#and ive only been here for two hours. someone kill me

[gali-vue-la]

do y'all ever think about what happened after the third movie.

i dont, often, because i dont like the third movie. ive only watched it once, so i could be wrong about some things, but i was just thinking today about how things would've gone on in the days and weeks and years after.

mostly, about hiccup, because all i ever think about these days are hiccup and toothless. i was thinking about how, for a large part of his life, everything about hiccup has revolved around toothless and dragons. how it was, really, the first thing he'd ever done that got more than a glance from someone else. more than a "get back inside before you mess everything up more" from his father, from anyone.

we see two of hiccup's inventions in the first movie: first, the mangler, which was built, designed, and operated with the intent to help his village, to hunt dragons, to be like everyone else. it is dismissed outright, he is dismissed outright, and later, it is crushed under the foot of a monstrous nightmare that intends to kill him. we don't ever see it again, it is never thought of or acknowledged again, and i can just picture the wood rotting apart, the metal sinking into the earth until no trace remains.

then we see toothless's tailfin. everything it represents is contrary to what the mangler was; it does not help the village, it does not hunt dragons, it makes hiccup even more of an outlier than he already was. it is the only of hiccup's inventions thus far to have been taken seriously, the only thing anyone else has ever put value in. we see gobber, at the end of the first movie, with a tailfin he constructed for hiccup, for toothless, from hiccup's destroyed design and what must have been his notes, because it is the only invention that they have ever cared about, the only one they have bothered to take a closer look at. it comes, in turn, with the arrival and acceptance of dragons.

following that, we see so many, countless, of hiccup's creations. i wont even delve into the shows, because i could be here for hours.

in the second movie, we see his glide suit, his sword, his leg. even little things, like where he stores his map, his little compass, and the tailfin, which carries over from the first movie, with improvements—every single one of these once again revolves around toothless and dragons. every one is important when it comes to saving berk and the dragons from drago's clutches.

his glide suit, we later see, is furthered in the third movie, and by then, each of the "main gang" has their own flight suit. it's vital in defeating drago and outsmarting/outmaneuvering him. it is something hiccup so clearly adores, something he needs toothless to use and something that furthers the connection between them. he uses it to fly alongside him, he uses it to soar the skies, he uses it like a pair of prosthetic wings.

his leg, too, is so entangled in what has become him-and-toothless, that it is specifically designed to be different to the walking attachment when he's flying with toothless. there was no need to make it different, and yet, flying and dragons and toothless are so important to him that they have their own spot, their own design, their own piece of themselves in something hiccup cannot live without. it's like a key in the lock that is toothless's tailfin; they cannot fly without this specific, unique design of hiccup's prosthetic leg. this specific, unique design of hiccup's prosthetic leg that serves no purpose other than flying with toothless.

this brings me to my original thought: his sword. Inferno.

It is a blade, yes, but like everything else hiccup has made since the first movie: it is so entangled in everything that makes dragons dragons that it is almost inseparable. Zippleback gas and Nightmare gel are what make it Inferno and not a mere skeleton of a sword. except it's not infinite, and it's not forever, and with no dragons around after the third movie, he will run out of gel, and he will run out of gas, and inferno will become a skeleton of itself. something that no longer works like it should, like hiccup designed and built it to.

what do you think happens, when that day comes?

hiccup is so entangled in everything that makes dragons dragons that they are almost inseparable. what do you think became of him, in those days and weeks and months and years after? do you think he broke down every time he had to give up one of his creations? do you think he became numb, despondent, as he watched so much of his hard work become unusable? useless, once more, like he had been? do you think he fell back into the boy he once was, before dragons? do you think he felt worthless? Hiccup, the dragon master, without dragons? do you think he struggled?

I do. I think it was horrific, and excruciating, and enough to break a lesser man.

i think he used that blade until the day he ran out of gas and gel. i think he couldn't bear to use it after, strong as it still may be, because it didn't work right. it didn't work like he intended it to. i think he hides it away, because he can't bear to look at it, but he keeps it close, under his bed, maybe, or in a chest that's always closed, because he can't bear to be apart from it, either.

I think he used his scale armour until it broke apart, reached for shedded scales to grind to paste and fix it and instead scraped fingernails against the bottom of an empty bucket.

i think he ran his fingers over his glide suit, over every one of toothless's prosthetic tailfins over and over and over again until he realized they were wearing beneath his touch and the oil from his hands, and then i think he hid them away, so he'd never be tempted to touch them again. so he could never lose them, so he could never ruin them. so they'd last forever, even though they'd never be used again. i think he can picture them, perfectly, in his mind, every single detail and every single second he spent making them, but he's terrified that if he touches them, if he ruins them, he'll forget, and he'll have nothing left.

i think he did the same with his notebooks and designs, filled to the brim with sketches of not only his inventions, but of dragons, of toothless, of his tailfin, of every gear and mechanism he used, because he's terrified of losing them. he's terrified of forgetting how he made it, of just how long each metal boning had been, of how he fastened the leather, the angle of the curve it needed to be to fit perfectly against toothless's tail without chafing or being too loose. i think that it stays in him, in his hands and in his bones and in his mind, instinctively, that even five or ten or one-hundred years later he could still make that tailfin with his eyes closed and his hands behind his back and i think that it would be perfect, but i also think that he is more terrified than anything that he will forget how to. i think his breath stutters when he works with pulleys, and i think he has trouble wrapping leather around metal for the rest of his life.

i think that one day, with the wear, and the tear, and the strain of use, that his leg breaks. i think it shatters apart as he gets out of bed one morning, because his hands shake when he tries to check on it, when he tries to maintain it, and he hasn't been able to do more than oil it in quite a while. i think it breaks apart like glass, with metal strained and torn and weak, and i think that he falls apart when it does. i think he doesn't move, for a long, long time, fallen to the floor without anyone to catch him like there used to be, and he holds the pieces in his hands like they're more precious than gold, than anything else, because to him, they are. i think he tries to piece it back together, but the important parts are shattered, and it keeps falling apart and he doesn't have enough hands or fingers to keep it from doing so. i think that he stays there until someone finds him, and i think it takes hours even then, while someone holds his hands in their own to stop them from shaking, until they get gobber, and I think gobber makes his new leg for him, because hiccup can't.

i think gobber makes his new leg with a flight attachment, i think he makes it exactly the same as the previous one, because he can't imagine anything different. i think he does it because he's scared of what it'll do to hiccup if he doesn't.

i think that at the end of the third movie, so much has been taken from the village, from the people of berk, and from the dragons, but i think it takes and takes and takes even more from hiccup. how many things, do you think, he has made, that he holds and sees and touches after, that are rendered useless? how many things was he working on? how many designs are in his notebooks that will never become real? that he will never get to test and try and experiment with? how many ideas do you think he had, waiting for the right moment, that he now can't even bring himself to write down?

how many ideas does he have, after? how many times do you think he starts reaching for his notebook, for a piece of metal in the forge, for a hammer, before he realizes, what for? What's the point?

how many times do you think he realizes that so many of his ideas are useless once more?

pt 2 cuz im a loser

[pshcomforts]

➳ let you break my heart again | psh.

collegestudent!sunghoon x fem!reader (mentions of wonyoung from ive)

“one day i will stop falling in love with you”

synopsis: you’ve been in love with your friend, sunghoon for a long time but he has eyes on someone else.

warnings/content: college au. unrequited love. pure and heavy angst. cursing. no happy ending. written in third pov. sunghoon’s oblivious. reader is introverted. a little bit of jay x reader.

comments, likes, and reposts are appreciated :)

word count: 3.3k

a/n: part two — ₊˚ʚ falling in love ɞ˚₊

fictional characters — dae (jungwon’s boyfriend), min-su (heeseung’s girlfriend), and ji-woo (jake’s girlfriend). shameless part two is in the works i swear!

༘˚⋆𐙚｡masterlist⋆.✧˚

current song playing: let you break my heart again by laufey

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺

1:04 ─────|────────────── -3:25

it was a gloomy and early evening, and all y/n could hear were the sounds of bird chirps and wind whispers.

she gave a soft sigh as she arrived onto the school campus. “just a few hours today, it’s gonna rain too..,” she murmured with a saddened expression.

the girl soon felt a harsh arm tug around her neck, pulling her close within the person’s chest.

in an instant, the smell of cologne and fresh laundry attacked her senses and she knew who it was.

“you just got here??” her close friend, sunghoon beamed towards her.

y/n’s heart instantly thumped at the processed words. “yeah.. did you?” she took a gulp, eyes trailing up towards the body figure.

she heard him give a low chuckle that caused her insides to churn and twist all in one. “i’ve been here for a while, dummy. we’ve all been waiting for you.” hoon spoke, arms unintentionally linking her closer in his presence.

the girl awkwardly laughed along before swallowing her feelings away. “oh.. well, i’m here now.”

“finally! i’ve been waiting since 8am!”

“you have?” her head peered up and she only hoped that sunghoon didn’t notice the blushing red around her cheeks and ears.

he didn’t. the stupid boy was oblivious.

so he only cackled a laugh before furiously nodding his head — “yeah! i need to give you an update on how it’s going so far with wonyoung.”

oh.

y/n’s heart instantly sank to the pit of her stomach, killing all of the possible butterflies that had been formed there. “o..oh…,” she mumbled with a lip bite. “yeah, how’s it going so far?”

she attempted a smile but could only go so far with just her lips forcibly pressing into a thin line.

sunghoon didn’t notice the way his friend who’s crushed on him for months subtly withdrew away from him as he yapped on and on about his progress.

“so me and her..,” “and then we..,” “but she also told me..,” “and i really want her to know that..,” the oblivious boy mumbled on, and all she could do was let him run his mouth with how much excitement surged through him.

y/n laughed here and there, playing the simple mannered jokes to quiet down her aching pain that wished to become present.

but even with her efforts, her tears that caused a shine to display in her eyes were worsening her act. and when she quietly sniffed away her snot, sunghoon immediately noticed and stopped in his tracks.

“hey,” he nudged. “you okay?”

“yeah.. no, yeah, i’m definitely fine! it’s just getting cold so i think i’m getting a little sick.” she muffled back with her head turned away from him.

he didn’t give a response. at least, not right away. it was urgently quiet as he observed her body language, almost as if trying to figure her out.

“are you sure you’re okay?” the male softly uttered. his voice was sweet and reassuring, much like his feelings for wonyoung.

“if you need to, just go back home. your head might hurt if you stay in class.” he added in.

y/n hated this. she hated how caring he was, how unintentionally charming he was. she hated it, and she hated him (lies).

“no it’s fine, hoon.”

sunghoon’s face spoke with disbelief in her words. resting his hand on her shoulder, he firmly murmured, “i’m sure the professor will understand, i don’t want you to force yourself-“

“i said i’m fine.” the girl harshly reiterated.

after the cold shoulder, she felt his hand slip off of her shoulder — causing a burning pulse to ache in her heart. he was the one who withdrew this time, and she felt it.

“you didn’t have to be harsh, y/n.”

sunghoon’s hand was about to fully slip away but y/n caught it in time, fingers dangling onto the forearm with hope and regret.

“sorry, sunghoon, i’m just a little irritated with this cold,” she lied. nothing about her runny nose and teary eyes were about a cold. he was the reason, but he couldn’t know that.

✩ ‘i don’t even think that you care like i do’ ✩

hoon sighed. “i know you get a little mean when your head starts to hurt but don’t take it out on me,” he softly joked, playfully nudging her head afterwards.

the girl rolled her eyes before giving a light smack to his arm. “shut up, i’m just not feeling well.” another lie.

“well just don’t get me sick cause then i’ll get wonyoung sick.”

oh.

his words processed into her ears faster than she thought, and her smile dropped.

but when sunghoon looked back at her to see if she laughed at his joke, she quickly wore a grin once more.

“calm down, you guys are still talking.” y/n said with a stab to the heart.

“not after today, i hope.”

her ears perked up. she knew it wasn’t possible for her friend to like her back, especially with how much he always went on and on about a girl like wonyoung; but it didn’t hurt to have a little hope right?

✩ ‘pretend that we are more than friends’ ✩

“what’s happening today?” she asked, finding it hard to gulp down saliva with her heartbeats in her throat.

sunghoon awkwardly chuckled as he scratched the back of his nape. “i’m planning to ask her out today.”

another heart drop to the stomach.

✩ ‘i should stop’ ✩

‘of course.. i’m an idiot…,’ she thought to herself as she exhaled a heavy sigh.

“what? that’s not a good idea?” the boy asked, catching onto that exaggerated sigh.

“what? oh.. no, it’s a good idea! ask her out!” she beamed, displaying a wide smile. she felt like an idiot. her hopes went up for a second, just for it to be shot down like always.

✩ ‘heaven knows i’ve tried’ ✩

“thank you, y/n! you always help me with her, i can’t thank you enough!” sunghoon yelled, hugging and shaking her around.

y/n lightly laughed. “once is enough..,”

“what?”

“what..? nothing! hey, there’s jake and them, let’s go!” she dragged him towards their friend group and sighed in relief.

“you guys are finally here?” jake teased, displaying his full set of teeth as he laid his head on his girlfriend’s shoulders.

y/n nodded. “yeah, i just came on campus.”

“girl, it’s noon!” her friend, ji-woo yelled in disbelief.

“hey, my class is later, so i’m not late!”

“that’s true, at least she’s planning to go to class.” dae chimed in with a shrug in his shoulders.

“exactly! thank you,” the single friend defensively beamed back.

“that’s a first.” min-su uttered, causing cackled laughter to erupt out of the group.

a few topics of discussions immersed before sunghoon intervened with his own — “so i’m planning to ask wonyoung out.”

everyone immediately shifted their gaze to y/n, who had her head slightly drooped down. they knew she liked him. everyone knew, everyone but sunghoon.

but it wasn’t like they could just tell him for her. it wasn’t their place, and she’d honestly rather keep it a secret with how eager he was to be going out with another girl.

y/n softly shook her head ‘no’ towards her three closer friends who intentionally stared at her a little longer than the members. ‘no, don’t say anything, it’s fine’ — she spoke with that head shake.

ji-woo sighed out before uttering, “you’re really gonna go out with her?”

sunghoon’s head tilted to the side in confusion as he responded with a — “yes? is it that surprising?” he turned his attention to jake to get an idea of what his girlfriend meant, only for jake to just awkwardly smile.

“well, you’re just not the type to be that bold, you know?” dae urged, saving ji-woo’s ass.

“yeah, you’re usually more like the guy who just lets stuff happens unintentionally.” min-su said in an attempt to cover their question up.

“baby, i’m sure sunghoon’s just getting more confident with her.” heeseung replied to his girlfriend, intertwining his hands with hers.

y/n’s head slightly bolted before looking at the male who just spoke. they met eyes before he mouthed a ‘sorry’ towards her.

“hee’s right. she just makes me feel confident in being more out there. she’s so sweet, and talks confidently, and..,” sunghoon chattered on.

and it was then that she realized just how different wonyoung and her were.

wonyoung was extroverted, and y/n was introverted.

she was so outgoing and natural in everything she did, and y/n truly admired her for that. she couldn’t ever hate someone who was so unbelievably sweet like wonyoung.

but the two girls were different, and y/n could see just how much sunghoon and her wouldn’t work out. they were too similar, and he needed someone opposite from him.

her. it was her who was like that. wonyoung brought the best in him, and y/n was at least glad for that.

so as hoon kept yapping on about his plan, y/n disassociated with every thought that flooded her head. she couldn’t bare to hear the same words, so the best thing that she could do was just blur out whatever he was saying.

the group took notice and eventually stopped sunghoon.

“hey y/n, doesn’t your class start soon?” dae quickly intervened with an eyebrow raise.

“hm? oh, yeah.. soon.” she blatantly said, no sense of emotion shown.

ji-woo awkwardly laughed as she added, “girl you should start walking.” her chuckle was in an attempt to make light jokes of the situation, but y/n only nodded.

“okay,” she mumbled and got up from the table seat.

“oh, i’ll walk you.” jay uttered, taking the excuse and leaving as well.

sunghoon cocked his head. “what? but i was supposed to walk her. jay??”

“don’t worry, i’ll walk her! her class will be close to mine anyway!” the dark haired boy shouted before catching up to y/n.

“hey,” jay bumped his arm against hers. “you want to talk about it..?”

she sighed as she faced him. his face showed a sickly amount of worry and it only caused her to playfully push his head away.

“does it look like i want to talk about it?” y/n murmured, softly pouting.

jay chuckled. “no, but i’m here if you need me. i know it’s not easy, y/n, and sunghoon’s a little stupid for not seeing that you like him.”

she clicked her tongue as she rolled her eyes. “please, i haven’t shown that i’ve liked him at all. he’s not stupid, he’s just in love with someone else.” when her words actually processed, she felt her heart shatter into a million pieces.

the girl stopped her tracks and lowered her head, causing jay to look back at her with pity.

“y/n..,” he whispered, brows furrowing at her state.

“it’s pathetic, isn’t it?” she chuckled through her pain, tears already flowing down her cheeks. “being in love with someone who only sees me as a friend.”

“it’s not. maybe if you just tell him-“

“what, tell him and make our whole relationship awkward? no. he’s already adamant on going out with her anyway, there’s no point.”

y/n’s head lowered even more, hiding away her puffy, red eyes that were clear in daylight. she let out soft sobs before attempting to shut down her feelings.

✩ ‘promise i don’t mean to cry’ ✩

“sorry, this is gross. i’m not crying anymore, sorry jay-“

✩ ‘but i get overwhelmed and confused’ ✩

in swift seconds, jay pulled her into his embrace and softly squeezed her. “your feelings for sunghoon aren’t stupid. you may be for not telling him any sooner, but your feelings are never invalidated.” he muffled through the hug.

the girl cracked a smile at his words before slapping his arms. “thanks.. that was a little mean but, thanks jay.”

jay beamed a sweet and reassuring smile as he stroked her hair for a second. “what are friends for?” he said.

✩ ‘some day, someone will like me like i like you’ ✩

“are you still planning to go to class?”

“should i..? after i cried..?”

he cackled a laugh, shining a smile towards her before mumbling, “it’s up to you, but i honestly wouldn’t. you can always catch up too..,”

y/n turned her head to look at him. “are you suggesting that you skip with me?”

“who said i was skipping??” the tall male grinned ear to ear as he watched her exasperate a sigh out.

“you cant tell me to skip and not have you skip with me!”

“fine.. i’ll skip with you.” jay sighed in defeat. “but we have to get the others to skip too!”

“deal! i was already texting dae!”

the two laughed before making a weird U-turn from their pathway.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

eventually, their plan to skip only turned into a library study session. and with such short timing, only a few were willing to do it — dae, min-su, ji-woo, and niki.

the rest were either still in class, at home already, or in some cases, asking their crush out.

so when it was just the six in one big table, everything was chaotically quiet.

y/n sat next to her three closest friends while jay and niki silently bickered here and there.

“i cant believe jungwon didn’t come, he’s usually always down for these study sessions.” niki snorted.

“well wonie wasn’t feeling it today so he just went home.” dae butted in, eyes staying glued to his laptop.

jay huffed out a sigh. “this is a little boring.. i thought we were gonna do something more fun when we skipped, y/n.”

“well, we have to catch up for the work we missed.”

“remind me to never skip with you again..,”

the group quietly laughed together as jay continued — “seriously, y/n, what was the point if we were going to do something like study?”

“i just didn’t want to listen to my professor talk,” she scowled.

“let’s go eat somewhere, at least!” the male frowned, eyes rolling at how much she was concentrating.

“i wouldn’t mind eating..,” niki chimed in.

“let’s go!” yelled ji-woo, getting everyone hyped up to leave.

y/n immediately jumped up from her cushioned seat with a beam — “okay! i just have to go pee first.”

