#doing awful things to my brain dude its so fucking bad

[seytrix]

inscryption has horribly ruined my life. i need to tear something up i love this fucking thing so much its so bad i want to break things out of love i need to rip something to shreds like an animal i am a rabid predatory creature gripping a rabbit in its maw and shaking it around

[spaciebabie]

shoutout 2 this person in my class who i can tell wants 2 talk 2 me really bad but instead of doing that whenever she has the chance she'll talk 2 whoever else is around and ignore me entirely unless im mentioned by name

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[banamine-bananime]

AITA for trying to save my friend and keep the rest of my asshole friends safe from their bad decisions?

I (M26) just went through this real shitty breakup. So basically, my ex C (M lmao man fuck if i know his age idek if knows it. or has one i guess) has this god-fucking-awful habit of deciding to solve every problem by dying about it and/or fucking off without so much as a word to the people unfortunate enough to give a shit about him, except maybe his sister (unhelpful for the rest of us because she also inherited the "fucking off without a word" gene. man fuck this whole family for making me care about them. whatever). Also, killing himself inside peoples brains thats like a whole hobby for him. like okay either ghost us OR kill yourself in front of us altering the trajectory of our lives forever PICK ONE like a NORMAL person.

Okay wait im not explaining this well. So years ago C and W (M37 now) were partners but C was, uh, in a really bad place mentally (S is telling me this is more diplomatic to say than "crazy af") and that situationship ended as badly as a situationship can end. I mean W's told me he pretty much had his sense of identity as someone separate from C totally destroyed by that for a while, which like, in hindsight its kinda an accidental dick move that our team made him take C's legal identity, but in our defense a) the fuck were we supposed to know?, b) tbf he really did need it not to go back to prison, c) it's not like C was using his identity, on account of the fucking off and effectively-dying-as-a-solution habits, and d) i mean. i gotta admit it's also pretty funny in a really fucked way.

aw shit derailed on a tangent again

recently its just like, we just get so focused on one thing its hard to remember anything else, you know?

S is so good at getting us back on track though. thank god because you would not believe the number of irons weve got in the fire to keep track of, its ridiculous. (i love making my partner be the planner in the relationship lol. highly recommend being a passenger princess in the body sometimes. fuck massages, i'm telling you THIS is what you need after a long day getting shit DONE and taking care of everyone else's messes)

So I met C 6 years ago, right out of basic, when we were privates stationed at the same base. middle of nowhere. shit, this is gonna be hard to explain, just realized i should use different names for C to keep them straight. I knew "A" and W knew "E", i didnt meet E until years later. theyre alters and also the same guy but also not the same guy. dont worry about it if you dont get it bc ive dated both of them and i dont think i do. my life is stupid.

Bunch of bullshit happened, A ghosted (lol. you'd be high-fiving me if you knew him) and then found a problem to solve by dying. you get it by now.

Then i meet E, E encounters a problem and tries to die about it round one (i guess round two, after exploding in W <- LOL. you should be high-fiving me right now), E's sister drags him back to the land of the living, E ghosts, W and i start dating, W tries to martyr himself and disappears because i guess E rubbed off on him (dude i am on a fucking roll. you should be high-fiving me out of pity for my glamorously miserable soap-opera life if nothing else. homophobic not to), our team gets W back, E strolls back like he has no idea why im mad at him, we fight about it, makeup-makeouts about it, and E tries to die about it round two: in my brain boogaloo.

So thats how S and i meet. oops, guess i never introduced S? Feels weird to have to introduce ourself twice, people dont really meet us separately anymore LOL. S (M, ageless) is also C's alter, my partner in life and badassery and brain and body. and obviously freaky sex stuff, that goes without saying but i'm saying it anyway to brag. the swish swish to my stabbing people who really deserve it. Not really interested in your opinion on our relationship, it's not what i'm asking about. we're aware its not conventional, because we're not fucking braindead. Im so sick of all the "oooohhhhh this isn't healthy", "he's a male manipulator and youre codependent i know bc i learned psychology from tiktoks by girls with green hair", "why are you wearing your ex-boyfriend's armor colors while wearing his dead ex-boyfriend's armor while dating and sharing a brain with your dead mutual ex's alter", "have you considered going to therapy instead of a quest against death itself" blah blah blah. If youre so bored you need to judge our life then just get your own 🙄🙄🙄

we've been really on that sigma grindset the last few weeks. S has got our sleep optimized down to a tight triphasic 3.46 hours and we're minmaxing the fuck out of the rest of every day. Biohacked to shit over here. too much to do, so we have to make there be enough of our time to do it. who else is gonna? my teammates? the REDS? we're half batman half babysitter to a gaggle of idiots who can barely be trusted to wipe their own asses, let alone fight their own battles and make decisions like "wah wah wah A is dead let's just give up and cry about it or whatever".

Don't even get me started on W. Oh youre all about character-building wake up and grind self-improvement and taking leadership until we're making decisions you dont like, i guess. WHATEVER. this is why we dont listen to you.

its hard, okay. like, you cant understand the sheer fucking stress were under trying to keep all our plans going smoothly while keeping these guys safe while they're basically actively trying to unravel every carefully-laid thread and also strangle themselves in them. im probably going prematurely grey and also losing some time. its hard to remember when we need to hold back and use the kiddy gloves. i really didnt want to come to holding - uh, we'll call him MC (M25) - by the throat, passed-out. he's like a brother to me, been through thick and fucking thin together, so yeah, i feel really bad about that, my bad, we were the asshole there, but like, maybe stop throwing yourself in the way? like run out into the road you're gonna get hit by a truck no matter how hard they slam the brakes. mfw the conses quence. but im NOT asking about that. everyone's been on our dick about "please god stop doing all of this" and abandoning A and trying to break us up way before that, and THAT'S what im asking about

Anyways tl;dr are we the asshole for getting shit done when it takes methods that all our monday morning quarterback friends dont like

_____

OP has offered the following explanation for why they think they might be the asshole:

it really was a dick move to dangle my teammate's limp body in a chokehold even though it was basically an accident and also not even directly relevant to the question

OP has offered the following explanation for why they think they might not be the asshole:

okay but we're right

[tandytoaster]

Ngl this Christmas season kinda sucked. Like a lot

Me complaining lol

Nanny making light of how my mother almost died. Like my mom forgets something and nanny is like "oh lol its because you had a brain aneurysm" and on one hand i understand joking about something fucked up that happened to you and the scenario of your daughter being inches from death would seriously fuck you up but i don't know i just don't think its funny. I dont think its her thing to joke about. Nanny and I are on complete opposite sides of this like shes like "lol my daughter almost died. Tee hee" and I'm like. Forever altered for the worse by this

Omg. She had a moment back in September where she wasn't telling Steve stuff and he flipped out at her like cursing at her and screaming. I can't remember if I talked about this I feel like I might have. But like HE called me that day and was like, "hey uhhh idk if u were talking to ur grandmother or not but i kinda freaked out on her earlier and i feel bad about it and i wanted to tell u my side of the story because we've been talking more and i really appreciate that" and i was like 🤏👓🤨 EXCUSE ME? Not actually but i was thinking it. And then that night or the night after nanny called me and telling me the same thing, that steve flipped out at her and she was like "omg. I don't think I'll ever think of him the same. i dont care if i ever speak to him again" and all i could do was be like, "ok. yeah." Because why is THIS. Where you draw the line why do you decide to hate him when he's mean to you but you still talk to him despite the shit he did to me. Like all I could think was "i dont give a damn" like truly i dont lol. I dont care that steve yelled at you. Like daaaammmnnnn thats craaazzyyyyy he yelled at you? Omg? Should we cancel him? Should we write a callout post? LMFAOOOOO

She's also like 100% fine with him again. Joking about her saying she was gonna chop his dick off because whe was so upset with how he spoke to her.

Thats so funny that you wanted to chop his dick off over him yelling at you. and not anything else. that would warrant having his dick chopped off.

I have to live this shit ass game of pretend for the rest of my life. I fought against this for 5 years and nothing changed. No one cares. No one wants to think about it. Its a battle I've lost, I lost it the moment it started I truly never had a chance. But I tried. And I failed. And I tried. And I failed. And I tried. And I failed. So I'm done. They win. I'll never ever say it didn't happen, BECAUSE IT DID, but I'm just never going to acknowledge it again to them just like everyone else. I'm sorry if that makes me a shitty survivor or whatever .

Also nanny is just . Overly excitable when company comes over and she gets like. Too ready to tease. Like shes just slinging jabs at anyone and everyone in her way. Like all my life my mother would tell me that nanny is awful and that she treated her like the black sheep of the family and i see it. I know that I for sure have it better than my mom, which is a damn shame, but like. Fuck dude idk!!!

And nanny is just weird. She puts garbage in with clean stuff and calls it tidying and she laughs when someone tells her thats not right, and when they're like, "no, seriously, do not do that" she goes, "well i guess i can't do anything!" And then she fake laughs to try to seem like she's not mad but she is mad. That someone told her not to actively damage her surroundings

Reading this I'm realizing its literally just nanny being weird. Nanny moments.

I baked a butterscotch pie for her and Sacha and nanny told me to put it in the basement because its cold down there, so i did and she FORGOT ABOUT IT!!!! FOR DAYS!!!!!! i made it on the 23, it finished setting on the 24th, she forgot about it until today, the 28th, brought it up from the basement at 12pm, and nanny forgot about it Again until 5pm. So it was sitting at room temp for 5 hours. She was like, "yeah it tastes different" I FUCKING WONDER WHY?

Its just a really difficult, stressful and time consuming thing to make and to have it be forgotten about when I work hard using the little energy I have to make it, it hurts ! I don't have any money to buy anything for anyone not even my girlfriend, so thats why I bake 😔 Man usually I'm not passive aggressive but dude. Nanny was like, "do u think its still good" and i was like, "well lets just eat it and see what happens if we get sick we get sick 🙃"

[yakool-foolio]

Out of all of the Amaterasu employees that we see in the game, if you had to list them from most morally good to least, how would you list them?

Obviously, they are all terrible people in multiple ways, but I'm just curious

Hmm, interesting! I haven't even really considered how much they'd be weighed on a scale for their morality. I like contemplating new ways to 'rank' characters though, and the peacekeeper higher-ups, other than Yomi (and Hitman Zilch since they basically come in a package deal in my brain), do deserve some more attention from me, so I'll give it a go! I'll just stick with ranking the higher-ups since we have the most info on what we see of them in canon, so sorry Huesca, your judgement day will have to come another time (not to mention we don't have enough info on the specifics of how bad he really was other than him 'sacrificing others for his own research' and conspiring to kill Yakou's wife, but honestly that should be enough to send him into the murky depths of the river Styx). This list will go from least morally corrupt to most morally corrupt, but I think we can already tell who's at the top.

First off, it's our lil sickly guy Seth! Poor guy honestly did the least things wrong, probably couldn't even hurt a fly if he really tried. While he did threaten to sink the sub and arrest the detectives on scene, he did give them a time limit to investigate and find the culprit. It was a very restrictive time limit, but still a chance to save themselves nonetheless. He was just doing as he was ordered to by Yomi in regards to taking money from the church, who knows what would've happened to him if he disobeyed. Guess we'll never know, sorry Seth.

Next up is Martina. I've been debating on where to put her, but honestly compared to the others, she somehow manages to scrape by as the second least morally corrupt. Most of my reasoning is due to her actively realizing that Yomi was an awful influence and resigning as a peacekeeper. No peacekeeper other than Seth had that kind of hindsight of their actions being the cause of Yomi being Yomi. Martina's above Seth on the moral corruption list cause she still actively threatened to shoot two young detectives and definitely would've pulled the trigger had she not been stopped.

Swank takes a spot right smack dab in the middle on the Amaterasu morality scale. This dude is greedy af and worked alongside Hitman Zilch to frame Yuma for the massacre on the train. And he would've gotten away with it too, if it weren't for that meddling chief! As soon as Yakou stepped into the scene, Swank's disposition took a surprising turn. He surrendered Yuma over to Yakou when he could've easily still arrested Yuma and moved on with his day. And yet, all it really took was for Yakou to say 'I'll tell WDO about your bad behavior and they'd be so mad at you >:T' and Swank took the hint and backed off. MAN DIDN'T EVEN GET BRIBED WITH MONEY! HE JUST TOOK THE L AND LEFT! That's the power of the charismatic blue father figure for ya. Honestly, Swank could've been ranked lower than Martina, but as far as we know, he never got that same sense of hindsight, so he could still be a money-grubbing, mass-murder framer to this day.

And now we move up to Guillaume and Dominic. These two are inseparable, so they shall be treated as such. I think its safe to say these guys like the thrill of hunting down Yuma and want to beat him and his allies to a pulp despite his pleas for mercy. They punch first and ask questions later. Not to mention they view all citizens as slaves, easily manipulated the power of Amaterasu. At least they gave up on harming Yuma when they were given the actual culprits, but Yuma would've easily been turned to paste if not for the detectives' intervention.

And finally, earning the top spot for most morally fucked by a landslide is Yomi! Do I even really need to go into the specifics about why this guy is so damn horrendous? Well, let's do a lightning round! Yomi hired a hitman to kill anyone who criticized or went against him (such as Yakou's wife), violently abused and almost had his 'girlfriend' killed, planned the Amaterasu Express Massacres, physically punished many of his coworkers, manipulated Yakou into killing Huesca, kicked down a dying Yakou, threatened to kill the detectives multiple times, and attempted to leak info about a militaristic experiment to create immortal soldiers to other facilities for some cash. Fuckin' bitch.

[bloogers-boogers]

Hi I know its been awhile but I need to ask is how do you ship Adam and Lucifer

Since they only interact with one episode and Adam dead ??

Agsisgskwushs dude where have u been??! Missed u💕🥺

Anyways, the whole reason why i shipped Adam and Lucifer is just their small interactions made it easy to imagine many possibilities, alternatives, hcs, etc. Mostly based on their funny dynamic alone (like Lucifer being a tease and Adam pissy about the whole cheating thing i was like agdjwgekwhe funny af and then THE joke of fucking him sealed their dynamic for me as my favorite from the show right there and there) and also to picture what it could’ve been? Like, there’s so many holes you can fill in there. That’s what got me so stuck with it, that you can add so much to their backstory, also, the fact that they use Adam being an asshole and stuff as a joke bc he was the first man so ‘it makes sense or whatever’ blah blah so my mind immediately goes, oh, so he’s like the punching bag of the show? Bet bet I love him. When they’re like the ones doing all the bad shit, villains, does the crazy stuff (Cartman for example) or taking the shit of everything/being the joke (Meg from family guy for example) I immediately just like them for no reason, I love my failure characters. It’s interesting cause I was so nonchalant about Adam when I first saw him on screen, if im being honest. I didn’t even blink an eye when he got killed off but then, I saw him without the mask and I was like, he’s hot agdosgslabxlshxos like i was more shock that there weren’t more people who agreed with that than him dying. But still, he wasn’t like a character that I thought of while watching the show.

BUT ANYWAYS to responding ur answer?

I just liked Adam. His personality is funny, his character is interesting. I like him. The same happened with Lucifer. He’s goofy and sad. His backstory is drawing but there’s so much left out that makes you wonder more about him. I love him.

It’s was all based on their funny dynamic alone that drawn me to be like, ay? Im gonna look them up and see what I can find. And OH BOY i was sucked in immediately agdkwdhwosueuo

And the fact that Adam’s dead could’ve made me not consider the ship at all, but the show is about redemption and ALSO hell and heaven. Aka souls. Meaning they already died. Soooo the possibility is there and we have a dead character and he was an angel but was very awful! And deserved to be in hell. Sir pentious could redeem himself (a sinner) so it only makes sense that winners can go down there too! If they’re deserving of it and obviously Adam was deserving of it agrlwbdkwdbwj

My brain works like that it’s silly but

Adam/ bad winner+ dying = sinner

Sir pentious/ ?? (This is a whole other rant I don’t want to dive in to abdoabdwksk) I do believe Sir pentious could’ve gotten to heaven regardless, but I feel it could’ve been written off better just cause … i mean, yeah, he sacrificed himself but like u can still sacrifice for the people that matter to u and STILL be a bad person/do bad things?? Im just saying ok??

Anyways, he’s now dead (again) and a winner.

Point be told. In this show it’s possible for him to come back (I don’t care if he was killed with angelic steel im ignoring it everything’s possible skgdakdvakvdw) and it doesn’t even matter if he doesn’t return in the actual show. In this universe u can still picture a sinner Adam and it would make sense??

Cause it’s hell and heaven we’re talkin’ about. And it’s fiction too so u can create your own story and it just I REALLY LOVE THEM.

Also other ships weren’t interesting enough for me to get stuck on them. I initially shipped Alastor and Lucifer the moment they were on screen and bf they got popular! Bc i thought their dynamic FUNNY/INTERESTING. Thats what gets me into shipping. It must be funny but also u can add some lore into it. I think I’ve mentioned this before with kyman.

But yeah, don’t get me wrong I like radioapple but once the popularity hit off and different hcs and the thousands of interpretations of the characters started coming out, i dunno i couldn’t keep up and I just kinda just stirred away from it. I ship basically everything on that show, it doesn’t even matter skgdwlshow so I’m open for any ship there is on there but adamsapple? MWAH. Always.

Sbdowosbdk thennnnnnn I started reading amazing fics about them and boi u can imagine how good they were!!

Anyways sorry for the long rant. In short. Adamsapple for the win 🥇💕💕👏🏼👏🏼

[princeinsomniavoid]

Living

In which guts are spilled, feelings are realized, and a cliche isn't really a bad thing.

huge tw for graphic suicidal ideation/attempt, non-explicit themes of child neglect, general homestuckness, gay people [eeeewww/j]

[TG]: Sitting at the precipice of an endless fall into the void all by yourself handsome?

Dave flops down next to Percy with a muffled grunt and playfully nudges him in the shoulder with a fist. The page snorts through his nose and rolls his eyes.

Dave leans back on his palms and looks out at the void of the Furthest Ring

[CC]: That was awful, even for you Dave.

[TG]: Well excuse me princess, its not like I scoured the entire meteor trying to find your elusive ass, the least you can do is appreciate my dated references and witty non-sequitur.

[TG]: I can see why you come out here, there sure is a lot of... of... of space... aha.

This earns him a light punch in the arm. He shrugs it off with a light laugh and the banter truly begins. They’re good at that, the talking, like they’ve known each other their whole lives. Aside from John, Rose, and Jade, Dave is pretty sure that he’s known Percy the longest. He can’t remember a time when he didn’t have cadaversCavelry [CC] in his pesterchum window. Seeing him in person like this again after such a long absence gives him an odd feeling in his chest, but not an uncomfortable one.

He’s not sure when it reaches this point, the point in their conversation when they’re both laughing so hard that Dave is sure he’s going to pass out, but sure enough he’s gripping his stomach and wheezing so hard he can feel himself getting lightheaded.

Percy coughs and falls onto his back trying to catch his breath. At some point Dave’s glasses have been knocked askew and he’s blinking back tears. The laughter and jokes continue until Dave is certain he’s going to get a migraine. Sooner or later they fall back into silence, an easy sort and the kind Dave has vague memories of sharing before. He looks over to see that Percy has sat back up and drawn his knees into his chest as he stares nearly unblinking out into the void with a far away expression, and something about that makes his stomach hurt and he can’t for the life of him think of why.

[TG]: Ok- ok dude T.O T.O I can feel the blood rushing to my head oh my god-

[CC]: Sorry- Sorry- Just the- oh jeez I remember the guy’s delivery on it too-!

Woah. Holy shit. What? What?? What??! The question hits Dave in the throat like a brick. Definitely not, he thinks, Dave is pretty sure he’d remember a fucking bombshell like that. He realizes that his mouth had dropped open as his line of dialogue was unceremoniously shut down. His voice catches in his mouth before he clears his throat to respond.

[TG]: So uh… How are you holding up? Y’know with all this crazy shit going on, like with the Trolls and the whole dying thing-

[CC]: Did I ever tell you about the time I tried to kill myself?

Suddenly Dave is very aware of the location this conversation is taking place in, and mentally notes just how close to the edge of the meteor they’re sitting. A very loud little voice in his brain is rattling the bars of its enclosure and yelling at him to grab hold of his friend very firmly and drag them into the housing block. He nods mutely instead for them to continue speaking.

[TG]: no…? I uh, I feel like Id remember something like that man- Uh wheres this going- or like coming from? Like not to sound like a total douche wipe but-

[CC]: I was around 10 I think. I don’t exactly remember but it was definitely a good few years after the move.

