#and there's so many rules. for lesson planning

[beneathsilverstars]

i hope everyone is enjoying the occasional "day in the life of someone whose real ass job is singing and dancing with toddlers" segment here at beneath silver stars dot tumblr dot com

[ninisdollie]

forbidden fruit - yang jungwon 𓈒ིུ ❤︎ ˖ ݁

✧˚⋆ ˖ ࣪ . Demigods series

Synopsis: At the halfblood camp, there exists an unwritten but unbreakable rule: no romance between demigods. You, daughter of Athena, are known for your intelligence and wisdom, always following the rules to the letter. However, your life takes an unexpected turn when you fall in love with Yang Jungwon, son of Poseidon. Though your feelings are deeper than ever, you know this relationship is dangerous. Not only because of the rule that separates you, but because any discovery could put your lives at risk. As you struggle to keep your love a secret, you must use all your cunning to hide what is growing between you two, but how long can you conceal what you truly feel before everything falls apart?

Content: +18MDNIfem! reader x jungwon, pjo au, poseidon's son! jungwon x athena's daughter! reader, kind of emotional, based a little on percabeth, soft vanilla sex, praising, a little bit of dirty talk, oral (f.rec), unprotected sex, creampie.

taglist at the end, likes and reblogs are appreciated !!

You were everything a daughter of Athena was expected to be.

Sharp-minded. Disciplined. Untouchable.

From the moment you stepped into Camp Half-Blood, eyes  followed you, not out of admiration, but respect laced  with fear. You were the kind of girl who could outsmart a son of Hermes in chess, shoot a bullseye blindfolded, and recite the Iliad in Ancient Greek just because someone said you couldn’t. People came to you with problems they couldn’t solve. Cabin Six called you their pride. Children asked for advices, girls from other cabins wanted you as their friend and as their ally in Capture the Flag.

You were born into legacy.

Not just the legacy of Olympus, but the sharp, gleaming, heavy weight of Athena’s name. Wisdom, logic, order. Your very existence was curated by divine intention. You weren’t an accident, or the result of fleeting desire like so many other demigods. No —Athena had chosen to bring you into the  world,  and that meant something.

You loved strategy, planning, puzzles. You loved the satisfaction of a well -constructed battle plan,  the thrill of  solving a prophecy no one else could make sense of. When there was a quest to be assigned, Chiron often consulted you first. Not because of favoritism, but because your insight had saved lives more times than anyone could count.

You were your mother’s pride.

Athena didn’t say it often, not in words.  But when she appeared to you in dreams or left offerings by your bedside,  you knew. You felt it in the way she would look at you , composed, proud, maybe even a little possessive. You weren’t just her daughter. You were her creation, the living embodiment of everything she valued.

So you never gave her a reason to doubt you. You never broke the rules. You never chased chaos, or love, or anything that could make your legacy fragile.

Not until Jungwon.

He wasn’t part of the plan.

You had read about Poseidon’s children, powerful,  unpredictable, ruled by instinct more than reason. And when Jungwon stumbled into camp, dripping wet, dazed, and wide-eyed after slaying a Minotaur with nothing but a broken blade and his bare hands, something in your gut twisted.

He didn’t look like a hero. He was clumsy, unfocused, always a little out of place among the well-trained campers.  But he had a quiet strength to him. He smiled like he didn’t care what anyone thought, and he moved through the world like it was his to claim, even when he  tripped over his  own feet.

You should’ve ignored him. You tried to ignore him.

Jungwon couldn’t strategize to save his life. He fell asleep in Chiron’s history lessons. He called Ares kids “mean jocks”  to their faces. He once asked if drachmas could buy snacks at the mortal mall.

You were the camp’s brightest mind. He was the camp’s biggest walking contradiction.

You were ice. He was waves.

And when he smiled at you, really smiled,  like he wasn’t  supposed to, your world tilted.

You didn’t like him.

You couldn’t like him.

But feelings have a way of creeping in, soft and slow, like tidewater kissing the shore. And before you knew it, his clumsiness wasn’t annoying. It was endearing. His dumb questions made you laugh. And his smile?

It stopped being dangerous.

It started being home.

͏ ͏ུུ̑̑ 🌊����

Yang Jungwon wasn’t what anyone expected.

When he first stepped into Camp Half-Blood, the whispers followed him like a storm cloud. Son of Poseidon. The boy who killed the Minotaur. The one who could charm any creature, monster or god, with just a flash of that smile. He was supposed to be a legend in the making. But no one had warned you how annoying he’d be.

He wasn’t tall like the sons of Ares. Nor broad-shouldered like those of Hephaestus. But when he walked into the Big House with his hair wet from rain and eyes wide with curiosity, the air around him shifted.

There was something wild, untamed about him. Like the ocean, unpredictable and a little dangerous. He didn’t give the vibe of a camp hero, he didn’t try to. He strolled into camp with the same nonchalance as a guy picking up coffee on a lazy Sunday morning, and within minutes, he was the center of attention.

It wasn’t his looks, although those storm-colored eyes and those dimples on his cheeks were enough to make the unspoken rule about no romance feel like a joke. It was the way he didn’t care about anything. He had no reverence for the gods. No fear of the monsters. Not even an ounce of caution when he crashed headfirst into a pine tree during his first battle training session.

His lack of self-awareness made you want to strangle him and kiss him all at once.

“Do you always fight like that?” You’d asked, irritated beyond belief after watching him swing a sword around with all the grace of a toddler trying to hold a knife.

His sheepish grin had been all charm.

“Not really. But I do like to make things… interesting.”

And in that moment, with your brows furrowed in a mix of disbelief and growing interest, you knew it wasn’t just the Minotaur he had killed. He was dangerous in a way you hadn’t seen coming.

Not because of his powers or his lineage.

But because you couldn’t figure him out. And gods, that was the most infuriating thing of all.

͏ ͏ུུ̑̑ 🌊𓇼

You started getting closer after an almost-failed mission. It was supposed to be simple, in and out.

You were given the task of retrieving an ancient artifact hidden deep in the woods, a task normally reserved for the more level-headed demigods. Naturally, you had the strategy already mapped out. Every move, every potential threat, every path through the dense forest was accounted for in your mind.

And then he showed up.

“Hey! I’m here to help,” Jungwon called out as he came bounding up to you, his sword gleaming in the sunlight, only to trip over his own feet and nearly crash into a tree.

You sighed before even speaking.

“This isn’t a joke, Jungwon. Stay focused.”

His grin was unrepentant.

“I am focused!” He pulled himself up, dusting off his clothes. “Just… you know, having fun out here. Who said strategy can’t be a little bit of adventure?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, annoyance bubbling up.

“This is a mission, not a game.” You motioned ahead, where the shadows deepened in the trees. “We’re not just collecting souvenirs. We’re in danger.”

“Danger’s my middle name,” he said with a wink, slinging his sword over his shoulder with a nonchalance that made you grit your teeth.

You knew he wasn’t serious, but the way he treated everything like a joke, like nothing mattered, drove you insane. Everything had to matter. Especially here.

As you both ventured deeper into the woods, the atmosphere grew heavier. It wasn’t long before you heard the low growl, something large, lurking in the underbrush. You shot Jungwon a quick glance.

“Stay back. I’ll handle this.”

Before you could take a step forward, Jungwon was already charging at the beast. The wild, uncoordinated way he swung his sword almost sent you into a panic. The monster, a Chimera, its scales glittering black under the dim light, charged, its massive horns aiming right at him.

“Jungwon, no!” You shouted, trying to reach him in time.

But it was too late. Jungwon lunged forward, his sword missing the Chimera’s flank by inches as it swung its tail toward him, knocking him off balance. He fell, hard, straight into a pile of fallen branches, his sword clattering to the ground.

You froze for a second, but instinct took over. The Chimera roared and turned its fury on you, its fangs flashing.

You weren’t sure how you did it, maybe it was your strategic mind, the hours you spent reading Athena’s scrolls, or the training you’d put in, but in one fluid motion, you darted forward, dodging the beast’s attack and slashing at its underbelly. The Chimera screeched and staggered back, leaving it open for another strike.

You didn’t look back at Jungwon, but you knew his eyes were on you. The moment passed in a flash, the beast falling with a thud as you stood over it, breathing hard.

Silence followed.

“Not bad,” Jungwon called from behind you, a bit winded but amused. “I mean, I did most of the work, but—”

You whirled around, cutting him off with a glare.

“You almost got yourself killed, Jungwon! What the hell were you thinking charging in like that?”

He took a step forward, a teasing smile playing at his lips.

“I was thinking I could’ve handled it.” He dusted off his shirt, completely unbothered by the mess he was in.

“You can’t just charge in and hope for the best!” You were practically seething now. “This isn’t some game where you can rely on luck. You could’ve gotten us both killed!”

He stopped, his grin faltering slightly as he met your gaze. For a moment, you thought you might’ve seen something more in his eyes, something other than his usual teasing. But it was gone too fast for you to read.

“You’re right,” he said, tone shifting a little. “I messed up. But it was… kind of fun watching you work.”

Your breath hitched at the unexpected compliment. It was disarming. But you weren’t about to let him off that easily.

“Don’t make a habit of it,” you snapped, crossing your arms over your chest. “I’m not saving your ass again.”

His eyes softened just slightly.

“I wouldn’t want you to.”

And just like that, the air around you both seemed to change. It wasn’t the usual playful tension. This was something new, something you hadn’t expected. Something that made your heart skip a beat, and your mind race with thoughts you had no business entertaining.

“Let’s just finish the mission,” you muttered, turning on your heel to walk ahead.

Behind you, Jungwon chuckled, the sound rich and warm. “Sure. Lead the way, smartypants.”

͏ ͏ུུ̑̑ 🌊𓇼

It didn’t happen all at once. Love never does, not the kind that consumes you slowly, like a tide pulling you under before you even realize you’re drowning.

At first, it was just casual interaction. Reluctant partnership. Jungwon had been assigned to your combat team for a short mission, and you’d bristled at the idea. You still thought of him as the clumsy new kid with waterlogged shoes and a crooked grin who stumbled into Camp Half-Blood dragging the corpse of a Minotaur behind him. Powerful, sure, but chaotic. Undisciplined.

You were precise. He was impulsive.

You spoke in plans and formations; he spoke in jokes and instinct.

And yet… it worked.

He followed your lead, even when he didn’t understand it, because he trusted you. Not blindly, but with an openness that unnerved you at first. He never made you feel like you had to prove yourself. And despite how annoying he could be, how distractingly pretty his eyes looked in the sunlight, he listened when it mattered.

Over time, the mission ended, but the partnership didn’t.

Jungwon became a fixture in your life in ways you didn’t expect. You’d find him waiting for you after training, hair tousled, cheeks flushed, grinning like a fool. He’d bring you snacks you liked without you ever telling him. He never let you study in peace, always interrupting with some stupid joke or question, yet somehow, it became your favorite part of the day.

You started meeting him by the lake. At first, just to talk. He’d skim stones across the surface, and you’d tease him about his form, even though you secretly liked watching his arms move when he threw them. The conversations became deeper. The silences more comfortable. You shared things with him you never told anyone, about the pressure of being Athena’s daughter, the loneliness of being seen as perfect, the fear of disappointing someone who wasn’t even really there.

He never judged you.

Instead, he told you about the ocean, not just his powers, but how it made him feel. How it calmed him. How it made him homesick for something he never had. He told you how scared he was of being the son of Poseidon, not because of the power, but because he didn’t know if he could live up to the name.

You touched his hand one night, just for a second, and he didn’t let go.

The first time you kissed him, it was after a sparring match. You had him pinned to the ground, knees on either side of his hips, sweat running down both of your necks, breaths tangled. He looked up at you, his chest rising and falling fast.

And then he said, “You’re not going to let me up, are you?”

You didn’t know why you kissed him. You just did.

And he kissed you back like he’d been waiting for it since the day he met you.

From that point on, things changed.

You were still careful. You had to be. Camp had rules, strict, unspoken rules. No romantic entanglements between demigods. The gods watched. The camp leaders enforced. Love between two children of Olympus wasn’t just frowned upon. It was dangerous. It could tip the balance of power. Destabilize alliances. Invite disaster.

You both understood what was at stake.

So you didn’t walk too close in the daytime. You didn’t meet at the campfire. You never touched hands in public, and you definitely didn’t look at each other too long. You became experts in secrecy. A glance across the archery range. A coded phrase in training. A scribbled note hidden in a book.

But when the sun dipped below the horizon, when the camp fell silent and the stars came out, that was when you belonged to each other. He would sneak into your cabin through the window. You’d lie together, tangled under thin blankets, whispering about dreams and fears, about what it would be like if things were different. If the rule didn’t exist. If love wasn’t forbidden.

Sometimes he kissed you like you were fragile. Other times, like he couldn’t believe you were real. Either way, he always held you like you were the only thing keeping him grounded.

You didn’t realize how much you’d fallen for him until the thought of losing him made your chest ache in a way you’d never known. Not even the fear of disappointing Athena compared to the fear of being forced to let him go.

He felt the same.

You saw it in the way he looked at you when he thought you weren’t paying attention. Like the whole world narrowed to your presence. Like you were the only thing in the universe he’d fight for.

Now, a year later, the love between you was no longer something soft or budding. It was all-consuming. It was fire under your skin and salt in your lungs. It was dangerous.

And no one could know.

Not if you wanted to stay together. Not if you wanted to survive.

But every day, it got harder to pretend. Harder to keep your hands off him. Harder to lie to your friends. Harder to look your cabinmates in the eye and say you were still Athena’s perfect, logical daughter.

Because you weren’t just that anymore.

You were his.

And if the truth ever came out, you didn’t know what you’d do.

͏ ͏ུུ̑̑ 🌊𓇼

The camp was quiet, blanketed in the kind of silence that only came after curfew, when the cabins were dark, the training fields were still, and the stars felt just a little too close. You stood at the lake’s edge, barefoot in the cool grass, arms wrapped tightly around yourself. The moonlight shimmered across the surface like broken glass, glittering reflections catching in your tired eyes.

It was always the lake.

You didn’t come here just to think, you came to feel. The way the air hung heavy with mist. The way the water moved like it was alive. The way it reminded you of him, even when he wasn’t there.

But tonight, you weren’t just feeling.

You were unraveling.

You weren’t supposed to be like this. Not you, daughter of Athena. The one who had always followed the rules, who had always been told she was her mother’s pride, sharp, unshakable, destined for greatness.

You remembered what it felt like the first time you saw your mother in a dream. How her voice, cold and elegant, filled you with something like reverence and fear all at once. You remembered her saying, “You are my legacy. Don’t let me down.”

You’d lived by those words for years.

And now, every kiss you shared in secret with Jungwon, every whispered “I love you” spoken between cabin walls and stolen glances, chipped away at that legacy like cracks in marble.

“You okay?”

His voice, low and familiar, broke through the quiet like sunlight through storm clouds.

You didn’t turn around. You didn’t have to.

“I had a feeling you’d come,” you said softly, barely louder than the wind.

“I always do,” Jungwon replied, and a moment later, you felt his warmth behind you, his presence grounding. “I saw your bed empty and figured you were here again. Couldn’t sleep?”

You shook your head, still watching the water ripple under moonlight.

He didn’t press you. He never did. Instead, he stepped closer, standing beside you now, close enough that his arm brushed yours. He glanced at you, eyes soft, thoughtful, and then tilted his head slightly.

“You’ve got that look,” he murmured, half a smile on his lips. “The one where you’re about to tell me the world’s ending and it’s probably your fault.”

You let out a broken laugh, the sound small and tired.

“Maybe it is.”

Jungwon’s smile faded. He turned to face you fully.

“Hey. Don’t do that.”

You finally looked at him.

He was in his hoodie and sweats, damp hair curling over his forehead, eyes reflecting the lake like mirrors. There was something in his expression, something aching and wide open .and it undid you completely.

“I keep thinking about her,” you whispered. “About what she’d say if she knew. About what I’ve become.”

Jungwon blinked slowly.

“You mean… someone who feels too much and thinks too hard and loves too deeply?”

You swallowed, throat tight.

“I mean someone who disobeyed everything she was raised to believe. Someone who’s risking everything for something that might not even last.”

His brow furrowed, and then he stepped forward, cupping your face with both hands.

“Don’t say that,” he said, voice quiet but intense. “Don’t you dare say we won’t last.”

You closed your eyes.

“I want to believe that,” you said, your voice cracking. “But there are gods, Jungwon. Real ones. My mother watches everything. And if she finds out, if Chiron finds out — if anyone finds out — I don’t know what they’ll do.”

He didn’t flinch. Didn’t look away.

“I don’t care what they do,” he said. “They can throw me in Tartarus for all I care. I’d still choose you.”

Your heart stuttered in your chest.

“I don’t regret loving you,” you said, tears finally slipping free. “I just wish it didn’t feel like a crime.”

He pulled you into his arms like he was anchoring you to the earth.

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” he whispered into your hair. “You’re not a crime. You’re my choice.”

You clung to him, arms tightening around his waist as he rocked you gently, the lake lapping at the shore like it, too, felt the weight of your love.

For a long moment, the world faded. There was no camp. No prophecy. No gods.

Just two broken kids trying to build something out of the pieces they were given.

You pulled back slightly, your noses brushing, eyes wet and locked. He kissed your cheeks first, soft, reverent, like he was trying to erase your tears with his lips. Then your mouth. The kiss was slow, tender, almost shy. But it deepened quickly, desperation curling in every movement, a quiet ache that said, I need you. I need this. I need to feel like we’re still okay.

His hands tangled in your hair as your fingers slipped under the hem of his sweatshirt, touching the bare skin of his back. You kissed him like it might be the last time, even if you prayed it wasn’t.

When you finally broke apart, he rested his forehead against yours.

“I don’t know what the gods have planned,” he whispered. “But I’ll fight them. All of them. I’ll fight Olympus itself if I have to.”

You let out a soft, shaking breath.

“I don’t want a war,” you murmured.

“I don’t either,” he said, brushing his thumb across your cheek. “I just want you.”

And in that moment, with the stars watching, the lake shimmering, and his arms wrapped around you, you wanted to believe that was enough.

Maybe it had to be.

͏ ͏ུུ̑̑ 🌊𓇼

It began with waves.

Not soft or rhythmic, but slow, creeping things. Sludgy, dark. Pulling back and forth like something was breathing beneath them. You were standing on a desolate beach you didn’t recognize.

The sky was grey, sickly. The sand under your feet was coarse, colorless, almost like ash. Wind ripped through the air in sharp howls, but there was no sun, no moon. Just the shriek of gulls that never landed and the heavy, endless crash of water. You were barefoot, your clothes torn at the edges like you’d come from battle.

You turned, searching for something, anything familiar.

And then you saw him.

Jungwon.

He was standing at the edge of the water, barefoot like you, a few paces ahead. But something was wrong, his shoulders were hunched. His back was turned. And his hands were shackled in thick celestial bronze chains that trailed into the ocean, disappearing into the depths.

“Jungwon?”

Your voice barely carried in the wind. It was swallowed like it didn’t matter. You tried to run to him, but the sand was too deep. Too heavy. Like it didn’t want you to reach him.

Still, you pushed forward, breath stuttering in your chest.