“do you want us to wait for you?”

“no it’s fine, jay needs to get the car anyway so just come around the block and i’ll be here.”

a few debates on staying with the girl was made before she ultimately convinced jay to just let them go first.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

once y/n was finally done, she brought herself to the front of the library. as she stepped out, she finally heard the heavy rain drops pour from outside.

the campus was flooded with wet puddles and muddy sidewalks. she exaggerated a sigh as she covered herself with a hoodie.

“should’ve just had someone wait with me,” she mumbled under her breath.

the girl glanced back and forth, from left to right to ensure nothing was in her way, but once she did so, she completely hated the sight she came across.

a few ways down from her once-peripheral vision, y/n saw sunghoon and wonyoung wrapped around each other in a hug.

she immediately found it hard to breathe with how tight her heart began to clench onto every single ache. tears ran through her cheeks as she watched from afar.

the only thing that further confirmed his stated plans from earlier were the dim lights on campus — exhibiting how well hoon was wrapping his arms around her, how well they fit each other like puzzle pieces.

she bit her lips as she tried to swallow back another crying sob, but she just couldn’t help it.

y/n was watching her closest friend fall in love with someone else this entire time, and she’s always been able to somewhat sustain it. but now? now, he would actually be with wonyoung, instead of the girl who’s been in love with him since high school.

✩ ‘if only you knew what i felt like’ ✩

her breath hitched as every memory of her and hoon being potentially more flashed away in an instant. she’d always thought that maybe on some level, she’d get with sunghoon because of how well it went for all three of her close friends to find their special someone from being friends first.

but that little fragment of hope she had left for something possible was now crushed to a pulp.

✩ ‘some day, one day’ ✩

it wasn’t like the movies where the two friends realize their love for each other, and y/n knew that now. because if it was anything like that, hoon wouldn’t have been so excited to tell her everything that he knew about wonyoung.

he would’ve just confessed his feelings, and baam, happy ending.

but yet again, it wasn’t like the movies.

so she harshly wiped her tears away and though no one was around, she couldn’t help but be thankful for the heavy raindrops that blended her tears in with it. a half smile plastered across her face in revelation to that while sighing.

‘happy for you..,’ y/n thought to herself as she pulled out her phone.

✩ ‘i will stop falling in love with you’ ✩

beads of water from the rain plopped on her phone in a quick pace while she texted a family member — ‘can you come pick me up?’

she bit her lips before leaving to her shared group chat with her beloved friends.

y/n <33:

hey.. i just remembered that i have an exam next week so i have to study for it

go ahead and eat without me tho!! my brother’s already on his way so don’t worry abt any of that! :)

jungwon’s bae 🩶:

You have an exam??

Why didn’t you tell us!

Just come out anyway 🥰

hee’s fav 🤍:

yeah one day won’t hurt!

jake’s girl 🫂:

jay’s taking forever but yeah, just come y/n!

y/n’s eyes glistened when she felt another wave of emotions hit her. they didn’t even know she was going through such a thing, and it hurt that she couldn’t tell them yet.

y/n <33:

no it’s okayy, another time!

a buzz to her phone was made before she found her brother pulling up. she ran to the car with a shaky breath, and soon, they drove away from the heartbreaking sight.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

when the girl got home, she immediately ran to her room and sobbed her eyes out. she broke down in a crying mess after holding it in in front of her brother.

tears streamed down her cheeks and snot filled her nose with every hiccup in her throat.

“i’m an idiot,” y/n grumbled in a scratchy whisper.

just then, her phone rang like crazy and she peeked over. her three friends were calling, most likely to call and talk like they do every night, but she couldn’t do it. not right now.

so she declined it, and a few other buzzed calls from them.

y/n ignored the flooding texts of concerns and playful frustrations before coming across a few from sunghoon.

hoonie 🤍:

You busy??

I have to tell you how it went, y/n

Text me back as soon as possible! I have such good news 🙂

her heart sank. of course he had good news, she was there to witness it. but she was a good friend after all.

✩ ‘until i do, i’ll be thinking of you’ ✩

y/n <33:

oh really?? what happened?

✩ ‘then of course i’ll let you break my heart again’ ✩

★・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・★

[scribbledghost]

The Visitor - Part IX

Pairing: Vessel x Fem!Reader (Vessel the character, not the real man behind the mask)

Rating: T

Word count: 1,790

Summary: Things escalate, and the moment of truth is at hand.

Notes: 3rd person POV, use of she/her pronouns for reader. Part eight can be found here. || Part ten can be found here.

The following days find Vessel and his charge separated far more often than he’d like.

Sleep has begun to pull him from her more and more, giving him order after order that he is to attend to. Considering he is already on thin ice for his previous indiscretion, Vessel is helpless to resist.

Meanwhile, his visitor seems to be subjected to far more frequent visions, even by Sleep’s usual standards. Barely an hour can go by before she is plagued with another, and Vessel knows Sleep is escalating in order to prepare for its offering.

It seems time is running out, and IV has yet to make his decision. Or rather, he has yet to inform Vessel of his decision. Either way, there is a variable that Vessel feels increasingly anxious of.

What will he do if he finds himself and the woman in front of Sleep without full knowledge of where the other vessels stand? Even one vessel standing with Sleep would utterly ruin what semblance of a plan he has; and failure would mean indescribable pain and torture for millennia. Not just for him, but for II and III as well.

If the physical pain did not break him in that situation, the sheer guilt would.

However, in Sleep’s quest to break him by harming his beloved, it seems to have made a mistake:

It seems to have angered her.

Vessel notices it one day after yet another vision, when the black smoke clears and she screams again; except this time, it is not a scream of pain.

It is one of fury.

“I don’t know what the fuck it wants!” she yells, forehead to the ground as she pounds her fists against it. “I fight and I fight and I fight and I relive the same shit over and over again and nothing fucking changes!”

Her outburst startles Vessel – typically, visitors to the domain tread down one of two paths: either they fight and overcome their pain, and are subsequently sent home, or they continue to be broken down until Sleep offers to convert them to a vessel.

This… is different. She is fighting, and Vessel has no doubt that in any other scenario, she would have been deemed successful and allowed to leave. But since Sleep brought her here as an offering to him, a misguided attempt to gain another vessel by sacrificing someone for Vessel to love, she has not been set free. If anything, her treatment has been harsher than any other, purely because of Vessel’s disobedience (and, in Sleep’s mind, his ungratefulness).

She pounds her fists against the ground, screaming and yelling more until her voice is almost hoarse. Vessel keeps his distance, sensing that she needs this. She needs to feel her anger. It will serve her well in the coming days.

Then, she turns to look at him, eyes bloodshot and full of rage.

“You keep saying that if I overcome this, then I can leave,” she seethes.

“This is how it has always worked before,” Vessel offers, treading a fine line between angering his visitor and angering his god. “People will arrive, be forced to confront their darkness, and when they are successful, Sleep will send them home.”

A few heavy breaths later, and she responds again.

“If Sleep doesn’t send me home soon, I’ll kill the motherfucker myself.”

Once her emotions are vented and the adrenaline fades, Vessel helps her pick herself up off the ground for a walk. It is a silent affair, punctuated only by a soft “thank you” when she stands with his aid. As they walk, her arm is linked with his, and she appears to be deep in thought.

Vessel is as well.

He would be lying if he said her words did not hurt him, in a way. He knows her anger is directed at Sleep, not at him, but the idea that she is so eager to leave conflicts him.

He, too, is eager for her to return home, purely because she would be safe there. Free of Sleep’s volatile moods and threats. And he knows she has much to live for there.

But… he knows he will spend the rest of whatever life he has left missing her presence. Missing the feeling of her hand in his, missing the weight of her in his arms as she rests.

He loves her. But he, of all people, knows that to truly love her, he would need to let her go.

The idea kills him.

“I’m sorry about earlier,” her soft voice finds him through the fog of his thoughts. “I promise, I’m not mad at you.”

“I did not think you were, my heart,” he says gently. “I understand your anger. And I am sorry I cannot aid you more.”

“No,” she says with a shake of her head, “it’s not your fault. I know you’re doing what you can.”

She has no idea.

“And… I feel conflicted. About what I said.”

“How so?”

“I want to go home,” she says simply, stopping both of them and turning to face him. “But I… god, Vessel, I’d miss you so much.”

His heart aches for her.

“I would miss you as well, my dear,” he says gently, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “I cannot even begin to describe to you how much.”

The ground shakes beneath him, another angry quake. Another warning.

He’s coming dangerously close to telling her to reject Sleep’s offer, and the eldritch being knows it.

Choose your words very carefully, Sleep imparts on him.

He knows that if he continues to speak, he will be unable to help himself. He will break, and his final act as the being he is now would be to tell her to never trust what Sleep tells her.

If he does this, he will not be able to be with her when Sleep inevitably offers to convert her. She will be wholly at its mercy, and Vessel simply cannot have that.

So, he remains silent.

Instead, he brings her close, and kisses her deeply.

“My love,” he breaths against her lips, “oh, my love. I cannot adequately describe to you how much you mean to me.”

This seems to be the final straw, and the ground quakes beneath them once more as an unholy roar permeates the air. Vessel pulls her close to him, intent on protecting her from whatever may come.

Suddenly, the universe shifts as he holds her, and the two are in a different plane.

Vessel’s heart drops to his stomach as he looks around, immediately noticing the towering reaper before them. Instead of the two of them being housed atop a pedestal, this time they are standing upon a cliff edge. II, III, and IV are behind them, though none of them make any move to speak or interfere with what is about to happen as they stand still, arms behind their backs.

“Hello, my dear,” Sleep says to the woman, a saccharine tone lacing its words.

“Vessel…?” she responds, turning to him for answers. Her eyes flick between him and the others, but none get the chance to respond.

“Ah, how rude of me,” Sleep says, drawing her attention back to it. “I apologize, I should have introduced myself.”

It shrinks then, down to Vessel’s height, and stands before them.

“I am the one called Sleep. Please, do not be frightened. I will not harm you.”

The lie to end all lies.

“Sleep…” the woman repeats. Suddenly, Vessel can feel her anger returning. “You’re the one who’s been giving me visions.”

“Yes,” Sleep says. “And you have fought them so well. You have endured great suffering. And I know how frustrated you are to still be enduring.”

“What do you want from me?”

“I have come to make you an offer.”

“What kind of offer?” the woman asks. Vessel attempts to probe her mind, to see what she is thinking, but a firm wall keeps him out.

It seems that Sleep does not want him to interfere at present.

“I will ease your pain,” Sleep says, still maintaining its gentle tone and welcoming posture. “The visions will stop. You will suffer no more.”

Vessel’s heart begins to race in fear.

“All you must do in return… is worship me.”

“Worship you? You mean like Vessel and the others do?”

“Precisely. That is all I ask; one simple thing in exchange for complete peace. No more pain, no more fear. And you may remain here with… Vessel… for as long as you like. The two of you may truly be together, in every sense of the word.”

The woman turns her gaze away from Sleep, looking over at Vessel for some sort of guidance.

“Vessel can confirm my words,” Sleep says, then turns to him as well, “can’t you? Perhaps a familiar voice reassuring her that this is a favorable deal will help her make up her mind.”

He is sure he must be hyperventilating now.

This is it; the moment that Sleep has been waiting for. He is to tell his love to accept the offer, that all will be well if she simply converts and worships Sleep as he does. Now that he is finally presented with the scenario he’s spent so long avoiding, he suddenly finds himself doubting his previous decision.

It would be so simple – tell her what to say, and he will be able to love her for the rest of his days. He would be safe for the time being, as would II and III. But that would mean condemning her to the same kind of existence he has.

Out of all the sins he has committed, both in his previous life and his current one, he is sure that one would be the worst.

Suddenly, out of the periphery of his vision, he notices the others walking up to them. They do not speak, but Vessel’s eyes are drawn to IV’s wrist as he moves.

Tied there is a white ribbon.

Shaken out of his indecisiveness, Vessel looks into Sleep’s hood. The writhing tentacles begin to exude a growing anger at his silence, and Sleep begins to grow in size.

“Tell her, Vessel,” Sleep commands.

The woman – his beloved visitor, the person he is about to risk his very existence for – continues to look at him, and he sees a realization in her eyes.

II, III, and IV arrive next to them, and Vessel leans in to gently kiss the woman’s forehead.

One final act of peace before the war.

When his lips leave her skin, he pushes her behind him and stands before his deity. He gathers every ounce of courage he still possesses, and speaks a single word.

“No.”

[forgottenamira]

OOC | Amira's Second Pregnancy

ok so, already announced this on disco, but ive got more details for you, now!! @forgottenedmund you're finally on the brink of getting some full siblings, now that you're full grown sldkajfksdjfjk and yes!! i ~do mean siblings, PLURAL, bc mama is carrying...*drum roll* TRIPLETS!!

ive been spinning a pregnancy generator for her each month, since we/she found out @forgottenmarian 's fam was coming back to court bc i think, to keep her influence w roderick strong etc in the face of that, that's what made her decide to try again. every month she didn't conceive, till now, and yeah! babies galore!

ok so i used [ this pregnancy generator ] to get the details on all this and, real talk, i combined a couple results bc one gave her SEVEN kids at once laskdjfjdsfkaj and i just...no. another killed her off. so also...no (not that im not open to her dying asp, you know me i will ~always consider a character death, but amira's still got a lot more to do before that) lsajkdfjdsf so here we are!!

ok so generator said that the pregnancy went unnoticed right up until labor started and imma be straight w you this woman is actively tryna conceive...no way she just doesn't notice alkdsjfjkdsf so!! imma just interpret that two different ways. 1) her baby bump was remarkably small for a multiple-pregnancy situation or smth along those lines alksdjfkjdsf and 2) that she didn't notice till a bit later since this is ~the middle ages~ and ways of telling such things early on are extremely limited, so i will go ahead and say that she conceived right around jun 1 (since i did spin for may and she didn't conceive) and didn't realize until right around the end of the month

during the pregnancy, the following symptoms are particularly noticable: depression, headaches, mood swings, nausea, decreased energy, exhaustion, and an increased sense of smell are all common symptoms (i just gave her all of them)

early labor will last for 22 days (slow labor)

active labor will last 9 hours

Triplets (3) will be born prematurely at 32 weeks, shortly after yuletide [on january 11]; one boy and two identical girls will result:

Birth Order | Sex | Weight | General Health | Notable Conditions | Resemblances

| Female | 3.9 lb | Sickly but improving | Blind | Resembles Mother

| Female | 2.2 lb | Critical condition | xx DECEASED xx | Resembles Mother

| Male | 4.4 lb | Healthy and strong | --- | Resembles Father's Brother (Euric or Alaric, i wonder? lkdsjfajsdf)

one baby does not survive (it is weak and deteriorates after illness).

both girls arrive weak or sickly but initially prove well enough, growing everyday stronger. both however ultimately contract an illness and, while one survives, she is blinded for life. the other does not survive. the surviving girl grows up a witch but this won't be realized, even by amira, for some time. (she's def giving unsettling lil girl who sees too much w blind eyes vibes and i love her v much <3) the boy is healthy and well.

idk if this is true ~or not~ but amira is convinced that her daughters' illness was not natural, as they had been steadily improving before they became sick. she is convinced that someone murdered one of her daughters and blinded/attempted to murder the other -- and probably tried on her youngest son, as well, but it didn't take. @forgottenroderick, being who he is, likely believes her w only limited persuasion, and also w the loss of another child probs re-enters his emo state for awhile -- welcome back goth emperor hours alksdjfksjdf

amira falls into a perpetual state of grief

overall, the delivery is extremely difficult. amira experiences severe bleeding and very nearly passes away, leaving her extremely weak with a difficult recovery. full disclosure, the generator did kill her but...nah, she/godfrey/tristan used some of their grandma's old witchy midwifery tricks and saved her or smth ig laksjdfjdsf

after the pregnancy, amira experiences general apathy, postnatal bleeding, fever and postpartum infection, frequent headaches, prolonged soreness, prolonged tiredness, increased appetite, lingering pain

couldn't have happened to a nicer person but lakjdsfkjldjf gotta say this all sucks so hard for amira honestly lkajdsfjkldsf damn

any naming suggestions?

i feel like roderick prefers english/visigothic naming conventions, so that's most common for the boy; amira prefers greek/middle eastern ones, so that's possibly more likely to show up for the girls, but edmund also def gets to weigh in on this and idk what he'd like! (and also i deffff welcome and want all suggestions/thoughts from ~everyone, ooc, as well!!)

some names i thought could work:

GIRLS

aida (returning, visitor)

alya/alia (heaven, sky, loftiness)

fatin (charming, seductive, fascinating)

alcinoe/alkinoe (strong mind)

arsinoe (raising of the mind)

aspasia (welcome, embrace)

kleonike/cleonica (glory, success, victory)

laodice (justce of the people)

philomena (beloved)

sophia (wisdom)

theodosia (giving to god)

xenia (foreigner, guest)

alodia (foreign riches)

aldara (battle aware)

BOY

alexander (protector of man)

alphonsus (noble and ready)

alvarus (all aware/conscious/guard)

amalric (unceasing/vigorous/brave king)

ambrose (immortal)

athanagild (year tribute)

fredenandus (peace/journey boldness/daring)

lysander (deliverer, savior)

odoacer/audovacar/odovacar (wealthy and vigilant)

theodemir (famous of the people)

theodoric (ruler of the people)

wymond (battle protection)

[lucky-draws]

(transcript + some notes/explanation under the cut:)

i feel like the context of this is maybe only apparent in my own head LOL so basically ive kind of imagined an au where, based on the rebirth ending, james has succeeded in bringing mary back to life, but also maria, and also james gets killed in the process. so it's basically just maria and mary alone in the townTM trying to figure each other out. and this is a letter maria sends mary at some point basically. transcript in case the font is annoying to read:

Mary, You’ll have to forgive me if any of this sounds a little weird. I haven’t written anybody a letter in years, and I’m not sure if I have much of a way with words. Though I’ve been spending a lot of time in Ernest’s library lately, so hopefully some of his great literature has rubbed off on me. Somehow, I had this idea that I never liked reading much - that it wasn’t really my style - but I ended up getting kind of hooked. His dusty old books sure aren’t the worst company in this town, at any rate. I wonder what we really are, you and I. I used to think of us as two music box dolls: dancing side by side, spinning in perfect unison to somebody else’s tune. Like a pair of clocks keeping the same time. Two parallel lines, and an impossibility for us to ever intersect, to face each other head-on without some kind of disaster.

We’re not completely identical, though. If you looked closely at me - if you could bear to do that - you’d see all my imperfections. I lack your fine details. The paint on my lips is messier, my joins are showing, and there are bits of sprew left between my fingers. Pick me up, and you’ll feel how much lighter I am - I’m missing a lot of internal parts, you see. I’m a knock-off - we were cast from different molds. You were born of nature, while I was born from your very own killer. But I suppose I don’t need to tell you that. Do you hate me? I understand if you do. Or maybe I’m not so important - maybe you can only think of him. Or perhaps you’re trying not to think of anything at all when you sit by that lake for hours on end. I don’t know how you can stand it - going to the lake every day. It's so quiet. No ducks, not even a single bird. I’d go crazy, I think. That’s why I like to stay at the bar: there’s no one here either, of course, but it feels easier to imagine there might be. To pretend that we’ve only just closed, that those drinks on the table belonged to the last customers, and not to me. I’ve been so restless lately, sitting in the bar all night. I wonder if - no, I guess I’m hoping that - something’s going to give, soon. I think I’m losing the beat  - I’m spinning slower than you are. I think it’s because I keep getting distracted, always thinking of you. I don’t know what it is. Perhaps it’s simply because you’re the only thing in this dreadful town that’s not a monster. But I think you must be as lonely as I am. Much more so, probably. And I can’t help but wonder what it would be like if you’d only reach through the mirror and touch me. I’m full of missing pieces, I know - but I have this notion that between us, we might just be able to come together into something like a real person. You know, some days I feel I hardly know who I am; but other times I feel so sure that I’m beginning to dance to my own beat. It’s no fun dancing alone, though. Well, I guess you know where to find me. I’ll be waiting at the bar tonight. I always am. I’ve waited there every night - for something, someone, anything, anyone - for what feels like forever. But these days, I’m just waiting for you. See you around, Maria

[vampyreelf]

Runaway

Request: hello! ive been having MAJOR house of wax/vincent brainrot....im wondering if you can do a vincent sinclair small fic? or something like that, im not used to fic terms,,,,,, it can be anything you want to write abt :3

A/N: Vincent Sinclair is so pookie, having brainrot about him is so valid and I totally get you, I hope you like it, let me know. 🫶

Summary: After suffering a mental breakdown, you decide to go on a road trip. You stumble upon a small town called Ambrose, and things escalate from there.

