a glowing testament to the support and admiration pouring in from friends and fellow fans. Likes, comments, and messages flooded his screen, each one a vibrant expression of shared excitement and encouragement. The once-quiet room was now alive with the digital applause of those who celebrated his achievement alongside him.

Riki dedicated the remainder of the evening to a whirlwind of joy and celebration, his fingers dancing across the keyboard as he replied to the influx of comments and messages. Each notification was a burst of radiant support from the community, a testament to the genuine connection he felt with those who shared his excitement. His friends joined in the festivities, their enthusiasm mirroring his own, creating an atmosphere brimming with shared triumph.

The acknowledgment from you, his idol, filled him with an exhilarating sense of accomplishment. It was as though he had reached the pinnacle of a long-cherished dream, and the warmth of your appreciation deepened his admiration. He had always marveled at your talent and dedication from afar, but now, that admiration had evolved into something profoundly personal. The recognition you offered was a bridge between his passion and your artistry, and it made him feel as if he was floating on a cloud of euphoria.

Before retiring for the night, Riki watched the duet one final time. He immersed himself in the vivid moments of your reaction, savoring the way your eyes sparkled with enthusiasm and how your laughter seemed to dance along with the music. Each replay was a precious moment, a reminder of the incredible connection they had forged. This experience, etched into his memory like a cherished photograph, would be a beacon guiding his journey forward. The encounter with his idol had been a dream manifested into reality, and he eagerly anticipated the next chapter of his path, driven by the renewed vigor and passion it had ignited within him.

꒰ 🏷️ ꒱ ミ Permanent taglist: @d-dilemma (Click on the link to join! All you have to do is answer a few questions to help me stay organized!)

꒰ 🏷️ ꒱ ミ Post taglist: @levi-09 @itjengirl @engentiny @clampclover @neos127 @jwonistic @mimisxs

🍉 FROM THE RIVER TO THE SEA, PALESTINE WILL BE FREE! DAILY CLICKS! STAYBLR FUNDRAISER!

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witchhazelevesque · 11 days

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I often see Calypso’s curse described as ‘she’s forced to love anyone that comes to her island’ but that’s not exactly what happens:

“You asked about my curse, Percy. I did not want to tell you. The truth is the gods send me companionship from time to time. Every thousand years or so, they allow a hero to wash up on my shores, someone who needs my help. I tend to him and befriend him, but it is never random. The Fates make sure that the sort of hero they send…” “They send a person who can never stay,” she whispered. “Who can never accept my offer of companionship for more than a little while. They send me a hero I can’t help…just the sort of person I can’t help falling in love with.” … “The Fates are cruel. They sent you to me, my brave one, knowing that you would break my heart.”

Battle of the Labyrinth, 223

The most pertinent bits are in color.

It’s not that she’s magicked into loving someone against her will, it’s that the Fates handpick people she would have loved anyway. As in, they have qualities she admires/values and finds herself able to love (big asterisk here). And the Fates make sure that of those people she could love, they pick ones that can’t stay with her.

This isn’t exactly retconned in House of Hades, but she does shift the blame more to the gods and doesn’t mention the Fates in this exchange:

“They were all the same! The gods send me the greatest heroes, the ones I cannot help but…” “You fall in love with them,” Leo guessed. “And then they leave you.” Her chin trembled. “That is my curse. I had hoped to be free of it by now, but here I am, still stuck on Ogygia after three thousand years.”

House of Hades, 378

But the focus is still on the fact that the people who come to her island can’t stay. The way it’s phrased here, it does makes sense how it could be taken as ‘she’s forced to love anyone’, but that’s not what’s happening.

Her curse is centered around being abandoned while stuck on her island. It’s only a curse because she’s imprisoned. She cites that as the reason she isn’t free from this curse. It’s not a set-and-forget work of magic that controls her emotions. It’s more of an active situation for the gods or Fates, where they orchestrate the delivery of the source of her pain each millennia, and then the rest comes in Calypso dealing with the aftermath of her companions leaving.

That big asterisk: Percy and Leo should not be included in this category. They’re children.

So, why is any of this even happening?

Blame Riordan and his weird, failed attempt to depict Calypso as a teenager; he did a horrible job.

Granted, it wouldn’t have worked no matter what he did, just by the nature of immortality. But he, for some reason, keeps shooting himself in the foot by hammering in her age. I don’t have access to the ToA books but some examples: Apollo saying she was old enough to be his babysitter, the way she got dreamy eyed at remembering things that happened before her imprisonment, the fact that she was there when Zeus was a child (by immortal standards).

Calypso is aware of time passing, and she retains all her memories of the thousands of years she existed, both on and off Ogygia. Time is weird on her island, but it does still move forward. She is literally, emotionally and mentally thousands of years old.

The only leg work RR does to depict Calypso as a teenager is to make her look like a teenager and then try to set up romantic situations with actual teenagers. For comparison, RR has Hestia take the form of a child, but no one acts like she actually is a child.

Later, RR has Calypso do things like want to go to high school and band camp, but that doesn’t make sense. Her wanting to have new experiences does, yes, but not ones that are for teenagers. That’s not indicative of her being a child, it’s more of RR’s lukewarm effort to make her a teenager.

I don’t have some hard hitting point to this distinction, I just think it’s important to know what’s actually being portrayed and how it’s being done. Calypso isn’t forced magically, in universe to fall in love, but she is forced to narratively.

My overall point though is, as usual, be critical of Riordan’s choices. He set up this thing where he wants the audience to believe that Calypso is so compatible with Percy and Leo that even the gods take notice, but it doesn’t work because she isn’t a teenager like they are.

#rr crit #rick riordan critical #calypso pjo #pjo calypso #percy jackson #leo valdez #battle of the labyrinth #house of hades #percy jackson and the olympians #heroes of olympus #pjo #hoo #pjo hoo toa #anti caleo #anti perlypso #is that the tag?#idk how to format the quotes

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moghedien · 5 months

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I’m like sooo curious about the Aylin and Isobel after all this because we know they’re going help Selunite enclaves or whatever and I don’t think they’re ever gonna turn away from Selune really but I do wonder if there’s like a twinge of something about their relationship with the goddess now

because again I don’t think they’re gonna turn from her, but they both have their issues and trauma now. Aylin’s is a bit more obvious but I can’t stop thinking about how the game basically tells you that Isobel came back wrong and then never acknowledges that again.

Obviously she didn’t come back as wrong as some of her kin, but the first time we see her she seems ill with something. You can kinda dismiss that as being related to the Shadow curse without full context. Even if you read her diary, you can kinda dismiss it until you understand she’s Ketheric’s dead daughter.

Her diary:

Like she clearly isnt being spurned by Selune completely as she still has cleric magic and can still protect Last Light, but the phrase “there are some things she would never accept in her devoted” is so ominous. Isobel clearly knows that Selune is having some problem with her and the fact that the problem isn’t as clear as being denied her magic makes it even more ominous. If not that, then what is happening that makes this clear to her?

Then there’s Aylin, who is literally the daughter of Selune, who was sent by her mother to the Thorms. And obviously there isn’t any regret there because of Isobel, but then the Isobel dies under vague circumstances that may or may not be Shar related based on cut content. Then the people that Selune sent Aylin to protect cage her and torture her and use her as a lab rat and organ donor and ritual sacrifice over and over again for the next 100 years.

Aylin was supposed to be an envoy of her mother and ended up being the instrument in which Shar made weapon after weapon. She’s unwillingly spreading the darkness she’s against and all because Selune sent her to these people. Literally 100 years where all she can do is die again and again until she can convince one Sharran to listen to her and not just kill her again.

And like, you can also take into account the possibility that Aylin is an oathbreaker now. I don’t personally buy the theory but I know a lot of people do suspect that her reaction to killing Lorrokan was due to it breaking her oath. I think it’s more likely a trauma response but we can look at this either way.

Because killing Lorrokan should have been the righteous move. He was trying to use and defile her, one of Selune’s children, for his own petty reasons. He was going to commit the same sins as Ketheric. And it wasn’t like Aylin was the only potential victim of him. We know he hurt Rolan, and no doubt many others. What would a man like that do with immortality?

But then killing him just makes her feel empty? She protected herself. Protected Selune’s sword and anyone else that might have been suffering under him. And it doesn’t fill her with the same righteous ecstasy that it should. Suddenly being the righteous paladin doesn’t feel good, it just feels empty.

And if you believe that it did break her oath, then what? She’s being punished by Selune for defending herself and others? She stopped Selune’s envoy from being used in the same profane ritual she just escaped from and gets rejected and punished for that? She’s the one accused of violating Selune?

Again, I don’t personally think the reaction was caused by breaking her oath, but I think it’s a compelling angle to look at, at least.

And all of this to say that again, I don’t think either of them are going to turn against Selune and I don’t think they have a very strong reason to. But I do wonder how their relationship with her has changed in the last 100 years while Aylin was being forced to die for Shar over and over again and Isobel was forced to live by Mrykul, completely unprotected by the moonmaiden they had both been absolutely devoted to.

I just wonder what was going through their heads when they talked to Shadowheart about her past and the fact that she has a choice now, that Selune would take her back after a life time of Sharran indoctrination and crimes committed in her name. Now she has a choice. I wonder if in that moment, there wasn’t even the smallest bit of bitterness toward Selune on their part.

#dame aylin #isobel thorm #shadowheart #bg3 #baldur's gate 3

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throneofsapphics · 10 months

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old faces, part three

Rowaelin x f!Reader

Summary: you and Rowan meet again, and deal with the fall-out of your secret.

Warnings: violence, descriptions of violence, death, minor injury, drinking

Word Count: ~5.3k

A/N: more rowaelin in the next chapter! coming late tonight/tomorrow if everything goes according to plan

series masterlist

True to their word, you didn’t see Aelin or Rowan before their departure yesterday. Fenrys came by once, letting you know they’d spoken to the future Emperor and Empress, and that they’d be keeping an eye out for you. You never saw them, but you sensed their presence. It brought a small bit of comfort. Not enough to let your guard down.

Overwhelmed. That’s how you felt. Ceri and Ani seemed thrilled at the ‘new adventure,’ even more excited it was a secret, that they couldn’t tell anyone exactly when they were leaving and where they were going. Reya had been a mixture of contemplation and excitement but you - you were an anxious mess.

New challenges, and more exposure you couldn't avoid. You were nervous for Ceri, above all. Nervous about how she’d be treated, about what this meant for her. At least she’d have her best friend with her. The vague plan was to visit a few different parts of Terrasen, starting with Orynth, and if the trial went well, it would be a group decision on where to settle.

“You’re nervous.” Reya commented, you shot her a look and she held her hands up in a placating gesture. “Have you decided what to do with your home?”

Home. A pleasant surprise in your mother’s will. A home you fully intended to keep in the family. But, Reya’s asking if you’ll rent it out or not. It would be easy to let magic seal it up, but if you rented it, you could deposit the money into a bank account and leave you with a fund if you ended up back here.

The last week had been a gods-damned whirlwind, giving you barely a moment to rest. Liquidating your assets, downsizing, late nights finishing up projects, informing vendors you’d no longer have goods available, pulling the girls from school, and more.

“Renting would be a good option,” you finally replied. Reya nodded, she was doing the same thing - and you trusted her sister to take care of both properties - for a fee of course. At least there was someone you could trust.

“They’re going stir-crazy,” Reya commented. You could see it too, the frustration on their faces at being cooped up. “The park is right around the corner.”

“It’s risky,” you hesitated.

“We all need it.”

You couldn’t argue with that, or with the excitement on their faces as you told them. Still, you slipped a trusted knife into a sheath under your dress. On the way, Reya reminded them to keep their ‘adventure’ secret. To answer ‘I don’t know,’ if anyone asks questions, and to inform the two of you. No chances.

There were a few other women there you vaguely recognized, and children both Ani and Ceri sprinted towards. They climbed over the various obstacles, running around and making up different games. Ceri, of course, took the lead in organizing everyone, directing them like a general. What would Rowan think if he was here? Probably pride. And maybe alarm at just how wild his daughter ran. Her Fae heritage let run and climb faster, and it took away a certain sense of self-preservation.

“Will she be immortal as well?” Reya murmured quietly.

“Most likely,” you admitted. Maybe in a selfish way, you really hoped she would. If you had to watch her grow old … you shoved the thought to the back of your mind. There was enough to worry about for now.

Three hours later, the two of them exhausted enough energy to start asking for dinner, and agreed to leave. The break was good for you, the fresh air and walk in your city calming your nerves. Another chance to see it - your shelter and safe haven.

Ceri held your hand on the twenty minute walk, chattering about the games she’d played, her enthusiasm and joy confectious. Ani was doing the same to Reya in front of you.

Just around the corner, the hair on the back of your neck pricked. Something was wrong.

“Reya,” you called, voice just drifting over the wind, laced with warning. Her head swirled, the whites around her eyes showing and you mouthed; act natural. Letting your senses take over, you listened in for movements, for heartbeats, for whatever the hell was out there.

A magic you didn’t recognize was present, and probing at the wards on your home. A male, mortal, magic wielder. Across the street, but still too gods-damned close. You needed to get inside, to get into safety.