“Jungwon, please—”

You were almost there, so close you could touch his shoulder, when the sky cracked open with a terrible, familiar voice.

“So this is what you’ve become.”

Your blood froze.

She stood at the top of the dunes, her armor glinting silver, her owl perched on her shoulder. Your mother, Athena. Radiant and cold. Her eyes glowing with power and disappointment. She descended the sand like a queen to her execution.

“All that I gave you. All the wisdom, the discipline. All the years I spent shaping your mind, your spirit. And you throw it away for this?”

She gestured to him, to Jungwon, still shackled, still silent, as if he were nothing but a stain on your honor.

“The son of the Sea. You let emotion cloud your wisdom.”

You shook your head, breath ragged.

“He’s not weak—he’s good, he’s kind—”

She was closer now, towering. Godlike. Her voice thundered across the sky.

“You think this is love. But love is foolish. Dangerous. Weak.”

Lightning struck the sand nearby, shattering it to glass. You stumbled back, hands raised, but she kept coming.

“You were supposed to be a warrior of thought. My legacy. My pride.”

“I am!” you cried, voice cracking. “I still am, I—!”

“No.”

She stopped before you, her expression carved in stone.

“You are no daughter of mine.”

The chains around Jungwon yanked suddenly, violently. He gasped, the first sound he’d made, as the ocean pulled him backward. His eyes found yours, wide and scared and betrayed.

“Y/N—!”

You sprinted, reaching for him, screaming his name, but your feet sank deeper, the shore crumbling beneath you. Your hand brushed his just as he disappeared beneath the water, swallowed whole.

“Jungwon!”

You collapsed where he’d stood. Salt stung your eyes. The waves receded.

And Athena?

She was gone.

Only the owl remained, circling overhead, shrieking and shrieking until—

You jolted awake.

Your scream caught in your throat. Your sheets were tangled, soaked with sweat. Moonlight poured through the cracks in your cabin walls, bathing everything in silver, but it didn’t soothe you. You were shaking.

You sat up slowly, pressing a hand to your heart. It was racing, too fast, too loud. Your mouth was dry. Your skin clammy. You felt like you’d drowned.

But the worst part wasn’t the fear.

It was the guilt.

Because even in a dream, even in your own subconscious, you hadn’t protected him. You’d stood still. You’d let her take everything.

You covered your face with both hands, trying to breathe through the rising panic. But the shame settled in your bones like frost.

You were Athena’s pride.

Until you weren’t.

And now… you were nothing but a girl caught between what she was born to be, and the boy she couldn’t stop loving.

͏ ͏ུུ̑̑ 🌊𓇼

You’d been quiet for days.

Not the kind of quiet that passes unnoticed, like skipping lunch or keeping your nose buried in a strategy scroll. This was the kind of quiet that carried weight. That pressed between you and Jungwon like a wall, invisible but suffocating. You could feel him watching you during practice. In the mess hall, at the stables. Always hovering just close enough to reach you, but never close enough to touch.

And it was killing you.

Because you missed him. Gods, you missed him like air. But every time you looked at him, all you could see was your mother’s face in that nightmare. Her eyes, the disappointment, the thunderous silence that followed.

You’d never known fear like that.

Not from monsters. Only from the thought of losing everything you were supposed to be.

So you started pulling back. Quietly, strategically.

You stopped meeting him behind the cabins after dinner. You skipped his favorite spot by the lake. You turned your back a little too fast when his hand brushed yours during training.

He noticed, of course he did.

You were halfway through sharpening your dagger after sparring when you felt his presence, steady, warm, uncertain , standing behind you.

You didn’t turn around.

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

His voice was careful, gentle. Like he was trying not to startle something fragile. He always spoke to you like this, with so much swetness and kindness and love, and it would always drive you crazy, the velvet sound of his voice.

You kept your eyes on the blade.

“I’ve been busy.”

“Y/N.”

Just your name, but something in his tone made you pause. You exhaled, sharp and shallow, and finally turned to face him.

Jungwon stood there in his armor, hair damp from training, cheeks still flushed from effort. He looked beautiful, he always did, his dark hair and his blue eyes staring directly at your soul. But he also looked tired. Not from battle, but from you.

“Did I do something wrong?”

The question landed like a knife.

Because no, he hadn’t done anything wrong. Not once. He’d only ever loved you. Gently. Openly. Like you were something worth choosing even when it hurt. He was perfect, he was the sweetest boy ever, the bravest warrior you'd ever known.

But you couldn’t say that.

So instead you lied.

“I just think we should cool off,” you said, forcing your voice to stay even. “Keep some distance. It’s getting too risky.”

He stared at you, like he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing.

“So… you’re cutting me off.”

“It’s not like that—”

“Then what is it like?” he asked, stepping closer. His brows furrowed, confused. Hurt. “Because from where I’m standing, it feels like you don’t want this anymore.”

Your throat tightened.

“You know I do.”

“Do I?” he whispered.

You looked away, jaw clenched.

How could you explain it? The nightmare. The weight of being Athena’s daughter. The way your whole life had been a blueprint for greatness, and how one look from him, one stupid smile, could unravel every careful thread you’d ever laid down. The way that, even if you did love him, with a strength that was greater that the whole Olympus, your pride was always speaking for you, always taking you over. How you didn't want to lose him, but you also didn't want to lose the glory that being your mother's favorite brought to you.

“This… this thing between us,” you said slowly, “it’s not just reckless. It’s selfish.”

Jungwon just stood there, motionless, as if you'd just stabbed him right into his heart. He blinked, and you saw his beautiful ocean eyes glisten with tears he clearly was starting to hold.

“So love is selfish now?”

You winced, the ache on your chest growing by every second, by every word that came out of your mouth, that you didn't mean, but you had to say.

“I’m not ashamed of you,” you said quickly, before he could twist your words further. “I just… I can’t be weak, Jungwon. I can’t afford it. Not with who I am. Not with who she is.”

He was quiet for a long moment. And when he finally spoke, his voice was lower. Raw.

“Do you think I don’t know what’s at stake?” he asked. “You think I haven’t thought about it? Every day? Wondered when they’ll find out, when we’ll be punished, when you’ll leave me to save yourself?”

Your head snapped up. He knew, of course he knew.

“I’m trying to protect us,” you said, eyes stinging. “From them. From everything.”

“But who’s protecting me from you?”

The words knocked the breath from your lungs.

Because you had nothing. No defense. No brilliant answer.

“I wake up every morning wondering if you’re still mine,” he said, stepping back like it hurt to be near you. “And for days now, it’s felt like you’re not.”

Your lips parted, but no sound came out.

He shook his head, blinking too quickly. A single tear fell down his cheek, drowning in the deep dimple that appeared when he swallowed hard.

“I thought you were brave enough to fight for us. I thought… I thought I was more than a mistake you regret.”

“You’re not,” you said, stepping forward, hand reaching for his. “You’re not a mistake.”

But it was too late.

He had already taken a step back.

“Then why do I feel like one?”

And with that, he turned and walked away, his shoulders rigid, his fists clenched, the ocean in his blood rippling with heartbreak you couldn’t soothe. You didn’t stop him. You couldn’t.

Because the truth was… you didn’t know how to love him and live up to the legacy you were born to uphold.

And for the first time since you fell for him, you didn’t know which one would survive.

͏ ͏ུུ̑̑ 🌊𓇼

Jungwon sat on the edge of his bunk, arms resting on his knees, fingers twisted together in a way that made his knuckles pale. He hadn’t taken off his training gear. He hadn’t moved much at all. His sword leaned against the bedframe, untouched. The scent of sea salt still clung to him like a second skin, but it brought no comfort now.

He swallowed hard and pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes.

“I’m not ashamed of you.”

He replayed those words again and again, like they were supposed to soothe something. But they didn’t. Because if you weren't ashamed, then why did it feel like you were hiding him?

It wasn’t the secrecy that hurt. He could live in the shadows if he had to. For you, he would. But the way you looked at him lately, distant, careful, like you were trying to build walls again, that was what made his chest feel too tight to breathe.

“I can’t be weak, Jungwon.”

As if he was the weakness. As if loving him was a flaw you had to crush before it ruined you. He knew who you were. Athena’s daughter. The pride of Cabin Six. The girl with sharp eyes and a sharper mind, who carried the weight of her legacy on her shoulders like it was carved into her bones. You were beautiful, you could easily pass as an Aphrodite girl, the way your hair rested lazily over your shoulders, the way your smile made his knees week the first time you saw him, the way you whispered his name when he was making love to you, making him addicted to you.

So why did it feel like you were already forgetting what that meant?

Jungwon let out a shuddering breath and tilted his head back against the wall, blinking up at the rafters until the blur of tears broke the lines apart.

He hated this.

Not you — never you — but the helplessness. The way love could feel so big and still not be enough to fix things.

“I thought I was more than a mistake you regret.”

He hadn’t meant to say that. Not out loud. But once it slipped, it tasted true. And that terrified him. A tear rolled down the side of his face, catching on his jaw. He didn’t wipe it away.

He let it fall.

Because for the first time since meeting you, since killing the minotaur, since arriving at this camp and watching you from across the arena with his heart in his throat, he wasn’t sure where you two stood anymore.

He loved you. More than he’d ever said. More than he probably should. And gods, it hurt. It hurt that you were slipping through his fingers and he didn’t know how to stop it.

It hurt that he was starting to wonder if maybe love wasn’t enough.

And it hurt worst of all that even though he knew you were pulling away to protect you both, to survive the wrath of your mother, and the drowning rage of his father, part of him still felt like a boy on the shore, watching the tide steal everything he cared about.

So he curled his hands into fists, pressed them to his chest, and let the waves inside him crash, quietly, endlessly, for the girl who once swore she’d never let go.

͏ ͏ུུ̑̑ 🌊𓇼

“Nice form today, Y/N.”

You turned at the sound of Nicholas’ voice, heart already racing before you even saw his face.

Nicholas, Hermes cabin. All charm, all mischief. The kind of camper who never took anything seriously except getting under people’s skin. You hated how he always smiled like he knew more than he should. Like everything was a joke to him, and this time, you were the punchline.

He leaned on the railing beside the water barrel, tapping his fingers idly. You could feel his gaze scraping over you, too casual.

“You’ve been a little distracted lately,” he said. “Something on your mind? Or… someone?”

You straightened your spine, jaw tightening.

“Spit it out, Nicholas. Whatever game you’re playing, I’m not interested.”

He tilted his head, smirking.

“I saw you the other night. By the lake, with Poseidon's son, looked… intimate.”

A cold weight dropped into your stomach. Your throat dried instantly.

You said nothing, but your silence said too much.

Nicholas caught it, like a vulture spotting blood.

“I mean, hey,” he continued, mockingly light, “who hasn’t had a little rendezvous in this camp, right? But rules are rules. And Athena’s daughter, of all people—”

“Shut up,” you snapped, harsher than intended.

His grin widened.

“Oh, I’m not judging. I think it’s cute, actually. But others? Well… they might not be as forgiving if the truth comes out. Especially when the guy in question is the boy of the prophecy.” He tapped his temple and stepped back, smug and infuriatingly calm. “Just a friendly tip: secrets don’t stay secret for long around here.”

And with that, he turned and walked away, leaving his words to fester like poison in your mind.

You stood frozen in place, your breath shallow, eyes locked on the dirt beneath your boots as the weight of his insinuation wrapped around your chest like a vice.

And then, without thinking, you ran.

You didn’t stop until you reached your cabin.

Slamming the door behind you, you stood in the middle of the room, eyes wild, fists clenched, lungs desperate for air that didn’t seem to exist.

Everything was crashing down.

Everything you’d buried. Hidden. All the stolen kisses, the nights spent wrapped in his arms under the stars, the softest parts of you that only Jungwon had ever seen, all of it could be ripped away in an instant.

You couldn’t breathe.

You staggered back until you hit your desk, and then you were sliding to the floor, the sob escaping your lips before you could swallow it. It came out of nowhere, violent, raw.

You pressed a trembling hand to your mouth, trying to keep quiet. The daughter of Athena did not cry like this. Did not fall apart over a boy, no matter how good, no matter how kind, no matter how in love she was.

But it wasn’t just about him.

It was your pride. Your legacy. Everything your mother had molded you to be, sharp, brilliant, composed.

You were Athena’s pride.

The one who always knew the answer. The one who played by the rules. Who walked with her head high because she earned it.

And now?

Now you were a hypocrite. A traitor to your own name.

“I don’t know what to do,” you whispered into your knees, your voice cracked and desperate. “Gods, I don’t know what to do.”

You curled in on yourself on the floor, letting the panic crest and break over you like waves you couldn’t swim through.

What if someone told Chiron?

What if the gods already knew?

What if your mother — your mother — had already seen it in some cruel vision and was just waiting, disappointed, silent?

What if this love ruined everything?

And yet… you couldn’t let go of him.

Not when his voice still lingered in your ears. Not when your heart still beat his name with every breath.

“I love him,” you choked out, barely audible. “I love him, and I can’t stop.”

The cabin was silent except for your broken sobs.

You’d never felt so torn, between what you were expected to be, and what you wanted.

͏ ͏ུུ̑̑ 🌊𓇼

You didn’t knock.

Jungwon’s cabin door creaked open under your trembling hand, and the moment you stepped inside, he was already standing. Shirt loose, curls mussed from tossing and turning in bed. He hadn’t been sleeping. You could tell.

His eyes widened the second he saw your face.

“Y/N—?”

“We have a problem,” you blurted, stepping in and shutting the door a little too hard behind you. “A serious problem.”

Jungwon’s heart leapt.

“What happened? Are you okay?”

You started pacing.

“No. No, I’m not okay. I’m freaking out.”

“Talk to me,” he said gently, stepping forward, but your hands went up between you.

“Nicholas knows,” you said, breath shallow. “He saw us. By the lake. I don’t know what he saw exactly, but he knows something. He’s already smirking at me like he’s got dirt to use. And it’s only a matter of time before—before he tells someone or it slips or—gods, Jungwon, this can’t happen.”

He froze.

“You’re sure?”

“I felt it,” you said, eyes wide and panicked. “In the way he looked at me. Like he was holding something over me. And I—” You trailed off, your voice beginning to crack. “I’m scared. I’m scared, and I don’t know what to do, and I’ve worked so hard to be good. To be worthy. And now it all might fall apart because I couldn’t stay away from you.”

He flinched, like the words stung more than you intended.

You didn’t mean it like that. But gods, it felt like that, didn’t it?

You wrapped your arms around yourself, feeling the first wave of tears threaten your vision.

“You don’t understand, Jungwon. I’m Athena’s daughter. I’m supposed to be better. Controlled. Above feelings. I’m not supposed to break like this. Not for a boy. Not even—” You swallowed hard. “Not even for you.”

That landed somewhere deep in him.

Jungwon’s chest rose and fell sharply. His hands curled into fists at his sides, the candlelight flickering across the tense set of his jaw.

“So… what?” he said, voice quiet but edged. “You regret this?”

“No,” you snapped, stepping toward him before you could stop yourself. “No, I don’t regret you. I regret that loving you makes everything feel so dangerous. Like I’m walking on a tightrope every second of the day.”

His eyes flicked over your face, searching for something, maybe the part of you that still wanted to run. Maybe the part that still belonged to the version of you your mother had carved out.

“I didn’t mean to fall in love with you,” you whispered, like it hurt to say aloud. “But I did. And now I feel like I’m suffocating. Like every day I’m waiting for it all to collapse.”

Silence followed, taut and raw.

And then Jungwon stepped forward, slowly, deliberately, until he was standing so close you could feel the warmth of his body.

“You think I don’t know that?” he murmured, voice tight with emotion.

You blinked, breath catching in your throat.

“I know your pride matters,” he continued, softer now. “I know your mother matters. Your legacy. Everything you’ve worked for. But I’d give up everything I am if it meant I didn’t have to watch you look at me like this — like I’m something you have to hide.”

Tears slipped down your cheeks then, warm and silent.

“I’m not ashamed of you,” you said, voice cracking. “I’m ashamed of how much I need you.”

His breath hitched.

The air between you felt electric, your pain mingling with his until it became indistinguishable. A mess of fear and want and love, too much love, pressed tightly between your chests.

You didn’t think, couldn’t.

You just reached for him.

The kiss that followed wasn’t soft.

It was desperate.

Your mouth crashed into his with a kind of aching hunger, your hands sliding into his hair, gripping like you needed to collide yourself to him completely or drown. He gasped into you, a small sound of surprise that melted into something deeper when your lips opened beneath his. Jungwon's arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you flush against him. His kiss was fire, slow and steady and building, like it had been waiting, simmering, and now it couldn’t be stopped. But his addictive taste was the same as always, yours.

You pulled him closer, felt the hard lines of his body through the thin fabric of his shirt, felt the way his breath stuttered when you whispered his name into his mouth.

“Y/N…” he murmured between kisses, voice thick, full of too much.

You pressed your forehead against his, eyes shut tight.

“I can’t lose you,” you whispered.

“You won’t.”

Another kiss. Deeper. Slower. His lips traced yours with reverence now, hands trailing up your back, cupping your face as though you were breakable and holy all at once. You tugged him backward toward the bed, your fingers laced in his.

And he followed, every inch of him trembling with restraint, devotion, and a need that had been buried too long.

“I want to stay,” you whispered.

He looked at you like you were the most precious thing the gods had ever made, his ocean blue orbes glistening, maybe from tears he was holding back, maybe from love, maybe from need and lust.

“Then stay.”

And as you fell into his arms again, heart pounding and lips seeking his, you weren’t Athena’s daughter or the camp’s golden girl or the girl who always followed the rules.

You were just his.

Everything else faded the moment he kissed you again, slower this time. Deep, careful, like he was memorising the shape of you, the way your lips parted for him with such natural ease. Jungwon’s fingers grazed your jaw, tilting your chin up slightly as his mouth trailed to your cheek, then your neck. You gasped when his lips found the spot just beneath your ear - the place he knew made your knees weak - the sensation lighting something warm and dizzying in your stomach.

“I’ve missed this,” he murmured against your skin. “Every night. What it would feel like to have you under me again. Just… you. Mine.”

Your breathing was shaky, legs trembling where they were tangled with his. Tilting your head so you could give him more space, you let your hands trail around his body, above the clothes, shaky fingers in his perfectly built figure.

“Jungwon…”

He pulled back just enough to look you in the eyes. His expression had changed, darker, softer. Tender and commanding all at once. Not even with the lust taking over his whole body, the sweetness in the way he looked at you went away. And that's what got you even more worked up, what really got you about the way he touched and needed you.

“You’re shaking,” he whispered, brushing your hair from your face. “Tell me if it’s too much. We stop whenever you say.”

“I don’t want you to stop.” The words came out in a breath, trembling but true. “I’ve missed you too”

His throat bobbed as he swallowed, his chest heaving, like the need was too much, like the fear of losing you was too much.

“Okay,” he said softly, kissing your forehead. “Then let me take care of you.”

His touch grew more confident now, fingers skimming down your arms, your sides, slipping beneath the hem of your shirt like he’d dreamed of it a hundred times. His palms pressed to the skin of your ribs, and you squirmed under him, the touch sending a shiver through your whole body, every pore jumping like it knew you who you belonged to.

“Off,” he said gently, tugging your top. “Let me see you, my pretty girl.”