Vincent Sinclair x Reader

Warnings: just your run of the mill murder mentions, nothing much and dark undertones, this was low key fluffly.

GIF by @coppoladelrey

After you had a mental breakdown for being too overworked, you decided to go on a road trip so you can relax and just see new places. You avoided the highways because driving on those was extremely depressing so you were in country roads, now you were in Louisiana. It was hot and you were so thankful for your A/C being so powerful.

You decided to stop in a small town that you stumbled upon, it was around 1:00 PM and it was time to get more snacks and water, you parked your car in front of the small shop and you left the car. When you tried to enter the shop, it was locked. You found it odd since it was 24 hours, but you decided to wait to open again, you were in no rush so you decided to wait in your car.

Losing track of time playing games on your phone, you heard someone knocking at your window, you yelled and put your hand on your chest. You looked and you saw a man in a suit, you smiled tightly at him and left the car to be able to talk to him.

“You alright, sugar?” Bo thought it was extremely odd that not even Lester was able to see where you were coming from.

“Yeah, just passing by. I needed to buy some snacks for the journey, but it seems to be closed.” You pointed at the shop and Bo smiled at you.

“I think the owner had to leave for a few hours, you’re than welcomed to wait. But you shouldn’t in the car, come on I’ll walk you around the city, we have a wax museum that’s really cool. I’m Bo, by the way.” He raised his hand for you to shake and you did, you also introduced yourself.

The two of you walked towards the museum, and Bo kept asking questions such as why you were travelling, where you were heading and why you were by yourself. You didn't like the fact that he was almost interrogating you but you tried to keep your answers to a minimum. You weren’t to divulge the state of your mental health for this trip to be possible, you didn't resent Bo, you simply blamed it on southern hospitality so you remained pleasant and polite.

“Here we are, I have the keys to it so I can show you around.” Bo opened the door and allowed you to enter before him and he started telling the story about the museum. “Trudy was the woman that started it all, she had great talent we try to keep her legacy alive.” You looked at the the wax figures and they’re amazing, you’ve never seen anything like this before.

“It’s beautiful, who’s the current artist?” You asked whilst still looking at the statues, it was like nothing you’ve ever seen in your life before.

“His name is Vincent.” Bo informed you, he was watching you admiring Vincent’s work with genuine wonder and that made him smile.

“I’d love to meet him.” That was the only outcome for you, meeting the genius behind these sculptures, you felt a connection with him even though you have no idea who he is.

“He’s, well how do you say it? A recluse?” Bo explained to you and the way you deflated made his heart clench, why was he so affected by your sadness? He already looked at you with this sense of protection, he didn't want to kill you, it was strange.

“That’s a pity, it would be great to meet him.” You looked so sad, and Bo couldn’t have that. Vincent would kill him but if it was a bad idea Vincent was going to kill you anyway.

“Well, he lives down here. You can try to talk to him, can’t make any promises though.” Bo showed you the way and so you did, it was dark and you could tell that candles were lit.

Vincent was freaking out, why would Bo do this? Vincent didn't want to kill you at all, and you seemed very interested in his art. Ever since you and Bo entered the museum, Vincent was admiring you and he wanted to make you his muse.

“Hello? Vincent? I was looking at your art and it was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, and I’d love to meet you if you want.” The hope in your voice was the most amazing thing for Vincent, you were so respectful and you loved his art Vincent’s heart was skipping a beat, he wanted to get to know you but you would scream and run away as soon as you saw him. “I hope you can hear me, your art is amazing.” Vincent took a deep breath and showed in your field of vision and he couldn’t even look up to your face of disgust.

“Hi! I’m so glad to meet you, Bo said that you were more of an introvert so it’s an honour.” You got close to him and raised your hand to shake Vincent’s, he reluctantly raised his and looked at you and you had the biggest smile Vincent has ever seen. He didn't say anything and you assumed that he was a man of few words. “Well, I think that I should leave you be. You’re probably very busy and I didn't mean to intrude, so I should get going.” Vincent started panicking, he didn't want you to leave.

Vincent grabbed your arm and guided you to one of his almost finished figure, you were admiring Vincent’s work and he was admiring you, your eyes, your cheeks, your complexion. He didn't want you to leave, and he didn't want you to die, he needed you.

“That’s amazing, Vincent. Thank you for showing me this.” You put your hand in his arm and smiled at him warmly, you couldn’t deny that his shy nature drew you in. You wanted to learn more about him, maybe you could stay a bit longer in this town. Vincent nodded and in a bold move, he put his hand on top of yours. “I hope that you can say yes, but totally alright if you don’t…would you like to go out for a cup of coffee with me?” You internally cringed with how awkward you were but Vincent couldn’t help but love it. He nodded and he was glad he did, because he was able to see the biggest smile he has ever seen.

“Great, well I better find a hotel. Do you know any?” Vincent nodded his head, he would need Bo’s help to keep you here. He doesn’t want you to leave.

You’re his, his muse, forever.

Bo already got your car broken when he didn't hear any screams he realised that Vincent didn't want you to leave, at all. Meanwhile, you and Vincent were spending this time contemplating art and talking about it, you were so excited where this was taking you, and Vincent already knew that you weren’t leaving at all.

[everybodysaynoooooo]

Save Me - Kim Taehyung ff [Chap IV]

Synopsis: Two crowns are crumbling. One heir who won’t yield. And a bodyguard who stays just a little too close. In a world where masks fall faster than heads, he’ll have to decide who’s worth trusting —before everything falls apart. He wanted peace. He found war —and a bodyguard with more secrets than commands.

k.taehyung x f.oc

Words count : 10,8k words

Genre : Kingdom AU, enemies to lovers, bodyguard x royalty, fluff, angst, smut, slow burn

Chap content : Battle scene, mention of blood/wound, strong language, mild tension, Taehyung is a dick, slight tension, minors dni!

If anyone wants to be tagged for this fic, don't be afraid to ask !

Gentle reminder that all rights are reserved, so please do not copy, translate or repost my stories. Also I do not own BTS or their actions, the stories are fictionnal and does not depict real-life events or involve any actual member of BTS.

<- Previous - Masterlist - Next ->

The royal servants of Irinian are used to chaos.

They’re used to sudden requests that must be fulfilled to the letter and in the shortest possible time. They’re used to doing a lot with very little.

Back at the palace in the Capital, things were buzzing like that every day —at least before the crisis erupted in Hestidia and we all got scattered across every corner of the Kingdom.

To begin with, there’s the music —a miniature orchestra on every floor, playing nonstop, all at my little sister’s command. The habit became so deeply rooted that even when the child isn’t around, the halls of the royal residence echo with music all day long.

The second a royal child sets foot in a building, musicians start playing —case in point, that idiotic group of violinists who followed me here and took several days to get rid of.

The more you think about it, the clearer it becomes: everyone in my family has some sort of whim like this.

My mother the Queen, for instance, used to love having tea with her ladies-in-waiting —she did it every morning, always in a different room or location.

My younger brother is obsessed with chess —to the point that he summons a so-called champion every week, just for the thrill of defeating him.

Because really, who in their right mind wouldn’t let a Royal Prince win?

And then there were the receptions —not a week went by without some grand affair at the Capital Palace. Always over-the-top. Always so dazzling that guests walked out starry-eyed and speechless for hours.

So yes, the royal household staff is used to noise, nonsense, and sudden absurd demands.

But I’ve never seen them as panicked as they were today.

Oddly enough, after the whole scene in the field right before I went to see Jimin, Min’s been… easier to deal with —and by that I mean, she’s finally started following my orders.

Well. Following is a strong word.

Let’s just say she takes them into consideration —which, all things considered, is already a massive change.

When I ask her to fetch something, she still grumbles like before —but now she actually does it, or at least gets someone else to.

When I tell her to go groom my horse instead of breathing down my neck, she obeys —although I suspect that has more to do with her affection for Xylos than for me, which is perfectly fine as long as she leaves me breathe.

When I tell her to leave me alone because I want to be by myself, she now walks fifteen paces behind me instead of five.

And the time I told her to go kill a deer during a hunting trip ? She rolled her eyes with what I’m pretty sure was the full extent of her strength —completely unfazed by the fact I could’ve had her head chopped off right there— but she did it. And faster than I could’ve done it myself, mind you.

I don’t know what got into her to cause this sudden shift —and frankly, I don’t care— but I have to admit, I don’t hate it.

Let’s not get carried away.

She’s still rude and insufferable, but at least — at least — she listens to me.

Kind of.

When it doesn’t bother her too much.

Only when it doesn’t bother her too much.

Just earlier, for example: A dressmaker showed up at the castle with her entire kit to prepare my outfit for the upcoming ball. Naturally, everyone was ordered out of the room, but Min stayed put —as if anyone but me would dare deny her permission. All the staff seem to already adore her. Tch.

Anyway, when I ordered her to sit down —because she was irritating me, standing there doing nothing with her hands clasped behind her back— she glared at me. 

Glared. At me.

Then she flashed that infuriatingly innocent smile of hers and said some bullshit like, ‘I wouldn’t dare sit while my dear Prince remains standing.’ Blah blah blah.

She gets on my nerves in ways I didn’t even know were possible.

“Forgive me, Your Highness, I’ll need you to lift your arms…”

Without even glancing at the nervous dressmaker fumbling to take my measurements, I lift my arms —barely— and let out a loud sigh, halfway between annoyed and bored.

Min turns to me immediately, one eyebrow raised, and shoots me the most contemptuous look I’ve ever received in my life.

She doesn’t say anything, but her eyes might as well scream: You call yourself a Prince, and you can’t even stand properly?

I tilt my head slightly, raising an eyebrow of my own. She rolls her eyes and shakes her head.

She can say —or think— whatever she wants. If this tailoring session is going to bore me to death, I won’t bother hiding it.

I already have dozens of suits anyway. With the number of balls the Royal Palace hosts each year, there’s no avoiding them.

But honestly, what’s the point in having so many frivolous outfits if you only wear each one once?

And while we’re at it, why the hell does this stupid dressmaker need to take my measurements every time? Can’t she just use the ones from the suit I got last week?!

Another sigh escapes me —more frustrated this time— and turns into a growl when she makes a clumsy move and nearly stabs me in the ribs with a pin.

You have got to be kidding me. Who let this walking disaster touch me with needles?

I grit my teeth, on the verge of losing it, when someone knocks at the door, slicing through the already-fragile silence of the room.

The second the sound rings out, Min straightens and heads for the door, so fast you’d think she’s just as on edge as I am.

Good.

I refuse to suffer alone through this farce.

I keep my eyes on her as she speaks with a maid at the threshold —and as the dressmaker nervously drapes a piece of fabric over my shirt, I try to focus on something —anything— and attempt to make out what Min and the maid are saying.

Useless.

Min’s clearly been trained to keep her lips unreadable —she barely parts them when she speaks —I swear she does it on purpose. And since the maid stayed behind the door, I can hardly see her face.

When she finally leaves, Min returns to her spot against the wall as if nothing happened —as if I weren’t even in the room.

Which, of course, irritates me further.

“What is it?” I ask at last, teeth clenched as the dressmaker drops a pin and makes an enormous fuss picking it up.

Min arches a brow, like she’s surprised I even care —as if there’s anything better to look at in this room. “She came to inform me the convoy is ready to depart.”

Oh, right.

That stupid convoy.

Let me guess —my personal guard is about to be scattered to the other end of the Kingdom again ?

“Hm-hm,” I reply with a glare toward the dressmaker, whose very existence is now a personal offense.

“I ordered the Special Guard to prepare to leave with them. With the upcoming assembly, the King asked for as many men to be regrouped as possible. I thought it best my soldiers be there as early as possible.”

The last part is delivered in a slightly different tone —not quite hesitant, but not neutral either.

As if she’s asking for my opinion without actually asking.

Which she is —she’s indirectly asking if I mind being separated from the Special Guard.

Min, asking for my opinion? I almost want to laugh.

Slowly, I unclench my jaw and shoot her a smug smile, eyebrows raised. “So what you’re saying is… you’ve arranged a little tête-à-tête for us until Mudfront, Min?”

I expect her to scoff, or at least roll her eyes —but she doesn’t.

No, instead, her eyebrows climb higher than mine, and an incredulous look crosses her face.

“I’ll admit, I expected you to order me to leave with them,” she says at last, almost amused by the reversal. “But if that’s how Your Highness chooses to see things, who am I to challenge your thinking?”

Touché. And I’m the one who ends up rolling my eyes.

“Don’t tempt me, Min,” I mutter, knowing full well that even if I did order her to leave, she’d just hit me with her usual ‘I obey the King, not you’ speech —and all I could do to answer that is glare.

She doesn’t respond, her eyes drifting instead to the dressmaker, still messing around with her cursed pins, forehead drenched in sweat. “When this is done, we can leave whenever you wish. Mudfort is only a couple hours on horseback —we’ll easily arrive before nightfall.”

All she gets in response is a grumble, mostly because I’m still trying to set the dressmaker’s hair on fire with my eyes. With how much she’s being paid for this stupid suit, you’d think she could do her job properly, for heaven’s sake —but no, obviously.

Min doesn’t seem to mind. “Of course, if you’d prefer, we can always leave tomorrow morning, well rested.”

That gets my attention. I glance up at her, eyebrow raised. She has that usual unreadable expression —and yet, I swear I can see the hint of a smirk in her eyes.

Unbelievable.

Did this brat just imply that two measly hours on horseback would be too tiring for me?!

“Oh, don’t worry about me,” I reply with a smile so fake it practically drips poison. I don’t even try to make it convincing. “If I were you, I’d be more worried about your leg.”

Her mask cracks for a second —bingo— and that glint in her gaze vanishes, replaced by something harder.

Classic Min —glaring at me in every situation. Meanwhile, my smile sharpens like a blade.

“You should get some rest. An injury like that must be excruciating.”

“Your Highness is too kind,” she grits out, jaw tighter than mine had been moments ago, eyes darkening at my victorious smirk.

“I know. I get that a lot,” I shoot back coldly, and the smile vanishes as I glare at her again.

She narrows her eyes, lips parting as if to say something —but stops short when I raise an eyebrow in challenge.

Pure delight.

“That’s enough. I’m done,” I snap suddenly, waving the dressmaker away like I would a fly. “Just make sure the outfit is ready by the day after tomorrow. Until then, get out of my sight.”

Min shoots me another judgmental look —a luxury the dressmaker can’t afford, bowing low enough to kiss my feet before scuttling out with her things.

Min opens the door for her —and surprisingly has enough respect for etiquette to hold it until I pass too.

I start walking down the hallway, headed for my room —never in my life have I needed a bath more than after that idiotic invasion of my personal space— and, as always, Min trails close behind.

But I’ve barely taken ten steps when a maid approaches, silver tray in hand.

“Your Highness,” she starts timidly, head bowed so low I can barely see her face —but that’s fine. I love talking to hair —notice the sarcasm. “A letter for you. The messenger said it was urgent.”

It’s only when she says letter that I notice the slim envelope resting on the tray. My eyes go straight to the seal —still intact— and I recognize the emblem instantly.

Half a flower. In a half-circle.

From the corner of my eye, I see Min looking at the letter too. She says nothing, her face a perfect mask.

I take the letter without a word and start walking again. The maid bows and disappears, and soon the only sounds in the corridor are my footsteps —and Min’s, behind me.

Jaw tight, I open the envelope mid-stride. The paper inside isn’t a real letter —just a few scribbled lines, and thank the stars for that. No time to waste on pleasantries.

And yet, those few lines are enough to bring me to a dead stop.

Change of plans. I ran into some trouble, but I’m fine. I’ll explain at Mudfront. J.

It takes me a second to realize I’ve completely frozen in place.

Trouble? Mudfront?!

Jimin is supposed to be in hiding.

I’m the one acting like a show pony so the plan can move forward.

Jimin is not supposed to be at the Spring Ball in Mudfront in two days.

No one expects him there. No one even hopes him there.

So why...?

Shit.

Trouble.

The Special Guard must’ve found him —I’d bet anything on it. He was going to meet them eventually anyway, but this… this hits different. This feels heavy —on my shoulders, especially.

What if he didn’t make it? What if they caught him, forced him to write this?

What if it’s a trap? No way in hell am I letting anyone use Jimin to serve my father’s ends.

And above all —how the hell did they find him so fa—

“Is something wrong, Your Highness?”

The calm, composed voice behind me snaps me out of it. Female. Controlled. Unreadable.

It doesn’t betray a single thing —and when I turn and find myself face to face with Min, who’s moved just a little closer, her expression is just as unreadable.

Still that same neutral look, focused but somehow distant —and yet, she’s standing close enough to read the letter over my shoulder.

And her eyes—

Her fucking eyes are shining with that look I hate.

That little glimmer of intelligence, of insight, of self-assurance that drives me so mad I want to rip those perfect hazel orbs right out of her perfect face.

And I couldn’t even begin to describe the force with which I stare at her, because at that exact moment, facing those two vast, brown abysses she calls eyes, something clicks in my head.

The other night, when I got back, Gallien —who’d come to take care of Xylos and, as usual, talked three times more than necessary— had laughed about seeing a strange bird fly off from the castle, heading west.

He figured some servant had borrowed a bird from the aviary to send a letter to their family.

But the Royal Family only uses carrier pigeons.

And the bird Gallien described? Sounded a hell of a lot more like a bird of prey.

It was her.

It had to be her.

I knew she was nothing but a damn spy —she must’ve grown suspicious after seeing me leave for the woods and rushed to pass on the intel.

I knew it.

Goddamn it, I knew.

I should’ve shot that fucking bullet straight through her head.

The words are out of my mouth before I even register the thought —and I turn on my heel without giving myself the satisfaction of watching her face crumble.

“Why don’t you go check the manure pit and see if I’m in there, Min.”

After almost a month working by his side, I still couldn’t say for sure if the Prince had become slightly less unbearable… or three times worse.

I’d had the stupid impression things had improved. That he’d finally come to terms with the fact that I’m his bodyguard now, whether he likes it or not. Hell, I even dared hope that letting him shoot me in the thigh without saying a word would soothe his nerves and finally calm him down.

Well clearly, I was dead wrong.

I’m not exactly the easily rattled type —hard to see how I would’ve made lieutenant in the special guard otherwise. In fact, I’d even say it takes a hell of a lot to scare me.

And yet… I’ve got to admit that the glare the Prince shot me in that hallway completely froze me on the spot.

It wasn’t the fact that he was glaring at me that caught me off guard —it was how intensely he did it. Like if he’d had the chance to slit my throat right then and there, he would’ve done it without blinking. And judging by the words he spat at me before storming off, I’m guessing he really considered it.

I’ve somehow gotten used to being on the receiving end of his constant dagger eyes —to the point where I’m not sure his face can do anything else— but this time, I was left speechless mostly because I honestly couldn’t think of what I’d done to piss him off that badly.

