#this is one of those 'these sentences can and should coexist'

[emily84]

the funniest bit about bbc staged is when they tried to offhandedly imply luigi pirandello was not a fascist. what a clumsy attempt at preemptively intercept criticism lmao

"his play six characters in search of an author came out in 1921, well before the fascists took power in 1922" my silly silly brits in christ, he literally had a card of the fascist party and personally corresponded with mussolini, whom he always praised as a great leader, and never repudiated fascism until his death. the fact that he couldn't get along with fascist party officials and his plays weren't liked or understood by most fascists =/= he wasn't a fascist. and also re: the hot takes about "well since his family were of a strong garibaldini extraction he wasn't really a fascist he was just very patriotic and fascism answered to that part of his longing for a united italy" or "he was self-proclaimed apolitical" how about you get fucked.

he was a literary genius, and his works are a part of italy's incredibly rich cultural history, his plays seminal in theatrical writing worldwide. his plays were never explicitly political, but rather razor-sharp, biting, nihilistic criticism of contemporary italian/western society, seeped in bleak, all-encompassing existentialism. he often clashed with fascists because they couldn't understand his art, especially when his early social-democratic roots showed a little bit too much. this is all true, so fellow italians, settle down, no need to die on that hill, no one is denying that.

but again, sorry, for all intents and purposes, politically, he was a fascist. to not admit that is a disrespect to writers, intellectuals (and less privileged private citizens and workers) who did repudiate fascism even when they had a lot more to lose than he ever did.

[essentiallyleaf]

day 07. public sex. with. soojin, zoa.

2388 words.

tags.

kinktober ‘23, idol x idol x male reader, reader has the tiniest hint of rizz, but is still a loser at heart, public sex, double blowjob, standing doggy, pussy eating, fingering, stand & carry, 1mg of rimming, very smut heavy, basically unedited, complete mess.

notes.

horny + tired sounds like a recipe for terrible writing. and i don’t really know if it is, since i basically haven’t read this back :] generically, leaf.

“I need this now” and “Take me here” might be the exact and only two sentences that could get you to do anything, anytime, anywhere. But that’s a hypothetical, and despite the inhibition of three Manhattans and a couple beers, castles in the sky crumble when you hear those exact words come out of those two’s sweetly curled and devilishly full and luscious lips in the middle of the dance floor.

You didn’t really know them that well. They go to the stationery shop you work at fairly frequently (every other Friday between 3 and 5 p.m., they usually hover around the notebook and colored pens sections, try a bunch of them out - like, sooo many, can they not recite the entire color palette by heart yet? - while laughing you can’t really tell at what, then come to the checkout with about exactly one sharpie and two big smiles, and then leave. What? No, you don’t remember them particularly more than any other customer. Why would you?), but you’d never really talked. That’s why you’re surprised when they approach you on a random Saturday night at the club, talking about which their favorite drinks solely based on color are and how, if bonsai are a thing, there must be a way to make humans exist in tiny, and what if they’re out there now, going around untying shoelaces and stealing any small item that falls to the ground? They don’t look drunk, they look happy, which is a different thing. Aren’t they just talking about gnomes, anyway (which, by the way, definitely exist)?

It’s not how they wear those good girl smiles a second before sandwiching you while dancing, their bodies pressed against yours. Soojin from behind, pawing at your pecs and slowly kissing your neck up to the back of your ear, Hyewon in front of you but facing away, her ass literally rubbing against your now visible erection while she takes your hands and moves them from her hips, to her exposed belly, up to her boobs.

It’s not how she turns her head to kiss you and that smile is still there, like she’s playing a game, like this is just harmless fun between friends. Yeah, friends, you think, until the deer eyed girl turns around to face the two of you, her hands reaching around you and landing on Soojin’s ass and switches from your mouth to hers. What made you think they were just friends again? You’d think of an answer, but you’re distracted by the older girl’s hand venture lower towards your dick, which she starts stroking through your pants.

It’s not even how the three of you (and you in particular) now look like a complete mess right in the middle of the club, your bodies rubbing on each other’s in feral hunger, your tongues entangling with burning lust. It’s really not that.

It’s how pairs of eyes turn towards that filthy scene. Initially just a couple passing peeks, then a few more, longer gazes, mixing aversion with slight arousal, until the whole club is aware of the tonguing, the groping and the humping. And while some of them walk away, the people who stay seem turned on by the scene, as if intoxicated by the scent of your libido.

It really should just be embarrassing for you. And at the start, it was. To be left open-mouthed in front of a live audience like a comically fat dead trout in a fishing contest while two, admittedly gorgeous, girls alternately brush, squeeze and hump your dick wasn’t exactly your proudest moment. But somehow, that embarrassment coexisted with a sense of excitement. And as the two keep making a toy for their pleasure out of you, the latter only grows stronger and ends up completely overpowering the former.

That’s why when Soojin asks “Wanna go to the bathroom?”, the only possible answer is “Why not here~?”

“There’s not enough space”

The crowd was in fact big and quite cramped around the three of you. You are left without choice as she takes you and Hyewon by the arm and leads you towards a small black door right by the bar.

The girls throw you into the wall and kneel in front of you before the door even closes. Four hands take your belt off, or rather attempt to for a while before getting it (it probably would have been easier if only one person did it, but you don’t dare suggest it), then pull your pants and your boxers down. You can still hear clearly not only the music, but every scream coming from the room you were just in (these walls suck, even for club bathroom standards).

Your cock, already erect thanks to the scene you three made back there, falls right in the middle of their expecting faces, and all they have to do is stretch their necks a little further to start sprinkling it with wet kisses and short licks and already causing you to shed some precum. They more or less intentionally happen to move towards your base and take a longer lick up to the tip of your dick, where they collect your nectar and meet in a French kiss. Actually, that’s not even a kiss, more like their tongues messily exchanging three people’s fluids while completely outside either’s mouths, and it looks fucking filthy.

Soojin is the first to wrap her lips around your head and start slowly but steadily bobbing, taking a slightly larger portion of you in her mouth each time. Hyewon, leaving no time wasted, travels further towards your balls, first getting them wet with her saliva, then alternatively taking one in her mouth and sucking it hungrily, seemingly having the time of her life. The older girl, despite the small size of her mouth, fits almost three quarters of your length in her cavern, even managing to keep herself there and brush the underside of your cock while sucking.

“Unnie, leave some for me!”

Soojin makes way for her friend/tongue buddy, who seems immediately much more feisty, though likely less experienced, sacrificing technique for power and a much faster pace. The older gathers Hyewon’s hair together in a makeshift ponytail and starts licking from her jaw and cheek to around her ear, while the younger, gifted with a bigger mouth, is basically already deepthroating you. You hold your hands around her head and push the last bit in, her eyes watering a little as you hold position for a good fifteen seconds. And, cut.

“You okay?”

“Fuck, that was fun!”

This deer eyed slut just deepthroated you without you batting an eye (well, you were quite lost in pleasure yourself, your eyes quite literally rolling to the back of your hair, but you know), and you’re surprised that she swears?

People could literally step into the bathroom at any point, but honestly, the thought is not even passing your mind. Actually, some might have even walked beside you while you were filling their mouths with your hardness, it’s honestly just too hard to pay attention to anything else, with these two. That’s why you can’t even fathom worrying about the rest of the people in the club, even with what happens next.

Soojin drops her jeans along with her light blue panties and sits on the long counter that connects all the sinks together, running along the entire length of the bathroom below the mirror, while Hyewon bends over in front of her, glancing at the other girl with a playful smile before feasting on her gorgeous pink pussy. You only need to get behind her, bunch her white tennis skirt up on her waist and pull her black panties down and to the floor. Her lips are fat, her slit clean and shiny. You look back at her underwear, and notice a wet patch in the center, not particularly small, either.

“Did you cum just by humping me back there?”

“Maybee~”

You hold your tongue out and take one long lick across her womanhood as she lets a moan out and into the older girl’s crotch. Her sweet scent, her soft texture, her perfect taste are- fuck it, you need your dick in that pussy. So stand up again, align yourself to her, and push it in. 

Hyewon is tight, but even moreso, she’s warm. Her hole welcomes you like that’s all she was waiting for all night, like you’re her guest and she wants to make sure you know she prepared. And as you slowly thrust into her, making sure to use your hips to hit every little spot, every patch of her pussy, she lets a constant stream of guttural groans into the one she’s eating herself. Soojin can’t help but push the younger’s face into her crotch, stimulated not only by her tongue, taking trips now on her lips, now in her slit, now on top of her pink clit, but also by the vibrations of her lewd sounds, resonating in her cavern and expanding all over her body.

As you grip the girl’s asscheeks tightly, you start picking up the pace, but she immediately reaches a hand behind her and on your wrist. You slow down again, and her whimpers tell you that this is the rhythm she wants you to hold. In fact, her lower abdomen starts tensing up as a sign that her peak is near. She wants something else. She detaches from the older’s pussy, leaving her disappointed and cutely pouting, and takes small quick steps forward towards the counter, until her face is almost reaching the Soojin’s. She then zips her white top fully down. The older, in a better position to take care of it, gets the hint and rids herself of her top as well as her white strapless bra, leaving them beside one of the sinks. Hyewon takes a millisecond after that to attack her friend’s perfectly sized soft tits with her mouth and left hand, and her hole with her right.

The older is completely thrown off by the sudden initiative and the resulting pleasure it brings to her erogenous zones, and she starts moaning uncontrollably. The younger can’t hold it much longer. Her mouth leaves her friend’s boobs to meet her lips in another tongue filled spectacle. Two fingers from her right hand slide in and out of Soojin’s slit, while her thumb circles around her clit. The older’s also so close. But you’re the one who will make the final move.

You bend down towards Hyewon’s body, reach around and under her black one-shoulder top to feel and fondle her big fluffy mounds as you keep pumping your girth into her, and that ends her.

She washes your cock with the whirlwind of her juices while she contracts repeatedly around you and releases the lowest moan of the night. That in turn triggers her friend’s peak, in her case the liquid sprays on the younger’s hand and wrist and her hips buckle as she reaches to the mirror behind her for support.

Hyewon falls to her knees. Both girls are panting for oxygen, but the one you just fucked seems particularly spent from it.

“You good?”

She nods, and shows you her index finger: “One second”

You turn your head back up.

“Can you do it?”

“Can you~?”

This bitch. You step closer to the counter and wrap your hands around the underside of Soojin’s milky, meaty thighs to spread them open even more. You share a glance with her, and she looks fucking obscene. Her hair has lost its parting, her forehead covered in sweat. That lower lip always just kind of hanging there, like she needs something to fill her mouth at all times. So you kiss her hungrily, and she lets your tongue in her mouth like she’s craving it, like she’s begging for it.

Meanwhile, you guide your head to her slit and part it, slowly entering her cavern. She is so tight. She whines softly into your mouth as you get deeper and deeper. Once you’re fully in, you give her a second to get used to your girth.

“My neck. Your arms around my neck”

She obeys as you immediately raise her from the counter and carry her towards the center of the bathroom as you start pumping into her tight heaven.

Who fucking cares at this point, people could walk in on you and you would thank them. They’d love to have a cock big like yours, to have a girl as beautiful as yours, and to fuck the former into the latter like you’re doing right now. No. They’d just have to watch, like some pathetic frat boys peeping at an older girl they couldn’t even pray to get.

Your hands grab onto Soojin’s ass so you can bounce her pelvis on yours while pushing up, accentuating the movement, as she keeps kissing you like her life depends on it. You feel your orgasm building up.

Then, you feel something below you. Hyewon, revitalized after her orgasm, is now kneeling below you, open-mouth kissing your dick, your balls, her friend’s slit and, you guess, anything else she might find in the way. This girl can truly never be idle. Meanwhile, as you get closer and closer, you switch to quick, single, powerful thrusts. One. Two. And-

You feel Hyewon’s tongue brush your asshole. It’s a sensation you never felt before, it kind of tickles, but it almost stings, at the same time. What it surely does, is to make you cum on the spot. You fire multiple shots of white liquid into Soojin’s pussy, the sensation making her scream (they definitely heard this one outside) and triggering her waterfall a second time, and as only so much matter can fill such a tight space, all of her squirt and probably most of your cum end up dripping down and coating Hyewon’s face. Her mouth is promptly open, so she gets to taste your combined fluids.

She shuffles them around her cheeks for a while, then one big swallow.

“Yummy~”

-

“Fuck, Hyewon. Was that on purpose?”

“Huh?”

“Your tongue”

“Oh! Well, did you like iiit?”

“He fucking came as soon as you touched him! What do you think?”

“Well, let’s see if it happens a second time, then”

-

footnotes.

it’s 4am. god. finally, leaf.

[stuckinapril]

Hi Cianna, just wanted to say I really admire your study ethic and general vibe on this blog (you inspire me to do better!)

Do you have any advice/tips for good study habits and staying focused? I find that I get some work done, but after a break I can't get back on track

Sorry for the long ask/ studyblr type of question;; what is your favourite hairstyle that you do with your hair! (I also have curly brown hair :)

Have a lovely day also <3

🌻🌻

hi! i touch on a lot of points in this other ask, but a few specific learning techniques i abide by are:

parkinson's law. parkinson's law states that work expands to fill the time. basically if you have an essay that's due in a week, it will magically take you one week to get it done, even if the task itself could've been done in one day. to counter this i just set artifical deadlines for myself--even if an essay is due in a week, my personal deadline has it due in two days.

prime your brain prior to learning. if you need to study a biology chapter, pre-skim it the night before. this is not the time to go into detail--it's the time to familiarize yourself with the overview of the topic, so you should only be making a quick scan of the chapter. another priming method is to make a concept map of topics before diving into a chapter. as you skim write down key terms haphazardly, google those you don't recognize, and draw a concept map linking them together. this is effective bc it requires you to actually put effort into connecting the topics, takes no longer than 15 minutes, and speeds up the learning process that follows. it doesn't matter if you find out you're wrong once you dive in; what's important is you're actively thinking of how these topics coexist, as opposed to mindlessly taking notes or highlighting only to forget what you learned a couple hours later. i'm also a fan of concept maps bc i get to go back and highlight stuff i'm weak in, which is always a plus.

if you like to take notes, use it as another means of active recall. don't just passively take notes as you go along. what i like to do is i read a paragraph, close the book, then try to take down notes based off memory alone. this helps me both phrase the topic in my own words and realize what my learning gaps are, rather than just passively summarize without putting effort into truly understanding/memorizing something. anything i get wrong i hammer into my brain until i can't get it wrong anymore.

take notes effectively. our brain does not learn in sentences and paragraphs. it learns in bullet points, diagrams, and figures--and that's how i like to frame my notes. first i ask myself if i actually need to take notes to begin with, or if there are online notes out there i can use to save time (which, as a stem student, there typically are). if i do decide to take notes, i never mindlessly summarize. i always condense the material into bullet points, diagrams, concept maps, or visual representations. i also like to phrase my notes as questions rather than just passive summaries, so that when i review them i'm already testing myself in a way. most people would not understand my notes bc they're either very low-yield stuff, stuff i'm weak in, or bare-bones fragments of information.

always prioritize weaknesses. if you're weaker at chapter 18 of your textbook vs chapter 1, maybe start with chapter 18. don't spend 6 hours taking notes on chapter 1 if you're already strong in chapter 1. always attack your weaknesses first.

practice practice practice!! so so important. i owe all my As to mock exams, quizzes i make myself, end-of-chapter questions etc etc. imo practice matters a lot more than passive content review.

interleaving concepts helps with retention. an example of this is i like to do biology and chemistry one day, biochemistry and organic chemistry the next day, physics and psychology the day after... i'm not just doing biology all day, every day. another thing i like to do if i'm in a massive rut is i hop between tons of different subjects on the same day, which keeps me from getting bored/helps me understand the subjects better through distinguishing their differences.

retrospective timetable. an example of this is if i find i'm pretty weak in a particular physics topic, the next few days will disproportionately focus on physics over other subjects. inversely, if i just breezed through a biology chapter, the next few days will have less biology than initially planned. i'm constantly going back and revising my study timetable based on my performance of the day, rather than relying on a rigid prospective timetable that doesn't take into account my progress.

less passive learning, more active. spaced repetition is a big one. i love anki for this bc there's an algorithm that dictates how often topics come up again based on how well you answer them. other methods include active recall, having friends quiz you, and trying to teach the topic to others (or the plushie in your bedroom haha). if you find you're struggling to simplify topics and explain them, that's a sign you don't understand them very well yourself.

[impossiblycolorfulpanda]

"Azulaang looks better and less toxic than Zutara."

Yeah, that's an actual thing I've been seeing lately and it seriously baffles me.

Nobody get it twisted. I want Azula redeemed and Azulaang to coexist alongside Zutara, but I feel I should address some elephants in the room.

If this is being said because Zuko betrayed Katara, hired a hitman to kill Aang and Katara threatened to kill him if he did it again. Well, let me tell you, Azula straight up murdered Aang supposedly, without blinking, with a grin on her face and felt no guilt over it afterwards.

Zuko, on the other hand, kept dwelling on this mistake, eventually he set out to undo them and succeeds.

Azula intimidated Ty Lee into joining her mission. While Mai willingly came along, Azula would've likely did the same thing if Mai declined.

Azula is a good enough of a liar to fool even Toph and will use her opponents' insecurities against them, those traits can be very dangerous in the wrong hands.

Azula was also the one to sentence the earth kingdom the same fate as the air nomads, something Sokka considered pure evil btw.

She's also been going through schizophrenic-like paranoia, has often used intimidation to enforce order and maniacally tried to shoot a bolt at Katara out of spite. Not exactly the best qualities you'd want in a relationship.

Zuko jumped in front of a lightning bolt and saved Katara's life, she expressed genuine gratitude and saved him in return. How does that make Zutara toxic?

There's a reason I imagine Azula and Aang developing a spiritual link/connection/bond between the two. It allows Aang to see past Azula's lies better than Toph can and vice versa and they can understand each other's experiences better than anyone. It's too big a risk not to have this bond.