You nodded, heart pounding, and lifted your arms. He peeled the fabric away with reverence, like unveiling a secret. When his eyes met your bare skin, he let out a slow breath, even if he already saw you like this thousands of times, he always looked at you with the same glow in his blue eyes. You were left in your bra, and he didn't waste time before cupping your breasts with his hands, squeezing, never tough, just needy, like he couldn't believe you were his. A whimper left your mouth as you arched your back.

“Beautiful.” His voice was hoarse. “You always are, gods, I don’t think I’ll survive you.”

Your face burned, but he kissed the blush across your cheeks, your collarbone, your chest, like worship. Like you were sacred. He took his time undressing you, undoing each layer with soft kisses and careful hands, murmuring praise against your skin.

Once your pants dropped to the floor and you where left in your underwear, he bit his lip and hooked his fingers on the waistband, not pulling yet, just teasing himself and you. You were dripping, pooling wetness against the thin fabric, always so needy for him, for his touch.

Then he lowered his face, pressing soft kisses on your chest and abdomen.

“So pretty,” he whispered against your stomach. “So fucking perfect for me.”

And when he finally hovered above you, his hand cupped your cheek again.

“I want to make love to you,” he said, voice trembling now too. “Not just fuck you. Not tonight.”

Your eyes welled.

“Me too.”

He kissed you again, slower than before, hips pressing gently into yours. Every movement was deliberate, soft friction, just enough to make you ache, enough to make you reach for him. He was already hard beneath his pants, you felt him, familiar, thick, throbbing against you, and you rocked your hips too just to feel him more.

You felt his hand trail between your legs, until he reached under your panties, fingers slipping between your pussy folds with ease because he already knew every part of you. He watched you unravel beneath him, whispering your name as your breath hitched, soaking his digits with your wetness.

“You’re soaking, baby,” he murmured, eyes dark and full of want. “You want me this badly?”

“Please,” you whimpered. “I need you.”

He groaned softly and kissed your lips, your throat, your chest, until you were gasping and arching and begging. In one move he removed your bra, in the next second he slipped your panties out of you, throwing them on the floor. You were naked now, all for him.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered. “Gonna make you feel so good. Gonna make you fall apart on me.”

You didn't respond, you couldn't, because he grabbed your knees, strong but still gentle, spreading you just for him, blue eyes fixated in your dripping pussy, and then shoved two fingers inside of you. A soft moan left your plumped lips, your back arched again as he curled them inside of you just perfectly, as always, because he knew how much you liked it, and he groaned, thrusting them in and out of you with a slick, wet sound, until his knuckles disappeared between your tight walls.

"So perfect, so mine. Always"

“Gods, Jungwon—” you breathed, voice shaking.

He moved them expertly, fucking you with slow, deliberate thrusts, knuckles sinking deep as the slick sounds of your arousal filled the quiet of the room. His other hand stayed on your thigh, grounding you, while his mouth pressed against your stomach, your hip, your inner thigh, leaving kisses like promises.

“You take me so well, baby,” he murmured. “So tight, so perfect.”

Every word from him sent shivers down your spine. He wasn’t teasing, he wasn’t being cocky. He meant it. Every filthy, reverent word came from the deepest part of him, the part that only you got to see.

“Mine,” he whispered, curling his fingers again, right against that spot that made you cry out. “Always.”

You reached down, tangling your fingers in his hair, tugging gently. He looked up at you, pupils blown wide, cheeks flushed.

And then he leaned in again, pressing a kiss to the inside of your thigh, right where your skin was hottest, trembling, his breath brushing over your soaked folds before he pulled his fingers out with a slow, deliberate drag. You whimpered, your body instinctively following the loss. But before you could beg for more, he slipped his fingers into his mouth, sucking them clean with a soft groan, his eyes locked on yours the entire time.

“Can’t get enough of how you taste,” he said lowly, voice barely more than a rasp. “So sweet… always so fucking sweet.”

Your chest heaved, the air thick and heavy between you. Every touch, every word, every glance, it wasn’t just lust. It was something more dangerous. More consuming. More permanent.

He leaned back down, this time using both hands to spread you open, thumbs gliding over your folds, your clit swollen and throbbing with need. He looked reverent, like you were art, and he was both the sculptor and the worshiper.

“You’re shaking for me,” he whispered, his voice suddenly gentler again, one hand coming up to rest against your lower belly as he lowered his mouth.

Then his tongue flicked over your clit — just once — and your whole body jerked.

“Jungwon,” you gasped, fingers flying to his hair again.

“That’s it,” he murmured against you, tongue moving slowly, teasingly, just enough to make your hips buck. “This is how i love to see you.”

He licked you like he had all the time in the world, slow circles, open-mouthed kisses, soft sucks to your clit that made your thighs tremble around his head. Every now and then, he’d hum, sending vibrations through your whole core, and you could feel the smug curl of his lips when you gasped his name again and again.

You were already close. Too close.

“Please—” your voice cracked. “Please don’t stop.”

He didn’t. In fact, he doubled down, slipping one hand from your thigh and easing two fingers back inside you while his mouth never left your clit. The stretch was perfect. He knew your body too well, knew just how to angle them, curl them, fuck them into you until your body was arching and your moans were turning into broken sobs of pleasure, until you were leaking and dripping against his sheets.

“Feels good?” he whispered, voice soaked in heat and affection, eyes dark and heavy with love. “You gonna give it to me, baby?”

You nodded desperately, unable to form words.

“Do it,” he whispered, curling his fingers deep and sucking on your clit just right. “Be a good girl and come on my mouth.”

Your whole body tensed, then unraveled as you cried out his name, trembling under his touch, his mouth never leaving you as he worked you through every wave of it.

By the time you came down, your limbs were boneless, your heart pounding, tears slipping from your eyes, not from pain or fear, but from everything you felt all at once.

Jungwon crawled up your body slowly, tenderly, kissing your skin on the way. When he reached your lips, he hovered just a moment, brushing a thumb over your cheek.

“You okay?” he whispered.

"Perfect." You smiled softly, and he pressed a wet kiss in your mouth.

His kiss deepened, warm and slow, as if he was trying to memorize every inch of your mouth. You could still taste yourself on his tongue, but it didn’t matter, all that mattered was how close he was, how real he felt against you, how your body ached to be his completely.

When you tugged gently at his shirt, he sat up on his knees above you, pulling it over his head in one swift motion. The soft golden light from the lone lantern flickered against his skin, his toned chest rising and falling quickly, some scars still there from previous fights, lips parted, eyes dark. Beautiful. Yours. So, so yours.

Your fingers found his waistline next, fumbling with the buttons, breath catching as he leaned down and helped you, his forehead brushing yours with a quiet:

“I’ve got you.”

He pulled down his own pants, followed by his boxers, and he was bare in front of you. Your eyes glowed, his thick length against his lower belly, veins popping, needy, red tip, familiar and yours. A shiver went down your spine.

You whispered his name like a prayer, and he stilled for a moment, eyes searching yours.

“This time feels different,” he said softly. “Like… more.”

Your throat tightened.

“Because it is.”

You both knew it wasn’t the first time. There’d been late nights before, stolen hours where desire burned hot and fast, but this wasn’t just need. This was everything you were afraid to feel. Everything you were terrified to lose.

“I don’t want to hide it anymore,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

His hands cupped your face, thumbs brushing your cheeks.

“Then don’t"

You nodded, tears threatening again as he leaned down and kissed them away. Jungwon then grabbed his member, stroking himself a little, soft whimpers leaving his lips, before rubbing his swollen tip against your sensitive and dripping folds.

When he finally entered you, it was slow, so slow it made you cry out, your fingers digging into his shoulders. He stretched you so good, you could feel every vein, every inch of him against your clenched walls. He groaned against your neck, like the feel of you around him still overwhelmed him every single time.

“Gods, baby,” he whispered. “You feel like fucking heaven. Always so tight for me.”

You gasped as he bottomed out, your hips rising to meet him instinctively. He stilled there, his forehead pressed to yours again, letting you adjust. Letting you feel it, feel him, hot breath crashing with your face.

“You okay?” he asked, voice wrecked and low.

“Better than okay,” you whispered, brushing his hair back with shaking hands. “Please move.”

And he did.

He started thrusting gently, every motion slow and precise, like he was trying to make love to every part of your soul. His lips trailed across your jaw, down your neck, whispering praise between kisses.

“So good for me,” he murmured. “Taking me so well… like you were made for me.”

Your back arched, your body meeting his in perfect rhythm. It wasn’t fast. It wasn’t rushed. It was desperate in a different way, two people clinging to something they knew could shatter.

“Jungwon—” you breathed, your eyes locked on his.

He looked at you like you were divine. Like you were the most beautiful thing in every realm. He leaned down, his lips brushing yours.

“Tell me you’re mine,” he said, his voice breaking just a little. “Just for now. Even if we can’t be… just for now.”

“I’m yours,” you whispered back. “I’ve always been yours.”

The pace stuttered, his control slipping as he pressed his hips harder into you, chasing both your pleasure and his heartbreak. One of his hands found yours, fingers lacing together tightly. Anchored. Even fucking you like this, you could feel it, the deep love he felt for you, and that you felt for him. His thrusts were perfect, not too rough, but spot on, always, hitting places inside of you that made you clenche around his length even tighter and cry out his name, nails digging deep in his skin, but he didn't care, he just moaned in response, hips bucking against yours creating an obscene sound that sounded so romantic for you both.

The coil inside you start to wind again, tighter, sharper, deeper this time. Your breaths came quicker, your moans soft and shaky as his other hand reached down between you, rubbing your clit in perfect circles.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered, his voice strained. “Gonna come with me, baby? Let go for me?”

You cried out, clinging to him like he was the only thing left in the world, and when you fell apart this time, it wasn’t just your body, it was everything. Your heart, your pride, your fears, all unraveling in his arms. Your pussy clenched around him as the orgasm hit you, eyes shut and body trembling, shaking under him with so much force.

He followed with a broken groan, burying himself deep inside you as he came, spilling everything he had into you with a desperate whisper of your name, filling you so good and familiar, so warm.

After that, neither of you moved. The room was silent except for your ragged breathing, your trembling limbs tangled together in the quiet aftermath.

Then Jungwon leaned down, brushing his lips over your forehead.

“I love you,” he whispered. “No matter what the gods say. No matter what we have to face.”

You didn’t answer, you just held him tighter, tears silently slipping down your cheeks.

The candle burned low. Only the faint flicker of flame lit the cabin now, warm shadows on the walls and in the curve of Jungwon’s jaw. He laid on his side, propped up on one elbow, watching you like you were the only thing left in the world worth looking at.

You were still lying beside him, tangled in the same blanket, your fingers absentmindedly tracing the constellation of tiny scars on his shoulder. The silence between you was comfortable… but it wasn’t light. It was heavy with the weight of everything you couldn’t keep ignoring.

You swallowed.

“Jungwon?” you whispered, not looking up.

“Hm?”

“I’ve been thinking.”

He waited, gaze fixed on you.

You inhaled slowly.

“About… everything. My mom. The rules. Camp. This—us.”

You finally lifted your eyes, and he sat up a little straighter at the expression on your face, not sad, not angry… just raw. Exposed. Real.

“All my life,” you started, voice steady despite the ache in your chest, “I’ve been told that pride is the root of wisdom. That it’s what separates us from chaos. From weakness. My mother always said I was her greatest creation — her ‘perfect daughter.’ I grew up thinking that meant I couldn’t make mistakes. That I had to be the best. Always.”

Jungwon didn’t speak. He only listened, his thumb brushing slow circles over your wrist.

“And for a long time, I thought love would ruin me,” you said. “Make me weak. I thought being with you — loving you — would destroy everything I worked for. Everything she was proud of.”

You sat up now too, holding the blanket against your chest, your eyes shining in the dark.

“But that was a lie,” you whispered. “A lie I let myself believe because I was scared. Because I thought if I chose you, I’d stop being who I was. But now I know… loving you hasn’t made me weak. It’s made me stronger.”

He let out a soft, shaky breath, like he’d been holding it the whole time.

“I don’t care if I disappoint her anymore,” you went on. “I don’t care if it makes me less of what she wanted. I want to be with you. Fully. No more secrets. No more shame.”

Jungwon reached for you immediately, pulling you into his lap, your arms wrapping around his neck. His heart was pounding hard against your ribs, and his hands were holding you like he was afraid you’d vanish.

“I don’t deserve you,” he said, voice low and cracked with emotion.

“You have me,” you said firmly. “You always have.”

He pulled back just far enough to look at you, and his expression was nothing short of awe.

“Then let’s run,” he said suddenly, breathless. “Let’s run away.”

You blinked, stunned.

“Run?”

He nodded, eyes wild and full of wonder.

“Not forever. Just… for now. Just us. Away from the rules and the gods and the war they want to throw us into. We’ll find a place by the sea, somewhere no one knows us. And we’ll just be.”

You searched his face, your lips parting with the storm of feelings surging in your chest.

“Can we do that?” you asked softly, like a child asking for a dream.

“We can do anything,” he said. “As long as you’re with me. I’ll fight fate. I’ll fight Olympus. I’ll fight my own prophecy if I have to.”

Tears welled in your eyes again, but they weren’t from fear this time. They were from the sheer, overwhelming gravity of his love.

You leaned in and kissed him, slow, deep, aching, like a vow.

And when you pulled away, your voice was no longer scared

“Then let’s run.”

You knew it then, it didn't matter anymore. You would fight the whole Olympus, your own mother, even yourself, for the clumsy boy that one came to camp without knowing how to swing a sword, for the boy who stole your heart with those dimples and soft voice, for the boy who belonged not only to the salt and sea, but to you.

as always, thank u so much for reading, this one took me a lot of time because i was so blocked, but got through it. i didn’t proofread so sorry for the mistakes <3

taglist: @gulicore @bussolares @vixialuvs @berryloveseunghan @lilifiedeans @m1kkso @usuallyunlikelyfox @jayjw16enxp @starfallia @bellsjakesgf @zuwishii @cutehoons02 @immelissaaa @nyxtwixx @kayjiguki @emisluvr @k1ttyjwon @cherrymaria58 @koizekomi @crysieberry @add-this-to-that @ii-mimii @luumiinaa @firstclassjaylee @elicheel @vintaegegirl @petalsofink @mariegibeau @tunafishyfishylike @kristynaaah @stercul1a @bl43bl00d @yazmike @yeonmuse @kryllea @e-r-i-15 @ashrocker123 @deluluscenarios @ziiao

[jailforwriter]

Let's delve into...

Look, I know you don't like to fail. I KNOW. Neither do I. But do you know who will—and should—fail a lot? YES, your characters! Failure does all the nifty things writing teachers promise us will keep the story interesting: raise the stakes, bring emotions to a boil, and keep things from stagnating and/or getting predictable. Triumphs have their place, and should be present (unless you enjoy metaphorically kicking your readers in the shins, which, hey, more power to you!) but your characters can't always win. That's boring, and unfortunately, boring is the biggest noncriminal sin in entertainment. The good news is that, when your character does win, their previous failure is going to make it all the more satisfying. Doesn't that make you want to nail that failure for maximum improvability? (Hey I HEARD YOU rolling your eyes just now. Rhetorical questions are NOT cringe. Rude.)

So, what do I mean by a "good failure"?

Basically, when they mess up naturally, because of their own choices, in a way that reflects their flaws. "But wait," I hear you say, "does that exclude the possibility of an external circumstance making for a good catalysts for failure?" Nope! There are no hard and fast rules in writing, and shit does, indeed, just happen sometimes. Happen poignantly, even. But your character can't be entirely blameless in every scenario because then things get *taps on chalkboard* BORING. Seriously, consequences are so cool, I promise.

Okay then, why do I want a good failure?

Emotional resonance: do you remember that time you studied hard and still failed the test? Betcha that felt real bad. Yeah, it's that, but magnified by however many people died (or were sad about it! The stakes don't always need to be cataclysmic).

Catalyst for organic growth: do you remember how failing that test made you decide never to pull an all-nighter cramming again? Perhaps even reassess your relationship with God, your identity, and your place in the universe? Yep. And it felt earned, too. Huh.

Narrative depth: how mad were your parents about that test? And how much did it suck getting your Nintendo taken away because of it? That was compelling, realistic tension, baby! It put you right on the—unfun, but necessary—path to making that eventual success feel meaningful. Yay.

Relatability: you know, I felt kinda bad writing all that stuff about how failing that test wrecked you. Because I have empathy, certainly, but also because I've been there too! Mistakes are human, and few things are more effective at humanizing someone than making them an honorary cringefail loser. (This holds especially true if they're usually the god king of being hot and correct, btw.)

Fine, so how do I go about writing that?

Foreshadowing: why, yes, everything DOES always come back to foreshadowing. Good catch! See, foreshadowing marks the difference between a failure being contrived and awkward, and landing because it was tragically inevitable. The character has been making bad decisions that will come back to bite them all book, and the time for gleaning lessons from the teeth marks on their ass is now.

Make the failure specific and personal: sure, failing a test is a universal experience, but failing the most important test ever conceived in the history of mankind and if you fail your mom will hate you and your girlfriend will leave you and you'll go bald isn't. Make 'em feel it where it hurts!

Consequences: internal or external, they better be tailormade to catalyze change. Be it damaged interpersonal relationships or crippling self-doubt, they better not walk away from their mess-up willing to do it again. (NOTE: exceptions may apply in negative character arcs, but even then, the next time they make that mistake, it shouldn't be the exact same one again. It should be so, so much worse.)

Redemption: following on from the last point—make it a turning point! Show me how things are fifty kinds of broken now and how your character plans on rebuilding the mess using the tools they just got from chucking the toolbox full-tilt at their lives.

Examples be upon ye:

Simba in The Lion King: hopefully we can all agree that thinking you caused your father's death is a valid reason to crash out. However, the important thing here is that the crash-out was not eternal. It allowed for an emotional development cooldown period, and when it did end, empowered Simba to make his triumphant return all the more triumphant. Do you think smacking his geriatric uncle off a mountain would've been half as hot if his emotional arc and subsequent redemption had been underbaked? No. Literally. C'mon, lock in.

Zuko in Avatar: The Last Airbender: ahh yes, the king of redemption arcs, which kinda also makes him the king of cringefailing (both externally and internally! Very illustrative, thank you, Zuko). But I bet you don't just remember his struggle with capturing Aang. In fact, I'd bet quite a few buckaroos what you most remember is his struggle with honor. Could it be because you're grateful for what each setback did to help him find his? What about how they taught him that true honor was internally cultivated rather than externally conferred? And the fact that he chose to help the person whom he'd vowed to destroy in order to get it, for which he used the tools he painstakingly won throughout his arc? Hmm. Perchance. See what I mean? It just feels right when things come full circle, and boy is a good failure shaped like zero!

Ultimately, I hope you found something useful here and that, the next time you're down in the trenches of narrative predictability and character stagnation, you consider pissing in their metaphorical coffees. Thank you!

Happy writing!

[dedalvs]

My brother and I absolutely cackled after that Aemond and Aegon Valyrian exchange!

I wanted to ask (and I'm terrible at conlangs, so forgive me) what grammar/syntax Aegon is stumbling over here and how to properly say what he intended to? Any why is he making thise mistakes (simply lacking the vocabulary, or rules of the language he hasn’t grasped)?