Then again, maybe I don’t even want to know. That fury of his mostly resulted in one thing, for now: a silent, tension-charged ride all the way to Mudfront with not a single word or look exchanged… and a peaceful kind of quiet once we arrived, since His Highness won’t even bother to bark orders at me anymore.

Good. At least I can do my job in peace.

I just make sure to watch my back twice as much as before —I wouldn’t want him to push me down the stairs and actually succeed just because I wasn’t paying attention.

Not that there’s much danger of that here —Mudfront is one of the rare royal residences without an upper floor. Everything’s built on one level, which means the estate spreads over a much larger area than most.

This is where the Spring Ball takes place every year, thrown for the younger generation of the royal family. It’s not so much a celebration of the returning sun as just another excuse to throw a party —but I guess you’ve got to find something to keep all these princes and princesses busy.

Usually, heirs from the other kingdoms are invited too, but this year —thanks to the crisis in Hestidia— it’s just the King’s own children in attendance. Along with their personal entourages, of course.

I can already tell it’s going to be exhausting.

Since the Prince’s personal guard is still stationed at the border, the special guard made the trip from Ebonwick to escort His Highness —and I, obviously, came along in his shadow. As ordered.

When we got here, I had the pleasure of reuniting with Princess Taeyeon’s guard, and met the team assigned to the Prince’s younger brother, Taehui. The other heirs —four kids even younger than Taeyeon— don’t have individual teams yet. Just one bodyguard watching over the lot of them, and honestly, he smiles way too much for a man forced to babysit royal toddlers.

All in all, the estate’s packed with soldiers. Not to mention all the courtiers and servants sent along for the event. I’ve attended Spring Balls before, of course —but I have to admit, the rumors weren’t lying: Irinian really is the grandest of the Kingdoms —you only need to show up at one of their parties to see it.

Cutting-edge décor. Gold everywhere. Exquisite dishes laid out on silver trays. Centerpieces taller than two men. Famous musicians. The best dancers from the region…

Oh yeah. No question about it —the royal family definitely knows how to throw a party.

Almost makes me nostalgic for the good old days.

For the occasion, they swapped out my usual black uniform for something more “refined” —though the color stayed very much the same.

My standard black shirt was replaced with a sleek, tight-fitting cotton piece, embroidered with the King’s crest in gold thread on the high collar. They also gave me a new pair of boots —slimmer, more elegant. A pair that definitely screams less “soldier.”

And when the maid who’d been prepping the Prince for the evening saw me come out of my room, she begged me to let her get me ready too —and as much as it pains me to say it, she was so insistent I ended up caving, even though I’d firmly refused at first.

And I keep telling myself: this is stupid. This ball is a perfect setup for anyone looking to strike at the heirs. For nearly a month, they’ve all been scattered and hidden across the kingdom for protection —and now, suddenly, we gather them in one place for the sake of a little soirée? It’s a dumb idea, honestly —no wonder the King deployed so many guards for the occasion.

I really don’t have time to be getting pampered —I should already be by the Prince’s side, keeping an eye out for danger, even if the only thanks I’d get would be another barked insult.

Yoongi’s always saying I’m too soft for this job. And maybe he’s right, because now my scalp itches like hell thanks to the glitter the maid dusted into my hair. She mumbled something about the Crown Prince’s bodyguard needing to look just as dazzling as he does —but all I took from it was that she mostly wanted someone prettier and less grumpy to play dress-up with.

And honestly, just for that, I’ll put up with the damn glitter.

As the weeks went by, I eventually came to accept that I’m not the best at reading His Highness Prince Taehyung’s moods. In fact, the only emotion I can reliably identify on his face is anger—and, occasionally, weariness —though that probably has more to do with the fact that those are the only expressions he ever deigns to wear in my presence.

And yet, tonight, surrounded by twirling melodies and people who seem physically incapable of stopping smiling, I feel fairly confident in saying this: Taehyung does not want to be here.

Not that I know why —or even care to, for that matter.

Still, even from five paces behind him, I can see the strained smiles he offers to those who come up to greet him, and the way his gaze keeps flicking back over his shoulder —as if I weren’t here precisely to do that job for him.

And right now, while the music plays louder and wilder than ever, and the ladies’ gowns whirl at the center of the great hall, the Prince is leaning against a marble column, a glass of alcohol in hand.

And though I’ve grown used to seeing him irritated, disdainful, or simply aloof, I find myself unsure what to make of his expression at this moment. Because he doesn’t look any of those things.

He just looks like he’d rather be anywhere else.

Which almost makes me wonder if this whole ridiculous soirée is fraying his nerves as much as it’s fraying mine.

His brown outfit —the color of the Kingdom of Irinian— is breathtaking, embroidered in gold thread in every direction, and the palace servants clearly outdid themselves in getting him ready. But despite that, something doesn’t sit right. The attire shines; his face does not.

I wonder what could—

“Big brother!”

The Prince and I turn in unison toward the voice —high-pitched and excited, unmistakably that of a young girl. And not just any young girl: Princess Taeyeon, hurtling through the crowd in her little brown dress, headed straight for her dear older brother.

The Prince’s eyes widen slightly, and he instinctively sets his still nearly-full glass down on a nearby table —just in time for Taeyeon to crash into him and wrap her tiny arms around his legs.

“I doubt that’s the kind of conduct becoming of the Kingdom’s princess…” I hear him mutter, raising a brow, though he still presses a hand lightly to her hair —the most intimate gesture etiquette allows in public.

Unbothered by his words, she tilts her head up at him with a beaming smile. “I missed you so much, brother!” she declares.

The Prince opens his mouth, likely to reply —but he doesn’t get the chance.

Because right then, by some miracle —or perhaps curse— the Princess’s eyes drift away from her beloved brother and land on me, five steps away, as though she’s only just noticed I’m there.

And from that moment on, Prince Taehyung is all but forgotten in the mind of the young child.

“Harin!” she cries, even louder this time, and I swear her eyes light up.

She barrels toward me with even more force, making me stumble back a step under the impact. Just like with her brother, she wraps her arms around my legs and hugs me tight —tight enough to make me swallow a grimace when she presses against my wound.

It’s mostly healed —almost a scar by now— but damn, it still stings like hell.

A sheepish smile tugs at my lips as I awkwardly try to pry her off, gently. She only squeezes harder in response. I vaguely recall her governess, Marge, saying that when the Princess demands cuddles, one must oblige —but is that really going to fly in front of the entire court?

Judging by the glare Prince Taehyung is now shooting me, I sincerely doubt it.

Then again, that glare doesn’t particularly scare me. Not only because it’s been nearly a full day since he last tried to incinerate me with his eyes —I was starting to worry at the lack of it— but because it doesn’t feel like anger, not really.

It feels like he’s sulking. Sulking that his little sister chose to run to me instead of listening to what he was about to say.

Honestly, I’m almost grateful for the attention. It’s the most interested he’s looked all evening, even though this whole party was supposedly organized to lift the royal family’s spirits. We’ll just call it a win that he’s back to actively hating me.

“You lied to me,” the Princess suddenly exclaims, pouting up at me.

I blink. “Pardon?”

“You said you’d come visit me again!” she complains, even stamping her little foot -and out of the corner of my eye, I see the Prince raise a brow, clearly amused.

Oh, great.

“Isn’t that exactly what I’m doing today, Your Highness?” I try, forcing a conciliatory smile. She seems to consider it for a moment before finally accepting it, her grin returning full-force.

“You have to come back to the palace again, we’re soooo bored!” she insists, pouting again with those ridiculous puppy eyes.

Behind her, the Prince bristles. “Taeyeon, enough. Behave,” he snaps, and she releases her grip —though one small hand still clings to my trousers.

For the first time since the corridor incident, the Prince looks at me with something other than murderous intent —or… well. Maybe just less murderous. His expression is no longer furious, but guarded, suspicious. A look that says you better have a good explanation.

But before he can interrogate or threaten me —which, let’s be honest, is probably seconds away— another voice joins the scene.

One I never would’ve expected in the current political hellscape tearing our kingdoms apart.

“Well! A family reunion, is it? Lucky you…”

The Prince turns around like he’s been struck by lightning. He shifts just enough for me to catch sight of the man standing behind him.

Slightly shorter than Taehyung, narrower in the shoulders —enough that he was completely hidden behind him a second ago. His face is long but fine-boned, with a sharpness that’s softened by round cheeks.

And above all, his eyes —narrow, gleaming, curling into crescents when he smiles —more so than Taehyung’s ever do when he’s mad.

As if that weren’t enough to identify him, there’s the perfectly styled blond hair, the signature of his family, and the soft pastel yellow of his suit —the color of Hestidia.

Standing before us, smiling like this is all perfectly normal, is none other than Prince Jimin —the most wanted man in both kingdoms. Possibly in all the Known Lands.

I don’t know which of us looks more stunned —me or Taehyung— but judging by the way Jimin chuckles, he finds our faces very entertaining.

I’d figured out —by following Taehyung around under protest, granted— that he was somewhere in Irinian.

But here, tonight ? I wasn’t expecting this.

Beside me, Princess Taeyeon gasps in delight, snapping me back to reality.

“Your Highness,” I blurt out, bowing hastily, my voice a little unsteady from sheer surprise.

When I straighten, I find myself face to face with the radiant smile of the Hestidian heir, his eyes crinkling again in that warm, seemingly genuine way.

“You must be Miss Min, I presume? I’ve heard quite a bit about you.”

His smile grows —impossibly— and I slowly nod.

“That’s correct, Your Highness.”

“Oh, call me Jimin, please,” he exclaims, looking almost offended at the formality. And with surprising grace, he lifts my hand to his lips.

Prince Taehyung nearly pops a vein, and I’m pretty sure I’m wearing the same expression. Did he seriously just kiss my hand like I’m some noble lady?!

“I could never,” I manage once I recover. It only makes him smile wider.

“Well then, I suppose I’ll just have to keep asking.”

A sharp cough ends our exchange —Taehyung, obviously, visibly irritated. Jimin turns toward him, and from the way he presses his lips together, I’d bet he’s trying not to laugh.

Neither says a word —they just stare, silently, eyes locked in some secret conversation I couldn’t begin to decode. Then, finally, Jimin turns back to me, the grin returning.

“Would you do me the honor of a dance, Miss Min?”

Taehyung groans and rolls his eyes —I, on the other hand, think my eyebrows just flew straight off my face.

The contrast between the two Princes couldn’t be starker —or more unsettling.

“Y-You flatter me, Your Highness, but I must decline. You may be here to enjoy yourself —I’m here to work.”

Taehyung throws a pointed glare at Jimin that, for once, seems to align with my own thinking. Jimin just keeps smiling.

“However,” I add —hesitant at first, then more confident— “there’s a young lady here who would be delighted to accept.”

Both Princes turn toward Princess Taeyeon, who blinks at me in surprise.

“Princess Taeyeon,” Jimin says gallantly, that same glowing smile on his face, “you look absolutely radiant. I would be honored if you’d share this dance with me.”

The Princess’s cheeks turn pink with pleasure. “The honor is mine,” she replies shyly, finally releasing my trousers to take his offered hand.

As he gently leads her toward the dance floor, he tosses me a wink before turning away. Taehyung grunts and rolls his eyes again —but doesn’t make a single move to stop them.

No. Instead, he leans back against the marble column once more, eyes fixed on his friend, who’s now doing everything he can to make the little princess laugh as he spins her around.

“You knew he’d be here?” I ask after a moment, my voice breaking the strange stillness between us, despite the orchestra just meters away.

“I know a great many things, Min,” he replies, enigmatic as ever. His voice drops to a whisper. “As do you.”

I turn toward him, frowning. I don’t like the tone he’s taken. “I had no idea he would be here, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“I couldn’t care less what you don’t know, Min,” he cuts in coldly, his voice laced with disdain. “What I care about is what you do.”

When he turns to look at me, his black eyes have regained that sharp, chilling glint —that silent threat that’s not so silent anymore.

“And that’s exactly why you’re going to be a good girl —and stay far, far away from my business.”

The Spring Ball goes the way all Spring Balls do.

Grandiose. Dazzling in its extravagance, deafening in its endless music and dancing, exquisite in its delicacies and tiresome small talk.

But more than anything, slow.

Maybe it’s not very gracious of me to think that —especially considering the whole thing has practically been organized in my honor— but, honestly, not even the alcohol can cheer me up. At the palace, they serve me better wine —and at least there, I can enjoy it in peace.

Here, the music splits my ears —it’s even more “festive” than what we have at the palace, which is saying something— and not five minutes go by without some Lord or Lady —whose name I wouldn’t remember even if I cared to try— coming to interrupt me with the same meaningless nonsense the nobility’s been recycling for years.

The returning sun. The upcoming receptions in the Capital. The Princess’s birthday. The young Princes. The Queen —who, apparently, still looks twenty despite being well past that. Blah blah blah. 

Occasionally, the conversations get a little juicier. A baron rumored to have gambled everything away, a lady said to be cheating on her husband… And then, sometimes —when the wine is flowing and the tongues loosen— people dare to whisper about the death of Princess Jiwon. Sometimes. Some really rare times.

In short, nothing but the usual dull noise. Just gossip so insipid it almost makes me want to strike up a conversation with that ferret Min —at least she doesn’t waste time repeating herself and gossipping about all this bullshit.

In the name of tradition —and mostly just to get people to leave me alone— I grant three dances to three different young ladies, all blushing and stammering the moment my hand brushes theirs. Which only leads to awkward small talk and an impressive number of crushed toes —mine, I should specify— and that surprisingly does nothing to improve my mood.

The whole time, Min stays at a distance, leaning against the wall like a shadow. I can feel her watching me from afar —me, and anyone who might come too close— but I have to admit, when she wants to, she can disappear pretty well. After a while, I almost forget she’s even there —though I’m not sure if it’s the alcohol dulling my senses or if she’s actually decided to give me some space tonight.

When the music finally dies down and my third dance partner walks off, face as red as a beet after one of those ridiculous deep curtsies, I don’t even try to stifle the weary sigh that escapes me.

What the hell am I doing at this giant masquerade.

Thankfully, no one notices how fed up I look —or maybe not “thankfully,” actually. A bit of scandal might’ve spiced things up.

A more upbeat melody starts playing —something fast, jubilant— and the crowd rushes to the center of the ballroom while I retreat as quickly as possible.

Two circles form: a large one, and a smaller one inside it. Everyone’s doing the same sequence of steps, a sort of bizarre jig that looks suspiciously similar to the ones villagers perform during local festivals.

A little too rustic for my taste —and that’s being generous.

But in the middle of the grand ballroom, with people twirling and laughing and shouting, all you see are spinning dresses and smiling faces —in other words, everyone’s having a grand old time.

And that’s exactly the moment I choose to slip away.

Not that I’d planned it —no secret agenda tonight— no, this time, it’s almost innocent. The sight of all this carefree joy, so wildly disconnected from the crisis shaking both our kingdoms, is enough to make my skin crawl. The cool breeze that hits my face the moment I step onto one of the small balconies feels like the first breath I’ve taken all evening.

Slowly, I lean over the railing and let my head fall back, eyes closed. From here, I can still hear the music, but it’s ten times softer than in the ballroom —and mixed with the gentle sounds of nature and the wind, it actually feels… peaceful.

A part of me knows I can’t really blame them —these people who dance with no weight on their shoulders. In Irinian, the only ones truly aware of the situation in Hestidia are my father, the Council, and me —and Jimin, now that he’s left his Kingdom. And while I have a strong suspicion that Min knows more than she lets on, it would be naive to expect the rest of the nobility to be even mildly alarmed.

To them, it’s nothing more than what the King allowed the papers to print: a few peasants here and there rising up in protest, unhappy with their lot. Nothing Hestidia can’t handle.

And yet, no matter how often I remind myself of that, it doesn’t stop the nausea rising in my throat when I watch them laugh and dance like none of it exists.

“The party not to your liking?”

I don’t even have to turn around to recognize that bright, familiar voice approaching from behind. I don’t bother straightening up, just open my eyes again.

“Rarely is,” I reply simply, bringing my glass to my lips as I watch the gardens. “I tend to prefer quiet over wild celebration.”

“Quiet? Now that’s a concept your family’s never quite grasped,” Jimin jokes, letting out a little laugh as he leans against the railing beside me.

“Oh, believe me, I’m well aware,” I mutter with a sigh —and I surprise myself with how easily his little chuckle pulls a faint smile from my own lips.

Silence settles between us. Comfortable. Calm.

He watches the party through the glass while I keep my gaze on the garden. Both of us, quiet smiles lingering.

Then, after a moment, I’m the one to break it. “You should’ve warned me you’d be here tonight. With all my siblings under the same roof, who knows how many assassins might try their luck. That’s completely irresponsible.”

He just smiles wider —clearly amused by my concern, dressed up as scolding.

“I did warn you,” he says, looking rather pleased with himself when I raise a skeptical brow. “In the letter. I told you we’d meet again in Mudfront —what, did you really think I’d sneak in like a rat and not take advantage of all this fun?”

He lets a beat pass. I don’t answer. Of course, part of me had understood he’d be here tonight —I just didn’t expect him to make such a show of it.

Didn’t expect him to show up glowing in his Kingdom’s colors, to dance half the night without a care in the world —of which at least four times with my sister, claiming he “just can’t resist her little face,” or some other bullshit like that.

It’s reckless —borderline suicidal— but it’s also just… Jimin.

People think he’s on the run, hiding, desperate. He does the exact opposite. Shows up right in front of the entire court, more radiant and proud than ever.

“A party of this magnitude shouldn’t happen without me,” he declares, as if reading my mind. His smile fades now, gaze drifting back toward the ballroom. He reaches for my glass and takes a sip without asking.

I twitch at his nerve —but let him. I’ve had enough of it anyway -and the wine’s not even that good.

“When my father finds out you're here, he’s going to send the royal guard after you,” I mutter.

He just flashes a smug little grin. “I don’t remember you being this scared of your dad,” he quips —and laughs when I shoot him a glare. “Don’t worry about the Special Guard. I’ve got it under control.”

That catches my attention. I turn toward him, narrowing my eyes. “What do you mean, ‘under control’? Don’t tell me you—”

He cuts me off with a nod. “They were on me barely two days after we saw each other at the tavern. No idea how they got here so fast, thought —didn’t you say they’d already gone back to Hestidia?”

Now it’s my turn to nod, eyes narrowed. “Hmm.” Then, after a short pause: “Someone must’ve seen us.”

By someone, I obviously mean that sneaky little weasel Min. All of this is her fault.

“I don’t know. Doesn’t matter much now, anyway,” he shrugs. “I’ve got it under control. Don’t worry.”

“Oh, so mister Cat-Eyes agreed to listen to you?” I mutter, borderline sarcastic.

“Who? Oh, the lieutenant? Hmm-hmm. He was actually pretty reasonable. Way less awful than you made him sound.”

I raise a doubtful eyebrow.

I vaguely recall saying Min was worse than a thorn in the foot. But right now, I can’t quite remember if I said that about Cat-Eyes or not. Doesn’t matter. I didn’t spend long around him, but it was clear enough he was the less unbearable one of the two. And of course, I got stuck with the disrespectful leech.

“Your bodyguard, too. They’re really alike —think they’re related? She seems charming, anyway.”

I let out a short, scornful laugh and don’t even bother answering the first part of that sentence. I could not care less about any potential blood ties between my bodyguard and Jimin’s. All I know is she gives me a constant urge to look over my shoulder —and that’s already too much.

“Even if I agreed with you on that, trust me, it’s just an act.”

He gives me a sideways look that reeks of disapproval —not that it changes anything for me.

“Maybe you should loosen up a little, hmm?” he starts, and I cut him off with another scoff.