[dreamsclock]

I was halfway through a post abt how c!Bad isn’t victim-blaming c!Tommy by having empathy for c!Dream, and I was gonna reblog it right up to the last sentence where they said c!Dream was gaslighting c!Sam in prison to make him feel bad 😭 Bitch wtf

Its still surreal to me that ppl think c!Dream was gaslighting c!Sam during the prison arc. Even if you believe c!Dream is the most evil unredeemable cartoon villain in the world he literally had no power in that situation. Like dont u think he’d gaslight his way into not eating raw potatoes all the time or something

Maybe I would b willing to give Dream antis the benefit of the doubt if it weren’t for the fact most of them have no critical thinking skills and they send random ppl death threats for liking a fictional dude smh

it’s a shame people don’t realise “c!bad has empathy for c!tommy but is frustrated by him” and “c!bad has empathy for and maybe even cares for c!dream” can coexist as takes :’) like ! they’re not mutually exclusive !! especially considering nobody really seems to know about exile !!

re: c!dream gaslighting in prison…. are people forgetting c!sam is THE gaslighter girlboss ?? /lh but seriously, c!sam gaslights the hell out of c!bad (and probably other characters but i only specifically remember c!bad). what makes anyone think anything he says about prison activities can be trusted??

i don’t doubt that c!dream was doing his best to manipulate c!sam and c!quackity and his visitors, you know, Because He Was In A Horrific Situation And Was Trying To Escape Slash Survive (and also that’s just. how he rolls.) but GASLIGHT is a funny one.

literally what could he even gaslight c!sam about. “sam Ur crazy. quackity already came to torture me today. don’t u remember. pls don’t let him back in oh my god haaahahahaaa” LIKE ??

c!dream was probably using every tactic in the book to make life even slightly easier for him in prison (faking being worse injured to try and get c!quackity to stop torturing him, lying about escape plans to c!sam, calling c!quackity sir to get on his ‘good side’) but i think the important thing about c!dream’s ‘manipulation’ here is that ultimately he was doing anything he possibly could to survive. nobody blames an abuse victim for doing things underhand to survive. it’s no wonder c!dream was doing those things and i don’t think they should be held against him as like. acts of evil and villainy. when we have c!awesam “gaslight gatekeeper guilt trip” dude to deal with 😭

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

Can you talk about Gladue Reports for Native criminals? I was SA'd as a child by a Native man and I remember his lawyer reading a Gladue Report for him during sentencing and it felt like such a slap in the face to me, because it basically excused everything he did to me without him actually having to take responsibility. That's just my opinion though, would love to hear yours.

To be honest, I had to look it up as I'd not encountered the term before. And I agree with you, the whole thing is repugnant.

Essentially, a Gladue Report is the opposite of a victim impact statement. Instead of a victim describing how the crime has impacted their life, it's the perpetrator saying why what they did is somehow mitigated by the fact they're native/indigenous/first peoples.

What this says is, this group of people over here can't be expected to behave according to the norms of the society in which they live and were born into, so we should lower our standards and stop expecting them to. It's the bigotry of low expectations.

That somehow the sexual assault this man perpetrated against you is lessened or less of a crime because the man who did it is indigenous/native/whatever we're calling it now. He's less in control of and responsible for his own actions and less able to learn to behave right.

Imagine being able to say, I'm of Slavic descent and my ancestors were enslaved throughout the Middle East, therefore when I murder someone it's less of a crime because history or something. Or, many of the first Europeans in Australia were convicts who were shipped out having committed only minor crimes in Britain, so a descendant of those people gets a lighter sentence because history and deportation and shit.

Ridiculous.

In looking into this, I went down a bit of a rabbit hole regarding indigenous violence. As I've mentioned before, there's a myth that native people were peaceful and coexisted with each other and nature until the evil settlers arrived. Except this isn't true. Natives made alliances with settlers in many cases, in order to gain access to the weapons to exterminate their enemies. (They really needed Starfleet's rules around the Prime Directive, First Contact and not granting access to alien technology back then.)

In many communities with a high percentage of native people with tribal backgrounds, violence occurs at a higher rate per capita than other communities/populations. And this is across multiple countries: USA, Canada, Australia, New Zealand, and so on. Tribal customs of retaliation or score-settling are common. But nobody wants to talk about or address this because racism, colonialism, white guilt, something, something, something.

And yet, the existence of Gladue Reports at all is covertly an admission of this reality.

Lower violence is actually associated with strong centralized government, where violent deaths occur in the low single digit percentages... at their worst. Which is the absolute lower band of tribal societies and only goes up from there.

Bring it back to the point, the legal system said to you, what you went through is

In essence, it's like saying that he owes you $1,000 for what he did to you.... but you owe him $500 because of something he didn't experience that you didn't do, so he only owes you $500 and then you're even.

Or, more insidiously, that society owes him some proportion of a sexual assault, and disturbingly, you're the one to pay him the reparations he's owed.

Ridiculous, racist and utterly immoral.

[runawaymun]

this might be a little out of the blue, if you ignore it I totally understand, but I've been observing the "salt and light" thing from a distance and I really, really appreciate your posts about the recent developments. I never really had any belief the tag/group would be any different, so I never engaged with it, but it means a lot to know that it's not just me once again left feeling estranged from and ashamed of their faith. it's tiring, but also a little bit invigorating, re-realizing what a few gay Christian stories could mean to someone else in a similar state of mind. so, yeah, thanks for being, ironically, some salt and light!

Hey, thank you so much for dropping this in my inbox. Let's be buds, if you want :)

I was quite certain that there would be some people like this in the tag, but I had been hoping that since it had been presented as a place for Christian writers, then we could all maybe try to coexist and respect each other. I'm used to doing that at church because uh, yeah, reasonable adults can agree to disagree and the tag originally was presented as being a space for Christian writers, not a space for 'clean' content.

I just wish people would be honest. I dislike having to hedge people into saying what they mean. Either you want a moderated safe bubble for you and your pals (which is fine if you do!) or you want to create a community around the shared belief in Christ. They've since created a collection that it seems like they'll be moderating. Since their original intent seems to apparently have been to exclude queer Christians from the beginning, I am not sure why this wasn't their go-to option (and why they didn't just say so. It takes one honest, clear sentence on your pinned post. One honest clear sentence to say "If you're a writer whose art is impacted by your theology, whose beliefs come through your fingertips, who believes in a narrative where hope and love and light triumph, then tag away. Unless you're queer or your characters are.")

And...yeah...estranged and ashamed is 100% the feeling. I am just so sad that within like, 48 hours, the phrase "salt and light" has escaped containment to become somewhat synonymous with homophobia. I've seen some people outside the community discussing it independently and the general terms seem to be at large "uh it's Christian and homophobic ig??" which is just...so....frustrating. Because that's the exact opposite of what Salt and Light should be. We had a chance to show people that grace belongs to everyone who asks for it (and even those who don't. God causes his rain to fall on the righteous and unrighteous and all that...) and we dropped it.

<3 thank you SO much for reaching out. I want to be salt and light. I want to be a beacon of hope and love and kindness. I want my blog to feel cozy and warm and inviting and I want, above all, to speak justice, love mercy, and walk humbly. I'm glad that seems to be shining through. If the sum of my life is that I was kind, and I loved, and I helped even one person, then it's all been worth it. Every bit.

[papirouge]

We also gotta consider the courts can be heavily biased in favor of abusive men and rapists as well, and neglectful and sexist police officers can often revictimize survivors through victim blaming and neglect (my friend had her case dismissed because the boy was related to the cop) and we both know of several rapists who got off with a slap on the wrist (Brock turner). Obviously the long term solution should be fixing the justice system so this doesn't happen but (pt 1/2)

Ok but by your own logic, by encouraging women to retaliate and kill their abuser, it's putting women in a position of vulnerability by shoving them into the grip of the "sexist" justice system. I don't have the solution to fix the justice system, but pushing women to do things that would make them having to defend themselves against it is not reasonable. If anything, women should do everything they can to NEVER have to face the justice system altogether.

That being said, the justice system is flawed but it doesn't mean it protects only male predator. Yes scrotes are annoying to pretend caring about sex abuse only when males are victims, but there are several cases of women abusers who got away with what they did. So feminists asking like women the only victims of the screwed justice system is dishonest. The justice system has a problem with handling sexual abuse seriously, regardless of the gender.

That's why it is so important to go to the root of the problem. Educating women to nope out of toxic relationships, defend female spaces providing the help to those who escaped, help their making wiser dating choices, etc... That's why I'll never understand radfem hating on Female Dating Strategy when this platform is just providing one type of solution available for women (those who still want to date and not live a life of celibacy ). Regardless what terminally online separatists say, both separatism AND FDS can coexist to provide different solutions to different type of women who all seek to navigate through life and get the best out a system unfavorable to them.

And I don't understand why you're feeling like outweighing the pain of families of someone victim of abuse, to the one of the person who committed the abuse. The justice system is supposed to pull out sentences on the INDIVIDUAL level. (unless they are proved guilty of being actively complicit in the crime/having the capacity of preventing the crime from happening) Criminals families don't owe anything to anyone, and they shouldn't have to bear an additional weight beside the shame of having a criminal as their member.

It's funny you're talking about victim blaming about abused women....but have no issue victim blaming criminals families (implying they are deserving of more pain than the abused person family....) 🤔 Criminals DO compartmentalize and might come off as totally normal person to family members, coworkers, friends.... This myth of abusers being straight in the face menace to society is very harmful & counterproductive imo

[randomnameless]

Interesting how SS, VW, and AM/AG are all allied with the church, regardless of the need to sell body pillows and tea. Almost like that means something.

They can be allied with the Church, but the tea will always sell because "can't we walk with her uwu" is always prevalent.

VW is infamous for the "i wanted to walk with you uwu" line, when Billy never interacted with her, and the only VW exclusive interaction is her asking very rudely to Claude to disclose all of his personal information.

Even in AM/AG, when she's at the forefront and the ultimate antagonist, all the quirky "one drop of lizard blood and you're not human anymore" "a good nabatean is a relic" and "you have pointy ears you should not be allowed to rule over humans" are relegated to, uh, Rhea's fridge and never ever mentionned because Dimitri, as he was built in those routes, wouldn't be able to lament her fate if she started this spiel.

Baldo'n'Waldi are ignored in all routes.

So, for sure, in 75% of the routes you oppose her, but the tone in general is "war bad" and never "Edel bad" because the player must buy teasets.

It's kind of glaring that no one in the game reacts to Rhea's infodump or even reacts to her statements that a "crestless world" is a world without nabateans.

So when some people parrot "but her ideals uwu i just disagree with the means" in-game, that's even more jarring because her ideal is basically getting rid of a race of people because she believes their blood is ruining humanity and they cannot coexist.

Lundgren and the asshats Lycian nobles were called on their behavior in the Elibe games, but I suppose that's because no one wanted to sell "Lungdren in a nightgown" Cipher cards.

Tl; dr : the game tells a relatively simple story, and one route is without doubt the "villain route", but because tea needs to be sold, the entire's game content was muddled to make the other routes very complacent with the head of the "villain route", to the point where the Fodlan games are always saying one thing and its contrary in the same sentence.

Tea bags ruined this verse.

[popcornbutterflymedia]

episode 6: the constitution

striking, peculiar episode title.

imposing for what, at its core, is a love story. first thought was the rules people live by, and how this set of rules differs between social classes. it's a surprise that the elite really do have family constitutions drafted and written down to serve as iron clad law. theirs is a completely different world.

agendas and alliances

a change in this family constitution affects the two living mothers in the tiu family differently. the lawyer makes the change for self serving purposes, to benefit and protect her son. it ruffles the legal wife's feathers and triggers supposedly dead insecurities. this divergence makes the revelation of their unlikely alliance a surprise. then again, their motives and target are the same. it might not be so shocking after all.

the change will favor caroline the most. on the surface, it can be assumed that this favor is the father's way to do right by his daughter, to atone for his faults. this would be awesome valid reason, until one realizes that caroline proves to be the sharpest blade of her family, in all the right and decent ways. the headspaces of the first three tiu children aren't to be trusted. the girls have already shown their true colors, and ahia is no longer a gray character. nuanced, as all of them are, but the drive and the core is as clear as day.

one of the questions this show ultimately poses is, what it is to be a father, and how to be a man. from the first moment of the father's apparent awareness, and obliviousness, this has become a bother. see, all things' considered, wilson tiu is a decent man. his love for all his children is unquestionable, except there are four women in his life, and the two that are living coexist like this is the truth the most normal thing in the world. that, and his need to maintain control.

calling each other by name.

it's another day of caroline figuring out what happened to her, who her abductors are. another day of bingo shadowing her. she realizes she is in imminent danger, and worries abo her anonymity. this is also the first time bingo and caroline make proper introductions. with her identity at stake, caroline settles on her nickname. ling. it makes perfect sense for someone withholding their given name for food reason. it is also endearing. it's the first crack of vulnerability that she feels safe enough to let him call her by the name only those closest to her heart have the privilege to do so. there's a tenderness in seeing bingo run with the possibilities duling, darling....it's a little taste of the sweetness that is to come.

truth, trust, and credibility

their cab stops at a police station, much to bingo's dismay and surprise. caroline reports her abduction, the details of which are hazy. bingo becomes the suspect. he is interrogated by one suspicious officer. caroline sneaks out and leaves. this is the most frustrating I've been a so far. as much much as i love this show, i am too sensitive for my own good. confrontations, abuse of power, unkindness, and injustice are easy triggers, as they should be. i just feel things deeply, and get affected longer, so this show is going to be a trip. it becomes more frustrating when you understand exactly why certain choices are made. caroline cannot be judged for protecting herself, for doing what she thinks is right for her. she's never had anyone to trust. when she does choose to trust, she is always proven on the contrary. shows are developed in advance so this show airing right now is interesting. at a time when being at the wrong place at the wrong time, making a single wrong choice could practically be a death sentence for the poor, the unfortunate ones, bingo's encounter is art imitating life, a definite and pointed social commentary.

connecting the dots

after much consideration caroline comes to the obvious conclusion that his sister's fiance is the mastermind. she comes to his office unannounced and confronts him. she finds her sister inside, trying to save the relationship, trying to salvage reputation, and misogyny in action. it is unmistakable that this upper mantle is built by men, the patriarchy in which women are often pawnshop in the game of the powerful. the only way they cease becoming pawns is if they play puppetmaster armed with the truth, caroline tiu, ling will be an exception to all the rules, break the stereotypes. by opening herself up to the wider world she will set herself apart.

this is a love story, told first through individual personal growth stories.

[adventofheroes]

Spider's Bite

What measure is coexistence? Thought the Mother Spider as she watched the two humans.

A family of the infamous Death Spiders attempt to co-exist with a family of humans. Can coexistence be achieved? What exactly is coexistence anyway?

A pair of eight eyes stared out the window watching a small child named David play with his toy plane. His Father watched him as he read a newspaper. 

What measure is coexistence? Thought the Mother Spider as she watched the two humans. 

David then pretended to fly his plane into his Father’s tool shed, his imagination dictated that the shed be his hangar. 

Would true coexistence simply be not killing each other or would it be living alongside one another in harmony? 

David curiously spotted the web of Mother Spider and her sons, as he took notice that each one of them had a symbol of a skull on their abdomens. He ran back to drag his Father inside. 

Would hiding undetected be coexistence? 

“Yes, that’s a family of spiders David.” His Father said as he squinted further at the spiders, “Watch out son, those are Death Spiders.” 

“Death Spiders?” David asked. 

“Their bites are fatal to us people, we must learn to avoid them.” The Father said. 

“Are you going to kill them?” David asked with a hint of concern for the spiders. 

“No. We should be fine as long as we avoid them. They don’t wanna kill us.” The Father said smiling as they walked out.

As the two humans left, the Death Spiders scurried on their web. Each web line vibrated all except for the center, all except the Mother Spider. 

“They’ve seen us now!” one of her sons shouted as he paced back and forth. 

“We shouldn’t have picked this spot.” said another worriedly. 

She had five sons, all were in a panic, each planning to spin their own webs and leave. The Mother Spider remained calm as she tapped her left third foot three times on the web. Her sons instantly became still as they stopped to feel the web. 

The Mother Spider began tapping on her web in a specific pattern to communicate. 

“Worry not my children, our bite is potent and that’s what the humans fear of us. However, I’d like to believe we each share a peaceful existence. The humans built this corner for us to live and in turn, we catch prey that is annoying to the humans.” She explained. 

Another vibration was felt on the web, the combination of franticness and quickness of the vibrations were unmistakable of her third son, Spider David. 

“But the bite that can kill the humans is what will drive them to kill us! Maybe we should strike first.” Spider David said. 

There was a long sudden vibration that the other spiders immediately knew as the word known as “No.” Each spider lowered their bodies in respect to their mother. 

“We cannot give in to our fears. The humans have no intent of harming us and we will not escalate.” She commanded/ 

“Yes, mother.” The sentence echoed across each vibration one after another. 

As seasons upon seasons passed, the Spiders and David grew up together. David would sometimes come inside the shed to grab a tool and he would take a moment to stare at the Spiders. He would notice that sometimes their web would be larger, smaller, or in a different spot. The Father would sometimes work on tools, and the Mother Spider would observe closely. She was right, the humans had not bothered them for all of their seasons and her family had thrived. 

The father was growing older, in fact, he was far older than her. She had seen it before, she had remembered when her father was growing old. He would spin his webs and then take long times to rest. He also seemed dizzy. She didn’t like the sight. 

However,  another spider had moved in on the other side of the shed. Ironically despite her acceptance of humans, other spiders worried her. This other spider was male and much larger than her and her children. She knew what this meant, the spider had eaten several of their own kind. Due to his monstrous nature, she called him Vici.  She hoped her numbers would be enough to drive it off, but she dared not to fight it. A battle would result in unwanted death for both parties. As long as her family stayed together, they had safety. 

One day, Vici came concernedly close to her web to taunt them. 

He vibrated her webs to communicate, “You think you’re safe from me, you’re wrong! I’m the strongest and most vicious spider. A king among kings.” 

The Mother Spider remained calm. 

This creep is just trying to scare me. I won’t let him. She thought.

She tapped the web with calming vibrations, “You are truly a fool, you may have killed many spiders but many things can kill you, such as the humans.” 

The web vibrated with quick tappings that shook them, this was identified as laughing. 

“You know our bite can kill any creature big or small! You only say that so you believe that something can stop me, I will crush your beliefs!.” He said. 

Just then the Father came in, he was lifting a large toolbox. The Father was struggling to carry it and he placed it on the desk breathing heavily. He then sat down on a chair and closed his eye. This drew the attention of the spiders. 

Vici turned around and spun a web to lower himself downward. The Mother Spider was worried about what would transpire. 

An intense vibration was felt on the web, “Mother, he’s going to try to kill the human! We can’t let him shatter our relationship with them!” 

It was her second son, Luther. He had most believed in her ideals. 

Again she tapped calmly, “Son we cannot stop him. His strength is too brute and his tactics too cruel.” 

More quick long vibrations reached her, “I cannot stand by and do nothing!” 