Dave is pretty sure he can see Percy’s shoulders shaking, can hear just the faintest tremble in his voice. Unconsciously he’s scooted a little closer to him and has his arms hovering around his frame which seems so small. The Percy he knows is larger than life despite his stature, but now he looks so frail, staring off into the void like Dave doesn’t even exist.

[CC]: My brother had just gone on a business trip i think, or maybe he was on his way home from one? Who cares, he was never around and that was sort of the fuckin’ problem.

[CC]: I don’t really remember a lot from the night before i tried it, you know the whole Big Sleep thing, except that maybe i had talked to you for a little while

[CC]: but I definitely remember calling my brother and trying to ask him to come home early from whatever bullshit work trip he was on.

[CC]: you know, to take care of his younger fucking brother like he said he would when he moved us all the way into the middle of frozen fucking nowhere

Percy grips his knees so hard his knuckles are white, the fabric of the borrowed sweat pants bunched up in his fingers to a degree that Dave is worried that he’s going to tear a hole in them.

[CC]: when he said no like he always did i remember being so angry

[CC]: I had threatened to do something drastic but it was mostly just a lash to try and get it in his head i needed him home.

[CC]: the thing that put the real nail in the coffin so to speak is when he’d just said, “And what? Put all my work to waste?”

[CC]: I remember that fucking sentence like he said it yesterday, and you know what?

[CC]: I DID want to waste his fucking effort, I WANTED that pretentious PRICK to understand that his work? His talents? Didn’t matter.

Ok its official Dave wants to throw up. Jesus Christ on a fucking saltine what the fuck. He finally commits to putting his arms around them, one around his back the other on his knee over his trembling hands. Hell he thinks his own hands might be shaking.

[CC]: So that night after i hung up on him i grabbed every bottle of pills i could find and slammed them back with a bottle of my brothers shitty whiskey that he thought he kept hidden well enough

[CC]: and then for good measure I locked myself in the bathroom and sat back to wait

Percy turns to look at him finally, eyes welled up with tears, glasses foggy.

[TG]: Dude- Percy I’m so-

[CC]: and you know the worst part Dave? I think the worst fucking part of that entire shit storm? I didn’t even fucking think to tell YOU!

The silence returns. Percy looks way again, looking out into the Furthest Ring over his knees. Dave finally properly settles up into giving Percy a proper hug. Its the most awkward affair in the history of fucking existence, but that very loud little voice would not be silenced on the matter. He’s so unsure what to say until he isn’t.

[CC]: not you, not John, not Jade, not even fucking Rose even though I think she would’ve been obnoxious about the whole fucking debacle, calling it a- a fucking cry for help or attention or SOMETHING- god I’m probably not giving her enough credit I know she means well but god.

[CC]: course it didn’t work obviously, but when I woke up in the morning in bed with a vicious fucking hangover my brother was passed out in a chair next to me so I guess that counts for something

He pauses, feeling his breath catching in his throat, but persists nonetheless, giving the boy a squeeze, maybe a touch too hard given the soft whimper he hears.

[TG]: when uh… I found you washed up on that beach, I think it was like… the scariest fucking thing I’d ever experienced.

[TG]: like hands down, I don’t think anything is going to top seeing your corpse half hanging out of the water like that. And sure like, I knew you were going to be fine, probably, but I don’t think I was really aware of that.

He hears and feels Percy chuckle wetly in his arms, a sure sign that his rambling tendencies are good for something at least. He feels himself smile and presses on through the shitty maze that made up his train of thought.

[TG]: I don’t think I’ve ever really told you how important you are to me man-

[TG]: like

[TG]: I don’t really know where id be without you

[TG]: and thats really hard to admit dude- like for real I don’t mean that metaphorically

[TG]: or rhetorically

[TG]: or figuratively or even as like, an allegory- that makes no goddamn sense but you get the idea

[TG]: I care about you a whole fucking lot Percy, and thats saying something coming from me

[TG]: not to sing my own praises from high fucking heaven or anything but Im sort of a big deal- like the coolest mother lover on this side of anywhere ever contrived by man

His train of thought derails when Percy shifts in his grasp to wrap his arms around his middle and bury his face into his neck. He feels the tears seeping into his shitty cape, and feels Percy’s glasses get pushed up off of his nose. When his body finally gets the message that he should probably adjust his arms he flails around desperately for a good few seconds unsure of where to put them, before finally settling on wrapping them around the Page’s neck and shoulders. Something about the position feels natural and easy, like this is the easiest thing he’s ever done, easier than breathing. He heaves out a sigh when he realizes he hadn’t been and on a vaguely selfish impulse he buries his own burning face into Percy’s hair, his shades getting pushed up onto his head. The way they fit together makes his stomach ache again, makes him feel giddy, like he never wants to be separated from this ever. Like he’d rather die.

[TG]: I guess what I mean to say is because you matter so much to me that you’re like, honorarily the second coolest guy in existence

[TG]: like you just won the coolness lottery

[TG]: passed Go collected 200 dollars

[TG]: collected every red coin in the mushroom kingdom

[TG]: is this fucking anything? I feel like im saying words but nothing of actual for real substance is being said

[TG]: like a broken record or something over here

[TG]: the point is getting away from me but you get what im putting down right? This making any sens- ohgodok-

Cool. Cool. Dave is going to fucking explode he swears to any god that exists. He’s not even sure he heard that right, but he feels his body tighten his hold on Percy like a vice, he’s not even sure if Percy cares either because he feels their hands grip the fabric of his cape tighter in response.

[CC]: Dave I wanna live.

Holy goddamn fucking shit. Hell yes. Hell fucking yes. Wait what.

[CC]: I want to live so bad Dave- and not even just because dying for real scared me so fucking bad.

[CC]: I think I want to live for you.

[CC]: I think I love you, Dave.

Dave pulls away and grips Percy by the shoulders, not even bothering to push his shades back down, squinting in the void light at his tear stained face.

[TG]: wait what- like

[TG]: hang on wait

[TG]: wait wait wait

Percy kisses him. On the mouth. Dave is pretty sure he can hear the windows 97 dial up tone because good fucking god his brain is empty. Every single thought completely out the window. Back flipped gracefully out off the goddamn handle. The page leans back to look at him again.

[TG]: I gotta make sure I heard that right and I’m not like

[TG]: hallucinating big time or something

[TG]: like I gotta make sure I didn’t just die 2 seconds ago and I’m dreaming or something

[TG]: you what?

[CC]: well… I don’t think you’re dead anymor-

With said thoughts out the window like that he doesn’t even know where the hell he gets the idea to kiss him back, but it comes anyway and he does it. It feels so correct, like the powers of narrative causality nudged them towards this eventuality, like an inevitability. He feels hands come up to hold his face, one of them gingerly pulling his shades out of his hair and setting them aside, not that it matters. His own hands shift to rest tentatively at Percy’s sides and it feels like an overstep somehow, but the Page doesn’t seem to mind. He wishes that he didn’t need to breathe ever again, but they pull away from each other anyhow. Dave feels his nerves buzzing under his skin, his fingers fidgeting and tapping at Percy’s waist. They stay in each other’s space for a good moment, foreheads pressed together and breathing the same air, until something in Dave’s brain regains sentience again and hes fumbling with his arms like an idiot before he covers his mouth with a hand and avoids eye contact like the plague.

Percy laughs at him and honest to god its the single greatest sound he’s ever heard, the fucking ironic sound board air horns don’t even come close.

[TG]: wow

[TG]: cool

[TG]: cool cool cool

[TG]: uh sorry I guess I just had to double check

[TG]: that I hadn’t died or whatever

[CC]: well the results are in captain, you’re certainly still in front of me and quite monochromatic

If his face got any warmer he thinks its going to catch fire or something this is fucking ridiculous. He finally looks up at Percy over his hand still firmly pressed into his mouth, and despite the embarrassment he can feel himself grinning like the world’s biggest idiot.

They laugh again. Good god what he would give for a microphone and tape recorder.

[TG]: uh in case it wasn’t very clear

[TG]: I think I love you too

[TG]: or whatever

[TG]: well no not whatever just

[TG]: god this is so uncool of me

[TG]: I don’t have an ironic joke to make about this

[TG]: this is just pure unadulterated straight unfiltered inelegant brain rot

[CC]: well done Casanova really getting the message across.

The Page reaches out towards him again and Dave doesn’t waste a second enveloping him into another crushing hug. Without the hindrance of his shades in the way he fully hides his face into Percy’s hair, and not to be one of those weirdos, but he breathes in a deep sigh and savors the soft smell in his nose. He wishes he could bottle it up like a shitty cologne or something equally embarrassing.

They stay out there like that for what feels like forever, Dave’s pretty sure he could probably fall asleep like that. Its not until a familiar grating voice cuts through the moment like a katana from the fucking dollar store on a discount.

[TG]: for real man…

[TG]: the feeling is very mutual.

[TG]: like you have no idea…

With that Karkat turns on his heels and storms back inside muttering under his breath irately. The two of them take a moment to process what exactly he had just said before the sentences finally arranged themselves into some semblance of order and slammed true like a semi-truck. They burst into an uncontrollable fit of laughter, each clinging to the other for support before they can straighten up properly.

[CG]: THERE YOU ASSWIPES ARE I’VE BEEN TRYING FIND YOUR DUMB ASSES ALL MORNING

[CG]: ABOUT FUCKING TIME YOU GOT YOUR HEADS OUT OF THE PROVERBIAL FUCKING SAND AND SEALED THE DEAL ON THE MOST OBVIOUS FUCKING CHILDHOOD FRIENDS TO LOVERS CLICHE I’VE EVER GODDAMN SEEN

[CG]: NOW WILL YOU GET YOUR ASSES INSIDE? KANAYA SAID THAT ROSE IS DONE MAKING LUNCH AND I SURE AS HELL AM NOT WAITING FOR YOU TWO TO FINISH COPULATING OR WHATEVER IT IS YOU’RE DOING I’M STARVING.

They untangle their limbs from each other and stand up, Percy handing back Dave’s shades as the Knight stretches and cracks his back. He slips them back on his face with a smile. His heart feels light for the first time in a long time. As they start to head back inside he finds himself reaching for Percy’s hand, a gesture that they reciprocate as they grab hold of his own. This is the single coolest thing in the history of ever. If he notices any of their meteor-mates staring no he doesn’t.

[CC]: I guess we should go huh?

[TG]: yeah

[TG]: wouldn’t want Karkat to have a fucking aneurysm waiting on us

[xx-psych0-rabbit-xx]

i really honestly feel like that a lot of the criticism towards susie isnt justified. the capitalism stuff, sure, but she gets waaayyy too much flak for the mecha knight thing.

TBH i kind of want someone else other than susie should try to turn meta knight into a robot. just to see if they'd get hated on for it.

imagine if magolor were to do it. would he get scrutinized for it? or would people try to go through hoops to say it's okay if he does it, it was only bad when susie did it?

i already do sense some double standards in the fandom tho.....

you see the issue is i cannot for the life of me understand this beyond "susies a girl, and because of that shes the devil for hurting the fan favorite guy", disliking her bc of the theme? sure! completely fair! believing she could have been better redeemed? i can see a point! misunderstanding her for a while due to SAs translation completely changing what her recent goals are implied to be? very understandable they fucked her updated character up there

but no, what people get irrationally angry about is she happened to pick meta knight and how DARE she do that to poor meta knight?!

but...thats where my confusion is, if ANY other character had done that to MK theyd not get backlash for it, itd be an angsty meta knight moment for fans theyd absolutely ADORE and theyd form opinions on whoever did it for the character they are (see:every dedede possession, barely see anyone even acknowledge who did it that much, its about dedede being affected w the culprit being disregarded), not for who they happened to use for the "puppet" role, susie.is not allowed this, shes the girl who hurt meta knight, multiple peoples entire opinions of her revolve around the fact she roboticized meta knight (remember btw.he was LITERALLY fine.theres nothing implying this was painful and he recovered extremely quickly) susie is not allowed to be anything but a massive bitch who hurt poor fan favorite meta knight

and dude i just.dont get it, i dont get why its so comically common for fandoms wide to be overly harsh forming opinions on the girls, giving them absolute hell for things theyd absolutely praise men for doing, id understand if it was implied to be awful for MK or if someone just doesnt like him being in bad situations, but no, if ANY male villain did that ppl would be going over the moon they got juicy meta knight angst and a cool other guy, is overly judging female characters so inherent in peoples brains this is subconscious?? its just.so fucking insane to me.i literally cannot understand this

heck everytime ive seen ppl talk abt the stuff w fecto forgo trying to possess meta knight its just as i said itd go (forgo is either genderless or non binary, for note.so rly further proof the issue is susies a girl) its abt the experience being bad for MK, not abt how the one who did it is an horrible being, its.so fucked up susie is not even allowed to be disliked because of her own character, its because she hurt a man so shes the actual devil for doing that

TL DR please hate susie at least because of her whole character and not because she happens to be a girl who hurt a man (basically ask yourself:if she were a guy or enby, would you still be this angry about that? if not, reconsider if youre not being subconsciously biased to see her as way worse because shes a woman.if yes lmao relax youre being normal and just dont like your favorite being hurt)

[dappersautismcreature]

hey sorry this is super outta nowhere but i was scrolling thru the mcytconfessions blog n saw you saying youre a wilbur hater and im genuinely curious as to why?

this isnt me waiting to like. white knight him and bite your face off btw. i like wilbur but this *is* genuine curiosity pls dont be afraid lmfaoksdsdfkhf

ah yeah, sorry nonnie, and no worries. sorry for the rant ahead i just wanna lay it all out.

listen, its pure vibes, i dont really have an explanation for it. i liked him just generally for a while, but i watched a video where he talked about american gun control and it just came off super uck to me. like, a lot of british lefties have this weird thing where they will assume americans are all stupid just for kicks when we've actually been indoctrinated to think the way we do. i guess i just dont like seeing brits have political takes that are just pure "america needs to get its shit together" cause yeah bro we know, focus on whatever the fuck is up with ur government please. I feel like if i talked politics with wilbur soot he would be condescending as shit and basically explain to me what socialism is or whatever when its like, dude,, please. british lefties think they know more than the average young american, which is most of the time not true, or not something to insult someone over. (this is also because he reminds me of a shitty ex friend who was in the states for AMERICAN STUDIES but would just talk on and on and on about how dumb americans were -___-)

and its more than that, i never get idolization of people, like, online people. the closest ive come to it was technoblade maybe? gtws is pretty awesome too, bbh is low level idolization maybe. so it weirds me out when people are just in awe over him, makes my instincts go wild. im really not accusing him of anything, i know this is just the silly brain reacting silly. it just weirds me out. his fans do not know him, nobody's fans know the person, and yet they act like they do, and like he's gods gift to leftism and queerness when he is,, a cishet maybe-aro upperclass man from britain. nothing against him really.

oh, and his fans tick me off because theyre ALWAYS inserting him into things and just. listen, i dont like having to scroll through tons of wilbur fics in the qsmp tag when im just trying to get to some badboyhalo or etoiles centric fics. the man has been on the qsmp for like less than a week of playtime and he's the fourth most tagged character on the qsmp ao3 tag.

not to mention he gets dragged into other plots like "what if this actually happened to wilbur!" or "yeah but what if wilbur was there!" or my most hated "cant wait till this character meets wilbur because i cannot enjoy this media (which is about finding and enjoying a bunch of ccs) if it doesnt have my guy in it!" like i get it, you have a hyperfix or a special interest, ive been there, but maybe then go watch stuff he's actually in, instead of forcing him into a plot he really isnt that big a part of anymore.

people also praised his dsmp writing when it was,, average at best. honestly i think bbh's and the eggpire's writing did way more for the dsmp because they actually tried to include other people in the plot as much as possible, instead of just writing for you and a few of your friends. imo, c!wilbur was an ok character, like, nothing bad, but nothing extraordinary for me. utah is death, ok buddy got it, wow, insane. yeah yeah we've all been to the soul sucking pit of utah, haha i get it. << this is just pure salt ignore that lmao

oh and lovejoy didnt fuckin invent political indie rock, people need to get over themselves on that one.

so yeah, its just a thing of, i cant really bring myself to like him. the brain goes wonky when he's around. kinda wish i didnt like, get angry when he's on screen but idk i cant really stop myself. nothing againstt you if you like him, ill usually tag anyy wilbur neg with #wilbur crit so if you wanna mute that tag. i dont post it too often tho.

[milo-is-rambling]

Getting too high and having to make a choice between no light in the bathroom (okay. I will admit there is a night light. I am not ashamed.) and getting anxious of the dark or bright brain buzzy ceiling light or mirror light like oughhhh it’s so bad. It’s either spooky gross dark where you’re grossed out by bug and brother hair pile potential bc he showered earlier and he is a yucky dude in his mid twenties with long hair and a beard to trim and so he leaves hair EVERYWHERE and the bathroom is SO SMALL and it makes me SO ANNOYED. But it’s fine. If I ever talk about it with him he would be like ugh. Eye roll. Get over it. I’d tell my mom about it for the millionth time and she would say yeah i don’t care solve it between yourselves and my brother and I are both stubborn and so he just wouldn’t clean and eventually I would do it when we have a guest or I get too sick of seeing hair tumbleweeds flying across the bathroom floor (AND THE LIVING ROOM. LIKE LITERALLY. THEY TUMBLE OFF HIS HEAD AND ROAM THE HOUSE LIKE ITS ON AN ADVENTURE AND IT DRIVES ME CRAZY BUT I DONT WANT TO PICK UP HIS NASTY HAIR BALL BC I ALREADY HAVE TO FUCKING SNAKE HIS HAIR OUT OF ALL THE BATHROOM DRAINS LIKE ONCE A MONTH ITS AWFUL anyways. I chose sitting in the dark on the edge of the tub and I moved the wet bathmat against the wall to deal with later. At some point. Honestly maybe after I get over the too high anxiety headache nausea thing I’ll deep clean the bathroom and play my music on a little speaker and just like. Exist happily and tell my brother to shut up bc I am going to clean so shhhhhhhhhhhhhhh about the music please and thank you I can’t wear wired headphones while scrubbing and i don’t have Bluetooth ones anymore since one of my AirPods broke and I never got it fixed and then I got anxious about Bluetooth not connecting and then my dad died so I got his big over ear headphones that I cherish SO MUCH hey remember the other day when (honestly can’t remberr if I posted this or put it in my journal but) I said that everything always leads back to grief in my brain and that’s why everything feels so abundantly challenging is bc this grief takes over my life in the smallest ways when I’m left to think I mean I’m typing rapid fire high thoughts bc that’s what this blog is but like this is five minutes of thinking yknow left alone in my head it just comes back to grief and like idk it’s just wild.

[ryttu3k]

A selection of moments from my last session/s of Tavias' run. All spoilery for endgame. Image-heavy, used all 30 image slots.

"When I said I wanted to get more in touch with my draconic ancestry, this was not what I had in mind."

This is an interesting example because Tavias was in this situation. Two days ago. And his exact response was, "Actually, I would rather die than become a monster under a more powerful being's thrall."

Not capped: *gross sobbing over Dear Ansur*

Not capped: Just for the record, the line that officially pushed Astarion from approval 99 to approval 100 was:

Halsin: "Perhaps you'd care for a little extra company..."

Tavias: "The more the merrier!"

Astarion: *approves*

(I hc he's quietly nursing a raging crush on Halsin and the V relationship absolutely has the potential to turn into a full triangle, and not just because I'm hopeless for Halstarion.)

I really wish you could talk to Astarion about this later. I'm very glad you can talk to Halsin, but this should be addressed too! I'm glad he feels confident and safe enough to push his own boundaries, I just really wish we could like... check in on him and make sure he's doing okay. See also: helping Halsin recognise that what happened to him was trauma.

Seven years too late (he was seventeen years old, Ulder), but finally some parental approval!

<3

Not capped: the forehead touch after the kiss with Halsin is. Goddamn adorable ;_;

Genuinely motivational tbh

This is what we call an, "Ah fuck" moment.

Okay so. Orin basically saved the world.

Like obviously the Brain breaking free from the influence of the crown is a bad thing. But consider the alternative - a Brain who willingly follows the Dark Urge. A Brain who doesn't rebel, that rebellion leading to its ultimate downfall. A Brain who does follow the Dark Urge is a Brain in a world where Bhaal wins.

But Orin was jealous. Orin wanted her father's love. Orin attacks her sibling, and that sibling wakes up and goes, actually, you know what? I don't think I do want to be Bhaal's puppet for the rest of my existence, and the world is saved.

Dude there are plenty of other options that don't involve that. What is wrong with you.

Not capped: Beorn Wunterbrood being like, "Balduran's grace be with you" and Tavias just going, "......yeahhhhh haha about that, there's a non-zero chance we're gonna have to kill Balduran. Just. Just so you know."

