#In case it wasn't clear. I initially made this during pride month-

[tigibopper]

Since people liked the first Trival image- here's a second one while I'm trying to get the other comfort ship a presentable drawing! (They are bi4bi in my heart-)

[hellomynameisbisexual]

Here's a shortlist of those who realized that I — a cis woman who'd identified as heterosexual for decades of life — was in fact actually bi, long before I realized it myself recently: my sister, all my friends, my boyfriend, and the TikTok algorithm.

On TikTok, the relationship between user and algorithm is uniquely (even sometimes uncannily) intimate. An app which seemingly contains as many multitudes of life experiences and niche communities as there are people in the world, we all start in the lowest common denominator of TikTok. Straight TikTok (as it's popularly dubbed) initially bombards your For You Page with the silly pet videos and viral teen dances that folks who don't use TikTok like to condescendingly reduce it to.

Quickly, though, TikTok begins reading your soul like some sort of divine digital oracle, prying open layers of your being never before known to your own conscious mind. The more you use it, the more tailored its content becomes to your deepest specificities, to the point where you get stuff that's so relatable that it can feel like a personal attack (in the best way) or (more dangerously) even a harmful trigger from lifelong traumas.

For example: I don't know what dark magic (read: privacy violations) immediately clued TikTok into the fact that I was half-Brazilian, but within days of first using it, Straight TikTok gave way to at first Portuguese-speaking then broader Latin TikTok. Feeling oddly seen (being white-passing and mostly American-raised, my Brazilian identity isn't often validated), I was liberal with the likes, knowing that engagement was the surefire way to go deeper down this identity-affirming corner of the social app.

TikTok made lots of assumptions from there, throwing me right down the boundless, beautiful, and oddest multiplicities of Alt TikTok, a counter to Straight TikTok's milquetoast mainstreamness.

Home to a wide spectrum of marginalized groups, I was giving out likes on my FYP like Oprah, smashing that heart button on every type of video: from TikTokers with disabilities, Black and Indigenous creators, political activists, body-stigma-busting fat women, and every glittering shade of the LGBTQ cornucopia. The faves were genuine, but also a way to support and help offset what I knew about the discriminatory biases in TikTok's algorithm.

My diverse range of likes started to get more specific by the minute, though. I wasn't just on general Black TikTok anymore, but Alt Cottagecore Middle-Class Black Girl TikTok (an actual label one creator gave her page's vibes). Then it was Queer Latina Roller Skating Girl TikTok, Women With Non-Hyperactive ADHD TikTok, and then a double whammy of Women Loving Women (WLW) TikTok alternating between beautiful lesbian couples and baby bisexuals.

Looking back at my history of likes, the transition from queer “ally” to “salivating simp” is almost imperceptible.

There was no one precise "aha" moment. I started getting "put a finger down" challenges that wouldn't reveal what you were putting a finger down for until the end. Then, 9-fingers deep (winkwink), I'd be congratulated for being 100% bisexual. Somewhere along the path of getting served multiple WLW Disney cosplays in a single day and even dom lesbian KinkTok roleplay — or whatever the fuck Bisexual Pirate TikTok is — deductive reasoning kind of spoke for itself.

But I will never forget the one video that was such a heat-seeking missile of a targeted attack that I was moved to finally text it to my group chat of WLW friends with a, "Wait, am I bi?" To which the overwhelming consensus was, "Magic 8 Ball says, 'Highly Likely.'"

Serendipitously posted during Pride Month, the video shows a girl shaking her head at the caption above her head, calling out confused and/or closeted queers who say shit like, "I think everyone is a LITTLE bisexual," to the tune of "Closer" by The Chainsmokers. When the lyrics land on the word "you," she points straight at the screen — at me — her finger and inquisitive look piercing my hopelessly bisexual soul like Cupid's goddamn arrow.

Oh no, the voice inside my head said, I have just been mercilessly perceived.

As someone who had, in fact, done feminist studies at a tiny liberal arts college with a gender gap of about 70 percent women, I'd of course dabbled. I've always been quick to bring up the Kinsey scale, to champion a true spectrum of sexuality, and to even declare (on multiple occasions) that I was, "straight, but would totally fuck that girl!"

Oh no, the voice inside my head returned, I've literally just been using extra words to say I was bi.

After consulting the expertise of my WLW friend group (whose mere existence, in retrospect, also should've clued me in on the flashing neon pink, purple, and blue flag of my raging bisexuality), I ran to my boyfriend to inform him of the "news."

"Yeah, baby, I know. We all know," he said kindly.

"How?!" I demanded.

Well for one, he pointed out, every time we came across a video of a hot girl while scrolling TikTok together, I'd without fail watch the whole way through, often more than once, regardless of content. (Apparently, straight girls do not tend to do this?) For another, I always breathlessly pointed out when we'd pass by a woman I found beautiful, often finding a way to send a compliment her way. ("I'm just a flirt!" I used to rationalize with a hand wave, "Obvs, I'm not actually sexually attracted to them!") Then, I guess, there were the TED Talk-like rants I'd subject him to about the thinly veiled queer relationship in Adventure Time between Princess Bubblegum and Marcelyne the Vampire Queen — which the cowards at Cartoon Network forced creators to keep as subtext!

And, well, when you lay it all out like that...

But my TikTok-fueled bisexual awakening might actually speak less to the omnipotence of the app's algorithm, and more to how heteronormativity is truly one helluva drug.

Sure, TikTok bombarded me with the thirst traps of my exact type of domineering masc lady queers, who reduced me to a puddle of drool I could no longer deny. But I also recalled a pivotal moment in college when I briefly questioned my heterosexuality, only to have a lesbian friend roll her eyes and chastise me for being one of those straight girls who leads Actual Queer Women on. I figured she must know better. So I never pursued any of my lady crushes in college, which meant I never experimented much sexually, which made me conclude that I couldn't call myself bisexual if I'd never had actual sex with a woman. I also didn't really enjoy lesbian porn much, though the fact that I'd often find myself fixating on the woman during heterosexual porn should've clued me into that probably coming more from how mainstream lesbian porn is designed for straight men.

The ubiquity of heterormativity, even when unwittingly perpetrated by members of the queer community, is such an effective self-sustaining cycle. Aside from being met with queer-gating (something I've since learned bi folks often experience), I had a hard time identifying my attraction to women as genuine attraction, simply because it felt different to how I was attracted to men.

Heteronormativity is truly one helluva drug.

So much of women's sexuality — of my sexuality — can feel defined by that carnivorous kind of validation you get from men. I met no societal resistance in fully embodying and exploring my desire for men, either (which, to be clear, was and is insatiable slut levels of wanting that peen.) But in retrospect, I wonder how many men I slept with not because I was truly attracted to them, but because I got off on how much they wanted me.

My attraction to women comes with a different texture of eroticism. With women (and bare with a baby bi, here), the attraction feels more shared, more mutual, more tender rather than possessive. It's no less raw or hot or all-consuming, don't get me wrong. But for me at least, it comes more from a place of equality rather than just power play. I love the way women seem to see right through me, to know me, without us really needing to say a word.

I am still, as it turns out, a sexual submissive through-and-through, regardless of what gender my would-be partner is. But, ignorantly and unknowingly, I'd been limiting my concept of who could embody dominant sexual personas to cis men. But when TikTok sent me down that glorious rabbit hole of masc women (who know exactly what they're doing, btw), I realized my attraction was not to men, but a certain type of masculinity. It didn't matter which body or genitalia that presentation came with.

There is something about TikTok that feels particularly suited to these journeys of sexual self-discovery and, in the case of women loving women, I don't think it's just the prescient algorithm. The short-form video format lends itself to lightning bolt-like jolts of soul-bearing nakedness, with the POV camera angles bucking conventions of the male gaze, which entrenches the language of film and TV in heterosexual male desire.

In fairness to me, I'm far from the only one who missed their inner gay for a long time — only to have her pop out like a queer jack-in-the-box throughout a near year-long quarantine that led many of us to join TikTok. There was the baby bi mom, and scores of others who no longer had to publicly perform their heterosexuality during lockdown — only to realize that, hey, maybe I'm not heterosexual at all?

Flooded with video after video affirming my suspicions, reflecting my exact experiences as they happened to others, the change in my sexual identity was so normalized on TikTok that I didn't even feel like I needed to formally "come out." I thought this safe home I'd found to foster my baby bisexuality online would extend into the real world.

But I was in for a rude awakening.

Testing out my bisexuality on other platforms, casually referring to it on Twitter, posting pictures of myself decked out in a rainbow skate outfit (which I bought before realizing I was queer), I received nothing but unquestioning support and validation. Eventually, I realized I should probably let some members of my family know before they learned through one of these posts, though.

Daunted by the idea of trying to tell my Latina Catholic mother and Swiss Army veteran father (who's had a crass running joke about me being a "lesbian" ever since I first declared myself a feminist at age 12), I chose the sibling closest to me. Seeing as how gender studies was one of her majors in college too, I thought it was a shoo-in. I sent an off-handed, joke-y but serious, "btw I'm bi now!" text, believing that's all that would be needed to receive the same nonchalant acceptance I found online.

It was not.