Let's take a look at it. This is what he said:

Nyke koston... Bēvilus... Sētegon bīlīvāzmi?

The subtitles say this:

"I can... Have to... Make a war?"

Prior to this Aemond is, essentially, showing off. He knows that Aegon has simply not put any time into studying Valyrian (or studying anything). At this stage, Valyrian is no longer spoken by the family on a day-to-day basis—especially as Alicent probably never learned it at all (or if she did, only in a few scattered lessons here and there; not to actually use). In order for either of the boys to gain any kind of fluency in the language, they have to study constantly and find ways to use it. There's simply no daily need for the language—and plenty of reasons not to use it, as very, very few people they'll encounter on a daily basis speak the language.

Now, if we were talking about two random people in Westeros, this wouldn't mean anything. But these are the children of Viserys Targaryen, himself a descendant of Aegon the Conqueror. They brought their family line and their culture with them to Westeros—and, of course, their language. If someone like Alicent Hightower doesn't speak High Valyrian it means nothing. If a Targaryen doesn't speak High Valyrian, though… See, they're supposed to be able to speak Valyrian. Failing to do so carries with it a sense of shame that isn't present for a random person who doesn't speak Valyrian. Aemond knows this. Aegon is annoying him, so he goes poking at that wound.

Aemond could have fed him a short line with an obvious answer to help Aegon out, but instead he threw a whole mess of Valyrian at him. The longer it goes on, the more lost Aegon gets, desperately trying to catch up and figure out what was just said and thereby missing what is being said at that instant. From the whole speech, Aegon probably only figured out that he was being asked a question, and it was something having to do with planning.

So, back to what he says. The beginning student of a language is quite adept at doing a single verb in a present tense sentence. In a discussion like this, though, you're typically saying things like "I think that" or "We should" or "I suggest" or "Perhaps we might", etc. All that stuff that we need to offer opinions, make suggestions, hedge, etc. Much more than simple narration.

Aegon is attempting to do this without a sufficient command of the language. He knows some vocabulary, he knows some grammar, but he simply did not put in the work to actually speak this language. Thus, he has to overcome a lot of Common Tongue (i.e. English) interference.

There are many differences between Valyrian and English, but the biggest one by far is the major word order. In English, the verbs come before the rest of the junk; in Valyrian, they come at the end. And this is how things get all messed up.

In English, you start the sentence saying things like "I think" or "We should" or "It seems". In Valyrian, those things come at the end. If you start with the Valyrian equivalent of "I think", you will quickly realize (presuming you know enough of the grammar) that you're sunk, because once you've said it, the sentence should be done. Thus you get Aegon's false starts.

Starting at the beginning, Aegon says Nyke koston, which is kind of like saying, "I could". But there's nowhere to go. This is how a sentence ends. For example, if he wanted to say, "I could fly to Harrenhal", he would say Harenhalot sōvegon koston—literally "To Harrenhal fly I could". If you're thinking English-ly, you're essentially thinking backwards, and if you simply translate what you're thinking, you'll immediately have nowhere to go. You'll have to take a pause and think about how to get started again. And that's exactly what happens here.

Now, leaving aside that Valyrian is a pro-drop language and starting it off with nyke "I" is unnecessary and makes you look like a beginner, koston isn't bad (I mean, if used sentence-finally). Once he realizes he can't start there, though, he loses confidence. It's those old High Valyrian lessons all over again, and some maester suggesting he hasn't studied. That self-doubt makes his facility with Valyrian worse. This means his chances of recovery are severely hampered.

But onward he presses, and he decides to say "We have to" or "I have to". Now, the problem here is in Valyrian that requires the verb bēvilagon. This verb isn't used in the usual way. Literally it means "to lie on". If you wanted to say "We must mobilize our dragons", you'd say Īlvī zaldrīzī mazannagon īlo bēvilza. That's literally "Our dragons to mobilize us it lies upon". The one who must do something is placed in the genitive and put directly before the verb. If you start with the verb, well, you missed your chance to say who it is that must be doing something—let alone what they must do. Another false start.

It's also worth noting that he says bēvilus as opposed to bēvilza. Let's ignore that it's the aorist and focus on the fact that it's the subjunctive (just like koston). You use the subjunctive with your main verb when you're hedging—when you're suggesting. Not when you're commanding. Kind of an odd thing to say "We must do this" with the subjunctive. Kind of like saying "Maybe we might considering having to do this".

At this point, his confidence has completely evaporated. Everybody's staring at him like he has no idea what he's talking about; Aemond's eating it up. He knows he's cooked. He's got to say something, though, so he says sētegon which isn't even conjugated. It means "to make" or "to create", which might make sense in English (e.g. "to make war"), but doesn't make sense in Valyrian (a bit like saying "to construct a war" or even "to bake a war") and then tries to pronounce vīlībāzmi "war" (wrong case/number, wrong order) and fails, saying bīlīvāzmi, which means nothing (also he wanted vīlībāzme. Vīlībāzmi is "wars").

Long story short, he doesn't present himself very well—and we didn't even talk about his general pronunciation or intonation. It's kind of a great big mess in only five words. A true disaster.

But if there were no expectation that he should be able to speak Valyrian, none of this would matter! If there were no shame associated with him specifically not being able to speak Valyrian no one would expect it of him, and this challenge would mean as little as someone challenging him to speak the Old Tongue or Asshai'i. It'd be meaningless.

In short, this small portion of this scene is about being a heritage speaker of a language. It's the exact nightmare scenario all heritage speakers fear: To be put on stage and made to perform despite being unequal to the task while simultaneously feeling that they should be equal to it.

It'd be so cool if it was okay to be kind of good with a language—if that level of mastery was acceptable. In the real world, anyway.

[starsandsuch]

✩Your big 6 in Vedic Astrology ✩

This is based on the first 6 components I’d look at when I first read someone’s Vedic chart.

These are the most important parts of your Vedic chart, in my opinion.

*Disclaimer: This is in no particular order. Please only consider your Vedic chart based on this post*

#1 Ascendant

✧ Your ascendant sign represents the exact minute you take breath here in this present incarnation. This is why your exact birth time is so important.

✧ The zodiacal constellation that was “rising” on the eastern horizon the time of day you were born is the moment your soul decided to incarnate. Aka your “rising sign”. Each zodiacal constellation only rises for about 2hrs each.

✧ The Eastern direction energetically symbolizes new beginnings and connects to the beginning of a cycle. The Sun rises from the east.

✧ It’s like your soul choosing: “I want to experience this lifetime with xyz rising sign, so I can learn the lessons related to the karma of that sign”. It’s similar to your Atmakaraka (soul planet) in that sense. The Asc sign is your biggest teacher.

✧ The Ascendant sets the entire alignment of your chart.

✧ You tend to experience the main trope of the Nakshatra you have as your Ascendant in a literal way.

✧ Study the mythology behind the Deity of your Asc Nakshatra, the lore associated with it is key information in your souls journey.

#2 Moon

✫ Since moon is the most sensitive + pure planet, the sign/ Nakshatra you have as your moon depicts your innermost framework for how you express yourself, think, your mentality, how you experience emotion etc.

✫ In Vedic Astrology they consider your Moon sign as your primary sign. The way Western uses Sun signs is how the Vedic world sees Moon signs.

✫ The Nakshatra your Moon sign is in is of utmost importance.

Related: what your moon placement says about you

#3 Sun

✦ Sun is your consciousness. It’s the core of your being energetically. The sun sign/placement/ Nakshatra you have depicts the frequency you naturally resonate at.

✦ You don’t have to try to embody the traits of your sun, yet you express it naturally.

✦ It represents your identity in this incarnation.

Related: what your sun placement says about you

#4 Lagnesh

✲ Your Lagnesh is the house + sign placement of your 1st house ruler.

✲ What is the ruling planet of your Ascendant sign? What house is that planet sitting in your chart? This is your Lagnesh ➡️ it shows you where your life journey/ souls purpose will lead you in life.

✲ You can think of it as an extension of your Ascendant sign.

✲ In Vedic your Ascendant sign is called your “Lagna”. So “Lagnesh” is like translating to “that which is like your Lagna.”

Related: your chart ruler & your unique life path

#5 Ketu

❆ Without Ketu you wouldn’t exist. It’s the psychological foundation of your consciousness during this life time.

❆ It is similar to downloading certain programming into a robot. Your Ketu placement shows the “programming” you were born with. Over the course of several incarnations, this is what your soul has cultivated and accumulated through many lifetimes.

❆ That’s why Ketu’s placement shows what comes easy to us, or comes in mysterious ways you didn’t plan for. You already mastered it in a past life, now it comes with less effort in this life time. It’s ingrained in the fabric of your subconscious.

❆ It’s important to know the sign it’s in and what planet rules that sign. The ruling planet of your Ketu placement depicts the overall themes that are deep in your subconscious.

Related: your Ketu sign & your dreamscape

Ketu through the houses: where do you experience detachment & separation

#6 Atmakaraka

✵ This is the planet with the highest degree in your Vedic birth chart. It represents what your soul seeks to experience in this lifetime.

✵ We call this your “soul planet”

✵ With the placement/sign/nakshatra of your Atmakaraka it depicts what you are destined to experience life lessons related to themes based on that planet/placement/sign.

✵ People tend to embody their Atmakaraka strongly. For example: even if your primary placements (sun/moon/ascendant) don’t have a certain nakshatra, if your AK planet is in in that nakshatra, you can resonate with themes of that Nak.

✵ I’ve personally observed people embody the physical traits of whatever there AK planet is.

✵ Ex: even if you don’t have primary placements in Ashlesha, if you’re AK planet is in Ashlesha, you might physically look like other Ashlesha natives.

Related: your soul planet & your mission in this lifetime

Atmakaraka through the houses: how does your soul’s purpose manifest in this life time

[hrts4nagi]

best friends brother!

my best friend's brother is the one for me!

pairing :: itoshi sae x gn!reader (short implied)

synopsis :: third year of high school and graduation is right around the corner! you have so many great and upcoming things up ahead. some planned and some unplanned.

what definitely wasn’t planned was falling for itoshi sae, more commonly known as your best friend’s brother.

what a way to break the pact.

wc :: 2.3k

extra :: i love the victorious sound track!!!! p.s listen to best friend's brother for a better experience :>

the best friend pact - rules:

#1 - always be happy for each other

#2 what was number two again?

#3 - do not fall for your itoshi sae

SUCCESS FAILED

shit.

well, to be completely fair it’s not like you meant to fall for itoshi sae right? it’s not like you were always searching for him as soon as you entered the room. it’s not like you didn’t mean to get lost in his gorgeous teal eyes. or the way you’d get sneak a peek at his abs whenever he had to wipe the sweat from his forehead.

who am i kidding?

you’re completely, utterly, hopelessly in love with itoshi sae. did i mention he was your best friend’s brother?

who knew a pact made 12 years ago would be the sole cause of your distress?

the rules have gotten fuzzy over the years but the one clear rule rin emphasized every time was to not fall for sae. he claimed it was because they have the same eyes, eyelashes, and name. he thinks it would be the equivalent of you dating him.

and he does not like the sound of that.

-

“reo i’m so screwed!” you flop onto his king-sized mattress rolling around face covering your eyes.

“hey! at least change out of your uniform before rolling around in my bed.” he scolds.

you stuck out your tongue at him in response earning a scoff back. “i wish i could lay here all day," you sigh contently.

“that’s what i’ve been saying,” you yelp not noticing the white-haired boy under the covers.

gasping, you clutch your chest in shock. “what the hell, nagi? have you been here this whole time?”

“yah, you woke me up the second you landed on me.”

he rubs his eyes before sitting up. “hey, y/n while you’re here can you make those buldak noodles you always make? i really want something spicy."

“yeah sure, reo do you still any packets left?”

he sighs before pulling some out of the cabinet. “only for you guys.”

you slide a bowl over to nagi and reo. you lean onto the counter awaiting their response, tapping your fingers in anticipation.

“so what's up with ya?”

“stop eating with your mouth full.”

“it's sae.” you frown taking a seat at the counter across from the two.

nagi perks up his head. “oh, so you finally confessed to him?"

you slam your head down onto the counter in frustration.

“i'm taking that as a no.”

you slightly raise your head up to make eye contact with the two. “what do i do? if i act on my feelings, rin will kill me! falling for his older brother is the ultimate betrayal.”

“i don't think you're betraying him, per se,” reo defends. “think of it more like bending the rules a bit!”

“i'm completely breaking the rules reo. the golden rule for that matter!” you argue.

“huh, well that's unfortunate.”

-

study sessions at rin’s was commonplace. having a terrible habit of bad time management and being a professional procrastinator, rin dragged you willingly forcefully to his house after school, to get all the studying done. but don't worry, it came with perks!

#1: free tutor

#2: free snacks

#3: getting an occasional glimpse of sae

"for english, there's a lot of words that have a silent-"

rin's words drown out as you begin daydreaming. losing complete track of rin's current lesson, you turn your head towards the backyard, where you see sae dribbling the ball outside. watching his figure run by every other second.

“you know if you’re gonna stare at my brother, can you at least do it when i’m not in the general vicinity?” rin deadpanned.

“i wasn’t oggling at sae,” raising up your arms in defense.

rin raised an eyebrow at your choice of words. “what was i talking about then?”

“uhm,” you ponder attempting to trace back your steps. crap. you were way too focused watching sae to even comprehend what rin was saying. the lesson is completely bleary in your mind.

“about our upcoming exam right!” rin lightly smacked your head with his notebook in response. you rub the area he hit before looking at him with a pout.

“wrong, i was talking about my upcoming game which you’re going to. right?” rin points his pencil at you accusingly.

“yup! wouldn’t miss it for the world!”

you nestle back into the couch trying to regain focus on the question in front of you. unfortunately, your mind began to wander elsewhere. every time you close your eyes to think of the solution of the equation, the image of sae would flash in your head.

first, you'd see his deep teal eyes, donned with his infamous bottom eyelashes. you swear you could get lost in them all day. next, the shaggy magenta hair that managed to look 100x better when styled down.

what were you doing? aren't you supposed to be studying?

you shut your textbook quickly, startling rin in the process.

“i’ll be back, i think i need a drink.” rin nods in response as you usher to the kitchen.

you sigh looking down at the glass of water, swishing it around. unaware, you turn without realizing there was someone in your pathway. colliding with a hard chest as the glass shatters to the kitchen floor.

you crossed your fingers hoping you didn't bump into last first person you wanted to see.

“woah careful.”

there stands itoshi sae. you notice his hair being slightly damp, presumably from the exercise drills he just completed. you snap out of it, realizing you were staring at him longer than necessary.

“shit, i’m sorry,” you bend down to pick up the broken glass, before you even get the chance to, sae gently swats your hand away.

“careful. don’t want you to hurt yourself,” your cheeks burn at the subtle contact.

he cranes his neck towards you, making eye contact. “it’s okay, i’ll clean it up myself.”

sae slips off his hoodie but not before you take a quick peek at his toned stomach.

you were definitely no better than a man the way you shamelessly watched him. he glances at you while raising an eyebrow before turning away to avoid eye contact once more.

“well, it was nice running into you! sorry about the glass, i have to go back to studying!” you hurry out of the kitchen before sae can even respond.

returning to the living room, rin is surprised to see you all flustered and sweaty. “what happened with you?”

“nothing!”

rin raises an eyebrow, not entirely convinced. unconcerned, he turns back to his notebook reviewing the material.

-

you swear itoshi sae is doing this on purpose.

every time you're over, you always find yourself in lucky terrible predicaments. last week, you wandered into a seemingly empty bathroom to be met with a shirtless sae. a single towel wrapped around his waist, leaving little to no imagination.

and what does he do?

he tilts his head at you and continues to brush his teeth, as if you were never there in the first place. when you return to rin’s room, even he's concerned that you might be coming down with a fever from how flushed you were.

just yesterday, you were aiming for a glass on the top shelf. before you knew it, sae was behind you pressing his chest onto your back. he was so close that you could feel the warmth emitting from him and the fresh, crisp scent of his cologne.

it was intoxicating.

nonchalantly, he reminded you to be careful next time as he handed you the glass and walked away. you were left blinking at the action.

itoshi sae was driving you crazy. scratch that, insane. you absolutely had no idea what to do about it.

you think it's absolutely infuriating how itoshi sae remains perfect and composed, sporting the same deadpanned look every time.

meanwhile, you're left a stuttering, blushing mess from each and every interaction. you swear you want to punch his face the next time. (you wouldn't dare to ruin his pretty face)

-

“hey, can you do me a huge favor?”

itoshi rin never asks for favors.

stunned, you continue to listen along, wondering what he has to say.

"you're not going to ask me to kill anyone are you? did isagi really piss you off that bad?"

rin flicks your forehead with irritation.

“sae’s down with a fever," he starts. "neither my mom or i are able to tend to his needs cause of our schedules. you don't have anything to do this afternoon right?”

you slowly nod.

“cool, all you have to do is serve him leftovers my mom left on the stove and make sure he takes his medicine. after that, you're free to go.”

-

you could not do this.

standing in front of the itoshi household suddenly felt foreign to you. a sense of dread washes over you at the thought of the current situation.

what's the worse that can happen being alone with sae?

you didn't want to give it a second thought.

after twenty minutes of back and forth, you managed to enter the kitchen to prepare sae's meal. it didn't take too long, it was a quick and simple task. though, you're unsure why you ended up missing the bowl once or twice, having to clean up the mess.

the tray settled on your hands became ten times heavier from the nerves coursing through your body. you make your way to second floor, your legs feel like jelly. you sure hope none of the sweat droplets from your forehead fell into the soup. mustering enough courage, you lift a hand to the door and softly knock.

“sae?”

there's a moment of silence.

“come in.”

you enter the older itoshi’s room. you watch as he slowly sits up. prominent bags under his eyes, a flushed face, and weak deameanor. not to mention, the complete lack of color from his face. this looked nothing like the sae you know.

"hey, how are you feeling?"

"like absolute shit." you chuckle from his remark.

"sorry that was a stupid question."

you make your way towards the side of his bed, tray still in hand. being extra careful to ensure the contents of the bowl don't spill.

"do you think you're able to eat?" you stretch out the tray as an offer.

"my throat is killing me but i'll just suck it up, i have to take medicine anyway."

you place the back of your hand to sae's forehead, eyes widening at the heat. his face was hot to the touch.

"yikes, you really are burning up."

all sae could do was nod weakly in response. a frown replaced your expression. seeing sae in such a state tugged at your heartstrings.

"i can feed you so you can save your energy?"

sae nods once again.

he hopes you mistake the flush of his face from being sick, not one of revealing his feelings.

carefully, you lightly blow onto the soup, gesturing sae to open his mouth. he complies, opening enough for you to slip the spoon in. soon enough, he finishes his meal. he takes his medicine shortly after.

"almost done! let me go get a new rag for your forehead and then i'll leave you to rest," you smile softly, turning to exist his room before he latches onto your wrist.

“wait, don't go.”

you whip your head back so fast you're sure you have whiplash. gently, sae pulls you towards him. all you can do is let him lead you closer and closer.

this was so unlike sae.