You got it, boss. #ResistDurgeIsChosenOfJergalTruther

Not capped: "I always dreamed of walking these halls, you know. My dreams never included a giant brain or smoldering ruins, but I'll take what I can get~" I <3 him what a goddamn dork.

Not capped: you know this is the part where I'd have to be like. Yeah you guys go ahead. Yeah I'm gonna sit this one out. Why? Well, do I look like I can climb the giant squishy completely vertical tube while it actively tries to fly? No no if someone can teleport me up I can fight but otherwise I may have to sit this one out.

For the first time... quiet at last.

Oh this shit hurts ;_;

He chose against apotheosis this time <3 I can only surmise that what happened in Tae's run was that saying, no, fuck Mystra, you don't owe her anything, made him decide to act against her? This is still... not necessarily a great ending for Gale, because it still requires capitulating to the desires of his abuser, even if it does mean being free of the Orb (and not becoming Cringegod(tm). It's the best possible ending for him, yes, but I wish there was an option for him to acknowledge that what Mystra did to him was awful and he didn't deserve to be treated like that, and be able to reject the Crown.

Not capped: still! goddamn! hate! how Astarion running from the sun is almost played for laughs! I got Gale's line in this one and hearing how dismissive and flippant it is compared to what'll be the new line, where he sounds genuinely horrified and worried and openly states they'll need to be a good friend to him and offer him comfort, is... god. Dramatic difference. "Welp, that's the last we'll see of him!" that original line is so wrong ;_;

Glad she was able to make the decision herself. Forcing her just feels wrong.

I like this <3 Halsin still carries out his dream, but the relationship doesn't end, it's just. Long-distance, haha.

It's interesting how this plays out if you do Halsin poly, because it has the scene of Halsin waking up next to the PC, they talk about where things go, they walk off hand in hand... then it has the scene of Astarion waking up next to the PC, they talk about... etc XD I'd love if they included a poly option with all three of them, so you can get just the Halsin one, or just the Astarion one, or one where you talk to both at the same time. IIRC the only relationships where you can do Halsin poly is with Astarion or Shadowheart, so that's only two extra scenes they'd have to work out! It just feels a bit awkward as it is, with both scenes playing one after the other?

Anyway. The Astarion scene <3 This is the bit where I got all misty-eyed because. The reflection of, "What do you want?" "You. I want... you", and the beautiful Durge-specific line of being able to choose family... ;_;

They absolutely get together while in Avernus <3

Final decisions: Orpheus requests a merciful death, which Tavias provides. Lae'zel chooses to go to war. Gale returns the crown to Mystra. Wyll offers to accompany Karlach to Avernus, and she chooses to accept. Halsin goes to start a new community for those in need, with his relationship with Tavias continuing. Tavias and Astarion stay together and look for a way for Astarion to walk in the sun again.

There will be a separate post just for the epilogue, once I sort the, uh, 723 screencaps I took for it!

[multifandomfreak]

Spoilers for TheInvisibleDavis's SCP Series

As someone who is about 3/4 through season one ish, its pretty good so far. With it being a minecraft rp, things are very aprofessional and the editor just doesnt give a flying fuck. Sometimes the bg music is way to loud, sometimes the plot is interrupted by someone needing to leave. They can take it out, but they just don't, and its incredibly frustrating. I don't love it, but like, its investing, the drama is solid, and scps are really cool.

Onto the characters themselves:

Davis- He's cold and bitter, seems to deny any sort of positivity, and is all around a bitch. He complains about pretty much anything, and I understand where he's coming from in his situation, but g o d it can get annoying. But he also has his reasons. His ability causing him to remember how he dies every time he comes back, there is an insane amount of horror this man has seen. Hes died from both scps and people over and over again. He's taken advantage of his ability and will try time and time again under the idea he can get what he wants in the end. He's become pretty messed up and depressed in this state. He's either used or waiting to be used and he will do anything to get out. A total badass, but like I get tired of him complianing. Like dude you have a bed. remember being D-class? Yeah fuckin' appreciate it before its gone and you're back at square one. You don't have to pretend to be happy, just value what you got.

And with his trust issues, he can never see the good in the people he's working with (Kat SHE DESERVES BETTER) and its both his and the foundation's fault for this. Kat had to treat him like an experiment. She had to treat d-class like that, but Davis didn't get that. He still doesn't because he REFUSES to believe any of the researchers no matter how much integrity they show. Kind of silly and annoying of him, but thats kinda how trauma works.

I also forgot to mention I really liked him early on. He was like this angry lil guy who was pissed in his circumstance. His ability was rediscovered after those anesthetics messed with his brain. The atmosphere was great. These solitary rooms as Davis sees just how large this place is in his attempts to break free. The endless staircase and the meat room were probably my favorite parts of pre-scp Davis. I liked the mystery of that a lot.

After that its just been moments where there isn't much horror to it, but the angst is really good sometimes.

Once he found out he was a father, that frustration I had with him has lessened, given that kid is the one thing that makes him happy in this personal hell of his. And he only got to see the kid once and since hes been transparent about that. The thing is the foundation doesn give a fuck, so Harkmann and Kat had to put in work just to get it to happen. Again, Davis just doesn't think they care. I think I just want him to be a better person... and like maybe his son will do that. That'd be very sweet.

I also find it funny that Davis's self insert is a jacked badass who cannot die.

Kat- I like her. I didn't have much to say about her for a good chunk of the series, but she's the embodiment of "trying her best :'(" Shes new to her job, she just wants to help people, and shes gone through some awful stuff. For one, shes had to live through some horrific events. Containment breaches, held at gunpoint, stalked to the point where she couldn't stay in her own home, and kidnapped by that Cain cult. She lies that her kindness is for the complicity of Davis. That's just... tragic. At least she has a good relationship with Dr. Harkmann.

SPEAKING OF:

Dr. Harkmann- He's complicated for me. On one hand he came off as pretty kind and thoughtful of his fellow researchers, but if you get on his bad side, he can be brutal. That's sounds cool, but it hurts from the fact Davis had to go through some more torture after he blackmailed the foundation and Kat's life. He got pretty protective of her and goes pretty easy on her compared to the other colleages. It's not out of sexism so I respect that greatly. But kinda like Davis he can be a bitch. He feel like he has to put on this mask to be a cold and collected scientest and see any SCP as an experiement, no matter the sentience. He was also kind of taught to be that way. Idk his story is cool, I'm just not a big fan of who he is.

Reggie- Not enough screentime or standout scenes to form an opinion. He developed a hatred for Davis after... something went wrong. 99% sure it was the gunpoint situation, but it could have also been the time he knew he was killed. The time where- idk he was pretty chill but I just kind of stopped caring about him after some time I was watching.

Uh anyways. Good series. Lotta bad pacing (imo) so I get bored easily. 3/4 of them need therapy. Kat just got to see a therapist from where I'm at.

And otso, almost forgot him. Ill talk about him when im more awake im stupid tired.

[buntress]

HEHEHEHHEE YES OKAY OKAY SO

danny canonically (well, canon enough, it was a remark from the developers) has npd right. and I have hpd and bpd and they share a lot of symptoms, being cluster b personality disorders and all. so I can proudly say

that man has awful identity issues. he spent so long pretending to be other people for praise, attention and safety that he has no idea who "Danny Johnson" is at all. sometimes he isn't even sure he's actually human. he likely dissociates a lot. he only really thought about it a while after he got taken by the entity, seeing there isnt anything to do outside of trials hes likely been in his own mind most of the time.

he may act buddy-buddy with them as a sort of second nature but he's really insecure with himself and so manifests it as hatred for other killers. (it may also be the 'canon' reason ghostface players tend to be very chill with survivors, despite him being a misanthrope. he feels safer with them because he has the cloak of superiority and being a threat with them which he doesnt have with the killers ykyk) after all he's just an average guy with a knife and knowledge on stalking, hes not overly strong without the entity's help, or tall, or supernatural in any way. to him his "backstory" isnt even bad as any of the other killers, to him at least. (it definitely was, man was literally groomed to be a murderer by his dad. but your trauma never looks as bad as the other people's you know)

also hes FTM and was 3 years on T up until he got taken by the entity (his body time kinda paused after that so he didnt revert to being feminine dw). he still has a set of tits and a coochie because in his words "surgery recovery is a waste of time, it will get suspicious if ghostface goes silent for 6 whole months" :3 he's happy with his body though... mostly. anyway thats the reason he's always hunching during trials. cant wear a binder during a chase thatd be inconvenient (please imagine a ghostface coughing and wheezing and begging the survivors to wait for him now. thank you)

he's still silly, a little clumsy but its one of the things he's less insecure about tbh. an all serious ghostface is not fun and not what wes craven would want.

anyway I need him to get a therapist so bad. bbygirl dw you wont lose your spark the spark in question is you dissociating for hours at a time on your apartment bed having a barbie movie moment like "what was I made for..." therapy will help you babygirl I promi-

THESE ARE ALL SUCH FUCKING GOOD HEADCANONS OKOKOK SO

to share my own while i am at it Teehee (i love him so much)

I def agree on the dissociation and fucked up sense of identity, mans is a messed up lil fuck and def needs to go see an entity ordered therapist. I personally def put Danny on the aro spectrum (i dont think ace personally, aroallo moment imo) though i think more on the demi or greyaro side, and if any of the survivors are ever like, flirty he just stares at them and slowly shakes his head because oh no babygirl one thats a bad idea to try and do and two you are not the person my brain has made an exception for thats for fucking sure

(I'm demiromantic myself so I describe it like that bc im basically aromantic until my brain makes an Exception(tm))

Alsoalsoalso very down for him not being friends with the other killers bc hatred and lowkey jealousy but I think he looks at the legion kids and is like "Cool, I'm your uncle now." because they're the only ones like him at all, just normal dudes even smaller than he is because theyre basically just fucked up teenagers so he feels a slight kinship and he definitely doesn't play favorites at all (this is a lie Suzy is his perfect little baby and he goes full cool uncle mode with her 100% all the time)

Also Also because self shipping noises when/if a survivor or killer (im using survivor mostly bc that's where I see myself self insert wise) does catch his interest in a romantic he genuinely just fucking panics and doesn't know what the fuck to do about it. He fumbles with them a lot and suddenly most of his smooth and cool dude exterior? Gone. Vanished. Fumbling even more than usual and it makes him SO MAD so he just.......threatens them a lot and hooks them a lot because fuck you stop making me feel things i hate you but also please just like hold my hand or something what the fuck

When finally the survivor is like DUDE WHAT THE FUCK IS YOUR DAMAGE and blows up on his ass he's like IDK MAN YOU GIVE ME BIG FEELINGS AND I DON'T LIKE IT COULD YOU STOP MAYBE????

anyways when that shits sorted I imagine it being a mutual (healthy) obsession thing where Danny treats his partner like they're the entity incarnate and partner does similar for him and everyone is disgusted by it but at least everytime partner is around in trials he's nice to them so like they can't complain.

If it was a killer though they would become absolute terrors and no one would be safe ever. Skip through the moldy corn fields holding hands kinda shit. Absolute fucking idiots.

(Also at one point he tries to give partner a bouquet of flowers except it was like 4 dandelions and a leaf and he ate one of the dandelions)

Anyways I love Danny Johnson I am kissing him on the mouth

[threpticfangs]

I just watched episodes 1-4 of season 15 and i have. conflicting feelings.

what and i emphasize, the fuck, just happened.

i feel like an entire half a season was just crammed in my brain an i dont like it. i wont say it was bad and ill probably feel better than i do now on a rewatch but uhhhhhhh what.

I definitely feel like ghost-pocalypse was... idk what it was, save for one thing: REALLY BRIGHT. like im not mad that it was daytime but geez it was bright. I was also not really digging the effects very much but i'm kinda picky so its whatever.

Now for my thoughts as i wrote them down:

"He was our kid. Kinda." yk what dean im just happy you said it outloud

"Even the cage?" Oh for FUCKS SAKE

As per a vid i sent my sister: "Not to sound insane but im gonna start hyperventilating. What do you mean Black Eyed Sam?? we havent seen that sice s4!"

He (Sam) looks so PANICKED!!

Cas is LEGIT PANICKED!!

YIPPEEEE THEY SAID THE LINE!!!!

So i had paused it to freak out about "we got work to do" JUST BEFORE ITS SWITCHED TO 2005 AND!!! THE SCREAM I LET OUT AT 1AM!!!

The title card is so ominous!!!

"We are." YYYYYYYYEEEEEEEESSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Rowena's tryna get some!!!! I LOVE HERRRR. ooo Ketch I see youuuu. Not what i was expecting but hey

KEVIIIIIN! He got done so dirty, i love when he gets to show up

I have two screens worth of ranting about the way some things happen but i am a civil individual. mostly mad bc it kinda feels like everyone's been hit with the incompetence beam. And Sam's still gotta kill Rowena somehow

"That's the longest you've ever looked me in the eyes :)"

"YOU DON'T HAVE EYES."

I think this is how Rowena dies

Aw damn, Ketch

MY WIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIFFFFFFFEEEEEE (im not talking about Sam believe it or not)

DEAN YOU FUCKING IDIOT DO NOT YOUR HUSBAND WALK OUT THAT DAMN DOOR

YOU FUUUUCK

THE DEAN I SAW HAD A BEARD I DIDNT MAKE THAT UP

its gotta be a vision or smth

Im sure everythings fine, its a good! Just Dean going John Wick on some motherfuckers. This does not make up for e2

DUDE IM LITERALLY KICKING MY FEET EXCITED HOLY SHIT!

bENNY?!?!

OH SHIT OH SHIT OH SHIIIIIT

Theres no way thats Apocalypse Dean because he doesn't exist! And he just killed demons with his gun which means those are likely melted down angel blade bullets. What IS HAPPENING

KING OF HELL SAM MAYBE???

WHAT DO YOU MEAN SIOUX FALLS??? BOBBY????

THE DEMON BLOOD IS BACK??? BLOODFREAK SAM???

IM CRYIIIING DEAN GOT HIM VEGGIE BACONNNNNN!!!!!! WHY IS THAT SO SWEET TO MEEEEEEE

NOOOOOOO IT WAS REAL BACON :(((( dean stop calling yourself the meat man PLEASE

HOLY SHIT AM I LOSING IT OR IS THAT FUCKING BECKY???? KIDNAP SAM WINCHESTER BECKY????

EWWWWWWWW CHUCK SHOWED UP

Yo wait she got counseling!! Kinda proud of her! I still remember what you did but growth! we love to see it

AW WAIT GOOD FOR HER SHE WRITES THE CHILL FICS

I kinda want that sam fig :(

to summarize an entire page of ranting so i dont hav to put it here: CHUCK WHAT THE FUCK

Damn that kids got balls, holy shit

WHAT IF SAMS VISIONS ARE CHUCKS DRAFT????

WHERE IS HE PICKING BACK UP????

[rubyreduji]

I WAS GONNA PUT MY THOUGHTS IN THE TAGS BUT IT WAS TOO FUCKING LONG

right off the bat: i am OBSESSED with the way you use words (which you know) but your descriptions are so in depth and add such a good layer to the story, it's little stuff but it really changes the feel of the work

"you're nine years old and native but you are not dense" DAMN hit hard ngl

the reader is SO REAL OMG, mika one thing about you your readers will be the realest

EMAILS EXIST LMFAOOOOO

the reader's inner monologue is so funny

i still think josh's nickname for the reader should have been peasant

jihoon just existing lol

the little nuances of people judging the reader and her noticing, but not letting it get to her is so sfjdalkkl ARGH IT SO SAD BUT

and then her thinking about her past and then getting upset abot thinking about it

mika your brain is so hot

"this man is so weird" yeah <3

the friendships between seokmin and joshua andn seokmin and the reader are so cute

PERCY JACKSON REFERENCE OMG

the scene where the reader has to go back to the greenhouse and you write down a few paragraphs of her emotions is really nice because its a different pace than the dialogue and it highlights that section

they way you write their personalities and interactions actually pair so well with the background they come from like the thought put into this is gorgeous mika, seriously

i think it's very much a mother thing to do to be able to bring up bad things from the past easily and a very child thing to do to wonder why she can and still hold more of a grudge than the mom, i really like that detail

while we were talking about this fic you said you hoped people picked up on the little things you added and themes and stuff and im gonna be honest my reading comprehension isn't the best but i like the hyacinth motif it brings things more full circle even from the first scene

its also kinda like her past keeps coming up and she can't escape it because it's become such a big part of who she is

on top of all of the other actual themes of hyacinths

maybe im just saying shit tho idk like i said im kinda dumb

"If it is an explosive, you’ll just have to apologize to Jihoon in the afterlife." i laughed

THE PURPLE MOTIFS AS WELL (which tie into the hyacinths litearlly im sdjfksdasdfl MIKA)

NOW HOLD AWWNNNNN i did NOT connect the dots that seokmin was advisor lee's son (because the last name lee in korea is like fucking johnson in america like fsdjkadkfl IM SO SLOW)

but literally the whole description of that scene is heartbreaking and like the line of her being back in her nine year old body broke me

the change from shock to anger is SO GOOD and the emotions come through in your writing like i am feeling it with her

YOUR BEST FRIENDS AHHHHHHH SHE'S NEVE RHAD FRIENDS AND NOW FJSDLKA

i get why she's upset but its not joshua and seokmin's fault and like the whole situation is awful and heartbreaking and unfair

ahhh okay im glad her being upset didn't last too long, usual i'm on the petty train but im not that much of of a dick this time

the sun themes and joshua calling her sunshine like MIKA IM GONNA SOB

"“You’re not your father. I get it.” You get it more than anyone." AHHHHHHHHH

SHIT WAIT THE SUN AND THE HYACINTHS ALSO TIE IN TOGETHER BECAUSE OF APOLLO AND HYACINTHUS FUCK

dude your brain is insane

FUCK FUCK FUCK SHE'S RELIVING HER MOTHER'S PAST AND NOOOOO

THE ANGST THE DSFJKADSFKLKAL the quick pace of the scene between the reader and joshua is great because instead of having time to think they are just in the moment and you are living it with them

MIKA THESE FUCKING SCNES AND DESCRIPTIONS BACK TO BACK I SWEAR TO GOD IM GOING CRAZY THEY ARE SO FUCKING GOOD LIKE I DON'T HAVE ANY MORE WORDS BUT LIKE JUST KNOW I AM FREAKING OUT FROM HOW PERFECT YOU ARE

THEY SPENT SO LONG APART AND STILL LOVE EACH OTHER!!!!

SHE GOES BACK TO WORK FOR THEM BECAUSE SHE LOVES HIM, LOVE HAS CHANGED HER AND IF I FUCKIGN SOBBED

MIKA!!!!!! I- its fucking beautiful omg i know you put a lot into this work and it paid off its an AMAZING story and it didn't feel lik 26k words like i love it so much you will never not amaze me

ミღ isohel — h. joshua x reader

i·so·hel (noun) a line on a map connecting points having the same duration of sunshine

description. fairytales can be rather misleading, can't they? when you and your mother are ripped away from your life at the castle, you spend over a decade resenting the royalty. so naturally, when you find prince joshua at your doorstep, you’re more than eager to shut the door on him. but as your life takes twists and turns, you happen to find yourself in the arms of a man you never thought you'd have to see again.

genre. slowburn, modern royalty au, angst, fluff tags. prince!joshua, developing relationships, slut shaming, allusions / references to greek mythology, dialogue heavy, implied sex fic playlist w/c. 26.2k a/n. lwk don't like the beginning but i swear it gets better🙄 thank u @cheolhub for beta reading & @jeonghantis & @gyuswhore for reading it over and helping out w this bc i think i was going insane over this story by myself >_< ... i highly suggest listening to the song isohel by eden! it was a major inspiration for this whole story and i think it encapsulates the vibes really well c: hope u enjoy!

The sound of glass shattering isn’t foreign to your ears.

It’s common in the sweltering heat of the summer when the air is hot and sticky. Maids running around to tend to the evenings balls and parties only for the sweat to breach their fingers and suddenly their stack of fine china goes tumbling to the ground.

A bed of hyacinths sits in front of you as you bring up the hose and spray them down, watching through the tinted glass as two male helpers rush to the woman on the ground, quickly helping her clean up the shards of glass.

Turning your attention back to the plants in front of you, you turn the hose off and roll it back into the corner as you skip to the end of the greenhouse where there’s your mother’s desk space. It’s a measly little space but she hardly sits there anyways, always tending to the gardens in the courtyards, leaving the floral and herbal greenhouses under your care while she’s away.

After all, your mother is a gardener and botanist in the Hong palace, and having been a trusted employee for the past half decade since your father passed, she exudes the little privileges of getting to bring her daughter to work.