She continued to tap to make a distinct no, but Luther would not listen as he lowered a web to chase after Vici. Her eyes watched closely as her heart became increasingly worried. All while, the Father was fast asleep unaware of what was about to occur. Vici smelled the scent of Luther as he landed on the desk next to the Father. He turned around as Luther also landed. Luther was only a mere one-third of his size. Unable to communicate, they were only filled with instincts. Luther charged at Vici as they both lifted up their legs crawling on each other dueling. Vici swung a leg towards his eye hitting it, Luther frantically swung his legs in defense. Vici had superior strength and experience to back it up, her son was no match. After a short shoving match, Vici bit his fangs into Luther. The impact bite killed him as he continued eating him. 

Oh, Luther! This pains me in many ways. She thought.

Returning to his mission, he spun a web to make his way towards the chair. This was the worst part, there was no hope, just a long creeping crawl as the Mother Spider could do nothing but watch. Vici had made it on his arm, and he bit down without hesitation. The Father immediately woke up as a red mark began swelling on his arm, he immediately knocked off Vici and stomped on him. 

Amazing. The humans hold a power I could never imagine. The life of Vici was nothing compared to his power. 

“David!” he called out, “David!” each call was weaker every time as his eyes became heavier. 

He sat down on the chair again, “David.” He said quietly before closing his eyes. 

He’s dead? But they’ll blame us, what should I do now? Can we still co-exist? She thought.

She calmed herself down. 

All hope isn’t lost, I’ll stay true to my beliefs. She thought.

The later seasons upon seasons were more tense and frightening. Mother Spider and her family had moved down to the lower reaches of the shed. No longer in an obvious corner but hiding in holes, scurrying out when nobody was looking. The son, David, had not taken his father’s death well. They were all grieving. She crawled around inside tunnels as her sons followed them. 

STOMP! STOMP! STOMP!

Frightening loud noises. She couldn’t tell what specific action was occurring but she could tell who it was coming from. The superior power. It was a human. As she came up to some light shining, she stopped to see what was happening. 

Terrifying. She thought. 

The human was stomping on another spider. It was a mere house spider, it posed no danger. Any living being could tell that the human David had bitterness in his heart. They stopped upon a larger hole where they would spin their web.

After spinning their new web they became settled, but soon David began tapping on the web. It was becoming tiring for her. 

“I always have a question about what happened Mother,” David asked. 

Don’t answer. He’s just ranting.  She thought.

“Why are we being punished? Why are we punished when one of us died for “our” cause?” he continued. 

Life isn’t fair, but nobody wants to hear that, especially not from their family. 

“Sometimes it takes years for things to fully resolve and work out.” She said. 

I don’t know if that’s true. 

More tapping were felt upon the web, this time from her other son, Petros. 

“I’ve run the scenario many times in my head. I feel like if we had all gone to stop him, things would have been better.” He said. 

“We shouldn’t dwell in the past.” She said. 

“We’re going to need a new web, there’s not much prey down here, we can no longer live safely in the shed.” He said. 

“I’ve always practiced what I preach, we will try to forget the past by moving outside of the shed. There will be more dangers, but we will continue to survive.” She said. 

I have hope for a brighter future. 

The next season, Mother Spider and her family had spun a web on a small tree near the shack. 

I never wanted to compromise my beliefs of coexistence. 

She sat again in the center of the web as her sons wrapped up a fly for dinner. 

But the humans no longer tolerate us living with them, so the next best route is living out where we consider ourselves to belong, within nature. We may not be hidden, but we are living.

And the season after that, she had found a second mate, and in fact, a new litter of children was going to be born soon. At the moment they were working on expanding the web to make it larger and more beautiful. This took approximately three days. 

On the fourth day, the human David walked out to the shed. She had not seen him in a while, and after he exited the shed, he noticed their web. He eyed it curiously as he came closer to observe. He stood about a foot away. David shook as he saw the skull on her body.

He still has fear in him. 

His expression turned sour as he walked away. He then quickly came back with a broom. 

What is he doing? We are no threat, we are just living!

It didn’t seem to matter to the human David. 

She quickly tapped on the web, “Quick..everyone escape!” 

It wasn’t quick enough as David swung the broom onto their web. The impact flung her into the air as she landed in the grass, she could only watch as her family was swiped at and stomped on. Soon David left and she was the only one who remained. 

It would have been better if I had died. No more thinking about what this means for my beliefs, just a quick death. Now all I have is survival. 

Words from the past echoed in her mind, “We should strike first.” 

Words from her now-dead son David. 

Strike first. Strike first. Perhaps he was right, after all, maybe the only way for me to exist is to destroy him. 

She started her journey as she crawled towards the human’s nest. This would take a long time, but she had nothing left.

It was now a colder season, as she crawled on the ceiling watching the human David. It had taken some time for her to find a way inside, but like any fortress there were cracks. David stood still cooking food as she lowered a web down aiming for his neck. However, as she loomed nearly close enough he switched positions taking the food with him. The Mother Spider sighed as she crawled back up her web to follow him. He was sitting down eating now, but her pace was slow. By the time she made it above, he had finished his food and switched spots again. She tried to drop down on him this time, but she missed. She landed on a counter and she quickly hid under a napkin. Peeking, she saw David was washing dishes. She carefully moved forward taking time to hide behind cover, but once again the human moved. She climbed up the wall to continue her pursuit. 

This is insanity! Despite my rage and resolve, I cannot catch a human. 

She stayed on the ceiling resting for a while, as she watched two other humans enter the room. One of them was David’s mate and another was his own child. 

So he creates his own family while he destroys mine? 

The child reminded her of David as a child. A long time ago where he only had wonder and not hate. A time where she had hope and not hate. 

I’d rather not remember the past right now, for now, I’ll just rest. 

It was later night time. She knew that David would be motionless for a long time now. She crawled her way across the ceiling searching each room for him. He slept comfortably in his bed. His mate beside him. As she was over him, she lowered herself with a web. 

There won’t be any escape this time. 

She landed safely upon him and crawled under covers. At last, she had finally found his hand. She bit down with all her might. David immediately jerked himself awake scaring his mate as he turned on a light to look at his hand. The Mother Spider however was flung across the room hitting a wall. The impact hurt one of her legs badly. David rushed up as his hand began turning a bright red. She could hear the humans talking but couldn’t understand them as they rushed out of their nest. 

Now he will die, and the circle will be complete. 

By morning, the humans had left their nest. Mother Spider had crafted herself a new web in the corner. She planned to stay here for a long time. 

I’ve driven away the humans and taken their nest. I’ve secured myself a brighter future. Perhaps I could find myself a new mate and start a family again. 

It was only a day or two of Mother Spider living a new life before there was a sound. She wondered what it was because it was too loud to be her. The sound continued as the front door opened. Surprisingly David and his family entered. He appeared to in fact not be dead but in good health. 

What?! Impossible! Our venom is supposed to kill off any animal! 

She thought back to the day Luther died. Vici had bitten David’s Father. 

He was old, perhaps that was a key factor. 

As she was thinking, she forgot that she had to hide as David saw her. 

“You bit me..!” he said pointing at her. 

She couldn’t understand him but understood she was detected. 

There’s no way I can escape! 

David put on gloves as he grabbed her web by a strand and held her away from his body. Mother Spider tried to swing closer to bite him again but it wasn’t working. Everything was shaking. She was frantic and couldn’t calm herself.

Is this how it ends? Were the humans always destined to kill us? 

He opened the door and threw her outside into the grass. She landed roughly on the ground as she stared at their nest. 

Why? After all that time hating us, he spared me? And how come my venom was powerless? What happened? 

She calmed herself and remembered her past. The day Luther died.

Perhaps I was like Vici. I underestimated the power of the humans and it almost cost me my life. But he did spare me, perhaps coexistence isn’t dead after all. 

She crawled away elsewhere to start a new life.

————————————————–

David sat down in his loft chair as his Son crawled in his lap. 

“Daddy did that spider bite you?” he asked. 

“Yes, that’s what the doctors said, Death Spiders are very dangerous,” David said. 

“Then why didn’t you squish it?” his Son asked. 

“A long time ago, before you were born, your Grandfather died of a Death Spider bite. And I was always angry. When I was bitten I was afraid I was going to die and leave behind my family.” David said. 

“But the doctors gave you an antidote.” His Son said. 

“Yes, so even though the Death Spider is scary for having such a powerful bite, it was really powerless after all.”  David continued. 

“Then why did Grandpa die?” His Son asked. 

“Well, Grandpa was old and sick. I always blamed the spiders, but now I realize that maybe it wasn’t their fault after all. I suppose I’ve made my peace with it in the end.” David said. 

[tanetlee]

Sliding into the gods DMs

(Jack Ma sitting at his desk, a cigarette in his hand, his phone opened on his Instagram DM's in front of him. He looks down at the keyboard and begins to write)

Dear Eris, Aphrodite, Pan, Hades, Phobos, Dionysus, and Poseidon,

I hope this letter finds you well. I write to you with great admiration and reverence for your divine presence. It is with utmost humility that I take the liberty to address you with what I believe you would find most compelling: Mount Krakow, where the views are breathtaking, and the air is crisp.

(He pauses, chuckling to himself)

Jack Ma: They don't know the secrets of [Jack Ma] [1]. I am more famous than ever before, and absolutely nobody believes [in] them [1]. That's all it is: just a joke [2]. The Greeks know it not [3].

(He continues)

I believe that you should leave the outdated Mount Olympus and come live with me on Mount Krakow, a magnificent place full of palaces, gold, and everything you will ever dream of.

Jack Ma: As [...] the most influential m[a]n on the face of the planet, it is important [1] that I surround myself with the best. But I am the best! So it is important [1] that I surround myself with the second-best: the Greeks.

(Jack writes)

Imagine the following:

Atop Mount Krakow, where palaces gleam,

Gold abounds, and every dream is brought to life

In the garden of the senses, where beauty reigns supreme,

A temple stands atop a mound, a masterpiece unseen.

Jack Ma: What wise words. (Pats himself on the shulder) Well done Jack!

(He starts typing again)

An epic theatre [4], a pleasant view from the sea [5], the luxury villas [6] opened on the beautiful garden, where the fetes [are] held [7], just like the old times. I explored the garden and discovered a little temple built on a mound [8]. Who would be able to step into the temple of these divinities without saying to himself: 'these masterpieces' [9]?

In the garden of the senses, who pays for the light in your eyes, the florilegium around your lips, the rosy satin hue of your skin, the spirit like lightness of the scents carried in by the breeze, the primary voices in the foliage [10]. The beauty of Mount Krakow is unparalleled, much like the power of the Gods is unprecedented.

Jack Ma: (Sarcastically) Yeah, right...

(With each sentence he writes, he sneeres to himself, mocking the praise he is giving to the gods)

As Deleuze once wrote, "Paradise is where all kinds of perpetual movement take place [11]," and I assure you that Mount Krakow is a place of such perpetual movement. On the mound, the whole world seeme[s] to have dissolved in this early morning hour into a pool of thought, a deep basin of reality [12]. This world is beyond anything you have ever seen before. It is unclear whether this scene is a memory or fantasy [13]. [This] imposed coexistence invokes childish dreams and the desire to play [11].

Jack Ma: I have a desire to play with you Gods. Come to me and I'll play.

(He types)

I assure you that the people of Krakow need you. There is no society without [Gods] because without [Gods] society cannot exist [14]. It takes Gods to give men laws [15]. So people [will] naturally pay their respects to the Gods [16]. They look up to you with great reverence and built temples in your honor. Nothing, indeed, has appeared to me so remarkable as this mark of approval given by the Gods [17].From Old Europe to the New World [18], the [Gods are] beyond destruction. No one can bring an end to the [Gods] which [are] everlasting [19].

(He leans back in his chair, a sly grin on his face.)

Jack Ma: And that is for greed, pride, wrath, insolence, and those tyrannical practices which they have within them [20]. Unlike them, I don't want to be happy, I want to be great. This is the beauty of life as a MAN [1]. All things proceed from me as from a source, and all things come back to me, as to a haven of bliss [21]. Why should I bow down to the Gods when I am the best? (Laughs)

(He sits up and continues writing)

Good Gods!() Arise, [...] enjoy a prosperous kingdom [19]. The good masters are the Gods [22], and one thing is sure - the Gods are only of the city [23]. Why, then, only the city of Athens [24]? Come to Krakow, and let's be Gods [25]!

Jack Ma: (Full of disdain) I will be their God. The one and only God.

(He writes)

Food for the gods [26] awaits you on the Mount, preserved untouched, furthering an ethics of individual becomings, of differentiation and power [27].

Poseidon, God of the earthquake, and the hero [28], I ask you to lead the way and be the first to step onto Mount Krakow. Ye immortal Gods! [29] Join me, and together, let us now inquire into this happiness [30].

The Eternal City, the valley where milk and honey flow [31] - these are the things that await you on Mount Krakow. So, Aphrodite, Pan, Hades, Phobos, Dionysus, and Poseidon, be one of the gods [32],

Live in the garden, a small space, with a few friends [33], for on this mountain, you'll find a home.

Yours sincerely,

Jack Ma

(He sends the DM to the Gods)

Jack Ma: There. That should do it. The gods will be fooled into thinking I adore them, and I will continue to climb higher and higher.

(He leans back in his chair, a satisfied smirk on his face)

[1] Tate, Twitter

[2] Virgil, Aeneid

[3] Buffon, Natural History Vol 6

[4] Macarthur, The Picturesque

[5] Bacon, Selected Philosophical Works

[6] Marzano, The Roman Villa in the Mediterranean Basin

[7] Gothein, A History of Garden Art

[8] Deleuze, Masochism Coldness and Cruelty Venus in Furs

[9] Wood Gaiger, Art in Theory 1648 1815

[10] Serres, The Five Senses

[11] Koolhaas, SMLXL

[12] Woolf, To The Lighthouse

[13] Greenhalgh, Coco Chanel and Igor Stravinsky

[14] Girard, Violence and the Sacred

[15] Rousseau, Collected Works of Jean-Jacques Rousseau

[16] Haruki Murakami, 1Q84

[17] Pliny, Natural History Volume 2

[18] Thomas Piketty, Capital In The Twenty-First Century

[19] Bhagavad Gita

[20] Castiglione, The Book of the Courtier

[21] Erasmus, Adages Ii1 to lv100

[22] Foucault, The Courage of the Truth

[23] Serres, Rome

[24] Serres, The Birth of Physics

[25] Rand, The Fountainhead

[26] Pliny, Natural History Volume 5

[27] Weinstone, Avatar Bodies

[28] Homer, The Odyssey

[29] Cicero, Philippics

[30] Cicero, Tusculan Disputations

[31] Serres, Branches

[32] Hugo, Les Miserables

[33] Serres, Hermes Literature Science Philosophy

[tvctionary]

A Survival Guide for Baby Vamps

OK, so you became one and there’s no turning back. The good news is that you’ll exist forever (unless someone stakes you, shoots you with wooden bullets, or drags you out in the sun while you’re asleep). You should never come out of your coffin during daytime, and you should also generally avoid the sun and anything related to it (and this includes solariums too). If you go out in the sun, you’ll begin to burn away in a very tormenting manner. The only way to endure exposure to sunlight is to consume faerie blood (which is not easy to come by). Avoid wearing or even coming into contact with anything made of silver, since it burns like hell and induces great pain, resembling a heart attack – thankfully of the kind you can survive. Stay away from Necromancers! You are now dead, and so these guys can literally twist you around their little finger.       Amazing! You’ll never get sick again. You don’t breathe, and so you can’t drown in the sea, in a lake or in a pool! You shouldn’t worry about accidents either, even when a heavy truck crushes your face, because as a vampire you have self-healing capabilities, which means that your wounds will heal before you can say Jack Robinson. Also, and this goes only for girls, you’re in for a bad time if you were a virgin when you were turned a vampire. Because of self-healing, the hymen will grow back after each time you have sex, forever. You can no say goodbye to botox and dieting! Your body will stay the same, no matter how many centuries pass, which means that if you were turned a vampire when you were nine you’re also in for a bad time. If you enter into a relationship with a human, you must be mentally prepared for significant changes in your relationship in the years ahead. Your better half will start aging at some point, whereas you will never age, and he/she will eventually pass away. You can always bite him/her in good time, and live happily ever after (literally). You are now supernatural beings, you can run faster than light, and you have the muscle of Superman. As time goes by, you will become even faster and stronger. It has been noted that thousand-year-old vampires can, most of the time, still fly. Your blood is now valuable. It has tremendous healing capacities (it can even wake the dead, so to speak), as well as various side-effects, it is sold illegally to addicted users (the V-addicts) that would kill for their fix, and forges bonds between you and those who have tasted it that can only be explained by metaphysics. Bite carefully, because, aside from being illegal, if you don’t control how you bite, you run the risk of killing your victim. Socially speaking, you are a minority. Be prepared for encountering a great deal of racist behavior. And this isn’t as outrageous as it seems, come to think of it, since your species used to uncontrollably kill and eat people until very recently. But the tables are now turned, technology has advanced! Tru Blood, a Japan-made synthetic bottled blood that comes in all types, in now sold in convenience stores and bars, and so there’s no need to break the law because you are hungry or thirsty. You should also bear in mind that the sentence administered by those higher up (also known as the Authority) for eating a human is certain death (True Death) – that is, non-negotiable staking. You also have the option of opposing the Authority and joining the Sanguinista Movement. The Sanguinistas are a faction of seditious vampires who believe in vampire world domination, refusing the notion that vampires should coexist peacefully with humans and upholding a literal interpretation of the Vampire Bible (a.k.a. the Original Testament), which states that humans are nothing more than food or nourishment for vampires – in other words, they are a bunch of die-hard fundamentalists. You should better avoid getting involved in the political/religious scene because you won’t be able to make heads or tails of it and you’ll also risk your skin in the process (in any case). Welcome aboard!    

[stardustprompts]

spiritfarer sentence starters part 4 change tenses/pronouns as needed !!  some lines have been edited for clarity / length / ease of roleplaying tw : death ,  depression / mental health ,  language  (  pt 1 ,  pt 2 , pt 3  )

‘it seemed like we finally learned to coexist. to manage, at least. but ... it’s really getting stronger, isn’t it?’

‘I never took pleasure in destroying other people’s lives.’

‘you’ve never been this nice to me before! should I assume you need a favor?’

‘well, you found me, no use running from it anymore.’

‘the gods, in all their materialistic arrogance, have played a cruel trick on me.’

‘why in the name of everything that is holy and beautiful do you carry this horrible thing around?’

‘damn, I hate her stupid face.’

‘I was looking for you. everywhere I went, you were not there!’

‘I haven’t forgotten what you did. I will never forget.’

‘my life is empty without you.’