“stay with me? please.”

itoshi sae never pleads. who were you to deny such a request?

you pull up a chair from his desk and take place to the side of his bed once more. the two of you share a moment a silence, basking into the

“never knew you were the type to be so clingy,” you tease.

sae doesn't even have the energy to throw you one of his usual glares. instead, he grabs your hand once more bringing it up to his chest. shocked from the gesture, you attempt to bring your hand back towards you but to no avail. sae has other plans.

“what are you doing?”

“i'm showing you what you're doing to me.”

your eyes widen at the unexpected confession. you're sure your face is beet red. your heartbeat feels so loud you wouldn't be surprised if sae can hear the rhythm of your heart.

"wait, sae i can't! it's one of rin and i's rules."

he scoffs hearing the mention of the younger itoshi. he composes himself despite being sick to make his actions loud and clear.

“i don't care. rules were meant to be broken anyway.”

in a swift motion, sae drags you from previous seated position to under the covers with him. you gasp from the abrupt action. he buries his head into your neck, softly inhaling the scent of your perfume.

you comply as your hand makes it way to the top of his head. you scratch light shapes into his scalp earning a sigh of contentment from sae.

"if you get me sick, im going to kill you."

"yeah yeah."

guess his plan worked out after all.

-

bonus:

“huh? what pact?”

you gape at rin. surely, he didn't forget. right?

“the pact we made when we were 5? that pact? the best friend pact?”

all rin does is blink at you.

“doesn't ring a bell."

“you're joking right? please tell me you're joking.”

“i can assure you i'm not.”

you face palm before returning to meet rin’s eyes once more. “so, you really don't care that i'm dating sae?”

“oh that's great news actually, i was wondering when you'd finally make a move.” he shrugs.

“what? so you knew!”

“how could i not? you weren't exactly subtle about it.”

"so, you're not gonna kill me for dating sae?"

"no, i'm livid."

you can feel a sweat drop trickle down your forehead. rin releases a breath before speaking again.

"but, you seem happier with him. i guess. so, i don't really mind." rin ruffles the top of your head as you continue the way to your second home, the itoshi household.

☆.

a/n :: rin is a 10/10 best friend. i lowk hate the ending might revise at a later time </3

[spidermanifested]

heres MY rambly black sails analysis for the day, after watching the show twice in as many months i wholeheartedly believe in the "long john silvers quote unquote missus in treasure island is max, not madi" theory

the most obvious thing, as others have pointed out, is that in treasure island long john silver runs an inn with his wife, a black woman, in bristol, which is absolutely not madi behavior-- i cannot imagine madi would take him back in the first place much less move with him TO ENGLAND-- but IS maxs exact area of expertise. but theres so many other things that cement it for me

as early as episode 2, max tries to convince eleanor to buy out the inn and run it together with her when england takes nassau back. this is her dream-- to share power over her life with a woman she loves, free of the pressures of the outside world. (youll note this also happens to be silvers dream for himself and madi. the parallels)

in season 4 shes faced with the suspiciously similar option to take a husband to be the face of her business, completely on paper, for the sake of the public eye. and she refuses! she doesnt want to give a man that kind of power over her. not only that but she desperately wants to retain some kind of truth in her identity-- she admires anne for her honesty, her courage. these are things she can rarely afford to express. in refusing a marriage of convenience, she asserts her autonomy.

But. black sails tells us over and over again that an oppressive society will always find ways to batter down these private boundaries. there is no island safe from colonial rule. mirandas peaceful house in the interior is burnt to the ground. the maroons are forced to accept a freedom that comes at the price of abandoning those still enslaved and taking part in their continued subjugation. the things it takes to make these spaces are terrible, and unsustainable, and when it comes to being gay in the 1700s there is a tightrope to walk between privilege and privacy, one that destroyed flint and the hamiltons, thats even narrower to max as a self-made woman of color.

given all that, i do not believe she can girlboss her way out of her circumstances no matter how many lessons she took from what happened to eleanor. nor do i think the show believes it. i think the political-marriage-offer plot point is another illustration of that theme-- maxs desire, and silvers desire, to build a warm, happy room in the middle of the imperial machine, without meaningfully striking out against the machine itself, is destined to be futile no matter how strong they are as individuals.

max and silver are mirror images of one another. each of them is essentially the narrator of one half of the story. it is absolutely agonizing how BOTH of them tried to convince their lovers to abandon their ambitions, to settle for a quiet life with them, and in doing so saw that relationship destroyed by their own fear of an uncertain future....

....And its even MORE agonizing to imagine them finally securing the trappings of a domestic life... but without the love. and they know the love was what mattered! theyre always going to know!!!

it bookends PERFECTLY with their alliance at the start of the series. theyre right where they started, trusting no one, pretending to be humble and harmless, planning to steal the EXACT SAME TREASURE, except now theyre 50 years old and jaded and bitter and both pining after their lost loves. silver probably pictures madi whenever he tells people about his wife. when he and max have time to themselves they talk solely about finances and nothing else. its honestly impressive how miserable this is for every single person involved. im losing my mind

[criibibi]

Synopsis: After losing so much, Spider-woman learns to just keep moving. Only for her to end up somewhere far from home. Her first agenda is figuring out where she is, and how to get back. The only problem is that she ended up somewhere fictional (to her). Playing hero with Batman was not in her bingo cards this year. Hopefully she will be able to make it back home before she catches unwanted attention.

Masterlist: Prev; Next;

Chapter 2 - Spider Luck

Morning came quickly despite the shitty sleep you received that night. The constant tossing and turning, the constant fear and anxiety of getting caught or broken into, really you couldn’t catch a break. 

Despite that, you did get some sleep, even if the sum total was like three hours. Still, it’s not like the nightmares would have let you sleep regardless. All your failures would consume your thoughts and drown you, reminding you of your losses. 

Sure you moved on, but it’s not like you had forgotten. Uncle Ben’s wisdom, Aunt May’s lessons, and Peter Parker’s kindness. You vowed to honor and cherish those memories, but here you are, in another fucking world, with a high possibility of you breaking some laws just to get out.

Desperate people do crazy shit, and you aren’t that sane to begin with.

Luckily this motel has a shower and you plan to use it. Making sure to clean yourself with what you have (unfortunate) and pick up the necessities that you desperately need. 

Taking your time (since you paid for it) you get yourself ready, making sure your mask, gloves and (stolen) wallet are secured inside the hoodie’s pockets. Suite nice and tucked underneath the turtleneck and leggings. First order of business is shoes. Maybe that should have been your first mission yesterday- oops. 

You definitely should have followed the young spiderlings example and fight crime with shoes. Well if you ever meet them again, you will…

When you meet them again. You will. You have to. No matter the cost.

And then your stomach rumbled. “Great! Time for cheap food. Wonder if that knockoff Wack-Donld place is open. 

Oh that’s a nice plan. But you forgot one thing, genius. Where is it? How would you know where it is? You can’t even map it since you also don’t have a phone. 

About to unlock the door, you realized something. It already was unlocked… “Hmm…” Well, it was good that you webbed the door then.

“Fuck.” Leaving the motel keys at the front, you skedaddled your way back into the streets, looking for either a bodega or a shoe store. In order to keep yourself somewhat sane, you start softly humming music you recall Miles shared with you.

After some time of walking around aimlessly (you avoided asking others for directions, gods know gothamites unwritten rule is to mind your fucking business), you found a thrift store.

Guess what you realized while browsing for shoes. If you buy and fight crime with shoes, and (as of right now) are your only pair, you will get found out. So crocs it is!

Black ones, because white gets dirty too damn easily.

Finding your size and other clothing necessities, face-mask, a backpack and a portable sewing kit, you were good to go and all for a cheap price! God you love thrift stores. You used to go to as many and as often as you could with Peter. Ya had a bad spending habit and Peter certainly never discouraged you. He was your terrible financial buddy.

Not now! You can’t reminisce right now, not until you found a way home. Asking the cashier for directions while also subtly declining their phone number (your excuse is that your phone got stolen) you made it to a corner store. Hurray!

Making sure to stock up on snacks, since- let’s be real, this will be your food source for a while, (no income, remember, silly) you stand in line to pay before your spider sense goes off.

Behind you. There’s a man, hoodie on, looking down, covering their face, hands buried inside their pockets. You’re betting it’s either a gun or a knife. 

“Don’t move or I’ll shoot.” Oh, it’s a gun. How original.

The cashier seemed to clock in to what is occurring and subtly reaches under his counter. Not subtle enough because the man behind you yelled, pulling out his gun and pointing at the back of your head.

What the fuck spider luck.

You quickly assess your surroundings, making note that there is only one exit, two normal people not including you but including the gunman, and the room feels tight and too small to do anything.

Conclusion? You’re fucked. 

“I said don’t move, hands up! Give me the money, all of it!” From the corner of your eyes you can see just how fidgety this man was. Probably trigger happy if you do something stupid.

“He-hey man, I don’t got much in here.” The cashier had his hands in the air, trembling and freaking out. 

“I don’t care, give me the money! Yours too, bitch. Now!”

How rude. “Alright, I’m going to get my wallet. Don’t shoot.” You made slow movements of reaching into your pocket for the wallet.

“Hurry up! Both of you!” The thug yelled impatiently. You could practically feel how sweaty and anxious this guy is.

You watched the employee open up the cashier and take the money out. The assailant motioned for you to place your wallet on the counter, which you do and step to the side, getting out of his way. Just as he goes to grab the money you quickly grab the wrist with the gun and twist it, making sure he dropped it before smashing his head onto said counter, money flying everywhere. 

Both you and the cashier watched the assailant fall to the ground, nose bleeding and out cold. “Um,” The cashier looked at you, spooked. “I panicked.”

Hey look at that, no shots fired baby! Ya still got it! You are a pro-fess-io-nal~!

“Hey man, no-um no sweat. You saved me.” He replies with a tremble in his voice.

“Cool, cool, I also didn’t want to get shot. How much for my stuff?” You asked, picking up the money on the floor, handing it back while placing your snacks on the counter..

“What stuff? I see nothing. Just go. I already called the cops.” Oh, so he wasn’t reaching for a gun (corner stores usually have one under the counters) but a buzzer or something? Nice, cool, great.

“Thanks buddy!” Hey man, free food is a blessing. Picking up your wallet and bag of snacks, you step over the knocked out guy, (pick pocketing any cash he had on him,) picking up the gun with your sweater sleeve and placing it at the counter. “Here, for the cops.”

“Thanks so much, again for everything. Hey, can I get a name? For the next time you come and…buy stuff.” He shot his shot.

“I appreciate it man, but I don’t give out my name like that. You know?”

And he missed.

“Ye-yeah…” He looked like a kicked puppy.

Just as you stepped out you heard the sound of a motorcycle nearby and your senses went off again.

“Stop right there, not another step.” A third party voice joins the fray.

What the fuck, spider luck?!

Instantly you recognize the vigilante in front of you but regardless you are not taking any chances today. 

Taking a step back inside the store, making sure to close the door on the guy. “Um, hey not to alarm you or anything but there is a guy with a mask standing outside.” Bringing your hands up (again) you back away from the entrance, snack bag swinging around with your movements. 

The employee nods pulled out the pistol from the counter (what the fuck, why would you grab that with your fingers my dude?) and aimed.

Well at least he doesn’t hold grudges for being rejected.

The door swung open and there stood a masked vigilante, but a familiar bat symbol on his chest caught the employee’s attention.

“Oh thank god it’s not another one.” Putting the pistol again he sighed in relief.

“Ah!” The yellow vigilante turned his focus onto you, (who backed up so much you tripped over the k.o.ed dude, fucking embarrassing) hands still in the air and snacks littering the floor.

Some professional you are. Fuck you spider luck.

“I didn’t steal anything, I swear.” God, you're embarrassed and stressed.

The vigilante ponders for a few seconds, taking in the scenario, glancing at the employee who nods and turns his attention back. “Sorry about that. Here.” He extends a hand out towards you and to not be suspicious you hesitantly take it, your body tenses on instinct, pulling away immediately.

“Thank you.” you mumbled silently cringing at your embarrassment over spilled snacks.

“What happened?” He still faced you but you knew that question was for the other party member. And even if it was for you, you’re silent.

“That dude tried to rob us and they knocked him out. Oh,” The cashier looked at his hands. “This is his.” And placed the pistol on the counter.

This looks like the perfect time to poof away so you do. Right after you pick up your snacks. Signal sees this and silently aids you. “You both aren’t hurt, right? Need medical assistance?”

No you fucking don’t.

Holding out the bag as Signal placed the last snack in you as you shook your head. “I’m a-okay. Thank you though.” And you walk out for the second time. You could still feel his eyes on you until the door closes.

And guess who shows up.

The men in blue.

“Hold it right there.” Bro, you just want to be left alone, is that so much to ask? This time instead of bringing your hands up (for a third time), you instead clutch your bag to your chest, mask down and point inside, making sure your voice matches your facial expression.

“In there, he stopped him there.” meek, timid, nervous.

It seems to have worked as the pair of policemen entered the store and you didn’t think twice and booked it (in a non suspicious manner- if you run, they might chase). Passing by a yellow motorcycle you take a glance back and see the vigilante stepping outside the store, looking somewhat bothered in the presence of the authorities. 

Sucks to suck, bud, you know that feeling very well, not your problem anymore.

As if feeling your eyes on him he turns his face towards you, your eyes meeting a mask. Oh fuck! You felt your hair stand up. Holding his gaze for a few seconds before turning away (any other abrupt movement would definitely make you look suspicious) you continue on your way.

Forcing yourself to not tense up and fight the urge to shiver at his cold gaze you round the corner and you feel somewhat safer again. But it’s a false sense of security, because you know you’re slowly losing your mind.

Hopefully you won’t run into him or any of the other bats.

-

Duke Thomas was patrolling his territory, the Narrows, when he got a notification.

“Signal, there’s a robbing occurring five blocks from your location. The corner store Convenience. Know it?” Oracle’s voice spoke through the comms.

“I know my way. I’m checking it out now.”

“Checking the cameras- there are only three people inside. The assailant, a civilian, and an employee.”

“Got it-”

“Oh wait. Huh, well look at that.” Disbelief could be heard through the comms.

“What is it?” Did things escalate too fast?

“The civi knocked the guy out. Basically one move.” Color Oracle impressed.

“I’m here, anything else I should know about?”

“I’m scanning what I can see of their face, but I’m coming up blank. I’ll let you know if anything.”

Duke didn’t reply, instead as he pulled up he saw someone coming out of the store. “Stop right there, not another step.”

He watched the figure (gender unidentifiable with the oversized hoodie) freeze before making eye contact with him-er his visor. Despite the hood being down, he could not see their face completely with their mask, only their eyes and hair. Just a normal civilian, who apparently knocked out a guy with a gun.

Then silence and no movement.

Until the civilian backed away, closing the store door.

Stunned for a moment, Duke could hear Oracles snort through the comms. “Think they’re scared?”

“From what, me? They took down a guy with a guy and I scared them?” 

“Careful, gun pointed straight at you inside.” warned Oracle.

He moves towards the front door, pushing it open to see the civilian from earlier backing away still, hands up before turning his attention to the employee with a gun. “Oh thank god it’s not another one.”

“Ah!” A yelp caught his attention and it seems the civi tripped on the knocked out guy he just noticed. They immediately spoke, catching his eyes,“I didn’t steal anything, I swear.” 

Duke holds in a snort before glancing at the employee who nods in confirmation before he focuses on the fallen person. He calmly walks towards them, taking note of their discomfort and reaches his hand out. “Sorry about that. Here.” 

Despite his covered eyes somewhat obscuring his vision, he couldn’t will them away from this stranger’s visible face. 

Duke watched their hesitation but placed their hands in his, and he swore he felt a spark that sent shivers down his spine. How curious. He pulled them up, noting just how light they felt in his hold.

“Thank you.” Their voice was soft, but audible.

They quickly pulled their hand away, the warmth gone. His hand held its place for a couple of seconds before he let it fall to his side. “What happened?” He still faced the civilian, both unmoving. He already knew what occurred, Oracle told him everything, but he wanted to hear them talk more.

Only the employee replied. He took note of their lack of eye contact. 

“That dude tried to rob us and they knocked him out. Oh,” Duke glanced as the cashier placed the gun on the counter. He’ll leave that for the cops to pick up if they don’t get here before he leaves. “This is his.”

His attention is once again stolen as the civilian in front of him kneels to pick up their half empty bag. Standing above them, he notes the tips of their ears are red, how cute.

“You good there, romeo? You kinda have a staring problem.” Oracle’s voice snapped him out of his trance.

Duke cleared his mind (he hoped he didn’t look weird or creepy, yikes) before leaning down as well and helped pick up the tossed chip bags.

Though he did take his time, just to squeeze a bit more time with this civilian that he has yet to identify. “You both aren’t hurt, right? Need medical assistance?” He mostly directed this question to them than the cashier behind him. He wonders if Oracle figured out this civilian's name. 

Placing the last snack inside the plastic bag he watches them straighten up before shaking their head. “I’m a-okay. Thank you though.” His eyes couldn’t seem to leave their figure as he watched them walk out the door.

“Cops outside, Signal.” Oracle once again breaks his attention. 

“Got it.” Duke turns his attention to the guy on the floor, sitting him up as two officers enter the store. One takes the guy off his hands while the other questions the employee, taking the gun.

A slight restless feeling took over him and he made his way outside, the one carrying the passed out guy following. Duke quickly takes notice of eyes watching him and he turns to see the complete unmasked civilian from earlier. 

This time, he really felt like he had a staring problem. He drinks up their appearance like water. Their nose, lips, face shape, everything. He didn’t know how to explain it, but he really couldn’t look away this time. Everything around him suddenly felt silent. He felt his body shiver.

Such a pretty face, this civilian caught his breath regardless. He’s not one to lose himself by a pretty face but it seems this one was an exception. He felt mesmerized, entranced, and tongue-tied. Something about this person had a strong lock on him, and he couldn’t help but feel somewhat excited then put off. It felt like a very tight leash, and he doesn’t mind one bit.

Three seconds. Ever since he caught their gaze, they made eye-contact (despite him wearing a mask) before she looked away and left, turning the corner. (Their features look pretty feminine so he’s going with her). 

“Anything Oracle?” He mumbled, still a bit lost.

“No dice. How strange…”

Bummer. He mounts his ride and drives off to finish the rest of his patrol. He’s tempted to drive in the direction the civilian went to, but he wills himself to not do that. God it’s like he’s down bad. Really bad.

Hopefully he gets to see you soon, it seems you’re staying in the Narrows which increases his chances to see you. As much as he curses himself internally, he hopes he can save you next time something dangerous happens again.

Something formed in the pit of his stomach, and he doesn’t know if it’s desire or obsession.

Regardless, he embraces this feeling whole heartedly.

Prev; Next;

I struggled really hard, like REALLY hard. Duke is new to me (i only learned of him because of the webtoon) Now I'm reading issues he has been in and I don't know his character well but there is a SEVERE lack of Duke fics and I made it everyone's problem. So now he's down bad.

Updates are random and spars, no update schedule and don't plan to make one. This is my hobby not my obligation.