I didn't receive a response for two days. Hurt and panicked by what was potentially my first mild experience of homophobia, I called them out. They responded by insisting we need to have a phone call for such "serious" conversations. As I calmly tried to express my hurt on said call, I was told my text had been enough to make this sibling worry about my mental wellbeing. They said I should be more understanding of why it'd be hard for them to (and I'm paraphrasing) "think you were one way for twenty-eight years" before having to contend with me deciding I was now "something else."

But I wasn't "something else," I tried to explain, voice shaking. I hadn't knowingly been deceiving or hiding this part of me. I'd simply discovered a more appropriate label. But it was like we were speaking different languages. Other family members were more accepting, thankfully. There are many ways I'm exceptionally lucky, my IRL environment as supportive as Baby Bi TikTok. Namely, I'm in a loving relationship with a man who never once mistook any of it as a threat, instead giving me all the space in the world to understand this new facet of my sexuality.

I don't have it all figured out yet. But at least when someone asks if I listen to Girl in Red on social media, I know to answer with a resounding, "Yes," even though I've never listened to a single one of her songs. And for now, that's enough.

[a-blue-secret]

CHAPTER XI

BACK TO MASTERLIST

Chapter X | Chapter XI | Chapter XII

GENRES: royal au; fantasy au; magic au; friends-to-enemies-to-lovers; king!beomgyu, vizier!taehyun

PAIRING: taegyu

WARNINGS: swearing, homophobia

WORD COUNT: 7.6k+

SUMMARY: Best friends turned enemies, Kang Taehyun has managed to trick Choi Beomgyu into his service, and to rule for a year and a day, until his youngest brother would be old enough to take the throne. Choi Beomgyu has no intention of being obedient however, and tries to thwart Taehyun’s orders at every turn. With a growing amount of distrust and lies within the court, will Taehyun manage to keep the kingdom of Gojongja from falling apart?

That night, Yeonjun closed the door to his chambers with a sigh. It was unusually quiet in his room, and the silence made him feel even more unsettled. Not even bothering to take off his boots, he trudged towards the bed and sat down, crossing his legs. He rubbed his forehead, conflicted.

Yeonjun's was loyal. That was one of his best qualities. He was loyal, and unwavering, and always stuck by his allies. It was what he was always admired for, and he prided himself on this trait. This was why Yeonjun was good. He did things without question, without complaint, and he did them well. He always did. Without fail. So why was he struggling this time?

Yeonjun squeezed his eyes tight, scrunching up the sheets into his fists. Everything was just so confusing. He took a deep breath, and tried to unclench his hands from the bedsheets. He'd start from the beginning. The beginning of this whole mess. Maybe then it'd make sense.

.・゜-: ✧ :-

On the night of the Crown Handing, Yeonjun stepped out of the carriage, looking up at the Gojongja palace. It was grand, there was no doubt about it. He gave a small grin. Big castle, lots of people. This would be easy. He made his way up the palace steps, and walked through the large double doors to the ballroom. The grin spread further across his face. This was going to be so easy.

.・゜-: ✧ :-

Easy? It looked like there were some complications regarding that matter, but that wasn't going to change anything for him. Though lots of unexpected events had happened during the Crown Handing, which had momentarily thrown Yeonjun off. However, after some discussion with his superior, it was decided that things would still go ahead as planned. And so, here he was, standing in his little corner away from everyone else.

He stared at the rest of the ballroom, bored, tapping his fingers mindlessly against a marble column. It was the second month of revels (month! It had been two months !), and Yeonjun’s patience was wearing thin.He was surprised by how long coronation celebrations were lasting. Was it because there was a new clan on the throne? He didn't know, but it was becoming tiring. He'd been told to make the proposition towards the end of the celebration period, but the celebrations had been going on for days with no sign of stopping. Yeonjun swirled the wine in its glass, looking at the King's Corner which was separated from the rest of the ballroom by a thick lace veil. He sighed, putting down the glass. Whatever . He'd have to do it sooner or later, and he might as well do it now just in case revels ended abruptly. And so, he straightened his uniform, and made his way to the King's Corner.

.・゜-: ✧ :-

Kang Taehyun. Yeonjun had been told to be cautious around the Kang, since he was notorious for his quick wit and shrewd observations. Yeonjun thought back to the Crown Handing. It was unusual. The youngest Kang had been named the heir, and yet somehow a whole new clan had managed to ascend to the throne. And Kang Taehyun had played a part in it. A rather large part. But, it wasn't Yeonjun's job to worry about what clan was on the throne. He had a different job.

“Why has your monarch not come to discuss this herself?” Kang Taehyun asked, and Yeonjun saw his hand coming to rest on the sword by his hip. “Why send a representative?”

Yeonjun gazed at him, eyes piercing. The vizier's face remained expressionless, and after a beat, the Aruyeonan toned down his glare. He knew his eyes were unnerving – though amber eyes were becoming increasingly common, they were still rare – but the vizier didn't seem to be unsettled by them at all. Yeonjun blinked lazily, and gave a laugh.

"Will you always let your vizier speak for you?" he asked King Beomgyu. The King gave a not-so-subtle glare to the vizier standing by his side. Yeonjun took a mental note of the hostile look. This could be interesting.

Eventually, Yeonjun managed to convince the King to agree to an alliance. Well, he'd managed to convince the King to consider, and that was as good as done in his book. Part one: complete. Next was the more difficult, more lengthy part two.

.・゜-: ✧ :-

Walking out of the Discussion and Tactics room after meeting with Kang Taehyun, Yeonjun felt a sense of satisfaction settle over him. The vizier had agreed to all of Aruyeo's terms. Every single one, and hadn’t seemed dissatisfied with them at all. Queen Erajin sure had a way of manipulating her words to make it seem as if Gojongja would benefit the most. He glanced back, and saw the vizier coming out of the room, and seemed to put something into his pocket. The satisfaction faded from Yeonjun’s face. He’d forgotten about that. He’d forgotten about the thing he’d put in the room. Taehyun wouldn’t know what it was, anyway… right? He shook his head, shrugging. The device was Aruyeonan: no one in Gojongja would know what it was. Yeonjun walked away, humming.

.・゜-: ✧ :-

Yeonjun laughed, looking fondly at Beomgyu. It was odd. He'd initially planned to find out information about the court, but he'd ended up befriending the King. Beomgyu was a couple of years younger than him, and was, frankly, adorable. Yeonjun watched as he pouted, trying to focus on the target. His stance looked good, but the moment he released the arrow, Yeonjun could tell it wouldn’t go anywhere near the target. He chuckled and turned to his own target, drawing and releasing his own arrow with barely a glance to where it landed. Beside him, Beomgyu clapped, and he grinned before playfully bowing.

“I did say I was a master at archery,” he said. He smiled as the young king began rambling excitedly. This was going well.

.・゜-: ✧ :-

Yeonjun followed Taehyun down the hallways, trying to get the vizier’s attention.

“So… Taehyun? Kang? Grand Vizier? What do I call you?” Yeonjun watched as Taehyun, now in the Palace Library, bent down to search for a book. He internally panicked when he realised which section of the library they were in. Magical Objects. He found out?

“Okay, so Sir Taehyun…” Yeonjun trailed off, his focus becoming undone. Why was he here again? He heard Taehyun click his tongue irritatedly, standing up to look at him.

“Was there anything else you needed?” he asked, annoyance clear in his tone.

Taehyun obviously wasn’t in the mood. And Yeonjun knew that he’d be able to get nothing out of the vizier in the state he was in.

After apologising for disturbing Taehyun, Yeonjun left, telling himself he’d try again later.

.・゜-: ✧ :-

Nimbly, he passed through the halls, skipping past windows before he reached a set of doors. Yeonjun pushed them open and yawned, stretching his arms wide. He grinned. He was glad that he’d managed to acquire and memorise a floorplan of the Gojongja palace before he came, because he’d ended up just where he’d wanted to go. It was morning, and very few people were out and about. Striding down the path, he whistled to himself as he walked into the forest.

“Hmm…. this should do it.”

Yeonjun walked through the forest and came upon a clearing. It was sectioned off from the rest of the forest by a ring of trees, and you wouldn’t be able to see it unless you were explicitly looking for it. Perfect. Just to make sure, Yeonjun looked around before he reached into his pocket to pick up the device. He threw it into the air, and the marble spread open to reveal a hologram of a person.

Yeonjun beamed. “Hueningkai! My little bro!”

The hologram, or Hueningkai, laughed. “Yeonjun! My big bro! How do you like this new marble?”

“It’s so epic,” Yeonjun said, smiling. “You’re a bit blurry, but it’s still so cool. You made this? By yourself?”

Hueningkai laughed again. “You sound surprised. All the marbles are things I made by myself. This one’s a prototype. I wasn’t sure it would work properly, but looks like it does.”

“How does alchemy have anything to do with this though?” Yeonjun asked curiously.

“It has everything to do with it. It’s the chemicals and magic which help make this possible. But anyway, we don’t have that much time. How are things going?”

“It’s going well. The people here are nicer than I thought. Especially Beomgyu. He’s so excitable and bubbly and naive, it’s cute. It’s funny how he can’t do standing archery but he’s amazing on horseback, and how he’s so good at fencing but trips over his own feet a lot.”

“Beomgyu?” Hueningkai’s eyes lit up. “You mean the Beomgyu who came to Aruyeo three years ago and was really nice to me?”

Yeonjun smiled. “Yes, that Beomgyu. Didn’t I tell you? He’s the king now.”