“Yeah, great idea. Let me relax in front of my father’s watchdog. Genius move, Jimin.” He rolls his eyes. “Look, I’d bet good money she’s the reason the lieutenant found you so fast. She just shadows me, waiting for the slightest excuse to report everything I do to my father—”

“Actually, I’m not so sure about that.” He cuts in, thoughtful, swirling the last of his drink in small circles. “Ever since I met the lieutenant, and contrary to what I expected, he hasn’t brought up the King even once. Doesn’t even seem interested in taking me anywhere. I barely had to negotiate —he just said he was here to protect me if needed, nothing more.”

His words give me pause. Could we have been wrong? Was the special guard really sent just to protect us in this mess —and nothing else?

No. No way.

“Maybe he said that just to earn your trust.”

Jimin narrows his eyes, clearly mulling that over, gaze distant… then shrugs. “Maybe. I don’t think so… But don’t worry, I’m keeping an eye on him.”

“Hmm-hmm. So am I,” I mutter, jaw tightening at the mere thought of Min.

He grins mischievously. “Yeah, maybe a bit too much of an eye, if you ask me.” At my glare, he adds, “What? I’m just saying —you act twice as suspicious when you're constantly on edge around her—”

“Alright, thanks for the commentary, but now shut it and let me handle my mess alone, would you?” I grumble, snatching my glass back from his hands. He bursts out laughing.

“You’ve always been way too tightly wound. You gotta chill out, Taetae,” he snickers, all proud of himself as he throws out that ridiculous nickname he used when we were kids.

“I said: shut it.” I growl, and he just laughs harder.

He opens his mouth to say something else —still half-laughing— but he doesn’t get the chance, because like a lightning strike splitting a tree, the lights in the entire estate suddenly go out, and dozens of panicked screams erupt from the ballroom.

On instinct, Jimin’s hand clamps around my arm like he’s scared I’ll disappear into the sudden dark. The building and the ballroom are plunged into such complete blackness we can barely make out the panicked nobles crowding together. The night’s already fallen, so we can’t count on any light from outside, either.

Inside, it’s chaos —no need to strain to hear it. Screams, crying, sharp bangs, the distinct sound of skirts swishing and colliding as everyone rushes in every direction at once.

From the balcony, I can even see nobles bolting from the building, running toward their carriages so fast it looks like they’re…

…running from something.

And above it all, the orchestra has gone silent, replaced by the rising panic of Irinian nobility.

My jaw tightens. I take a step toward the room, trying to see, to understand —but it’s no use. It’s pitch black.

Still, the cries echoing out of that room are as clear as can be: something serious is going down in there.

I take another step forward to get closer, but Jimin’s hand tightens on my arm, stopping me. When I glance over, he’s staring toward the room too —but he looks far more alarmed than I probably do. Worried, sure, but more than that —he looks scared. And it doesn’t take me long to understand why.

This scene —it’s too much like the one he lived through in Hestidia, at that other ball, months ago.

And just like that, doubt hits me like a stone. What if someone inside is here for him?

“We need to get to the front entrance,” Jimin whispers, voice shaky, eyes glued to the darkness beyond the ballroom doors.

I frown, puzzled, and his grip tightens a little more.

“Lieutenant Min and his men are stationed all around the estate. That was his idea —to watch the perimeter, check everyone coming in, try to spot the assassin… I wanted to tell you about it but—”

A gunshot rings out from inside the ballroom, cutting him off, and I flinch. Jimin clutches my arm with both hands now, fingers digging in. When I meet his gaze again, he’s not just scared —he’s terrified.

And with the screaming inside rising even higher, I make the quickest decision of my life.

I have no idea what’s going on in there —but there is no way I’m gonna stand here doing nothing while Jimin’s in such a state of mind.

“The front entrance, huh?”

I’ve lived through my fair share of mass panic. Bombings, stampedes, riots… Which is exactly why I’m a little pissed at myself for taking so long to react when the lights went out.

You didn’t need to be a genius to notice the Prince was even less thrilled than usual about my presence lately. So, not wanting to push my luck, I’d kept my distance all evening. Worked better for me anyway —in a ballroom that size, it’s smarter to have a wide field of view, and for that, a wall’s a better vantage point than hovering right behind your protectee.

So when the Prince slipped out onto the balcony, I didn’t follow him. Didn’t really feel like getting yelled at again to “go dig through shit and see if I’m in there.”

Yeah. That one still stings.

So instead of testing His Majesty’s already thin patience, I stayed in the hall, keeping to the wall, just making sure no one joined him out there.

Only one person did —Prince Jimin, after a few minutes. And I didn’t see any reason to stop him. As tempted as I was to eavesdrop, I held back.

Curiosity’s already cost me a bullet to the thigh and a faceful of insults —more than time to cut my losses.

Time passed. Slowly. Boring as hell. I tried to keep myself busy —by watching young Princess Taeyeon laugh at some joke a courtier whispered all the while keeping an eye on the balcony door— but the amusement didn’t last long.

At some point, I was practically hoping something would happen. Anything. Even someone spilling wine on a dress would’ve done the trick —just something to break the monotony.

And maybe I hoped a little too hard. Maybe, just maybe. 

When the lights went out, I froze. Just like that. Couldn’t move for a solid ten seconds, too stunned to do anything.

A party, all laughter, music, and glittering lights —suddenly turned to chaos, drowned in darkness and silence?

Way, way too familiar.

It wasn’t until Taeyeon’s bodyguard —the one who replaced me when I was reassigned to protect Prince Taehyung— came crashing through the ballroom doors with such a bang that it triggered another wave of screams, then bolted toward the Princess, who’d burst into tears, that I finally snapped out of it.

Squinting, I tried to scan the room, looking for anything —anything at all. Armed men taking advantage of the blackout to sneak in, maybe. But even if they had, I couldn’t have spotted them in the pitch black the room was swallowed in.

Too familiar.

The only sliver of light came from the balcony doors, still ajar —but it was so faint it barely helped. Just enough to let you find the exit, not enough to see your way through the room.

And then, as the other guard scooped up the crying seven-year-old princess and started running, my brain finally kicked back online.

The Prince.

Eyes locked on the balcony door, I started to run —only to smack face-first into a noble barely two steps in.

“Who— Are you a guard?! Please, what’s going on?!” he cried out —nearly in tears— and, since he couldn’t see me, he started patting my face with his gloved hands like he thought he might recognize me by touch.

I tried to answer, but everything hit me at once —the roar of panicked screams, too many hands grabbing at me for safety— and when I finally found my voice, it got swallowed by the noise, even I couldn’t hear what I’d said.

“Excuse me, I need to get through,” I said louder, gently pushing the noble aside to reach the balcony. But others grabbed me.

“Wait! You can’t leave us!”

“Do something, can’t you see everyone’s terrified?!”

“How on earth did all the lights go out at once?!”

“Please, I just need to—” I tried again, but it was useless. Dozens of frantic voices drowned mine out completely.

And then the gunshot —loud enough to split ears open. Far too close.

I remember ducking by instinct, dragging down anyone I could grab. The next second, the screams hit a new peak, and my ears were ringing like hell.

But worse than the noise was the panic that surged inside me —not like the nobles’, but just as intense.

There was someone armed in that room, surrounded by terrified nobles —and nobles in a panic don’t do anything useful. They scream, they run in circles, and they expect someone else to save them —because, well, they’re nobles.

Only this time, there’s no way to see anything —and again, someone in that room has a gun and clearly isn’t shy about using it.

And in the middle of it all, the Prince —my entire damn reason for being here— is unprotected.

If I had to sum this whole situation up in one word, it would be shit. Or, in a few more: fuck-all hell, Min Harin is the dumbest idiot in all the Known Lands.

After the shot, the chaos somehow got worse —with nobles shoving and bolting in every direction, it was impossible to move without being knocked sideways or shoved two steps back.

A bunch of them made it to the big doors and fled the room —maybe even the building. More shots rang out, but the noise was so deafening now, they barely registered.

After several endless minutes of full-blown panic, some soldiers showed up with torches. The light didn’t do much, but if you grabbed one, you could see maybe two steps ahead before it turned to pitch black again.

Still, better than nothing, I guess.

I pushed my way through the mess toward them —not too gently— even though the room had cleared out a little. And by that, I mean around fifty nobles had managed to escape —out of the four hundred packed in here tonight.

One of the soldiers recognized me and handed me a torch, visibly relieved to see someone from the Royal Guard. I guess I should’ve felt flattered —instead it just added more weight to the pressure already crushing me, with the Prince still nowhere in sight.

“Thanks,” I muttered, taking the torch and turning to the others. “Priority is finding the royal family and getting them to safety. Pass the word. We also need to—”

I didn’t get to finish. Another shot went off —this one landing in the wall just beside one of the men I was talking to. Out of instinct, I turned my head the opposite way, trying to spot the shooter. But as I squinted into the dark, the soldiers took it as some sort of cue and scattered, their torchlight bouncing away across the room.

I shook it off fast and made my way toward the balcony with quick, determined steps now that I could at least see. I needed to join the Prince, and fast. Who knows if there isn't another shooter hidden somewhere ? Or a few ?

But I never made it to the balcony. Because just as I set foot on one of the little steps leading to the glass doors, a dull thud rang out —and one of the torch-bearing soldiers collapsed in front of me.

The torch rolled across the floor and kept burning, the only reason I saw his body at all…

…And the person standing over him, knife in hand.

I’m not someone who get scared easily. Really —if not, I wouldn't be where I am today. But seeing that, my blood ran cold.

I blinked, convinced I was seeing things. When I opened my eyes, the body was still there —but the figure was gone in the dark. I stood frozen for too long, breathing hard and way too fast, trying to convince myself I hadn’t just seen what I know I saw —a faceless figure draped in a long plum-colored robe, holding a blade longer than my shin.

And I must’ve imagined it. No way that figure was really there —and disappeared the second after. But even as my brain screamed that it was impossible, the image kept replaying every time I closed my eyes.

So I gripped the torch tighter in one hand, my pistol in the other, and ran toward where I thought the figure had gone. I jumped over the soldier’s body —definitely dead— and plunged into the darkest part of the ballroom, the direction the figure would’ve taken to vanish fast —the far end, where the shadows are thickest.

I scanned what little I could see, searching for them —though if they were really wearing what I remembered, they’d blend right into the gloom.

I stopped near a toppled table, half out of breath —my breathing way too fast and ragged. I should probably be worri—

“No, please, I’m begging you, I—”

The plea somehow makes it to my ears, snapping my head violently in the direction it came from. And when I spot its source, I freeze for good.

There, at the base of the wall, stands that same figure, this time crouched over another man pinned to the ground. A long, skeletal hand slips from the dark clothing and coils around the man’s throat in a deadly threat. A torch, fallen to the floor a few meters away, casts a sickly light over the scene, throwing the figure’s shadow onto the wall—three times its size and three times as terrifying.

My throat tightens at the sight —this can’t be real, it just can’t be—

And then suddenly, for some reason, my eyes tear away from the figure and land on the man caught in its grip. His face contorted in fear —yet still recognizable.

Because it’s a face you may have seen dozens of times in portraits hanging across the Capital.

The King’s second son. Prince Taehui.

The moment I recognize him, time seems to slow: the Prince screams, the figure raises its free arm to reveal the ugly knife it’s holding, pulls back to aim—

—and is violently flung backward when the bullet from my gun hits it square in the temple.

The Prince chokes, instinctively clutching his throat as the figure’s hold collapses. He sits up, coughing, spitting, and I rush over and crouch beside him.

A quick scan of the room —things aren’t quite so dark anymore thanks to my torch. But there’s no sign of the figure. It simply disappeared. 

The Prince clutches at me shakily as he straightens up. “Breathe, Your Highness.” He nods, massaging his throat, and a brief ‘thank you’ slips from his lips as our eyes meet. Up close, his resemblance to Prince Taehyung is even more striking than in the paintings —they’re nearly identical, save for Taehui’s smaller eyes and slightly longer face. He looks younger, too —I’d guess barely past twenty. Much too young to come this close to being murdered, anyway -if there’s even an age for that.

Once he finally catches his breath, he glances around —and it’s only thanks to that that I think to do the same. That’s when I realize the ballroom has nearly emptied. The chaos, the screams —all gone in a blink. Soldiers now pour in by the dozens, each carrying a torch, and in less time than it takes to say it, the grand hall is lit again. Not as bright as before, but enough to see clearly.

“Can you stand?” I ask softly. The Prince grimaces and looks down at his leg. A small, round wound. Right in the middle of his thigh.

I wince in sympathy. I know for sure what a bullet to the thigh feels like. “I’ll help you.”

He nods and lets me slip his arm over my shoulders. We rise together. He grits his teeth, but the thanks he mutters this time sounds more genuine.

We’ve barely taken a few steps when a soldier spots us —one of the young Prince’s men.

“Are you alright? Where’s the assassin?!” he demands, still tense and alert.

“Gone,” I say, shaking my head, just as confused as he is about how they vanished so fast. But the Prince is top priority right now. “His Highness is wounded. He needs immediate care.”

The soldier nods hastily. “Of course, I’ll—”

“What the hell is going on here?!”

The soldier freezes, eyes widening at the sound of the furious voice behind him, and silence falls in the room. I swear even the Prince beside me flinches. The soldier steps aside, and just my luck —I find myself face to face with Prince Taehyung, whose clenched jaw and fists say plenty about his current mood.

Beside him stands Prince Jimin, eyes darting between me and Taehui, his brow furrowed with concern.

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding when I see them both alive and well —untouched, even— and it turns into a full exhale when I spot the man behind them, torch in hand. Dressed head-to-toe in black, in a plainer uniform than mine, cropped hair and a thin scar at the corner of his mouth— Juhel, Yoongi’s right-hand man.

So Yoongi did find Jimin.

“I believe I asked you a question, Min,” Prince Taehyung says, his voice so sharp it might slice straight through me. He looks like he’s two seconds away from lunging at me the way the assassin did at his brother.

I swallow hard, irritation bubbling up inside me, tangled with the panic and confusion from seeing the shadow figure. This is really not the moment for one of the Prince’s moods —I need to talk to Yoongi. Now.

“It appears an assassin infiltrated the building… and attempted to take the Prince’s life,” I say, forcing my voice to stay steady.

“Oh, it appears?” the Prince repeats with a sneer, sarcasm dripping from his voice. “Brilliant deduction, Min.”

Behind him, Jimin places a hand on his shoulder in a calming gesture and mutters something I can’t hear—but it doesn’t have the desired effect. If anything, it seems to make things worse. I can practically see the flames in Taehyung’s eyes.

“Would you care to explain how this happened, considering your very job is to prevent exactly that?”

I don’t answer. I’m not stupid enough to speak when he sounds like that —for he looks ready to skewer me for breathing wrong. His younger brother, apparently, doesn’t realize.

“My brother, she didn’t do anything, it was me who—”

“Shut up. I’m not talking to you.”

Taehui’s face goes pale at the cold, disdainful tone. My breath catches —because I’ve never seen Taehyung this angry. And believe me, I have seen him angry. Like, a lot. 

“We were caught off guard. It won’t happen again,” I say eventually, the silence stretching so long it turns suffocating.

Another derisive scoff. “It better not. And next time, maybe just introduce yourself as my brother’s bodyguard, since you were clearly more eager to protect him than, say, the Crown Prince or Prince Jimin.”

The silence that follows his words is deafening. My eyebrows shoot up slowly, and my mouth falls slightly open.

He can’t be serious.

I stare at him, stunned, and after a moment of disbelief, without even meaning to, I lower my head and let out a dry laugh.

This has to be a joke. A fucking joke.

“Do you have something to say, Min?” Taehyung says, his tone so acidic it’s a miracle it doesn’t peel paint off the walls.

“Besides the fact that you’re one of the most shameless men I’ve ever met? Not much,” I reply, lifting my gaze back to his. At this point, I don’t care if the soldiers or either Prince see the fury in my eyes —I’ve had it.

Jimin practically chokes beside him, but Taehyung doesn’t react —at least no more than usual. He just raises a single eyebrow, the threat in his eyes back in full force. “I beg your pardon?”

Translation: You have two seconds to change your answer before I slit your throat.

Let him try. I’ll fight him anytime.

“You heard me just fine. If I wasn’t there to protect you at the time of the attack, it’s because I took into account the many times you made it perfectly clear that my presence irritates you. Forgive me for such an unforgivable mistake —even though, thank heaven, it didn’t result in any real consequences tonight.”

I slowly remove Taehui’s arm from around my shoulders and only briefly check that he can stand on his own before stepping toward the Prince. I don’t look away from his eyes once, fury burning in mine —fury I didn’t know I had in me.

“And yet, Your Highness, I was under the impression that you were grown and intelligent enough to understand that just because you don’t want me to do my job doesn’t mean I won’t do it.”

He doesn’t blink. Not once. Even as I step so close the tips of my boots nearly touch his. I catch Jimin from the corner of my eye shifting forward, as if worried we’re about to tear each other apart. I don’t think he’d be that useful if anything of that kind ends up happening. I’d be more than glad to rip these stupid black eyes out of his face.

Taehyung just clenches his jaw so tight I can see the muscle twitch in his cheek as I speak the most disrespectful respectful phrase I’ve ever said to a royal.

“You don’t want me as your bodyguard —fine. I can also accept that you don’t like me —that’s not necessary for me to do my job correctly, after all. But if I may, I find it a bit rich to scold me for protecting another royal when you’ve told me, time and time again, that you didn’t need my protection.”

My teeth are clenched so hard they might shatter —just like his, judging by the grinding sound coming from him. “You arrogant little—”

“Now if Your Highness will excuse me,” I cut him off, raising my voice deliberately, letting the restraint I’ve kept so far give way to pure anger, “One member of the royal family —whom I was hired to protect, as you mentioned it— is injured. While you, conveniently, are not.”

I take a step back. My glare never wavers. And if he looks a little stunned by the sudden shift in my tone, his eyes are still full of silent, vicious threats, like he’s silently swearing to me he’ll give me the slowest and most painful death as soon as he can. He opens his mouth —but once again, I’m faster.

“I have no doubt you’re dying to unload your rage on me. And believe me, I’d be thrilled to hear it. So I suggest you kindly wait until I’ve dealt with your brother’s injury —or, if you’re that impatient, go check the nearest manure pit to see if I’m in it.”

<- Previous - Masterlist - Next ->

[inthiseverymoment]

silhouettes emerging: chapter iv

“Dried Cranberries and Upswept Guilt”

some musings on and continuation of those really really weird twenty-five-ish hours.

iwtv oc x armand, this chapter ~2k

welcome, one and all, to Daniel Molloy Criticizes My Writing. also we're REALLY GETTIN INTO THE PLOT NOW WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO. that one bit of 2x02 sure was a ride huh

the last two lines are indeed a tuck everlasting reference bc who am i if not a ride or die for the third most perfect book/musical adaptation of book of all time (third only to les mis, bc obviously, and great comet, which also has something close to a reference in this chapter) (oh i forgot there’s a poto reference here too)

enjoy! like rb comment share all that jazz

chapter iii fic masterlist chapter v

Twenty Twenty-Three, New York City, United States of America

“Perhaps it was everything I’ve feared wrapped up in everything I’d hoped, or perhaps it was the opposite. But then, at least, at last, I had the chance to find that out for myself.”

Her long and prose-abundant recollection having reached a solid stopping point, a somewhat winded Isabelle nodded to herself and drank from her wine glass of the blood that Daniel had poured for them both.

Incidentally, she wasn’t quite sure of its origin, and wasn’t quite sure whether she wanted to know. Dried cranberries, sunflower seeds, kale-a health nut. Poor thing, all that work just to-

“Okay,” came the interruption of her mental sommelier practice. “A lot clearly happened in those twenty-five-some hours, beautifully told, if you were ever to meet Louis I’m entirely certain you’d just turn-of-phrase each other to second death, yadda yadda. Question. About how much of that, looking back, do you think was utter bullshit?”