At least that’s what you think, because you’re only nine years old and naive.

She teaches you well—you’ve only been accompanying her on the weekends when you don’t have school, but you’ve already picked up on how to tell the differences between an infected plant and an unaffected one, the characteristics of a good caterpillar and the characteristics of a bad one, the exact amount you should water each species, and exactly when you should let the vapor run down.

It’s easy work, and you love it.

You love sitting at your mother’s desk and imagining what it’d be like to be her—successful and working in the castle, doing what you love instead of working some stupid nine to five. You love looking out the glass of the greenhouses every few moments when you pause reading your book. You love the rare moments when you get to lay your eyes on one of the members of the royal family walking by.

You’ve started to pick up on their characters in the small frame of time you get to see them when they pass by. The Queen has kind eyes, the King is a bit intimidating, and Prince Joshua … Prince Joshua has soft features you can’t quite read.

“He’s only a year older than you!” one of your friends from school said when you told her that you stayed at the castle during the weekends to help your mother. “You should marry him and become princess!”

You had to push her away and watch her disappointed eyes when you told her that you hardly get to see him for more than ten seconds, even on the rare occasions that he crosses your vision.

The sound of glass shattering isn’t foreign to your ears, but hearing it more than twice in one hour does have some alarms ringing in your head. When you glance back up at the window, time stops.

Your mother is on the ground. Limbs sprawled out with eyes wide in horror, she scrambles against the rough stone path as a man looms over her. He dons a deep purple robe—the kind that belongs to the advisors of the Court—and your young mind races through the possibilities of what warrants the disgusted look on his face.

“Sneaking around with royal blood. Who do you think you are?”

A man watches, dark and brooding from the corner, and then you recognize him. Advisor Lee. He stops by the greenhouses sometimes—a high advisor of the Counsel and distance relative of the King’s. You’re nine years old and naive, but you are not dense.

Something had happened between your mother and Advisor Lee. Something tells you it’s more than you can understand, but in this moment, you feel you understand perfectly.

“You whore,” the man in the dark robes spits out, punctuating his disgust with a stomp of his feet right by your mother’s leg.

You’re only nine years old, but that is old enough to know that that is not a nice word. Nine years old, and you know that that means a very bad thing. Nine years old and when you look at your mother’s grief stricken face, you are certain that everything is about to change.

Your house was always on the edge of the town. Before the affair between Advisor Lee and your mother, it was because she liked having the space to open a garden in your backyard. The city is crowded and full of bustling roads and buildings—it’s no fit for the small cottage that she wanted.

Now, after the affair, your house is on the edge of the town for a different reason.

The first day after your mother is fired from her position at the castle, you go to school with your head hanging low. It’s in the city, and for the first time in your five years of schooling, your mother tells you to go alone.

“I can’t—I shouldn’t drive you anymore,” she tells you as you pack your backpack. She walks you to the bus station and hands you a paper telling you which stop to get off at and how to walk to school from there.

You’re not sure what you’re expecting when you two walk up to the little stop by the street, but when you approach the small crowd of people waiting for the next bus to come in, their chatter hushes. Sparing glances at you and your mother, they whisper—some hushed, some blatant, some sad, some angry.

That’s where she stops and puts a heavy hand on your shoulder. “You can take it from here, yeah?” she asks, but you know it’s not really a question. Nodding, you slowly walk towards the crowd of people as the next bus parks in front of the stop.

You don’t turn around and look at your mother because you know that’d be a mistake. Instead, you let your neck droop, following the quiet crowd as they pile into the bus, clutching the strings of your backpack.

There aren’t any places to sit, so you reach for a pole but suddenly the bus starts and you lurch forward, falling to the ground. There’s black and brown dust on the palms of your hand as you push yourself up, no one saying a word or bothering to help as you keep your head down and grip onto a pole.

The knees of your stockings are dirtied, and it’s the only thing you look at the whole ride, it’s the only thing you look at when you silently take the walk to school, and it’s the only thing you look at when you make your way onto campus.

It’s the whispers again, and as you quietly sink into your normal seat, you hear them louder.

Did you hear about her mother? She isn’t allowed in the castle grounds anymore. What did her mother do? I can’t believe she showed up, I’d be crying at home. I wonder what she’s thinking—

Nothing. You think nothing when your teacher announces that class will be starting. All you focus on is the board and your notebook. You spend your recess and lunch at the school’s library, and as soon as the final bell rings, you scurry off campus and towards the bus station.

It isn’t like the morning—people don’t hush and stare, but nine years old is smart enough to know that it’s because they don’t know you’re your mother’s daughter. There aren’t any empty seats just like the morning but this time, a nice gentleman offers you his spot.

You can tell he isn’t so sure of his decision though, when you finally get off at your stop and you run off to your mother who’s waiting for you by the bench. From the corner of your vision, you watch the man through the bus window, jaw tight and gaze cold as he watches you slip your hand into your mother’s.

Your mother doesn’t talk on the short walk home. She doesn’t ask you about school and she doesn’t ask you about what the other kids said. You figure that she doesn’t need to hear it anyways, and so you purse your lips together.

You have a lot to get used to.

Your life doesn’t change much, and you get used to it.

School days are spent with your head buried in a new book with every break you have. Your time at home is nothing but studying and your mother teaching you how to tend to the garden in your yard.

Soon you are graduating and moving on with your life as you make the transition to college, although you can’t say much changes. You study, you read, and occasionally you commission a project. It’s usually just renovating a citizen’s yard, sometimes it’s designing a public garden, but it’s never anything too serious.

Right now, you’re perched on a wooden stool, elbows leaning on the counter as you swipe your thumb over your tongue to flip the next page of your book. The paper is worn through, soft under your touch as a show for all it’s been through—bought second hand from your boss.

Your boss is a kind old man who happened to be a friend of your late grandfather’s, and when his little bookstore was teetering on the edge of being forgotten, you couldn’t refuse the offer to step in to work.

You’re around halfway through the book when you hear the familiar ringing of the bell above the door, head snapping up only to see your boss at the front door with a few envelopes in one hand, a plastic bag in the other.

“Holding up the fort, I see,” he greets with a low chuckle as you stand up and walk over, taking the bag from his hand to help out.

“As always, Mr. Min,” you reply, setting the bag of books down on the counter. “Are these—”

“They’re your mothers. I was walking by your house this morning and she asked me to take these and add them to our stock, since she said she doesn’t need them anymore.”

“Huh,” you say softly, taking out the various books about plants. “Not sure how big the market for gardening books is anymore, but I’m sure I can add it to our catalog after hours today,” you mutter, setting them on the table behind the register as he places the letters in his hand.

“Your mother also told me to give you this,” he says, his tone an octave lower as he plucks out one the envelopes and hands it to you. You knit your eyebrows together, wiping your dusty hands down on your pants before taking a look at it. “It’s from—”

“The castle,” you whisper, holding the envelope closer to your face to make sure you’re seeing it correctly. “Oh my god—it’s from the castle.”

“Yeah. Must be important if your mom felt the need to send it through me instead of just waiting for you to come home and take a look at it.”

“A-are you sure this is meant for me?” you manage to ask, flipping the envelope over a few times to make sure you read your name correctly.

“Yup,” Mr. Min replies, pointing down at where the intended recipient is listed. Sure enough, it’s your name listed in dark and bold ink in one corner, and then there’s that stupid royal emblem of the sun in the other corner.

Your heart sinks to your stomach at the possibilities of what could be inside, raking your mind for an answer. Was something wrong? Was it about your mother? Or was this just some big mistake?

Dear Madam,

The Hong Royal Counsel wishes to find you well, as we present a request.

Your reputation with your mother’s work as well as the operation of your own gardens throughout the city, along with your academic achievements at our very own Hong University have reached our ears, and we believe you possess the skills required for a special project we have in mind.

You will have the opportunity to lead this project as you please and earn a notable financial sum in payment for your efforts.

Please indicate your acceptance by replying to this letter at your earliest convenience. We eagerly await your response and sincerely hope that you will be able to grace our kingdom with your talent and presence.

Thank you,

Hong Royal Counsel

You don’t have to read the letter more than once before you scoff, tossing the crisp paper and letting it drift down onto the counter before muttering under your breath, “Who do they think they are?” Crumpling the envelope and letter up, you throw it down into the trash can by your chair.

Knocks on your door aren’t normal. The delivery and mailmen know better than to do that, leaving your packages and mail by the doorstep and doing no more than that.

Knocks on your door usually mean Mr. Min is here for something—picking up some of the veggies your mother grew because the store prices are too high, dropping off a book, or indulging in some pleasantries and casual small talk.

It’s eight in the morning when you hear the soft rapping against your front door. Your mom is in the kitchen and your room, right next to the foyer, has walls thin enough to let the sounds through. You’re on your bed though, and it’s comfortable, warm, and it’s too early to be out and about anyways. You’ve just spent the past nine months laboring away at college, so you’re granting yourself these few moments of peace in the morning.

Pressing your head into the pillow, you try to drown out the noise of your mother conversing with Mr. Min this early in the morning. After you hear the door open, there’s a silence and for a moment, you think you’ve succeeded in plugging your ears well enough.

You’re about to smile to yourself and drift back into a heavy sleep before you hear a loud gasp.

It takes a lot to surprise your mother—you’ve come to learn that in recent years. It takes a lot to stun her, to have her gasp as you just heard. Scurrying out of bed, you press your ear against the wall in hopes to catch a glimpse of what’s going on.

All you hear is silence.

It hardly takes a second for you to shove off your blankets and throw yourself into the hallway, rushing towards the foyer where you see your mother standing in front of the open door. She stays unmoving and you wince for a few moments, eyes still adjusting to the morning light as you make your way closer to the door to see what exactly has her so shocked.

And then you catch it: a glint of that wretched, golden sun emblem stitched onto a purple velvet coat.

“What the f—”

Your mother’s hand flies up and grabs your wrist tightly. It’s the first time you see her move, and as she turns around to face you with dark, warning eyes, you press your lips shut as you glance over her shoulder. In front of your doorstep is a man you never thought you’d get to see in person again, not after that day.

Prince Joshua is just as handsome as the tabloids and social media make him out to be, and his presence in your life also seems to be equally infuriating.

“What is he doing here?” you hiss, pulling your mother closer to you so she’s close enough to hear you.

Her eyes are somber, and you silently wonder how she can be so calm, so docile, so—so tame. “They’re here for you,” she whispers, turning her whole body so her back faces the prince.

“What are you talking about? Why would—”

“The letter sent to you from the kingdom. I thought you told me it was a mistake.”

“It was,” you mutter, eyes glancing at Prince Joshua behind her. His gaze is averted, presumably out of respect for the conversation you’re having with your mother right now, but you can’t find it in yourself to appreciate him for it.

“Then why is he asking for your name?”

You gulp anxiously, eyes flickering between your mother’s eyes and the floor. “I don’t know.”

“Talk to him. It must be important,” she orders, walking forward and toward the kitchen and you grab her shoulder quickly.

“Are you kidding me? Why—why would I talk to him? Why would I talk to any of them?” you argue louder than you intended, and your mother swats your hand away sharply.

“They’re royalty,” she says, voice strained with caution.

“And? It’s not medieval times where they actually rule over us so—”

Your mother sighs heavily and then it hits you that no matter how much logic you try to expend, it’d be futile. “Talk to him. It isn’t quite like you have a choice.”

“You of all people shouldn’t put up with this,” you state and the second the words leave your lips, you regret it. Her face hardens and there’s a cold feeling that sinks in your stomach as she frees herself of your grasp and marches away.

You’re left watching her back fade into the rest of your house as your eyes are wide and you’re becoming increasingly aware of the presence of another person behind you. A person who is very important and very famous and very much a representation of all the things you loathe.

Turning on your heel, you don’t bother to push your lips up into a morning grin facing Prince Joshua with tired eyes and frown etched into your mouth. Taking a deep breath, you glance back at your mother who is in a far off room, deciding that whatever he needs to say to you, she doesn’t need to hear.

Slipping on some slippers, you quickly walk out of the house and close the door behind you, putting you right in front of Prince Joshua who waits for you with bright eyes.

“Hi,” he greets, voice airy and light as he takes a few steps back so he can bow, of which you begrudgingly return. “Sorry to bother you so early in the morning, I was just taking care of some work in the area and was told to stop by and talk to you about something.”

He sounds sincere, and his lips curve into a pleasant expression when he speaks, and you wonder if he’s plain stupid playing dumb to save you the humiliation of the situation—a royal prince speaking to the daughter of ‘a slut who seduced the royal advisor.’

So unable to decipher anything about his true intentions, you ask bluntly, “Is it about the letter I got from the kingdom two weeks ago?”

Prince Joshua chuckles nervously, rubbing the back of his neck and you catch the fancy white fabric of his buttoned up shirt underneath the coat. “I mean, yes it is and—”

You scoff, crossing your arms over your chest. “Why do you guys even bother sending letters? It’s the 21st century, you know? Emails exist.”

His face reddens, looking away before pursing his lips together. “Some things are just kept out of tradition,” Prince Joshua reasons quickly. “But I totally understand that, we’ll keep emailing in mind. But for the meantime, that’s, uh, kind of what I’m here for. We didn’t hear back a response, and I would like to take your answer back to the castle for you.

“Isn’t no response enough of a response?”

“Well—”

“My answer is no, if that wasn’t obvious,” you say, turning back to the door. “Is that all?”

“Wait!” he exclaims, grabbing your arm with his white leather gloves. It’s a bit surprising, really—he seems awfully timid for a prince and you’re a bit unnerved by how he hasn’t reprimanded you yet for being disrespectful. “Is there a reason why you don’t want to take on the job? If there are some specifics, maybe we can adjust the arrangement so it’s more to your liking.”

Your eyes widen, bewildered. “What? No I—I don’t care for anything like that, I won’t take the job.”

“Aren’t you just a ray of sunshine,” he mutters under his breath before his eyebrows knit together as he looks at the ground, seemingly trying to figure something out. “Is it the money? We can negotiate your salary,” he offers and you shake your head.

“No, it’s not the money—I don’t care about the money,” you say harshly. “It’s not any of that, I just don’t want to.”

“Can you tell me why? It’s just, I’ll have to report this back to the Counsel and if I’m not able to recruit you, they’d at least want some reasoning for why.”

Inhaling sharply, it takes all your self control to not let your eye twitch and slam the door in his face. “Are you really asking me why I don’t want to?” Pursing your lips together, you glare at him harshly. “You were there that day, weren’t you?” you ask more quietly, and for a moment you see Prince Joshua falter. “Not that I’d expect you to care but surely you can at least understand why I don’t want to.”

“I-I’m sorry, but I really can’t change the past.”

Scoffing, you turn on your heel and open the door. “I’m not asking you to.”

“Wait—just wait a sec’!” he calls out, stopping the door with his palm before you close it. “You’re in your second year at Hong University, right?” He doesn’t wait for a response before he continues. “We’ll pay for the rest of your tuition.”

The air in your lungs seems stuck for a passing moment, and you shake your head to yourself, stepping into your house and turning around one last time with cold eyes and a deep frown. “No.”

The prince looks around hastily before blurting out, “We’ll do all of it!”

“All of what?”

“We’ll pay for all of your tuition—reimburse you for what you’ve already paid.” You don’t care. You shouldn’t care. “All of it, plus your hourly wage,” he adds, and you don’t even have a chance to think before you feel your mother’s hand on your back.

“She’ll do it.”

Your mother chuckles as she helps you tie the lavender colored robe around your waist. You’re not sure what she finds so funny about this, but you bite your tongue when you start to catch on how she ties the ribbons with such ease.

Over ten years of being away from the castle can’t erase the time she spent there, tying her own robe every morning before she was stripped of her title, and in turn, also the life she worked so hard to build up.

As you look down at the smooth fabric sent to you a week earlier from the castle, you’re forced to begrudgingly admire the intricate embroidery. The collar and ribbons are decorated with a darker purple stitching that runs in all sorts of twists and turns and swivels around the curves of your body.

“They’ve made them look nicer since I’ve last seen them,” she thinks out loud, matting her hands down your shoulders to smooth the fabric down one last time before taking a look.

“I don’t understand why you’re still so—” You inhale sharply and press your lips together, warning yourself to not say anything more when she shoots you a cautionary look. “Sorry,” you mutter, turning away so you can glance at yourself in the mirror. You do look pretty nice, if you had to admit.

“Just think about the money,” your mother encourages. “They’re covering the cost of all your schooling—all those days spent at Mr. Min’s can now go towards things you enjoy, rather than paying for your university.”

“I guess,” you grumble, adjusting your hair one last time before grabbing your phone and keys, walking towards the foyer.

“You know the way right?” your mother calls out as you slip on your shoes and walk out onto the front porch.

“I wish I didn’t,” is all you say, low and under your breath as you make your way to the car.

The castle lies in the heart of the city, so it’s quite the drive. You’re careful as you try to keep your robes clean, bunching it up to your thighs as you drive, and once you’ve made your way to the castle, you’re sure to make sure the hem of the bottom doesn’t hit the ground.

Reporting to the entrance that was given in your email (why they send emails for instructions but not the actual invitation to your job still remains a mystery to you), you carefully tuck your phone into a crevice of your robes.

The entrance starts at a gate on the east end of the castle, and you make your way to the little hut that sits at one end where a woman in a lavender polo and dress pants sits at a desk. Knocking on the window, you smile nervously as she looks up from her papers.

“Can I help you?”

“Yes!” you say, holding up your phone and pointing to your first day instructions. “It’s my first day here, and I’m not sure how to get inside and all.”

“Did they give you a code?”

“Uh, yeah let me check again,” you murmur, looking back at your phone to find the 5 digit code you were sent. “It’s, uh—32423.” The lady hums and nods, checking something on her computer before looking up at you with a smile.

“That’s correct. From now on you can just come through the smaller gate on the side—it should be to the left of this big gate, and just put in whatever code you have. It changes every few days but you’ll be notified with the new password every time it does.”

“Thank you,” you say, glancing over your shoulder to look at the gate she’s talking about.

“For now, just follow me. Since it’s your first day, I’ll show you the way to the … where was it you need to get to?”

“Right here it says the Advisory Quart?”

The girl’s eyes widen as she sits up from her seat and walks out of the hut, leading you toward the smaller gate. “Seriously?” she asks as she punches in the code, the gate automatically opening once she’s done.

The gate leads to a narrow pathway that runs slightly uphill in the midst of a lush field of trimmed green grass and sparse flowers that was previously hidden from you by the large stone halls. You remember the scene vaguely, but it’s a lot lovelier in person than you remember. Glancing up the pathway, you catch sight of the large castle in front of you, and the vision has an uneasy feeling floating in your stomach.

“Uh yeah, is that surprising?” you respond, hoping the small talk will distract you, even if it’s only a little.

“I mean the Advisory Quart is no joke. Those people work like crazy dogs—” she says with a laugh before looking at you with wide eyes. “Wait, I’m sorry—please don’t tell anyone I said that, they’ll—”

“Don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me. But please do continue—what were you saying? I haven’t been in that castle in a long—I’ve never been to the castle before, so I’m not up to speed with all the different Quarts and sectors and stuff.”

“Oh well, it’s just that the Advisory Quart does a lot of work … I swear they’re always running around, talking about some new project they’re working on,” she says as you follow her up some steps, nearing an entrance to a building connected to the castle.

“What kind of projects?” you ask curiously.

“Oh gosh, everything, I tell you, they do pretty much everything. From helping the King with his own decisions to doing absolutely random, huge projects, there always seems to be someone who’s on top of everything. I remember I had a friend whose husband worked up there—they were working on designing a whole new ballroom and no one had any idea why! So what are you going to be doing there?”

Chuckling nervously, you aren’t sure if you should tell this girl that you don’t really know. “One of those random projects, I assure you,” you tell her because you’re pretty sure it’s true. After all, you’re almost positive they won’t have you be doing anything that’s worthwhile.

“Ah, well you’ll probably be swamped either way,” the girl says with a sigh as you reach a large wooden door. “Anyways, we’ll part ways here. Just go through these doors and there’ll be a big hallway. Ignore all the different corridors and doors on the side, and just go straight and you can see there’s an open room at the end of this hallway. That’s where your check-in will be, and the people there will direct you to wherever you need to go.”

You blink a few times, taking in all the information before nodding meekly, bowing and thanking the girl for her time as she walks away. Taking a deep breath, you open the door with a loud creaking noise, stepping into the grand hallway.

The walls are beige with ornate accents lining the bottom and top, intricate designs carved into the ceilings that hang chandeliers in intervals. Your sandals clack against smooth travertine marble as your eyes roam the entrances to different corridors and rooms, doors dark and wooden, similar to the one you just entered through.