Hueningkai clapped his hands happily. “How is he like? Does he remember you? Does he remember me?”

“He doesn’t remember me, because I was away on a mission, remember? But he does remember you.” Yeonjun laughed endearingly as Hueningkai smiled widely. “Yeah, I get why you became friends with Beomgyu. He’s so much like you.”

“He is, isn’t he? But anyway, I didn’t mean Beomgyu. I meant the mission.”

“O- oh. Yeah. It’s… going. Ish. Like I said, he’s naive. Beomgyu opens up really easily. The servants here are loyal, but will relax if they think you’re just making small talk. Oh–the marble you told me to put into the Discussion and Tactics room? I think Taehyun found it.”

“Oh,” he said, frowning. “But he won’t know what it is, right?”

“I hope so,” Yeonjun sighed. “By the way, which one is it?”

“What do you mean?”

“What does the marble do?”

“Oh, that one’s also a prototype. It’s an eavesdropper combined with a data collector. It’s one of the only hybrids I’ve made.”

Yeojun frowned. “So then what’s the trinitrotoluene doing in there?”

“For it to self-destruct,” Hueningkai explained. “If anyone tries to pierce the glass, it’ll explode.”

“Ah. So that no one will be able to access the data apart from you?” Hueningkai nodded. “Smart. But… will it be okay, now that it’s not in the Discussion and Tactics room?”

“Oh, it’s fine,” Hueningkai dismissed. “All we needed were records that Gojongja agreed to our terms. It’ll be fine for now, until we have to retrieve it. Do you know where it is?”

“Unfortunately, no,” Yeonjun sighed. “The last I saw, Taehyun had it, but I’m not sure where it is now.”

“That’s fine. We’ll get to it when we get to it.” Through the hologram, Yeonjun saw Hueningkai sit down on a chair. “So do you know specifically what you’re looking for?”

“Um, not really. It’s just the general things I’m usually told to look for. When I’ve gotten enough, I’ll report back, then they’ll tell me if I need to find more. That’s how it always is.” Yeonjun folded his arms, leaning on his other leg. “How are things with you? Doing anything interesting?”

Hueningkai’s eyes lit up. “In fact, I am! You know how seers often have crystal gazing balls?”

“No way,” Yeonjun gasped, bringing a hand to his mouth. “Don’t tell me you found a way to make them!”

Hueningkai laughed happily. “God, no! But close! It’s like a looking-glass thing. It can help you see what’s happening somewhere else at that exact moment. So it can’t see the future, but it can see present events.”

“How does that work?”

“I need some part of that person’s DNA to do it,” Hueningkai explained. “Like a hair or a drop of saliva. Then, I can use it to see what they are doing.” He frowned. “At least, theoretically I can. Right now, all it shows me are their feet.”

Yeonjun snorted, and Hueningkai gave an embarrassed smile. Yeonjun was going to say something else, but then twig snapped. Yeonjun turned around, startled. “Sorry Hyuka, but I think someone’s here. Gotta go, talk to you later!” Yeonjun quickly waved a hand through the hologram, making it flicker and disappear. He looked around, trying to find the culprit of the noise. Then, a horse stepped through the trees, and bent down to graze under a birch. Its pale red scales reflected the sun, and Yeonjun startled slightly at its odd appearance, but quickly relaxed.

“Hey there,” he said softly, approaching it. “You’re a right beauty, aren’t you?” The horse looked up, and watched calmly as Yeonjun approached. “Should I take you back? Perhaps.” He stroked the horse’s muzzle, making sure it was calm, before swinging his leg over its back. “Maybe I’ll show Beomgyu this place too. He might like it.”

As he was riding back, it didn’t even cross his mind that he’d wanted to show Beomgyu the clearing purely because he wanted to see the king smile.

.・゜-: ✧ :-

Yeonjun watched as Taehyun swiftly began to eat, completely ignoring his presence. He pursed his lips in irritation. The vizier was a tough nut to crack. What might break his shell? Yeonjun thought back to that afternoon, when Taehyun had sarcastically mentioned Beomgyu going on a date. Ah. Beomgyu.

“Sir?”

Taehyun looked up at him, annoyed, swallowing a mouthful of food.

“Forgive me for seeming rude, but… why is it that you don’t seem to like anyone at all?”

Yeonjun watched his face carefully, and saw Taehyun’s facial features become just a little more guarded.

“Well,” he began slowly. “You never know who you can trust.” Taehyun looked up at Yeonjun. “Some people just aren’t… trustworthy.”

He’s not onto me, is he? Yeonjun smiled mildly. “I understand that. But with people you know, why is it that you still don’t like them?”

Taehyun’s face became a little more weary, and he set down his cutlery. “You’re talking about Beomgyu, aren’t you? In his case, I suppose… just because you know someone well doesn’t mean you like them.”

“But judging by how Beomgyu talked, you did like him for a time?” Yeonjun startled a little as the cutlery clattered out of Taehyun’s hands, onto the ceramic plate.

“Don’t speak of such things like that,” Taehyun said in a quiet, fierce voice. Yeonjun’s eyebrow raised ever so slightly. He’d forgotten how homophobic Gojongja were. “And just because we used to be friends doesn’t mean we’re friends now. Things change.”

Yeonjun, after composing himself, nodded thoughtfully. He now knew a little about how Taehyun worked. He was a true Gojongja citizen. A smart one at that. He won’t like to have his mistakes pointed out to him, will he…?

“You do know that the whole business of Beomgyu being King is odd, don’t you? Especially since I can gather that you two are enemies. Additionally, on the day of the Crown Handing it almost looked like you’d planned to make Beomgyu king.”

Yeonjun watched Taehyun carefully, and was rewarded when the vizier looked up at him sharply. He smiled inwardly, and calmly turned to his food. “I’m just saying what it looked like.” Yeonjun took a big bite out of his meal, ignoring Taehyun’s piercing stare. The vizier was obviously shaken by the comment. As he chewed, Yeonjun thought about his own words. Perhaps the observation he’d made had some truth in it. Had Taehyun planned to let Beomgyu take the throne? Out of the corner of his eye, he watched as Taehyun sipped his drink worriedly. Kang Taehyun… you’re an interesting one. Are you hiding anything else?

.・゜-: ✧ :-

Yeonjun looked around, scratching his head. “I swear I’ve been here before,” he muttered. “Did I take a wrong turn?” He spun on his heel, staring at the tapestry behind him. “How could I have ended up here?”

“Excuse me? Sir?”

Yeonjun turned around to see a small servant girl looking up at him.

“If you don’t mind, are you lost?”

Yeonjun blinked, and gave a small chuckle. “Yes, it appears I am.” He looked around at the many corridors. “I am very lost.”

The girl beamed. “Oh, that’s okay! This is a very big palace, so it’s understandable. When I first came, I became lost many times too. Where is it that you want to go?”

“His Greatness’ room, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course! I’ll take you there.”

Yeonjun followed the girl down the hallways silently. They eventually stopped by a door.

“Here we are! I will be on my way now.” The girl bowed, and was about to walk away when Yeonjun called out to her.

“Wait… how old are you?”

“I am eleven, sir.”

“Eleven?! You’re a foreigner, aren’t you? How did you end up working in Gojongja?”

“I fled here with my younger sister. We come from a country which is currently in the middle of a war, and came here because we heard that Gojongja would welcome us.”

“Gojongja? Not Aruyeo?”

“Yes, sir. Gojongja is the place most welcoming of foreigners. To me, it is the kindest of all the Four Kingdoms. Though Aruyeo accept many sexualities, Gojongja accept people from anywhere. They are generous, and kind, and though they may not win every battle like Aruyeo do, they are still strong. I have even come to consider Gojongja my home.” The girl smiled. “The people here are among the nicest I have ever met.”

Yeonjun stood there, before nodding his head slowly. “Well, Gojongja truly is a nice place.”

“It is. I love it with all of my heart.”

Yeonjun bowed his head. “You may leave now.”

“Of course. Have a nice day, sir!” The girl gave another grin, and skipped down the hallway. Yeonjun watched her go. Suddenly, for the first time ever, a small doubt crept its way into his mind. Your Supreme Highness… how can I do such a thing to people like this?

.・゜-: ✧ :-

Yeonjun knocked on the door, and stepped inside. He was taken aback when he registered this was not His Greatness’ room. Yeonjun checked the plaque on the door, and groaned inwardly. The Great Room? Seriously? He looked around and took in the bookshelf taking up one wall, the grand piano in the middle of the room, and the students standing in rows. A music room. Who the hell names their music room ‘The Great Room’?

“Oh! Lord Yeonjun from Aruyeo, am I correct?” the woman smiled pleasantly. “Would you like to stay and watch our music lesson?”

Yeonjun stammered. “I… uh…” He shrugged. “Alright.”

“Wonderful!” The lady clapped her hands happily, and gestured to a seat. “Here, you can have a seat here. Now class, let’s sing again from the top!”

She went over to the grand piano standing in the middle of the room, and began playing. The children sang along to the piano, and the sweet melody washed over Yeonjun. He took in the harmonies, the chorus of voices, the gentle chords of the piano.

Suddenly, a wave of sadness engulfed him. The woman’s piano playing reminded him of Hueningkai. All he could think about was how much Hueningkai loved to play the piano, nimble fingers dancing happily over the keys, coaxing beautiful melodies from even the crankiest pianos. Hueningkai, who was so innocent and painfully optimistic. Hueningkai, who was kind and generous even when the world was not kind and generous to him. Hueningkai, who had only ever wanted to be happy.