Throwing up what you hoped was a discreet shield, you kept your pace and body language natural as you approached. First thing you learned; don’t let them know. But, Ceri had picked up on it, her hand tightening around yours, head on a swivel. Quickly, you spared a glance at her; trust me, you tried to say, and she gave you a small nod. You prayed you’d show yourself worthy of that trust in the next few minutes. Maybe some of the emperor and empresses ‘eyes’ were nearby. But, no sense in hoping or relying for something that might not be true.

Thirty paces away, male disappeared, cloaked from your sight- but you could sense his location. Reya fell back with Ani to walk next to you. It was Ceri they were after, and that brought lethal focus to your mind. Let those instincts rise, the instinct to protect your family and friends.

Ten paces, Reya’s nerves were showing but she kept herself loose, putting her trust in you.

Everything happened within a minute, but each second dragged on. You had the seconds to shove them back behind the gate, throwing the wards up. Reya knew to drag the girl’s inside - Ceri’s yells and shouts echoing in your ears. If you went in as well, there wasn’t anyone to stop him from trying to shatter the magic, and you couldn’t do shit from behind them.

The bits of training you picked up over the years came into play, the glint of a knife in front of you, and you thanked the immortal reactions and senses you’d been born with - gifting you an advantage. A knife flew to your shoulder, you dodged, shifting again as he threw another - shallowly slicing across your cheek. You palmed your one fighting knife, the pain fading into the background, and slashed across his forearm, severing his tendons. The dagger clattered, metal echoing off the cobblestones, copper scent filling the air.

He spat a curse, and you danced around each other, before landing another slice. Blood spurted from his arm in rivets - eerily like a fountain, and you heard the whistle.

An archer on the opposite roof, gesturing to the side. They needed a shot that wouldn’t risk hitting you. You hoped they’d leave him alive - you had several questions for him. They got their shot a second later, and you watched as an arrow lodged through the man’s skull, his body flopping to the pavement in front of you. So much for your questions.

You prayed Reya had shielded their view.

A plain-clothed guard was there in seconds, and you let your back hit the wall behind you, adrenaline still coursing through your veins, and used your dress to clean the blood from your knife. It was ruined anyway, a little more blood wouldn’t make a difference. The strange sense and scent of death filled the air as slid it back into your sheath, focusing on one movement at a time, keeping yourself grounded.

You tried, you really tried, not to hate Rowan in that moment. It’s not his fault, not his fault he’s the father. He’d mentioned the target, the risk and dangers, but it hadn’t quite set in until that moment. Stupid, you were stupid for leaving the house. If anything, it was your fault. By some miracle, none of your neighbors were peeking their nosy heads out.

Reya’s muffled voice came from the garden. Gods, she must be screaming at the top of her lungs for you to hear her. You turned, giving her a ‘thumbs up.’ It felt childish, considering someone had just threatened your lives, but she returned with a tense smile, one arm barely holding back a furious Ceri. Ani tucked behind her, head just poking out.

“I’m fine,” you mouthed to your daughter. She signed back - you were a bit surprised she remembered that language, it had been a while since you used it.

You’re bleeding.

Not my blood. I need you to keep Ani calm.

Give her something to do, a task, and she’d focus on it. Sure enough, it worked and she tugged her friend back inside.

The guards had multiplied, at least seven of them on the surrounding street now. And - a certain blonde haired male sprinting down the street. Fenrys stood by your side as you answered all of their questions. The magic shielding the house behind you didn’t waver, not for one second.

“You should get that looked at,” Fenrys murmured, as the body was carted off, a small crowd dispersing, and one official-looking woman promising updates.

“Hm?” Your eyes flicked to him. He gestured to your cheek, to the cut already healing.

“It scarred.”

The small sting had faded to the back of your mind. Frowning, you ran two fingers over your face, an angry raised red line. That shouldn’t be there, not unless … you crouched to the ground, snatching the same knife that cut you.

“Iron,” you murmured.

“Still shouldn’t leave a scar,” Fenrys took a step closer, eyeing the weapon.

You twisted the blade in your hand, surprised the guards hadn’t already picked it up. Marks etched into the handle, marks you recognized.

“He was a magic wielder,” you had his full attention now, “it’s not … cursed, but enchanted to leave a scar.”

Your fist white-knuckled around the handle. He meant to mar your daughter.

“Can you let us inside?” Fenrys requested, distracting you from the pure wrath filling every inch of your body. The guards had finished their questioning, some now obviously stationed down the street - another archer joining the previous one.

You willed the magic to bend slightest bit, enough for the two of you to slip inside, before slamming it shut again.

“How soon can you be ready to leave?” Fenrys’s voice was insistent. You had a feeling he’d drag you to the ship soon if he had to.

“Aren’t we traveling with you?”

Fenrys nodded, and paused for a moment. “Can you be ready tomorrow by dusk?”

You’d wrapped up the last of the ‘official’ business this morning, intending to give you a week to sort things out at a leisurely pace. But, words were too much right now, everything was too gods-damned much, so you answered with a nod. By tomorrow would be stressful, but doable.

“We’ll leave then. I’ll announce we’re leaving at dawn the day after.” Smart, giving a false departure. “Only us, the captain and the crew will know, and they won’t know who it is until we board,” Fenrys continued - maybe more to reassure himself than you. Part of you wondered why he was going through the effort but … Rowan was his bloodsworn brother, maybe he felt some kind of duty to the two of you.

“How’d you get here so quickly?” You asked the question lingering in the back of your mind.

“I didn’t. I was already on my way.” Fenrys’s mouth opened, and you could read the next word,

“Say sorry and I’ll kick you in the balls.”

He winced, and feigned sealing his mouth shut.

The door slammed open, knocking into the wall, and Ceri sprinted out, silver hair flowing behind her. You braced yourself as she slammed into you, arms wrapping around your stomach.

“I kept Ani calm,” she whispered, squeezing you tighter.

“I’m proud of you,” you ran your non-bloody hand through her hair.

After a few minutes, she released you. Her small hand reached up, and you stayed still as she ran a finger on the scar. “Why would he do that?”

When you hesitated, Ceri turned to Fenrys, as if he might have the answer. Her green eyes nearly bore a hole through his head.

“Sometimes people do bad things and we don’t know why,” he answered slowly, “but everyone’s safe now.”

“What happened to him?” She turned back to you.

“He died,” a small tension left your chest - she hadn’t seen it.

“You killed him?” Her head tilted, no judgment - just curiosity and a desire to gather all of the facts.

“No, I didn’t,” you anticipated the next question, “and neither did he. One of the royal guards did.”

Ceri mumbled something suspiciously like; I wish I killed him, and grabbed your hand - dragging you back inside. You shot an alarmed glance at Fenrys, whose mouth curved up at the corners. Seven years old, and already bloodthirsty. Maybe you should’ve questioned what kind of bed-time story Rowan told.

“Just like her father,” he murmured, quiet enough only you heard.

An inelegant snort left you, “I was thinking the same thing.”

Reya’s eyes scanned you from top to bottom, and you were aware of the blood staining your skin and clothes.

“Ceri,” she called, gaining her attention, “can you help me run a bath for your mother?” She looked at you for permission, you forced a soft smile, watching her take off after your friend, Ani’s dark hair flashing as well, never one to be left out.

“Are you going to insist on spending the night?” You didn’t look at him.

An edged chuckle, “I'm afraid I will.”

“Males,” you muttered under your breath, but shot him a grateful smile. Another set of eyes, another person to watch out for Ceri. Not that you’d get any sleep tonight. Reya returned a minute later, shoving a bundle of clothes in your hands, ushering you off towards the bathing room.

Ceri was proud of the rose scents she’d chosen. Once, you’d loved Lilac - but you shedded that when you left Wendlyn. It hadn’t felt right anymore, it felt like an old version of you. The female left behind. Plus, it made you nauseous during your pregnancy.

Fenrys didn’t leave for the rest of the night, entertaining the girls as you and Reya cooked, helping with the dishes, a perfect guest. Even with a spare room available, he insisted he’d crash on the couch closest to the door. He didn’t comment as you exited your room each hour, traveling past the sitting room to peek into where Ani and Ceri slept, both sound asleep.

You caught maybe two or three hours of sleep total, but pure adrenaline kept you going the next morning. It spurred you and Reya into near-frantic packing, listening to Fenrys’s request to stay put when he left for a few hours. One small trunk each, plus one extra for books - your personal ones and school books. Everything else ended up in the attic, sealed off by magic. The tears stayed at bay as you deactivated the wards, dropping off the keys to Reya’s sister - who was informed less than an hour before, and vowed herself to secrecy. Everything about this felt so … cloak and dagger. Ceri and Ani viewed it as some grand adventure, but you and Reya were tense, entire bodies taut with nerves.

With twenty minutes to go, you closed the door to the bathroom, hands bracing on the counter. An angry red scar ran diagonally across your cheek, still slightly lifted from your skin. If you adjusted your hair, just a bit, it mostly cloaked it from sight. Another permanent reminder.

A nondescript carriage, made less discreet by armed guards, picked up the five of you just after sunset and took the long way through the city. It gave you a chance to see everything gaze through the window, making out a few details by moonlight. There’s no telling how long it would be before you see it again. Maybe a year, maybe a decade, but one day you’d at least come back to visit.

Not a permanent goodbye.

Fenrys ushered you onto the ship, joined by a few others you didn’t recognize. Soldiers, disguised as courtiers. Or maybe soldiers turned courtiers.

“Did you send word ahead?” You murmured, the captain directing you to a spot still on deck, but out of the way. The girls bounced with excitement, barely managing to keep themselves still.

“No sense in it,” Fenrys countered, “we’re on the fastest ship available. It would probably get there after us.”

You learned quickly what fastest meant. Magic wielders were on board, the ‘soldier-courtiers.’

Most of the first day was spent holding back Reya and Ani’s hair, convincing them to take some of the nausea tonic you’d brought with you.

The second day, Fenrys showed Ani and Ceri some more advanced self-defense.

The third day, the girls had convinced the sailors to tell them stories.

The fourth, you rolled dice and made bets - Fenrys sharing his liquor with you.

The fifth, you thought you might lose your mind of boredom - until Fenrys dragged you out to see how much self defense you knew. According to him - better than expected. He quickly added a ‘not surprising,’ considering who your father was. That particular detail, you usually forgot about - or tried to.

The next several days passed in similar fashion, interrupted on day eight by Ceri trying desperately to convince you to shift to your animal form - then to teach her to shift to her animal form. It’s too dangerous at sea, you told her. When it didn’t work with you - she moved to Fenrys, who repeated your words, adding that she needed to be a bit older. After that, she gave up, thank the Gods. The last thing you need is to rescue an adolescent bird from the water.

On day twenty, you spotted land. The first look at Terrasen. Mountains, still snow-capped in the summer, green forest, a small city. Illium, according to the maps you’d acquired. Then, you’d cut into the Florine river, taking you right to Orynth. Where you’d reconnect with Rowan and Aelin, and figure out what comes next.

According to Fenrys, it’s normally a two week journey, but they dragged it out enough that the five of you would arrive closer to the expected time, after the rest of their court did. He declined to inform you of that until a few days before.

“Will they know we’re coming?” You asked, propped up against crates, Fenrys stretched out next to you, tan face tilted up towards the sun, Reya on your other side, Ceri and Ani a few paces away, playing a card game they learned the night before.

A genuine friendship had formed between the three of you over the last few weeks. Fenrys could’ve easily ignored you, but instead he sought out both of your company. The girls attached to him as well, eagerly taking in all of his lessons, pestering him with questions about Terrasen, all of which he answered patiently and thoroughly.

“Depends,” he turned to shoot a lazy grin at the two of you, “on how much chaos Aelin decides to cause. It’s been a while since she surprised anyone, I wouldn’t be shocked if she convinced Rowan to keep it a secret.”

Gods, you tilted your head back this time, letting it rest against the top of the crate. There’s a chance you’d arrive to Orynth, the entire court with no fucking idea who you were, who Ceri was. It had the potential to be incredibly awkward, or hilarious. You refused to stress over it, it was out of your hands for now.

Their court gathered to discuss the results of their visit to the southern continent, as planned, arriving earlier that afternoon. The scouts reported the ship carrying Fenrys and company would arrive tomorrow after dusk - perfect timing for a discreet entry. But … two days early. That unsettled both her and Rowan. There wasn’t a good reason for them to arrive early, especially without any kind of notice. Although, with the crew they had - any notice sent would likely arrive after them. Instincts told her something went wrong, and she saw it echoed in Rowan’s face. They tabled it for later. There wasn’t anything they could do until they saw them. Until they had a chance to launch questions at Fenrys.

Aelin wouldn’t call it a fight, but she’d argued with Rowan over whether or not to tell their court about their surprise.

“At least before they arrive, Fireheart,” Rowan sounded exasperated.