There aren’t many people in the long hallways, passing by only a few others who seem to have their attention busied by papers or their phone. Some of them are wearing similar fashioned robes to yours, while most of the others are wearing the same lavender colored polo and white slacks as the girl who brought you here.

Smoothing the fabric below your waist one more time as you near the large open room you were directed to, you glance around and find a desk with a kind looking receptionist talking to a man wearing your kind of robes.

Quietly approaching the desk, you stand a few feet behind him, patiently waiting for them to finish so you can step up. Neither of them seem to notice, being caught up in a conversation that seems a bit of a mix of professional and leisurely.

Twiddling with your fingers behind your back, you rock side to side on your feet as you wait for the two to finish up talking about how they’re excited for the next ball that’s coming up, not bothering to think about who these people might be and why they’re even invited to it.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” the man at the counter calls out, “I can help you.” He smiles and waves you over before nudging the other man on his shoulder. “Seokmin, go—you’re distracting me.”

The man he pushed is a handsome looking guy, light brown hair falling just above his eyes as he turns around and gives a small smile, stepping to the side but not fully backing away. “Ah, sorry about that. Go ahead, we were just catching up.”

“No worries,” you say quickly, walking up to the receptionist. “I’m here to find the Advisory Quart I think? I was told to report to this entrance, and the lady at the front told me to come here—it’s my first time here so—”

“Your first time in the castle?” the other man asks you with wide eyes.

“Uh, well—”

“Don’t mind him—Seokmin, you know better than to mess with the newbies,” the receptionist murmurs, and you frown at the word. He catches on and looks up at you, holding a hand out. “No offense.”

“N-none taken. So could you help me—I’m really not sure where to go.”

“Yeah of course. Does your email say who you’ll be reporting to?”

“It says here ‘Mr. Park.’”

“Oh okay, his room number’s going to be 77, right down that corridor right there,” the receptionist tells you kindly, pointing at one of the side hallways you saw while walking here. “Since it’s your first day, I’ll let him know that you’ll be coming down so he can be ready. I’m sorry, what’s your name?”

“Thank you so much,” you say bowing, quickly telling him your name. So caught up in the kindness of these peers, you almost forgot why you were so reluctant to come here in the first place, but no worries, this receptionist does a good job of reminding you.

His lips press into a thin line as raises a brow, asking you to repeat your last name again. When your answer slips from your lips, it’s much quieter. A heavy cloud sinks over you as you realize that even after years away, your family name is still tainted.

“Okay,” the receptionist finally says briskly, and you’re taken aback by how cold his voice has become. “I’ll let him know you’re coming down. You can proceed now.”

He doesn’t give you a ‘good luck,’ or a ‘have a nice day,’ or a ‘do you have any questions,’ despite his cheery attitude from before. Now he’s looking at you with an expressionless face and eyes that won’t meet yours as you shamefully turn away.

So caught up in the disappointment, you hardly notice how the other man—Seokmin—is still watching the scene unfold. As you walk away from the open room, there’s a hand on your wrist. Whipping around, you’re faced with a Seokmin whose face seems unreadable, just like the receptionists. Except something is … different. He seems sincere, and you feel safe.

“You might get lost trying to get there,” Seokmin says rather casually, letting go of your hand and walking next to you. “Come on, I’ll show you the way—I’m working under Mr. Park too actually, I’m his intern—so I know the way pretty well and can fill you in on what he’s like.”

You wonder why Seokmin isn’t acting like the receptionist. Your family name is still somewhat taboo in the city outside the castle, so you were pretty confident when walking into the actual place of the ‘crime scene’ that you’d be even more … generally disliked.

Seokmin seems to be different though, and you can’t quite figure out why.

Seokmin lets you know Mr. Park is mean when he wants, which seems to be always. Direct with his words but also, you have to read in between the lines sometimes if you don’t want to get scolded. You’re not sure what to do with that information, because Seokmin doesn’t tell you much else.

You walk down the corridor with him before stopping in front of a wooden door to your right, labeled with that familiar sun emblem and a golden plated plaque reading ‘77.’ “C’mon, he should be in here right now,” Seokmin says, pressing against the frame and pushing the door open.

Inside is a room unlike the others you’ve seen before. The ceiling is much lower and baskets of plants hang from it, vines lining the limestone walls, and pots and beds of plants sit by the smaller desks that litter the area. There’s a larger desk at the end opposite to the door, and you see a man with grey hair and firm eyes sitting at the ornate chair, reading through a stack of papers.

“Ah, Seokmin,” he says, standing up when he notices the two of you by the door, and it’s not you realize that this man is Mr. Park. Both you and Seokmin bow hastily. “I was waiting for the two of you to arrive.” His gaze then turns to you, and it’s sharp. “What took you so long?” His tone is harsh and you almost wince. “It isn’t your first time in the castle,” Mr. Park says bluntly, and for once you are taken aback because no one has addressed the cloud hanging over your head so directly yet.

“I’m sorry sir, I haven’t been here in—”

“No excuses. Don’t be late again.”

“Y-yes sir,” you reply meekly, faltering in your step a little.

Mr. Park sighs heavily and looks at Seokmin, waving him off. “Go to the Ballroom and ask around to see if they need anything for tonight. Don’t be slow like last time.”

“Yes sir! Right on it,” Seokmin says with a nod, quickly turning on his heel and scurrying out of the room.

“And for you …” Mr. Park mutters as he takes in your figure with an unnerving look on his face. “I need you to lead a project.”

Your eyes bulge out of your head. “Lead a project? I don’t even know what—”

“Word has it that the Prince himself had to bribe you with a whole four years of Hong tuition to get you here. Surely you didn’t think you’d be given light work.” people knew about that?

“Well, I didn’t know much about anything and I don’t even know what work I’m supposed—”

“You’ll figure it out, soon enough,” Mr. Park tells you briskly, walking over to his desk where a large chalkboard sits to its left. Using a stick, he points at a word written in a corner. Garden. “The Queen has a courtyard that she no longer likes the look of. It’s been stripped down, and you’re in charge of turning it into a garden of her liking.”

You knit your eyebrows together. “A-a whole courtyard?”

Mr. Park raises a brow. “Are you saying that it’s too much for you?”

“N-no!” you exclaim quickly. “I’m just surprised, that’s all. I don’t get why I would be chosen to do this.”

Mr. Park huffs, and you wonder how such a tiny old man can fit so much sass in him. “If you must know: the Queen loved how your …” he pauses and within a fraction of a second you have a feeling where this is going, “… your mother designed the gardens on the West end.”

Mr. Park walks towards his desk and sits down, not looking at you as he cards through a few binders. “The Queen wants a similar style for this courtyard but since we can’t exactly have her back …”

You wince for real this time as you conclude, “… you tried to get the next closest thing.”

Mr. Park nods, not returning a snarky comment this time, much to your pleasure. “I’m the head of Design & Architecture, by the way, if you have any questions ask me—as long as it’s not stupid. You lead your project—design it and plan it. When you need people to work on it just talk to Seokmin and he’ll assign someone. You have three months to finish it. If you need an extension, you’ll have to get it approved by me.”

“Okay,” you respond quickly, trying to take in all the information at once. “Is there, like, a theme? Anything she wants in particular?”

“That’s a stupid question,” Mr. Park says bluntly and you frown as he points at a desk behind you. “Your desk is there. Any information you need will be there.”

“Y-yes sir, thank you,” you say, bowing and turning on your heel to sit down at your new chair. The desk is dark, wooden, and completely barren except for a thin folder set in the middle. Opening it, there’s a single paper inside with only a few bullet points typed out, and it hardly takes you a moment to read through all of it.

It’s vague—your only real requirements are the adherence to the kingdom’s symbolic purple colors, and inclusion of a general theme throughout the courtyard.

You furrow your eyebrows at the lack of guidance—were you really left to make such major decisions about such a large space in a castle you haven’t been in years? There’s so much room for error and disappointment and rejection, and after the past years of being treated like your family was nothing but a mistake, you aren’t sure if you can handle any more of it.

Closing your eyes, you absentmindedly nod to yourself in a silent promise. Closing the folder, you stand up. “Mr. Park, sir, do you know where the courtyard—”

“There is a map on the wall. Figure it out.”

You huff, glancing at the large map of the castle next to the chalkboard. This is going to be harder than you thought.

You run into Seokmin just as you leave 77, and he helps lead you to the courtyard. “So you’re working on this one, huh,” he says under his breath as you both appear in front of a large plot of land surrounded by castle buildings on all sides. You’re both standing on the East entrance to the courtyard, and there are four adjacent and opposite entrances on all other sides.

“Uh, yeah,” you say steadily, glancing back down at your minimal instructions before looking back up at the courtyard. It’s a square, and if you had to estimate, each side would be around 50 yards long, leaving quite a great deal of space for you to work with it.

“Pretty big project, huh,” Seokmin says, although his tone seems much more lighthearted than your mood. How the hell are you supposed to transform this in three months?

“Yeah,” you mutter, squinting at the bright sunlight as you analyze the plot.

“You know, I can totally help if you want,” Seokmin begins to say, and you take note of how quickly he talks. “I don’t know if Mr. Park told you but you can basically ask me for help on anything and like, I’m really doing this whole interning thing for fun—” Who the hell works as an intern for Mr. Park, for fun? “—so I’d be happy to help.”

“Thanks. I’ll ask if I need anything.”

“Great!” Seokmin cheers, clapping his hands together before looking behind your shoulder and letting his smile brighten. He waves at someone behind you and you purse your lips together, wondering if you should brace yourself for yet another salty interaction.

“Minnie!” a deep voice greets and suddenly, your feet seem glued in their spot. You know that voice.

“Shua, hey!” Seokmin says cheerily, and you silently cringe. “Crazy running into you here, gosh, I haven’t seen you since last week!”

Prince Joshua laughs, and it reminds you of all those years ago when you watched him from inside the greenhouse. You hate how you remember.

“Yeah, my fencing instructor let me off earlier so I thought I might browse around the castle for a bit,” he explains, and when it all goes quiet and you realize that he must be looking at you, but you don’t dare to turn around.

“Oh,” Seokmin exclaims, as if he’s just realized that he forgot something. You feel a tapping on your shoulder, and for a second you debate just running the other way and never letting yourself return to the castle but for something, you’re planted in your place. “Hey, look,” he says quietly in your ear, “It’s the Prince.”

Like you don’t fucking know that. Nodding, you slowly follow his lead and turn around, eyes trained on the ground as you bow.

“Oh, well if it isn’t that little ray of sunshine,” Prince Joshua says, and it takes everything to not let your eye twitch as you finally look up at him. He’s wearing the same royal uniform you say to him when you showed up on his doorstep and his eyes are crinkled as he smiles widely.

Your face burns as Seokmin’s eyes flicker back and forth between you, and your lips are pressed together in an awkward silence. “You know each other?” His face displays nothing but perplexion for a few moments but then it seems that some of the cogs turned and his lips open wide into a large ‘o,’ and Seokmin waves his finger while nodding. “Oh you’re the girl Shua said he had to offer four years worth of—”

“Seokmin,” Prince Joshua interrupts, putting his hand over his friend’s mouth after catching the look of mortification on your face for bringing it up. “Mr. Park was calling you, I’m pretty sure.”

“Ugh, are you kidding me? I thought this would be fun for the summer but he actually has me doing stuff!” As the two converse casually, you wonder how hard it’d be to quickly slip away.

“Not sure what you expected,” Joshua chides his friend before Seokmin groans and you hear the heavy footsteps of him walking away. He calls out your name once and your eyes shoot up as you bashfully wave your hand at him, bidding goodbye.

You’re left in this corridor with the empty thoughts in your head and the goddamn prince of the kingdom. You half expect him to just wave at you and go about his own business, but it seems like you still have a lot of learning to do.

After all, Prince Joshua is a fickle man. “It’s nice to see you again, Sunshine,” he greets, and you think you might pass out from embarrassment. Glancing around, you see a few maids overhear him using the name and murmuring their own whispers amongst themselves as they rush away.

“H-hi,” you say nervously, suddenly aware that much attention is on you now that the prince is speaking to you.

“So this is what you’re working on?” he asks curiously, not paying a single mind to your awkwardness, walking toward the door which leads to the East entrance to the courtyard.

“Yes sir,” you murmur. You could be snappish outside the walls and in the boundaries of your own home but here, you’re bound by royal courtesy and witnesses that surround you. Compliance is all you can manage out in the open.

“Don’t call me sir—you’re around the same age as me, so it feels weird,” Joshua says dismissively, and you furrow your brows at how casual he’s being. “So,” he starts, looking out at the empty yard of dirt, “you got any idea of what you’re going to do with it?”

“Not a clue,” you reply honestly, keeping your answers brisk. Joshua seems to catch on and he pouts at you. How can a man act so childish? The thought lingers in your head for a moment before he starts talking to you.

“So cold. Brighten up Sunshine. I’ll stop in soon to see how it’s going here—I’m interested!” he says cheerily before stepping back and nodding. You bow as he walks away, waving to you one last time before leaving you in the corridor with not a single thought in his mind.

There seems to be a distinct odd air around the prince, except you can’t quite place why that is.

It’s been three weeks since you started working at the castle—time passes quickly when you have loads of work to do and not much time to do it. You spent the first week hunched over at your desk simply raking your mind for ideas, for anything that would give you even a smidge of inspiration.

77 is rather sparse. It’s only really you and Mr. Park actually working in there, with the occasional Seokmin running in and out to tend to everyone’s miniscule needs.

And then there’s Jihoon, who is the only other person who actually works at his desk, even if it’s only for an hour a day. Jihoon is slightly brooding and always has his nose buried in some work, but he seems standoff-ish to just about everyone. He isn’t unkind though, just … just reserved, and you feel thankful that there’s another person somewhat like you here.

77 is kind to you and your heart. Everyone works on their own schedule and is in their own head, and no one seems to treat you extraordinarily different. You wish the same would go for the rest of the castle.

On the second day of your work, the embroidered name on the fabric over your right breast was clear enough for people to start learning who you were and recognize your face.

But you’re used to the stares—both the subtle and obvious ones—and you are used to the whispers, the guessing games about whether or not you’re a slut just like your mother was.

You’re not, by the way, but you’ve had enough experience with these kinds of people to know that they can guess all they want but you know the answer, and the truth will come to light at some point. You don’t have to prove yourself to anyone, they'll figure it out on their own. Eventually.

By the second week, you figured out a plan and needed to get to work on executing it. Seokmin seemed to be pleased when you asked him for help on that.

“I need people who can build a pathway,” was all you needed to tell him and then he was on the phone, and then the next day you had ten men ready for you by the dirt field ready to work. “I want stone tiles and it needs to curve exactly like this,” you told them, showing them a scaled down map of the area with a long, curvy line running from the North to South ends, and another even more curvy one running from the East to West end.

They didn’t ask questions, which you’re grateful for, because coming up with it was a whole feat on its own. Explaining it would be a whole other story.

As you walk up to the castle’s entrance today, you catch sight of a girl who sits in her little hut in front of the East gate. She’s the same girl who helped you on the first day, you realize. She was kind then, you remember, but now as you meet her gaze, she turns away and pretends to go back to her phone.

You don’t frown or let the gesture sear your heart because in all honesty, that’s exactly what you’re expecting. Sighing, you make your way to the smaller gate and walk the small way up to the actual castle grounds before heading straight to 77.

Jihoon is sitting at his desk but is just about to get up, sending you a quick nod as he stacks his files and walks out of the room. Mr. Park isn’t here, for once, although you did overhear some information about a ball happening tonight so you figure he must be busy.

You’re thankful Seokmin is here, and you catch him watering one of the plants. “Hey, what are you doing?” you ask him hastily, walking up behind his back before grabbing the watering pot from his hands.

“Um … watering … the plants?”

“These are yarrows,” you emphasize, pointing at the white flowers he was just watering.

“Okay … I am really not sure what to do with that information,” Seokmin says slowly as if he isn’t quite processing your words.

Huffing, you tell him, “Yarrows don’t need a lot of water. You aren’t watering them … I think a better word would be drowning.”

“Oh,” Seokmin mutters, looking down at that pot that’s now rich with soaked soil. “Sorry, I, uh, didn’t know,” he apologizes, and you purse your lips together because he does sound sincere.

“It’s okay … sorry for being mean about it,” you add quietly, returning the pot to his hand. “I can send you a list later—of all the plants here and how much water they need.”

Seokmin’s ears perk up. “Really? Thank you, but you seriously don’t have to, you know.”

“I know, but I enjoy talking about plants and stuff. And I’d rather the ones in this room be taken care of nicely, so the least I can do is help you,” you offer before retreating to your desk. “I think I need your help by the way, so can you come with me?” you ask, pulling out a measuring tape from a drawer.

Seokmin nods, dropping the watering bucket by his own desk and following behind you as you leave the room. The journey from the Advisory Quart to your courtyard, which is located near Royal Residence Quart, is quite the walk, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t a little bit pleased that you had someone like Seokmin as company.

“How’s the project turning out?” he asks as you make your way down the long hallways. You catch a few other workers spare the two of you glances and you try to hold your head up and look forward when you respond.

“I’m a little behind,” you admit. “But the construction manager told me that they should be finished with the pathway today, and I asked them to start tilling some other parts of the field so I can get some flora in there soon.”

“Oh really That’s nice—I stopped by the place just the other day and the pathway was looking pretty cool—the color fit in really well.”

“Hm, that’s good … I was worried about that,” you murmur to yourself thoughtfully, pulling out your phone so you can glance at the list of things you need to get done before heading back to 77. Tucking the device back into a crevice of your robe, you smile as you near the East end courtyard entrance. “I gotta get a plaque up here or something,” you remind yourself, looking at the empty space above the entrance.

“You want me to get on that soon?” Seokmin offers and you shrug.

“I guess. I’ll still have to come up with a name for this place …” you say, walking into the courtyard.

“Wow,” Seokmin mutters as he follows behind you. “The pathway looks great!” He pats your back and you throw him a small smile when you look over the two twisting paths that connect the 4 ends of the courtyard. “What was it that you needed my help with again—Oh hey! Shua!”

Oh for fuck’s sake—

“Seokminnie!” that familiar, smooth voice appears from behind you as Seokmin turns on his heel and scurries toward his friend. Slowly and carefully, you tuck your hands behind your back and bow when you turn around and are met with the sight of Prince Joshua. “Sunshine,” he greets with a smile after exchanging his casual pleasantries with his friend.

“Good morning sir,” you murmur as Seokmin bounces up and down on feet from a newfound excitement. How does he have this much energy at nine in the morning?

“I thought I said don’t call me sir,” Prince Joshua tells you, scrunching his face up when you let the word slip from your mouth. “Feels weird.”

“I’m sorry but you’re kind of the prince. I don’t think there’s anything else for me to call you other than ‘sir,’” you huff lowly before slapping a hand over your mouth. You’re not scared of what Joshua might do, per se, but the thought of someone else overhearing your snarky remark has you reminding yourself to be more careful.

Joshua only chuckles. Is there anything that bothers him? “You’re funny,” he comments. “You can call me Joshua, like Minne over here,” he tells you, patting Seokmin’s shoulder affectionately.

Your face sours and you shake your head, “I’m sorry that doesn’t feel right.”

Joshua rolls his eyes playfully, choosing to ignore what you said and instead looks around the courtyard. “Nice pathway. It’s cool that it isn’t straight—is it supposed to be something?”

“Sort of,” you say, turning around to look at the stone on the ground. “It’s confusing.”

Joshua scoffs. “Try me.”

You furrow your eyebrows. Why Prince Joshua—or as he would like you to call him, just Joshua—is so curious about a random courtyard is beyond you. “They’re just lines that follow the movement of sunlight. I guess. I don’t really know how to explain it.”

“That’s cool,” Seokmin chimes in when he sees you pulling out a roll of measuring tape. “Oh yeah, sorry, I didn’t get to hear what you said you needed help with.”

“Oh yeah, I just want to measure a—”

“Sorry for interrupting,” Joshua says, and you frown when he pulls out a buzzing phone, holding it up to Seokmin’s face. “What did you do this time—why is Mr. Park calling me?”

Seokmin’s eyes widen in panic as you watch the scene unfold. “What?! I haven’t done anything wrong recently. Well I don’t think I did and I’m pretty sure—”

He’s cut off by Joshua pressing his finger over his lip, effectively shutting him up. You almost laugh at the way Seokmin complies so quickly, but hold it back as Joshua holds the phone up to his ear. The sounds that come from the call are muffled but you can vaguely make out the voice of your boss before Joshua sighs and ends the call.