Yeonjun blinked, fast, and acknowledged that the song was coming to an end. He clapped politely, a small smile on his face. All these children… so youthful and naive. They reminded him so much of Hueningkai it hurt.

He looked away, out the window. Hueningkai… do you think we’re doing the right thing?

.・゜-: ✧ :-

“Oh, let me help you with that!”

Yeonjun looked up as a young stable boy came rushing up to him, taking some of the horse brushes out of the Aruyeonan’s hands. He looked up, and smiled brightly at Yeonjun.

“It looked like you were having some trouble there, sir! Have you just come back from riding?”

Yeonjun was slightly startled by how kind and friendly the stable boy was being. “I… yes, I have. I was just cleaning up the horse.”

“That’s good, sir,” the stable boy said conversationally, walking with Yeonjun back to the stables. “Most Lords ‘round here, they don’t care ‘bout the horses’ wellbeing. They think it’s up to stable boys like me to keep ‘em clean. Nice to see someone is looking after their horse after they’ve finished riding.”

They arrived at the stable, and the boy helped Yeonjun put the equipment away into the box. He straightened, and gestured to the full bucket of dirty water in Yeonjun’s arms. “Would you like me to take that for you?”

“I- uh, if you want.”

The young boy beamed and took the bucket. “I’ll show you where it ought to be put, if you’d like.”

Yeonjun followed the stable boy silently, rather overwhelmed by his brightness. It was strange. This boy was working such a taxing, gruelling task, looking after horses which were apparently not treated very well by the Lords, and yet he managed to smile and walk with a spring in his step.

“You’re the Aruyeonan, aren’t you?” the boy said brightly, looking up at Yeonjun.

“Y- yes, yes I am.”

“We heard you’re here to form an alliance.” He smiled widely, revealing gappy teeth. “That would be nice. Gojongja have been independent for so long… I wonder what it’s like to have an alliance, to have someone else to support you when you struggle to support yourself, and to be there to support someone when they are stuck. It’s like a friendship, isn’t it? You help each other out.”

Yeonjun decided not to comment on that. The boy’s view on an alliance was a rather childish, innocent one, but Yeonjun didn’t want to tarnish it with cynical truths. “I suppose it is,” he said finally. “You said you’d like an alliance?”

“Yeah! Like I said, Gojongja have been pretty solitary. And I mean, solitude is nice, ‘cause then no one can backstab us or anything, but in an alliance, they’re bound to be trustworthy, right? It’s all about trusting each other. Like a friendship!”

Yeonjun smiled weakly. “Yeah… right…”

Suddenly, the boy’s eyes widened and he clapped his hands over his mouth. “Oh gosh, I just realised I’ve been rambling again! The stable-master always told me off for rambling. I’m so sorry.” He bowed several times. Yeonjun blinked, feeling a little shocked.

“Oh, no, it’s fine,” he said. “Don’t worry about it.” Still the boy’s head remained bowed, so Yeonjun crouched down to look him in the eye. “Don’t apologise for sharing your thoughts,” he said firmly. “Never apologise for speaking out. You are entitled to your own opinion, and you have that right.” He quirked a small grin. “But maybe don’t discuss politics with every Lord you meet. Most of them won’t like it.” The stable boy’s eyes were still wide, but he gave Yeonjun a smile.

“Alright, thank you Mr Aruyeonan!” There was a yell in the distance, and he jumped. “That’s the stable master! I'd better get going! See you, Mr Aruyeonan!”

Yeonjun watched the young boy race back to the stables, and the smile died from his lips. He thought back to what he’d said. “An alliance is like a friendship…?” He shook his head. “No, no it’s not. It’s not. It’s more political and professional than that.” He began to walk back to the palace. Though he tried to dismiss the child’s words, they rang in his head, and an uncomfortable coil settled in the pit of his stomach. “No, he’s young. Don’t think about it, Yeonjun…”

.・゜-: ✧ :-

As these days increased, and Yeonjun grew to know the Gojongja court better and better, the feeling of uneasiness grew. Generally with his missions, he’d always have a specific task in mind, but this time, the topic he'd been given was so broad. Initially, he’d been nervous with having such an ambiguous subject, but now he was nervous because something didn’t feel right. One night, he decided enough was enough. He needed to properly think.

The next morning, he awoke early, letter in hand, when he crossed paths with Beomgyu.

“Your Greatness!” Yeonjun bowed. “You’re up early?”

“Good morning, Yeonjun! And yes, I am! We are to have a revel today, to tell the people about the alliance.” The King took in Yeonjun’s appearance, and tilted his head. “What are you doing up so early? You look like you’re dressed to go somewhere.”

“I want to deliver a letter,” Yeonjun said, showing the envelope for emphasis. “I’m going to deliver it myself, though. This person is someone… who prefers if I come in person.”

“Alright. How will you get there?” Beomgyu took in Yeonjun’s leather gloves, and tall black boots. “You’re riding? All the way to Aruyeo?”

“I hope you don’t mind,” Yeonjun said sheepishly.

“Of course not!” Beomgyu grinned. “I’d offer to let one of our messengers take it for you, but you look adamant about delivering it yourself. Take Orion. He’s most capable of going long-distance.”

Yeonjun bowed. “Thank you, Your Greatness. Good luck with your revel!”

.・゜-: ✧ :-

Riding through the streets of Aruyeo, the people immediately parted to let Yeonjun through. They didn’t question the strange horse and just let him pass. Everyone knew Yeonjun and who he worked for. He thundered through the city, straight towards the castle.

Once Orion had been taken to the Aruyeonan stables - “Handle him carefully, he’s a rare breed, and from Gojongja” - Yeonjun made his way through the hallways, until he was standing in front of a familiar door. He’d barely knocked before it was flung open, the face which greeted him beaming brightly.

“Yeonjun!”

Hueningkai threw his arms around Yeonjun, and the elder laughed, ruffling Hueningkai’s hair. “Kai! How have you been?”

Hueningkai extracted himself, and pulled Yeonjun inside, closing the door firmly behind him. “Oh, you know,” he said, shrugging. “Same old, same old. Make explosives. Make marbles. Find a new chemical combination. Repeat. I haven’t been out of this room since you left, so don’t worry.”

Yeonjun smiled fondly, ruffling Hueningkai’s hair again. “You’re okay, right? No one said anything?”

“No one’s dared to say anything to me in over twelve years,” Hueningkai said, smiling. “It shocked them all when we suddenly rose in the ranks of the Queen’s favour.”

Yeonjun looked sadly at Hueningkai. “I’m sorry we had to go to such extreme measures. It was the only way, you know that right?”

“I’m fine, Yeonjun. It’s okay. But tell me, why are you here? When we talked last night, you were very vague. What’s going on?”

Yeonjun’s face grew grave. “The people in Gojongja are… too nice. But not in like, a suspicious way. They’re just genuinely nice. Everything they do is just so good. I don’t know… I just feel like something isn’t right.”

“What, in Gojongja?”

“No, no. Here. In Aruyeo. In court.”

Hueningkai tilted his head. “I’m not following.”

“It’s just…” Yeonjun bit his lip. “It’s hard to explain. Here in Aruyeo, the atmosphere is… more suffocating, I guess? For me. There are so many secrets within this court, so many lies and half-truths. Hell, we’re one of the secrets. It just feels so stifling. I could feel it as soon as I set foot inside the castle. In Gojongja, though… it just feels a lot lighter. There’s so much trust within their court. I- I can’t explain properly, but when you’re there, it’s so obvious. I wish you could come.”

“Then I will.”

“What?”

“I’ll come. You’re a good people-reader, Yeonjun, but I want to see this for myself. We don’t want to jump to conclusions.” Hueningkai had gotten up, and was rummaging through his drawers for something. He pulled out a large glass ball, smiling proudly. It looked like a huge bubble, and was about the size of a beach ball. “In here are the bare minimum of provisions I packed for myself, if ever the time came when I’d need to leave quickly. I’ve got sand, rock samples, and all sorts of other things which I need to make my marbles.”

Yeonjun gaped in shock. The ball looked completely empty, but he had no doubt about what Hueningkai had said. “Wh… what? How? What chemical combination did you use this time?”

“It’s one my clan taught me,” Hueningkai said. “I was just bored one day and messing around with the chemicals, but then my hands seemed to know what to do almost immediately.”

Yeonjun whistled, impressed. “Benefits of having alchemy as an ability, right? That’s freaky, but so cool.”

Hueningkai flinched at the word ‘freaky’, and Yeonjun’s face quickly morphed into an apologetic expression. “I’m so sorry, Hyuka, I forgot.”

“It’s fine,” Hueningkai muttered. He gave a small smile, and tapped the ball. “I need to make a few adjustments though. Do you wanna rest? I have no doubt you rode all the way from Gojongja to here.”

“As a matter of fact, I did,” Yeonjun admitted. “...Alright. Just a few hours. We need to go soon if we want to get there by sundown. Wake me up when it's time, okay?”

Yeonjun stumbled over to the bed, and as soon as his head touched the pillow, he was fast asleep. Hueningkai watched over his sleeping form, and gently ruffled the elder’s hair.