“At breakfast, then,” she wound her arms around his neck, tilting her head up to grin at him. Tomorrow, they’d be here, and she was looking forward to your company. Aelin thought she might feel jealous of the connection you shared with Rowan through Ceri, but she didn’t. Instead, she wanted to be your friend - there was something soothing about your company, and she saw why Rowan grew … close to you. Even before she met the two of you, he’d been upfront about how you traced the line between friends and lovers, how you both knew it was a temporary arrangement.

Her mind tried to tell her it was wrong that she felt this comfortable with Rowan being near an ex-lover, that her Fae instincts should be rearing with territorial jealousy. Thankfully they weren’t - otherwise it could make their current situation very difficult.

“Should I be the one to make the announcement?” Rowan pressed a kiss to her hair.

“I’m much better at them,” Aelin gave a smile, honeyed with false innocence.

“You’ve given us enough surprises for a lifetime,” he muttered - but she knew he’d follow her lead. As much as he denied it, Rowan didn’t mind shaking everything up once in a while.

“Evangeline will be excited,” she pressed up on her toes, placing a kiss at the corner of his mouth.

“She’s much older,” he murmured.

“I imagine she’ll take them under her wing.” Aelin pulled back to watch Rowan’s face. Nervous, her mate was nervous, one of the few times she’d seen him like that. It was oddly endearing. She was nervous too, of course, but it was … refreshing to be nervous over something not quite life and death.

She decided now was the wrong time to remind him they’d be able to explore different parts of Terrasen - to decide where they’d want to live after Ceri’s ‘trial.’ If they stayed in Terrasen.

Rowan sensed her shift in mood, and tilted her chin up to look at her. “It’ll be fine.” Aelin forced air in and out of her lungs, and nodded.

“Bed,” he muttered, and tugged her off towards their room.

“What is it?” Aedion sat down his glass, looking between Rowan and Aelin. Rowan kept his mouth shut, sending a pointed look at Aelin. She wanted to make the announcement, she could do it. “Please tell me you’re not planning something,” Aedion groaned.

“It wasn’t planned,” Rowan muttered before he could stop himself.

Aelin’s foot stomped on his insole, and he pinched her thigh under the table.

Aelin propped her forearms on the oak wood, and everyone’s attention turned to her. Their entire court was here - minus Fenrys. Ren, Aedion, Lysandra, Evangeline, Elide, and Lorcan - who wouldn’t let Elide go anywhere alone.

“We have some guests arriving with Fenrys.”

“Who?” Lysandra asked, lifting a glass of water to her lips.

Fuck it, Rowan could say this for himself..

“While we were in Antica, I ran into an old … friend,” Lorcan’s eyes dug a hole into his skull, and he avoided his former commander’s gaze. “I have a seven year old daughter.”

Lysandra yelped and shot back as Aedion spewed water across the table, Elide’s eyes were wide, Lorcan looked contemplative, Ren and Elide blinked several times, Evangeline - as Aelin expected, looked thrilled.

“Ceri, Rowan’s daughter, her mother - y/n, her friend Reya, and her daughter Ani will arrive this evening,” Aelin cut in. Rowan caught Lorcan’s gaze as soon as Aelin said your name. Dark eyes flashed in recognition. Interesting.

Aelin continued to explain the deal they’d come to. His wife even asked if they’d be willing to let the group explore living in their respective lands, conveniently mentioning some of your skill sets and how you’d been open to working here.

“Gods, Aelin.” Aedion sighed at the end. “And Rowan,” he added, ignoring his glare. “A little warning would’ve been nice.”

Still, he had a contemplative look on his face. You’d done the same thing his mother had - to protect his daughter from Maeve. A silent understanding passed through them, that Rowan was getting the chance Gavriel didn’t, that he’d honor it.

“How did she go … undiscovered, in Antica this long?” Ren asked cautiously.

“Well, Sartaq suspected there was a Whitethorn relative living in the city, but as Fenrys said,” Aelin ignored the elbow he discreetly jabbed into her side, “Rowan has an army of cousins - there were plenty of possible sire’s.” That drew a few chuckles and eye rolls.

“She wasn’t going to tell you?” Elide pushed.

“We don’t know.” Aelin said honestly. It was luck … or fate, that he ran into you during that trip. He had a feeling your paths would’ve crossed eventually, but the timeline was pushed up.

“I’m surprised she agreed that quickly,” Lorcan said.

“It wasn’t safe in Antica, anymore. There were already people gathering outside their home.”

“It won’t be completely safe anywhere.” Lysandra replied, “but it’s safer here.”

“Considering who her father was, I imagine she can handle herself,” Lorcan drawled. Aelin’s brow furrowed, and Rowan frowned. He hadn’t shared that, it hadn’t really struck him as particularly important.

“Are you going to explain?” Elide pinned him with a look, and Lorcan - firmly on her leash, kept talking.

“Her father was a skilled warrior. He mated to a demi-Fae from Antica, met while visiting Varese, and finished out his military service not long after,” Lorcan said, adding “he declined the blood oath for centuries, eventually Maeve gave up on him,” as an afterthought.

“Was?” Elide asked quietly.

Lorcan looked at Rowan, almost asking for permission to share this part of your story - or giving him the chance to. He wondered how Lorcan knew, when it took him a lot of convincing to find out.

“Her parents died when she was young,” he made a point to meet each of their eyes. “Don’t push her about it.” His warning tone was enough that nobody, even Aelin, pushed the question further.

Rowan remembered enough to know how you locked up at any mention of their lives and deaths, how it took a decent amount of liquor to pull any personal details out of you. One night - after you’d had a good amount of particularly strong brew, you spilled.

For some reason, Rowan had a fixation on knowing your story. He wanted to know everything he could about you. A terrifying feeling, but he didn’t see the harm in learning, gathering information was a habit built over centuries. Even if this particular story wasn’t pleasant. If it involved you, he wanted to know. Learning your fathers name surprised him, and as soon as you said it - he didn’t know the story, but knew how it ended.

“They bought me time. There must’ve been nearly three hundred of them - mortal soldiers,” one Fae warrior was as good as a hundred mortal soldiers, but against those odds, against three hundred …

“They hit them both with Iron first, and my mother made me promise to run for the hills - told me if I came back I would be dead, and then they would win.” Rowan kept his face neutral, but inside he winced. That was a harsh way to put it, but effective. “I made it to the hills, and hid in a tree. But … I could see everything. Eventually, they were overrun. I watched the whole thing. They spiked their heads on our fence posts, but left the house intact. For seven days, they waited to see if someone would come back. I still don’t know why.”

He did, her father had built a reputation, and wiping out his entire family line would’ve been a prize to them. He didn’t tell you that.

“After I was certain they were gone, I buried them, took what I could carry, and left. I’m still not certain what happened to the rest of the soldiers. Maybe twenty were left by the end.”

Rowan knew. Lorcan hunted them down. Made a brutal example out of them. By the time he opened his mouth to tell you, you were already asleep.

“We could use more women - and females, around here,” Lysandra switched the subject with a grin.

“What’s she like?” Evangeline asked.

“We didn’t get to spend much time with her, but we’ll find out.” Aelin answered.

Time. Rowan would take full advantage of every second he could spend with Ceri. He’d missed too much already.

The ship steadily made its way up the river, your eyes glued on the surroundings. Terrasen was … absolutely beautiful and different than anywhere you’d seen before. Snow, that would be new to you. The sun was setting as you approached the city, steady but slow.

“We’re going to arrive after dark,” Fenrys said, arms propped on the railing next to you. “More discreet.”

You hummed in appreciation before your mood sobered. “Everything’s about to change, isn’t it?”

“No need to be so dramatic,” he tutted, nudging you with his shoulder. “But yes, it is.”

With three hours left, you all disappeared below decks to try and make yourself as … not stinky as possible. As you were making the final approach, Fenrys offered you a small flask. Alcohol - but the scent was barely detectable. Could easily be explained as time spent on a ship. You shot him an incredulous look.

“Liquid courage, they won’t scent it on you.” You stared at him for a few moments, where had he gotten that? “If you don’t want it,” he reached a hand towards it, but you snatched it back - tipping a small bit down your throat. Just enough to take the edge off. You wiped the droplets off with the back of your hand.

“Thank you,” you handed it back, and watched as he took a drink himself.

“For solidarity,” and something else he wasn’t telling you. You decided it’s not your place to push.

It certainly took the edge off as you pulled up to the docks - a carriage waiting to take you right to the castle. It was a comfortable fit with all of you. The two girls pressed their faces against each window, although with the sun already set - they couldn’t see too much.

You knew they got closer, because Fenrys’s shoulders rolled back, his body tilting forward to look out the window. “A few more minutes,” he said. It felt like an hour, but it likely was less than a twenty minute ride. As you approached, each clop of the horse's feet, each turn of the wheel, each small murmur from a driver, all seemed to thunder in your ears.

“Breathe,” Reya whispered next to you, and you forced air in and out of your lungs. You could do this, it would be fine. Ceri’s excited. For her, you reminded yourself. So she can have a father, so Rowan can be a father. For safety. Everything would work out, and you for her, it didn’t feel like a sacrifice. Since you felt her little life growing, you knew there wasn’t anything you wouldn’t do for her. This is no exception, a bit of discomfort you could survive. You’d adjusted before, and you would again now.

Reya grabbed your hand in her own, for her comfort as much as yours, and the two girls squealed as the gates groaned, the carriage passing through. “A better world for us,” she whispered - so low you barely heard it, but squeezed her hand in reply. A safer place for Fae, a place for Reya to find some peace, new things for your daughters to experience.

A hand thumped on the carriage, and Fenrys swung the door open. You breathed in through your nose, out through your mouth. You could do this.

#throne of glass fic #rowaelin x reader #poly!rowaelin x reader #rowan whitethorn x reader #aelin galathynius x reader #rowaelin x y/n #poly!rowaelin x y/n #aelin galathynius x y/n #rowan whitethorn x y/n #throne of glass x reader

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illarian-rambling · 17 days

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Hopping on this tag from @happypup-kitcat24 :)

OC Assumption Tag

Share one of your characters' name and a quote from them with zero context and let your followers (or other people who stumble upon your post) make assumptions about said character. You can post about more than one character but only one quote for each one for things to stay out of context.

1) Izjik Meautammera

“My name is Izjik Meautammera and I’m not at all wanted by the wealthy Devaris family of Unity. They won’t give you money for my safe and unconscious return. What I am is End’s avatar. It speaks to me, it controls my actions when it wishes. I have killed spirits and Chosen under its command. Immortality shatters beneath the stone of my washava. I have come here to ask for your help in our ultimate endeavor; destroying the gods and all life on this planet. You, your kid, your dog—it’ll all be dead and gone. So, who, uh, who’s with me?”

2) Sepo Kaiacynthus

“I expect you to fight to the bitter end if that’s what it takes, because you might love your husband, your son, but the people on that ship are the reason I’m here today and if your impatience costs them their lives, then believe me when I say I will turn that city down there into a fiery crater when I rip this damn island out of the sky!”

3) Twenari Undetasib/Devaris

“Something to do with gravitation runes and the density of air. It’s brilliant; they combine the magical with the mechanical and get a miracle. Gods, if I could just get a peek inside one of those fans….”

4) Djek Kagura

“Look, my point is, it’s hard to trust a bleeding heart. You figure that you’re too weak for this world, too sensitive, so you get in tight with someone who knows their shit. Someone smart enough to tangle with society and come out on top. You trust them to make decisions for you because they know better. They’re harder, more practical; they don’t balk when there’s bloody work to be done.... The first step in doing good is to let go of those people. You have to learn to listen to that bleeding heart of yours. It’s not soft, it’s not weak; it makes you who you are. A good woman. One who now has the opportunity to go out and make the world better.”

5) Astra DuClaire

“Nah, but I’ve been listenin’ in on your little chat with my friend here. I know I got you real worried ’bout how I figured out how to preserve a mind and you didn’t. And you’re right to worry, which is why I said it before, but all good messages bear repeatin’, so I’ll say it again. I am better than you.”

6) Mashal Darezsho

“I don’t care! I don’t care if you think I’m nothing more than a stepping stone on your path. I don’t care if you don’t think about me at all! But you will come out here and face me, gods damn it! And I’ll make sure I’m the last thing that ever crosses your fucking mind!”

7) Ivander Montane

“I didn’t come after the Surgeon out of the goodness of my heart. I… I didn’t come here to solve your murder or bring anyone to justice. The Surgeon can strip the magic from a sorcerer. I’ve seen the bodies with my own eyes—yours included. I came here hoping he could take the godly magic from me. ...I told you, I’m a selfish man.”

8) Elsind Cavernsight

“I forgive you, too. Just by knowing you, I can tell that your father was a good man. Not a good ruler maybe, but I can honestly say that I believe both of you did the best you could within the system you inherited. Very few nobles I’ve met were ever so, well, noble.”

8) Avymere Spearsong

“We are not retreating. The longer we take to act, the longer the people of Salis—of all of Skysheer—are held in Vermir’s grasp. Every second we waste means the death of another sorcerer whom it is my duty to protect. We push on.”