[glowettee]

I need help asap! So it’s exam season we all know and I keep on asking my teachers for a list of what I need for the test like a list to go home and study and they said no like what is their problem and I have no idea what to do😭please help Mindy not to sound desperate but your like my idol so you would know what to do right 😭

✧˖° my guide to studying when your teacher won’t give you a study guide

hi honey, i love you sooo much <3 thank you for your sweet wordsss, i'm alwaysss, alwaysss here for you, feel free to message me personally or give me more asks in my tumblr inbox! i'll even help with specific subjects.

okay, angel. first of all, i hear you. the frustration is real. teachers saying "just study everything :)" like we don’t have other classes, responsibilities, and, i don’t know, lives?? but listen. this is not a dead end. this is just an opportunity to prove that you can outsmart the system and study better than they ever expected. you’re not desperate, you’re strategic. and i have a plan for you.

step 1: reverse-engineer the test ✧˖°

if they won’t tell you, we’ll figure it out ourselves. here’s how:

➼ look at past tests & quizzes: what kind of questions do they ask? multiple choice? short answer? do they repeat topics? most teachers have a pattern. find it. ➼ scan your syllabus: even if it’s vague, the syllabus outlines what the class prioritizes. highlight major units or chapters. ➼ revisit homework & classwork: if they spent three days drilling a topic, assume it’s important. if a concept was barely mentioned, it’s probably not a focus. ➼ check online study guides: sometimes other students post study guides for similar classes online. search your course name + study guide. you might get lucky.

step 2: ask strategic questions ✧˖°

okay, so they won’t give you a study guide. but what if they accidentally reveal what’s on the test through very calculated questions?

instead of "what’s on the test?", try: ➼ "Would you say Unit 3 is as important as Unit 4?" (forces them to compare importance) ➼ "Should I focus more on definitions or application-based questions?" (gives insight into question type) ➼ "Would it be smart to review [insert topic] in detail?" (watch their reaction, they might hint at its relevance) ➼ "Is there anything I should specifically know how to apply?" (if they hesitate, it’s probably a big exam topic)

play it cool. teachers love acting like they’re withholding top-secret info, but they also love hearing themselves talk. guide the conversation and let them give things away.

step 3: crowdsource the study guide ✧˖°

if your teacher won’t make one, you will!! but you won’t do it alone.

➼ group chat strategy: text your smartest classmates and propose making a study doc together. ➼ class notes audit: everyone checks their notes for key topics they remember being emphasized. ➼ compare tests from other classes: if another teacher teaches the same course, their students might have hints.

you’re basically forming an underground academic intelligence network. the government should honestly hire you.

step 4: predict the questions ✧˖°

teachers aren’t as unpredictable as they think. most reuse question styles from past years. so let’s outthink them.

➼ scan the textbook’s review questions – many teachers pull questions straight from these. ➼ turn subheadings into questions – if a textbook section is called “Causes of the French Revolution,” turn it into: “What were the causes of the French Revolution?”➼ spot repeated terms – if a word/concept appears in your notes/textbook over and over, bet money it’s on the test.

step 5: prioritize the 80/20 rule ✧˖°

80% of the test will come from 20% of the material. instead of trying to memorize everything, (i'm guilty of this) target the most testable topics.

➼ concepts that connect to multiple lessons = high priority ➼ big themes or formulas your teacher emphasized = high priority ➼ random minor details with no context = low priority

this is how you actutallyyyy study smarter, not harder.

step 6: try active recall ✧˖°

highlighting? rereading? sweetie, no. your brain needs active studying. i know you've probably heard this in every 'study' video, blog, article etc, etc.. however, this really works. even when i create my own study methods it all connects to active recall <3

➼ flashcards, but reverse: instead of term → definition, write the definition and force yourself to recall the term. ➼ blurting technique: grab a blank sheet and dump everything you remember. then check what you missed. ➼ teach it to an imaginary class: if you can explain it, you actually understand it.

these methods force your brain to retrieve info, which is the key to remembering it under stress.

step 7: adapt your study style to the test format ✧˖°

different tests require different study techniques.

➼ multiple choice: focus on eliminating wrong answers. make “why is this wrong?” your key question. ➼ short answer: practice summarizing concepts in 1-2 sentences! brevity matters. ➼ essay tests: prep key arguments and supporting facts in advance. don’t memorize full essays. memorize structured points.

step 8: last-minute study hacks ✧˖°

running out of time? try these:

➼ listen to a recording of key concepts before bed, your brain absorbs info in your sleep. ➼ write down the toughest concepts before the test. dumping info on a paper beforehand eases recall under pressure. ➼ do a “cheat sheet” exercise. write what you would bring as a cheat sheet (but don’t actually bring it). the act of writing it out solidifies memory.

🖇 mindy’s personal tips ✧˖°

✨ don’t panic. adapt. undetermined students say, “i can’t.” A+ students say, “how can i?” you are an A+ student.✨ treat it like a game. teachers want to gatekeep? fine. you’ll outsmart them instead. ✨ trust your brain. if you’ve prepped strategically, you will recall what you need. confidence is half the battle.

📝 homework: apply these NOW ✧˖°

i loveeee giving you all homework! i made a little checklist for you to start right now <3

☐ start a study guide (even if it’s just bullet points) ☐ test out the “strategic question” technique with your teacher ☐ identify three high-priority topics to focus on tonight ☐ practice active recall (explain a concept to yourself out loud) ☐ reply below or message me: what’s your biggest exam struggle?

final note: you are not helpless. you are not at the mercy of your teacher’s vague instructions. you are capable, smart, and strategic. you’ve got this. and i’ve got you. i know you will do well on your exams, just belive in yourself and all that matters is if you pass, you don't need a 100/100 on your exam to be an A+ student. just trust yourself <3

💌 now go ace that test! <3 ilyy

xoxo mindy

[kumkaniudaku]

Had Me At Hello

Summary: Terry and Patrice meet for the first time.

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!OC

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: None

Francis Edwards High School was a pristine, two-story jungle filled with Cumberland County's most gifted teenagers. From the first bell at 7 AM until the final ding at 2:30 PM, impenetrable cliques and established hierarchies ruled the hallways, classrooms, and bustling cafeteria, turning the already daunting task of making friends into a nearly impossible uphill battle.

A new school year was nothing more than a formality for returning students. Friend groups were locked in. Moving up and down the sacred social ladder was a tall task many dared not undertake. Seniors looking to make a name for themselves before walking across the stage concocted grand plans to achieve legendary status. Incoming freshmen were given the golden opportunity to shed their image from middle school and step into brand new skin if they were lucky. 

By mid-October of his freshman year, Terrence Richmond felt like he'd cracked high school's code. A massive growth spurt throughout eighth grade shot him up from a slight 5'7" to a respectable 5'11", aiding his first-string wide receiver campaign. Sure, he was brand new to the team and coming behind an all-state senior plus two juniors making waves in their own right, but stranger things had happened. One twisted ankle or subpar progress report, and he'd be well on the way to becoming the big man on campus.

While student-athletes gathered to work through math problems and critical thinking questions in factions during study hall, Terrence used his binder to deflect jagged paper balls aimed at his forehead from his teammate and lifting buddy, Robert.

"Bro, chill," Terrence laughed before chucking the piece of trash back in Robert's direction. "I'm trying to do my homework. You should be, too, by the way!"

Robert turned his nose up and scoffed. "Why? Get somebody to do it for you." He gestured toward a library full of students, then looked back at Terrence. "Pick somebody. Shit, ask one of your teachers. You on the football team. Your job is to play football." 

"Yeah, okay," Terrence scoffed. "Try tellin' my mama that. If she found out I had people doin' my work, she'd kick my ass. Then tell my daddy, and they would kick my ass together." 

"At least you got a dad. I'm still waiting on mine to get back from the store. It must take a long time to get cigarettes." 

Their goofy, loud laughter eclipsed a spirited conversation between the senior defensive core, earning attention neither of them cared to have. 

While being on the team shielded Terrence from the dog-eat-dog world of high school civilian life, it wasn't enough to escape the internal politics governing a rowdy bunch of teenage boys. 

The pecking order was clear and meant to go unchallenged. Seniors commanded starting roles, leaving everyone else to fight for crumbs until their time came to rise up the ranks. Most underclassmen accepted the natural order of things. Eventually, an opportunity would arise, and they'd run with it. But Terrence didn't have time to wait. Four years wasn't long enough to play safe. He had his sights set on NFL glory. And, while his coaches found his ambition honorable, young men three years his senior considered Terrence a threat to stability. 

Scowling, the starting defensive back directed his ire toward Terrence and Robert. "Fuck is so funny?" 

“Nothin’!” Robert's quick response made Terrence roll his eyes. Robert's deer-caught-in-headlights gaze darted back to his friend, softening his brown eyes into apologetic saucers. He mumbled a timid, "Sorry." as an apology.

For Terrence, backing down wasn't an option. Even if it was, he couldn't imagine a universe in which his father's stern lesson about standing up for yourself wouldn't haunt him for all eternity.��

He shrugged as cooly as he could as he leaned back in his chair. "Homework, Drew. You wanna talk about your's too, since you still in ninth- grade algebra with us? Let us help you, bro. We a team." 

Raucous laughter at his expense made Drew shrink back in embarrassment. His intelligence, or lack thereof, wasn't a secret, but it also wasn't a line anyone dared cross. Unfortunately for him, Terrence had no reverence for tired rules.  

Anger turned Drew's ears and nose red as he considered turning a light spat into a physical altercation. Terrence sat up straight to answer his adversary's unspoken challenge, narrowing his lids into slits and tightening his jaw repeatedly. His fists sat balled in his lap, clenching and unclenching in preparation. If things took a turn for the worst, his readiness was paramount. What he lacked in size, he could make up in speed. Either that or he'd have to deal with his father when all was said and done. He chose to take his chances. 

Sensing a fight on the other side of harmless jokes, one of the senior linemen with a soft spot for Terrence's fearlessness stepped in. 

"Alright, D, he busted yo ass. Let it go, man." Demarcus laughed before gripping his friend's shoulder to push him back into his seat. "Aye, Terry, you gotta chill. You a freshman. Be cool sometimes." 

"It's Terrence. Not Terry." 

Demarcus waved off Terrence's correction. "It's Terry, nigga. We already got a Terrence," he mentioned, pointing to a junior safety at the far end of the table. "Now, if y'all wanna fight about it, we can set something up after practice." Terrence eyed his older namesake, sizing him up before making a business decision. His father also taught him to pick his battles wisely. Demarcus took Terry's silence as an answer and continued. "Exactly. Now, move yo skinny ass out the way so we can see ol' girl behind you."

Catcalls and lewd whistling rippled around three tables pushed together to make one as young men coursing with raging hormones leaned over to get a glimpse of the new girl. 

Long-legged and umber-skinned, she stood out in a room full of semi-familiar faces. Everyone at Francis attended school together at some point. Schoolyard bonds followed most students from pre-k to graduation, turning each schoolyear into a reunion of sorts. She, however, was different, fresh, and mysterious. 

Dark brown pressed hair pulled into a low ponytail showed off high cheekbones and piercing eyes. Plump lips drooping into a slight frown told anyone wondering she wasn't interested in too many long conversations. A thin frame sporting naturally lean muscle might trick a less perceptive person into believing she was an athlete. The handwritten 'Francis Edwards Book Club' sign hanging crooked behind her head told a different story. She was a serious scholar with little time for public school games. 

"Damn! She gotta be from outta town." One player commented after blowing the girl a kiss and receiving an annoyed eye roll in return.

Another boy added his two cents to the mix. "I heard she transferred from some private school. Catholic girl or something like that." 

"You know how the Catholic school girls get down. Straight nasty."

Crass comments, growing increasingly inappropriate, turned into nothing more than background chatter while Terry stared at the only person worth existing as far as he was concerned. 

Patrice Ellis. He'd seen the back of her head in one of his classes, not knowing the beauty hidden on the other side. She always smelled like the cocoa butter his mom used to keep his baby sisters moisturized. In class, she was quiet and observant. He liked hearing her answer questions and sometimes jotted her responses as notes in case they were hit with a pop quiz or he needed a reminder during his study time. 

Seeing Patrice quietly adjust stacks of paper while waiting for anyone to interact with her table nearly stole all of the air from Terry's lungs. He couldn't look away. He didn't want to look away. She had his undivided attention.

Until a grating voice spouting crude nonsense forced him to rejoin the conversation. 

"Bet $15 I can't take her down before Christmas break." 

Demarcus extended his arm toward Drew for a handshake agreement, a disbelieving look settling on his face. "I'll bet you $20 you won't go over there and talk to her right now." 

"Who won't? Man, stop playing with me!" 

"Do it then!" 

Terry's eyes darted between the two seniors, syncing to his rising heartbeat. Everything in him wanted to stay out of their antics. He begged his legs to stop bouncing, trying to negotiate with his brain to let go of the stupid idea it'd concocted. Mind your business. Make a good impression. Don't step on any toes. Sit down, Terry.

A hush fell over the group while they watched everyone's favorite mouthy frosh jam books and papers into his backpack before taking long strides toward the neatly decorated folding table by the library's entrance. 

Patrice noticed his lanky body standing out in the crowd like a car wash inflatable with adorable curls forming a dense afro. His eyes, beautiful round orbs of sea green and honey, bore into hers like he owed her a tongue-lashing for something she couldn't remember. They sat near each other in third-period algebra. Maybe her constant pencil tapping was more of a distraction than she thought. 

Then he smiled. Full lips beneath a wispy mustache smoothly slid into a bright, teeth-baring grin to show off all his pearly whites. His nose scrunched, and his eyes crinkled on the side, betraying the intensity he'd displayed only seconds prior. 

Breathtaking. Patrice rushed to busy her mind and hands, hoping his attention-stealing grin was meant for someone she couldn't see and that he'd stroll right past her into the hallway. 

A shadow the size of a beanstalk appeared over her navy blue tablecloth and spoke to her in a soft, small voice. "Are y'all still accepting sign-ups?" 

Most of what he said was lost in the chaos of students transitioning out of the room for their respective sports obligations, forcing Patrice to finally look up. Terry stood before her, still smiling, his eyes expectant and curious as he looked down at her. 

"I'm sorry, you have to speak up. I didn't…I didn't hear what you said."

"Oh. I-" Terry stopped short to clear his throat. "I just asked if y'all were still accepting sign-ups. Because I'd like to, um, join…if I can. Are you in the club?"

"Wouldn't be sitting here if I wasn't." 

Terry nervously adjusted his heavy bookbag on his arm. "Right. My bad." He pointed at the sign-up sheet. "Can I?"

Patrice cocked her head to one side. "You sure? I figure you'd wanna join math club since you're so good at it. Or literally anything else. Didn't think you were the reading type." 

"What's that supposed to mean?" Terry watched Patrice pluck a pen from her advisor's mug and slide it across the table to him. When she didn't answer, he pressed again. "Why'd you say that?" 

"Say what?" 

He bent over to scribble his last name into the appropriate box. "That you didn't think I'd be the reading type. Why?" 

"Because you hang around a bunch of idiots," Patrice sassed as she nodded behind him to a table of boys jeering in the background. 

Terry tried to contain his smile at how adult she was despite not looking much older than his fourteen years, instead fighting to keep his brow furrowed in feigned confusion. "What does that have to do with me, though? You think I'm an idiot?" 

"Birds of a feather flock together. I've heard some things." 

Stories of hazel eyes and broad shoulders kept young girls from 9th to 12th-grade giggling amongst themselves whenever news got around that Terry was in the vicinity. He took the ogling in stride with the guys, sending diplomatic waves to googly-eyed young women like the second coming of President Obama. But, privately, the new attention overwhelmed him. He wasn't sure how to exist in his body or navigate the sudden drop in his voice. 

Patrice only knew unconfirmed rumor mill pieces of information. Terry was dating multiple girls in the ninth grade. Terry had a girlfriend at a school across town. Terry was an asshole. Terry this, Terry that. She couldn't keep up and preferred to steer clear of this Terry character. Still, there he was, standing in front of her and expecting an explanation for an offhanded comment she desperately wanted to move past. 

"You shouldn't judge a book by its cover. Nobody ever told you that?" Terry's eyes flickered up to Patrice's to find her making a face as she rolled her eyes. 

She kissed her teeth. "Yeah, they did, and it's stupid. How else will I decide to pick a book if I don't judge its cover first?"

"Okay, well, what if I judged you?" He paused to make space for Patrice's rebuttal, but one never came. He continued. "In class, you don't talk and scrunch your face up at everybody. You bring your lunch to school instead of goin' through the line like the rest of us and rush down the hallway like you're late for something every day. What if I said you thought you were better than us because you came from private school?" 

"You'd be wrong. I just… haven't been able to fit in yet," Patrice countered. "And who told you I came from a private school?"

Terry chuckled. "I'm judging you by your cover. And the St. Pius pin you keep on your backpack." He pointed toward the white and gold crest pinned to the left strap of her orange Jansport, then gave her a sympathetic smile. "You miss your friends. I get it. I would, too. But, if you wanna make some new ones that aren't teachers, you can't be so mean all the time." 

"You don't know me," she countered in defiance. 

"I want to." 

Terry didn't know what made him make such a bold declaration. He wasn't usually so forward or willing to converse with strangers. This stranger, in all her beauty and endearing sass, was different. She'd drawn him in with little more than a slight scowl, which he knew was only a defense mechanism to ward off unserious would-be suitors. He wasn't them, though. He never said anything he didn't mean. 

Capping the pen, Terry smiled, handed Patrice her utensil, and slid the paper back to her. "I'm Terrence, by the way. Or Terry. Either works." 

"Which one do you prefer?" 

"Um, Terrence…I think." 

She smiled, finally showing her teeth, before giggling. "You think? Which name do you like more?" 

"Terrence," he answered as he returned her smile. "Call me Terrence." 

"Okay, Terrence." Terrence. Patrice wanted to repeat his name again and again to feel the easy cadence roll of her tongue. Instead, she extended her hand for him to grab and shake. Terry gently took hold of her fingers, forgetting to finish the process until Patrice initiated it for him. "Welcome to the club. I'm –" 

He cut her off, still holding on long after they'd completed the simple formality. "Patrice. I know. Nice to meet you." Slowly, he released her hand, immediately creating a void she wished he'd fill again. A short laugh escaped past Terry's lips before he adjusted his backpack again and prepared to walk away. "Guess I'll see you during free block next Wednesday? Maybe you can get to know me for yourself instead of making all those assumptions." 

"Yeah. Maybe." 

A final once-over helped Terry and Patrice commit each other's faces to memory before Terry backed his way out of the library and temporarily out of her life. 

As easily as her new connection's effortless cool calmed heightened anxiety, his associated band of buffoons infiltrated her serene bubble with their unique brand of foolish behavior. They filed out of the library one by one, some making faces and a few more spouting garbage in passing. Idiots, just as she thought.

When they were out of dodge, and the library was back to the quiet, safe haven she loved, Patrice looked back down at the sheet of paper with one name neatly written in slender, slanted print. Her index finger traced each letter as she tried to relive the smile and soft voice attached to the name she'd never forget. 

Terrence Richmond. A beautiful cover to a book she hoped to read from front to back one day.

--------

Reply if you'd like to be tagged in future work!