“I’m the one who should be sorry, Yeonjun. If it wasn’t for me, we could lead normal lives. We wouldn’t have to be spies.”

.・゜-: ✧ :-

The first time Yeonjun had been due to leave for Gojongja, he and Hueningkai had spent many hours poring over the blueprints they’d managed to acquire of Gojongja’s Palace. Their skilful memorisation came in handy at that moment. Hueningkai, under the cover of darkness, managed to slip through the hallways to the room which Yeonjun was staying in, barely bumping into anything on his way. Yeonjun took the longer way round, and as he walked past the ballroom, he gasped. There was so much glass all over the floor, and some small fires were burning through ivy tendrils. He hurried past, conscious of the muddy footprints he was leaving behind. What had happened?

As he rounded a corner, he saw Taehyun standing in the middle of the corridor.

“Sir Taehyun!”

Taehyun turned around, not bothering to hide the frustration on his face.

“I saw all the glass in the ballroom,” Yeonjun said, coming up to the vizier. “And there’s a lot of blood, and some fire. What happened?”

As soon as those words left Yeonjun’s mouth, he knew it wasn’t the right thing to say. Taehyun’s face darkened even further. His mouth twisted into a frown, and he spoke in a sarcastic, annoyed tone.

“Well the announcement went fine. What do you think happened?”

Yeonjun almost backed away from the vizier’s menacing glare.

“Just go to your chambers. Don’t interfere.”

Yeonjun hesitated. He would have been fooled by the vizier’s vicious tone, but there was something decidedly off about it. Behind Taehyun’s fierce mask, he could see how scared and shocked he was. He wanted to reach out and ask him what was wrong, ask him if he was okay. But, deciding that Taehyun was far too emotional to appreciate his help, he bowed, and walked away.

.・゜-: ✧ :-

Hueningkai hummed, tapping the wall. “Doesn’t seem to be much of a bright atmosphere here in Gojongja.”

“You came at the wrong time,” Yeonjun sighed. “The people found out about the alliance in the worst way possible, apparently. So things aren’t going too great right now.” He looked over at Hueningkai. “Are you okay? I just realised it’s probably really boring for you to be here all alone.”

“You worry too much,” Hueningkai dismissed. “I’m fine. We’ll be staying here for a while, right?”

“Yeah. Until things calm down, and the alliance fully takes place, we’ll be in Aruyeo.”

“Okay.” Hueningkai chewed his bottom lip thoughtfully. "Okay. And I'll have to stay in this room, right?"

"Yeah. They don't know you're here, so it's best for you to not leave." Yeonjun sat down in the chair next to Hueningkai. He rubbed his forehead, trying to dispel the headache which was on its way. Hueningkai silently wrapped his arms around the elder, pulling him into a hug.

.・゜-: ✧ :-

The following days, Yeonjun stayed in his room as much as he could. Once, when he had gone out for some fresh air, he’d returned to find his room empty. He’d panicked. A few hours later, though, Hueningkai showed up.

“Hueningkai! Where were you?”

Hueningkai looked at Yeonjun apologetically, seeing the angry and worried look on the elder’s face. “Sorry. I should have told you earlier. I’m building a room.”

“A what?”

“Down there.” Hueningkai pointed to the wall beside the bed. “I’m building a secret room where I can do my experiments without bothering you.”

Yeonjun breathed a sigh of relief. “So long as no one catches you. But please tell me before you do something like that! I literally had a heart attack when I saw you were missing.”

“Don’t worry. I’m a spy, just like you are. I know how to handle myself.”

“That won’t stop me from worrying about you.” Yeonjun ruffled the younger’s hair. “Hueningkai, I know you haven’t been out much, but… you can feel the difference, right?”

The younger hesitated, but nodded his head. “Yeah. I kinda see what you meant. Even though everyone is really stressed and busy here in Gojongja, it doesn’t feel suffocating. It made me realise how stifling the court is back at home.”

“Right?” Yeonjun agreed. “And also, the people here are so nice.”

Hueningkai gazed out into the distance. “I want to be able to see Beomgyu… it’s been ages.”

Yeonjun patted the younger’s shoulder consolingly. “He’ll probably freak if he finds you in the palace, unfortunately, since you’re not meant to be here. Plus, the vizier is super scary and will most likely kick us out before you can even say ‘hi’.”

Hueningkai smiled. “Sir Taehyun is that intimidating, huh?”

Yeonjun fake-shivered. “You have no idea. But still, I’m determined to befriend him.”

.・゜-: ✧ :-

It was late at night. Yeonjun, having trouble sleeping, decided to walk around the palace until he grew tired. His mind was still plagued with the usual troubles, worried about whether he was doing the right thing. He was passing the palace gymnasiums when he heard the familiar swish of a sword being swung in the air. Under one of the gymnasium doors, light streamed out and Yeonjun could make out a long shadow, practising by themselves. He opened the door a sliver to see Taehyun, sparring with the air. His face was slick with sweat, and his breaths came out in laboured pants, yet he still continued to spar. From where he was, Yeonjun could see how his face was scrunched up in concentration, and he winced as he noticed how white his knuckles were around the hilt of the sword.

He didn’t know how, but suddenly he’d grabbed one of the practice swords from the racks and was standing in front of Taehyun, silently sparring with him. Yeonjun registered the look of surprise on the vizier’s face but ignored it, wordlessly pushing him to work harder.

Neither of them said a word. There were no words needed. Yeonjun noticed with some approval that Taehyun’s grip had corrected itself, and his stance looked firmer than before. However, it was no match for Yeonjun’s spy-trained skills, and eventually, with Taehyun being too tired out to notice, Yeonjun managed to bring the blunt edge of his sword up to the vizier’s neck. Both of them were panting heavily. Then, Taehyun spoke.

“I yield.”

Yeonjun stared at him, before registering his words and dropping his blade. He gave a small grin. “You did good.”

Taehyun abruptly turned away from him, walking over to the water table. “Why are you here?”

Yeonjun followed him, giving an explanation as to why he was there. It was made of half-truths, since he didn’t want to give anything away about what he was actually doing. He took a big gulp of water and set down the glass, shaking his head in fake disappointment. “You were so stressed that you were tensing up your wrists far too much.” Yeonjun saw as Taehyun’s eyebrow twitched irritatedly. Even in his worn-out state, the vizier still hated his mistakes pointed out to him.

“And was it because I was stressed?”

“Yeah.” Yeonjun poured himself another glass of water. “When you actually spar, your technique is crazy good.” Taehyun didn’t say anything for a few moments, and his face gave nothing away. Yeonjun worried he’d overstepped some line, and set down his glass. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have interrupted you. You haven’t wanted to see me in the hallways, so I don’t know why I thought it’d be alright to see you while you were sparring. If you want, I can go now.”

Yeonjun was turning away when Taehyun suddenly spoke.

“Your technique is really good. The Falcon Twist - I haven’t seen someone perform it that well before.”

Yeonjun felt a swell of pride, and looked back with a grin. Taehyun continued talking, looking a little nervous.

“Also, the way you attack is so fast. And when you defend, as well.”

Yeonjun couldn’t help but smile wider, a strange warmth blooming in his chest. He walked back to the vizier, and held out his hand. A peace offering. “Want me to teach you?”

.・゜-: ✧ :-

They kept up the routine for several more days. At night, Yeonjun would always come down to find Taehyun already deep in the middle of practice, and the two would just spar wordlessly until they took their first break. From then on, they'd discuss tactics, techniques, and how to improve their strategies. With time, their discussions gradually moved towards more personal things, and Taehyun began to open up more. He told Yeonjun of his worries about being the Grand Vizier, and the stress and toll it was taking on him.

When Yeonjun returned to his room one night after sparring with Taehyun, flopping onto the bed, Hueningkai made an observation.

"I think you're genuinely trying to befriend this Kang Taehyun."

Yeonjun turned his head, facing the younger. "About that. I think I'm going to stop with this mission."

Hueningkai, who had been focused on building a house of cards, suddenly stood up, knocking the fragile structure over. "Are you crazy?! If she finds out, she's gonna kill you!"

"I know. But I'm trusting my gut here. Before, I felt no remorse doing these things to other Kingdoms, but here… even just thinking of betraying these people makes me feel sick. I just can't do it." He thought to the foreign servant girl who spoke of Gojongja with such love in her eyes. He thought to the young children, singing and learning music without a care in the world. He thought to the young stable boy, bright-eyed and talkative, who had seemed to see nothing but the good things in life. Lastly, he thought of Taehyun and Beomgyu, who spoke of their Kingdom with such love and passion, who were such truly good people that they made him doubt everything in the first place. Closing his eyes, he brought his hands to his face. “I just can’t.”

Hueningkai looked scandalised. "I don't believe it! How good must a person be to make you want to stop? You've been a fervent ally of Queen Erajin for more than a decade. Who could break this loyalty?"

Yeonjun sat up. "Wait– I’ll show you. Tomorrow night, come down with me. I can’t show you everything, but I can show you the one who made the most difference. You can hide in the shadows. Then you’ll see just how good they are. Then you'll see what kind of person Taehyun is."

.・゜-: ✧ :-

That following night, Yeonjun pushed open the doors to find Taehyun in a rather different position.

“Sup,” he said, and Taehyun opened his eyes, unfolding himself from the yoga position he’d been in.

“Hello. I decided to do a bit of stretching today.”