I like games like these, so ima call all the homies! Consider yourselves no pressure tagged ;)

@amandacanwrite @elsie-writes @riveriafalll @kosmic-kore @kaylinalexanderbooks

@bard-coded @carrotsinnovember @patternwelded-quill @somethingclevermahogony @whatwewrotepodcast

@the-angriest-author @mk-writes-stuff @frostedlemonwriter @vyuntspakhkite-l-darling @watermeezer

@leahnardo-da-veggie @mr-orion @televisionjester @ray-writes-n-shit @evilgabe29

@trippingpossum @tragedycoded @halfbakedspuds @ominous-feychild @cain-e-brookman

@wyked-ao3 @thecomfywriter

#writing #writerscommunity #writblr #my ocs #oc assumption tag

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trashytoastboi · 4 months

Text

Day of Eternity - Solomon

~SFW Alphabet~

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

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

🔮 He’s a mix between being teasing and intimate with his affection. At first you thought he was just trying to see your reaction every time he would pull you into a sudden hug, or steal a little kiss and smile at how adorable you’d be when you’re all flustered from it. Other times it’s more intentional, gentle and intimate. He’s soft and loving about it. He’d interlock his fingers with yours, hold you, or sometimes offer his arm like a gentleman when you walk side by side. Solomon can say some of the sweetest things and just likes being near you in general.

B = Best Friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

🔮 He’s the type of best friend that’s always there for you, the kind who is first on your mind if you know you need help and want someone reliable there for you. He goes above and beyond for you with no complaint. He’s made all the bad decisions before so you don’t have to and will impart all his knowledge and lessons on you to prevent any mistakes. Some activities you can expect to do together include misadventures, sightseeing, experimenting with magic and studying, sneaking off to the human world for a little food and maybe arcade games.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle)

🔮 Deemed himself a non-enjoyer of cuddles, you managed to change his mind. He didn’t desire that level of intimacy from casual partners and it became the norm. Solomon just assumed it had something to do with him and that’s why he didn’t like it. Until the two of you started dating, he found he is really appreciative of the closeness it brings and how peaceful it feels in your arms. Doesn’t mind being the little spoon, he just wants to be close and laying with you can ease a lot of his day to day stress.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

🔮 -3/10 for the love of gods, demons, and cthulhu do not let this man near the kitchen. Not unless you’ve got a death wish or want to be accused of aiding in domestic terrorism with those deadly weapons he calls meals. Honestly you don’t understand how he can’t cook… he’s had ample time to learn, and his potions always taste delicious. He can even flavour them to mask the questionable ingredients but he’s utterly hopeless with food. Cleaning is easy since Solomon just cheats it and uses magic to do it for him. As for settling down, Solomon desired that before immortality, but now his desire to settle down with you is accompanied by a fear of losing you to time.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

🔮 Sombre…Solomon is straight to the point about the break up, he articulates his point gently enough that it doesn't come across as callous or uncaring. He’s hurt, and regretting that things didn’t work out. It hurts deeply for him when he’s opened up enough to trust you so intimately when he believed he was beyond the point of being able to. Solomon thinks he’s good at hiding his feelings but they’re written all over his face and you can see how hurt he is.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quickly would they want to get married.)

🔮 Solomon is wholly committed to you as it is, and he does possess a desire to make it official. He’s got his concerns, namely being immortal. He’s closed himself off as a result because loss was inevitable, and he didn’t want that. To put himself through that kind of hurt. You have a different view on things though and rather look at the good than the bad, to embrace the wonder instead of the fear. So yes, in the end he does hold the wish to get married to you.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they? Both physically and emotionally.)

🔮 Solomon can be known as quite the devious character depending on who you ask, and even a thoughtless person with no concern for anyone else. You can’t believe that though because he’s always been kind and courteous to you even when you were strangers, and steadily evolved to friendship and then eventually partners. Solomon treats you preciously, always has. The only time he’s hurt you…is with his cooking 😔 it wasn’t intentional but you were convinced you were gonna die. Solomon was right by your side taking care of you though.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

🔮 Solomon’s hugs are always different and indicative of his mood. If he’s happy he’d give you one of those squeezing glomps, might pick you up and twirl you around if he wanted. When he’s sad he’ll kind of slump on you, keeping his arms wrapped around you without saying a word and nuzzling into your neck like a very sad koala. If he’s in a more flirtatious mood, he’ll wrap his arms around your waist and hold you close.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-Word)

🔮 Would say it jokingly, you’d do something nice for him and he’d respond with a “You know I love you right?” or saying something like “This is why I love you.” It was cute, still made your heartbeat a little faster but it felt like it lacked a certain depth to it. Solomon got used to concealing himself under false smiles and pretty words. You never rushed him, even when you would tell him you love him and he’d smile in response without replying, you knew it stemmed from his own hesitation and you didn’t force it…and when he was sure you had fallen asleep, he’d kiss your forehead and whisper his love for you.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they're jealous?)

🔮 Sulky type of jealous, he does get jealous but it’s not wrathful or nasty. He’ll pout, sulk and outright tell you that he’s jealous for whatever reason. He tells you because you usually give him a little bit of pampering afterwards. He thinks he should get jealous more often (or pretend to be). If it’s the case of someone hitting on you, trying to get your number or something. Solomon is so quick to just walk up to, kiss you on the cheek and ask what business that person has with his partner.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

🔮 In public Solomon gives you little smooches and pecks. Your forehead, your hand, your lips, cheek. All popular smooch places, Solomon even uses them whenever he greets you, and sometimes when he randomly wants to show his affection for his precious partner. In more private settings is where Solomon gets a little more daring, his kisses last longer and are a bit more passionate. They’re intense and slow, and he’ll smile into the kiss a lot when he feels you kissing him back.

L = Little Ones (How are they around children?)

🔮 He’s good at hiding his feelings, so you honestly don’t know if he likes them or not. He’s all smiles when he interacts with his kids, he’s patient and even if they’re trying to upset Solomon he’ll laugh it off and appear unaffected. The only thing you have noticed is that it’s a bit draining for him. It exhausts him quickly (you can only recognise the signs because you know him so well.) As for others he appears pretty much the same.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

🔮 He struggles to get up and has to set some pretty insistent alarms to get him up for the day. He’s a little bit of a grump and not a real ray of sunshine, if he sees your face his face will light up a bit. Wants to laze around in bed with you for just a little longer. Should you deny his plea for snuggles, he'll be grumpy the whole day. Once he’s fully awake then he’s quick to get ready and he’ll insist on making you breakfast- thank god Simeon and Luke usually take breakfast duty. You and Solomon will set the table and do the dishes together afterwards.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

🔮 Solomon likes quiet nights, he’ll spend time studying or researching. Maybe working on a new magic item or potion- there’s always more to learn, and revisit what he’s forgotten. If he’s not busy with that then he’s teaching you more about magic, he’s your master in the pursuit of the magic arts after all. Solomon is a good teacher, and you appreciate his constant patience. Some nights Solomon would just want to relax and he’ll convince you to laze around with him while talking about random things. You love hearing him recount historical events and learning about what details were covered up, changed or lost to history.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while and reveal things slowly?)

🔮 He’s an onion, he’s got layers. Things that he had no problem sharing. Common knowledge that everyone knows. Those layers act as diversions to conceal the things beneath them. You took the time to carefully unravel the layers, without intruding and without scaring Solomon. You waited for him to reciprocate and feel comfortable with you until he entrusted you with his innermost thoughts, fears and the things that he feels he’s forgotten about himself.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

🔮 He’s had many years to learn the art of anger management and patience. In most situations he doesn’t get angry, annoyed at most but even then he won’t act on it. He’ll get over it. His real anger comes when people try to hurt you. No matter who it is, he’s willing to erase them from existence and when it comes to you he just doesn’t get angry. In the height of the most heated argument he doesn’t get angered, he’ll get annoyed if he feels you’re being stubborn on a point that could result in you endangering yourself.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing or they kind of or forget everything?)

🔮 Solomon does a good job of remembering everything about you. The things you say- he’s a little paranoid that he’ll forget things and he journals a lot. Living a long time means he’s bound to forget eventually. The passage of time is unforgiving like that but he writes the important things about you, the little things, everything. So he can always remember.

R = Remember (What is their favourite moment in your relationship?)

🔮 Call him a little menace but it’s probably the moment the two of you announce your relationship to your close friends. Some people already knew and weren’t surprised but he wanted to laugh when seeing the shocked expressions of those who didn’t pick up on it. Most importantly Solomon just liked being able to be there with you, holding your hand while getting the blessings from your closest people (even though some were given a bit begrudgingly). Solomon hid his nervousness and you picked up on it, while no one else knew you were soothing him and he thought that was so endearing.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

🔮 Solomon is very protective and he’s not lowkey about it. He’d make you a ring- a protective talisman, here’s a necklace, and a charm to put on your D.D.D or your bag. Just have it on you at all times. With your permission of course, you’ve allowed Solomon to place magic circles on your body for just that added layer of protection; the Devildom can be unpredictable at the best of times. Sometimes you’d call him overprotective but he’s never restricted you from what you want to do.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

🔮 Always puts effort into everything for the two of you, but mostly you. Solomon always wants to surprise you with a nice home cooked meal, or a breakfast in bed (You love him but food poisoning is not the way), his gifts are unique, nearly always handmade and something meaningful that will have a deeper meaning to you. Solomon remembers anniversaries and he does do a lot of impromptu dates at home.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

🔮 Secretive. He’s secretive and won’t say anything if he’s struggling or going through something. He’ll go out of his way to make you think everything is fine, you know Solomon well enough to see it as a dead giveaway. It’s hard to get him to talk to you when he’s in this phase and he isolates himself emotionally and won’t feel present. You understand and give him his space but are there to support and comfort him.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

🔮 He’s not very vain, his appearance hasn’t changed much in years and he feels that he’s memorized it at this point. His vanity can rather be considered as curiosity because Solomon does often ask you how he would look if he was to dye his hair, maybe get piercings or tattoos. If he doesn’t like them he could just remove them. Maybe a wardrobe change? Sometimes goes through full style overhauls just to experiment.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

🔮 He’d feel empty and lost, a concept he thought he had gotten used to. He explains how after many years one begins to feel hollow, but you’ve stopped that feeling. You make him feel pleasure for everyday and the time spent with you is valuable beyond words. If you weren’t around he’d revert back to what he calls a meaningless and aimlessly drifting existence.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them)

🔮 Takes a lot of pictures and videos of you two (mostly you), he commemorates the memories. Scrapbooking has become quite a fun little hobby for him where he keeps all his important and favorite pictures of all the time spent with precious people, friendly acquaintances, some places he’s traveled. He writes a lot, detailing the date, place and his thoughts when he visited that place the first time.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn't like, either in general or in a partner?)

🔮 Total reluctance to try anything new - Life is short (for most) and Solomon can understand trepidation and restriction, but people with the means to do things and choose never to try anything new, see a new place, or try a new food. He doesn’t understand it, he’s eager to explore and learn, and experience new things. It might kill his enthusiasm a little if his partner restricted him and stopped him from doing so because they refuse to try anything new.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habit of theirs?)

🔮 Kicks the blankets off all the time and will wake himself up when he’s cold. He’s a restless sleeper and it can explain why he’s always kicking things off. You’ve gotten used to his tossing and turning. Solomon thinks he’s a peaceful sleeper, in spite of you telling him otherwise. He’s trying to work on it.

Taglist: @completelyshatteredbrokenmschf @roninfromtheops

#trashytoastboi #obey me #seven days of sin event #solomon #obey me solomon #om! solomon #solomon x reader #female reader #male reader #gender neutral reader #obey me!#obey me nightbringer #nightbringer #solomon obey me #sfw #fluff #fluff Alphabet #obey me imagines

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eljeebee · 9 days

Text

Another day, another training.

Lavender is starting to get used to it.

Sleep, wake up early to either Kashvi or Chief Song’s cooking (and on rare occasions, Raul’s cooking), listen to Lakandiwa’s archeology lectures, help with chores, pray and meditate, before heading out with the Seekers.

Now, and again, they stood in the bridge ruins, with the picturesque view of the Belomisia waterfalls, sparring.

Lavender had improved–she casts with a purpose, she swings her hand firmly, her magic attacks Iris with a blast.

And because Lavender improved, the Mage Seeker’s nitpicking lessened. “Very good,” Iris nodded, smirking, before walking off. Mata replaced her.

Mata’s martial arts was upgraded–they’re now doing close quarter combat. Quite unfair to her, Lavender told them. Mata is much heavier than her, and quite frankly, she’s still trying to find the perfect rhythm when it comes to throwing punches and kicks. Not only that, but he’s also a vampire, which means he would always win against her. I was able to subdue Mata when he had just turned. That was prior to receiving Her power, mind you, Iris had said to her, huffing.

And so here she is now, trying to channel her magic to boost her physical strength so that she can win against the Vampire Seeker.

Eventually, they found themselves on the ground, wrestling against each other. Mata had his legs wrapped around her torso, trying to pin her there, and probably twist himself away from her, while Lavender threw a punch that missed. They struggled, trying to throw each other off, and while doing that…Lavender caught the hint of fragrance on him.