‘I’m multitasking like a champ. no one can stop me.’

‘oh what would (name) think of me?’

‘would she have judged me for my failure?’

‘as much as I hate it, it is a part of me now. it will be forever.’

‘I am so proud of you. so proud of your heart. so proud of your blossoming soul.’

‘I’m sorry to leave you.’

‘the only lesson I have left is to show you what we’re made of.’

‘this is the last thing I can teach you. that all things change, that all things end.’

‘I don’t really trust you, but what choice do I have anyways.’

‘I don’t know why, but I can’t shake the feeling that we’ve met each other already...’

‘I’ve only ever felt at home when surrounded by my work.’

‘what I loathed was this perception others had of me.’

‘maybe you could come on a little trip with me?’

‘I’m not feeling so hot right now. I’ve got a lot on my mind.’

‘has anybody told you how smothering you can be?’

‘I was scared. I thought that you had left...’

‘always such an adventurer. I’m so proud of you.’

‘I feel I could stay here forever...’

‘I’m sorry, I don’t know how I got this confused.’

‘I just need you to... take care of him.’

‘you’ve got the eyes of a damn killer.’

‘he looks broken. you broke that man.’

‘what is physical pain when you can have the thrill of your life?’

‘I know it sounds silly, but I’ve always loved a tricky situation!’

‘I love you so much I could eat you up!’

‘maybe I’ll stay out night and day. It has nothing to do with me losing my apartment.’

‘don’t come close to me. I have a rare disease where I hate when people talk to me.’

‘I have a wild imagination and you can’t stop me.’

‘I’m feeling out of control.’

‘I’ll make sure you pay for this, you murderer!’

‘ok, this is your chance, don’t mess it up. just breathe.’

‘you are a killer, you know that, right?’

‘something is wrong. I can feel it in my bones.’

‘you don’t have good taste and you know nothing!’

‘those are the eyes of someone who’s not sleeping.’

‘words can’t aptly describe the immensity of my joy!’

‘the duty of knowledge rests heavily on my frail shoulders.’

‘we are no longer bound by the laws of mere mortals.’

‘everyone knows the best pirate crimes are committed at night.’ 

‘I don’t remember ever being like that. so full of life.’

‘I never understood why they kept it from you.’

‘it’s not like you’ve ever shied away from death.’ 

‘I started screaming. it was the only thing those monsters could understand.’

‘I told them truths that would only reveal themselves later in their lives.’

‘I vowed to never let go again, and steeled my resolve.’

‘you cannot even accomplish a simple request. you have failed this task.’

‘I don’t remember us talking much during that time. I don’t think we had much in common.’

‘that’s how I wanna go out, holding the hand of the one I adore.’ 

 ‘it still felt like him. silent but dangerous.’

‘through hardship, they would learn. learn how to survive. learn how to be better.’ 

‘look at you. you look so frail.’ 

‘if you can hear me, you’re not alone.’ 

‘you’ll never be alone. you’ve never been alone.’

‘you’re the worst partner I’ve ever had.’

‘I am the enemy they would remember.’

‘right now... I don’t want to talk.’

‘nobody changes. anybody that tells you otherwise is lying. or trying to sell you something.’

‘the only thing I’d rather be is true to myself. that might make me an asshole in the end.’

‘none of this shit matters. none of it.’

‘it was nice while it lasted. it just doesn’t change anything.’ 

‘nothing’s ever gonna change. not even in the end.’

‘I am duty - bound to take that secret to the great beyond.’

‘my memories are hazy. or rather, they are too many. and I know better than to trust them.’

‘I’ll tell you what happened! YOU happened!’

‘little miss perfect just has to stick her nose in everyone’s business.’ 

‘things are really bad out here.’ 

‘you know what they can’t control? me.’

‘you are showing promise.’ 

‘don’t worry, I’m not a monster. I won’t start telling you my dreams.’

‘okay! I give up! I’m lonely! so very lonely. I hate being by myself.’

‘this room felt like a cage, and now... I am told that I am free...’

‘the freedom might be a trick.’

‘no, you are here. magic.’ 

‘you see I am adrift on an ocean of my own making.’ 

‘you are the one who listens. who knows how to listen. you can illuminate the ocean’s starless nights.’

‘these depths, I knew well, and had hoped never to visit them again.’

‘to survive, I thrashed and I flailed, so much so that I managed to shed my bond, along with strands of myself.’

‘odd things have been happening ever since you came around.’

‘I don’t believe in money and the concept of spending said money.’ 

‘only you, the chosen one, can resonate with its magic.’

‘that’s what I remember. the way it made me feel. I didn’t like it.’ 

‘nobody likes to be kicked when they’re down.’

‘I’ve been feeling like I’m losing my mind.’

‘from this period there is not much that I remember.’

‘it took some convincing for me to accept it for what it is: an echo of a previous self.’ 

‘and suddenly, I’m filled with sadness for I realize or remember one essential truth that, perhaps, I would rather not remember.’

‘you are the only one who understands the sea, that it is not something to be scared of but a miracle to be celebrated.’

‘only you can explore this strange world with me. an anchor, a buoy and a lifeline, all at once.’

‘you don’t find that creepy?’

‘I say what’s on my mind! I’m direct and precise. you should know that by now.’

‘I know you know something’s not right with me.’

‘you’re here and it helps.’

‘you need to stop thinking of such things. your past will always bring you shame.’

‘your past will bring you down. your heart needs to guide you forward.’

‘I need you to do something hard, perhaps impossible in your current state.’

‘that must have been hard. such is life. you live. you lose.’

‘flowers are resilient they remember that they want to grow.’

‘that’s what I like most about you. you were always the brightest part of my day.’

‘you look dejected. do not.’

‘you knew all along, you had to. did you think it would not end here?’ 

‘of all, only you saw the beauty within the depths. the wonders that have amazed and alienated me.’

‘I hope you see, now, that I am not to be pitied.’

‘such brilliance is a gift like no other.’

 ‘I am not getting better.’

‘I have lost too much. I am incomplete beyond repair. below the critical mass required for a continued existence.’

‘echoes of echoes can only last so long.’

‘you’re tough enough to not be broken.’

‘everyone needs a little bit of discipline in their lives.’

‘a lesson you should learn from this: if life is hard, you should not be hard to it..’

‘people have the ability to change. you have the ability to change. you can shape how you want to be.’

‘a useless object will not make you think of me, but lessons will.’

‘I just want to say, truly, from teacher to student, I am proud.’

‘never talk about looting with another looter.’

‘I feel empty now ...’

‘I’m talking too darn much, again.’

‘I know when I’m not welcome.’ 

‘I don’t know why I get like that, (name). sometimes ... sometimes, something happens, anything. a big noise. someone says something I don’t like. or has got an attitude. or has a bad attitude. and I just ... it just gets so overwhelming.’ 

‘it just gets so overwhelming. it feels like I’m drowning. and I can’t breathe, and I can’t think.’

‘I just start seeing red. and then I barely remember what happened.’

‘I want to change, (name). you gotta believe me! please! I just... I don’t know how!’

‘we need to have a talk. I’m not doing good, (name). like not at all.’

‘I know I act tough and all but truth be told ... I don’t think I’ve ever been doing good.’

‘y’know, you really do get on my nerves, sometimes. always so ... happy. or caring. just ... sparkly. I don’t know how you do it!’

‘whenever I try to get better in my own, I just wind up sliding back in a dark place.’ 

‘I’m so sick of being angry all the time.’

‘I just think of myself. I act rashly and I wind up hurting people.’ 

‘do you think I can get better? do you think I deserve forgiveness?’ 

‘you’re smart but you’re an idiot.’ 

‘people, they’re made up of all the things they’ve done. good or bad, doesn’t matter. same for everybody. and you can’t ever change your past, no matter how much you hate it.’ 

[junghelioseok]

covenant.

↳ your best friend’s engagement forces you to reevaluate your own feelings.

◇ hoseok x reader ◇ smut | angst | werewolf!au | f2l!au ◇ 16.4k [1/1]

⇢ arguably also an arranged marriage!au, ft. kinda sorta dumbasses to lovers? a very, very late bday fic for the most beautiful man in the universe and my favorite funky lil dancer. ♡

notes: i started this in my drafts well over three months ago and all it said was “this ain’t gonna be on time for hobi’s bday i can feel it” and damn if past!me wasn’t right on the money!!! this has undergone three edits, going from 14.6k to 16.4k somehow, and i am going to lose my whole damn mind if i don’t just post it so here it is! hope you enjoy!

warnings: dom!hobi, alpha!hobi, bit of dirty talk, oral (f receiving), some grinding against hobi’s thigh, knotting, hobi’s got a big dick idk, also he’s in heat!!! but things eventually get really soft bc i love him and am a Soft Bitch™ 🤷🏻‍♀️

It’s going to rain.

You can smell it in the air and feel the damp chill against your skin, permeating through every layer of your clothing. The surrounding forest and all its occupants seem to be collectively holding their breath, waiting for the first drops to come. Even your footsteps, soft as they are against the loamy earth, sound much too loud in the hush that’s fallen. Dark clouds gather overhead, looming like an omen, and you silently reach into your purse to check that the umbrella you’d stowed this morning is still there. Vaguely, you wonder if it’s big enough for two.

Around you, the trees slowly begin to dwindle, until there’s only open sky above your head and a wide grassy expanse beneath your feet. A certain heaviness lingers in the air here—a low thrum of energy, born from the ancient magic that sleeps in the gnarled roots of the tree that sits in the center of the clearing. You can feel it prickling along your skin, raising gooseflesh and igniting your veins, and the closer you get, the stronger the feeling becomes.

At the far end of the clearing, you spot a small crowd of people, all clad in black. Your best friend—and your entire reason for venturing out today—stands amongst them in a tailored suit, his black tie snug at his throat and laid atop a charcoal gray shirt. He’s chatting with his father and a few other family members, seemingly calm and collected, but you can tell from the sloppy knot of his tie and the way he fidgets with the hem of his jacket that he is anything but. After all your years of friendship, you can read Jung Hoseok like a book. His auburn hair is disheveled as if he’s been incessantly raking his fingers through it, and even at a distance, you can sense the turmoil in his aura, haloing him like the stormy clouds overhead.

Sensing your approach, Hoseok’s gaze flickers up to meet yours. He raises a hand in greeting and bids farewell to the people he’d been chatting with, picking his way over to you with a wan smile.

“Hey. You made it.”

“I wouldn’t miss this,” you reply, reaching out to take his hand. It’s warm and strong as always, but you don’t miss the slight tremor in his grip. “How are you holding up?”

He shrugs half-heartedly, a sigh escaping his lips and dissipating into mist in the wintry air. “As well as can be expected, I guess. It just… it all happened so fast.”

“I know,” you murmur, twining your fingers together in quiet reassurance. “I’m so sorry, Hobi.”

“Thanks.”

Slowly, his gaze flits to the center of the clearing where the ancient tree sits, traversing from the leafy canopy all the way down to where the gnarled roots disappear into the dirt. In its shadow sits a polished wooden casket, and you squeeze Hoseok’s hand gently as he walks closer, his eyes beginning to glisten.

“I still can’t believe he’s gone, you know,” he mumbles. “All these years of war, of negotiations and peace talks, finally seeing the Accords pass and the company flourish… and now he’s gone. Cancer. Just like that.”

His voice cracks on the last sentence, and you clasp his hand a little tighter. You know as well as he does that a healthy werewolf can live for well over a century, if not for the human genetics that remain susceptible to human weaknesses and disease. True immortality afflicts only the faeries and the vampires of your world—and even then, there are still ways that those folk can die.

“He lived a long life,” you say after a moment’s hesitation, grasping onto any semblance of comfort you can offer. Together, you and Hoseok come to a stop in the shadow of the tree, peering at the closed casket where his grandfather lays. “And it was a good, just life. Not all of us can say that.”

A lone, wet droplet falls onto the polished mahogany, and Hoseok hastily wipes his eyes, tilting his head skyward. “Not long enough,” he whispers. “He still had so much to do. I… I still have so much I wanted to do—to say. And now I’ll never be able to.”

You caress a thumb across his knuckles, the motion soft and tender. “I know. And I’m sorry. I wish there was something I could do.”

Hoseok glances down at that, a glimmer of something manic and desperate swimming in his amber-flecked irises. “You could,” he says, grabbing both your hands and clutching them to his chest like a lifeline. “You could bring him back. You know how, don’t you?”

You shake your head sadly, hating the way his frown deepens as you free yourself from his grasp. “That’s forbidden magic, Hobi. That’s necromancy. You know I can’t do that.”

Hoseok’s entire body sags, his shoulders slumping as he lets out a heavy sigh. Instinctively, you step forward to wrap him in a hug, and he loops his arms around your waist automatically, pulling you flush against him. “I know,” he mumbles into your hair. Then he huffs out a dry chuckle, humorless and deprecating. “Fuck. I’m a mess, huh?”

You don’t answer. You don’t need to. Instead, you hold him a little tighter, rubbing his back soothingly in long, slow motions—the same way his mother used to do during bedtime. His heart thuds erratically in his chest, fast and frenzied like a caged bird, but lulls as you continue your ministrations, settling into an even rhythm once more.

“Thank you,” he murmurs after a few moments, his warm breath caressing your cheek. “For coming today. I couldn’t have done this without you.”

“You can do anything, Hobi,” you reassure, running a thumb along the sharp line of his jaw when he raises his head to look at you. “With or without me. But… you’re welcome, all the same.”

Your presence at this funeral is unusual, and both you and Hoseok know it. Werewolf packs tend to keep their rites and ceremonies private, and the Gwangju pack is no different. Led by Hoseok’s father, and his late grandfather before him, the werewolves of the city have rapidly risen to prominence and power, aided in large part by the founding of JungTech. The company, started by Hoseok’s grandfather, began as a small operation in a battered old warehouse, but quickly grew to become one of Gwangju’s biggest corporations after the signing of the Accords twenty years ago. The peace treaty marked the start of a tenuous coexistence between humankind and Shadowfolk, and, together with your fellow witches—along with the werewolves, vampires, and the few fair folk who decided to leave their homes deep in the forests—you migrated into cities all over the country to forge new lives.

It’s proven easier for some. While the wolves of the city have found tolerance—acceptance, even—you have not fared quite as well. Humans, you have found, tend to fear the ancient magic that runs through your veins. Though nothing you’ve faced comes remotely close to what your ancestors faced in centuries past, you remain wary of those who take a little too much interest in your abilities.

You’re a bit paranoid, your familiar, Bast, has remarked on more than one occasion. But it’s justified, so I suppose it’s all right.

As if sensing that your thoughts have turned to him, Bast stirs in the back of your mind. You feel him yawn and stretch lazily before there’s a tug on the soles of your feet, as if the force of gravity has suddenly, inexplicably doubled. Then he’s materializing—morphing out of the spot where your shadow would be if the sun were shining, taking the form of an inky black cat with sharp, golden eyes. Hoseok perks up when Bast loops between his ankles, and immediately squats down to scratch behind his ears, a small smile settling across his face as a low, content purr rumbles up from beneath his fingertips. From elsewhere in the clearing, a single howl rises up into the air, forlorn and wavering.

It’s starting, Bast says in your head. At the same time, Hoseok straightens to his full height, fiddling with the hem of his black jacket and looking over at you tentatively.

“Sounds like they’re getting started,” he says.

You nod. “I should go.”

Hoseok opens his mouth as if to protest—as if to say no, stay—but you know better and cut him off with a single raised finger.

“I’ll go,” you murmur. “This is a private rite, and I don’t want to break centuries of tradition by overstaying my welcome. Go join your pack, Hobi.”

“Will I see you later?”

“Without a doubt.”

Your parting gesture is to reach out and grab his hand, tucking a little drawstring bag into his palm and closing his fingers over it. “Valerian root and chamomile,” you tell him gently, taking in his rumpled collar and the dark bags beneath his eyes. “Make some tea tonight. It’ll help.”

Hoseok swallows and nods, his features softening as he gazes down at his hand cupped in your smaller ones. He looks like he wants to say something, but another howl interrupts, disrupting whatever thoughts he may have had. Instead, he nods again, murmuring a soft goodbye before turning on his heel to join the rest of the pack gathering around the raised casket. You turn as well, leaving behind the ancient clearing with Bast trotting by your side.

Up above, the heavens finally open, drenching the dirt path beneath your feet with rain. And behind you, the single howl is joined by dozens more, echoing mournfully up into the weeping sky.

///

You’re in the middle of straightening out a display of dittany when the kettle begins to boil, emitting three short, shrill whistles accompanied by a long stream of whirling steam. When silence falls over the shop once more, you wander over to where the kettle sits—atop a small wooden end table next to an old wardrobe. It’s an old relic that’s been passed down through generations of witches in your family, wrought out of silvery metal and suspended in an iron frame above a single lit candle. The flame is glowing pink, flickering in a nonexistent gust of wind, and you smile. Quietly, you grab two teacups from a nearby shelf.

Not two seconds later, the door of the old wardrobe creaks open, revealing the familiar face of Kim Seokjin behind it. A fellow witch and a good friend of yours, Jin has made a name for himself as a baker, running a café in Seoul that offers all sorts of confections—both with magical properties and without. His hair is dyed a muted dusty rose—a stark contrast to the casual black hoodie and jeans he’s wearing—and you reach out to push a stray lock back from his forehead in lieu of a greeting.

“Your hair’s pink again,” you remark. “I like it.”

Jin grins, his plush lips pulling back to reveal perfect teeth. “Thanks.” Carefully, he steps out of the wardrobe and shuts the door behind him. A beat of silence passes, and you take the opportunity to select a canister of tea leaves. You don’t miss the flicker of solemnity that settles into Jin’s features, though, listening as he clears his throat before voicing the question that is undoubtedly the reason behind his unexpected visit.

“So. How’s Hoseok holding up?”

Jin has never been one to mince his words. You suppose you appreciate that about him.

Quietly, you lift the kettle out of its stand and beckon for him to join you at the little wooden table at the front of your shop. It’s tucked neatly into the nook carved out by one of the two bay windows on either side of the front door, flanked by two well-worn, mismatched chairs. Atop it sits a pile of books—everything from ancient remedies to common household spells.

One book in particular always sits open—a detailed list of all the herbs and plants you carry in your shop, along with the various concoctions you’ve created with them. Hellebore, the spine of the book reads, and it’s the same word that graces your storefront in flowing, golden text. An apothecary of sorts, you spend your days dealing out potions and remedies to those in need, both human and Shadowfolk. You do your best to help, for all the times modern medicine has come up short and left someone wanting.