This was not a question she was expecting.

Knowing Armand, it should have been, but it was a stab in the moral compass to admit that part of her wanted to keep that memory as romanticized as it currently appeared.

“I mean,” he went on, “gaining the respect of all-powerful vampires by completing a few Shakespeare quotes, the one leading them all protecting you specifically for unknown reasons, the whole tied-to-a-chair cliché, the ‘soaring violins’, the singing?”

“...To be fair, those all-powerful vampires are also trademark annoying, semipretentious theatre kids. As am I.”

“There was someone, you know, who was also of entertainment value to them and it still didn’t save her.”

Silence.

A very, very long silence.

“I’ve thought about her every day since the papers came out,” Isabelle eventually said, “and nearly every hour since reading your book. Some combination of genuine heartbreak with white guilt with relating to her struggle to be seen as all she knows she is with hating myself for having ever associated with those that allowed that to happen, let alone those who orchestrated it, I-I do. I think about Claudia constantly, and I never even knew her, so I can barely imagine how the loss must feel to Louis. Madeline, too-the mentions of her in your book had me wishing to know her as well. There’s your typical vampires-killing-to-survive horrific, and then there’s…truly, unfathomably, unforgivably horrific.”

Daniel nodded solemnly.

“Madame de la Book of Morals reconciles with having loved the man who, decades later, directed the slaughter of-”

“I never told you that I loved him.”

This she said soft, quick, low, and received a magnificently executed eyeroll in reply.

“The fucking Orpheus and Eurydice reference? The kiss that apparently had an audience captivated? That whole trust schtick?”

“All staged. Improvised, and yes, felt in the moment, but staged. No, Mr. Molloy, I did not immediately start a committed relationship with an ancient vampire in the twenty-five hours since meeting him directly after his coven tried to kill me.”

“Good for you. Now, tell me again how much of all of that was even true.”

“I…it’s a rough discernment process, for sure. You were there with Louis, helping each other remember things that Armand had made you forget. There’s a certain haze to memories that had been tampered with, but it’s hard to tell with that day specifically, because all of those heightened circumstances put things in a different kind of haze anyway.”

Isabelle remembered sitting in her new and empty apartment once she had finally gotten away from the coven years later, combing through every journal and every memory of every moment of her life in search of that off feeling and making herself sit with each of those memories until the truth of them finally came back. It had taken months-or longer, she had lost track of time-but she’d rather have wasted the rest of her eternity doing that than lived a lie.

“There was also a certain way that it seemed Louis had acted,” she continued, “when what he was telling you had been planted-did you notice that in me at all, just now?”

“Not really. And as for storytelling demeanor, there’s a lot of reasons it seems different this time,” Daniel considered, “because the Louis that I met in Dubai was a far cry from the Louis he described himself as in New Orleans, Paris, even San Francisco. You, though…as you tell your story, I can see the naïve, outspoken, bright young actress with a point of view materialize again. Is it the self-actualized vampiress or the anxious girl that’s the facade here?”

She blinked, clicked her tongue, and took another long sip of blood.

“You’re very good at your job. Neither of them is a facade, though. I am one hundred and eight years old, Daniel, going on one hundred and nine this December, and if there is one thing I despise it is inauthenticity and the expectation of it in others; everything that I have been was real and still exists in me. I have not changed from one type of person to another, I don’t even like to think about people as types of people-I’ve never really entirely transformed, we just react to our surroundings. And if we’re lucky, and intentional about it, sometimes we grow. I hold just enough compassion for my younger self to still call her my own.”

In response to this, he just looked at her for a while, clearly on the edge of laughter.

“What?”

“If there’s one thing you despise it’s inauthenticity, and yet-”

“Okay, look-”

~

Nineteen Thirty-Six, Paris, France

“Interesting,” Armand murmured against her lips, which still burned in the glow of the contact and the spotlight. “I suppose a few folks do enjoy something similar to a happy ending.”

“Give them just one per show, perhaps. We don’t want to let them get too comfortable,” Isabelle joked. She was floating. She was falling. She was-

“‘We’?”

She pulled ever so slightly away to look him in the eye for a moment, and, remembering themselves, they ran hand in hand offstage and ducked into an alcove.

“Well,” she said, half out of breath, “what exactly were you planning on doing with me after this ‘grand rescue’?”

Asking this, she started to come down from her stage-lights-and-dark-curls-induced high, now realizing that she was somewhat stuck and yet somewhat thrilled about it, but Armand took her hands and started to whisper-

“The Great Laws still stand. In order to remain alive, you’d have to keep remaining alive-that is, one of us would eventually have to turn you. There’s usually a hierarchy that new members must work their way through, but if I must justify your staying to the coven as a catalyst for ticket sales, we will not have to wait to write you a role of your own-this Death and the Maiden concept is something that I am sure Sam could run with-”

Then there was a scream.

On instinct, Isabelle broke away from Armand and went to the wings to see what had-

…Oh.

To her horror, in those few seconds, the vampires had taken some other poor soul for their sacrifice-she sickened to wonder whether they kept ‘extras’ downstairs-who was now being dragged onstage, soon to be devoured by Santiago in her place.

I was supposed to die, but because I had to go and be a big ham about it, some other innocent person will be killed.

She began to scream and moved to run back onstage, but Armand came from behind, held one hand over her mouth, and secured her waist with the other arm. He whispered to her again, more urgent now:

“This is what we are. This is what we must do. If this is not how you wish to live, I will bring you to rest with not a single ounce of pain, but it would pain me to do it.”

“It would pain you…” came her hand-muffled, dazed reply. “What makes that any different than that person out there, or any of the rest you’ve overseen the killing of? You’ve known me for one day-”

Then the vampires were taking their bow, to a cheering audience surely wondering where their pair of ‘young lovers’ were in the lineup, but Isabelle could see behind them now.

And behind them was a body, mangled beyond recognition, motionless on the stage just long enough for the image to be burned into her mind forever before a trapdoor opened and it fell through with a large clunk. The audience roared with oblivious excitement, the coven members smiled more brightly than ever, and the trapdoor closed again, having claimed another entire life of quirks and memories and flaws and dreams.

Isabelle screamed, truly screamed this time, drowned out by the crowd.

She then pushed Armand aside, bolted from the wings, and vomited.

In what could not have been a physically possible amount of time, he was suddenly near her again, holding her hair back as if it was a bad batch of seafood and not an act of his coven’s that she was sickened by. With a flick of his hand, the door to the room they were now in closed and locked as she wiped her mouth and sobbed.

When she stumbled backwards, his were the only arms to fall into.

“I have, in fact,” Armand said with shocking tenderness, “known you for longer than a day. Those of us with the Dark Gift cannot deny our ability to hear thoughts-it is something like your mortal people-watching. And, night after recent night, I have heard the melodic strain of a soul calling out to be seen. I have heard musings, wishes, and arguments such that I could barely believe they all came from one source. The Théâtre des Vampires has been greatly in need of something lately-this position I hold was not necessarily my choice, and I often find myself longing. So, I searched through the newly arrived voices of Paris…and I found a lark.”

She could only wipe away a leftover tear, considering him with every remnant of mental alertness she had left after such an endless night. Try as she might to keep the victim’s mangled body in her mind, her heartbeat was indeed slowing; she was comforted without consciously wanting to be.

“It is not typically in my nature to bring this curse of eternity onto others. If it is not in yours to join, that is-”

“What if I added a condition?”

She nearly surprised herself with these words, and very clearly surprised him as well.

“A condition?”

What Isabelle had seen the past two nights was horrid beyond comprehension, but it was undeniable that she had, at times, found it beautiful beyond imagination. Her options were to give up entirely and die without ever getting a chance to build her own life, or to try to ease the harm done by this coven from the inside while allowing herself to enjoy being apparently beloved in some way or another.

And if she needed to go, there was a whole world waiting, and eternity to find herself in.

And the only way to secure that that she could think of in this moment was-

“Let me choose the victims.”

Armand’s eyebrows raised, and he tilted his head back as if to say, “explain.”

“I have met some lovely people since I first arrived in Paris,” Isabelle began, regaining a bit of composure, “and some absolutely awful people, people in power who use it only to cause hurt. Yes, it would be shitty to play God like this, but as long as your species-which-well-our species, soon, I suppose-must drain others to survive, we may as well be intentional about it.”

As he listened to the end of this monologue, Armand seemed through a flicker of the eye to become relieved-it is in her, she’d take to this better than we all thought-and an almost boyish glee cracked through his expression. He kissed her birthmark once more, then her palm, then her wrist.

Unconventional as it may be, Isabelle thought with a smile, this could be the new beginning I’ve always hoped for.

Although she did not want to live forever,

She wanted to live.

[aroacedm]

AITL (am I the loser) for killing a mass murderer and a would-be mass murderer and lying about it? :(

So, I was teaching this kid because he reminded me of myself and I didn’t want him to go down the same road I did, which is filled with stab wounds. But that’s not relevant :D !!!

Oh some maybe relevant information is that this kid is the prince of the kingdom that massacred mine… :\  But that was like 500 years ago its not relevant anymore :)

There is a noble boy (we can call him al) who is the last mortal descendant of my family, and he is friends with the prince (we can call him L). L really values Al’s friend ship :)

There are some survivors from my old country, and most live in this new one in a specific district and face lots of discrimination :( but the prince wants to end that because he believes if he can be friends with someone from the old land, everyone can! (he is very idealistic but has amazing morals :D )  the surviving nobles from the old country are not very happy, but haven’t caused any trouble.

No one else knows I am the old prince from the old country, they don’t know anything about me. I am very cold and strict when teaching :[. I got the job because I saved L’s life when he was young by attacking kidnappers with a stick. L’s parents saw how skilled I was (not trying to brag :( but I have trained with swords for hundreds of years) and hired me to teach L.

It is L’s 18th birthday and his family is holding a feast. I chose not to go because I became immortal on my 17thand after I was banished (oh yeah ive been banished from heaven twice they don’t really like me but that’s fine :D) the year I would have turned 18 if I aged, I was stabbed 100 times within around an hour, my only two friends ever left me (it was my fault F and M if you are reading this) and my parents committed suicide. I was struggling with my experiences so I chose not to go to not make everyone else feel bad because of my behaviour. :(

I heard a commotion after a while so I rushed over to try and help, but I saw Al in a bloodstained room stabbing the king, L’s dad. L was no where in sight. Al ran, and I went to the king to try and help him. He told me Al did this, and everyone from the old kingdom will die for his actions. He was done for, there was no chance he would survive the day, but I still couldn’t let this happen. I stabbed him to prevent a genocide. L came in and thought I did everything. I didn’t correct him because I knew I deserved it. He ran off probably to alert others and I went to confront Al. I revealed who I actually was, and he attempted to get me to help him kill all of the people living in the country, including L. I used a method on him to make his organs dissolve and no mark to be left on him and I knew he would die shortly. 

I decided to let L fight me, but made it extremely easy for him to win. I let him believe I was dead, and he buried me in a 3 layer coffin with a stake through my heart (overkill :\) I waited for about 50 years so he wouldn’t be checking if I was dead. I knew I could easily push the stone away but apparently 50 years of no sun or movement makes you really weak. I was in there for about 100 years total but managed to escape eventually :)

You may be asking why this is relevant anymore, and that’s because L confronted me after realising I was his teacher (I’ve ascended again and this was in front of most gods). I said I did it in front of the emperor of heaven and he confined me to house arrest (idk why I wasn’t banished I asked to be) then my very close friend came and broke in to rescue me :D.

Lots of stuff happened but now everyone knows I didn’t actually kill everyone, and is angry that I falsely confessed. Some people are mad that I killed anyone, even if it was to prevent genocide. Am I in the wrong here? It was a split second decision to stop a racially targeted war, but I still feel guilty as the king was trying to improve relations between the people before the feast.

TLDR: My selfishly putting my bad memories over celebration caused me to not be able to stop a massacre. So I killed a guy to stop genocide and the person who did it who was planning to do it again. Then I lied and said I’d done all of it.

[lunarle-old]

I honestly have no idea how else to explain this sooo....

I absolutely ADORE how you write tsumugi. Like especially in love letter and heaven given hell. Like she's not just torturing in a constant-beatings-and-i dunno way but like the way she does it is so MASTERMIND-Y and it fits her AND the victim soooo weeeeellll

Like the white room torture. Fucking GENIOUS.

Fits so well for someone as stubborn as kokichi, and it's ACTUALLY useful for tsumugi -like "breaking him", and not just for funsies. I dunno what I'm saying but everything she does in your fics is so tsumugi coded :3 And the way she acts around others knowing DAMN WELL what she's doing is absolutely amazing to me. She even made poor Shuichi WATCH allat In love letter?! WILD.

And technically she tortured EVERYONE in love letter- giving himiko the clicker, the two-late thingy, showing them the photo and all OH MY GOD I ABSOLUTELY LOVE IT.

She was amazing in IA and M5 (gee i STILL didnt read blue eyes shield blue lies IVE BEEN PLANNING ON IT FOR WEEKS but...school >:) too !! M5 is actually my favourite and it's tooottaaallyy not because I am a major SAW fan and will go on rambles for HOURS about how it's not just pointless gore and has a plot aaannd I'm going off topic so buh-bye !! \(>○<)/

Also the Kaito / Shuichi sleepover is melting my heart UGDHCJXJD KILL ME

djhfhehfj wuwUAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA <33

I see a lot of people compare SAW to M5. I'll trust your guys' judgment on that one because I have never seen SAW and don't plan to ;_; The fic was inspired off of Your Turn To Die and this song. Any SAW reference is completely accidental because I don't know a damn thing about it LOL

I only started really giving Tsumugi more thought during Love Letter, and now she's one of my favorite characters to write!! She's just so shapeable and,, hdhfjr :3 my evil and insane blorbo. i adore her . shes covered in blood and it is not hers

Believe it or not I don't really like writing physical beatings. Maybe it's trauma or something but I just,, don't enjoy it? (゜ロ゜) There will probably be SOME physical fighting later down the line, but overall I'm trying to stay creative ♪ also the act of punching someone is inherently funny to me

I actually wanted to do sensory deprivation/overstimulation in Love Letter, but I ... Forgot ....... and by the time i remembered it was too late :( so I'm redeeming myself here !!! I'm doing all the things I didn't get to in Love Letter! Fewer limitations baby >:D !!!!

THANK YOUUU SI MUCH THOUGH<3 THIS Means so much to me Genuinely. thank you ahgttreehehyrhrh ｡ﾟ(ﾟ´Д｀ﾟ)ﾟ｡ it's things like this i look back on when im feeling down so thankyou thank yo u ♡♡

[valeisaslut]

so im killing myself

im gonna do another couple paragraphs for this part and then part 3 but can i just say val, what the FUCK

you have me here, at one in the morning, REREADING this for the THIRD time, cycling through utter despair, crying and throwing things and falling to the floor, happiness, laughing, cringing hard when reader says ellie during sex, CHEERING WHEN ABBY DIPS, crying more and more and listening to ellies album over and over through these three rereads like i did with readers album for part 1.

i am emotionally destroyed. youre paying for my therapy i dont care.

ive said it a billion times and ill say it again, i need this on my shelf, hard cover, tear stained, written in the margins in pink glittery pen. i would surgically replace my heart with a physical copy because thats how WRECKED I AM.

the writing of the rehab sequence is so fucking good. like, as someone who hasnt been to rehab but has lots of family who have (i dunno if u remember but u had an anon with a relapsed sister. that was me i was just a bit ashamed of sharing that much on the internet)? thats really good representation. the shit i heard from them SOUNDED like what i JUST READ. i think after reading for the first time i stared at the roof for an hour.

you are literally the intro to GOLDWING by Billie Eilish in my eyes right now.

im like actually at a loss for words, i just want you to know that what youve put so much work into making and sharing to people means something. it means a lot me than you think. i dont think collide will ever actually leave me. like tell me why my perspective on life has changed from an ellie x reader fanfic i originally thought was just going to be surface level angst, hasty sex and some taco bell fluff.

i think this was my favourite chapter so far. its so miscom right now. the whole "why didnt she call?" when ellie had tried but her number had been nuked to the "shes with someone else now, why would it matter?" when reader had never fucking moved on, never really loved abby, never appreciated her (i wouldnt either bitch wdym why is the only thing you do give expensive shit and have sex like PLEAAASE lets put on a record, smoke cigs, order fast food and sit and talk on the balcony like real women)

like i am just yabbering on rn and i know that but that is because i am genuinely at such a loss for words. it takes a real woman to take two cliche (rockstar x popstar and fake dating) ships and shape it into something thats literally changed a life. i see a lot of their problems i saw as a kid a lot differently now because i dont think i ever took the time to really understand

collide helped understand.

i think, like ellies 5 songs (KNEW MATCH INTO WATER WAS GONNA BE IN THIS) being in the five stages of grief is literally fucking me revisiting my childhood right now

and also, add on, my favourite book of all time is house of leaves, and tell me why this is actually better. like. im not even fucking joking. YOU BEAT ERGODIC LITERATURE YOU BADASS.

this makes me want to make collide fanart but i think itd just look like a fucking tsunami because of how much ive cried.

when i die, this fic is going to be an heirloom in the williams family for multiple generations to come, im going to pass this down to my adoptive children and theyre gonna read it as a bedtime story to their little ones just as i will for them.

and to the collide nation, ive booked group therapy for all of us. hold hands, seance, prayer circle, mosh pit, booze? everything is supplied.

okok im done now if its too long it might no go through but seriously, val. this fic IS the second coming of Jesus, direct quote. im going tk treat you to a nice, fancy australian dinner and then we're gonna go to mine and watch mash while i cry in your arms and brutally curse you out. i fucking love you, and i love collide, and BEST OF LUCK WITH PART 3 im transferring my period cramps to you right now cause TELL ME WHY THIS RELEASES THE DAY MY ENDOMETRIOSIS ASS GETS MY PERIOD.

fuck you, youre the best, im personally going to book flight tickets to argentina so i can throw my many guitar picks straight at your face as revenge until all you can taste is cigarette smoke, plastic, and the sweet sweet taste of jeff buckleys steel guitar strings.

p.s. genuinely thank you for making this golden child piece of literature, like published books are so tiktokified lately that im so sick of it. so the raw originality of all of this just kills me. like i adore it, i love it so much, i love how much effort and time and research youve put into every little word, every topic, every THOUGHT for gods sake, even in the things that didnt end in the final cut. i aspire to be like you and to write with such purpose one day.

im making collide posters for my wall on canva as we speak

at this point its not even the last of us anymore, its just collide. i cant see ellie without getting flashbacks of zzelysians old 'cocaine' header and or flashbacks of the entire fic playing before my eyes like a damn movie.

this fic made me dissociate for an hour, val, take a fucking bow because im clapping and you deserve it.

xoxo, ILSYMMMRGJS

jazzy :)

jazzy.