It smelled like the flowers in the monastery’s courtyard garden, the scent from the handmade soap in the communal bath, and that same smell from the tea Kashvi always makes her. Not only that, but she also felt the taut thick muscles of his thigh through the dark fabric that Mata wore (which she called their “summer” outfit).

Would Percival have the same muscles as this?

Lavender let out a growl, kicking Mata off her. She immediately backed away, catching her breath. She can’t believe she’s thinking of that damned Asvang!

She looked up and noticed Iris had opened her eyes from her meditation. She heard my thoughts…

To add insult to injury, Mata playfully winked at her.

They definitely heard it…

“You’re doing well, child,” Mata said instead. “But you’ll have to try harder.”

Lavender nodded at him, shaking the thoughts out of her mind. With a grin, she said, “You’re on!”

“You’re back early,” Raul smiled at them as the trio caught up with him. “You must’ve been a fast learner.”

“She is,” Mata agreed.

“Good,” Raul nodded. “I think…that calls for a…reward! I know you miss city food, so I made Philly cheesesteaks!”

Lavender squeaked in delight. “Mr. Raul that sounds so good! I feel like I’m drooling!”

“You have questions,” Mata said.

Lavender blinked. She looked at Iris, who nodded at her. She said, “Ask them and we shall answer.”

And without further ado, Lavender asked, “How come you’re a vampire, Seeker Mata? I–I mean, no offense, it’s just that, the sages told me that both Seekers are spellcasters.”

Mata chuckled, “Speculations. Who else can wield magic similar to theirs?”

“Any person could’ve been a Seeker, Lavender,” Iris said. “And any of those hypothetical chosen ones could have been given the same Seeker Omnipotence. By threads of fate, we were chosen by the Watcher.”

“Of course…” Lavender thought of a joke, chuckling to herself, “So even an alien could be a Seeker?”

“It’s possible,” Iris answered matter-of-factly, “if the Watcher saw an alien and deemed them fitting.”

The spellcaster cleared her throat. “Right. Of course. Ahem. Is it true that you’re as old as the world?”

The Seekers looked at each other.

Mata slowly said, “We have a long history, child. But yes, we are old, as old as the ancient vampires.”

Bright-eyed, Lavender asked, “Are you immortal? I mean, of course you would be, Seeker Mata, but even the vampires that Straud had known died on their own way–from what he told me, by the way.”

Mata smiled at her, “Realistically, a vampire should last long until the world ends. They could only die on some circumstances, such as an attack using a powerful source, such as from our Omnipotence.”

“But why did those vampires die?”

“A tragedy,” Mata looked away.

“I’m sorry.”

“We are immortal,” Iris said, trying to change the topic, “we will live, if the Watcher wills it to. She has a hold over our souls–our lives. When Her judgement dictates that our lives as Seekers in this earthly realm is finished, then our time here will end. We will join her.”

Lavender hummed. “So, you’re immortal because the Watcher made you so.”

Mata nodded.

“Wow...”

They went quiet for a bit. The rustling of leaves from the blown wind can be heard, the birdsongs enveloped them.

“Is it true, the Watcher is a woman? A Goddess?”

Iris snapped at her. “What spurred this on, child? What are the Sages teaching you? The Watcher, the true Watcher, is a goddess. Omisca is her name, She who gave life to all, She who shared her magic to us, remember that.”

Shit. Lavender hung her head low. “I–I didn’t mean to anger you, Seeker Iris. I know that She is the true Watcher. She is a goddess. I’m sorry. I apologize.”

Mata sighed. Addressing his fellow Seeker, he said, “Iris, you frightened the child.”

Iris exhaled. “I apologize, child. Her name has been sullied countless times, and I am here to remind those who dirtied Her who gave them life.” Her sharpened voice softened. “I know you mean well, Lavender.”

Lavender could only nod.

Mata asked, “I’m curious. Does the Sages worship the Smithsonian god?”

“No,” Lavender shook her head, “They would never. We know our roots, and who is the true god. Ordinary people worship the Smithsonian god, though. It’s the norm for most people.”

“It would be,” Iris looked away. “That’s what he designed it for. To have people question Her and forget…”

“Iris…” Mata mumbled.

“At least your belief in us never wavers. You have been good to us.”

Lavender laid awake in the bedroom. She couldn’t sleep. Her questions to the Seekers bore more questions, and it’s bugging her! What does Seeker Iris mean that the Smithsonian religion was designed? Trying not to let out a frustrated groan, she stood up from her bed, mindful of not waking the others. It was only Chief Song, Lakandiwa, Raul, and Diego who slept.

Kashvi is downstairs, doing her nightly routines, and the Seekers…

She slipped away from the bedroom.

“Sleep eludes you, child?” Mata smiled at her.

“I’m sorry,” Lavender sheepishly said, “Your answers gave me more questions…”

“I know,” Iris chuckled at her (a chuckle from Iris? What a rare sight, Lavender thought). She motioned for her to come. “I wish we could tell more, but we do not want you to become a target.”

“Target…by who?”

“Not now,” Mata shook his head. “You must not know, lest they learn about you.”

The three of them sat on the stone roof of the monastery path walk.

The Seekers conversed at each other, and Lavender didn’t bother to join them.

She pondered, who is this they? Why would she become a target for these people? And who made the Smithsonian religion? Why was it designed to forget Omisca? And what is this tragedy the ancient vampires had suffered from? So many questions…

She sighed, laying down on the stone roof. The Seekers paid her no mind as they discussed something else. Lavender doesn’t even know what they’re talking about anymore.

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salty-an-disco · 7 months

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some more magical girls au stuff

and also some lore stuff:

– ‘The Echo’ is an immortal entity originated from the first ever echo to be created in that construct that trapped two gods. And now, eons later, this echo is obsessed with keeping a balance between the reincarnating pieces of these gods, and is always seeking out Quiet’s pieces reincarnations so that they always have the power to slay the pieces of the Princess that keep coming back. In this AU, this manifested as him basically making the voices magical girls

– the Echo is attached to a mirror; its shards used to make several hand mirrors he can be on at once and is how he communicates with the voices. Has mild shapeshifting abilities as an inky shadow that usually takes the form of a crow

– the Princesses create dimension bubbles around them ala Madoka Magica that change their surroundings to match their respective themes; they can only be dispersed by either killing the princess or helping them find closure in their stories (Echo conveniently doesn’t tell anyone about the latter option). They’ll always come back when they’re killed tho (often worse), and the cycle can keep going.

– Hero is in community college, studying law (it’s not his passion at all, but his family really wants him to be a lawyer and he can’t disappoint them!!), and often does gigs as a delivery boy for several businesses or other odd jobs. One of the newest magical girls alongside Contrarian – name in this AU is Hiro Capricórnio, and his transformed name is Starling; he has a stars and knight theme, and is able to summon a long, silver, feather that he uses as both a sword and a shield

– my Contra design kinda looks like a vocaloid so I decided he’s an actual superstar in his normal life who goes by the name ‘Contra Jester’ — their shows are always a fun spectacle that mixes in jokes and comedic gags in their musical performance (kinda like an inverse Bo Burnham, but with more lighthearted themes) – his AU name is Carter Thomfoolery (actual birth name) and their transformed name is Lyrical; has a music and clown theme and can summon a lyre that he uses to do all sorts of effects on the people affected

– Oppy is Carter’s agent and a senior magical girl. Doesn’t technically has any credentials to be managing a super star and was caught money laundering before, but hey! as long as he doesn’t try to meddle in their shows, Carter won’t sue them :) — was very concerned when they found out Carter was made a magical girl considering how unpredictable and uncontrollable they already are – AU name is Oscar Wilde and transformed name is Jack of Trades; has a showman/magician theme and can use the cards up his sleeves and his echoing voice to convince others to do what he wants

– Paranoid is a workaholic trying to get into medic school while juggling two part-time jobs and her responsibilities as a magical girl. Is very distrustful of the Echo in her mirror that gives her orders, but is EVEN MORE distrustful of the princesses; one of which is a recurring Nightmare she has only barely managed to defeat a few times. Tries to help/keep an eye on Lyrical and Starling, since she knows how it is to just start this off without much (helpful) guidance – AU name is Pamela Noid, and her transformed name is Little Shrike; has a plague doctor/engineer theme, the suitcase she carries can be opened to all sorts of contraptions that creates toxins and acid-filled bombs or guns, can also produce healing medicine (the pinnacle of “I’m a healer, but–”)

#this AU been spinning in my head at lightning speed y’all #wanna draw more about it BUT BODY TIRED AND FEELIN’ SICK!!#voice of the hero #the narrator #voice of the opportunist #voice of the contrarian #voice of the paranoid #slay the princess #stp voices #Echomirror AU #< how Imma be calling my version of a magical girl au #magical girl au #sal draws #sal rambles #(under the cut)#sketches

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avelera · 2 years

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Would love to see fic recs for this but I’m intrigued by the idea of a dreamling fic where Dream creates a persona to get closer to Hob, really just out of curiosity and to observe him without disrupting their agreement but then, of course, he gets in too deep. My plotbunnies for this are twofold (though, also free to a good home!)

1) 1389 era, Dream decides to follow up on his new “project” and learns to his surprise and increasing curiosity (that he’d never admit to) that Hob is actually something of a unique bandit. He uses charm instead of force whenever possible and seems to dislike violence even while he’s good at it. He’s still a brigand and a thief and a ne’erdowell but he makes a sincere effort to try to convince their marks to part peacefully with their money and if say their more attractive daughters or sons spend a few days with Hob’s band as ransom, they return unharmed (and some with stories of a roll in the hay with a certain charming bandit).

It’s these stories that draw Dream initially, especially as they begin to filter into the Dreaming in the form of fantasies by those who hear the tales and certain poets imagining their own version. When he discovers it’s Hob who is the source of one of these tales, of course Dream has to investigate further. And of course that means being taken hostage. It did NOT mean falling in love with Hob in the course of being taken hostage, while Hob puzzles over where the heck he’s supposed to ransom this lordling to since apparently he doesn’t exist. Oh also Hob is immortal now and still trying to figure all that out and this latest hostage, while not quite the same looking as the man at the White Horse, does give him the strangest sense of deja vu…

2) Similar premise, modern times, Dream picks an appearance that’s close enough to himself to set off all of Hob’s Dream-related kinks but not so close as to be mistaken for him, but they’re non exclusive, Hob’s not looking for anything serious, his stranger just came back into his life after all but there’s no chance there anyway so no reason not to date on the side. Cue “You’ve got mail” esque mistaken identity love story where shapeshifter Dream actually does have the modicum of acting skill and social awareness to pull off being a different, human person (this is AU after all and there’s always magic to mend any missteps) of Dream getting increasingly jealous of… himself?? Both Hob’s feelings for the disguised version of him and the disguised version getting frustrated that Hob keeps holding back because part of him will always hold out hope for the real Dream, not this other handsome goth guy he’s dating as a fix.

#dreamling #the sandman #fic prompt free to a good home #fic prompt

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swiggity-swexual-i-am-asexual · 2 months

Note

I'm not opposed to hear your rambling of DP in dungeon meshi

Ayyy someone asked!

Oh, you’ve activated my trap card.

So, naturally, I cannot find the post because Tumblr ate it off my blog, BUT what they’re referring to is a post about how the Fenton parents could have TOTALLY ended up overshooting when trying to get to the Ghost Zone and ended up in different worlds instead… and thus decided ‘hey free children!’ And surprise adopted (read: kidnapped) both Jazz and Danny from two different realms.

I actually had a LOT of ideas on how you could do this. But, I ultimately decided that a post-canon approach was best for this little exercise. Not that you COULDN’T add Jazz and Danny, I suppose, but the timeline and the character movements are, for lack of better terms of it, EXTREMELY tight. You can wiggle an OC in there, sure, but for a fully developed character from ANOTHER media, especially one as OP as Danny, it’s far more difficult.

That’s my way of saying, this absolutely has Dungeon Meshi spoilers if you’ve never read the manga and don’t know how it ends. That’s my only warning.

So here’s the ideas and eventual story (there’s elements that are general and some that are specific to whatever storyline I ended up with) that I have doubts I will ever write but someone might as well enjoy them. I technically wrote a few scenes in my notes app, but these aren’t those, this is—kind of the whole roadmap? It’s a little funky still though, haha.

Here goes!

As with the post, Jazz is Barbara Gordon’s twin, and Danny was actually a half foot. And now he’s a halfa halffoot. Lmao. Lol even.

Before I chose to do a post-canon approach, I considered having the Fentons as a party. Jazz and Danny are basically playing babysitter to their FAR too enthusiastic parents who keep almost or actually dying because they’re exploring the whole immortal dungeon thing. While that is scrapped, some of the ideas I did have came from this, er, phase of development? So I felt it was worth a shoutout.

Marcille describes magic (well, mana) as coming from ‘The Infinite’, which is also where demons come from. And these demons can do things like grant wishes, ‘feed’ off of emotion, and change people. They also, once sealed into dungeons, do various things inside these dungeons, including making animals that cannot exist without magic for very long but also seem to still require a sort of internal logic. This sounds a LOT like how ghosts work in Danny Phantom, if you take maybe a hint of liberty and a dose of speculation about how lairs likely work.