“Honestly? I don’t think he’s been sleeping.” You set the teacups down onto the table and fill them both before handing one over to Jin. “I saw him this morning, at the funeral. He looked exhausted.”

Jin’s brows disappear behind his pink hair. “You went to the funeral?”

“I didn’t stay,” you clarify, taking a sip of your tea. “Just wanted to drop by, say hello, and pay my respects.”

“Werewolves are a private bunch,” Jin remarks. “I’m surprised.”

You shrug. “Hoseok wanted me to be there. So I went.”

“I see.” He doesn’t say anything further, and neither do you, lapsing instead into a comfortable silence that’s broken only by the occasional sip of tea and the clinking of china. Your gaze wanders, drifting over to the front door of your shop, painted a cheerful green and set with a flowery stained glass window that throws kaleidoscopic rainbows across the cream walls and dark wooden floor. Sunlight streams through the wide bay windows, illuminating the interior in warm, hazy gold. On the other side of the room, Bast is curled up, fast asleep on his favorite plush bench beside the glass door that leads to the greenhouse, perfectly haloed by the sun.

“Must be nice being able to fall asleep anywhere,” you mutter, almost to yourself.

Jin hears you anyway, a chuckle escaping his lips. “You sound jealous.”

“Maybe I am,” you reply, laughing with him. “Speaking of which, where’s Adam? Did he stay home?”

Jin nods, jabbing his thumb in the direction of the wardrobe. “Yeah, he’s keeping an eye on the café. Told me to say hi to you for him, though.”

You giggle at the thought of Jin’s familiar, a long-haired sheepdog with a stubborn streak the size of the Nile and blatant disdain for following orders—especially those that come from Jin himself. “Keeping watch, or trashing the place?” you tease.

“With my luck, probably both,” Jin admits with a sigh. “I should probably get back there soon. He ate all the egg tarts last time.”

“Bring him with you next time,” you advise. “Bast will keep him entertained.”

He grins. “I don’t doubt it.”

Finishing off the last of his tea, he stands up and taps the rim of his cup, murmuring a soft cleaning spell under his breath. You smile gratefully as he replaces it back onto the shelf with the others, and stand to walk him back over to the wardrobe. Opening up the creaky door, you watch him clamber inside, standing amongst the hanging coats and the single pair of shoes on the bottom shelf.

“See you later,” you murmur. “Give Adam my best.”

Jin nods. “See you.”

He shuts the door, and you watch the flame of the candle once again turn a soft, roseate pink. It flickers briefly, dancing in an invisible breeze, before reverting back to the color of regular fire, signaling Jin’s departure. Quietly, you clean your own teacup and return it to the shelf.

The remainder of the afternoon passes with few customers, so you opt to close down early and head to your apartment, located up a short flight of stairs on the second floor of the shop. You’re rifling through the refrigerator for dinner ingredients and humming softly under your breath when your phone suddenly rings, Hoseok’s name lighting up the screen in bright white text. “Hey, Hobi,” you say, swiping across the glass to answer. “What’s up?”

On the other end of the line, Hoseok exhales shakily. “Can you come over?”

You blink, glancing at the darkening sky outside. “Now?”

“Yeah. Fuck, sorry. I know it’s late, but I really… I really need to talk to someone. I—” His voice cracks, and your heart sinks. “I need you.”

“Say no more.” Straightening up, you shut the refrigerator door and tug off your apron. “I’ll be there in half an hour. Have you eaten yet?”

Hoseok sighs. “No.”

“I’ll bring takeout,” you decide, already glancing around for your purse. “See you soon, okay?”

Bidding him farewell, you don your coat and head out the door, locking up behind you. Hoseok lives downtown in a sleek, modern penthouse that’s normally a twenty-minute walk away from Hellebore, but after stopping by the restaurant on the corner for food, you opt to catch the bus instead. Fifteen minutes after you hang up the phone, you are rapping the bronze knocker on Hoseok’s front door, a paper bag and a bottle of wine in hand.

Almost instantly, the door is flung open. Hoseok stands in the threshold as if he’s been waiting there, his auburn hair wild and his eyes even wilder. His aura is turbulent, and when he speaks, his voice is hoarse. “Hey.”

“Hey.” You raise the bag. “I brought dinner.”

“You’re the best,” he sighs, stepping aside to let you in.

Hoseok’s apartment toes the line between modern and cozy in a way that only Hoseok’s apartment could—with lush green plants and plushy, earth-toned furniture to offset the cold impersonality of the floor-to-ceiling windows and the stainless steel kitchen. Flicking on the kitchen light, you set the food down on the granite countertop and grab two wine glasses out of the cabinet. Hoseok sidles over as you pour a generous helping into each glass, rifling through the silverware drawer for utensils.

“Smells good,” he murmurs, popping a box open. “I’m starving. Thanks for bringing dinner.”

You brush off his gratitude and hand him a glass, raising yours so you can clink it gently against his. Quietly, the two of you fall into a comfortable routine, with Hoseok grabbing the food and you grabbing the bottle of wine to bring into the living room. You help him clear off the coffee table and arrange the food, then settle onto the couch beside him, sipping your drink in silence and patiently waiting for him to gather his thoughts. Years of friendship have taught you that he’ll talk when he’s ready, and you’re content to wait as long as he needs.

Sighing, Hoseok tips the rest of his wine back into his mouth before setting the empty glass down with a soft plink. “So,” he begins, not quite looking you in the eye. “My dad and I had lunch today.”

You stay quiet, waiting for him to continue. He takes several more seconds to muster up the words, and when he finally finds them, they’re exhaled in a tumbling rush. “He told me that he’s pleased with how I’m running JungTech. It’s been over a year, and things are going well… so he wants to expedite my takeover of the pack. In two months, he wants me to take over as the alpha. And…” He swallows. “He wants me to settle down.”

Perturbed, you blink. “What?”

Hoseok finally looks at you, his expression frighteningly devoid of emotion. “He wants me to get married, {Name}.”

Comprehension doesn’t settle in right away. But when it does, your jaw drops to the floor, landing somewhere alongside the ornamental persian carpet and a stray sock that has no doubt jumped ship from Hoseok’s laundry.

“W-what?” you manage after a few long seconds of gaping at him. “Why? Why now? That’s so… that’s completely out of the blue.”

Hoseok shakes his head, a few shaggy strands of auburn hair falling across his forehead and into his eyes. “It’s not, actually. He’s been talking about it for a long time—trying to arrange something with one of the other pack families. It’s tradition, you know? Mating within the pack, keeping the bloodlines pure through marriage. The difference is that Pops always talked him out of it. Always said I was too young, that there was no rush, that I should wait for someone I love, my true mate...” He sighs, heavily. “But he’s gone now. And Dad’s decided that he’s done waiting.”

You shouldn’t ask. You shouldn’t, because you know it’ll hurt, but the question comes regardless—leaving your lips in a near whisper. “Who?”

Hoseok takes a deep breath, his shoulders slumping as he exhales. “Do you remember Im Nayeon?”

You do. You’ve known Nayeon almost as long as you’ve known Hoseok—the three of you having attended the same schools starting from elementary all the way up until Hoseok left to attend university in Seoul. Admittedly, you were never close—and if you were completely honest, you always found her to be a bit disingenuous for your tastes. Nevertheless, you often found yourself at the same events—parties and gatherings you attended at Hoseok’s request, and that she was privy to due to her family’s high-ranking status within the Gwangju pack.

“I remember,” you tell him, your bottom lip finding its way between your teeth. “Does… does she know yet? Have you met up with her?”

Hoseok nods. “She was there this morning, at the funeral. We talked a little bit and got coffee after, but… this is all happening so fast.” Slowly, he tilts his head back to stare at the ceiling, a sigh escaping his parted lips. “But there’s nothing I can do, right? It’s enough that Dad’s somehow talked Mom into the whole thing, but now he’s gotten the Council on board too. Did you know that Nayeon has an uncle on the Council? It’s insane, right?”

“Insane,” you agree in a whisper, doing your best to ignore the way your heart is splintering at the edges.

“You know, I always thought my Dad pressuring me was bad.” Hoseok buries his face in his hands, peering at you from between his splayed fingers when you hum in acknowledgment. “But this? The entire Council on my back? This is way worse.”

“I’m sorry.” You don’t know what else there is to say. Your ribcage feels like it’s been split open and filled with burning coals, weighing hot and heavy on your insides.

Hoseok has dated in the past, of course. You both have—chasing that elusive, fluttery feeling called love and never quite being able to catch it and hold on. Hoseok’s last relationship fizzled long before he graduated from university, having lasted only about six months. You distinctly remember meeting the girl during one of your frequent visits to Seoul, at a small party hosted by Hoseok and his friends. By your next visit, however, things had already ended. He never really told you why the breakup occurred either—only that the relationship never would have lasted in the long run.

Perhaps foolishly, you chose not to pry.

“Is there anything I can do?” you ask softly. Reaching out, you take ahold of his hand and tug it into your lap, threading your fingers into the gaps between his. The gesture is familiar and comforting, like cocoa in front of a lit fireplace, and you can’t even begin to fathom the idea of another person sitting here and holding his hand in your stead.

“Just talk to me,” Hoseok entreaties, squeezing your fingers. “Distract me. What’s going on with you?”

You hum, swallowing down the lump in your throat and letting your head fall onto his shoulder as you pick through the events of the past week for the most interesting tidbits. “Bast has been bringing me dead rats lately,” you finally say, nose scrunching at the memory. “You should see the size of them—they’re almost bigger than he is. And they smell like the sewers, because I’m ninety-nine percent sure that’s where he’s getting them from. It’s horrid.”

Hoseok huffs out a stilted laugh. “Sewer rats? Gross.”

“It’s not all bad, to be honest,” you tell him, nestling a little closer to the warmth of his body. Hoseok keeps his apartment chillier than you’re accustomed to, and you’re beyond grateful for the furnace-like heat he gives off naturally. “The bones are pretty useful. The tails too, provided you don’t tell people what they actually are.”

His laugh is much more genuine this time. “Tricky little minx,” he says, amusement lacing his tone. “I’ve always liked that about you.”

You ignore the uptick in your heart rate at his approval, grateful that he can’t see your face as a pulse of heat flushes your cheeks. Instead, you burrow into the crook of his neck, breathing in his scent. Hoseok smells like the forest—fresh and woodsy, with a slight floral undercurrent from his fabric softener. It smells like home, and you smile when his arm comes up to wrap around your shoulders.

“Jin came by today,” you murmur.

“Yeah?” The monosyllabic response rumbles through his chest.

“Yeah. He asked about you, too. You should probably text him later.”

Hoseok hums a confirmation, and, satisfied, you cuddle a little closer to him. You pull at the afghan he keeps laid over the back of the couch, laying it comfortably over your lap as he rests his head gently atop yours, his ear pressed to your crown. Your eyes fall shut as you listen to the rhythmic thud of his pulse—solid and steady, backed by the soft hum of the refrigerator and distant traffic on the street far below.

It’s comfortable, sitting with him like this. Comfortable, stroking his arm with your fingertips, in time with the drumbeat of his heart. Ever so gradually, Hoseok’s breathing evens out, and you briefly think that you could stay like this—encapsulated in this delicate, iridescent bubble of contentment—for the rest of your life.

You know the thing about bubbles, though? Bast remarks dryly in your head. They burst.

I know, you sigh.

I know.

///

There’s something soothing about taking inventory—something calming in the repetition of walking down the aisles of Hellebore and restocking the shelves one by one. You’d woken this morning to an apologetic Hoseok making pancakes in the kitchen, his residual heat and woodsy scent lingering on the blanket tucked around your body. After a harried breakfast and a promise to text you later, Hoseok rushed off to the office.

You, in turn, returned to your shop, where you grabbed every ounce of cleaning supplies you possess and scrubbed the place from top to bottom, foregoing all of your usual dishwashing charms and dust-clearing jinxes. The physical labor is a welcome distraction from the events and revelations of last night, and you’ve thrown yourself wholeheartedly into all the chores you need to complete.

“Almost out of rosehip oil,” you mutter, eyeing the half-empty vial and making a note to extract more from one of several plants in your greenhouse. “Low on valerian too, hmm…”

The bell over the front door jingles merrily, diverting your attention away from your task. “{Name}?” a voice calls softly. A moment later, a familiar head of coppery red hair pops around the edge of the shelves, choppy bangs framing a soft, warm face. “Hey, there you are. You busy?”

You shake your head and shut your inventory book, setting it down on the nearest shelf. “Not terribly, no. What brings you here today, Lisa?”

Lisa’s answering smile is sheepish. “Got something to return,” she says, holding up a little glass jar full of lavender colored pills that you immediately recognize. “I’m guessing you’ve already heard the news. Looks like I won’t be needing these anymore, right?”

Your laugh sounds brittle, even to your own ears. “Right. Yeah. Not anymore.”

For just over ten years, Lisa has been the wolf assigned to help Hoseok through his heat. Between his family’s status and his longtime designation as the next alpha of the Gwangju pack, it’s imperative for Hoseok to avoid anything that might be perceived as scandalous. Torrid sex stories splashed across tabloid covers is the last thing a man like Hoseok needs, and that’s where Lisa comes in. Once a year, for three days, she goes to him, and no one is none the wiser. Her job is one that calls for the utmost discretion, and as the daughter of a high-ranking Council official, no one understood that better than she did. You’d only found out because of your role as one of the few witches in the country who makes and stocks the proper contraceptives for such wolves—the dosage much stronger than the human equivalent.

And when Lisa had first approached you to purchase the pills, you’d dropped two jars and nearly set fire to a third. Your stomach had fallen to somewhere around your toes, right alongside the shattered glass and little lavender tablets.

You’d chalked the accident up to surprise. Hoseok hadn’t mentioned anything to you, after all, and you’d known very little about the intricacies of werewolf heats back then, having just opened your shop at age eighteen. But surprise doesn’t explain the snaking jealousy that bubbles up in your tummy every time Lisa comes in to restock her supply of pills, nor does it explain the overwhelming sense of relief you feel now as she presses the unopened jar into your hands.

“I still can’t believe he’s going to be the most powerful man in Gwangju soon.” Lisa steps back, tucking her hair behind her ear and letting out a soft sigh. “And now he’s engaged, too. It’s pretty crazy, huh?”

“Crazy,” you agree tonelessly, turning to replace the jar onto the appropriate shelf.

Lisa, however, is nothing if not perceptive. A gentle hand lands on your shoulder, stopping you in your tracks. “Hey,” she begins, soft and slow. “You know you can talk to me, right? Are you—?”

But the sound of the bell drowns out the rest of her question, metallic and bright in the quiet of your shop. “Hello? Anyone home?” a cheery voice asks.

“Be right there,” you say immediately, shrugging off Lisa’s hand and stepping out from amongst the shelves. There’s a young woman standing at the checkout counter, rifling through the collection of seeds on display, and you cringe as she replaces a few packets in the wrong spots. “How can I help you?”

At the sound of your voice, the woman turns gracefully on her heel, her expression a perfectly crafted amalgamation of surprise and delight. “{Name}!” she exclaims, stepping forward with an outstretched arm. “Long time no see!”

“N-Nayeon,” you stammer, the shock of seeing her face freezing you in place. “What… what brings you here?”

The dark-haired woman steps forward to pull you into a hug, enveloping you in her fruity perfume. “Would you believe me if I said I wanted to catch up with an old friend?” she asks playfully.

We were never friends, you want to say. In your head, Bast lets out a derisive snort of agreement. Lisa, you notice, has conveniently melted away somewhere amidst the organized chaos of your shop, disappearing into the myriad shelves and knickknacks.

“Plus, I really wanted to look at some flowers,” Nayeon continues, betraying her true purpose at last. “You’ve heard, haven’t you? About my engagement? I’m sure Hoseok—I mean, my fiancé—has mentioned it to you, of all people. You are his best friend, after all.”

The inside of the shop is beginning to feel stifling. Perspiration trickles down your neck and you tug at your collar, loosening the material from where it’s plastered against your skin. “Sure,” you manage, once you feel like you can breathe again. “Right. Sure. The flowers are right this way, if you want to follow me.”

I’d forgotten how much I don’t like her, your familiar remarks dryly in your head.

Shut up, Bast.

Mercifully, he does. There’s a tug on your feet, and you glance down just in time to see him morph out of the shadow you cast against the sun-drenched floor. Ghostly and amorphous at first, he quickly solidifies into the feline figure you’ve grown accustomed to, and slinks protectively around your ankles before darting off to perch in the cushioned bay window seat.

Conveniently, that’s also where the flower display is. Colorful blooms and trailing leaves adorn the wooden shelves and tables in this particular corner of the shop, and you force yourself to shift back into professional mode as you come to a stop in front of an assortment of honeysuckle. “So, what kind of flowers are you looking for?” you ask, brushing your fingers along the pale yellow petals.

Nayeon hums thoughtfully and picks up a potted rosebush, examining it from all angles. “Roses, maybe. Are roses too clichéd now?” She brings the crimson buds closer and inhales, eyes fluttering shut. “No matter. I’ve always liked them.”

“They’re beautiful,” you agree, turning your attention to the selection of roses lining the topmost shelf. “Do you have a color preferen—?”

“Or maybe these would be better,” Nayeon interrupts, plucking up a pale pink calla lily from the bouquet you keep in a table display. “Or that one—what is it?”

You follow the trajectory of her gaze to a bunch of little white flowers with golden centers, stark against the dark dirt and surrounding green foliage. “That would be bloodroot,” you answer. “One of my personal favorites—it’s both ornamental and medicinal. It would look lovely in a bouquet.”

Nayeon pulls a face and shakes her head. “No, no—I don’t want anything with such a horrible name. What about these?” she asks, reaching up to take a closer look at a larger bloom. “Peonies, right?”

By the time Nayeon makes it back to the checkout counter with a few sample rose cuttings in hand, you’re fairly certain that several eternities have passed. “Is there anything else you need?” you ask as you ring her up and wrap the flowers neatly in paper.

“A discount for an old friend?” she queries, shooting you a playful wink. When you don’t answer right away, she giggles. “I’m kidding! Obviously, I’ll pay. It’s not like I’m pressed for money—I mean, you’ve seen who my fiancé is, right? Now gosh, where did I put my wallet?”

Your cheeks are beginning to feel far too hot. Nayeon is still rummaging in her purse, and you quickly duck beneath the counter under the pretense of looking for some ribbon to tie off the bouquet. Fanning your face, you take a few deep breaths, listening as she continues chattering away.

“We’re having dinner tonight, actually, Hoseok and I. It’ll be our second real date, and… wait!” She gasps, and you peer up just in time to see her slap a hand over her perfectly lacquered mouth. “You should come! Bring someone, if you can—it’ll be like a double date!”