“What are yarrows and what did you do to them?” he asks his friend, and this time you actually do stifle out a giggle. Joshua glances at you as you quickly press your lips back into a fine line, both of you turning your attention back to Seokmin whose ears are turning bright red, shoulders tensing up.

“Oh no—I really don’t want another scolding!” he whines.

“Well buckle up, because he’s asking for you back at 77 right now,” Joshua shrugs as Seokmin huffs, stomping off back into the corridor and presumably back toward the Advisory Quart. “Sorry,�� he says, turning to you, “I keep sending your assistant away when you need him.”

“It’s fine,” you say gruffly. “I, uh, I can still do this all by my stuff so it’s not really a big deal.”

Joshua narrows his eyes. “Are you sure? I don’t have fencing for another …” He glances down at his star studded wrist watch for a second, “… thirty minutes so I can help out.”

To say you’re mortified by the offer is an understatement. A prince helping out you? He must be fucking with you because—

“Stop giving me weird looks. I know how to help out around here, you know?”

“Duly noted, but I’m not sure how it would look on my end if the prince was helping me out with—” you gesture to the field around you, “—yard work.”

Joshua laughs, and once again you’re left in perplexity. “Weren’t you the one who reminded me that this is the 21st century? I don’t just sit around and do nothing, you know that right?”

“But still,” you mumble.

“Okay fine. If you’re so obsessed with this royal hierarchy thing, then I, as Prince Joshua, am officially requesting you to let me help. Surely you won’t turn that down.”

This man is so weird.

“Fine,” you relent, holding up the measuring tape. “You see that little circle in the middle where the pathways sort of curve around? I need to measure the circumference of it.”

“That’s it?” Joshua asks casually, grabbing one end of the measuring tape as you make your way to the plot. “Oh, I mean I guess it’s kinda big,” he adds, glancing down at the measuring tape. This one only goes up to 15 feet.”

“You’re right,” you mutter to yourself. “Okay here, let’s just use this,” you say, pulling out a roll of thin string and handing one end to Joshua. “If you stand here I’ll just circle it around and measure the length of the string,” you explain, unraveling the roll and walking around the outer edge of the circle, trailing the string behind you.

Joshua just stands in the spot that you placed him, holding the string and frowning. “I feel like I’m not helping much.”

“Trust me,” you reply under your breath. “You’re helping me just enough.” You don’t mean it to come out bitter, but it does anyways.

“What happened to all the royal hierarchy stuff that you were on about?”

Your eyes harden on him as you’ve made it halfway around the length of the circle, pausing to make sure he notices your subtle glare. “If you didn’t know, this is kind of my job on the line, and while you’ve made it clear that what I say doesn’t affect you, I’m not sure the same could be said for what other people see. So I’m sorry if I don’t want people looking at us and getting the wrong idea.”

“What do you mean the wrong idea?”

Huh. And here you thought that with all those royal tutors, the prince would be smart. Too bad for Joshua, but right now, he’s coming off as just about the densest guy alive.

You’ve been working at the castle for five weeks now. Since your last meeting with Joshua (he insists you get rid of the ‘Prince’ and ‘sir’ so diligently now that even in your head, you’ve removed him of those honorifics), you’ve only seen him twice.

The first was three days after he helped you measure the length of your soon to be pond. You were on the phone with a construction contractor in 77 when Joshua popped in to say ‘hi’ to Seokmin (how and why the two are friends, you don’t know, and you don’t care enough to ask). Noticing you were here past the regular working hour of six, he waited for a few moments to let you finish up your call before walking up to your desk.

“You know you don’t get paid overtime, right Sunshine?” he asks, confused on why exactly you were still here.

“Well work needs to get done,” you sigh heavily, taking a few seconds to clean up your desk and throw away a few old designs you sketched earlier.

“Hey, those looked cool, why’d you trash them?”

“They didn’t work,” you tell him, rummaging through more papers to find the few that you actually wanted to keep.

“Told you,” Seokmin comes up from behind Joshua, patting his shoulder. “She’s a tough judge—even on herself.”

“I get what you mean now,” Joshua murmurs, nodding along with his friend.

Your eyes snap up. “Why are you talking about me as if I’m not here—wait, why do you guys talk about me when I’m not here anyways?”

“You’re like the only one that’s nice to me in 77! Well, sort of,” Seokmin reasons with you.

“I mean you do kind of suck as an intern—”

“Hey! I just happened to get distracted a lot. I’m an honest worker, trust!”

You huff, finally finding the paper that you were looking for. It’s a design for a couple plaques that you want posted above the entrances, and you tuck it into a folder.

“Is that in Latin?” Joshua piques when he catches a glimpse of the wording.

“Uh, yeah—you know Latin?”

“He’s a prince. Of course he does,” Seokmin tells you, turning around to nudge his friend on the side. “This spoiled brat has been learning Latin since he was six!”

Joshua scoffs. “Who’re you calling a spoiled brat? You were in those classes with me too!”

You consider wondering about who exactly Seokmin is and why he was in those classes with a prince, why he’s so close with Joshua, and a plethora of questions run through your mind, before you remind yourself that you really don’t care.

“Yeah but—” Seokmin tries to reason with his friend before you stand up and both of their attention are directed at you.

“You’re right Pri—Joshua. I don’t get paid overtime, so I’m gonna get going now.” You bow at him and then Seokmin, grabbing your folder and bag before pushing in your chair and heading to the exit. Awkwardly, the two boys say bye to you before glancing at each other.

“That was weird,” Seokmin says, and Joshua shrugs.

“I guess.”

“Did you actually understand what she wrote or were you just bluffing? I don’t remember shit from those Latin lessons.”

Joshua rolls his eyes and nods. “Yeah, but I only got the second word. Said ‘invictus,’ I think.”

“Huh, cool. Got no clue what that means.”

“It means undefeatable, dipshit,” Joshua groans. “Seriously, how’d you pass that class!”

“Hey, I was a great student—I just have, uh, bad memory,” Seokmin pouts.

“Yeah I can tell … seriously, how did you manage to fuck up the yarrows even after she,” Joshua gestures behind him as if to point at where you exited just a few moments earlier, “sent you all those instructions and all!”

“God, don’t remind me. I actually feel really bad, ‘cause Mr. Park yelled at her too for giving me ‘the wrong instructions,’ but I really just forgot what she told me.” Cringing at the mental image of both you and Seokmin being scolded by Mr. Park, Joshua shakes his head—that is not a pretty scene.

Joshua sighs, the two of them making their way out of the empty 77 and walking down the corridor towards the Royal Residence Quart. “Why’re you even interning for him? You don’t need a job, especially not as one being an assistant.”

“My dad’s pissed at me, remember?” Seokmin tells his friend gruffly, and Joshua purses his lips at the mention of the older man.

“Right.”

“Wanted to punish me for the summer or whatever, but I guess it’s not too bad. The staff are actually pretty funny, and your Sunshine girl is really bossy so she gives me a lot of work to do.”

“I can’t tell if you’re complaining or celebrating.”

“Both, I think,” Seokmin replies, the two of them laughing together. “Why do you talk to her so much? She’s even snappier to you than to me, and trust me, I can be pretty damn annoying.”

“Like I don’t know that,” Joshua mutters teasingly, earning him a punch on the arm. “But anyways, she seems interesting. Like cool, you know what I mean.”

“I guess,” Seokmin says absentmindedly. “Wonder what my dad would say about that.”

“Okay well your dad isn’t the King so I don’t really think it matters what your dad says about it.”

Seokmin raises a brow. “You sure? My dad almost had me transferred out of 77 because he heard I had to work with her.”

“Well that’s his own problem I guess. Just don’t let him bring it up with my dad because I’m not keen on having any more drama in this castle,” Joshua mumbles, stopping in front of the big door that leads to the residence.

Seokmin nods at one of the guards standing by the door, and she presses a code to a small box on the wall and the doors open. “You coming? Dinner’s about to be served,” he calls to Joshua when he walks forward but realizes his friend isn’t by his side.

Smiling, Joshua shakes his head and waves Seokmin off. “I’m gonna take a breather for a bit. Tell them to start dinner without me.”

Seokmin laughs. “You know they won’t do that.”

“I know, I know, but it’s the gesture that counts anyways. I’ll be back in twenty, trust.”

The second time you saw Joshua was yesterday evening just as you were just leaving 77 to head home, your arms full of papers to look through in the night. After getting the pathways cleaned up, you needed to work on adding more structures to the courtyard, but were at a loss of what to make and what to make it with.

With your stack of papers that were littered with different possible materials and architectural structures that you promised yourself to get through by the end of the night, even if it meant pulling a whole damn all nighter.

“Is Sunshine leaving at a normal time for once?” Joshua asks with a faux gasp as he comes across you in the hallway.

With the paper’s digging into your arms, you can only manage to grunt out a short, “Thankfully, I am,” before increasing your pace so you can get all this stuff to your car as quickly as possible.

“Hey, wait!” Joshua calls out from behind you, and you almost whine because your arms are killing you and you aren’t sure how much more of this you can handle. “Do you need help? I can—”

He’s cut off by the sound of your phone slipping from your pocket and crashing to the ground. “Shit,” you whimper under your breath as you try to balance all the papers on one hand while crouching down to pick up your phone with the other. You’re wobbling under all the weight, and you have half a mind to give up right here and now but then a larger hand is pushing itself into your vision.

“Here,” he says, quickly turning over the device to check for any cracks on the scene. In that fraction of a moment, your phone turns on and flashes your very bright and very embarrassing lock screen. Your face burns as you snatch the phone from his hands and tuck it back into your pocket. “Is that Percy Jackson?”

Adjusting the papers in your hand, you shuffle your feet and start walking toward the exit. Joshua follows, as expected. “Uh, yeah—I know it’s embarrassing but—”

“Uh, you did not just say that,” Joshua scoffs, and when you catch the oddly offended look on his face, your annoyance dissipates for a moment. “Percy Jackson is not embarrassing. Those books were like the defining character of my pre-teens.”

You chew on your lip, wondering how you should respond to this. “That’s cool. I used to like the stories too …”

“Seems like you still do, considering it’s like, your lock screen and all.”

“Look, I just have it ‘cause it looks cool,” you tell him bashfully, speeding up the pace of your steps in hopes that it’ll bring this conversation to end faster.

“Uh yeah, sure. Totally believe you.”

“I’m serious,” you huff. “I liked the books ages ago, but now I’m only interested in Greek mythology. It just so happens that the best art of Greek gods comes from Percy Jackson fan artists.”

“Sure. sure,” Joshua says blankly with a smirk teasing at his lips. “Again, totally believe you.” You don’t know why his subtle teasing has you gripping onto your papers so tightly, why it has you gritting your teeth together. And then you remember who this is and it all makes sense.

Joshua is playful and lighthearted, but he is still the Prince, after all.

Your sixth week at the castle, and you’re nearing the halfway mark for your project’s timeline. You’ve spent the past week working on getting some stone benches built into the courtyard, and just this morning you sent in an order to get some plaques engraved.

Mr. Park stopped by when you were checking out your progress earlier, glancing at the pathways and the nearly completed seating. He didn’t say anything, simply nodding and walking along, and you figure that that’s the best you’ll get from him.

Your day goes by fine, for the most part after that. When you take your lunch break at the cafeteria, Seokmin tags along and you’re pleased that for once, you won’t have to eat alone. He has to leave soon after though—apparently Jihoon called for his help, and so you’re left to take care of this afternoon’s work by yourself.

Not that you mind—people let you be in the castle, and it’s actually quite nice for getting work done. When you return to 77, it’s only occupied by Mr. Park who, as always, pays no mind to you. Taking a look at your schedule, you aren’t sure if you feel like smiling or frowning when you see your next activity lined up.

Visiting the greenhouse.

There’s an odd feeling that blooms in your stomach as you walk there. You haven’t been to this side of this castle yet, partly because you don’t need to, but mostly because you don’t want to.

It’s when you leave the walls and take your way out to the Northeastern gardens of the palace that the pathways start ringing bells in your head. The familiar green bushes that you remember your mother tending to. The fields of daffodils, and the little built in canals that lead toward the row of greenhouses—it’s all flooding back to you, and you can’t figure out if you like it or not.

When you first came to the castle, you figured that you could avoid confronting the remnants of your past, but you should’ve known that everything eventually goes full circle.

Which is how you find yourself standing in front of the greenhouse where everything—your life, your mother’s life, all of it—ended on that day over ten long years ago.

Taking a deep breath, you go up to the door of the largest greenhouse ,tentatively tapping on the blurry glass before pushing it open. Peeking inside, you’re met with the familiar sight of flora arranged in neat lines of soil beds.

As you step in, the air is moist and stuffy—when you inhale, you’re reminded of those early Saturday mornings where you sat by your mother’s desk and watched her tend to the plants. The humidity was usually uncomfortable, but you learned to love it. Right now, you learn how much you missed it.

“Can I help you?” a gruff voice interrupts your thoughts, and you whip your head around to find an elderly woman glaring up at you.

“Hi, I called earlier and you said I could take some of the hyacinths. I just wanted to ask which greenhouse they’d be in because—”

“31C,” she says bluntly, immediately turning back around to tend to whatever she was doing earlier.

You watch her for a few seconds blankly, before snapping out of your haze, “O-okay, thank you.” Pursing your lips, you let your head hang low as you start walking toward the door.

“That damned slut,” the woman mutters quietly. You don’t think you want to hear it, but you continue to listen anyway. “Thinks she can just send her daughter over and—”

“And?”

You don’t think you’ve ever been more happy to hear Joshua’s voice.

Looking up, he’s just entered through the entrance you were about to exit through, and while you would usually mull over the possible reasons he would be here, you’re far more focused on watching the bewildered look on this woman’s face

“Nothing sir!” she replies quickly, back straightened as she presses her hands behind her back. 

“Good to hear,” he says simply. You watch from the side as Joshua gives her a look that you can’t really gauge before turning to you with a brighter look on his face. “Seokmin told me I would find you here?”

“I—yeah, he was right.”

“Well I can see that Sunshine,” Joshua chuckles and waves your hand in a gesture to follow him. You don’t have any other choice than to follow him out the greenhouse and into the much freer, lighter air. “What’re you doing here anyways?” he asks when you start finding your way to 31C.

“I need to look at some flowers.” Joshua asks you quite a bit about the courtyard, and although you don’t really get it, you’ve learned that it’s easier to just reply to his questions honestly than try to avoid them.

“For the courtyard?” he piques as you finally find the smaller greenhouse, opening the door to thankfully find it empty of anyone else.

Your gaze lands on a bed of hyacinths as you reply, “What else?”

“Okay, you need to stop answering all of my questions like I’m stupid.”

Huffing, you pull up a pot from under the bed and fill it up with soil before digging your hands into the dirt around one of the hyacinth plants. Your fingers search under the earth before feeling against the roots and carefully pulling out the plant.

“Maybe stop asking stupid questions then,” you suggest.

“Seeing as you think I’m dumb … do you want to tutor me?”

“What?” you deadpan, looking up at him with your hands still in the dirt. “Why?”

“I mean like, you’re smart and all, plus we get along—”

You click your tongue, finally pulling the plant out of the soil and pressing it into the pot. “Not so sure about that second part.”

“Okay well we have some shared interests and stuff—”

“Like?” you counter, walking over to a sink so you can wash the excess soil off.

“Percy Jackson. Greek mythology?”

Your ears perk up at that. “You like Greek mythology?”

“Yes! See! That’s like, already two common interests, Sunshine.”

“More like only two. And one of them is a book series I haven’t read in about nine years so I’m not even sure it counts,” you rebut.

“Oh no, it definitely counts,” Joshua counters, watching you pick up the flower pot and head towards the greenhouse exit. “Wait, we’re diverting from the point here.”

“What is the point again?”

“You need to tutor me!” he whines as he follows behind you, up the pathway back to the castle.

“I need to? Uh, sorry, but I don’t think tutoring the Prince is under my job description.”

“This is a different job though!”

You knit your eyebrows together. “Am I getting paid?”

“You might,” Joshua smirks. “I’ll pay you by the hour.”

Pondering, you chew on the inside of your cheek, before you finally respond, “How much are we talking?”

Joshua grins, shaking his head. “Should’ve known money was the way to your heart Sunshine.”

“Money is not the way to my heart. It’s just the way to get me to tutor you. Don’t mix those two up.”

“Don’t worry Sunshine, I wish you all the best in finding your sugar daddy husband eventually.”

Glaring, you chastise him. “Joshua!”

“Why did you ask me to do this again?” you ask, stepping into the room Joshua has just led you to. It’s near the Royal Residence Quart of the castle, and you’re a bit on edge. Joshua assured you earlier that no one would question why you of all people would be here with him, but you’ve also noticed that the boy can be a bit distant from reality.

“Because,” Joshua starts, watching you look around the room (it is a very nice room; bookshelves line the walls and there’s a grand desk in the middle, a rolling chalkboard on one end and a vintage map on another rolling board scattered off to another end). “I don’t like the royal tutor they have, and you’re smart,” he says casually.

“You can’t ask for another one?” you murmur, raising a brow as he moves to the desk and hands you a folder.

“I could, but my mother would get upset if I keep running through them. I’ve changed my tutors far too many times by now.”

“Ah,” you say dryly. “The extreme difficulties of the royalty. How unfortunate.”

“Sunshine,” Joshua grins, ignoring your snarky comment. ���Can you at least pretend you want to be here?”

“Um, I’ll think about it,” you reply honestly, pursing your lips together as you glance at his chalkboard which has a list of things he needs to go over. “What is it that you need help on?”

“Well I’m good at math and stuff but Literature and Chemistry are quite literally killing me,” Joshua says with a sigh, sitting down at his desk.

“Literature?” you ask with narrowed eyes. “You’re the Prince—isn’t Literature supposed to be like, I don’t know, your forte?”

“Who told you that?” Joshua asks with a pout, pulling up a packet of papers and letting it down on his desk with a thud.

“I don’t know, I guess I just assumed they’d be having you read Machiavelli or something like that from the age of two.”

Joshua scoffs, holding up the book so you can read out the title. Oh, it’s The Waste Land. “Okay I get that this is a kingdom and all but seriously, who even uses Machiavellianism anymore? That’s from like six hundred years ago.”

“Less than that,” you correct, but shrug anyways and sit down at the chair on the other side of his desk. “But whatever, you need help with The Waste Land?”

“I mean, yeah I’ve read it a bunch but I just never get it and my mom is obsessed with it for some reason and I really don’t want her to make me sit through another read of it so I really need to write up something good on it that will satisfy my Literature instructor and my mom so I can get it out of the way.”

“A paper?”

“Yeah, you know: analyzing themes and stuff.”

“Okay I know what a paper is,” you snap and Joshua rolls his eyes.

“Look now you’re just picking fights over everything I say. Just relax and—”

“I am relaxed,” you huff, but the tension in your shoulders says otherwise. To be honest, you’re still not sure why Joshua decided to choose you of all people, as if you haven’t made it clear multiple times that you weren’t his biggest fan.

You can respect the effort, you guess, but the way he seems so unbothered by your snarkiness is getting a little bit irritating.

“Whatever you say Sunshine,” Joshua says with a shrug, turning the packet and handing it to you. The poem is littered with annotations, underlines, and highlighter marks all over, and you squint for a moment trying to remind yourself of what you remember from the last time you looked at the work. “You read it before? The Waste Land?”

“Uh, yeah, ages ago though. Like back in high school,” murmur, flipping through the pages to jog your memory.

“Why were you reading The Waste Land in high school? Seems like too much, no?”

“Well not everyone was granted the freedom to do as they please with whoever they please,” you tell him, eyes flickering between Joshua’s curious face and the packet in front of you.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Joshua asks, and his voice is slightly whiny.

“It means that people didn’t want to talk to me so I had to spend my time reading. Even if it was ‘too much,’ or whatever you said.”

“Oh,” Joshua’s voice is quiet. See, you remind yourself, clouded from reality is what Joshua is. “Well I—”

“Forget it. I think I’m going to have to go home and reread The Waste Land if you want me to be of any help. What else do you have to work on, or do you just want to do Chemistry?”

“Uh, sure we can move onto Chemistry,” Joshua replies hastily, tucking the paper back into his folder haphazardly before shoving it into a drawer and pulling out a much thicker notebook. “I kinda need help with a lot of it. Like—I’m sorry I just don’t get it—what the hell is an electrophile and a nucleophiles and why the hell I need to know them for alkanes and—”

“Slow down,” you say, sticking your hand out. You grab the notebook from his desk and skip over the contents before looking back up. “If you want me to do this for you, we’re going to have to start from the basics, okay?”

Joshua gives you a look which tells you he doesn’t think he needs to do that, but you open the notebook to a new page, pulling out a pen. Begrudgingly, he nods and leans his head in to see what you’re writing.