Basically, The Infinite = the Ghost Zone, also known as the Infinite Realms. Demons = Ghosts. Dungeons = Lairs. And, most importantly… Ectoplasm = Magic.

For my own sanity and also for a successful meshing of these two very different universes, I’ve decided to go with the semi-fanon idea that the influences of the people in the living world can create things in the Infinite Realms. Belief creates reality, basically. For example, perhaps Pandora was never alive in the first place, but because people heard and believed her story so much, she became a ghost (realms being, demon, what have you). So, while those in Amity Park might not have initially believed much in ghosts, they saw them, and because people saw Phantom as powerful and either villain or hero-like, Danny and the rest of the ghosts became more like comic book characters than spooky ghosts (somewhat explains how things are still a LITTLE spooky, but seem a bit more heavy on the probably dead people thing at the beginning of the series).

Similarly, demons became what they are over time as the people of the world influenced them. You could call what demons started as, as ‘proto ghosts’, and that every world that HAS ghosts has them, and the beliefs change them into whatever form and binds them to whatever rules the dimension now holds.

There should still be some universal ‘laws’, though. For example, ghosts exist in both stories, and so do magic, as do spaces that operate at least SLIGHTLY outside the usual laws that govern the area outside of it (again, lairs and the Ghost Zone, dungeons in general).

All this to say—when Danny ends up in the Dungeon Meshi world, he ends up being a very unorthodox and extremely powerful mage, but might lose a good percentage of his usual ghost powers. He is not salty about this, no, really, ITS FINE JAZZ.

This would be less of a problem if there wasn’t a SLIGHT issue about halffoots being known as not being magically inclined… and those that might have had an interest in the past sorta-kinda got taken by the elves.

Another note is that this isn’t going to be a particularly Fenton parents friendly sort of story, because the whole thing STARTS with them KIDNAPPING CHILDREN and passing them off as their own. I’m sure there are ways to spin it as a happy tale, but uhhhhhhhhhhh. I’m not.

An additional point that you do NOT have to take from this if you make your own story is, if you’re a big fan of halffoots having tails (which, to fit with the humans-all-have-the-same-bones thing, are made of cartilage), you can have Danny have been docked as a baby by the Fentons. Adjust angst regarding that to your own tastes, but I imagine its probably something that HAD been done in the past for not-great-reasons, and so the social stigma for the parents doing that to their child is messed up—but due to the dangers of dungeoneering, some halffoots may have lost their tails in accidents or just because they were THAT serious. Point is, it’s at minimum a gossip point.

Anyways, as halffoots are very short, and Danny is one, by age fourteen his teachers are probably going to go ‘uuuuhhhh, I think there’s a problem here?’ But the Fenton parents are oddly reluctant to arrange a doctor’s visit to check for various possible causes of potential dwarfism. Like, they’re already dodgy about doctor visits, but this seems particularly avoidant.

Both Jazz and Danny might know that they’re adopted, but even if they don’t, they know where all their papers are. So they snoop through them to see if there’s any leads or anything.

There’s various ways to for them to figure it out—realizing there’s no paper trail about their adoptions or about how delayed the at-home-birth paperwork was—but one that I did contemplate was that the Fentons KEPT the tail they cut off Danny as a baby, claiming it was a ‘lower spine surgery and don’t worry about it champ!’.

As you might imagine, he’s worried about it. But also, you can nix that plot point if you’re not a fan. (Well, I mean it technically my own story developing here, but—part of this exercise is to see what other people would take away from what I’ve got too.)

More searching through papers and likely a conversation if not confrontation with the parents later, Jazz and Danny learn about the different realms and such.

Jazz is still worried about Danny’s health. They SEEMED human, but what if they weren’t and they were just lucky to not have gotten super sick? Or what if they’ll live thousands of years or something??

Danny is, understandably, a little upset about everything too. So they both pack what they might need, basing their travel kits on what notes they DID have about the world they were heading to (minimal technology, so laptops were a bad idea, but Jazz did pack a bunch of instructional books on How To Make Things), and got the dimensional coordinates to where they needed to go. Or, if you don’t wanna explain HOW those dimensional coordinates are still accurate or how that system might work now that the Ghost Zone was there, because who knew how to navigate that place on a GOOD day, Danny could just ask Frostbite or Clockwork for a quick favor. On that note, Danny should probably have a way home—personally, I gave him the starting ability to make portals, although they’re not YET powerful to get through, which is why he’s concerned that he might actually be unwell on his human side.

POINT IS. Jazz and Danny arrive, taking the name Nightingale just in case their parents went around calling themselves as Fenton and pissing people off by, oh say, kidnapping their child.

A quick survey around tells them a bit about the world, with Danny probably very used to being very adaptable on the fly. And also we’ll let him keep invisibility. As a treat. Though it may now be a bit more difficult to do. Jazz is tasked to either help Danny to let him hide behind her presence when needing to actually be invisible, read through the travel journal from the Fentons to find clues to Danny’s birth family, and her own self imposed mission to reinvent running water and water filtration systems. She is not about this no-indoor-plumbing life.

As it so happens, with the Golden Kingdom beginning to pop up, there’s plenty of spaces and houses in various states of repair that they’re currently REALLY trying to fill up. Jazz files some paperwork about being refugees, and they take a house that’s pretty far into the woods for most of the people looking for a place. The two need the space, as they are keeping literal dimensional secrets. Other than the lengthy walk to town, it’s fine. Plus, it lets Jazz do her plumbing project.

Once they both have a pretty good grasp on things, Danny C-student Nightingale realizes OH. WHAT IF I’M A HALFFOOT— wait no I’m not going by that. Call me a hobbit instead. In Jazz’s defense, she spent most of her time grasping everything else about the world, or otherwise spent most of her time they spent either camping in the woods or making their new house LIVEABLE that the whole ‘different races’ thing completely sped by her. Plus, where they live might be more Tallman heavy.

Good to know he’s healthy though! But they’re already here, and they do actually want to find Danny’s family, and… it’s just… been very nice and not stressful. The ghosts hadn’t been bothering Danny nearly as much back home, to the point where he felt pretty comfortable leaving it in Valerie’s capable hands, but this is the most relaxed he’s been in a while. It’s amazing what not living with people who would skin you semi-alive will do for mental health.

They also realize they maybe need to like… make money.

Good news is, when they switched dimensions, they automatically became able to speak Common. And, as a compensation for losing some of his other abilities, Danny can have omnilingualism. He also keeps his ice powers, mostly, and he’s pretty sure he kept his Ghostly Wail.

There ARE reasons why he keeps the powers he does. In short, he’s still part ghost (or, part demon here, but words are just words and in this case, both just mean ‘realms being’), so turning invisible is fine. So is making things cold—and, as he’s also human and able to use magic, he can create ice like other mages do. He also has limited intangibility, but for reasons involving ‘I don’t recall any mages doing it’, he has more trouble with it than usual. As for the Ghostly Wail, its similar to the mandrake cry, and thus something that likely involves magic to do—as a veritable wellspring of magic, as he’s kinda sorta a dungeon master ruled by HIMSELF now, he has plenty to spare. Plus, banshee legends might still exist in Dungeon Meshi. As for the languages thing… it’s me throwing him a bone for taking away his ability to use lasers. I might let him overshadow people, but seeing as that just kills people in Dungeon Meshi, I might not.

The two siblings begin taking odd jobs in town. The people think it’s a LITTLE odd that a Tallman (Jazz) and a Halffoot (HOBBIT, Danny) are siblings, but they usually just explain that they were both taken in by the same couple. If anyone even slightly insinuates it’s something else, the two both start gagging before they begin lecturing the gossiper.

While Danny’s skills as an interpreter ARE extremely valuable, they find that with so many new people in this town that, apparently, JUST rose out of the gotdang sea, that there are many people looking for all sorts of odd things, and THAT is something Jazz is more suited for than translating, seeing as the only language that she knows from THIS world is Common.

In short, she finds out about potions. You know, that thing mentioned like ONCE at the beginning of the Dungeon Meshi series and NEVER MENTIONED AGAIN (afaik).

Ingredients are a liiiittle hard to come by in markets, but most of them just need magic to grow, right? And Danny can make magic ice that turns into magic water.

Jazz starts a farm. When Danny starts taking home books and such to translate on a commission basis, mostly in order to avoid another close call about knowing ancient elvish languages that they may or may not be incredibly suspicious about him being able to know, he takes care of a lot of the gardening.

It’s at this point that Danny finds out he can just take a mandrake that’s in a pot, dunk it in a barrel of water, and harvest that way. It’s still a bit LOUD, but it won’t harm or kill anyone. And, the water now has magic toxins or whatever, which could have uses of their own that Jazz is now experimenting with.

So, basically, Jazz is out here doing the Dungeon Meshi Cooking Montages except its potions and it’s mildly terrifying.

Danny is just glad that he’s ALSO legally a halffoot adult and can just go to town to a tavern whenever she’s being too weird. Good news: he can drink alcohol now! Bad news, sort of: it does nothing for him. I mean, go him for never getting drunk, but like, rude.

Both Danny and Jazz are learning magic, mostly because Danny needs to offset some magic every now and again so it doesn’t build up (ie, his ice) and should at least look like he knows what he’s doing so he doesn’t get caught, and Jazz is learning so they can occasionally depend on her to claim that Danny’s magical whatever is actually HER doing. Plus, it helps with the potions. Most involve magical ingredients, so the maker doesn’t need to be a mage, but still.

Danny gets a bit homesick about Sam and Tucker, so he makes a magic mirror in an afternoon and contacts them through one of Sam’s compact cases. It had some unique design she made on the back of it, so he’s able to hone in on it. Sam is EXTREMELY jealous that they’re living some kind of cottage witch fantasy, meanwhile Tucker is like ‘they have wHAT kind of meat? And you left me here?!’.

Yeah. Tucker and Laois would get along, although Senshi would definitely have some words to say about his nutritional needs.

SPEAKING OF the Dungeon Meshi characters. What, you think I wasn’t going to add them?

Falin likes to take walks through the area. As it so happens, the Nightingale House is about two hours of very casual strolling from the castle. She discovers them one day when she noticed Danny tending to the mandrake farm (there’s likely other magical plants, but I imagine Danny is wary of the more monster-like ones).

Danny just can NOT keep her name in his head. He keeps calling her Bird Lady. Falin is not upset by this. She’s actually pretty glad to make somewhat friends with Danny and later Jazz, because they’re both pretty nonchalant about the feathers thing. Most are fine, but some are still… Off about her. Also they didn’t participate in the whole eating her thing, which she didn’t MIND but some people avoid her because they think she WOULD be upset.

Falin is also glad to find that Danny can see ghosts like she can. She promised to keep his little magic secret, though she likely has no idea how powerful he actually IS, and she visits like twice a week.

At some point, Itsuzumi claimed their front porch as one of her napping spots. Jazz thought they should maybe not have a cat girl sleeping on the doorstep. Danny agreed… by making a hammock. Jazz just accepted her fate and occasionally feeds her. That said, Itsuzumi doesn’t stay in one place as her ‘home’, so it’s a toss up if she’s there. Still, she somehow convinced the postmasters to only deliver mail to the Nightingales, seeing as they don’t mess with her letters and are out of the way enough that she has privacy when she does read them. If she’s there while it’s raining, she’ll take over the couch.

Like, Itsuzumi doesn’t have keys to the house or anything, and Danny and Jazz are both a bit secretive, but that translates really well to respecting Itsuzumi’s privacy as long as she isn’t bringing huge problems to their doorstep. Danny did once offer to see about making up a guest room that was more or less hers—the house did need repairs, so some of the rooms weren’t quite habitable even if the house itself was fine to live in. Itsuzumi was not a fan of this, as I imagine her the type to not like feeling so tied down, but she did accept a compromise of having a closet space for her to store things. It’s where Danny and Jazz will put her letters when she DOES get them.

Danny’s need to help people isn’t an obsession, but he IS quite fond of it, so as he does his work but also studies magic Just In Case, he finds a certain affinity for sensing magic, monsters, and breaking curses. The first one he broke was entirely by accident—the client had no idea that the book passages he gave to Danny were cursed.

It worked out, it was fiiiine, stop worrying so much Jazz.

While Danny certainly wasn’t advertising the curse breaking part, his previous client was told about it, and suddenly everyone knew that the Nightingales knew a little about curse breaking. They assume it’s Jazz, and Jazz has to learn on the fly how to break simple curses and protect herself until Danny can come actually work his literal magic. Jazz, oddly enough, is the one to figure out how to make protective charms.

Also, she’s successfully made the first section of her water filtration system.

Listen, they are very busy. But they’re hoping if they branch out enough, get a big enough system, they can find Danny’s parents. Because all they REALLY had to go on was One—They were halffoots, Two—Danny’s hair came from his mother, and Three—in both Jazz AND Danny’s cases, the Fentons kidnapped a twin.