TAGS: @planetblaque @wvsspoppin @thatone-girly @avoidthings @slutsareteacherstoo @eilujion @amyhennessyhouse @yaachtynoboat711 @jenlovey @pinkpantheris @blowmymbackout @onherereading @becauseimswagman1 @thiccc-c @hrlzy @urfavblackbimbo @blackburnbook @ashanti-notthesinger @xo-goldengirl @ariiijestertheklown @blyffe @tvchi @wabi-sabi1090 @blackmoonchilee @flydotty @aldrigmer444 @ash-ketchumzzz @nayaesworld @ms-mosley-ifunastyyy @writingsbytee @teddybeerz @trippyscotch @theogbadbitch @ghostfacekill-monger @nyifly22

[latenightdaydreams]

Eldritch!König X Princess! Reader

The reader is a stubborn princess with a childish personality, she is considered a treasure by the king, loved and pampered, however because she was imprisoned in the castle for too long and learned too many royal rules and rituals, she decided to escape to leave the castle and on her journey of discovery, she accidentally strayed into the forbidden sea of the kingdom... if you don't mind, there is rape

thank you for doing my previous requests,i always follow your posts everyday,i love the way you write your fanfics,by the way,can you post your fanfics at 6am or 6pm?the time hook in asia and other continents are different,so it will be difficult to adjust the time to receive your post notifications,thanks!!!🥰😍🫂🤲😗😙

Of course! I've been trying to post later after reading this and I appreciate your recommendation!

Eldritch!König x Princess (fem)

MDNI🔞

🚫!Trigger Warning!🚫

Master List✍🏽

>cw: fem/afab, creature, tentacles, non-con, virginity loss

1.6k word count

👸

.

.

Being the eldest daughter to the King means a lot of responsibilities are placed on your shoulders, one day this will all be yours. The sad thing is that you want none of it. You’d love to be free, like the children in the town outside the castle walls.

Every day is consumed with boring lessons and practice. While your body may be here, your mind wanders often to what lies beyond your gilded cage. The King is a kind but overprotective man. He tells you continuously about a scary world filled with evil, yet all you can find is magic in the stories you’re told.

Today is like every other day. While sitting at the piano, you mindlessly press on keys as you stare out the open windows. It is a beautiful and bright day; the sound of the birds carrying through the light breeze makes you crave only a moment outside. You smash your hands down on the keys with annoyance. It’s as if the world is teasing you.

The staff around looks at your out the corner of their eyes, rolling them. You often act out as if you’re a child, yet you’re in your twenties already. What more should they expect from such a spoiled brat? They fear the day your queen; you’re nowhere near ready for that type of responsibilities.

Lucky for them, they won’t have to worry about that. You don’t plan on being here for much longer. Over the last few months, you’ve been putting together an escape plan. Armed with the knowledge of lore spoken and countless hours of studying; you’re ready to make a new path for yourself. The thought of being a Queen has never appealed to you, you’ve always dreamed of living like a daring adventurer. Someone not bound to the confines of their overbearing parents.

You wander down into the kitchen to see a room of busy bee workers preparing dinner. Some look at you, but choose to ignore you as to not get wrapped up into any of your wild antics. Walking over to a bowls of freshly picked blueberries, you grab a handful and twirls innocently towards the door. As you scan the room, you notice that no one is looking at you. Perfect.

The door opens with a bit of weight applied. You quickly slip out the door without anyone noticing. The kitchen faces the woods; with only a bag with money and some food you begin your new journey.

Your feet carry you eagerly through the brush and into the woods; your escape is almost too easy. For a moment you turn to look at the castle for one last time, letting yourself commit the view to memory. You don’t know when you’ll be back again and it’s bitter sweet. Once you feel as if you’re ready to move on, you turn with no intentions of running back a scared little girl.

Hours of walking tire you quickly. You never figured that the ground might be difficult to walk on, meaning you haven’t made it as far as you planned to before sun down. Off in the distance you can hear the sound of waves crashing, piquing your interest. All these years and you’ve never seen the ocean before, it’s always been a dream.

The sun setting causes a stunning golden hue to cover the water, making it feel as if you’ve just stumbled into heaven on earth. You quickly remove your shoes, eager to feel the sand between your toes. As you rush forward, the warm sand is relaxing. The small worry that lingered in the back of your mind is completely forgotten as you become entranced by the crashing waves.

You approach the shore line allowing the cool water to wash over your feet. It’s such a welcoming feeling, it’s impossible to believe that your father said this world is evil. How can it be evil when such beauty exists? You sit, your dress gets wet but you don’t care. Minutes pass as the sun continues to set. Out of the corner of your eye, you see something poke out of the water.

König sees you; you’re new. His eyes drift over the royal purple dress that you’re wearing. A princess? In this part of the world? How did you ever get here? Either way, he wasn’t going to complain. It’s as if the universe just hand delivered a new toy to him. He watches you curiously as you simply…enjoy the view.

You lay back, closing your eyes with a big smile on your face. Day one of freedom and you’re already confident that you’ve made the right decision. Then, you feel the presence of something- someone- approaching you. When you open your eyes, you see a large man looking down at you. His eyes a pale blue, body nude other than a piece of fabric covering his face. From underneath the fabric, eight large purple toned tentacles move about.

There is a moment of just staring at him with a slack jaw. He’s a massive eight feet tall, making the way he looms over your much smaller body that much more intimidating. You watch as his eyes trail over your dress; he somehow makes you feel exposed while fully clothed.

“Hello…” You speak in a timid tone.

“Hallo…Prinzessin.” His voice is low and gravely.

“Y- you know who I am?”

“Ja. You’re Princess y/n.” He begins to walk around you, inspecting you.

“I am…who are you?”

“König. You’ve wandered into my kingdom, Prinzessin. Did you know that?” He kneels and looks into your eyes as you sit up, feeling uncomfortable with him. “People don’t usually come here.”

“Why?” Your voice shakes slightly.

“Because of me.”

For a moment you linger, staring up at him. Your stomach churns and you feel sick. He smells of the ocean and it’s very unpleasant. The alarm going off in your line is telling you to get up and run; that you’re in danger. You decide to try and just push that feeling down.

“Wh- why is that?”

König can smell the fear emanating off of you. A small band of sweat forms around your hairline from the warm day and the heavy dress overheating your body. A small drop drips down the side of your face, traveling over your delicate features.

“You’re wearing far too many layers.” One of his thick tentacles slowly wraps around your ankle, slipping up underneath the hem of your long dress.

That is what triggers panic within you. You quickly jump up, but his tentacle tightens its grip and pulls you back down. Your face smashes into the sand, cutting your lip from the impact. The sand slips through your fingers as you grab at it, trying to get away.

König grabs your arms and turns you around, laying you on your back. As you sit up to hit him, he grabs your arms and slams you back down. A loud laugh leaves him, he wasn’t expecting such a delicate little thing to be so feisty.

“Where do you think you’re off to? You’re in my world now, Prinzessin.”

“Get off of me!” You scream.

“I’ve been looking for a queen. A warm body for my offspring to grow in.”

König’s slimy tentacles come up and wrap around your wrist, pinning you to the ground as you squirm. His massive weight rests on your legs as he begins to slip the fabric that covers you up, exposing a sweet little bush covering your precious center. A low hum rumbles from his chest as his pale eyes meet yours.

The stomach churning feeling of his appendages slithering up your leg makes you jerk to the side but you can’t move. König is much bigger and much stronger than you; it would be a useless waste of energy. You can feel the tip slip back and forth, parting your folds.

“You can’t do this to me! I’m the princess!”

“You’re no one here.”

König shuts you up with a hand over your mouth as his tentacles move to hold you down and your legs apart for him. Tears stream down your face as you realize that no matter how much you scream, there is no one here that can help you. His unsettling gaze lingers on yours as he moves his erection closer to you.

Your muffled cries are drowned out but the loud sound of König’s moan as he presses the tip of his leaking cock against your pure cunt. A virgin princess, exactly what the king deserves. A stinging pain travels throughout your body as he struggles to press his girthy 13 inch cock into you.  

“Mein Gott, you’re so small. I’m going to break you.” He chuckles as his hips buck forward.

The walls of your vagina feel gummy as they wrap tightly around him. You’re like the perfect little glove, little sex toy for him. He pulls his hips back and repeatedly continues the assault on your defenseless smaller body. Unable to do anything, you just lie there and take it.

“Does daddy know where you are?” He mocks in a low gruff voice as he thrust at a merciless speed, not allowing you to catch your breath.

“M-mm” You mumble and shake your head, his hands still on your mouth not allowing you to speak.

“Stupid…little…brat.” König manages the words between each thrust. His hands move to your legs, pulling them back so he can angle himself deeper into you, trying to shove more of himself into you. Your pained pathetic mewls boom out across the empty beach.

Back at the castle there is panic after hours without any sight of you. Your father went to your room to see a note placed on your bed. In a hurry he reads it, tears streaming down his face as he reads your final goodbye to him. He is torn between sending every knight to find you and just leaving you to be the woman you’ve dreamt of becoming. Little does he know you’ve only doomed yourself to the life of being bred.

[mysteryshoptls]

SSR Jack Howl - Room Relaxation Vignette

"Happy Birthday"

[Sports Field]

[tup, tup, tup]

Jack: Pant, pant… I could really feel the burn on those last 20 meters.

Jack: What's my time…? Oh, not bad. I'll have to remember this feeling for next time. Alright, guess it's time to stretch and head back to the dorm.

Riddle: Are you doing solo practice after your club activities once again? You sure are diligent, Jack.

Jack: Oh, Riddle-senpai. When you say "again" like that… did you already know that I always stay behind longer?

Riddle: Well, when the Equestrian Club ends our activities for the day and leave the stable for our respective dormitories, we do pass by the field.

Riddle: I've spotted you running by yourself many times before. Are you training for a meet of some kind?

Jack: Ah, actually, recently my times have been fairly stagnant, so I've been trying to adjust my running form.

Jack: Nothing I was doing was really working… But I think I've really started to figure out what I need.

Jack: For now, I plan on heading back to my dorm and, starting tomorrow, I'll focus on working on my newest running posture.

Riddle: A good decision. It would not do for you to injure yourself by overworking.

Riddle: Besides, a student's priority should be their studies. Passion is well and good, however you would do well to not neglect your studies.

Jack: No need to tell me twice. I don't plan on neglecting my practice nor my studies whatsoever.

Jack: I made it here to Night Raven College, after all. I'll put forth even more effort so I can achieve even more.

Jack: Even if it's the day before my birthday, I'll have to continue doing my best… No, I'll have to do even better than my best.

Riddle: Oh, is your birthday tomorrow?

Riddle: Then I'm sure there's much for you to prepare. It would be rude of me to continue to keep you, so I'll leave you now.

[Riddle walks off]

Jack: Eh…? Oh, sure. Thank you, Riddle-senpai.

Jack: …Did I just say out loud that it's my birthday tomorrow? I hope he doesn't think I'm excited about it, or anything…

Jack: Ughhhh. Nah, it's no good worrying about something that's already done! Time to stretch!

[Savanaclaw Dorm – Jack's Room]

Jack: Whew… I feel much better after a shower. Guess it's time to finally get to my homework.

[Savanaclaw Dorm – Jack's Room]

Jack: Guess that's enough of reviewing today's lessons. I gotta put my homework in my bag before I forget, too…

[Roommate A speaks up]

Jack: … Huh? You wanna copy my homework before I put it away? I didn't work on it to help you guys out, why would I show it to you, anyway?

[Roommate B talks back]

Jack: You don't know the answers? Well, that's your fault for not listening during class. Don't come begging me for scraps.

Jack: Ugh, look at 'em, all grumbling over something stupid. Anyway… I guess I just have "that" left to deal with before going to bed.

「Survey on Quality of Life Improvements for the Student Body」

Jack: So they're looking for campus life improvements, huh. Well, there's the fact that some can be irritating just because they're a year or two older…

Jack: But it's not like the academy can really do anything to help improve personal problems. So, I guess…

Jack: I know I'd like it if they could do something about the rule that freshmen must live 4 to a room.

Jack: It's stressful enough having to share a small room with someone else, let alone 3 other people.

Jack: I can't wait for next year. Sophomores live 2 to a room, so it should be way better than right now.

Jack: There'll be more space in the room then… And I'll be able to find more sunlight for my cacti as well.

Jack: Even though I was able to beat the others to the spot that would provide the most light back when I first got here…

Jack: It's still not enough. Compared to the rooms reserved for the upperclassmen, it's still not as bright here, so I have to take extra care of the little guys.

Jack: Cacti are just like humans in that they don't do well if they don't get enough sunlight.

Jack: …That reminds me of back home for some reason. When winter comes, I always see people here and there sunbathing.

Jack: As a kid, I thought they were just lazy, and couldn't figure out why they'd want to just lounge out under the sun…

Jack: When I learned that there were health-related reasons behind it, I was both surprised and impressed.

Jack: It's not like I've been lacking any chances to be out under the sun ever since I've come to Sage's Island…

Jack: But if I could have a room big enough to roll out a rug, it might not be so bad to lay out and sunbathe on it a bit.

Jack: Alright… I've finished filling out the survey, so I guess it's time to sleep.

[roommates chattering]

Jack: Hey! You guys are being way too loud. How long're you gonna be at it?

Jack: You all better go to sleep right at lights out tonight… 10PM is bedtime! Don't keep me awake!

Jack: …Yeah, like those guys'll listen to what I say.

Jack: I should go back to the survey and ask for a canopy bed… Or maybe a partition.

Jack: Sleep is important for me to build my muscles… So I can't have them keeping me up… Yaaawn…

[Savanaclaw Dorm – Jack's Room]

[alarm blaring]

Jack: …Mm, is it morning already? Welp, then. First things first after waking up…

Jack: There's no question about it. TIME TO REPLENISH QUICKLY WITH SOME PROTEIN!!

Jack: I need to gain back all the nutrients I lost while sleeping. I'll swing by the kitchen for a protein drink and then head towards the washroom.

[Savanaclaw Dorm – Washroom]

[splash, splash]

Jack: Whew… No one's awake at this time, so it's nice and quiet here.

Jack: …Man, no matter how I look at it, my hair is tousled into a real mess. This happens every morning, sure, but…

Jack: Since I have thicker hair, it's so hard to tame the bedhead. Ah, tsk, there's even some pillow marks on my ears.

Jack: Well, I guess I'll just start with wetting the roots of my hair and then use the dryer while pulling the strands back…

[blow-dries hair]

Jack: Once the unruly strands are tamed, I'll comb it… Good, it's more or less better now. If I don't do this first, it ends up taking longer in the end.

Jack: I've tried a bunch of different hair products, but I ended up liking this wax the best.

Jack: Hair gel might be better to keep the shape, but it gets too stiff and takes too long to wash out.

Jack: Only using wax means that my hairstyle starts to lose its hold around evening time, but all I need to do for that is to just fix it up in the afternoon.

Jack: Nice, that looks good. All that's left is to spray it a bit…

[sprays hair]

Jack: Normally I won't use it 'cause I don't like it to get on my ears, but I want to make sure I look spot on today of all days.

Jack: As for makeup… Nah, I'll go without, like usual. I'd like to look good, but I don't want to get all dolled up or anything.

Jack: I'll just use my normal sunscreen. Can't say I really like how it feels on my skin, though…

Jack: But I remember the first time I ever went skiing by myself and the pain I went through when I forgot to apply sunscreen.

Jack: The way I got burned by the sun reflecting on the snow and I had to live with the embarrassment of the goggles leaving that imprint on my face… Augh, I don't even want to think about it again.

Jack: But thanks to that, I finally understand why my parents wouldn't shut up about not forgetting to put on sunscreen.

Jack: Looks like there's a bunch I'm able to understand more as I grow up, like that whole sunbathing thing. Guess that's another reason why it's fun to grow older.

[Savanaclaw Dorm – Jack's Room]

Jack: Alright. Now that I look presentable, I think I'll stretch out my muscles to prep for morning practice.

Jack: Phew… This old chair they supplied the room with really comes in handy for stretching.

Jack: Right after we got grouped together, none of us wanted it so we kept trying to shove it onto each other, but that was just a pain to deal with, so I kept it…

Jack: It's hard, sturdy, and it doesn't wobble so easily. Plus, the size is just perfect for someone of my height.

Jack: Next, I'll step onto the seat and… I guess I'll look over my class notes while I stretch, as usual.

Jack: I think we were on this page of the textbook for Magical History…

Jack: "The following year, the ancient incantations that were inscribed on the cave walls were successfully deciphered. The gathered mages then attempted to speak the ancient incantations…"

[Roommate B complains]

Jack: …Huh, what, I'm too loud? My voice woke you up? Well, good timing, the sun's almost up. Get up, already!

[Main Street]

Jack: Urk, is that who I think it is over there…? …Good morning, Riddle-senpai.

Riddle: Good morning, Jack. Have you finished with morning practice already?

Riddle: Happy Birthday. That's all I came here to say.

Jack: …Of course it was about that. Sorry to be a bother about it. I didn't mean to let it slip yesterday…

Riddle: Heh, you're no bother. We may be of different dormitories, however it is the duty of us upperclassmen to support our underclassmen.

Riddle: You should continue to do your utmost. …Of course, I'm sure you don't need me to tell you that.

Jack: Yes, sir! I'll keep on improving!

Requested by @farfalla049.

[dreamgirlbny]

mean!ellie rambles

because i love mean ellie williams <3 and reader: brat to the core. 18+ minors dni

content: lowkey toxic, but she does love reader. lots. punishments, crying kink?, use of strap mentioned. daddy kink not mentioned but keep it in mind cause ellie 100% makes reader call her daddy.

she would be very nosy about everything; your friends, your plans, your grades in uni classes, your outfits when going out without her, who you texted. she had so many rules that she claimed were for your safety. you suppose they really were, but sometimes it was exhausting, to say the least. but you knew she did it out of love, as she would remind you over and over again every time she made you cry when she was just a bit too harsh with her words.

secretly, though, the thing she loved most about you was how easily she'd get you there. oh, she loved making you cry. loved the way your face would crumble up at the slight change of tone in her voice, how quickly your chin would wobble when she would bring up her disappointments, how sweet you were when the tears would finally fall, clinging onto her shirt desperately even while you told her how mean she was being.

but you couldn't complain much, when you knew she would always make it up to you. buying you every item of clothing you so desired (after being approved by her, of course) taking you out on nice dinners, helping you pick out pretty decorations, taking you out to the movies and buying the entire concession stand if you wished, and the one thing that was always guaranteed, making you cum repeatedly on her rough fingers at the end of the day.

the truth is, she treats you very well; she just asks that you follow her extensive rules in return. you should know them like the back of your hand by now, after the countless nights of having you repeat them one by one as she spanked you with her belt when you misbehaved, or writing them down again and again while she made you cockwarm her strap until she felt it had finally gotten through your thick skull. and in those cases, when you had to be punished for breaking a rule, she would never let you cum. because while she encouraged bratty behavior, loving a chance to put you back in your place, breaking a rule was out of the question. and that would make it hurt even worse, but in her words, "it makes the lesson stick for longer, sweetheart."

and, on the days you were being especially obedient, she could be very sweet. small praises throughout the day, affectionate gazes and loving touches. she could let little things slide (with a verbal reprimand) if you were ultimately being good. she'd bring you all your favorite things; favorite coffee, favorite flowers, favorite food, a restock of your favorite makeup items. it became almost a daily occurrence for her to ask you how you were gonna behave that day, never being able to go thrice in a row being a good girl. one time you made it a whole week, exactly a week, shocking you both; but almost to the dot on the 8th day, the attitude that took over your body could only be described as Satan's spirit itself. it even shocked you honestly. and the punishment that followed it taught you both that small lash outs over the week were better than prolonged obedience.