Yeonjun kicked off his boots, and saw Hueningkai standing in a hidden alcove. The younger crouched down and gave Yeonjun a thumbs up. He looked back to Taehyun. “Do you have a routine in mind?”

And just like that, the two settled into their silent routine. They both did their own stretches in their own time, relishing the silence between them. It was all quiet, until Taehyun spoke.

“Everything is so fucking stressful right now.”

Yeonjun, head upside down, quirked an eyebrow. We’re going straight to the confiding, are we? Yeonjun listened as Taehyun ranted out his worries, detailing everything and how it was affecting people. He didn’t talk, didn’t interrupt; he just listened silently, letting Taehyun speak for as long as he needed to.

Taehyun sighed, and sat back. “I really care about these people. Beomgyu said we shouldn’t employ the military, but I think we should. The people won’t fight against them, I know it; it’s just to scare them and deter them from rebelling. But every time I try to explain that to Beomgyu, he won’t listen.”

“Then do it.”

“Huh?”

Yeonjun was feeling Taehyun’s confusion at that moment too. He didn’t know why he spoke. But now that he had, he couldn’t stop. He tilted his head. “Do you think it’s a dumb decision? The one that Beomgyu made.”

Taehyun’s face twisted in confusion, unsure where this was headed. “Uh… not really? I can see why he might not want to use force. But he didn’t see that it’s just to scare them.”

Yeonjun sighed. Taehyun always took things too seriously! “Answer the question in a proper way. I’m tryna help you here.”

“Okay…?” Taehyun said, confused. “In that case… yeah. It’s a dumb decision.”

Yeonjun grinned. “Okay, so you can just say that Beomgyu made a decision, but because it’s a stupid-ass decision, you’ve decided to ignore it.”

Taehyun blinked. Yeonjun could see the gears turning inside his brain. A smile spread across the vizier’s face. “I like your thinking.” He scrambled up onto his feet, tugging on his boots. “I gotta go inform the Head General! Bye!”

Yeonjun smiled as the vizier rushed out of the gymnasium, then he remembered Hueningkai. He looked back.

“So? Do you get what I mean?”

Hueningkai came out of the shadows to slowly sit down beside Yeonjun. “I do,” he said. “Yeonjun… I think you’re right. Let’s change sides.”

.・゜-: ✧ :-

Now that Hueningkai had agreed with him, Yeonjun felt more sure than ever. He spent his time actually befriending Taehyun, instead of ‘befriending’ him to earn his trust. Though there were still secrets, Yeonjun was determined to eventually clear them away.

“Hey Taehyun?”

“Hm?”

"Do you… do you remember, about four days before the revel? I requested you come visit for some bonding time?"

"Oh yeah. Sorry about that. I wasn't in a good mood."

"It's fine. I just…" Yeonjun hesitated. Should I tell him now? Or should I wait? "Let me know when you properly trust me, okay?"

Taehyun blinked, but smiled. "Alright. I will.”

.・゜-: ✧ :-

“Yeonjun!”

Yeonjun turned around, and his face melted into a grin as he saw Taehyun approach.

“How are you?”

“I’m doing good. Have you talked with the Head General yet?”

“That’s actually where I’m headed,” Taehyun replied. “They don’t have a lot of time, but I’m going to meet with a representative who’ll figure out when we can sit down and talk.”

“Nice!” Yeonjun grinned. “How will Beomgyu react?”

“He’ll probably flip if he finds out,” Taehyun admitted. “But he just really cares about the people. Hopefully he can see that this won’t harm them.”

“Fingers crossed, then!”

“Yup. Fingers crossed.” Taehyun paused, as if he’d remembered something. “Oh yeah. I don’t know if it’s too soon, but…” Taehyun reached out a hand and patted Yeonjun’s shoulder. “I trust you. Properly.” He gave a small grin to the Aruyeonan, and walked away. Yeonjun blinked as the vizier turned the corner, and a smile spread across his face but quickly died. He’d just spotted someone in the distance. He squinted, but the person was already gone. Was that…? He shook his head. It couldn’t have been. He was just seeing things. Yeonjun looked back the way Taehyun had come, and his stomach filled with nerves.

“He trusts me now,” Yeonjun murmured to himself. “It’s now or never.”

.・゜-: ✧ :-

That brought them back to that day. Yeonjun sighed, looking up at the ceiling. The soft pads of feet alerted him to Hueningkai’s presence.

“Sir Yoongi is in Gojongja now.”

Hueningkai paused. Even in the darkness, Yeonjun could see his eyes widen. Yeonjun spoke again.

“He’s their Antiquarian.”

“You mean… my Sir Yoongi? The mentor Sir Yoongi, who taught spies alchemy?” Hueningkai asked. “The one who disappeared years ago?”

“The very same one.” Yeonjun pulled a pillow over his face and sighed into it. “He knew, Hueningkai. He knew something was wrong with Gojongja, even before we did.”

Hueningkai was silent. “He’s lived in Aruyeo for a very long time. He probably noticed the changes.”

“That’s what he said. He said he could feel the changes in the atmosphere.” Yeonjun peeked under the pillow. “Also, he’s figured out it was you who made that marble. The one I planted in the Discussion and Tactics room.”

“Oh, that marble… he won’t be able to figure it out what it does though. To examine it, he’ll need to break the glass, which he knows will make the marble explode. He won’t try it. Don't worry about that.” They were silent for several moments. Hueningkai looked over at Yeonjun. “Yeonjun… maybe we should tell Taehyun. He said he trusts you, and even if his trust isn’t enough, we should tell him before someone else does.”

“That’s what I was thinking.” Yeonjun took the pillow away from his face, and Hueningkai promptly snatched it and hugged it to his chest. “I’ll tell him tomorrow. Definitely.” Yeonjun sighed, nestling into the blankets. “I just hope he doesn’t hate us by the end of it…”

[lostimpactprod]

Vic's Lawsuit Dismissed - A Personal Reflection

17 charges. All dismissed. Something I always hoped would happen, but even now I can't fully express the relief I have for the people involved in this case which has caused so much stress for me over the last 9 months.

Vic Mignogna's lawsuit against Funimation, Monica Rial, Jamie Marchi and Ron Toye was for all extents and purposes an embarrassing waste of time and human resources. A desperate attempt to shut up these individuals for giving survivors a voice. Dozens of women who alleged sexual harassment/assault at the hands of Mignogna over three decades. Two of them Monica and Jamie themselves.

It didn't have to go this way. Had Vic simply took a break after the initial allegations and made the effort to seek help for his behaviour (like he said he would back in February), his career may have had a chance of recovering. I can't say he would have been so easily forgiven, but if he truly learned from his mistakes and made sincere efforts to redeem himself, it could have happened. Whether it was down to ego or pride though, Vic just couldn't do it.

This past year has been a living hell, not just for the victims, but for the thousands of fans who chose to believe them in the face of extreme hostility from Vic's supporters. We've all seen the lurid clickbait videos accusing the defendants of lying, exploiting the man's firing to steal voice roles or even being just as guilty as Vic for telling raunchy/offensive jokes in a recording booth (clearly there's a strong difference between that and making people uncomfortable from not keeping your hands to yourself, but I digress).

I myself was subject to derision from fans of Vic on here and on Twitter for openly supporting Monica Rial and challenging misinformation about the case spread by the blackface-wearing, trust fund-exploiting, alcohol-abusing, less-than-five-years-law-experience grifter who convinced the guy to sue in the first place. It wasn't very nice to say the least, but I hold no grudge against those who were simply taken in by Rekieta's charisma without truly knowing all the details only the official court documents can offer (which you can read here, unfiltered).

Now that the case has been dismissed in its entirety, I can only hope the anime community can recover and that Vic's more vocal defenders bring their campaign of harassment to a close. The legitimate fans of Vic who weren't out for blood should honestly be up in arms over the way these people have conducted themselves and destroyed the man's reputation more than his accusers ever could.

I'm not trying to say the anti-Vic side were angels themselves, but whatever blunt statements were made by Jamie Marchi, Amanda Winn-Lee or whoever during this whole mess, they were minor offences compared to the doxxing of victims, baselessly accusing Monica of "wanting Vic to kill himself" or the profiting off harassing the defendants through monetized YouTube uploads the main ISWV voices engaged in on a almost daily basis.

I also pray Vic's exposure and lawsuit being dismissed will send a clear message to those in positions of power. It doesn't matter how many people you enchant with your voice roles or convention appearances. If, at the same time, you are sexually harassing fans and colleagues, robbing them of their dignity, robbing them of their happiness and then hide behind a mob of vindictive YouTubers when you're called out on your behaviour, you can only be a bad person and your legacy will always be toxic.

I write this not to celebrate Vic's defeat, but to provide some closure for myself, who at times felt terribly depressed over my decision to stand up for those I believed in this year. In the end, I believe the quote I asked Monica Rial to sign my Noir poster with earlier this year perfectly sums up the outcome of this horrendous ordeal.

"Hatred can never save anyone!"

Kirika Yuumura, Noir (Episode 25)

[toumakibangs]

Was a time when I wasn't sure, but you set my mind at ease, there is no doubt you're in my heart now

Prompt: “I need you. Right now.”