It’s this work as a cursebreaker and Jazz’s work as a near miracle worker at potions—her little mad scientist experiments were bearing fruit after all—that Falin brings Laios over to work with. Long story short, Danny’s general attitude about it is ‘fuck that lion guy’ because he recognizes the work of a ghost—er, demon—when he sees it. Sure, the Toudens don’t TELL Danny it was a winged lion, saying after a really long pause that the cursers name was Leo or whatever. But Danny isn’t completely stupid, especially not about something he can PLAINLY see.

Also, a good note here is that neither Jazz nor Danny have ANY idea who Laios is. Sure, they’d HEARD of the King, but either Danny gave him a nickname, they think Laios is one of those cases where there’s an uptick of people named after a famous person, or it’s just a super common name. Or, heck, it’s entirely possible that Laios has a king monicker and that’s ALL that Jazz and Danny have heard, and they don’t know that the king’s name is Laios.

Anyways, Danny is like ‘you have two curses from your frankly very petty curser’. And they’re like ‘yeah we know’.

For the monster repellent curse, Falin points out (possibly on her own but also possibly remembering something Kabru said once) that it’s a pretty useful curse, but that it upsets Laios to have on him. So, Danny thinks ‘What Would Sam Do’ and makes a creepy doll. The idea is to attach the curse to the doll, but for various reasons involving having the curse NEED an amount of magic to stay going, it needs to be, well… fed. As you MIGHT recall from Dungeon Meshi, blood is pretty potent as a magic tool.

So, anyways, blood sacrifice for the repellent doll curse, preferably either by Laios or someone of his blood. I’m sure this won’t become a plot point for a b rated adventure story several generations later where they need to find the One True Heir to help save the kingdom or whatever.

As for the hunger curse, it’s a pretty tricky one. Most curses, Danny can kind of just. Push it out using his own magic, or trick it into thinking its done whatever the curse maker wanted it to do. But this curse is very ingrained, as hunger is something very basic to literally everyone, and it’s goal is basically ‘then SUFFER’ and that’s hard to make it understand when Laios is, technically, already and constantly suffering from it.

So, it needs to be magically purged. Starve out the magic in Laios’s body, starve out the curse. Issue being that it’s EXCEPTIONALLY hard to do that when magic is LITERALLY in the air.

With a bit of thinking, Danny comes up with a solution, and tells them to set up their creepy doll shrine and see him in three days. Also maybe haggles the price because while he DOES have a way to do this, it’s a bit risky to not only Laios but to the makers of Danny’s curse-breaking method.

Danny contacts Sam, who contacts Frostbite, who is VERY against this but ultimately agrees so long as Danny is careful. Danny technically has Jazz do most of the next part, so he’s being cautious.

The Toudens come back, with Laios happily chattering about a small monster he noticed just before they got to the Nightingales—good to know what the range of that is then, though it may have become smaller with the smaller vessel and the lesser amount of regenerating magic supplying it. I’m not looking up the one panel that sorta shows how big the field is right now.

Danny is like, bundled up and covering his mouth, while Jazz is very careful with the prepared potions.

Blood blossoms. Basically anti magic, which do not grow in this world naturally and should never do so, and involved Sam needing to travel back in time to grab a few. They explain their caution as Danny being extremely allergic to one of the ingredients and the effects of the potions being dangerous to mages in general by DESIGN.

In short, Laios has to take these potions for three days—one bottle for each day—and to light a candle anointed with the potion in the forth bottle in a closed space he needs to stay in for the duration and at least an extra two days. There’s also a fifth bottle that he needs to sprinkle into any food or drink he has for that time until after the fifth day. Remember, magic is everywhere in Dungeon Meshi. This is basically him going into a sterile bubble field for a while, but also needing to include sterilizing the things he eats and drinks as well.

“Don’t keep even a drop,” Danny warns them both very, very seriously. “This stuff shouldn’t exist here, but that is one NASTY curse you’ve got. Anything you’ve got leftover, including the bottles, bring back here.”

He also tells them that its possible that Laios might never regain magical ability he had previous, or if he DID he had to relearn it. Laios accepts this risk. He wasn’t much for magic anyways. Danny also tells him to maybe make sure the room(s) he uses isn’t his usual bedroom, and again that he needs to stay in them as MUCH AS POSSIBLE, preferably not leaving at ALL, until after his treatment.

They take his warnings seriously, at least, and they head off, carefully with the contents they just got.

They actually do as instructed! Kabru did manage to take a drop, though, just to see what would happen. Holm’s undine DISSOLVED is what happened. Kabru did not take any more risks about that because WHAT the hell, WHAT. Laios and Falin also won’t tell him WHERE THEY GOT THIS FROM. At least, not until after they finish the treatment and see if it works.

It does work though! He gets his normal hunger cues back after a couple of weeks, and Falin happily tells the Nightingales that it worked. Great! Never tell anyone what they did. Also give back the bottles please and thanks (handed off to Sam very carefully—although blood blossoms ARE a magic-and-ecto disruptor, they can be put through portals, such as the mirror phone things that technically also act as portals).

A little late for total secrecy, but no one that the Toudens didn’t already trust with the numerous secrets they already had, including but not limited to Marcille’s fun necromancy habit.

… Listen, I know that the curses Laios gets are like, consequences or something, but I didn’t like the hunger curse because of my own traumas and didn’t like the monster avoidance curse cause that just seemed cruel. Which I get was the point but I have OPINIONS on the whole thing, and it ultimately equals up to “Laios didn’t ask for this, and I’m not sure he’s actually happy in the end”. Anyways.

Because they literally helped heal the king, Laios does invite them over to dinner in the castle.

“That guy was a KING?!” Danny shouts.

Jazz is just like. Yeah that fucking tracks. But hey we can ask his help about the parentage thing!

So, now they’re going to dinner. That’s fun! Maybe!

Side note, Jazz has now invented showers and indoor baths. She’s still working on a heating and cooling mechanism but at least all the water is clean. She’s still working on getting faucets for sinks, such as in the kitchen.

Don’t ask how they have time for this, by the way. The gardening, their actual jobs of potion making and translations, Jazz’s plumbing project, Danny’s (and slightly Jazz’s) magic training, and the biological family search. To be fair, they probably have very few leads on that last one, so extending their social net is kind of their only plan.

They get dressed up fairly nicely and go to the king’s castle for dinner because apparently Danny just cannot stop impressing royalty both dead AND ALIVE as it turns out.

There, they meet the whole Touden party. Itsuzumi is there. Both parties are very surprised, but good to know, but also what. W h a t.

Senshi likes hearing about how similar potion making and cooking is, and he and Jazz seem to be getting along pretty well! Chilchuck, meanwhile, is like. Why does this kid—sorry, young halffoot adult—look so gotdang familiar. Regardless, he offers to help teach him a few things about halffoot culture, seeing as Danny was apparently raised as a Tallman.

“Yeah, we didn’t even know about other races! We just thought Danny was a little weird,” Jazz said.

“That must have been really isolated,” Marcille replied.

Oh, she didn’t even know the half of it.

Of course, someone questions how Danny was so good with languages if their ‘isolated little village’ never said that any race other than Tallmen existed, to which Danny just kind of says he had a knack for it and was bored, so. Languages. They kind of just start following patterns after a certain point. And he and Jazz HAD been traveling for a while.

Dinner goes well, with just one odd report about scratching in one of the mirror halls by the guards that Danny juuuust manages to hear before he and Jazz go out the doors.

That’s probably nothing!

A bit more time passes, with Senshi visiting Jazz and helping her learn ACTUAL cooking in exchange for those sweet sweet mandrakes and the water harvesting method while Danny gets lessons from Chilchuck and, ironically, another halffoot named Dandan about Halffoot culture. Luckily, Danny just so happened to know the halffoot language equivalent of Common, but they teach him a bit more about the language anyways.

This is also when he learns that Halffoots tend to have twins, but also that it’s not terribly uncommon for one of the twins to die. Happened to both Dandan’s ex wife and to Chilchuck and also so, so many other halffoots. That just made Danny’s search even harder. Yikes.

By week two, Danny is very tired of CONSTANTLY hearing the term halffoot, and so has requested Tucker get him a copy of the Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings trilogy to send through mirror-mail so that Danny can then translate THAT into Common and go publish. Maybe if he has a book or two to sell, he can make a passive income so he can concentrate on things other than translating YET ANOTHER tax form because the local government all wants Common—understandable—but not everyone can READ Common.

This may be a time to give Danny a misadventure with some orcs that paint him as a fucking weirdo but ultimately friendly.

Jazz gets the idea that hey, if the whole halffoots have lots of twins thing is true, meaning that she and Danny are going to have a TIME of it trying to find HIS parents, maybe she and Danny should invent, like genetic testing with magic and or potions or whatever. It’s not like they don’t have an understanding of genetics, if what Kabru’s (adopted) mother teaches him is any indicator, but genetic testing it relatively modern by our own standards.

So they start developing that. Falin still visits, mentioning how there seems to be a scratching that just won’t stop in the castle, but its always in the same hall of mirrors so at least its localized. Just, really weird. Everyone else thinks its ghosts, but Falin has checked so many times now and there just isn’t one. But Laios is doing fine, he’s very thankful, and Danny is like hahaha don’t mention it! No really, don’t! You already paid me! We had dinner! We’re friends now! Ahaha!

Should it be the case that Halffoots (-HOBBITS!) have tails, Chilchuck still has his, though it’s a liiiittle shorter than it should be, and he’s the sort thats proud about how long his wife and daughters’ tails are. He’s reconnecting with his family! Slowly but surely! In case you CAN’T tell, I actually like happy endings here. Despite the everything else I put in a story, ha. Anyways, as such, he’s a little offput by Danny’s parents since Danny admitted that they’re the ones who cut it off of him, and that even then they never told Danny that he wasn’t a Tallman despite having to have had at LEAST a clue that he wasn’t one. Shouldn’t the orphanage or however they got their kids from know? Don’t tell him that both Jazz AND Danny were just left on their doorsteps.

“Definitely not that one, aha…” Danny quickly changes the topic. “So I wrote this story—or, well, its like this story that was SUPER popular where we’re from—“

Chilchuck also explains how Danny’s name is just SO weird to most of the other halffoots. Like, it’s not OUT there, per se, but definitely reads as Tallman. Even admitting its fully Daniel does not help. This is also when Chilchuck explains that part of the infant mortality rate, halffoots don’t get their names until their fourth month of life.

Jazz made some liberties and changes to the Hobbit to fit in a little better with Dungeon Meshi and it’s whole world, but otherwise it’s mostly the same story. Chilchuck and Dandan get free copies as they’re helping Danny so much, especially with getting Danny used to other people like him (mostly). They’re both pretty impressed with it, though Danny insists that it wasn’t exactly his own writing. But, hey, the actual author was dead and he doubts any copies are going to come from his old hometown any time soon so like, might as well!

Also, copyright law is probably far different in Dungeon Meshi than here, ha. I declare it—legally in the clear!

Danny has a mission with this and that’s getting people to use the word Hobbit dammit!

Surprisingly, despite not showing up in it, the gnomish community quite like it. And so do dwarves, and elves, and halffoots, and it becomes pretty popular.

It’s The Hobbit. This is not an unexpected result. Thank you Chilchuck for helping with the printing rights and contracts for getting the book published. (And we can guess that the printing press DOES exist in Dungeon Meshi, since we can see the books they have—though there may be other obstacles about getting your hands on a book, we can see by the amount they have and how gimmicky Laios’ monster book is that printing a book itself is likely a done and solved issue in some way or another).

Danny is extremely glad he did not put his own name as the pen name for that mess.

While all that drama is happening, including the fact that Chilchuck’s wife—I have named her Brightmerry—is now a very avid fan and would love to meet Danny, Danny and Jazz have just about perfected their genetics test. Laios and Falin know about the test, although not WHY they’re doing it. Despite some concerns that the magic and chimeraism that probably STILL affects both, though Laios’s maybe got purged during the magic curse breaking thing, it certainly was unpleasant enough for him that he’d BELIEVE that he got part of him ripped out, they still seem to test just fine as siblings. Still, they need more tests.

But it’s not like they know an entire family, do they?

Danny complains about this issue to Dandan, in part to see if Dandan knew anyone that MIGHT be willing to help.

As it so happens, Dandan volunteers Chilchuck. Chilchuck only agrees to drag his family into it because he generally trusts Danny and Jazz even if they ARE kind of weird and make incidental inventions at their house that they should REALLY sell, because WHAT do you MEAN you have a hot water shower?! He also knows that both Brightmerry and Fullertom would like to meet Danny because of the book he totally did not steal from another dimension to make a profit. Might as well drag the rest. Plus, they assure that the test itself won’t hurt, and will even demonstrate with themselves and with the Toudens what a false and what a positive result will look like.

So, they arrange a date to do so at the castle. Kabru is pretty interested in the experiment, truthfully, because it seems neat! Not at all because of his own issues with his hometown involving his eye color! Why do you ask!

Off they go, and the best space to do this in due to some preparation and magic circle nonsense is the same room Laios did his whole magic purge, which was the mirror hall. It’s small but open, with no windows except for a small one in an attached restroom area. Sure, there’s some creepy scratching going on from time to time, but no one has gotten hurt or recorded anything else odd.