[threepandas]

Bad End: The Nunnery

The Queen's portrait was a magnificent thing. A masterpiece of light and color, detail and delicate symbolism. She was immortalized. Forever in the prime in her life. The height of her beauty. Regal and magnificent as the day the King first saw her.

She was gazing to the left, face cool, and too those who might not know her? She might even seem cold. But, according to her? She had been a WRECK. Terribly nervous that she would trip or embarrass herself. She had been, after all, new to this country. Still uncertain. Standing before a VERY important figure in both the social and political circles of her new home.

So she defaulted to her "princess mask" as she called it.

Focused on her maid.

It? Was one of many such stories the Queen has told me. Over tea. On walks in her garden. Practicing etiquette or dancing. At meals. The King often joining in fondly. Reminiscing about those earnest and awkward early days in their marriage. Assuring me that my own will be just as warm and lovely.

But...

I know it will not.

Otome games. Oh, otome games. Why did I ever love you? What could I have done to anger you so? That you would cast me in to a role such as this? The woman to be scorned. Who must dedicate her life, work and work and WORK... only to have it all ripped away. Have everything she's ever known stolen by some upstart. One with no training, no support, no IDEA of what she's doing.

Who will lead everyone and everything to disaster, RUIN, with her careless tounge and unthinking ways.

Too Rule is not a GAME.

It is a SACRIFICE.

The crown not some trinket you wear just to match your DRESS! The crown prince some man you marry for mere LOVE! If love comes, you are blessed. Lucky. But the reality is? You sit on a chair that bleeds you dry. Beneath a crown of suffering. Asked to make impossible choices. Blamed for things beyond your control. Expected to live, bleed, then die there.

With some gods damned DIGNITY.

Can she do that? CAN SHE? Your pretty, flower brained, indecisive child of a lover? The one who is so "different" and so "carefree"? Who's lives has she held in her hands? What futures? Does she even KNOW who our current trade partners are? What the tax on sheep's wool is?

For that matter...

Where were YOU?

No. My husband to be? Will never marry me. I know there will be no happy ending here. And... and it hurts. Because dispite KNOWING my "role"? My destiny? Time moves slowly. Day by day. And I have a schedule to keep. A part I must play.

Unlike my Cannon counterpart, I am not haughty. Nor am I cruel. I behave as best I can, for a young lady of my station. Dignity, compassion, but with leadership. I am being trained, after all, to be the future Queen.

I play with my young brother-in-laws. Rolling balls in the flower garden. Clapping games. Listening to them practicing their reading. And as they grow, practicing their swords. I attend my lessons. Attend the rare party. Barely see my birth parents, who were only too happy to all but sell me off for power.

And my fiance?

Can barely tolerate me.

Cruel "jokes" and mud. Only getting angrier when I do not shriek and howl like the upset child he expected I would be. The more he gets punished for trying to torment me, the worse a witch I apparently am. Clearly, having planned it all. His poor mother is distraught. His father furious with his tutors. Who is allowing this behavior, they wonder? It is certainly not them.

But they can not be everywhere. So instead, I am brought where they can supervise. I do not mind. Find quite joy in how the Queen plays with my hair instead of her fan. How the King will pick me up, when I was small enough, to place me on his lap and show me his work. Then sets aside a chair, so we may "work together" as though my lesson's work could ever rival his own in importance.

They had wanted a daughter.

Love their sons.

But...and here they always trail off. The weight of something heavy and unsaid passing between them. The King hand usually warm, cradling, on my head. They do not want to say it. Worry me so young. Or worse, traumatize me.

After all... the King's family has a nasty paternal lineage trait, in which boys tend to try and kill the competition. Be it their siblings, parent's, or sons. They don't... share well. It had been flavor text in the game. For the "only kind to me" type prince.

Daughters however? Generally normal. Tend to take after their mothers.

The King had widely been known to want twenty and maybe a prince... if he HAD too.

They got several prince's instead. Worse, it had nearly killed her Grace to give birth to them. After that? The King refused to try again. Turned his hopes to his future daughters-in-law instead. It... it was beyond what I could have ever dreamed.

It was WARM. Dream like.

Gentle.

They radiated the sort of strength and dignity that made you WANT to listen. To lean into them and be protected. Sitting with the Queen in her parlor, side by side, as I leaned against her? Cradled against soft fabric and rich dyes. Her unique perfume delicately filling the air like tendrils of mist in a dream, the scent of tea and the melodic hum of her voice as she talked. It was like a beautiful trance sometimes.

Or when the King took me riding on his massive beast of a warhorse, just because he knew I loved the scared up old menace. I had to sit practically in his lap, side saddle, because the old grouch was a gremlin who wouldn't behave otherwise. But WOULD let me pet them with enough bribes.

I... I tried to be a good child.

A daughter they could think fondly off.

And... and I knew it would HURT. It would HURT so, so fucking bad. Not to lose my ASS of a fiance. No, he was a fool. But... but to lose the closest thing I had to parents in this world. I... I didn't want to go...

But.

BUT!

If I must? Then I would be well trained. Have a spotless reputation and dignity befit a royal. His Majesty could no doubt help me find a new engagement befitting my station. And I doubted her Grace would just toss me aside. I... I hoped.

When the Protagonist came? It was every nightmare I'd ever had. Endless scandal and horrifying indignity. Even my political rivals, my social foes, were grimacing. Were taking me aside to "freshen my make up" so I wouldn't have to see my intended behaving so... unforgivably.

Just fornicate in public, why don't you?

Can't be any LESS subtle.

I held the fiancee of the heir to Minister of Defense, a lovely girl I had known but not well, as she wept. The son of the prime minister's fiancee stared, grim faced, into the distance. She had come from several nations away as part of an alliance. I offered her my guest rooms. Whatever she should need.

Things spiraled.

They played out their happly little love story. Acting as fluttering children as their actions caused chaos and destruction all around them. She refused to choose. Somehow her father allowed this. I kept myself in the public eye, knowing better then to hide, for all that I desperately wished too. It payed off.

Someone tried to frame me. Spread terrible rumors about henious acts. To bad that everyone had SEEN me suffering with dignity and grace, in public where they could watch me.

It seems I was not the only one to reincarnate.

Why could not just be happy? Fall "in love" and steal one live from one soul? Was your greed so great? Did it really anger you that much? That I would not play along?

It certainly angered His Majesty, the rumors. They were unforgivable, according to Her Grace. But... BUT, sadly, the girl was pregnant. And the idiot was their son. The other idiots their allies foolish, foolish offspring. What could be done?

Simple.

Send them to His Majesty's brother.

It was, after all, tradition to spread out after coming of age. What with the whole "I want you dead" tendency that ran in their family. All the better so as to not step on metaphorical toes, as it were. And the King? Had one surviving (for now) brother. The high priest of the High Northern Temple. Good and remote.

Perfect for banishment and a life of reflection.

That, however, left me I reminded them. I was met with matching smiles. Adopted or marry the next youngest prince! Obviously. Ah. I see. But wouldn't that be-?

The queen takes me arm, tucking it in hers, and tells me not to worry about it. Leads me towards the gardens. Have I seen the new flowers they've just ordered? They are quite lovely. I had not. I let myself be distracted. Lean my head against the Queens shoulder as we walk. And finally... relax.

I'm safe.

The Queen smiles. We are joined by the King, his expression warm. I feel at peace. Protected. Treasured. I love them so much. A warm and perfect family. I'm glad I don't have to leave. I say as much and they laugh, hugging me.

"Oh, of COURSE Darling! We would NEVER let you go!"

"That's right, my dearest. You're here forever."

[junkdrawerfan]

Tim should NEVER go back to being Red Robin. Red Robin was a punishment and Tim at his lowest. It’s like when Dick lost it and went to Detroit and told everyone he loves to forget about him. Not a good look.

Tim should become an adult hero. He is in a stage of arrested development because everytime he meets his future self it’s Gun Batman. Also not a great look and probably an ego death on a scale I can’t understand.

Tim should definitely never be Batman (see Gun Batman). He should get out from under Batman’s cape and find a reason to be a hero other than “I want to help my heroes and I feel good when I help people.” Which yes is a total simplification but Tim doesn’t have a strong internal reason to be a hero.

He should become something like Strike or Cardinal (every universe gets a religious brother!). He should find being a hero fun again. He should fall in love with Gotham for his own reasons that are conscious and arguable.

Red Robin was great because it was about Tim growing up and finding his own moral code, which was inline with Batman’s at the end. But for every arch in the Red Robin run, Tim is exploring why he shouldn’t kill and be non lethal and give people the benefit of the doubt. That’s great! It’s very reflective of what real children go through in their later teen years. Tim is teetering on the edge and with each lesson explored and learned, he takes a step away from the ledge Jason was flung over. That’s good writing!

If I was writing Tim Drake, I would pick up with him feeling lost and going through the motions. He has his friends and his family and his cute boyfriend but he’s directionless. He’s working at Wayne Enterprises, a majority stockholder with very little say in the day to day on goings, maybe he’s got a small job in R&D where he gets to dick around with Lucious Fox every day. He goes on patrol and fucks around with his brothers and dad. He joins the Titans on the weekends to run small missions but isn’t an active live-in member of the team because he just doesn’t feel ready to leave Gotham. He goes on weekly dates with his boyfriend and tests him good morning kiss emojis. His life is quieter after the turmoil of his late teens. He’s settling into a grove but that finally leaves him time to think about what he wants to do.

Tim never planned to be a hero his whole life but here he is. He doesn’t need to work. He’s stupid rich and his dad is stupid rich. He hates school, going to college makes his skin itch. Bernard is in culinary school and sometimes hints at a trade school or getting a job just to have something to do for more than 10 hours a week and give him a chance to socialize. Tim is always at his best when he gets to socialize even if he claims he’s an introvert.

And then there is an inciting incident. A case makes Tim enroll in Gotham U and he sits in a few classes looking for a rogue his age. But he finds he actually likes it. It’s not like high school with so many rules and restrictions. The small discussion groups require real thinking. He’s not here to impress the teacher and get a decent grade. He talks about it with Bernard. For a second he even forgets about the case, he’s just so excited about the topic of discussion in his Ethics and Philosophy class.

So when the case is over, he considers signing up.

But then he worries about heroing and if he’ll have time. And he really really hated school…

And then he finds out his friends are going to be graduating college soon. Steph is graduating college next semester. Did he miss his chance? Would it be weird to be a 21 year old freshman?

But then there is another case. This time about a professor. Clearly something is in the water in Gotham U. Turns out that other case is connected to a conspiracy about the school so he keeps going and he keeps attending class. He jokes with Dick that this is the universe telling him to get a degree and Dick looks at him with that inquisitive look as he sees through Tim’s bluster and says “It’s okay to want something different.” And it stuns Tim. But of course Dick Grayson would know just what to say. It’s Dick Grayson.

And the story progresses. He makes new friends. Mostly for the case but he really likes them. And he has a panic attack over midterms. He hates tests. Bernard makes him hot coco and encourages him. He does well in class. Bs & As and some Cs but he doesn’t feel pressure about GPA because he’s not “really going anyway.” And then it’s finals and he finally catches the rogues which turns out to be a secret society of alumni who find smart students and encourage (pressure) them to take up villainy (usually not caped but Lex Luther can’t be the only evil businessman in Gotham!) to enrich the members of the secret society.

And the whole time, he’s enjoying college and his hero job. It feels like when he first ran away from JPV and set out to do his own thing as Robin. It’s not like he’s always hiding under Bruce’s cape but it’s nice to be fully in charge of his case again. He doesn’t go to the Batcave at all. He just works out of his nest in Crime Alley because it’s closer to campus. Bruce stumbled his way through saying he’s happy to see Tim back at the nest and Tim feels happy even if Bruce insults his house boat like two times. It’s nice to see his dad validate him as his own adult hero, spreading his wings.

For some reason (comic book logic insert here) he can’t go out as Robin. He doesn’t want to be caught associating with the Bat. The secret society is really good at hiding from the Bats, it’s how they’ve lasted this long. So he has to design a new look that isn’t Black & Red. He keeps the bat insignia off because it’s temporary and, again, he doesn’t want this touching Batman. He’s just on his own taking down this secret society that encourages corruption and destruction in Gotham.

(Maybe at some point he has to hang out with Helena and it just feels really nostalgic and nice! Listen I love their sibling dynamic!!)

And at the end, he’s finished one semester of Gotham U, he has a new costume that feels good and is all his own, not a legacy he has to uphold or a punishment he’s inflicting on himself because of grief and rage. And he feels good. It’s the best he’s felt in so long. He feels like he has purpose, that he’s in control of his life instead of just moving day to day.

He doesn’t want to give up this feeling.

So he signs up for next semester, tells his friends and family and boyfriend he’s going to college, and slaps a bat on his new costume and introduces the world to Strike.

[s7my]

YOUR TALENT IN MATRIX DESTINY

calculate your MATRIX DESTINY here :

1 - The Magician

you have a natural gift for understanding how things work and making new ideas come to life. you easily see connections others miss and can use your mind to solve problems in creative ways. you’re good at taking what’s around you and turning them into something useful or powerful. your confidence helps you start projects and take control without hesitation. you don’t wait for things to happen; you make them happen by using your skills and quick thinking. this means you’re great at planning, inventing, and leading, but you need to stay focused and not get distracted by too many ideas at once. your talent lies in making your vision real through action and clever use of what’s available.

2 - The High Priestess

you have a strong ability to understand things that aren’t obvious or visible, like feelings, hidden truths, and deeper meanings. you trust your intuition and can sense what others might miss, making you good at reading people and situations without needing everything explained. you’re naturally calm and patient, able to wait for answers to come instead of forcing things. this helps you make wise decisions based on your inner knowledge instead of just facts. you’re also good at keeping secrets and understanding mysteries, which means people often come to you for advice or guidance. your talent lies in knowing when to listen, observe, and trust your gut to find the truth beneath the surface.

3 - The Empress

you have a natural talent for creating and nurturing growth in everything around you. whether it’s ideas, people, or projects, you know how to help them develop and thrive. you’re good at making things feel comfortable and welcoming, and you often bring out the best in others by supporting and encouraging them. you notice details that help you improve what you touch, and you have patience to see things through from start to finish. you’re also connected to your senses and the physical world, so you understand how to use resources wisely and create beauty or abundance. your strength is in building strong foundations and caring for things so they grow healthy and last long.

4 - The Emperor

you have a natural ability to take control and bring order to chaos. you’re good at setting rules, making plans, and creating structure that others can rely on. people look to you for leadership because you’re confident and steady, able to make tough decisions without hesitation. you don’t shy away from responsibility and have a strong sense of duty to protect and build stability. you’re practical and focused on results, so you work hard to create security for yourself and those around you. your talent is in organizing resources, people, and ideas in a way that builds a solid foundation that lasts over time, and you have a strong sense of authority that naturally commands respect.

5 - The Hierophant

you have a natural ability to understand traditions, rules, and systems that guide people’s behavior and beliefs. you’re good at learning and teaching what’s important in a clear, organized way that others can follow. you see value in structure and shared knowledge, so you’re skilled at helping people find meaning through group ideas, rituals, or accepted wisdom. you’re patient and disciplined, able to stick with long processes and pass on lessons that others respect. your talent lies in connecting people to something bigger than themselves, whether it’s culture, religion, or a common set of values, and helping them feel grounded and supported by that. you’re reliable in maintaining order and guiding others through established paths.

6 - The Lovers

you have a natural talent for understanding relationships and making connections between people. you see the importance of choices, especially when it comes to matters of the heart or values, and you’re good at balancing different needs and desires. you’re skilled at creating harmony and bringing people together because you understand both sides and can communicate clearly. you feel deeply and use that emotional insight to make decisions that affect you and others. your strength is in knowing when to commit, how to build trust, and how to create partnerships that work. you’re also aware that your choices have consequences, so you think carefully before acting. this makes you good at forming meaningful bonds and guiding others.

7 - The Chariot

you have a strong ability to stay focused and push forward even when things get tough or confusing. you know how to control your emotions and keep your mind clear so you can reach your goals. you’re good at handling challenges because you’re determined and don’t give up easily. you take charge of situations and use your energy to overcome obstacles quickly. your talent lies in balancing different forces or ideas within yourself and using that balance to move ahead with confidence. you’re also skilled at steering your life in the direction you want, making decisions quickly, and staying motivated no matter what stands in your way.

8 - Justice

you have a natural ability to see things clearly and fairly, even when situations are complicated or emotional. you’re good at understanding what’s right and wrong and making decisions based on facts, logic, and fairness instead of feelings or bias. you’re honest and responsible, and you expect the same from others. your talent lies in balancing different sides of an issue and finding solutions that are just and fair for everyone involved. you’re skilled at following rules and principles, and you hold yourself accountable for your actions. you don’t avoid difficult choices, and you’re willing to face the consequences to maintain fairness and truth. this makes you someone others trust to make fair judgments and keep things balanced.

9 - The Hermit

you have a natural talent for stepping back and looking inside yourself to find answers that others might miss. you’re good at being alone and using that time to think deeply, reflect, and understand your true feelings and thoughts. you don’t rush to share what you learn but prefer to keep your insights private until you’re sure. your strength is in your patience and your ability to focus on your personal growth without distractions. you’re skilled at guiding yourself through tough times by trusting your own wisdom, and people often look to you for quiet advice because you see things clearly. you’re not easily influenced by outside noise, which helps you stay true to your path.

10 - Wheel of Fortune

you have a natural talent for understanding that life is always changing, and you’re good at going with the flow instead of fighting it. you notice how events come and go in cycles, and you use this awareness to make smart decisions about when to act or hold back. you’re adaptable and can handle sudden shifts without losing your balance or direction. your ability to see patterns in chance or timing means you can take advantage of opportunities when they appear, and you don’t get stuck when things go wrong because you know it won’t last forever. your strength lies in staying flexible and open to change, using both luck and timing to your benefit.

11 - Strength

you have a natural ability to stay calm and steady when things get tough, using patience and inner confidence instead of force or anger. you’re good at controlling your emotions and fears, which helps you face challenges without losing control. your strength comes from understanding yourself deeply and showing kindness even in difficult moments. you don’t rely on power or aggression to get what you want; instead, you use quiet courage and persistence to overcome obstacles. your talent lies in handling pressure with grace and influencing others through gentle but firm self-control. this lets you stay balanced and focused no matter what’s happening around you.

12 - The Hang3d Man

you have a natural ability to see things from a different perspective and accept situations that others might resist. you’re good at stepping back and letting go of control when needed, which helps you find new ways to understand problems or challenges. you don’t rush to act but instead wait patiently, knowing that sometimes progress comes from surrender and reflection. your talent lies in being able to pause and rethink, gaining insight by looking at things upside down or differently than most people. you’re comfortable with uncertainty and can handle discomfort without panic, using it to grow and shift your mindset. this helps you discover deeper truths and find solutions others might miss because you’re willing to change your view and embrace patience.