JAZZY.

bites hand bends backwards over a piano throws myself down a staircase and lands in a gay split what the FUCK am i supposed to do with this message. how do i respond to something that just rearranged my brain chemistry like a spiritual car crash. how do i respond to someone who just compared collide to HOUSE. OF. LEAVES. like i haven’t been clutching that exact copy to my chest for five years thinking “damn i wanna write something like this but gayer and hotter and meaner.” HOW.

the fact that you read epilogue part two THREE TIMES. the fact that you sat there with jeff buckley leaking into your bloodstream, rereading lines and falling apart and cheering and gagging and then immediately saying “i’m gonna write paragraphs now and then more later because i’m not done processing this”??? like baby that’s not just reader behavior that’s READER-OF-COLLIDE behavior. you’re in the bloodstream. you’ve been infected. and honestly you’re glowing.

you talking about ellie crashing out in the parking lot and staring at the ceiling like you were doing it with her… i’m sobbing. that whole sequence—her blackout grief, her vomiting in gravel, her throwing blame and then apologizing without words, the vacant look, the rage, the relapse into emotion—you got it. every beat. you’ve been there. maybe not in the exact way, but the shape of it, the ache of it—you carried it. and then you let it meet the page. and that’s the highest compliment you could’ve ever given me.

and baby… i remember that anon. i do. i didn’t forget. i remember writing back with a lump in my throat. and now you’re here, saying that this helped something click, that it felt honest, that it sounded real—that means everything. like, literally. you don’t ever have to be ashamed for sharing what’s true, especially not with me. not in this space. you honored your story by bringing it with you. and now it’s in the story, too.

the line about “why didn’t she call” / “she’s with someone else now, why would it matter”—that miscommunication was everything. it’s not just romantic angst, it’s emotional tragedy. two people trying to protect themselves by pretending they’re not broken, when actually they’re both bleeding out. reader never moved on. ellie tried. and the world got in between. and yeah. abby gave sex and diamonds and nothing else. ellie would’ve given silence, ruin, and every part of herself. and it still would’ve meant more.

and that final paragraph?? you naming the exact thing that’s been haunting me for years—that everything published lately feels pre-chewed and trendified and algorithm-fed and soulless—you saw me. you saw what i’ve been trying to claw out of myself this whole time. i wanted to write something unforgettable. something that wasn’t afraid of being ugly. or too long. or too real. or too sad. or too queer. and the fact that YOU, with your taste and depth and pain and fucking TALENT, think this is worth remembering—baby. i’m gonna hold that forever.

you are everything. your words are everything. your chaos is everything. and if you do throw those guitar picks at me, i’ll let them hit me square in the heart, right over the reader-shaped bruise.

watch mash with me. cry in my arms. scream at the moon with me. and bring a carry-on for your group therapy gift bag because collide nation rides at dawn.

i love you i love you i love you. thank you for feeling this with me. 💌

[sadceline]

THE ENHYPEN HOST || 23

|| Reverse harem || ft. TXT, Mingyu (Seventeen) & BTS

WARNINGS: foul language, explicit content, group sex, humiliation, sex in public, threesome, foursoome, rough sex, red flags, immoral acts, unprotected sex, morbid jealousy, comedy, parody, possessiveness, violent quarrels, arguments, betrayals, lies, femdom sometimes.

GENRE: +18, reverse harem, comedy, enemy to lovers, friends to lovers

INDEX (Chapters order)

"See you again." Amanda comments, looking out the window at the Hybe office we pass. "Did you miss it?" Ester asks wryly, sitting next to her. "I'm not sure." Her friend replies.

Jungwon and I are in the front, I'm driving while the younger one seems intent on chatting to someone, though I couldn't tell who. Jungwon is very good at hiding frustration, anger and even sadness behind a serene smile.

It could be Hanni.

We take the long way round to get into Hybe's underground car park. I parked the car but didn't get out immediately, I was confused - a bit, by being with Ester and Amanda at the same time.

Even though we were all wearing black masks, the guard recognised us immediately, a little surprised to see us with the two girls.

"Where is the doctor?" Jungwon asks him.

The man looks at him, seems to understand - maybe he thinks we are here to abort the girls' pregnancies, how embarrassing, but above all how annoying that we cannot deny it.

The guard gives us directions and we take the lift to the ninth floor. Amanda seems to have calmed down at last, away from those two lunatics, but I am annoyed that she is comfortable - after all, we let her know last night that we were going to continue to take use of her.

On the contrary, Ester seems calm, although she seemed distant from the start. We didn't talk much, but I saw her again and we did, so I thought she would be more affectionate towards me, and that makes me nervous.

Could Amanda have told her about our conversation? I don't think so, I think she's more the type who would never do something like that to avoid hurting her friend - and besides, it's not like there could be anything between us after the way things turned out.

"We'll wait for you here." Jungwon says, after we have met the doctor.

He doesn't have a reassuring look on his face at all, on the contrary, he seems far too enthusiastic, especially after he tells the two of them to take off their masks before entering the office.

"Does he look okay?" I ask Jungwon, leaning against the wall as I stare at the door. "No, but Ester is there. Besides… he'll be a professional if he works here." He says it, but doesn't seem to believe it. "Like the other professionals who work here." I whisper, irritated.

Jungwon chuckles irritably. He is not too happy about Hybe taking over our agency either, although they have always been present in Belift, now they have direct decision-making power.

"What do you know about Intaek?" Jungwon asks me at some point, partly to kill time. "Why? I don't think it's dangerous for Sunoo to be with him, and I don't think it's because of what you think." "You think? He's never introduced us to the person he's with, why not him?" "I don't think he decided to tell us all of a sudden after hiding it from us for a long time. And Intaek is straight anyway, I'm pretty sure." "But… now things have changed, haven't they?"

We both sigh. I'm not in the mood for this discussion.

It hasn't even been half an hour and I'm already getting bored.

"Shall we have lunch together?" He asks after a while. "Are you sure it's okay? For Hanni? I know it's not a good time for her and the girls, does that sound right?" "Don't lecture me - Jungwon sneers amusedly, but I can tell he's nervous - I'm starting to think there's someone else who can comfort her, since she's not asking me for help." "Maybe she's just proud." "I know Hanni. - He says, but her tone has become serious. - Don't worry, just because I want to spend some time with noona…"

Instead it bothers and annoys me. I wanted to spend some time with Ester after the visit, alone, so I planned to take them home. If we were all together, at home, nothing could have happened to Amanda, right?

Or should I be worried about the opposite?

"Don't get hung up on this you too." "I'm too proud to fall for someone who has already fallen for one of us. I'm just sadistically curious." "What you say is definitely not reassuring." "'Yah! - I hear Ester talking loudly, just as two people pass by in the corridor (unbelievably, no one had passed before). - I said I don't fucking need it!" She curses in perfect korean.

Jungwon, who had been sitting down, suddenly gets up, but waits for the people to move away to abruptly open the door, finding a bizzarre situation. Both Amanda and Ester seem fine, except for the doctor in the middle, who looks very embarrassed. He is a middle-aged man, well-groomed but not handsome.

"It was just a proposal." The man says, clearing his throat. "I told you no twice! What's the point of asking a third time?" Ester replies, grabbing Amanda's wrist. I walk towards them. "What's going on?" "I just asked the young lady if…" "If she wanted to be visited? - Jungwon interrupts in disbelief. - Oh my God, really?" "Never mind." Ester complains and leaves the doctor's room without her mask, as does Amanda.

Jungwon stares at the doctor and I sigh nervously, I can't behave the way I'd like to for fear of causing a scene, but I understand the situation perfectly. I grab Jungwon's arm and drag him out, though he continues to stare at the doctor until we are outside and follow the girls.

"Wait, Ester!" I call to her. "Let's go!" She only answers me when we are in front of the lift, which is still on the first floor. "What happened?" "I don't want to get Amanda in trouble, but he was a pervert. - She says in a low voice, but clearly nervous. - He enjoyed watching her while examined her. He even had an erection, it's disgusting. He asked me if I wanted to be examined…. He kept asking fucking inappropriate questions!"

I knew I couldn't send her alone, if she had come with our manager we would never have known. Obviously our hands are tied, going back to his fucking office to beat him into unconsciousness is out of the question.

"Let's get him fired." Jungwon says, not laughing. "We can't do that. - I remind him, because he's letting his impulsiveness get the better of him. - He might tell everyone about the host and cause a scandal. "He must have signed a NDA." Says the leader. "He works in Hybe, he might have enough money to cover the debt." Jungwon slaps the wall quickly but firmly. "This sucks, I hate this shitty place." "Why didn't you call for help before?" I ask Ester. "I-I told her to leave it alone! - Amanda replies and I'm forced to look at her. - I don't want to make a mess, please. It's risky, you know. M-Maybe we should apologise." "Are you kidding? - Ester asks, and I don't know what to say. - He should be fired, warn his wife and children about what he's doing. And the other? The others host will probably go alone!" "It's absurd that nobody ever reported it." Jungwon says. I sigh and massage my eyes, the lift doesn't seem to be coming any more. "Maybe they did, and they've been covered up. We know Hybe, we know the people who work there and how they deal with the most inconvenient problems." "Fucking shit." Ester curses again, this time in english, and she has a really sultry voice.

She is so beautiful and mature. She takes care of Amanda. She gives her the attention of an older sister, even though she knows all the backstory and even though she knows we were together and probably suspects it will happen again.

"If this got out, it would hurt everyone in the company." Amanda explains sadly. Ester strokes her head and hugs her. "Are you OK?" "He didn't do anything weird, he just had a lot of fun…" She nods, perhaps trying to reassure us all. "And you? - I ask Ester. - How are you?" She stares at me in silence, not seeming to want to answer me, but then she smiles and looks back at Amanda, though she doesn't seem to be sincere. "Nothing happened to me."

Just then the lift arrives and I sigh with relief. The sooner we get out of this building, the sooner the two of them will be safe - I'm not forgetting that we might run into…

Shit, that's him. Coming out of the lift, it's him.

Ester turns around confused and paralysed when she sees him coming out, he just stops and smiles at her, realising she's a fan. Of course he looks at Amanda too, he makes a 'damn girl' expression, then very smiling he turns towards us.

'Taehyung sumbae. - I say, uncomfortably, making a polite but very hinted head sign. - How nice to meet us." "Fuck - says the BTS senior, putting a hand on Jungwon's shoulder - you guys got big, huh?" "Sumbae… great - sighs Jungwon. - Why are you at Hybe?" "I fell recently, hurt my shoulder. - He explains with great kindness that I don't remember it belonging to him, though. - Hybe doesn't want me to go to real hospitals, so they can hide what they want from me. How about you?" He asks, looking at the girls, Ester cannot speak.

I am, yes, objectively jealous. She used to have these reactions with me, didn't she?

She's already got used tome, I see.

We all laugh, I less sincerely though because everything that shouldn't have happened has just happened, after all Murphy's Law says it too, if something can go wrong, it will.

"Routine visit." Jungwon replies in a seemingly good mood, though I notice he is getting closer to Amanda. "Dude, you brought company. Man, they're too good for newbies like you…" We laugh again. "But here we are." "Why don't we have a drink? Seokjin's coming over."

What the hell… well, at least it's not Jungkook.

"Ah… that sounds safe? Where could we go tomorrow morning?" Jungwon tries to respectfully decline the invitation, but for a sumbae of his calibre, it would be a serious offence to refuse. "Hybe has a nice café. - Taehyung replies immediately with a smug smile. - Don't worry about what they might say at Hybe, we often come here with girls, it's the only place where we can have breakfast in the area. They'll think they're with us, it's okay."

No, all is not okay. I look at Jungwon, he looks at me, although we try not to show it, we share the bad mood.

"That would be great, sumbae - Jungwon replies, pretending to be enthusiastic - do you want us to wait for you while you go to visit? In the meantime…" "I'll go another time, it wasn't that important - Taehyung says smiling as he holds the lift open for us to get on - and besides, it would be crazy of me not to meet with the doctors from outside." He confides under his breath as he gets on behind us. "We've never spent any time together, have we?" I remember, annoyed, as I press the button for the seventh floor, where Hybe's cafeteria is located, or rather the one that is more intimate and private than the one on the first floor.

Of course, I know this place too.

"Oh, it's never too late. - Taehyung says as he looks at the girls. - Since the last time we saw each other you've grown taller, prettier and much more famous." "Yeah, but you're still working with TXT, right? They are quite famous too." I remind him. "We don't decide on these kinds of collaborations, we just accepted when they proposed it to us." The older explains. Jungwon laughs. "It's nice to be able to choose, isn't it? We can't do anything like that." "Oh well, it's like that for everyone - Taehyung sighs amusedly - but it's only because of us that Hybe is Hybe, today. We should be the ones to make practically every decision, but all we can do is choose.

Nice future perspective. I'm sure Taehyung isn't being entirely sincere, I'm quite sure Hybe treats them honourably, but to be fair there aren't many prospects who see us as the next BTS.

That is, if Hybe doesn't go bankrupt first.

"I don't want to scare you, just become more popular and things will be easier for everyone." Taehyung explains. "It's hard to believe that someone like you, sumbae, wants to spend time with us." Jungwon encourages him to throw in the towel. "Actually, I just want to meet the girls. They're not really your girls, are they?"

I look at him very badly, even he notices it and starts giggling nervously. In general I think I would be calmer if Ester wasn't there too, instead I feel guilty, I almost feel belittled, and it's ok if the person I compare myself to is Taehyung from BTS, but why am I not ok in front of Ester?

"What are your names?" He continues, looking directly at the redhead, and I twist my lips in annoyance. "Actually, they are." "And you brought her here? - Taehyung asks amused. - If you have chicks, Hybe shouldn't know. Do you bring them here?" "What kind of girls do you bring to the Hybe cafeteria? - Jungwon asks amused. - Oh, wait…"

Ester looks at me, her eyes narrowing. Has she noticed that I am jealous? No, I'm not jealous, it just wasn't supposed to be like this - and she wasn't supposed to meet any of the BTS.

"I'm Ester, I'm a big fan of yours." She introduces herself as we stop in front of the café. "Ours? - Taehyung asks smugly. - Not mine?"

She's surprised, literally speechless, but I remind her to wake up, resting my hands on her slender hips, squeezing my fingers as I gently push her into the cafeteria, I don't want it to be perceived that I'm annoyed, Jungwon and Amanda follow us, giggling amongst themselves.

Everyone turns to look at us. There aren't many people around, mostly staff - but even though nobody pulls out their phones to film us, they're probably surprised to see this strange collaboration.

"And what is your name? - Taehyung asks, gently moving the chairs for both girls. - Are you quiet?" "Amanda, not a fan of yours. - Answers for her Jungwon and I laugh, so I turn away to hide it. - Engene in the deep." "It-it's still a great honour-" Amanda tries to speak. "I mean, it is." Jungwon interrupts her, making our host sit down after placing his hands on both shoulders and pushing her forward.

Now that I see sumbae Zico coming into the cafeteria with some friends, I'm thinking that Newjeans might also come here, even though it's very hostile territory for her these days. What if Hanni sees Jungwon paying all that attention to Amanda? That's a problem.

"How cute, you're jealous of your little doll, huh?" Taehyung laughs and raises his hand to call for table service. A waitress who is literally trembling in front of us, looking mainly at Taehyung, though I avoid looking at her as she is highly uncomfortable, takes several seconds before she manages to speak. "It's an honour… s-sir Kim." The boy turns and watches her quietly. "Call me oppa. Listen, I'd like a caramel mocha, also an americano ice. What would you like?" He looks at Ester, into her eyes. "Pancakes. Do you make them?" She asks the waitress. The girl is confused at first. "Yes, of course." "With maple syrup, please." She smiles nervously. Jungwon looks inspired. "Wow, now I want a dessert too. - He says and seems to think about it. - Ok, a croissant and espresso."

What refined taste, I smile, is he trying to impress Amanda because she is Italian? What an idiot, doesn't he know that croissants are french?

"An Ice Americano is fine." I sigh, unlike the redhead I'm not really in the mood for sweets. "I'll have an espresso too! - Amanda says and the waitress backs away. - It's too strong, it makes you hyperactive". She jokes, under the curious gaze of Taehyung, who probably sees them together - not knowing that they are not a couple for real. "So how did you two meet?" He asks Ester and me, while the other two continue to joke. "Mutual… friends?" She raises an eyebrow , doesn't find her own words very credible. "Mutual friends." I repeat more confidently. "Weird? - Taehyung asks amused. - Or maybe not, are you models? You look like."

Amanda smiles embarrassedly like a child, she seems to blush, the fool, Jungwon notices and pouts. Ester, on the other hand, continues to stare at him, still unbelieving that she can speak directly to him.

Still, Taehyung sumbae doesn't seem so bad. It's obvious that he has Ester in his sights, but he's still polite and has only made jokes so far. I'm annoyed that he's not a jerk, because if I've noticed it, she certainly has.

"Do we look like that?" Ester asks. Taehyung raises his hand and picks up a strand of Ester's hair with his finger, I guess with the intention of finding out if it is natural red or maybe just to invade her personal space. 'Absolutely.' - He says, then looks at me and smiles. - I know you've been doing great lately. You are very talented and have improved a lot recently." He compliments me. I'm really honoured, I don't even know what to say because I wasn't expecting a compliment. "Thank you…" "Jay hyung has become much more confident." Jungwon explains. Ester smiles but doesn't look at me. "Sometimes I forget you are so young." "Young? Aren't you his age?" Taehyung asks. "No, I'm much older." She giggles embarrassed. "Nah, no way. - He says. - Are you older than me?" "No, but…" "Then if you can't call your friend oppa, you should call me…" "Oppa?" Ester repeats incredulously. Amanda looks at him and seems to repeat the word, but Jungwon promptly shuts her mouth. "No, don't say that!" "She prefers younger guys, sumbae. Forget it." I tell him in a forced friendly tone. Taehyung laughs happily. "How cute, you remind me of me at your age. Anyway, when do you start the promotion again?" "We leave for Spain on the 10th." Jungwon says. "What?" Ester asks, confused, turning to me.

In fact I didn't even think of telling her, I was hoping she would know. The Music Bank has been planned for many months, if she was a fan she would know. Even Amanda only seems to know now, but she is justified considering what happens to her on a daily basis….

"Oh yes, the Mubank. First time abroad? I feel like no." Taehyung sumbae says. "Not really. But we love the idea of going to Madrid." I say. "Oh yeah, that's what it's called. - Jungwon replies with a chuckle. - I keep forgetting." "We've been to Europe before, even to the Prada event. - I explain. - In fact, we are leaving for Milan on monday for this year's."

Ester is still looking at me, I know she's angry, but we haven't had such relationship yet. I feel a bit guilty, though, because we have only just found out about the trip.

"Monday." Ester says, nodding. "You didn't know? - Taehyung asks amused. - Fuck I didn't know, sorry." He says to me. "When they go to my country? To Italy? Yes, of course I knew that." Ester says, laughing.

Meanwhile, the waitress returns and we are all silent for a long time as she places our orders in front of us.

"Are you Italian?"

Ester smiles as she pours herself some maple syrup, she is incredibly elegant even doing something so common.

"Can't you feel my heat? I'm hot."

Taehyung bursts out laughing, Amanda follows, Jungwon hints at a giggle, while I remain impassive.

"I'm going to meet his parents."

Ester drops the bag of maple syrup on the pancakes, Amanda raises both eyebrows in surprise, she has the same expression as Jungwon. Soon they all burst out laughing and I sigh with relief, I was starting to feel uncomfortable.

"It's not true, he's lying." Ester says, still visibly shaken. "Well, before you take such a way - he puts his ear to her as they sit side by side in front of me - you should look around. Aren't you an army? I know someone in the BTS, even the handsome one, V, I think". He jokes, amused, how funny. "Are you happy with this collaboration with TXT? - Jungwon asks, noticing that the tone in which he said it not only didn't please me, it was really starting to get on my nerves, and it was blatantly touching her face. I sat up stiffly as I glared at him. - They seemed very sure that this would happen." "Hybe treats them way too well, doesn't it?" Taehyung asks, as if he wants us to say something. "It would be nice to think so - I sigh - but they're not doing too well either. They keep getting injured, but Hybe does nothing to ease their work." "Indeed. - He agrees with me without saying anything about it. - But I'm sure that sooner or later we'll be working together too, and then… since you're the perfect number, seven like us, I'm sure you'll break through. But of course I'm not saying that because this, you're good - he chuckles as he looks at us - and yes, very cute too". "You think so? - Jungwon smiles nervously, realising that he has somehow made us out to be a BTS clone group. - I hope you're right, sumbae." "Call me hyung." He tells him.