The magic genetics test involves having the participants positioned equally around a magic circle in little circles of their own, having a small cup of a potion that gives off a lot of steam or vapor—entirely harmless-, and pricking a drop of blood into the potion. What happens with a positive is that the vapor takes on a color and follows a trail through the magic circle, and the colors and how strong the connection between the vapor trails between two people tell how related they are. In a negative or, when two parents are in the circle, the vapor trails will not have ‘matching’ or similar colors, and the trails will not actually meet up with each other.

It’s still a work in progress, but it should tell at least siblings. Luckily, Chilchuck did manage to get all three of his daughters and his wife along, with Dandan being invited as another variable to test with.

Danny and Jazz go first, showing how their trails don’t meet up. And there’s not a particular meaning to what color a vapor trail is to a person—it can change and vary for each test, it’s only consistent when it’s a ‘positive’.

Than Laios and Falin. Fittingly enough, their trails are fairly strong, with just a few different trails fraying off, and slightly different shades of green-ish yellow coming from their potion cups.

The Chilchuck Family then take a turn, and they can observe the trails. Sure enough, Chilchuck and Brightmerry don’t have any connection, but seem to match and meet with each of their daughters’ trails, who also connect to each other in a web of vapor. They decide that maybe more than three is hard to read.

They agree to do a couple of combinations and tests, which Jazz and Danny are like ‘sorry for all the finger pricks!’ But they DID bring a bunch of sterilized needles at least. And Falin is happy to heal them in the meantime—using the space as an anti magic purge room seems to not have left an affect on the magic now in the space.

Dandan joins a few times so they can record how he doesn’t match at all. Laios then mentions why Danny isn’t doing that when they explain he’s adopted and therefore for all he knows, he’s distantly related.

Which prompts them to have him test with Dandan and Chilchuck.

He doesn’t match Dandan.

But he does match Chilchuck.

This does not change when he repeats the experiment.

They then switch out Chilchuck for Brightmerry.

… And he matches to Brightmerry.

SEVERAL different trials later involving all the halffoots there confirms it.

Somehow. Someway.

He is Chilchuck and Brightmerry’s child.

Are you surprised? Probably not that was a twist coming a mile away not going to lie.

Anyways, the story THEY give is that he’s Puckpatti’s twin. They’d been napping outside while with one of Chilchuck’s brothers, when something or another distracted said brother for, at most, two minutes. But then Puckpatti’s twin was gone. He was stolen, although they hadn’t actually KNOWN what had happened, when he was three months. It’s why Puckpatti’s name was, well. Puckpatti. Puck was supposed to be her twin’s name, and they considering having her be Pattipuck, but Puckpatti worked better. It wasn’t particularly odd for twins where only one survived to carry the other twin’s name as either their first or second name. This is also why her usually nickname is Patti instead of Puck.

Danny and Jazz explain that… yeah, they were taken in. As in kidnapped. Hadn’t wanted the pity points but saying they were adopted felt kiiiiinda wrong.

Now, this would be a very touching family reunion scene.

Except now that mirror scratching has started up.

And its loud.

And—Oh would you look at that.

Mirror portal.

Can you guess who pop through?

It’s the Fentons! Say Hello to Jack and Maddie.

It’s a whole confrontation scene, which BASICALLY goes with Maddie and Jack absolutely NOT realizing anything they did wrong, insisting they SAVED Danny, that there were two and it was fine, and BESIDES, JAZZ wanted a little sibling and when ASKED she asked for a brother, so really, its her fault.

Jazz gets a guilt complex! Chilchuck tells the Fentons that thats NOT HOW THIS SITUATION WORKED, SHE WAS TWO!

Jazz also has a horrifying memory of when she was four and Danny was two, and asking if they’d like a younger sibling, and that they’d have to agree, but Jazz said yes and Danny said NO and was this why there were only two of them?!?

Danny disowns them, pointedly saying that cutting off a baby’s tail is kind of MESSED UP DON’T YOU THINK. And they go, well if you’re going to be ungrateful—and he gets like, hella hurt.

More arguing and fighting, and Danny just kind of lays there and lets himself heal before propping himself back up like. Did. Did you think that would work. You have a magic science workshop that I regularly cleaned did you NOT THINk. THAT WOULD NOT HAVE AN AFFECT.

The Fentons go ‘oh, he’s a ghost’ and disown him right back, though not in so many words. Whichever members of the Dungeon Meshi group you imagine are there right now take it as ‘he’s a MAGE?!’

Danny tricks the Fentons back through the mirror portal and shatter it. From what he guesses, the magic purging done to Laios let there be a slight thinning in the natural magical-ecto-whatever barrier that protected this world from another one. The Fentons didn’t know where the kids went, but might have figured out they went to another world, but couldn’t locate the notes to locate the Dungeon Meshi world. So, instead, they tracked Danny and Jazz themselves. With all the blood testing Danny did in the same room with a thinning veil, that meant they were finally able to break through by using him as an ‘anchor’ to follow through the mirrors.

Universal constants, remember? Both magic mirrors AND portals are things in both worlds.

Danny takes this time to go ‘well, they already know anyways’, and uses the opportunity and also all his blood now on the floor to make some quick magic barrier things with Jazz’s help. She’s better at protection sigils, after all, but he’s the more magically powerful. Together, they sort of ‘lock’ the dungeon meshi world. Or, more accurately, they lock out a certain scientific couple. And, because three is a stronger number for magic, they also block out Vlad. Three birds, one stone.

THEN Danny passes out, you know, like a champion.

Once awake and reunited with everyone, things begin to simmer down. Sure, Danny was just exposed as a powerful mage to the King, but the king is just like ‘Eh, won’t mention it, I don’t know anything I’m barely sure how I became king most days and I was THERE’. Marcille probably finds out, either because she was there or she’s just really good at finding out things she absolutely should not, also possible interest from a long time over Jazz and Danny and their whole deal. But she’s also just like NEAT. Translate these texts for me and we’re even.

Danny is not convinced about her smile but goes with it regardless.

Chilchuck and family are cautiously open to Danny. Of course they’re glad to have him home, but also—he’s lived his entire life ELSEWHERE, so while Chilchuck knows the most about him, he’s still a stranger.

A few cute fluffy bits about learning about his siblings and his mother and father. Notably—Chilchuck is APPALLED that any child of his doesn’t know how to properly lock pick. Even Fullertom, the MOST disinterested in his line of work, is well aware of how to do it. Brightmerry is fond of reading, and Danny has lots of stories she’s never heard of going through his head. He insists they’re just local stories he’s heard of here and there, but she’s like. Suspicious of it. Not enough to cause him to stop telling her them, though. He also learns of the interests of his sisters, and is also like WHAT. WHAT DO YOU MEAN I’M STILL THE BABY.

The three girls are also fond of Jazz, surprisingly enough. Like, I’d hardly call them besties, but they get along pretty well. Especially when teasing Danny. Jazz tells them of the occasions she’d dress Danny up as a princess when they were little, and next thing Chilchuck knows, he’s walking in to see his son—not resisting being dolled up, because he loves his sisters already, but also very clearly hoping for an out.

“Have fun,” he says and leaves immediately before his daughters can drag him into it too.

Jazz has completed her indoor plumbing project! They no longer have a latrine and cesspit! They have proper toilets AND a filtration system for both incoming AND outgoing water, and along the way she’s made a waterwheel for electricity to power the filtration system AND the heating and cooling systems. They’re ALMOST modern at the Nightingale house!

From here, things are a bit more loose.

Danny makes gifts for his family for some kind of festive holiday. For Chilchuck, he gets a wood carving for the night each of his children were born, as well as his own birthday and Brightmerry’s. Since Meijack and Fullertom are twins, as are Puckpatti and Danny, this means four carvings. Each carving is technically a thin piece of darkly painted wood with holes drilled through, but when a light is shined onto the correct side, such as a candle or Jazz’s next project involving lightbulbs, it projects out the night sky.

Danny consulted a LOT of astrological charts for this thing, but due to how close their dimensions are, the stars were mostly the same between the two. It’s not a universal constant, but the closer two dimensions are, the more similarities there are.

After all, the Fentons were trying to slip BETWEEN dimensions, which is kind of like sewing but only going through to BETWEEN two pieces of fabric, even if the fabrics are already rubbing against each other. In other words, precision was needed, and there was no point in aiming for a FAR dimension for this, that was more likely to end in failure.

An alternate for Chilchuck is that Danny finds alcohol in the Infinite Realms to give him, if you want Danny to have more free access to the Realms. Just warns him to only drink it if he WANTS to be completely sloshed, and to maybe not do that at home, haha.

Anyways, for Brightmerry, he gives her not the next one, but the entire Lord of the Rings trilogy, translated and edited for the Dungeon Meshi world. He assures his father they’ll get a copy for print later, but this was the first edition and it was for Brightmerry.

Meijack got an armband for easily hold and quick access to her most common picklock tools. Kind of like a bracer or that sliding blade thing from Assassins Creed.

Fullertom, Danny gave her a bunch of blue ribbons and accessories. Jazz had to point out for him that this meant he was supportive of her desire for marriage—Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue. Usually a tradition reserved for the marriage, but anyways.

As for Puckpatti, he makes her a magic compass. No matter where she is, she can always ask her to point it where she wants to go. North, South, the next town, home, to a specific person, so on. The first thing she has it point to is to Danny. It’s a much more touching moment than I am capable of writing right this second.

Uhhhh a plot point I hadn’t integrated yet was that Danny absolutely cannot cook with meat. It was started in the ‘they met during canon dungeon adventure times’ but I hadn’t translated it fully yet. Basically, when Danny tries to cook with meat, it comes alive—like the turkey or the hot dogs in canon, and SOMEWHAT like the familiars do. Of course, it’d be really weird to be able to do that without even trying, and possibly mildly illegal, so they just have Danny not cook meat. Then a draft came to be where Danny was like ‘fine I’ll just SHOW YOU’ to Senshi, and if it was in the dungeon, then he’d use them against a monster, and if it was during post canon, it’d be against his parents. Then the point of WHY all or most of them were together during the Fenton’s break in changed from the dinner party to the genetics test, and there was no reason for Danny to have been cooking.

Danny finds and introduces Fullertom to a dwarf that she starts dating. Chilchuck isn’t sure if he should be concerned or impressed with the portfolio Danny pulls out when Chilchuck asks about the dwarf and what Danny knows about him.

Another plot point for why Jazz and Danny were staying so long, outside of finding Danny’s birth family since we have now figured out he WAS developing normally and the whole portal thing was just sorta because of how tricky that power is, is that Princess Dora wanted Danny to find a good host for the Necklace of Aragon so that her brother could no longer claim it. It would, predictably, eventually go to Laios. Also, I am starting to realize I am more partial to Laios than the other characters, whoops. Anyways, I hadn’t figured out if I could or even SHOULD integrate that into the plot.

Payment for the blood blossoms were going to include five of Fallin’s feathers. They’re magically powerful, and three of them were going to be used for each name that was ‘blocked’ from the Dungeon Meshi world. So one feather for Jack, one for Maddie, and one for Vlad. I haven’t decided if I’d keep that or not, but I also wasn’t sure what to do with the other two feathers, and just asking for three and that HAPPENS to work out, the number being considered magic aside, felt a bit off and too convenient.

Danny would eventually take on a new name in honor of his birth family. Danbright Chils. Dan is him, obviously, and since he’d be taking Chils for Chilchuck, he decided to take Bright for Brightmerry. (I actually debated between Bright or Bridge. So either Brightmerry and Danbright or Bridgemerry and Danbridge. This is directly because of Danny’s ‘be the bridge’ thing.)

Things are just starting to settle…

Then, Sidney of all people shows up in Danny’s magic communication mirror. And we get information that due to Jazz and Danny’s mild meddling with the magic-ecto-whatever barriers, that Jazz’s twin has become aware of the fact she once had a twin—basically, Inspector Gordon kind of ‘felt reminded of [Jazz]’ and told Barbara about it. And since Barbara is part of the superheroes club, she was able to find out that not only was her twin alive, but in an entirely different dimension entirely.

Annnnd that’s all I got.

It’s a lot! Don’t expect me to publish it! Have a nice day!

#delicious in dungeon #dungeon meshi #danny phantom #dp #spoilers #danny phantom crossover #dungeon meshi crossover #this is like. 8k of words #uhhhh I’m not? against? someone using this for their ish?#just no ai and if you’re taking more than An Idea from it I’d like credit you know?#we’ll see if anyone reads this ahaha #despite its length I probably forgot things #I’d have added the scenes like what I HAD intended to #but this is a fucking long post and most wouldn’t be quote canon unquote to the story above #like I originally had Brightmerry’s name be Bridgemerry but she INSISTED ON BRIGHT. SO.#there’s so much smoothing out that would need to happen haha #maybe if this gets enough notes or interest or what have you I’ll add them in a reblog lol #thanks for the interest I do not think this is what you had in mind 😅#do you like how inconsistent I am about whether I’m authoring a story or giving ya #y’all a copilot/writer role? I hope you did!#thanks for asking!#have a lovely day ^^

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