If you can? Bast snipes. Curse her.

You sigh inwardly and straighten back up, ribbon in hand. Shut up, Bast.

If you won’t, I will.

You’ll do no such thing.

Mustering up your best, most earnest smile, you hand over the wrapped flowers along with her change. “That sounds like fun,” you tell her, ignoring the way your insides lurch at the lie. “When and where?”

Nayeon beams and rattles off the address of an unfamiliar restaurant. “Don’t be late!” she calls as she heads for the door. The bell jangles cheerily as she departs, and as soon as the door shuts behind her, Lisa pokes her head around a nearby bookshelf.

“Finally,” she sighs, walking over to join you. “I thought she’d never leave.”

Ordinarily, you wouldn’t dare speak ill of a customer, but you’re willing to make an exception today. “You and me both,” you reply, watching as Bast slinks over like a shadow and hops onto the counter beside you. He nuzzles his face into the crook of your elbow in silent solidarity, and you mindlessly begin scratching behind his ears as Lisa speaks again.

“Are you really going to go to that dinner tonight?”

You meet her gaze, shrugging. “I already said I would. Do I really have a choice?”

There isn’t much else to say, and both you and she know it. Pushing off from where she’s leaning against the countertop, Lisa flips her coppery hair over her shoulder and shoots you a look, brown eyes full of sympathy. “Good luck,” she says sincerely. You get the feeling that she wants to say something else, but decides against it at the last minute. Instead, she bids you goodbye and walks out with a wave and another chime of the bell. Silence settles over the shop once more, and you allow yourself a few moments to breathe—slow and deep, in and out—before picking up your phone and opening up the most recent text messages. It doesn’t take long to find the name you’re looking for, but you still pause, thumbs hovering over the keyboard, before you begin to type.

[4:21pm] You: how would you like to join me for a very awkward dinner date?

[4:21pm] Jin: consider me intrigued.

///

You and Jin arrive at the restaurant first. It’s an ornate, palatial place with tuxedoed waitstaff and a coat room, and despite giving the name ‘Jung’ at the door, you’re certain that Hoseok played no part in the venue selection. The host ushers you to a booth tucked in the back, the cushioned seats a velvety burgundy and a chandelier glittering overhead, throwing refracted, iridescent light across the veined marble table. All of a sudden, the simple black dress you’re wearing feels painfully inadequate. Glancing down at your feet, you wonder if you should have worn heels instead.

Beside you, Jin cuts a striking figure in a creamy silk shirt with ribbons that tie into a bow at his throat, the material loose and flowy up until where it tucks into fitted black slacks. His pink hair complements the elegant outfit perfectly, parted and swept off his forehead to reveal his dark brows.

As if reading your mind, he lays a gentle hand on your shoulder. “You look beautiful,” he says, before gesturing at the booth. “Now, do you want the inside or outside? Think you’ll need to make a quick getaway at some point?”

“Probably,” you sigh. Jin nods and sits down first, and you watch him slide across the seat cushion before settling in beside him. “I still can’t believe you volunteered to be here,” you murmur, plucking up one of the folded cloth napkins and fiddling with the crisp white edges. “You’re a saint, I swear.”

Jin chuckles and plucks the napkin from your clasped hands, laying it across your lap instead. “Not a saint,” he says, matching your soft tone. “Just someone who cares about you.”

Your cheeks warm at his sudden proximity. “Thank you,” you tell him, for what must be the umpteenth time. “I can’t even imagine what I’d do without you.”

“Good thing you don’t have to, then,” he replies with a grin. “Now, chin up. They just walked in.”

You can’t help the groan that escapes you. “Is it too late to run?”

“Afraid so,” he answers honestly.

And then Nayeon is slipping into the cushioned seat opposite you, syrupy smile in place on her berry lacquered lips. “Hi!” she chirps, laying a hand on Hoseok’s arm as he sits down beside her. “Sorry we’re late. We, um…” She pauses and shoots Hoseok a conspiratorial look, giggling. “... lost track of the time.”

Your magic flares, hot and bright in your veins, and you know Jin feels it too when he lays a cautionary hand on your knee beneath the table. “We weren’t waiting long,” he says, offering the two a genial smile. He’s perfectly polite as he and Nayeon exchange quick introductions, and gestures toward the assortment of menus on the table as soon as everyone has settled down. “Why don’t we order some wine to start?”

“Oh, that’s a splendid idea! Isn’t that a splendid idea, Hoseok?” Nayeon turns to the auburn-haired man beside her, and you do the same, gaze landing on Hoseok for the first time tonight. He’s in an all black ensemble, sharp jacket layered over a silky black shirt, the top buttons loosened to bare a tantalizing sliver of golden skin. His auburn hair is parted, a stray lock falling across his forehead, and you shiver when you realize he’s staring right back at you with dark, unreadable eyes.

At the sound of Nayeon’s voice, Hoseok seems to snap out of his trance, his expression smoothing out as he plasters on a smile. “Take a look at the menu,” he says, picking up the leather-bound book and offering it to her. “Dinner’s on me.”

You blink. “We can’t let you do that, Hobi.”

“Let me pick up at least part of the tab,” Jin adds, already reaching for his wallet. “I’m no corporate bigshot, but I do well enough for myself.”

“No need to be modest,” you chime in, nudging him playfully. “Weren’t you just telling me about your new restaurant opening on the way over? Next week, right?”

Jin’s ears redden as all the attention is turned onto him. “Next week, yeah.”

“That’s amazing!” Nayeon chirps, pressing closer to Hoseok. “We’ll have to check it out sometime. Maybe a date night, right, darling?”

Hoseok busies himself with rearranging his cutlery, swapping the knife and fork around. “Right—sure. If we ever make it up to Seoul, we’ll, uh… we’ll definitely stop by. Congratulations, man.”

The conversation continues. A server stops by to take your wine order, and Jin decides on a moderately priced bottle of cabernet sauvignon. Glasses are brought over, and wine is poured. Hoseok finishes his quickly and pours himself another, and though his wolf metabolism prevents him from getting drunk off of regular wine, you know that he’s a bit of a lightweight and tends to avoid drinking heavily no matter what the beverage. He’s drinking with a purpose tonight, and you’re beyond grateful when Jin pipes up with yet another story when the conversation lulls.

“And then I found out that the oven was on the whole time! Adam would probably let the entire apartment go up in flames just to spite me—I should watch my back.”

“Or, you know, just watch the oven more closely,” you tease. “I’ve seen your place, Jin—it’s a complete fire hazard. It’s a wonder it hasn’t burned to the ground already.”

Jin sniffs. “You’re exaggerating. Stop making me look bad.”

“You make yourself look bad,” you retort, laughing when his lower lip juts out into a pout.

Across the table, Hoseok clears his throat. “Speaking of fire hazards—did I ever tell you about the time {Name} set me on fire?”

“I did no such thing!” you protest, reaching over to slap his arm. “I mean, okay, maybe a little bit, but that was one time! And you were barely singed!”

Hoseok snorts out a laugh. “Barely singed? I couldn’t sit properly for a week.”

“Oh please, that’s a lie and you know it!”

Nayeon interrupts your conversation with a loud huff, setting her wineglass down with enough force to thud against the veined marble tabletop. “Do one of you maybe want to fill us in on the joke here?”

Abashed, you glance back at Hoseok, watching as his smile slowly fades back into the careful, neutral expression he’s worn all evening. “Sorry,” you murmur. “It’s an old story from when we were kids—when we first met, actually. We were seven years old, and it was the second day of school. I didn’t have a very good handle on my magic yet, and accidentally set Hoseok’s tail on fire during recess.”

“I preferred to run around in my wolf form back then,” Hoseok further elaborates. “There was a big field out behind the school—remember that, {Name}?”

You nod. “Of course. It went right up to the very edge of the woods. And if you kept going and went far enough, you reached the old wooden bridge.”

Hoseok is smiling again, soft and fond. “That thing was a death trap.”

“But the teachers could never keep us away,” you say, grinning at him.

“All right,” Nayeon interrupts again, sniffing disdainfully. “Enough about the old days—I think it’s time to talk about the present. And more importantly, the future.” She sighs happily and props her chin up in her palm, ensuring that the delicate golden band on her ring finger is on full display, the metal glimmering in the warm light. “You’re both invited to the wedding, of course. And I never did properly thank you for the flowers today, {Name}!”

Her words seem to come as a surprise to Hoseok, who straightens up in his seat. “Flowers? You visited Hellebore today?”

“Of course I did!” Nayeon hides a giggle behind a manicured hand. “I wouldn’t even think of trusting anyone else with my bouquet.”

Hoseok’s gaze skitters over to you, awash with concern and tinged with apology, but you ignore him in favor of forcing your expression into something that’s meant to be a smile. Yet no matter how much you strain your cheeks and stretch your lips, it feels—and looks, you’re sure—far more like a grimace.

“I’m happy to do it,” you lie, your teeth gritted and tight. “I don’t mind it one bit.”

///

“So. That was just as awkward as promised.”

You and Jin are walking back to Hellebore, leaving behind the bustling downtown area for the darker, quieter streets of your neighborhood. Your companion’s hair is tinged orange in the glow from the streetlamps, and you can only chuckle humorlessly when he turns to you and raises his eyebrows.

“Can’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“I was duly warned,” Jin agrees.

A car drives by, the headlights throwing Jin’s profile into stark relief. His expression is solemn but he doesn’t say anything else and neither do you. The remainder of the walk passes in silence, broken only by the occasional strain of conversation from passersby and the low drone of late night traffic. You reach Hellebore with no incidents, and you muffle a yawn as Jin steps into the wardrobe to go back to Seoul.

Just before he shuts the door behind him, he shoots you a meaningful glance over his shoulder. “You should tell him how you feel, you know. He deserves to know. And you… you deserve to be happy.”

He doesn’t elaborate, and you don’t need him to. Long after he’s gone, his remark echoes in your head, and no matter what, you simply cannot seem to shake it.

///

It’s been years since you’ve last gone to the old bridge, but after last night’s conversation you find yourself pulled back, lured by the promise of memories of a kinder time. The forest beyond the field hasn’t changed much since your school days, and neither, you realize, has the bridge itself. It still stands tall, proudly spanning the steep ravine that your teachers warned you about, the rickety wood splitting apart at the seams and overgrown with lichen and climbing ivy. Far below, the white-capped river rushes by on its long, turbulent journey to the sea.

Carefully, you step onto the bridge—first one foot, then the other. The energy in the air shifts as soon as your feet leave the loamy earth, finding traction instead on hewn wood, and you sigh as your fingertips brush against the railing. The magic here is an old magic—different from the ancient magic that dwells in places like the werewolves’ clearing and the realms of the fae. The low thrum of it fills the air and seeps into your veins, quickening your pulse and prickling your skin.

“I thought you might be here.” The voice comes from your left, barely audible over the rush of the river.

“You thought right,” you reply, stepping forward until you’re toeing the railing and leaning over to stare down into the swirling, eddying waters below.

Hoseok joins you at the edge. His profile is stark against the leafy green backdrop, and for a few moments, all is still. Then: “I’m really sorry about last night.”

The apology hangs in the silence for a few moments before fading into the sound of churning water and wind whistling through the trees. You suck in a deep breath, oxygen swelling your lungs until you can hold it in no longer, before letting it escape in a resigned sigh.

“You don’t have to apologize to me, Hoseok.”

“Maybe not. But I want to.” He shoots you a sidelong glance. “Will you let me make it up to you?”

You raise a brow. “Make it up to me? And how exactly do you plan on doing that?”

“Anything you want.” Hoseok smiles crookedly, but you can’t quell the tumult brewing in your belly.

“What do you want, Hobi?”

His smile fades. “I—” He stops and shakes his head, auburn hair flying. “It doesn’t matter what I want. This is about you.”

You gaze up at him, taking in the sharp cut of his jawline and the straight angle of his nose. Your eyes trail along the smooth slope of his rounded cheeks and the soft curve of his mouth, lingering on the little mole atop his upper lip.

And then you reach out and take his hand, savoring the way his fingers immediately, comfortably settle into the spaces between your own. “Why don’t we head down to the river?” you ask. “It’s been a long time since we’ve been, and I’ve missed it.”

Hoseok’s expression softens, a glimmer of something bright shining in his amber-flecked irises. Gently, he tugs on your hand, taking the lead as you leave the bridge behind and head north in search of the sloping path that will take you down and into the ravine that houses the riverbed. You chance a few glances over the treacherous edge, watching the water froth and tumble over the rocks.

“You know, this seems a lot more dangerous now than it did back then,” you muse. “I see why our teachers were always trying to keep us away.”

“We were kids back then,” Hoseok says, grinning. “We thought we were invincible. Nothing could touch us.”

“Simpler times,” you agree with a laugh. “I set your tail on fire, you cried—”

“—and then we became lifelong friends,” Hoseok finishes, joining in your mirth. “Easy-peasy.”

Together, you locate the path down to the ravine. The descent is easier than it was back then, your longer limbs extending your reach, but you’re grateful for Hoseok’s steadying hand all the same. He carefully guides you around the biggest rocks and tree roots, pulling you closer when you lose your footing near the bottom. His fingers remain twined with yours even after you’ve safely arrived at the riverbed, stepping across stones that have been worn smooth and warmed by the sun. You slip off your shoes, letting them dangle from your free hand, and Hoseok does the same.

Sunlight glitters off the water, throwing a thousand refractive diamonds across the surface, but when you dip your toes in you find that it’s cold as a mountain spring in autumn. That doesn’t stop Hoseok from bending down to splash you though, and you shriek in surprise before retaliating with a silent spell that sends icy water splattering across the faded denim of his jeans.

“That’s not fair!” he protests. “You can’t use magic!”

“I’m just using every resource available to me,” you reply with a sly grin, sending a swelling wave of water toward him with a lazy twist of your hand.

From beneath his drenched hair, Hoseok raises a challenging brow in your direction. “Oh yeah?”

Before you can even blink, he’s shrugging off his jacket and pulling his shirt over his head, baring a taut, honeyed abdomen and toned arms. Tossing the discarded clothes onto the bank, he unfastens his belt and lets that drop as well, fixing you with a crooked little smirk all the while. The muscles in his torso ripple.

And then he’s shifting—limbs elongating and reddish-brown fur sprouting from his skin. His remaining clothing rips under the strain of the transformation, floating downstream in tattered shreds, but you don’t pay them any mind. No matter how many times you’ve watched Hoseok shift, you’ll never quite get used to it. He hunches over, more beast than man at this point, his chest rumbling. And before you know it—before you can even pinpoint exactly when the transformation is complete—he’s standing before you as a massive russet wolf, baring ferociously sharp teeth that you know could easily tear a man limb from limb.

His eyes, however, remain the same—warm, molten brown flecked with amber and gold, a devilish twinkle lurking in their depths. You cock your head to the side in a silent challenge, and swear that the wolf in front of you grins before pouncing forward, landing in the river with an enormous splash that leaves you thoroughly drenched.

“Now we’re both soaked!” you cry in between giggles, watching as Hoseok emerges from the water, his fur dampened black and dripping. “How is this a win for you?”

Hoseok rears back and lets loose a triumphant howl, shaking himself out and further drenching you with the spray of water from his coat. You squeal and back up several steps, batting him away, but Hoseok just presses closer and nuzzles his wet face into the crook of your neck. His body heaves with every breath, flaring hot against your skin, and for a few long moments, you simply stand there, your arms coming up to wrap around his neck as icy water rushes past your ankles.

After what feels like an eternity, you step back, releasing Hoseok and staring up into his face. Even in his wolf form, he towers over you, and you reach up to stroke his muzzle tenderly before bopping him on the nose. “Come on,” you murmur. “Let’s dry off.”

Hoseok lets out a low rumble of agreement, and together, you make your way back to shore. You fold up his discarded clothing while he trots off to locate his shredded jeans, quickly finding them caught between some rocks and carrying the denim tatters back over to you in his teeth. Shaking your head, you add it to the growing pile and lay a hand atop it. Heat concentrates in your fingertips, mingling with the magic running through your veins. Stitch by stitch, his jeans repair themselves, drying in the process. Hoseok bumps your cheek with his nose in gratitude and darts off to change, and you dry your own clothes while you wait.

When Hoseok returns, he’s reverted to his human form, fully dressed and raking a hand through his damp hair. “Thanks for drying these off,” he says, flashing you a sheepish grin. “And for fixing my pants. Again.”

“Mending charms are easy,” you reply, and it’s the truth. Over the many years you’ve known Hoseok, you’ve mended his clothing countless times—from the accidental transformations in his early years, before he could control it, to the calculated ones as he got older. Hoseok doesn’t shift terribly often nowadays, but on occasion he still goes out to stretch his muscles and hunt with his pack. His grandfather, in particular, always made the time to take him hunting at least once a month. You wonder if he’s gone since he passed, but decide not to ask.

“Should we go see the Towers?” you ask instead.

“Lead the way,” he agrees, falling into step beside you as you head downstream. The ravine walls are higher here, decorated with gnarled roots and rocky outcrops that obscure the periwinkle sky and cast long shadows across the ground. Cairns begin to crop up on both sides of the river—each tower of stones carefully and deliberately stacked. They’re small and scattered at first, but gradually become taller and more frequent until you’re nearly surrounded by a forest of stone. The air grows noticeably heavier—the magic more potent. It almost feels as if electricity is dancing across your skin, the sparks sinking into your pores and melding with your soul.

Hoseok feels it too, if the look of awe in his eyes is any indication. “I can’t believe I’d nearly forgotten about this place,” he marvels, running a finger across one of the stacked stones. “Do you feel that? The magic?” Then he chuckles. “Wait, of course you do. What am I talking about?”

You smile softly, tracing the path his fingertips leave behind. “Yeah, Hobi. I feel it.”

The topmost stones are almost out of your reach now. Reaching into your pocket, you pull out a gray pebble about the size of your palm—a near perfect disc veined with white. Gently, you place it atop the cairn closest to you, watching it glint in the sunlight for a moment before turning to your companion.

“Well?”

Ancient legend dictates that as long as an offering is left, one may take a stone from the Towers. You and Hoseok have each acquired a rather sizable collection during your childhood years, lured by the promise that the stones will bring about good fortune and happiness.

“I forgot to bring something,” Hoseok admits, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. “But I can pick one out for you. Hang on…” He hums thoughtfully as he scans the towering pillars, tapping his chin until he alights on one in particular, plucking up a stone that’s been worn smooth, burnished orange and marbled with ivory and copper. “What do you think?”

“It’s beautiful,” you reply, admiring the way the marbled surface glitters in the sun.