Jules’ Notes: Look who’s back! TouMaki Month has entered it’s last days and will be protracted for the whole week to allow us to catch up with the missed entries^^ Let’s get back on track right away with some fluff, then!^^

And centered around patience, how appropriate! XD

Makishima is aware that he’s not the easiest person to get along with. As much as Toudou tries to reassure him that he can see beyond his caustic ways and cold demeanour, that he can feel how much Makishima cares, Makishima doesn’t believe it’s enough. It never seems enough, considering how selfish he is. Toudou has given him a lot over the years, but above all, he’s given him patience. Toudoud has accepted his unconventional looks even when it was clear they did not represent a phase. Toudou has learned to walk beside him with pride regardless of Makishima’s outfits. Toudou, sensing the loneliness behind it, has ignored Makishima’s off-putting attitude and has kept sending him texts and emails even knowing they would have gone unanswered; he has kept calling even after Makishima had made a point of hanging up to him. Toudou has waited for him to be ready to accept his feelings, first, and to welcome his touch, later. Toudou has welcomed a long-distance relationship, for the sake of Makishima following his dreams overseas. Toudou waits for him in summer, and waits for the time in winter in which he’ll have saved enough to jump on a plan himself and reach his lover. Toudou waits for his vocal messages at night, and for the presents Makishima sends, who never really seem to arrive on time to mark the special occasions they were bought for. Toudou is patient with him when he snaps and acts cranky, and he never acts offended when he cuts the video calls short because of their conflicting schedule.

Toudou deserves so much more than someone like him, of this Makishima is convinced. But Toudou doesn’t want to hear any of it, usually, and he always declares he’s not going anywhere, so the only thing that Makishima has left is to do his absolute best to show Toudou how much he’s thankful.

Admittedly, it doesn’t come as natural to him as he wished it did. It’s far too simple to snarl at Toudou’s perpetual chatter, or to put a bony hand over his face when he gets too touchy – but lately, Makishima muses, it almost seems like it takes him a little less effort than before. He’s always genuinely happy when he spots Toudou through the crowd of people at the terminal, have been since forever (how can you not, with such a handsome face smiling at you?), and Makishima has always had the impulse, when looking at him, to just make Toudou happy too. So far, he has associated it with the necessity to give back, even just a little, some of what he’s so selfishly taken from Toudou through the years. A reasonable price to pay, that of spoiling Toudou like crazy, if it was to make him feel as cherished and special as Makishima felt every time they interacted.

But lately, he’s not so sure that’s the case anymore. Because nowadays it doesn’t feel like an obligation at all. A tiny part of Makishima insists that it never was, not really, but it’s complicated to shut down beliefs you’ve been tricking yourself into thinking for years. At first, he told himself that this need to prostrate himself and give Toudou whatever he wanted was just gratitude. Then it became a mutually beneficial way to make up for months of distance. Now it’s something different entirely, and Makishima has a difficult time understanding if Toudou is still the driving force behind it, or not. Because until a few months ago, his train of thought on the matter started with Toudou, and what kind of attention he would have liked to receive. Attention that Makishima was always more than eager to provide, compatibly with his limits in terms of showing affection. It seems to him now, that those limits are shifted, that the bar is set higher, that it is he himself who sometimes, at night, before sleeping, ends up hugging the pillow and thinking how much he’d like to cuddle Toudou and pamper him.

And when he finally has the chance to share a bed with his boyfriend, it is indeed Makishima the one who initiates physical contact (of no sexual nature, in this case: that is a pleasure they give in to as soon as they have the chance, always. It’s a collateral effect of the distance they’ve both learned to accept, not that it’s that much of a sacrifice.), beckoning Toudou closer before the latter has the chance to do so himself, hugging him to his chest, tracing his hairline with his lips and nose and caressing his skin, wherever he can touch it. Toudou always hums in his embrace, a serene smile on his lips and hands fisted tightly in Makishima’s shirt, anchoring him in place (as if Makishima would dare let him go). It never starts in the bedroom, it’s something that Makishima casually (and lately, unaware) keeps up the whole day: a warm palm on Toudou’s back when they cross a threshold or take a train and Makishima makes room for Toudou to go ahead; an arm casually wrapped around Toudou’s waist as they look at something together, or take a leisure walk in a popular tourist spot; a chaste kiss when they wander in less crowded but still suggestive places; suggesting they take a picture or two together; bringing Toudou into one of his own favourite shops because he’s found a line of scarfs  that he is convinced Toudou would adore - and he’s been dying to gift him one from the moment he saw them, but wanted Toudou to pick his favourite;  making a detour into a little known teahouse he has hunted down just for the chance of seeing Toudou’s face as he scrolls the selections of blends; feeding Toudou food from his own fork in the privacy of his kitchen; complimenting his outfit, or his headband, genuinely, without ulterior motives if not speaking the truth and watching Toudou’s face light up; holding him when they have the opportunity to stay close.

But as much as he basks in the affection during the day, it’s at night that Toudou feels free enough to purr his enthusiastic appreciation loudly. He might be flamboyant and outspoken with his feelings, Makishima has learned, but Toudou is modest and reserved at his core, and while he always wears his heart on his sleeve, Toudou is far less theatrical and far more sentimental when they are alone. Up until very recently, Makishima hadn’t come to terms with the fact that he’s a very sentimental person himself, and that he looks forward to their private rendezvous just as much as his boyfriend. Who clearly enjoys being treated like a spoiled cat sometimes.

Makishima doesn’t like to think about himself as an assertive person: he’s stubborn and determined, but he’s not a leader in the strict term of the word. But he likes to take charge in their relationship every now and then, silently and rather gently, because he knows it sends a thrill down Toudou’s spine and it gives Makishima goosebumps to elicit such reactions in his lover. Toudou is warm, always. It’s actually a bother during summer, but it’s wonderful in winter, when hugging him feels like wrapping your arms around a compact radiator. Makishima is pretty much convinced that holding Toudou until the warmth makes him drowsy and ready to doze off is one of his favourite feelings in the whole world. Toudou is also undeniably, unconceivably, unmanageably beautiful – and sometimes he makes Makishima lose contact with reality. Usually when he sleeps, and his looks aren’t watered down by the loudest aspects of his personality. Or when he’s pliant in Makishima’s arms, determined to milk out of him all the attentions Makishima is willing to give for the night. Surprisingly, it’s a lot, so much that as of lately it has almost become a game of endurance in between them, always competitive. Last time, Makishima won by managing to lull Toudou into sleep while making out; tonight, his boyfriend seems determined to take the point back playing the horny-card wisely. It’s already hard to resist Toudou when he’s seductive and dominant (in a respectful kind of way, another thing Makishima will never thank Toudou enough is his willingness to always give him the upper hand and control), but it’s an heresy to even think about not giving in when Toudou is pliant and submissive and so very intentioned to play the part of a prize to be won. Because he is a prize to be won, and a thing of beauty that mewls in your arms until you’re mad with the desire to possess him. Makishima bites on his neck and lets Toudou call the shots as things heat up at his pace, until he’s panting underneath Makishima and struggling with the discomfort caused by their clothes.

- I need you. Right now.

It’s not something they do often, and Makishima feels a little anxious every time they try, because he knows what it’s like to be the one on the receiving end, and while he absolutely adores it, he’s also had first-hand experience with everything that might go wrong in such a situation, and he doesn’t want Toudou anywhere near such possibility. Still, he can’t help but trust Toudou when he looks up, open and unguarded and as naked as he can be, and reassures him that everything is alright and that he wants it, however it goes. The thing is that Makishima wants it too, and it might be his insecurities speaking again (pushing him into making Toudou and his otherworldly beauty his, at least for a few moments), but maybe is just the need to indulge his lover and please him, while gratifying himself at the same time.

There isn’t, he realizes at they come, not a single part of Toudou that he doesn’t deem perfect, inside out, and it’s scary, how serious he is in his belief that to his eyes, Toudou is a flawed person, but a perfect one nevertheless. At least for him.

*

He has read somewhere that the very top of the head is the point in which you are able to smell the true scent of a person, the one that belongs to them alone and that is different for each individual. Makishima doesn’t know if it’s true, but he has still made a habit of breathing in Toudou’s scent when they cuddle, especially after sex. He doesn’t know if that smell is unique, but to his nostrils it screams Toudou, and he’s sure he’d be able to recognize it anywhere. It clings to his pillows, days after Toudou goes back to Japan, and Makishima wishes he didn’t have to change the sheets and wash the pillowcases, sometimes.

He inhales again, deeply, and mumbles nonsense into Toudou’s black locks as he exhales, wondering if it will ever come a time when he’ll have enough of this: this life, this man in his arms and his addictive self, this feeling of euphoric joy that doesn’t stem from an amazing orgasm but by having given one to his lover, with no ulterior motive than to see him happy and satisfied and nestled safely into their den of quilts.

- Are you sniffing my hair again?

Makishima doesn’t answer, he’s been caught red-handed, but he does shift a little to be able to see his lover’s face. Toudou squints his eyes at him, but in a soft, condescending way.

- They’re dirty.

Makishima shakes his head as he burrows his nose into Toudou’s thick hair, letting him caress his chest and play with the golden necklace he never takes off.

- Am I too much to handle?

The question comes out of the blue and he looks at Toudou in disbelief. But it’s far too peaceful and quiet inside the bedroom to raise his voice the way he’d like to.

- What do you mean?

Toudou shrugs and looks at Makishima’s skin, twirling a green lock around his index finger.