He’s oddly compliant when you ask him to be, despite his jumpy and bubbly personality, and for a fraction of a second, you wonder about his potential. Quickly, you push that thought out of your mind.

It’s late afternoon when you reach the courtyard, smiling at the progress. You told the workers to get started on digging up the pond this morning, and you’re pleased to see that there’s already a large dugout in the century.

“Good work!” you chirp to Jungho, the contractor you talked to over the phone. He seemed nice enough over the phone, but you soon realized within the first time that you two met in person that he was just as standoff-ish as the rest. “But we’re going to need to get the insides patted down and compressed so when we put the water in, the soil won’t just soak it up,” you try to tell him casually.

Jungho points his thumb behind him at some of his men. “Yeah we have a guy for that,” he says gruffly, not even meeting your gaze.

“Thanks … maybe have it finished within a week?”

“Okay. Anything else?” Jungho looks around awkwardly, before adding. “Want us to get the water in there too? Then we can get outta … outta your hair and stuff and don’t have to keep coming back.”

“Uh, no—there’s some lining I want to do with the pond, and I’ve got to do that before there’s water in it. But it’s something I want to do myself, so you can just take care of compressing the soil and I’ll take it from there.”

Jungho gives you a weird look but you brush it off. “Alright. We’ll have it finished by tomorrow,” he finalizes, and with that he turns on his heels and walks back to his workers who you can tell were watching him from the corner of their vision.

“Why are those guys looking at you like that?”

You whip your head around, seeing Joshua standing just a few meters away from you on the pathway coming in from the East entrance. He glances around and finds a marble bench that’s just been made, sitting on the edge casually.

“Joshua, you’ve seen people look at me like that before and I think you know exactly why,” you mutter, walking over to where he sits. Joshua doesn’t respond and instead averts his gaze to the ground.

There’s a stray kitten bouncing around at his feet, and he’s quick to drop to his knees on the pathway and engulf her in his large hands. It would be an endearing sight, you think. Sorta, you guess.

“Whatever. You’re still coming in on Sunday right? My instructor prepared this stupid Chemistry exam for me on Tuesdays and I know you can’t help out on Mondays so I kind of really need you to help me on Sunday so I can prep. So please, please, please—”

“You know I’m gonna come in, so you don’t have to pester me so much about it,” you say with a sigh, putting your folder down and crouching on the ground so you can pet the kitten. She’s cute, with wide slanted eyes and soft brown fur, the wet kitten licks feeling warm against your palm.

“But you put up with it, don’t you?” You roll your eyes but Joshua still grins when you don’t disagree.

“I don’t understand you,” you mutter, truthfully speaking your mind as the kitten rolls around in Joshua’s lap. You smile without thinking, and Joshua carefully watches your usually taut face unravel in front of him.

“Are you kidding me? I’m literally an open book. You know Sunshine, you can find my whole life on Wikipedia.”

You giggle. You fucking giggle at that, and it’s hard to tell who is more surprised between the two of you. “You know that’s not what I meant,” you murmur, struggling to hold back another laugh, the kitten jumping out of his lap to play around on the ground under the gentle hands of you and Joshua.

“Not that I would know. You think I’m stupid anyways.”

“What? No I don’t.”

“Oh my god, please don’t even try to counter that. When I told you I didn’t know why helium was named helium, you looked at me like I was the dumbest person to ever live.”

“Okay that’s only because you say you like Greek mythology! How could you not put that together—it’s so obvious! Helium and Helios sound totally alike, and everyone knows helium is like, one of the most abundant elements in the sun.”

“Maybe you know that. You’re also insanely smart,” Joshua counters.

“Whatever you say. But for the record, I don’t think you’re stupid. Maybe a little dense, but that’s it.”

Joshua pouts. “Aren’t those basically the same thing?” You know he’s only being playful, but something about the way he says it makes you think twice. He’s being sweet. So sweet, it feels almost bitter.

“No. You have a smart head, Joshua. Honest. I think you just gotta learn how to use it,” you tell him, more softly this time.

“Thanks Sunshine,” he replies gruffly and you frown, realizing that your attempts to make him feel better haven’t quite worked.

“I’m serious. What? You don’t think I’m serious?” Joshua shakes his head, and you roll your eyes when you pick up the kitten yourself and pull her into your lap.

“You’re mean. So no, I don’t think you’re being serious.”

You gasp, using the hand that isn’t playing with the kitten to place it over your chest dramatically. “I am not mean. I’m just honest. I’m being honest right now.”

“Whatever,” Joshua quips, turning his nose and looking away pettily.

“Okay, are you actually upset?” you groan, cradling the kitten up to your chest. You aren’t sure if you’re more annoyed because you can’t tell if Joshua is upset, or because you might be the reason he’s upset.

“Who knows. Not that you would care.”

“I obviously care, because I’m asking,” you deadpan, letting the kitten roll around in your arms, letting out a squeak of surprise when one of its claws gets caught in the belt of your robe, making a tear in the silk.

Joshua gives you a funny look when he says, “You can be quite pestering when you want to.”

“Congratulations! You now know how I feel.”

“See what I mean! You’re mean. I want the kitten back.”

You clutch the little close to your chest and nuzzle your face into her neck. “No can do. I’m afraid she’s mine until you admit you know I don’t think you’re stupid.”

“Oh my god, is this how it feels when I annoy you?” Joshua grumbles, throwing his head back. “Remind me to never pester you again. Ever.”

“Self awareness is great and all, but like I said, you’re not getting her until you admit it.”

“Fine. I don’t think you think I’m stupid. Happy?”

You hum and shake your head. “Mm, no. Gotta sound more convincing.”

Joshua knits his eyebrows together. “If you’re so insistent on this, then I guess it must be true. I don’t think you think I’m stupid,” he repeats, but his tone is gentler this time.

“Good work.”

Joshua stands tall on a hill. His broad shoulders are sharp with his straightened back and taught jaw. The sky is orange and you watch him from below, the clouds moving slowly above his head in the background.

He’s looking out at something, but you can’t quite tell what. It’s off in the distance, but his eyes are dilated and unwavering for a few long moments.

Wind whistles in your ear, and then the sky grows brighter and brighter until it’s no longer orange and suddenly turning yellow and then white. So white that it hinders your vision and you’re wincing through the light until you realize Joshua is not on the hill anymore.

You look around frantically to no avail—you can’t see anything but white with black spots in your vision and you feel like you’re going blind. And you want to scream but when you open your mouth no sound comes and the blowing of wind grows louder and louder until it sounds like you’re at the beach.

Looking around, you see your legs knee deep in ocean water and you’re no longer hearing the rampage of wind and instead the crashing of waves against rocks. There isn’t a hill anymore, there’s a cliff, but still no sight of Joshua.

It’s still so bright, so bright and you close your eyes tightly again until you feel a shade fall over your figure. A gasp escapes your lips when you see what’s above you.

Wide wings, ornate with white and golden feathers, perched over Joshua’s back as he hovers above you. He’s not looking anywhere else now, only you.

His face glows and then he smiles and you close your eyes one last time but when you open them again, all you see is darkness.

You’ve never been great at remembering dreams. More often than not, you wake up with no remnants of the life you lived in your head the night before, and on the rare occasions that you do happen to recall something, it’s only just random snippets that also hardly make sense.

Last night was no different, although you do wake up with an uneasy feeling, not because of what you dreamed about—you don’t remember that—but because you know you dreamed about Joshua. It’s just the wake up call you need to tell yourself that maybe, just maybe, you’re spending more time with him than you should.

It’s a Saturday morning as you trudge out of bed and to the kitchen, trying to settle the weird feelings that course through your veins when you see your mother brewing a pot of tea. “How’d you sleep?” she asks, not looking up from the boiling water.

Shrugging as you grab a home-grown orange, you respond, “Well enough.”

“Can’t believe they have you going to the palace on the weekends too … I never had to work on Saturdays or Sundays.”

You wonder how she brings up her time at the castle so casually—you don’t know if you’ll ever understand her. “I really don’t have to—I can work on my own schedule basically whenever, as long as I get the courtyard finished by the end of three months.”

“And how’s that going?”

“Behind schedule. Obviously. That’s why I’m heading in again.”

Your mother smiles and walks over, ruffling your hair. “I’m glad you’re working hard on this—I can tell you’re enjoying it, as much as you didn’t want to go there.”

“It’s nice, I guess. I get to be creative, and get paid. Really, getting the money is all I care about,” you tell her casually, taking the peel off the orange and popping a piece into your mouth.

“You don’t talk about it much, but I’m assuming people don’t give you that hard of a time? You always come home fine.”

They do, it just doesn’t happen to be anything you’re not used to. Your mind flashes to Joshua and Seokmin for a moment, and you’re once again reminded of the unnerving fact that you did dream about the former, and you can’t even remember what it was about. “Things are fine.”

You’re three tutoring sessions in with Joshua, and it’s finally the day that you pull out your own copy of The Waste Land. “Oh thank god,” he says with a breath of relief when he sees it. “This paper has been bugging me forever—if we didn’t get started on it soon I might’ve combust.”

“I appreciate the vivid imagery,” you say dryly, “but I really did not need to picture that in my head.”

“Sorry,” Joshua says with a shrug as you sit across from him. “So what’re we gonna do today, Sunshine?”

“Hmm, get through the first part hopefully. We can read it back and forth and talk about it together, so you can take notes. It might be easier that way, so you can get all your thoughts and ideas out, and then it’ll be easier for you to write that paper.”

“Sounds boring.”

“I guess I’ll just pack my stuff and—”

“Okay! Okay! I was just joking. Let’s start, please,” he complies easily, and you smirk as you sit back down.

“Good to hear. Read this part.”

You’re around an hour and a half into the lesson, still working through the first part as Joshua frowns when you finish another stanza.

“Do we have to keep going?” he whines.

“Yes we do. Let’s work with this part now. Read it out for me,” you instruct, pointing out a stanza on your own paper.

“Why—” You give him a look. “—okay fine.”

‘You gave me hyacinths first a year ago;‘They called me the hyacinth girl.’��Yet when we came back, late, from the Hyacinth garden,Your arms full, and your hair wet, I could notSpeak, and my eyes failed, I was neitherLiving nor dead, and I knew nothing,Looking into the heart of light, the silence.Oed’ und leer das Meer.

When he’s done, Joshua looks up at you blankly. “If I’m being honest, I have zero clue what this means.”

You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. “You’ve said that every time you read a new section, but I know that’s not true, because you literally always come up with something.”

Joshua scrunches up his face and slaps his hands to his cheeks in frustration. “But now I’m being serious! This is making no sense to me—I hate Literature, okay? My brain is dead right now and I don’t think I can do any more Sunshine.”

“We’ve been doing this for less than two hours,” you say bluntly. “Look—you said you like Greek mythology right? Try and draw some connections. Maybe that’ll make this more enjoyable.”

“I hardly think T.S. Elliot could produce anything I enjoy,” Joshua huffs as he tilts the page so he can read it better, “But fine. I still don’t get what about this has anything to do with mytho—oh!”

“Finally! You get it?”

“Hyacinthus!” You nod eagerly, gesturing your hands to tell him to go on. “Uh, it was that story with Apollo. Shit, what was the story again?” He looks up and taps at his chin, but when you open your mouth to help him out, Joshua sticks a hand in front of your face and shakes his head. “No wait, I remember. The one where they were in love but Apollo accidentally killed him when they were playing a game!”

“You’re right. The blood of Hyacinthus was eventually turned into flowers by Apollo to honor his death or something like that. In the context of this poem … the giver of the hyacinth flower is almost like a sign of—”

Joshua snaps his fingers in the air and grins. “Forgiveness!”

“Well, not exactly giving forgiveness, but asking for it.”

“Kind of like … saying you’re sorry?” Joshua smiles brighter when you nod. “Holy shit, maybe I do enjoy T.S. Elliot.”

You roll your eyes and point at his notebook and pen. “Good, now write that down. You are going to have to write about this, remember?”

Joshua pouts, but picks up the pen nevertheless. “Whatever you say Sunshine.”

“Joshua told me to tell you that he thinks T.S. Elliot sucks,” Seokmin says, coming up to you in the cafeteria as you polish off your own tray. It’s a large and grand area—an old ballroom that turned into a commonplace for the workers.

Large mirrors plate the walls, and across from you, you can watch Seokmin’s reflection as he sits down next to you. Rolling your eyes, you turn to look at him, “He’s only saying that because I told him to write the paper himself.”

Seokmin furrows his eyebrows as he places a white box, a little larger than the size of your hand, on the table. Glancing around, you catch people in the mirror watching you with wavering gazes before turning away when they find you looking at them.

Huff lightly, you turn your attention back to Seokmin. “What’s this?”

“Joshua told me to give it to you.”

That’s new. Tentatively, you lift the lid a little to peek inside, only finding a haphazard mess of stuffing paper with something purple concealed underneath. “Would it be a smart decision to open it right now?”

“Oh my gosh, it’s not an explosive or anything.”

“You don’t know that!”

Seokmin rolls his eyes himself this time. “Yes I do. I packed it.”

“Ugh, even worse. I’m not opening it if you’re around. That’s embarrassing.”

“Is not! I think that you should—” Seokmin is cut off by the sound of his own phone ringing, cursing under his breath when he sees the caller ID. For a moment, you consider peering over and taking a look, but Seokmin stands up too quickly. “I gotta go for a second. I’ll catch you before you leave!” he calls out when he’s already pushing his chair in and rushing off into the distance.

You laugh at his hurry, wondering what could possibly ensue such nervousness from the boy, but you quickly remind yourself that this is Seokmin and he gets the jitters when he even has to think about being around Mr. Park for more than twenty minutes.

Soon, you start to clean up your area yourself, putting your trays away and throwing away your trash in the weirdly fancy bins they have scattered around the hall. As your lunch break nears its end, you grab the oddly light box, your phone, and make your way back to 77.

The room is empty, safe for Jihoon who’s got his head buried in his laptop, and you think it’s a good time to check what’s inside. If it is an explosive, you’ll just have to apologize to Jihoon in the afterlife.

Opening the lid, those same, crumpled papers lay on top, but this time you notice a little white card in the middle. Pursing your lips, your eyes flicker to your side to see if Jihoon’s watching (he never is, but it doesn’t hurt to check), and when your privacy is confirmed, you flip the paper over.

There’s a message written in purple pen, adorning a handwriting that you can distinctly recognize as Joshua’s.

Thank you for all the help. I really owe you one.

You aren’t quite sure what he’s talking about, and you make a mental note to ask him about it when you see him later. Right now, you rummage through the papers, hands feeling the space beneath them before they land on a smooth layer of fabric.

Confused, you pull it out, only to see it’s a ribbon, much like the one tied around your own waist. Same color, same material, same emblem, the only difference being …

You glance down at your own robes where the ribbon has a small tear at one end from where the kitten had pawed at you. You have to blink a few times to realize what Joshua’s intentions were, and when you do, you can’t help the warm smile that begrudgingly makes its way onto your face.

Quickly, you tug the ends of the ribbon around your waist and let it unravel, taking the new ribbon and tying it just as your mother taught you. It’s the same thing as the one before, yes, but this is different. This is a gift.

Donning Joshua’s (your?) ribbon, you start to clean up your desk space and tuck your old ribbon back into your bag. You forgot to tell Seokmin you’re tutoring Joshua this afternoon, so as you pack up you text him a sincere ‘thank you’ message, and let him know that you might not be able to see him before you go. You don’t get a response, which is slightly odd since Seokmin seems to always be on top of things, but you shrug it off and remind yourself that he’s busy.

Today, you make your way down the smaller halls with a little skip to your step. Joshua showed you this pathway earlier so it’d be easier to get to his study room without being seen; it’s a nice little series of corridors that are a little dimmer and narrower, but still hold the lavish feel you always get walking through the palace.

You can hear the voices of a few people, but it seems quiet, hushed, and somehow a little heated—in other words, caught up in their own world. Being in the castle for almost two months now, you’ve learned to realize what kind of situations need your caution and which ones don’t. This is the latter.

You smile to yourself, smoothing your palms over the new, not-torn silk ribbon around your waist, as you near the second entrance to his study, about to enter another hallway to the final stretch and—shit.

When you turn a corner, your heart stops.

You turn back and run down the corridor. You don’t know if Seokmin saw you, and quite frankly, you don’t care.

It didn’t take you more than a second to put two and two together and suddenly you’re pushed back into your nine year old body—you don’t really know what’s happening or why it’s happening, all you know is that it hurts.

You’re going to have to apologize to Joshua for flaking on him. Surely he’ll understand that you were just a little bit upset by the sight you had to see.

After all, you did just witness Seokmin, quite literally your only real friend in this damn castle, speaking to Advisor Lee, the man who tore your mother’s life down. And now is when everything starts to click, because you realize that Seokmin is Advisor Lee’s son.

Of course he was close with Joshua—he probably grew up on these very castle grounds. Of course they attended the same classes—his father was the King’s advisor and cousin.

It makes sense now, and in your bleary haze as you make your way back to 77, you’re not sure what to do. You rush past a few other staff members murmuring under their breath when they see you, and you usually wouldn’t be bothered by the sight but now you remember that this is the first time you’ve cried since you got here, and it’s all because of that man who started this all in the first place.

As you lock yourself in one of the staff bathrooms, you catch your disheveled appearance and furiously wipe at your cheeks. Fuck. You shouldn’t be crying. You can’t be crying over this, because god knows you did not spend years thickening your skin for it to be cut open like this.

You should’ve known. Should’ve fucking known.

You try to stop your tears, telling yourself that they’re all the same. That you shouldn’t have expected anything more from these people, that you should’ve picked up on how Seokmin was definitely someone important, that you should’ve never fallen for his and Joshua’s sweet games.

“Shit,” you gasp out as a sob rips from your throat, and you clutch the side of the sink as uneasiness bubbles up in your stomach and spreads through your limbs until you’re trembling.

Maybe you let him get so close because you thought he saw you for something else. Maybe you believed that he saw you as more than a pity project. More than someone who was defined by their past.

Joshua and Seokmin—they knew. They knew everything this whole damn time.

And now you’re angry—you’re so fucking angry. Tugging at your hair, ripping up your clothes, and thrashing your limbs around kind of angry. The kind of anger that poisons your bones and makes your body ache until you can’t take it anymore. The kind of anger that wraps its hand around your throat and squeezes the air out of you until you can do nothing but relent. The kind of anger that has you looking at yourself in the mirror and thinking, what the fuck.

The worst thing is you can’t even be mad at him. You want to be mad at him and you want to be mad at Joshua. You want to have the will to go up to them and slap the smiles off their faces because how dare Seokmin be the own flesh and blood of Advisor Lee, and how dare Joshua know and not have the guts to tell you.

Because after everything, Seokmin and Joshua were your friends and—fuck—they were some damn good friends. Your best friends, maybe, if you ever had the liberty to even know what that means.

And it wasn’t because they were overly nice, or excessively cheery, or because Seokim was always grinning and Joshua was always smirking, but because when they talked to you, they were talking to you, and not some shell of your past.

Finally, now, when you press your face into your hands as your last attempt to calm yourself down, you feel like you can breathe. You’re not sure where your head is at, and something tells you that it’s gonna take a damn long time to figure it out.

You’re a little lost.

You were just trying to get to the South end entrance of the courtyard but you must have taken a wrong turn or something because you’re walking down a corridor you’ve quite literally never seen before. It’s similar to the hallways of the rest of the palace, but it’s slightly taller and a bit more narrow, and the workers walking through wear faces that you aren’t familiar with. You’re a little nervous about where your feet are taking you, and you consider just turning around and retracing your steps when you hear a voice.

Seokmin’s voice is loud when he calls your name, and you press your lips together tightly when it rings in your ears. “What are you doing here? You usually don’t come down to the South e—” he starts to say when walks up to you from a corridor to your left.

“Nothing,” you reply briskly, turning on your heel so your back is pretty much facing him. “I was just leaving actually.”

“What—hey! Slow down! Where’re you going?”

“77,” you mutter under your breath as you speed up your pace.

“Slow down!”

You don’t relent. “Seokmin, don’t you have stuff to do right now instead of following me around?” You can’t see the look on his face, but you can only imagine it’s one of defeat.

“I—” his voice is quieter this time, “Okay.”

The footsteps that were one following you die out, and as you browse the corners of your vision, you conclude that he’s finally left you alone. You should feel relieved—happy that he’s not bothering you now—but sometimes uneasy churns inside of you, and you aren’t sure what it is.

The rest of your day goes as it usually does in a palace. You tend to your work and as it hits late afternoon, you start making your way to Joshua’s study. Once again, you’re not sure where your head is at.