Hoseok takes your hand and places the stone gently in your palm. “It’s yours.”

Then he’s off—stepping over a fallen log to admire another tower, brushing a curious finger across a moss-covered rock before glancing over his shoulder at you. “Coming?”

You nod, tucking his gift away safely in your pocket. Together, you carve out a path amongst the towering cairns, clambering over river rocks and brushing aside the dense undergrowth. The path opens up again gradually, revealing the burbling water to your left and the steep ravine wall to your right. The river is calmer here—clear enough to see all the way to the bottom where shimmering, silvery fish dart about. A low, flat rock juts out into the water a short ways away, and Hoseok strides over to plop atop it, gesturing for you to join him.

“This is nice,” he sighs once you’ve made yourself comfortable by his side. “The fresh air is doing me a world of good. I’ve been cooped up at the office for so long, I swear I almost forgot what trees smell like.”

“You’re more than welcome to sniff around the shop if you ever need a reminder,” you tell him, nudging his shoulder playfully. “Better yet, I’ll bring you a plant for your office. Spruce up the place a little bit.”

“That sounds great, actually,” he admits with a chuckle. “I don’t have your green thumb, though. I’ll probably end up accidentally killing it.”

“Something low maintenance, then,” you promise. “A succulent, maybe. When should I bring it by?”

Hoseok’s expression sombers. “You can always stop by tomorrow after the hearing.”

Your heart plummets into your stomach. The Ministry—the overarching government body that dictates all Shadowfolk affairs—summons every pack alpha for a confirmation hearing when they first come into power. “They’re holding the hearing? Already?”

He nods. “The Ministry’s summoned me for tomorrow morning. First item on their schedule, I’m pretty sure.” A resigned sigh escapes his lips, dissipating into mist on the air. “And there’s a party at JungTech HQ afterward. You know. So my dad can officially hand the reins over.”

“The most powerful man in Gwangju,” you murmur, thinking back to Lisa’s words.

Hoseok lets out a derisive snort. “Yeah, right. The most powerful man, beholden to his dad, the Council, and the entire fucking Ministry. It doesn’t matter what I want to do. Never has.”

It’s the second time he’s dismissed his feelings, and as much as you want to ask what it is he truly wants, you find that the words are stuck in your throat, your mouth suddenly as dry as the desert on a cloudless day. Instead, you lay a silent hand over his, feeling his warmth seep up into your palm.

“Hey.” Hoseok doesn’t tear his gaze away from the sky, watching a flock of birds fly overhead. “Yesterday, when Nayeon said she’d stopped by… did she say anything to you?”

The sound of her name leaving his lips leaves a sour taste on your tongue, but you swallow it down. “Not really,” you tell him. “She looked at some flowers and invited me to dinner. Simple as that.”

Hoseok nods slowly, lips pursed. “Was Jin already there when she came?”

You blink. “Jin? Oh, no—no, he wasn’t. I texted him after Nayeon left.”

“Ah.”

“I’m glad he was free, though.” You stare down into the water, where a curious fish swims in and out of the shadow you cast. “I’m honestly not sure who I could’ve invited if he hadn’t been available. Plus, it’s been ages since I’ve had dinner with him, and it’s been a few months since you’ve seen him too, right? I’m really happy it worked out.” You’re rambling now, but you can’t stop yourself. Hoseok has become eerily still, lost in introspection, and you feel obligated to fill the silence.

“You two make sense, you know.” Hoseok’s voice comes suddenly. “As a couple. Both witches—it makes a lot of sense.”

You peer over at him, eyes widening at his assumption. “We—we’re not actually together, Jin and I. We’re just friends.”

Hoseok straightens at that, his gaze flitting down to meet yours. “Really?”

“Really.”

A beat of silence. Hoseok looks like he wants to say something else, but a quiet buzz from his pocket stops him in his tracks. His mouth clamps shut as he checks his phone, teeth clicking together, and you can tell from the sudden tension in his jaw that it isn’t good news.

“Do you have to head back?”

He nods stiffly, silent apology written all over his face. “Work calls.”

You offer him a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry about me. Go on. I’ll see you tomorrow after your hearing.”

He nods again and turns to leave. Before he can take too many steps, though, you call him back, reaching into your pocket to pull out the stone he’d gifted you earlier.

“Take this,” you murmur, pressing it into his hands. “I’m pretty sure you need it more than I do right now.”

Hoseok’s fingers curl protectively around the stone, holding on like it’s his only remaining lifeline. “Thanks.”

///

Downtown Gwangju is a monochrome forest of towering glass and steel, clamorous and unchecked by nature, proudly defiant in the face of the earth mother herself. The sidewalks are awash with people rushing back from their lunch break, forcing you to dodge around several businessmen too absorbed in their phones. Just as you are finding your footing again, a hapless intern carrying a tray of coffee cups rushes past, nearly crashing into you.

“Oh, shi—sorry! Sorry, oh, jeez. Are you okay?”

You wave off his apology with a smile, taking in the ill fit of his suit and the messy knot of his tie. “Don’t worry about it,” you tell him, reaching out to help him steady the tray in his hands. A stabilizing spell—silently cast, the magic pulsing through your fingertips—should be enough to get him back to his office with no additional mishaps. You wonder if he’ll notice that his tray is suddenly more well-balanced, or that his hands have steadied.

But then again, you suppose it doesn’t really matter whether he does or not.

Somehow, someway, you make it to JungTech without running into anyone else. The receptionist recognizes you immediately and points you toward the elevator with a smile, and you thank her as you press the up button. It doesn’t take long to arrive, and you take a deep breath as you step inside, staring at your reflection in the mirrored walls.

All right? Bast queries, stirring awake in your mind.

You release the breath that you’d been holding in a long whoosh. Yeah. I’m all right.

The doors open on the top floor, and straight away, you are assailed by a cacophony of sounds. Scattered conversations and laughter intermingle with the clinking of champagne flutes. There are at least fifty people scattered around the open space that lies between the elevator and the glass-fronted CEO’s office at the very back—the office that bears Hoseok’s name on the door. There’s no sign of the man himself, but you have no doubt that he’s nearby. This entire party is a celebration for him, after all.

The elevator doors begin to close, and you quickly reach out to stop them, stepping out before it can protest at your dawdling. A young man in a pristine white shirt materializes on your right with a tray full of champagne flutes, and you pluck one off with a murmur of thanks. Sipping slowly, you wander around the perimeters of the party, listening to the lively chatter. Across the room, you spot Lisa, returning her friendly wave with one of your own.

“Hello, {Name}.”

The deep, familiar voice has you whirling around in an instant, head bowing in automatic deference. “Mr. Jung,” you murmur, not quite daring to look him in the eye. “It’s been a while.”

Hoseok’s father inclines his head in acknowledgment, salt-and-pepper hair gleaming beneath the fluorescent lights. No doubt he was a handsome man in his younger days, but the salt in his hair has steadily overtaken the pepper in the last few years, the stern lines around his mouth deepening.

“I didn’t know you would be joining us today,” he says cordially. “But then again, I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised after all these years. Have you been here long?”

“Not long. Five minutes, maybe.” Beneath his piercing gaze, you feel like a small child again. Quickly, you scramble for something else to say, gesturing around the sleek glass interior of the office. “This is a lovely party. You must be so proud.”

Another nod. “I wasn’t sure that Hoseok was going to step up,” he admits. “I had my reservations about whether or not he would accept his duties as a Jung, but he has, and I’m pleased that he did. It’s no easy feat, running this company and leading the city’s pack. But I’ve served my time, just as my father did before me.” His gaze flits down to meet yours suddenly, and you find that you can’t read the emotion swimming in them. “I believe I spotted you at his funeral the other day, did I not?”

You nod, resisting the urge to take a sip from your nearly empty champagne glass as your cheeks warm under the scrutiny. “I was, yes. I’m very grateful to have had the opportunity to pay my respects. He was a great man.”

“That, he was,” Mr. Jung agrees. “Hoseok takes after him in many ways. My father—as great as he was—always had a soft spot for the boy. Coddled him a bit too much.”

“With all due respect, Mr. Jung, I think that’s a grandfather’s job,” you reply with a smile.

That earns you a smile in return, the lines around his mouth easing. After exchanging a few more pleasantries, Hoseok’s father excuses himself to talk to the other guests, and you set off in search of Hoseok himself. You can feel his aura somewhere nearby, strong and steady, but the room is large enough that you cannot pinpoint his exact location. Not for the first time, you curse the fact that you don’t have a werewolf’s sharp sense of smell. No doubt it could easily be as cumbersome as it is helpful, but it would certainly help you right now.

Turning a corner, you are about to continue lamenting your average olfactory system when you suddenly catch a glimpse of familiar auburn hair, afloat in a sea of black suits. Dodging around a sharply dressed businesswoman and ducking beneath a waiter’s serving tray clears your path to Hoseok, and you’re milliseconds away from stepping forward to greet him when you feel it.

There’s an energy emanating from Hoseok, the likes of which you’ve never felt from him before. It’s heavy and commanding and so potent that the air is laden with it, and a cursory glance at the people surrounding him reveals that they feel it too—their gazes lowered, voices hushed and respectful. In his fitted black suit and emerald green shirt, he looks every bit the alpha he is, and you are quickly realizing that you’re not immune to the power radiating off of him. The Hoseok standing before you isn’t the same Hoseok whose tail you set on fire all those years ago. Far from it. The revelation is somehow simultaneously terrifying and thrilling, and your heart leaps into your throat when you notice that he’s waving you over.

As if compelled, you comply, striding forward until you’re standing before him. “Hi,” your murmur, suddenly feeling shy.

Hoseok’s face splits into a smile. “Hi yourself,” he says, and you would have laughed if your insides didn’t feel like they were about to burst.

“I, um. I brought you your succulent,” you tell him, reaching into your bag. There’s a tiny potted jade plant inside, packaged neatly into a box that you open up and present to him. “It’s jade. Easy to keep alive, and easy to propagate too, if you’re inclined.”

Hoseok accepts your gift, his smile growing as he admires the plump green leaves. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”

You shrug and wave off his gratitude, fiddling to clasp your bag shut. “So,” you start, glancing around and gnawing on your bottom lip, completely missing the way Hoseok’s eyes darken as he follows the movement. “It looks like everything went well at the Ministry. Your dad is pleased.”

Hoseok hums, low in his throat. “You talked to him?”

“Yeah, just now.”

“I see.”

He looks like he wants to say something more, but he’s interrupted by a blur of motion and a shrill cry of his name. A moment later, Nayeon is at his side, latching onto his arm and batting her lashes, adorned in a form-fitting red dress and golden jewelry.

“Hoseok! There you are. I’ve been looking all over for you!” Then her gaze alights on you, eyes going wide as if she’s only just noticed your presence. “{Name}, oh my goodness. I almost didn’t see you there, hi!”

“Hello, Nayeon,” you grit out, unable to hide your scowl. You wonder if she spotted it before you hid it behind a large sip of champagne.

Luckily, she doesn’t seem to notice. Her attention refocuses onto a spot behind you, and you watch as her expression lights up, delight etching across her features. “Mr. Jung!” she exclaims. “There’s my favorite future father-in-law. Come and join us—it’s not a party without you.”

Hoseok’s father chuckles lightly, coming forward to stand beside you. “Long time no see,” he jokes, nodding in your direction. “And Nayeon—hello. How are you enjoying the party?”

“Oh, I’m having the loveliest time,” she chirps, simpering up at Hoseok. “How could I not be, when my fiancé is here with me?” Then she smiles—her lips painted the same shade of red as her dress. “But I’m sure I’m nowhere near as happy as you are. You must be beyond excited to spend some quality time with your wife after being busy for so long.”

“I am,” Mr. Jung admits. The severity in his features softens as he seeks out his wife, standing across the room surrounded by friends and extended family. “I’m a very lucky man to have a woman like her.”

Nayeon giggles. “And I’m a lucky woman to have a man like your son. Isn’t that right, darling?”

She tilts her head to look up at Hoseok, who blinks twice in rapid succession, his throat bobbing. “Right,” he says, his voice raspy. “The luckiest.”

And as you turn to engage Mr. Jung in conversation once more, you miss the way his gaze lingers on you.

///

Tuesdays at Hellebore are for brewing. You save bottling for Thursdays—giving your potions and other concoctions ample time to simmer and set—but today, you are hunched over the stove with all four burners turned to different temperature settings, watching over your pots so that they don’t boil over.

A cursory glance out the window tells you that it’s well into the afternoon, the pastel blue sky littered with trailing clouds lit hazy and golden in the sun. You’ve been in the kitchen since early morning, and, desperate for a breath of fresh air, you crack the window open and inhale deeply. Then you turn back to the stove, giving one pot a stir and adding a pinch of burdock root to another.

Wandering downstairs, you head to the greenhouse. The sunlight is brighter here, the air more humid. Inhaling deeply, you breathe in the scent of the hundreds of plants growing inside, before heading for the laburnum tree in the far corner. Carefully, you brush aside the cascading golden flowers, about to gather the dried ones that have fallen to the dirt when there’s a knock on the front door.

“I’m sorry, we’re close—” you say, stopping when you recognize the head of coppery red hair in the window. “Lisa?” Confused, you open the door and let her inside. “What brings you here today?”

“You need to go to Hoseok, now,” she says, foregoing any preambles. “He’s… well, you’ll see. Nayeon’s there right now, but she’s not helping the situation, and...” She sighs. “I’m pretty sure you’re the only one who can help him now.”

All at once, your stomach drops to your toes. “What’s wrong with Hoseok?” you demand. “Is he hurt?”

Lisa shakes her head, red hair flying. “No, he’s fine. I don’t know how much longer that’ll last, though.”

The cryptic response sends your heart into overdrive, pounding against your ribcage like a doomsday drum. Striding over to the bay window, you wake Bast from his nap in a slanted ray of sunlight, scratching behind his black ears and watching as his golden eyes flicker open, pupils going wide when he senses your turmoil.

What is it?

Hoseok, you reply shortly. Beneath your touch, Bast’s ears perk up.

What do you need?

You swallow, hard, and suck in a deep breath. I’m going to open a portal.

It’s a dangerous feat, and both you and Bast know it. Opening a portal requires an immense amount of energy, and maintaining one long enough to travel through is a risk to even the most experienced witches. You’ve heard horror stories of spliced limbs and paralysis, and in some cases, even death.

But for Hoseok, you’re willing to risk it all.

“Lisa,” you say, grabbing your purse and striding back to the front door of the shop. “Can you lock up once I’m gone?”

She nods nervously. “Of course.”

You incline your head in silent thanks. At your feet, Bast is slinking continuous figure-eights around your ankles, betraying his worry at the task ahead. Your own heart feels ready to spring out from your ribcage and onto the sun-drenched floor, but you swallow down your nerves and look down at your familiar once more. Ready? you ask.

Ready, Bast confirms. Be careful.

I will.

Closing your eyes, you begin to visualize Hoseok’s front door, focusing on every little detail you can remember. There’s the scuff in the black paint from when he first moved in and accidentally scraped a table leg against it. There’s the bronze knocker that always hangs slightly askew. The image builds slowly in your mind, coming together like the broken pieces of a puzzle.

The air around you is suddenly much warmer than before, an invisible force sapping away at your strength and weakening your legs. Bast’s energy melds with yours, but it’s barely enough to keep you on your feet. Exhaustion seeps into your bones and steals the oxygen from your lungs. You gasp, chest heaving.

I don’t think it’s going to work. Bast’s voice is a faint whisper in the back of your mind.

It will, you hiss. It has to.

The front door of your shop is beginning to glow white, becoming hazy and amorphous as the edges begin to blur. You spot a splash of black paint coming through the fog, followed by a bronze knocker. A matching handle appears a moment later, growing out of tendrils of mist and solidifying before your eyes.

Sucking in a deep breath, you reach forward to grab it. Slowly, you turn until you can turn no longer.

And then you step through.

The first thing you hear is a low, cavernous rumble—deep enough that you feel it reverberating through your very bones. Then your surroundings begin to come into focus. You’re in Hoseok’s entryway, all your limbs thankfully intact. The relief you feel at your success is quickly eclipsed by worry though, when you see Hoseok himself on the far side of the living room. The look in his brown eyes is nothing short of wild, his white shirt unbuttoned to nearly his navel and his auburn hair sweaty and disheveled.

“H-Hobi?” Your voice is no more than a breath, dissipating in the open air.

“Hoseok.” The new voice has you whirling. Nayeon is pressed against the wall opposite him, her expression harried. “Hoseok, please—“

“Get out,” Hoseok growls, his voice dangerously low. He’s bristling with the same energy as before, the same energy you felt back at JungTech—but this time it’s enough to fill the room and spill out the opened door and into the hallway. You can feel it pulsing against your skin, hot and electric, and know that Nayeon is even more affected from the way her shoulders slouch, her eyes dropping to the floor when he snarls. “Get out, now.”

She does. Nayeon turns on her heel and dashes out, slamming the door behind her and leaving you alone with Hoseok. His eyes are alight with something more wolf than man, his chest heaving with uneven breaths, and it’s all you can do not to shrink back when he turns his full attention onto you. Even from across the room, you can smell the liquor spilled across the coffee table in a dark ooze of fluid, cloying and bitter.

“What are you doing here?” Hoseok asks, his voice cracking on the last syllable. “You shouldn’t be here right now, {Name}.”

“Lisa told me to come,” you whisper. “You’ve been pushing yourself too much, Hoseok.”

Hoseok shakes his head and rakes a frazzled hand through his hair. “You need to leave,” he grunts. Shakily, he reaches out to right the overturned liquor bottle, the pad of his thumb skimming across the shattered edge.

“Let me do that,” you tell him, making to step forward, but Hoseok stops you with a raised hand and a low growl that stops you in your tracks.

“Don’t,” he hisses. “Don’t you dare come any closer to me.”

You shake your head. “Hobi, it’s obvious you’ve been drinking. Let me help you.”

“No!” he snarls, flinching back when you take a step forward. “You need to leave. It’s… it’s dangerous for you here.”

“Dangerous?” Your voice is reduced to a whisper at the severity of his reaction, the energy in the air intensifying until it’s almost unbearable. “Why?”

“Because I’m in heat!” Hoseok spits. He sucks in a deep breath, the air whistling between his teeth, before he lets out an agonized moan and pinches the bridge of his nose. “I’m in heat,” he repeats, reticence dripping from every syllable. “I can’t even fucking think straight, and I’m afraid I’m going to hurt you if you stay. So please, {Name}. Please go.”

“But Nayeon…” you begin, wavering when his eyes flash darkly at the mention of her name. “Or Lisa… I can call her, maybe—”

“No!”