Taehyung is certainly strange, I think irritated, but here comes Jin Sumbae, Taehyung's colleague. He looks at us all very surprised.

"Aigoo, what is this, a reunion? - Then look at the girls. - With call girls?" Amanda chokes, Ester, despite being one of the BTS, gives him a dirty look. "W-What?" She's angry, but you can tell she's excited as she speaks to him. "Oh God, I thought you didn't speak korean. - He says, laughing with Taehyung as he sits next to Amanda. - Sorry, that was a stupid joke. Let's start again!" His tone is cheerful and friendly, then he focuses on us Enhypens and grins. "Wow, what brings you to Hybe? Don't you have your own place?" I sigh in irritation. "A lot of the things we used to do in Hybe, we have to do here now." "Oh right, the takeover - Seokjin nods - I feel sorry for you." "We feel sorry too." Jungwon comments amused.

We all laugh, a little coldly. As Jin starts to drink the drink Taehyung had ordered for him, he starts to tell us how surprised he is by our sudden and incredible popularity, then we try to congratulate them for their amazing success.

"And you are…" Seokjin asks after a while. "Amanda - the redhead points at her friend, then at herself - and Ester." "I'm sorry - Jin says, looking into Ester's eyes - it's just a joke we often make between us. It was absolutely rude of me, how can I make it up to you? - He then turns to Jungwon and me, who are sitting nearby. - Are they your girlfriends? You're out of your mind bringing them here." "It's okay, Hybe knows about them." I say rather sombrely.

I see Seokjin looking at Taehyung as if he understood something, but the junior just smiles, as if he doesn't want us to understand anything. Do they really understand? That would mean that they might have had one too… or at least in the past.

"I'm in Seoul only for a few days anyway - Taehyung says, looking at Ester. - I'm having a party tomorrow, why don't you come? We were going to invite our dongsaeng anyway." Seokjin laughs and looks at his friend, then at Jungwon. "Right, you were on the list anyway." "We're leaving the next day, that would be inconvenient." I reply. "Should we only invite girls then? Do you have friends pretty as you? The boys will like that." Jin laughs. "I don't think it's appropriate for them to come without us. - He laughs along, Jungwon, who must be really annoyed now. - But that is for another time! You'll have to invite us again." "Come on, you can't? The trip takes about fifteen hours, you'll sleep on the plane". Tries to persuade, Taehyung, gently, but his eyes suddenly look evil.

We know that there is no point in refusing, and frankly I have my doubts that Heeseung wouldn't want to go - even to the detriment of Amanda herself, I don't even doubt that, and then we should ask everyone else, not even Jungwon as leader can make such a decision without consulting the others.

"Thanks for the invite - I say, confused - where will it be?" "I'll send you everything later. I think I have Heeseung's number." Taehyung says.

We finish our drinks, Ester looks completely exhausted from the pancakes, in fact they brought more than usual, she can't eat them but looks at them as if it would be a shame not to eat them.

"Why didn't you order a drink? - I ask sternly, handing her my still half-full glass. - Here, drink this." Ester looks at me with her big eyes and long black lashes. "Thank you." Just replies. "Let's go, we still have to pick up those things. - Seokjin says and puts his hand on friend's shoulder. - Guys, that was fun. Girls, I'll watch this shit for the next seven days if it makes you happy. If I see you again, I'll apologise again. "See you at the party." Taehyung says and stands up. "Don't worry about the bill, we who are older will pay." Jin warns us, waving goodbye.

We are alone at last and I seem to be able to catch my breath now that they are gone. I turn to Ester, not what I want to show, but I think my expression is rather grumpy now.

"Thanks to you, I also met the Bangtans. - She says, but looks at Amanda. - Oh my God, you are a blessing!" "Actually you should be thanking us." Jungwon says offended. "I don't think so." Ester replies amused. "Shall we go?" I ask seriously.

After all, we are walking out of this goddamn café and far this goddamn fucking agency. I open the door for Ester but she walks in without even looking at me, Jungwon does the same with Amanda.

Why the hell is she mad at me? If anything, it's me she should be mad at, the way she wagged her tail for her beloved Bangtans. Besides, if we actually go to the party, they'll see Ester at her best and I have reason to believe that the other BTS will be there too.

"Jungwon, I'll drive you home." I say. "What? No! That was not the deal!" He protests immediately. "Where am I supposed to leave you?" I answer dryly, needing to talk to Ester alone. "You can drop me off at the next stop - Ester says, making me even more nervous. - I'll take the bus." "Really?" I ask, looking completely superior.

Jungwon stares at me for several seconds, speechless.

"Noona, do you want to see my house?" He asks our host a few seconds later. "N-not sure…" Amanda says shyly. "I'm telling you, don't worry. - He's persuasive as usual, Jungwon. - Can we have lunch while you… I don't know, argue? I hope not".

He just wants to be alone with Amanda, away from those vultures, I can understand that. Apart from spending the day with Ester, somewhere safe and secluded, I don't mind, but I'm still angry.

"All right, let's do it. - I mutter, suddenly changing direction and practically knocking everyone in the car over. - You idiots, you need to put your seatbelts." "Or you could drive well." Ester says to me after buckling herself back in, glaring at me from the mirror. "Let's try again." I reply, swerving sharply again. " Yah! - Ester shouts, her genuinely shocked voice making me smile, but I hope she doesn't realise I'm amused. - Do you want to die?" "Shall we try again?" "Stop it!" She screams again. Amanda whines as Jungwon dies laughing. "Hyung, I feel so many emotions!"

[dirty-bosmer]

Fandom: Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion Relationship: Mathieu Bellamont/Lucien Lachance but in the "haha, I think of you nonstop and want to kill you so bad that I'll cut you open and crawl inside your skin to be inside you" sort of way :) content warning: dissolution of the self, murder and the soul-crushing grief that accompanies it.

I just really love Mathieu Bellamont + he gives me more excuses to write angst. Here, I wanted to write a series of microfics that explore the tragic relationships he has with the people in his life, past and present.

Prologue: Dead Spaces

Remember the breeze? Remember its salt tang? Remember the snap of the sails in the harbor, the rolling rhythm of Wayrest’s waters, how sharp the first breath hit the back of our throats when we rose from the white-wash, hand in hand?

When we were together— alone together— we were perfect, could have stayed like that forever. Weren’t you happier too when it was just the two of us, you and I away from Father? If only you knew what I knew, that nothing else really mattered. Together we were whole, Mother. Why did you have to bring us back to that house we knew was never a home?

— from the diary of Mathieu Bellamont

—

Because at nine you saw His sickness in the flesh, an evil so mindless, so monstrous that your little voice couldn’t yet find the words to name it anything but death. Because death’s fist clenches much further than its arm can reach, and only in her absence did you learn her passing had killed the both of you, that beyond the artifice, beneath the skin, it was all blood and bone and borrowed time. Ten thousand suns and ten thousand more to come— they rise, each one, like the weals left by biting gnats. As a boy, all your wounds too were circles, and sometimes you wonder, were there anything left of him, what shape would he have become?

The shadows pulse along the sanctuary wall— yours, a gnarl of limbs bent by the weight of accruing grief that as a boy frightened you so much you fell asleep with your eyes open. Hours you’d spend watching your silhouette warp in the receding light, convinced even your own body could betray you, and why shouldn’t it? Flesh deceived you once before, and your father’s blood beats within you still, a traitor’s poison. Hear it sloshing. Hear it straining, slow and viscous, stirred by some feat of necromantic magic keeping your corpse tethered to Nirn. Yes, though these eyes blink and this mouth moves, you hang beneath the surface of the skin. The hand in the puppet, the echo of an old command, yet there is no more man here than there is in a persistent haunting. Were you a curse or were you never more than an afterthought of Arkay’s to begin with? See, it’s not so much death you’ve cheated as it’s life you’ve managed to escape, but men as small as you can do that when made up of empty space.

Your existence has been no more than an exercise in breathing as little as possible, taking only from Nirn what is needed to carry onward one more day. Consume too much of life, and you risk dissolving the formlessness you’ve cultured. Someone might notice, reach out and touch you, pull you off your liminal stage. Pray tell, what happens then? Do you precipitate? A deposition? Can you turn the vapor back to crystal, form the memory of what was into the man who should have been? If someone called your name, could you answer sure and without wincing? Could you level a stare, gaze back into the eyes of the damned and living and see reflected there the shape of you, the quake of you? Could you risk it?

To go on knowing that maybe you weren’t drowned completely, that all this time you could have saved yourself if only you had reached, that when Arkay turned his back and let the dead wash up, blue and bloated, maybe your mother’s life wasn’t the one that you’d been brought back to retrieve.

And are you both or are you neither when all that’s left of her is your face? No, no. Tell yourself she is not gone, merely going, and keep your grip tight even if it demands all of your strength, because wherever she is, there you are too. Remember that her heart beat once for the both of you, and though what you share now is not life, it is sacred, a bond more binding than your father’s blood. How could anyone else comprehend it? The others sleeping in the sanctuary, body heat like a low grade fever, will never know you’re not their brother, already someone else’s son, and you’re a son as long as you remember that you are a part of her, the heart of her, that even before you came into this world, you were wanted, you were loved.

And if the boy you were was still here, would you recognize him? Would he, you, lying awake as you are now, dry eyes turned to the horizon’s beginning light? Imagine him somewhere on the water, trawled up and imploded, body misshapen, his smile split like an open coffin. Imagine him shadowless and shapeless, lying still and blistering with hope as he waits for the next of ten thousand suns for the day he’s made back into one.

Take comfort then in having been born again a ghost, for you do not look to the future. There is none.

[9ine9ine9ine6ix]

life gets better when you stop assuming all irritating actions from other people are inherently malicious

do they stan genocide or have they grown up in an environment that only ever taught them how to kill and why killing is profitable while censoring out any information that contradicts those ideologies?

do they hate a diaspora of people for their skin tone or have they only been exposed to media where negative caricatures of those People were used, in an environment where NOT laughing at the racist joke was unacceptable? what if they were never effectively taught that racism is literally an excuse for forced exodus and stealing peoples homes and resources?

in my hometown, the word s*v*ge is literally an anti indigenous slur whereas everywhere else it's aparently an adjective/noun and even a desirable character trait? but if i never got on the side of tiktok im on, i deadass may NOT HAVE KNOWN ITS "JUST" A WORD PEOPLE USE. tbh im not gonna ever say it again after this post cause i was still raised to think its a horrible insult against the people who originally cultivated this land.

you can only ever know what you've been given access to, or what you've figured out and then had proved by some outside source. really general statement, but let's make it apply here.

were you taught about what information about NK came from Dispatch/TMZ/tabloids vs. what was actually outlined in the documents released by the CIA? or do you just parrot that everyone north of south korea has the same haircut and will be arrested if they smile?

there should be enough context in this post to show you that i'm still not in favour of the political actions of north korea, but i know someone will latch onto the words above and use that as an outlet for their own frustrations or misunderstanding. this post is about Not reacting like that btw

but i went to a normal lower income public highschool in normal rural (aka choked out farmland) USA north cackalacky and ive had to intentionally forget EVERYTHING i learned in those history classes because it's either been blatantly wrong, intentionally taught to me in a misleading way, or was expressing some financial/political biases of our school and the no child left behind program. my best friend who got to go to the rich kid highschool in gentrified town had to do the SAME THING. and it sucks having to learn all this from scratch, but at least i know how to look up primary sources instead of pretending NBC has "all the facts".

"you can't learn off a ten minute tiktok"THEN STOP QUOTTING THE TWO MINUTE BROADCAST NEWS ARTICLE. at least see if lester holt/ the tiktoker made a damn works cited page first

but yeah, if you don't provide any sources or education to someone about an ideology, ESPECIALLY IF YOURS IS BASED IN FACT RATHER THAN TRADITION AND EMOTION, that person straight up may never learn they're wrong. they'll just keep viewing contradictory information as a personal attack, and you'll just keep bullying them in response because they're just a stupid bigot

education can be the prevention of bigotry and assault, and the us education system isn't doing anywhere near an effective job of like... teaching people comprehension skills. seriously, memorization only gets you so far, but like no one taught me how to organize my thinking and to practice logic until i got into speedrunning💀

"how do you teach them if they don't wanna be taught" don't use buzzwords/words that make your perspective clear, and casually bring up sources and stories. there's also a reason your classes last hours over a year rather than a few minutes.

you made it to the end of the post, help me out with comments from people who didn't

[the-s1lly-corner]

Hi. I don’t know if I’ve requested here before, but I have a (semi) great idea.

The rundown is somehow Caine found a karaoke machine! This leads to an iha where everyone + reader and Caine sing. (Honestly I just want to see what you’d think they’d sing).

Thank you!❤️❤️

KARAOKE TIME IN THE CIRCUS!

quick warning that you guys are about to be exposed to my music taste because i rarely ever listen to songs that dont fit my tastes so uh uh theres your warning, i know i have a warning somewhere on my acc where i say OOC is a possibility but i think it will really shine through here short post since its just me dropping what song i think each character would sing + links! this actually reminds me, ive had an IHA idea where its basically a musical episode where everyone cant talk, only sing but idk what the actual adventure itself would be and how music would tie in shrugs

CAINE:

as much as i wanna say hello world by louie zong, because AI stuff and bc ive been listening to it for the past hour on loop, i feel like that would be too on the nose and even completely out of character. so instead i suggest jerryterrys version of the boys are back in town

for one i am absolutely obsessed with jerryterrys version of the song above, as well as kiss me (kill me), i highly recommend you guys check out the music videos and put together the lore (CW for body horror in kiss me kill me, though!)

but like, my brain juices are flowing, like. i can see him singing the original, but imagine how unnerving it would be (assuming caine is actually going to be an antagonist) for the words to just. change and come out wrong in front of everyone

also i just want an excuse to gush about jerryterry

i love when people make song covers that sound like the original but theres something so terribly wrong

actually i love songs like that in general

caine gets two, because i can also see him singing charlie's inferno

POMNI:

oddly enough i can see pomni being into vocaloid and/or songs from anime. maybe its because her voice actor has voiced someone in JJBA and that fact is plaguing my mind, but i can now distinctly hear pomni singing some of my favorite songs in these genres... alas i dont have a set song in mind: so i will give you a song that does not fit the above at all, everyones favorite classic; come along with me from AT

JAX:

i give him, the main character by will wood because i can definitely see him singing this to be a little shit as well as genuinely. kind of seeing him enjoy the song

not much to say here since im not totally sure what jax would listen to :(!

RAGATHA:

okay i know i just brought up jerryterry's kiss me kill me, but that reminded me of the original kiss me because it does give me ragatha vibes

KINGER:

stumped on kinger, but first song that comes to mind is able by jack stauber i have nothing to explain this, but i will partially blame me listening to jack stauber a lot to be the reason

ZOOBLE:

cant explain this one either, i think its the tone of the voice but also im getting back into the scary jokes and

yeah

anyways icicles by the scary jokes , i can just see it

GANGLE:

okay so this one is less of a "i can see gangle singing this" and more of a "this makes me think of gangle" but imma put it here anyway since i dont have any other ideas for her !

today today by jack stauber

[jessjustplay]

Currently Playing Final Fantasy XVI - 57 hours update (Part 3)

June 28, 2025

Read Part 1 here and Part 2 here.

New area!

I think it's beautiful.

We finally fought this dude and the information on his insignia thingie after the battle was interesting. "...there are no records of a House Harbard ever existing in either Veldermarke or on the southern continent, begging the quesion: whence exactly did he hail?"

Great shot.

Then Barnabas comes out and keeps calling Clive Mythos which Clive doesn't like. Barnabas also says: "The cornerstone of all creation. The lord's vessel. Your purpose."

Clive is just like, wtf are you talking about?

Jill gets angry and decides to protect her man. He ends up keeping Jill while Clive and the others are back in the Hideaway. Clive is injured but Joshua heals him until Clive eventually wakes up.

I know better than to order Tarja to do anything. - Clive

But before we go get Jill, we have to do some side quests of course. I like how Clive says he knows better than to order Tarja around. He's such a good character!!

There are things we'd all rather leave behind, but sometimes it helps to talk about them.

Blackthorne is being moody again. I really think these Blackthorne side quests are just encouraging men to talk about their feelings. Which is great, if the message lands.

LOOK HOW PRETTY!!!

Okay, now we go save Jill. I loved this scene! It was cool having Gav, Joshua, Uncle Byron, and Torgal fighting with us at the same time.

This this dude shows up again and clones himself. I don't remember who says this but someone says: Sleipnir is no man... but a creation of Odin.

What is this, Fast and the Furious?

Dion update. Looks like he's just walking through the rubble of Twinside that he caused.

Close up shot of their flag. You can see Greagor on it.

THE MEDICINE GIRL!!

The Enterprise! Same name as the airship in Final Fantasy IV.

I love that Mid is the captain. There are a lot of women in leadership roles in this game!!! <3

Let's see what this girl can do! - Mid

Barnabas: The bond of consciousness which joins them condemning both to the same fate. Yet my every attempt to strike it from their hearts serves only to tighten its hold. Fascinating.

This is why I think this bond of consciousness he keeps talking about is just human connection - love, care, affection.

Great shot of Odin.

Splitting the water? Okay, Final Fantasy X. Is this a recurring thing in this game now?

Okay, we find Barnabas' ship and Clive and Torgal jump on it. We get Jill out but then Barnabas/Odin splits the water and they fall to the bottom. They have a fight (I think losing is part of the story) but before that, Barnabas gives us a lot of information.

Barnabas: This consciousness in which you coil your feeble souls is grown thick with desperation.

Barnabas to Clive: We (the eikons/dominants) were created for you, that you might drink deep of our strength and thereby fulfill your divine purpose.

Clive: You mean to turn everyone Akashic! Barnabas: Not turn, Mythos. Turn back.

AND THERE IT IS. That is the big evil plan.

Barnabas: For too long has mankind been led astray by their clamorous wills. It is time they returned to a world of quiet equality.

Reminds me of Tales of Berseria.

Anyway, Jill has heard enough so she freezes the water so she and Clive can escape. I forget why Barnabas leaves on his own. He obviously doesn't want to KILL Clive, but I don't really remember how this scene wrapped up other than Clive asking Jill if she's strong enough to cast the magic.

So anyway, THESE TWO had a steamy moment under the full moon.

Jill: The Clive I know would never do that. Clive: So you believe... but do you really know me?

Clive: ...each time I summon the flames from within... I burn away the things that make me who I am. Jill: It doesn't matter how or by whom it was granted, only how you choose to use it.

Clive: Myself? I think I might be beyond saving. Jill: No one is beyond saving... provided they want to be saved.

(They proceed to channel Shiva's powers into Clive) Jill: I'll give you the strength to bear it alone. Clive: But I'm not alone.

(Be still my heart)

These burdens I carry — My sins, my pain, my sorrow — I see now that they are all a part of me. - Clive

(Clive to Jill) Clive: If I am to continue on, having pledged my life to those I love... then I will gladly bear your burdens, too. Until my last breath.

(Oh my God)

Clive: We'll find a way to save each other... that we might one day look upon the moon again...

Jill: ...That I will be there, no matter what you must become.

They're embracing, Clive's kissing her hand, Jill starts crying, then smiles at him.

Clive: I never thought a smile could bring me so much joy.

(Ahhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!)

So anyway. That was SOOO cute and romantic. IDK why they had to be naked though, but I guess it's just supposed to show how incredibly intimate the moment is. Which makes sense, he's been absorbing everyone's eikon powers so they probably (with reason) wanted to make the moment he took Shiva's powers to be different and very intimate.

Read Part 1 and Part 2.