- It’s just… you’re so patient with me, always listening to my nagging and giving in to my requests or preferences. You follow me everywhere I drag you, whether you’re on board with the idea or not. You agree on watching my movies, you take me to places you wouldn’t normally seek out, just because you know I’d like them. You tone down your showiness when we’re together, in order to not make me uncomfortable. You’re not an affectionate person by nature, but push yourself beyond your limits, just to make sure I feel loved. It’s… it’s a lot, that you do for me. I was just… asking myself if it’s not too much. If you won’t grow tired of it, in the long run.

Makishima takes Toudou’s face into his hands.

- What if it makes me happy too, to make sure you feel cherished?

Toudou sniffs.

- The way it makes me happy to hear about all the things you’re accomplishing here?

Makishima nods, a little emotional himself.

- This is not an act, Jinpachi. You know I don’t lie.

Toudou chuckles onto his skin.

- No, you don’t. You’re not able to. …so you’ve always been a closet sap all along and never told me anything?

Makishima frowns.

- No. You have infected me. You’re contagious. Your patience is contagious.

Toudou smiles, smug.

- My love is contagious.

Makishima dives in for a kiss to put a stop to the conversation, and as they slide against each other looking for a new rhythm to follow, he asks himself if there really is any difference.

[whytehartleanne]

In memory of Sergeant Michael Willetts, GC.

A True British Hero:

Michael Willetts of 3 PARA (13 August, 1943 - 25 May, 1971) was one of the first British soldiers to be killed during 'The Troubles' in Northern Ireland, and the recipient of a posthumous George Cross for his heroism in saving lives during the Provisional Irish Republican Army bombing which claimed his own. He is buried at St Mary's Church, Blidworth, Nottinghamshire.

Operation Banner:

Operation Banner was the operational name for the British Armed Forces' operation in Northern Ireland from August 1969 to July 2007, as part of 'The Troubles.' It was the longest, continuous deployment in British Military history. The British Army was initially deployed, at the request of the unionist government of Northern Ireland, in response to the August 1969 riots. Its role was to support the Royal Ulster Constabulary (RUC) and to assert the authority of the British government in Northern Ireland.

The main opposition to the British military's deployment came from the Provisional Irish Republican Army (IRA). It waged a guerrilla campaign against the British military from 1970 to 1997. An internal British Army document released in 2007 stated that, whilst the Army had failed to defeat the IRA, it had made it impossible for the IRA to win through violence, and had also reduced substantially the death toll in the last years of the conflict.

Bio/Death:

Born in 1943 in the Nottinghamshire town of Sutton-in-Ashfield, Michael Willetts entered a local colliery after leaving school, but found that he did not suit the job, and so joined the 3rd Battalion of the Parachute Regiment in the British Army, in March 1962, at the age of 20. He married his wife Sandra in October 1965 and the couple had two children, Dean and Trudy - aged 3 and 5 when their father was murdered.

He was a talented radio operator - particularly good at Morse Code. After serving in Malta, and along with the rest of his regiment, Sergeant Willetts was dispatched to Northern Ireland in 1971 at the outbreak of violence there between Irish nationalists and the unionist Royal Ulster Constabulary.

On 25th May he called his wife at lunchtime and they talked about their little girl who had started school that day.

Just before 8.30pm an IRA man entered the reception hall of Springfield Road RUC Police Station. He was carrying a suitcase out of which a smoking fuse could be seen. Immediately after dumping it on the floor he ran out to a waiting car.

In the reception area of the station were Patrick Gray and his daughter Colette, 4, and Elizabeth Cummings and her son Carl, also 4, along with a number of RUC officers, one of whom spotted the smoking fuse and raised the alarm.

Sergeant Willetts was on duty in the inner hall when he heard the commotion and sent a fellow soldier up to the first floor to warn those working there, while he himself headed to reception. He found the Police Officers ushering the members of public to safety.

Patrick Gray describes what Sergeant Willetts did:

"We all rushed as fast as we could through the enquiry office towards the door at the end of the room. I remember this young Sergeant standing in the door and holding it open for us all. He was very calm and stood there until we had all moved through."

Sergeant Willetts effectively shielded the civilians and Police Officers with his own body until they were safely past him and outside - he then stood in the doorway, shielding those taking cover when the bomb exploded.

It was a full week and after the funeral before his wife could bring herself to sit down and be told the whole story. In the 2012 book "The Paras" she is recorded as saying:

"I wasn't surprised at all because there was no way he would have gone out that door leaving anyone in there. He loved people. His friends and colleagues all spoke highly of him. The presence of the children and their Mother made him do what he had to do, which was get them out of there as soon as possible. My own grief eventually moulded with a sense of pride, but also anger that the bombings continued. He was a good example of a good British soldier. The regiment was very proud of his courage."

One of those serving in the station, Constable Phoenix, made his way back to where the bomb went off after the explosion. Constable Phoenix became a prominent anti-terrorism Detective Superintendent and was killed in the Chinook helicopter crash on the Mull of Kintyre in 1994.

Lost Lives quotes from Constable Phoenix, Policing the Shadows:

"Constable Phoenix made his way to the entrance area where he saw Sergeant Willetts lying with the back of his head gaping open. A metal chunk from a locker hurled across the room by the force of the explosion had struck him. Local people had gathered outside and began to help clear the debris, offering what assistance they could.

Ambulances began ferrying the injured to the nearby Royal Victoria Hospital. Lieutenant Colonel Chiswell was with Sergeant Willetts, who was taken out on a door to the ambulance. A crowd of youths were waiting to greet them. They started to jeer and scream obscenities at the badly wounded soldiers. Lieutenant Colonel Chiswell recalled, "My reaction was one of total disbelief that anyone could be so inhumane."

"Dying to protect little children was just the sort of thing I would have expected him to do," Sergeant Willetts' brother-in-law quoted in a contemporary report which also details the actions of a Republican crowd on the day of the murder.

Sergeant Willetts, who was due to leave Northern Ireland in a few days, died after two hours on the operating table.

Memorial Badge:

George Cross:

In June 1971, Sergeant Michael Willetts' 3-year-old son collected the George Cross posthumously awarded to his father. A news report from the time records that his mother Sandra Willetts said:

"I have no bitterness towards the Irish. But it hurts to hear them complain about the troops. The Army is just trying to stop innocent people being murdered."

George Cross Medal Citation:

"The Queen has been graciously pleased to approve the posthumous award of the George Cross to: 2391067 Sergeant Michael WILLETS, The Parachute Regiment.

At 8.24pm on the evening of 25th May 1971, a terrorist entered the reception hall of the Springfield Road Police Station in Belfast. He carried a suitcase from which a smoking fuse protruded, dumped it quickly on the floor and fled outside. Inside the room were a man and a woman, two children and several police officers. One of the latter saw at once the smoking case and raised the alarm. The Police Officers began to organise the evacuation of the hall past the reception desk, through the reception office and out by a door into the rear passage.

Sergeant Michael Willetts was on duty in the inner hall. Hearing the alarm, he sent an N.C.O up to the first floor to warn those above and hastened himself to the door towards which a Police Officer was thrusting those in the reception hall and office. He held the door open while all passed safely through and then stood in then stood in the doorway, shielding those taking cover. In the next moment, the bomb exploded with terrible force.

Sergeant Willetts was mortally wounded. His duty did not require him to enter the threatened area, his post was elsewhere. He knew well, after 4 months service in Belfast, the peril of going towards a terrorist bomb but he did not hesitate to do so. All those approaching the door from the far side agree that if they had had to check to open the door they would have perished. Even when they had reached the rear passage, Sergeant Willetts waited, placing his body as a screen to shelter them. By this considered act of bravery, he risked - and lost - his life for those of the adults and children. His selflessness, his courage are beyond praise.

22nd June 1971." - London Gazette, 21 June 1971.

Other Honours:

Michael Willetts was also posthumously awarded Man of the Year in 1971 by RADAR, the Royal Association for Disability and Rehabilitation.

"Soldier" written, recorded and performed by Harvey Andrews:

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In 1972, folk musician Harvey Andrews wrote and recorded "Soldier."

The song was never intended to be an account of what happened to Sergeant Willetts - it was inspired by the actual story.

Whatever may be said about the artist's poetic licence, there's no doubting the power of the song's lyrics, and although Harvey Andrews was an established and well respected artist the song was banned from the airwaves by the BBC for fear that it would upset Nationalists in Northern Ireland.

Harvey Andrews recalls:

"When I wrote it, based on the Sergeant Willetts incident, the protest song movement was well established. I had no idea the song would become so big.

It was banned from broadcasting in Britain and I was not allowed to sing it on "Folk on Two" on BBC radio. Soldiers were not allowed to play it. One has emailed that he was charged and locked up for a few days. It was sold in the streets of Belfast and was basically number one over there but was never printed as such, I think. It has been bootlegged as well as re-recorded by Protestant bands in Scotland and sold illegally in pubs."

He insists that the song was intended to transcend sectarianism - something which seems reasonable when one actually thinks about the lyrics.

Not only that, but they are words which reflect the general attitude of soldiers from Great Britain quite well. They provided a title for not one but two of Ken Wharton's excellent books about Operation Banner.

🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶

"But will the children growing up learn at their mothers' knees

The story of the soldier who bought their liberty

Who used his youthful body as a means towards an end

Who gave his life to those who called him murderer, not friend?"

🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