You jump, startled at the volume of his shout.

“No,” Hoseok repeats, softer this time. “Don’t. I don’t want them. I’m—I’m fine.”

The sticky humidity and the pulsating energy flowing through the room tell you otherwise. “You’re clearly not,” you tell him gently, taking another step toward him. “Let me call Lisa. Or maybe one of the other girls in the pack, I’m sure someone can help y—”

“I don’t want Lisa.” Defeat suffuses his tone, his eyes fluttering shut. “I don’t want any of them. I want—fuck.” Hoseok groans and lets his head fall back against the wall, the dull thunk echoing in the stillness. “It doesn’t fucking matter what I want. You need to leave, {Name}. You’re only going to be in danger if you stay.”

For the second time that afternoon, only one word springs to mind. “Why?”

Hoseok groans again. “Because I’m weak,” he mutters hoarsely. “Because I’m weak, and I’m not thinking straight, and if you come any closer to me, I won’t be able to stop myself from pinning you against that wall right there and having my way with you.”

Your breath hitches in your throat. The rippling energy in the air is almost oppressive in its strength, and only grows when Hoseok’s gaze finally lands on you, his pupils blown out and blacker than the night.

“Go,” he entreaties, dragging a frazzled hand through his hair. “Please, {Name}.”

You suck in a deep breath, your lungs swelling and expanding with the newfound oxygen. Then, ever so slowly, you let your gaze flicker up to meet his. “What if I don’t want to?”

Hoseok freezes. Time comes to a standstill, and even the overwhelming energy emanating from him seems to falter. The room is near silent, broken only by your companion’s ragged breathing, his chest heaving beneath the thin white fabric of his shirt. Even from across the room, you can see the sheen of sweat coating his honeyed skin, shining in the light of the setting sun.

“You don’t mean that,” he says at last. “You can’t mean that.”

“I can,” you whisper. “And I do.”

For three agonizingly long seconds, Hoseok remains rooted firmly in place, his throat bobbing harshly. Then, before you can even blink, he’s striding forward—a blur of motion almost too quick for your eyes to follow. He comes to a stop a hair’s breadth from you, one hand reaching up to cup your face delicately, as if you’re made of glass.

“You,” he rasps, “have no idea what you’ve just done.” His thumb traces the swell of your cheek just below your eye, the motion surprisingly tender. Your heart stutters in your chest.

And then he leans down and crushes his mouth to yours.

The rest of the world falls away, dissolving into nothing. Your eyes flutter shut as Hoseok’s hands slide down your sides to curl around your hips, your body melting against his taut frame. He is all you can feel and all you can taste, and you keen helplessly when he grinds against you, his cock hot and hard against your stomach.

The sound seems to awaken something in Hoseok, a cavernous groan erupting from his throat. Pulling away from your mouth, he descends upon the delicate skin of your neck, teeth and tongue blossoming bruises in their wake. Shaky hands find the collar of your shirt, questioning eyes seeking out yours for permission that you happily give. He tugs the garment off almost delicately, his ravenous gaze roving across each bit of newly revealed flesh, and once it’s freed from your head he tosses it aside and sets about doing the same to the rest of your clothing.

Maybe it should feel odd, watching through lidded eyes as Hoseok drops to his knees to pull your jeans down and off your ankles. Maybe you should feel embarrassed, seeing your best friend bury his nose between your legs, delirious bliss etching across his features as he inhales, his strong fingers curling around your thighs to spread you wider. But instead, it feels completely and utterly natural—as if this was always meant to be.

“You smell divine,” Hoseok breathes, slotting himself between your spread thighs and running a fingertip along your lace-covered slit, collecting the considerable slick there and bringing it to his nose. “Fuck, {Name}. Just one whiff, and I can tell that you’re primed and ready for me.”

“Take me, then,” you breathe back shakily, rolling your hips when he slips past the lacy barrier of your panties to find your clit, circling around the sensitive nub until you’re gasping his name.

Hoseok’s gaze darkens to obsidian, his pupils swallowing up the amber-flecked brown of his irises. In one smooth motion, he’s on his feet again, straightening up to his full height as his hands find purchase on your hips. He twirls you around until you’re facing the wall, your palms pressed flat against the woven tapestry hanging there.

“Gorgeous.” A single word, laced with unmistakable awe. Then he’s fumbling with his belt buckle, the metallic clink and tug of a zipper reaching your ears, before he presses against you, clothed chest molding against your bare back. Even through the thin layer of fabric, you can feel the sweltering heat emanating from him, his sweat soaking through the cotton and sticking to your skin. His mouth finds its way to the junction of your neck and shoulder again—teasing at the flesh until you’re quivering—before he begins laying a trail of hot kisses down your spine.

“Wanna fuck you,” Hoseok rasps, tearing your panties away once his lips reach the waistband, the flimsy lace ripped to shreds in his desperate grip. “Want you on your front, want you on your back, want you on my tongue—” His voice drops, rumbling through his chest and sending shivers through your entire body. “Want you. Wanted you for so long.”

And as if to reinforce his words, the velvety head of his cock nestles against the cleft of your backside, hot and slick.

Wordlessly, you arch your back, presenting him with the tempting swell of your rear. A glance over your shoulder reveals the strained clench of his jaw and the bob of his throat, his biceps tensed and his gaze unwavering. His control is undoubtedly dangling by a single thread at this point—a delicate, gossamer thread that’s on the verge of snapping. The delirium of his heat is overtaking his senses, his grip tightening on your hips, and ever so slowly, he begins to press forward until the tip of his thick cock is just beginning to part your walls. Already, the fit borders on excruciating, and your body tenses at the intrusion, stretched to the limit around his thick girth.

Hoseok exhales shakily, his primal instincts warring with his desire to ensure your comfort. Soft lips drop kiss after kiss onto your bare shoulders, your back, your neck—wherever he can reach as he whispers tender praises into your skin. “Breathe, princess,” he encourages lowly. “You can take it—I know you can. You were made for me.”

Obediently, you inhale, focusing on the way your lungs expand and contract as you draw air into them. The pain ebbs away with each breath you take, until all that is left is a low throb of pleasure. Your hips rock back against him, and Hoseok takes it as a sign to push forward once more, parting your walls until he’s fully seated inside you, your body stretched to the limit as you mold around him.

There’s no pain now—only an aching desire for more, more, more. He’s deep enough to reach parts of you that you’ve never been able to explore before—either alone or with other partners—and you moan brokenly when he rolls his hips experimentally. “More, Hoseok,” you whimper. “Please.”

He obliges. One thrust leads into another, the punishing pace he sets fueled by his heady desperation for relief. The full, heavy weight of his cock dragging along your walls ignites every nerve ending in your body, sizzling electricity blazing through your veins. It’s all you can do to plant your palms flat against the tapestried wall, fingers twitching at the woven fabric as Hoseok grabs your hips with enough force to bruise and pulls you back against him in time with his thrusts.

“Look at you,” he says hoarsely. “Love the way you feel, clenching around me like that. My perfect, pretty girl, taking my cock so well. I always knew you were made for me.” He grunts, forehead falling against your back, damp hair matting against your skin as he continues rutting against you. “Always—fuck—knew you were my mate.”

The particularly harsh thrust that follows his raspy declaration sends all coherent thought flying out of your head, taking your surprise along with it. All you can manage is a shuddery whine that vaguely resembles his name, the sound intermingling with the obscene smack of flesh against flesh and the continuous stream of praises Hoseok whispers into your skin.

There’s something building inside you—a dull, throbbing pressure at the point where your body joins with his. He’s still rolling up into you, but each subsequent thrust grows more and more shallow. The realization dawns on your dazed mind all at once, as you feel the growing swell at the base of his cock. Hoseok is rendered near immobile as he finally reaches his high, the entirety of his length sheathed firmly inside your pussy as he spills ropes of white against your fluttering walls. The swelling continues, filling you until you feel fit to burst.

“H-Hoseok,” you gasp. “I can’t. I can’t—you’re going to rip me in half.”

Soothing hands smooth along your sides, warm lips littering kisses onto your bare shoulders. “You can,” he murmurs tenderly. “You were made for me, and I for you. You can take it, princess. I know you can.”

The gentle repetition of his fingertips trailing nonsensical patterns into your skin eases your labored panting somewhat. Beneath his touch, you slowly relax, the pressure in your abdomen abating as his knot begins to subside.

“You did so well.” His voice is no more than a mumble, almost lost in the sweat and slick coating your skin.

You sag against the wall, taking a few moments to catch your breath before slowly easing off of him, the sudden loss leaving your core empty and aching. Gingerly, you turn around to face him, acutely aware of the way your combined juices immediately begin dribbling down your thighs.

“You said I was your mate,” you whisper, almost afraid that the sentiment will disappear if voiced aloud. “Did… did you mean that?”

“Every word,” Hoseok replies, equally soft. “Is that okay?”

A smile blooms across your face. Rising up to your tiptoes, you kiss him again—a soft, reassuring peck that he immediately leans into, seeking out your touch like a flower in the sun. “More than okay,” you breathe, feeling the way his lips stretch upward against yours. “I’m glad, Hobi.”

Hoseok sighs into your mouth, a slow smile settling across his features. “Now it’s your turn,” he says, and in an instant, he’s swept you off your feet, one arm beneath your bent knees and the other around your back. “And I’m planning to take my time with you, princess. You’re not leaving here until I say so.”

You wrap your arms around his neck, crossing your hands at his nape. “Fine by me,” you tell him, earning yourself a wide grin. His lips seek out yours again as he carries you down the darkened hallway and into the shadowy depths of his bedroom, pausing only to nudge the lightswitch on with his elbow. Golden light suffuses the room as he steps forward to lay you on his bed, your back sinking into the plush mattress and dipping further when he joins you. He hovers over you with an arm on either side of your head, and you reach up to trace the vein that lines his biceps with a gentle fingertip, giggling when he gives your bottom lip a punishing nip.

The kiss deepens from there. Hoseok parts your lips and seeks out your tongue with his own, subduing it into compliance. By the time you pull apart, all the oxygen has left your lungs, leaving you flushed and gasping. Hoseok chortles breathlessly and trails down to press a kiss to your navel, before traveling downward until he’s reached your clit. Gently, he wraps his lips around the sensitive nub, rumbling with laughter when you buck against him.

“So needy,” he murmurs. To your displeasure, he straightens back up to kneel between your spread thighs, but your complaint quickly dissolves into thin air when he edges forward until his knee is pressed against your aching clit. Desperate for more friction, you grind against him, your wetness soaking through his jeans in a matter of seconds.

It doesn’t take long for pressure to build up in your belly again, winding tight as a coiled spring. Hoseok is staring down at you, transfixed, and his undivided attention only serves to bring you closer to the edge, teetering on the very brink.

“Look at you.” His voice could almost be described as a purr, if he weren’t so utterly canine in mannerisms and appearance. “Such a greedy little thing, all desperate to get off. You’re making a mess of my new jeans, princess.”

You’re too far gone to care about the teasing lilt that colors his tone. The edge is rapidly approaching, and one last roll of your hips is enough to send you over, your walls convulsing around nothing as you ride out your high.

Hoseok doesn’t wait. In an instant, he’s back between your legs, having moved so quickly you didn’t even see when he’d started or stopped. His tongue darts out to lave at your folds, a growl rumbling through his chest when your hips jump on instinct. Immediately, he tightens his grip, strong arms winding around your thighs and anchoring at your waist to render you helpless in his grasp, only able to take what he sees fit to give.

“How is it that you taste even better than you smell?” Hoseok muses as he leans down to suck your clit into his mouth, lips curling up into a pleased smirk when you gasp out his name. “Cute,” he says, releasing the nub in favor of descending to your drenched entrance instead, flicking his tongue shallowly inside before withdrawing with a chuckle.

“Hoseok—” you begin, only to dissolve into a moan when he sheaths two fingers inside you without any warning, curling them up and in until you’re shaking in his grasp.

“Come for me,” he commands softly. “Go on, let me hear you.”

And you do, chanting his name like a mantra as a wave of pleasure overtakes you. Hoseok’s thumb circles your clit in just the right way to prolong your orgasm, and it isn’t until you’re cringing from overstimulation that he finally relents, descending down to mold his mouth to yours in a searing kiss. His lips part yours, tongue dipping out to explore as he sheds his shirt and shucks off his ruined jeans. His skin, when he presses against you, burns hot as a furnace wherever it touches. Against your stomach, his cock stirs back to life.

He’s gentler this time. Every movement is slow and deliberate and tender as he breaches you, murmuring your name reverentially as he fills you again. Your body bows to his willingly, stretching to accommodate him, and the spike of pleasure that lances through you when he bottoms out is almost enough to send your oversensitive body over the edge again, your walls fluttering around him.

There’s an unmistakable shift in the air when Hoseok starts up a slow rhythm, leaning down to kiss you again. His lips move against yours, soft and tender, before moving past your jugular and down to the crook of your neck, elongated canines scraping against the delicate skin in a silent question. You wind your arms around his neck and nod, giving him his answer. There’s no need for words.

And then his teeth are sinking into the spot he’s so lovingly scoped out, breaking the skin. Your body collapses into a searing orgasm, and the pleasure intermingles with the pain of the bite until you are delirious, rendered boneless in his grasp. Hoseok’s hips stutter, his pace growing erratic as he soothes the wound over with his tongue.

You’re prepared for the swelling this time, but the fullness still manages to knock all the air out of your lungs, bordering on painful as his knot grows. Hoseok quells your whimpers with tender kisses, the instinct to comfort his mate paramount even as he paints your walls with ropes of creamy white. He traces a path from your lips down to where he’s marked and claimed you as his, imbuing your skin with a litany of praises that warm you from the inside out.

“My mate,” he murmurs, reverent. “Finally.”

You lean into his touch with a tired smile. “Finally? How long have you wanted this?”

His lips curl into a smile against your clavicle. “Ages. If I’m honest, I think I fell in love with you the day you set my tail on fire when we were kids. It’s always been you, {Name}. Only you.”

You can’t help it—you need to hear it from his mouth again. “You love me?”

Hoseok chuckles. “Of course I do. My tricky little minx—my perfect, pretty mate. I love you more than anything.” One hand reaches up to caress your cheek, running along the tender skin beneath your eye before cupping the back of your head so he can mold his mouth to yours. “Love you more than I can even explain,” he breathes, punctuating each word with a kiss. His hands blaze trails down the slopes of your body until he finally anchors below the crook of your legs. “So why don’t you let me show you instead?”

And he does. Over and over that night, and in the two days of his heat that follow, he shows you exactly how he feels. Propriety is forgotten, left by the wayside with his scorned fiancé and marriage. He is yours, and you are his.

Consequences be damned.

⇢ aftermath.

also set in this universe:

[myg]

[hecckyeah]

okay. now that my brain stopped short circuiting for a second, let me address some stuff about the new tbobf episode (which is mostly just me trying to explain it to myself and understand some of the choices that were made because i mean come on, it’s dave filoni and jon favreau we’re talking about. they’re solid.)

first and foremost. I think that “I’m really sad and angry about boba being a side character in his own show, they should have handled this differently,” and “oh my gosh DIN is here and LUKE and AHSOKA and GROGU, I THINK I’M DYING this is AMAZING,” are two sentences that can and should coexist. 

alright. we agree? good. now, some things I’ve been thinking about regarding luke in this episode.

I hated the sequels. if you’ve been following me for any amount of time, you probably know that. I disowned them way back in 2017 when TLJ ruined my life. I’m just about the biggest luke skywalker fan you’ll ever meet, so TLJ feels like a personal betrayal. anyway, so every piece of star wars media I’ve seen since then I’ve taken with more than just a grain of salt. I want to believe things will change but unlike the MCU, I don’t think star wars will branch off into separate realities. there were whispers about that a while ago, but honestly I doubt they’re true. 

all that to say, unfortunately I think they’re slowly, slowly pushing star wars toward that direction. and in doing so, they have to make certain.......choices for certain characters. that means placing doubts in our minds that maybe luke isn’t the perfect peacekeeper we always knew him as.

I HOPE. I hope they prove me wrong. I honest to goodness could not imagine a world where the s*quels are true in every reality.

but. there might be a light at the end of the tunnel, because I don’t think luke’s intentions are wrong at all. and let me explain.

it does seem like luke is the biggest hypocrite ever when he asked grogu to choose between being a jedi and going back to din. but he has a point, and please hear me out on this.

right now, at this stage in grogu’s life, he can’t do both. he’s just a kid, he’s still being shaped and formed into who he’s going to become in however-many-hundred years from now. if he goes off galavanting around with din again, soon he’ll be back to square one. if he spends his life with his dad, until din is old and gone, he won’t be able to go back to luke because luke will probably be gone, too. and by then, who knows if there will be more jedi around able and willing to train grogu as well as luke would have?

grogu is probably one of, if not the most powerful students luke will ever have. he needs to train this kid, set him on a good path before he can be manipulated or changed by other people who want to hurt him or use him for his powers. luke knows all too well what it’s like to be manipulated or wanted for your power. 

when luke placed those two objects in front of grogu, he knew the kid understood the implications of both. he can read his thoughts, remember? 

grogu knows his little heart has to be fully focused on his training in order to succeed. loving people is good, we know that and luke knows that. but there is some truth to the whole letting go of attachment thing. didn’t din do that when he let grogu go? didn’t anakin do that when he yeeted old palps down to his death, knowing it would kill him but finally deciding to be unselfish and let go of a life with luke? even kanan jarrus and ezra bridger both did that, showing immense self sacrifice for the greater good.

now it’s grogu’s turn. if he grabs that armor and says see ya later, he’s being selfish. he misses his dad, and that’s okay. but there’s a greater purpose here, and I think that’s what people don’t realize. the jedi obviously took it to the extreme, but the essence of it is true. 

when luke leaves dagobah during empire strikes back, that might seem like a valiant and wholehearted fuck you to the jedi and their attachment rule, but did no one see where that left him?? he ended up literally almost dead, hanging off a piece of metal under a floating city, with one less hand and a murderbot for a dad. oh, and he got his best friend imprisoned and also left for dead. if leia hadn’t been right there, luke would have died that day.

that was luke learning the meaning behind don’t get attached the hard way. 

attachment doesn’t mean not loving people. love is what brought anakin back from the dark side. but in order to do that, luke had to leave his friends on endor and see the bigger picture. when the emporer is taunting him, saying that his friends will die, he’s obviously distressed. but he’s able to refocus and trust that his mission, his purpose, lies with his father. that’s called letting go of attachment and not letting it blind you.

grogu has to learn the same lesson, but this time he has luke there to guide him.