“Is everything alright?” Joshua asks you the second you walk in. “Seokmin told me you looked upset and wouldn’t talk to him so I—”

You inhale deeply before, putting your hands up in a stopping motion. “I can’t tutor you anymore.”

Joshua looks at you weirdly. “What, why?”

“Or talk to you,” you add.

“What—”

“Just—just don’t talk to me. Or ask me to tutor you. Or ask for my help, or ask to help me—you know what just like—I dunno, stay away from me.”

“Sunshine, where is this coming from?” Joshua pinches the bridge of his nose, and you don’t think he’s understanding the weight of his words.

“Why do you even talk to me?” you snap. “Like seriously, if you can bother any worker in the castle, why does it have to be me?”

Hurt flashes in Joshua’s face for hardly a second before he frowns deeply. “I—what’s going on?”

“Do you and Seokmin think this is funny? Being nice to me like—” You throw your hands in the air. “—like I’m some kind of joke?”

“What? No, Sunshine, what are you even talking about?”

“I know who Seokmin’s dad is.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” you scoff. “So if Seokmin still wants to know why I don’t feel like talking to him, maybe consider telling him that I’m not interested in being around someone whose father is literally the reason me and my mom’s lives have been so fucked up.”

Joshua winces at the last statement. You’ve been irritated with him, annoyed with him, and all that petty stuff, sure, but this is different.

“Seokmin isn’t like that, okay? He isn’t—you know—like that.”

“And how would you know?” you snap. “Prince Joshua, what do you know about having people be, quote unquote, above you? You have everything in front of you, and when people look at you and Seokmin it’s not ‘cause of some fucked up scandal which pinned your mom as the kingdom’s slut of the century, it’s ‘cause they literally bow down to your presence and—”

Something tells you to stop yourself. Maybe it’s the fact that you know you’re not actually angry at them. Maybe it’s the fact that you’re so fucking tired of being angry all the time that you can’t take it anymore. Maybe it’s the fact that when you finally look him in the eye, Joshua looks sad.

“I’m sorry,” he finally says meekly. “Seokmin should—we should’ve let you know earlier. I promise we didn’t be your friend just ‘cause of that,” he rambles. “I mean obviously we knew about it but we didn’t wanna bring it up because everyone was bringing it up and—I’m sorry. You know Seokmin isn’t like that.”

“And you?” you quip, but you know your retorts hold no weight. “How do I know you aren’t like—like that.”

Joshua falters and you watch him gulp. He looks tired and his lips are red from how hard he’s been chewing on them as you speak. “Y-you know,” his voice is quiet, “You know I’m not.”

You have your answer before you even have to think about it, but you pause for a few moments, waiting to respond. All that comes out is a shallow breath as you look down and squeeze your eyes shut. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I just—” You sigh weakly. “I don’t know. I don’t know anymore.” Joshua doesn’t respond—he knows you’re thinking.

You wonder what to do with yourself. You’re not angry. Not sad either. Uneasy? Maybe. It’s the uncertainty of it all. You don’t understand why you’re not mad, and you don’t understand why you want to forgive him so easily, but you’re starting to realize that you should stop trying to understand the things that might never make sense.

Finally, you nod. “It’s fine.”

“Sorry again. I guess we didn’t wanna make that whole thing all about you. Because like, you’re you, and whatever happened is separate.”

You purse your lips and nod. “Thank you.”

“Was that sarcasm?”

You glare at him. “Dipshit, no it wasn’t!”

“I’m taking this as a sign that you’re feeling better. Am I correct?”

You bite back a smile and shrug. “I guess.”

“Cool, ‘cause I think you’d like to know that my mom stopped by the courtyard the other day.”

“Oh yeah? What’d she say? This is all for her isn’t it—hopefully she liked it.”

“Yeah no, she said it was great. She thought the patterns of the pathway were cool and so she asked me if I could figure out why they were designed like that and I said no. By the way, why did you design them like that?”

“There’s this song I like. It’s called Isohel, and when I first heard it, I liked it a lot,” you explain. “Searched up what it means and stuff and then a few weeks later I was taking some filler class for the credits and my professor goes on some tangent about god-knows-what, and somehow he brings up pictures of an isohel map. An isohel—it’s basically a line which maps out the places that have the same duration of sunshine. Pretty cool, I think.”

“Is that what the pathways are? Are they—what is it—an isohel?”

“Mhm. On an isohel map, they’re not always just lines—they come around full circle sometimes so it looks like these funky, squiggly ovals sometimes,” you ramble. “So I took one of those circle-ish things and broke it up and pieced it together like a pathway.”

“That’s really smart.” Joshua pauses. “You’re really smart.”

It’s not the first time someone’s told you that. Fuck, it’s not even the first time Joshua’s told you that, but it feels different now. He means it, you know it in your bones.

“I-I dunno,” you stammer. “I guess. It just relates to the theme of the sun. My mom taught me about it when I was younger—I loved the sun.”

“So that’s what the theme of your courtyard is? Me and Seokmin have been betting on that for ages.”

You scoff, “You guys bet on that? Seriously, do you have nothing better to do with your time?”

“Clearly not!” he shoots back, causing you to laugh. “Are you really feeling better now?” Joshua asks sincerely, and when you smile and nod, he grins. “Hey, I just realized you talked to me about your feelings—”

“Don’t mention it,” you snap gruffly, crossing your arms over your chest.

Joshua clicks his tongue and chuckles. “There’s the Sunshine I know.”

It’s the next day when you walk into 77. Jihoon’s desk is empty, Mr. Park is just about to leave as you enter and you bow to him quickly as you settle in your desk. Seokmin is in the corner watering the yarrows, seeming to not have noticed you yet.

You watch him closely, smiling softly when you notice he stops before he can overwater them. Quietly, you set your stuff down and Seokmin begins to talk. “Oh, Jihoon, Mr. Park was just looking for you—oh,” he cuts himself flat when he turns around and sees you.

You’re not sure what to do, because Joshua didn’t exactly tell you if he told Seokmin about your conversation and what not, but the look on Seokmin’s face is telling you that he’s just a little behind on the news.

“Hey,” you say casually, throwing a hand up to wave at him as you set your bag down on your desk. Seokmin opens his mouth and then closes it a few times, as if he’s searching for the right words but they don’t quite come out for a few moments.

“Joshua told me that, uh, you know that—” He pauses and glances at you, trying to watch for any hints of anger on your face, but none comes.

“Don’t worry about it,” you say with a shrug, and Seokmin has to blink twice because he’s not sure he heard you correctly at all.

“W-what?”

You narrow your eyes at him. “I said don’t worry about it,” you state again, and then add more softly, “You’re not your father. I get it.” You get it more than anyone. “Anyways, did you get the workers to start planting the hyacinths?”

Seokmin shakes his head once to snap himself back into reality and then shakes his head again a second time. “Wait no, I mean—wait, yes! I mean yes! I did do that—I should go remind them to get on that,” he rambles quickly, clearly a little flustered.

You chuckle. “It’s good to see you’ve been watering the yarrows properly now. Mr. Park finally beat it into you?”

“Y-yeah I guess. I’ve been getting better at remembering them all,” he tells you, starting to fall into a more casual tone. It’s normal, you think. Nice and normal. Nice and normal and just what you need.

“What are you doing here?”

When you turn around with your bag slung over your shoulder, you’re surprised to see Joshua. “Um, working?”

“It’s a Saturday night,” he states, lips pinched together in a funny expression, like he can’t figure you out.

“I think I know that,” you chuckle. “I didn’t know if I could come in on Monday—I need to stop by the university campus for something—so I just came in today to take care of some stuff.”

“You’re a dedicated worker huh … you should just work here forever—the pay is great.”

“Mm, I’m not sure about that,” you say honestly as you look him up and down. It strikes you now that Prince Joshua truly is a handsome man. Dark velvety robes that are even more grand than the ones you’re used to seeing on him, well fit dress pants against his legs and shiny leather shoes that seem to fit his image perfectly. “Anyways, I heard there’s a ball tonight? You’re not going?”

Joshua shrugs as he turns around and starts walking, waving you over to follow him. “C’mon follow me.” You contemplate your choices before telling yourself, what’s the worst that could happen, scurrying on after him. “I left—it got boring, so I got about twenty-five minutes before someone calls me and asks me to come back. My bets are on it being Seokmin ‘cause he’ll get bored.”

You snort at that as the familiarity of this route starts to sink in. “Hey are we going to my …”

“Yeah. Seokmin told me you finally got it named, and I want to check it out.”

“Uh, yeah,” you murmur bashfully—you hadn’t expected Joshua to be that interested in it. You walk through the empty corridors to the hallway that has the North entrance of the courtyard, and Joshua cranes his neck up to look at the golden plaque that rests above the entrance.

“Sol Invictus, huh.”

You nudge him on the side playfully. “You know what that means, Mr. Latin Genius?”

“Of course I do,” he retorts with a roll of his eyes. “Sun god, or whatever,”

“God of sun, but you were close enough I guess,” you mutter as you walk through. The courtyard looks different in the night. It’s nearly done, and as the little warm lights you had placed in intervals along the path light up the scene, you can’t help but feel overwhelming pride with how well you’ve done.

“C’mon, let’s sit here,” he says, pointing down at the circular patch of grass that surrounds the pond in the middle. Joshua sits down first and you watch him carefully before quickly sitting next to him as well.

The grass is cool under your skin, but as a comfortable silence envelopes you and Joshua, you start to think you really don’t mind.

“I think lots of people think I’m stupid or something,” Joshua finally speaks up, and some uncomfortable feeling boils in your stomach at the words. “You know, the only thing people usually compliment me on is my fencing, really. And fencing is one of those things that, if you’ve been doing it as long as I have, you sort of gotta be good at it.”

“I don’t think you’re stupid.”

“I know. Thank you.” There’s a silence as he reaches over the stone lining of the hyacinth beds, plucking a few from the shrubs.

“Joshua!” you complain. “I had those planted just last week.”

“It’s fine,” he mumbles, handing the two he plucked to you. You don’t hesitate to keep your palms open for him, his fingers brushing over the skin of your arms as he does so. You rub the smooth petals between your fingers and a thumb, bringing one close to your chest before taking the other and handing it back to Joshua.

He looks at you, eyes clearly confused, but holds it to his own chest anyways. With your hands behind you on the ground, you lean back and look up at the sky, letting your shoulders relax. The night air pinches at your skin, but the soft fabric of Joshua tuxedo is warm as it brushes next to you.

“Why’d you name this pond Eridenus?” Joshua asks, pointing at the plaque by the pebble lining which spells out the word in fancy lettering.

“You don’t know where it’s from?” you sigh, lifting your head so you can shoot him a stern look. Joshua rolls his eyes and nudges your cheek with his shoulder, motioning you to lean back down at him.

“You know I’m a rascal—I’m forgetful. Tell me what it means.”

“It’s confirmed: you’re a fake mythology fan. I’m suing the universe.” Joshua chuckles and pokes you, egging you to go on. “Do you remember the story of Phaethon?”

Joshua hums. “Uh, son of Helios. Didn’t believe that he was his son. Asked to ride his carriage but lost control and almost burned the Earth?”

You shrug. “Well that’s most of it I guess. He’s racing down to the earth and everything is chaos—rivers boiling, forests on fires, people turning to ash—and so Zeus throws his bolt at him and kills Phaethon right in the sky.”

“Kind of like the story of Icarus. But the opposite I guess. Instead of getting too close to the sun, he brings the sun too close to the earth.”

“You could put it like that. They have the same meaning, I think. But anyways, Phaethon falls out of the carriage and as he dies he falls into this river called Eridenus.”

“Oh.” Joshua’s voice is quiet as you both watch the gentle water lap back and forth in front of you. The small waves hitting the stone barriers of the pound is the only sound that permeates the night sky, besides your shared breaths and the occasional whistling of wind.

“It’s kind of like—” You.

“Don’t say it.” Joshua’s words are crisp and short, and he doesn’t look at you. You want to say the words—I’m sorry—but they get stuck in your throat and ripple through your limbs as you scoot closer to him.

“Anyways,” Joshua finally says, but the word is only followed with silence.

“I think you need to get back to the ball,” you tell him quietly, lifting your head from his shoulder. Your skin burns from where it was previously pressed against him and you silently chide yourself for letting yourself get so close.

Joshua finally turns to face you, and you’re surprised when he chuckles. “So eager to get rid of me, Sunshine?” You scoff, pushing him away gently.

“I-I just don’t want you to get in trouble!” you stutter as you push yourself off the ground, Joshua following suit.

“Aw, so you care about me?” His eyes crinkle up in that familiar way when he says it and you can’t help the childish grin that makes its way onto your face.

“More like I don’t want you to complain to me about how you got scolded!”

“Mm, sounds a lot like you care about me,” Joshua counters, returning your smile with one of his own. You roll your eyes and carefully skip in your dress toward the exit on the North end of the courtyard.

When you almost trip over your robes, Joshua catches you and his rough palm presses against the small of your back as you regain your balance, the two of you giggling together as he drops you off at 77 before heading to the ballroom.

It’s almost laughable how happy you are. Silly you for forgetting that fairytales don’t happen in real life.

The walls look brighter, the chandeliers that hang from the ceiling seem to glitter a bit more, the ground seems smoother; you enjoy walking through the castle in a way you never thought you could.

It’s a normal evening and you’re nearing the end of your time at the castle, but you choose to ignore the odd feeling you get when you think too long about leaving this place. There’s still more work to get done, and you don’t want to spend your time focusing on things that you know will only distract you.

You’re in the middle of Sol Invictus today, looking through a paper and phone as you go through some old plans and checklists, trying to figure out if there is anything you should do before you pack your bags and head towards Joshua’s study.

Just as you’re about to unclick your pen and tuck your things away and head back to 77, someone speaks to you from behind.

“A lovely courtyard we have here.” You know this voice. Everyone knows this voice.

Your blood runs cold as you turn around and face the King, neck craning down immediately as you bow down, stepping away while you hold your hands behind your back.

“G-good evening sir,” you stutter, almost tripping over the stone of your own pathways when you stand up and straighten your back. It’s your first time in years seeing him in person, and you tell yourself as your stomach churns that this was bound to happen at some point.

“Care to tell me about what you’ve got going on here?” he asks, walking around the little stone circle that surrounds Eridenus. “You’re the head of the project, is that right?”

“Yes sir,” you reply quickly, bowing again slightly when he finally goes full circle stopping next to you. His hands are behind his back as you watch him look over the almost complete fields of flowers. “I—uh—it’s called Sol Invictus,” you say. “The—”

“God of Sun.”

“Y-yes sir. Apollo and Helios,” you begin to explain. “Which is why I’ve used these flowers—they’re from one of Apollo’s love stories. They’re quite beautiful, if you ask me, and they fit the kingdom’s colors well.”

The King hums in response. “That’s interesting,” he finally tells you, looking down at Eridenus in front of you. You follow his gaze, staring down at the clear water as you feel your heart rise to your throat in anticipation. You don’t really know what you expect, but if you were preparing yourself for anything, it wasn’t the King saying, “It’s my understanding that you talk to Prince regularly, is that right?”

Your breath hitches in your throat and lodges there along with your heart. “Well, I wouldn’t say—”

“I was speaking to Mr. Park just yesterday.” Oh. “You seem to be a very smart, professional young lady, and it shows in your work.” This can’t be good. “However, I am obligated to remind you: there are boundaries within these walls between the family and its staff.”

“Of course sir. I understand.”

The King watches you carefully, and just when you think he's done, he continues. “There are guards around the castle at all times. there isn't much they miss, I’m sure you know.” This isn't good. This really isn't good.

“It's quite impressive,” you agree, thumbs pressed against each other behind your back. You hear the king take a deep breath, and you wonder if he sucked the air out of you doing so.

"I've heard the pond here is named Eridenus.”

"Y-yes sir."

"Interesting," he murmurs. "Phaeton asked for a bit more than he could handle, didn’t he?" the King chuckles but you hardly hear it over the way your heart pounds. "Let mistakes be learned from, alright?"

You feel your knuckle might buckle. Is this how your mother felt? All those years ago?

The King’s words aren’t nearly as harsh as the advisor who berated your mother, but still, your body sways—you can’t tell if it’s all in your head with all the thoughts that race through, or if it’s the sheer weight of his words that has you almost stumbling.

“It was good to meet you. I’ve enjoyed what you’ve done with this space,” he comments finally, and you step away to face him 

“The pleasure was mine, sir,” you bid, bowing as he turns and walks back to his assistants who whisk him away. You watch the King fade into the distance and disappear to the North end.

He spoke to you for a reason, and the King was right. You are smart. You are smart and professional, and tonight, you know exactly what you must do.

“We need to talk,” you state firmly, closing the door behind you in Joshua’s study. You’re supposed to tutor him tonight, and he doesn’t look up at you as he writes away in his notebook, a smirk making its way onto his face as he starts to speak.

“That’s all I get, Sunshine? No ‘hi,’ ‘hello,’ ‘how are you?’” he teases, but then he looks up at you and catches the grim look on your face and the sound of him dropping his pen echoes through the room. “What is it?”

He stands up so quickly that his chair falls down, but Joshua pays no mind to it, his hands gripping the end of his table as his eyes bore into yours. “What is it?” he asks again and this time he’s hissing it. You know he doesn’t mean to be harsh, but your heart sinks even further than you could imagine.

“Joshua,” and when you say it, your voice is meek. You shouldn’t cry over this—fuck, you hate crying, especially if it’s because of his people. You’ve done more than enough crying over them in your life—you can’t cry over any of this anymore.

“Sunshine, what’s going on? You’re scaring me,” Joshua eggs you on worriedly, moving away from his desk so he can walk over to you. One hand cups your cheek, and you’re struck by the realization that this is the most intimate he’s ever been with you.

What unfortunate circumstances, you think.

“Your father,” you say, having half a mind to push his hand away from your face, but you keep it there because you don’t think you’ll have the will to keep on talking if he’s not touching you.

“What about him?” Joshua asks hastily, grip on your jaw tightening.

“He knows, Joshua, he knows.”

“What are you talking about?” Joshua furrows his eyebrows and asks the question but there’s that voice in his head telling him that he already knows the answer.

“A guard saw us at the courtyard and—”

“We didn’t even do anything,” Joshua tries to protest and with just one look at his face, you can tell he’s trying to figure out ways to rebut whatever that stupid guard saw that night.

“Joshua, you know we can’t do anything about this,” you say exasperatedly, your voice a little louder now that you clutch the elbow of his arm that’s holding your face. “I overheard him talking to Mr. Park.”

Joshua’s eyes widen. “Mr. Park knows? What about your job? Are you going to get to finish the project? Are you—”

“Joshua,” you choke out, and for once you cannot stop your tears. “I don’t care about my goddamn project, I care about you.”

“You love that courtyard,” Joshua argues, and you wince at the way he’s still thinking about that damn courtyard. You brush his hand off of you and for a second it looks like his heart has just broken in two, but then you reach for his face and hold his cheeks with your own two hands.

His skin is smooth and supple with the light grain of stubble that itches against your palm near the underside of your jaw. “Joshua,” you whisper, and it’s now that you feel the warm drops of water hit your skin. Joshua is crying and you don’t think you’ve seen anything that saddens you more. “Don’t cry, please don’t cry,” you beg, fruitlessly wiping away his tears as he silently cries into your hands.

“Why’re you acting like this is the end?” he hiccups and he must hate the sound because he slaps a hand over his mouth and buries his face into it.

“Joshua, no,” you murmur and pull him into you so that his hands can fall and you can cradle his head into your neck, letting your own tears drip onto the silk of his shirt. “It’s not the end,” you try to reason, but he pulls his head away to look down at you with glassy eyes.

“You—you’re lying to me,” Joshua says harshly.

“What are you talking about, I don’t—”

“I know you. I-I—fuck—I fucking know you,” he spits out, causing you to falter backwards. “Why do you think we can’t work this out? I’m the prince, I can—I can change everything and we can be together—”

“Your father —”

“Who gives a fuck, I’ll be king soon anyways and—”

“What if he does something?! What if he revokes your title?”

You’re met with stillness and you think Joshua might just comply with your silent plan but suddenly he’s shaking his head vigorously.

“Okay, then let him. I don’t care about being prince, I—”

“You can’t throw your life away Joshua, not for me!” you protest, holding his face again so you can focus his gaze on yours.

“It’s my life—why, why not?”

“Because I love you. And you can’t sacrifice this—this amazing life—for me!”

“I-I can’t—I don’t,” he stumbles and searches for words as tears fall from his lashes and roll down your hands, your wrists, your arms, “—can’t do it, not without you.”

“You’ve been doing it for years, Joshua, you’ll learn,” you tell him, using one hand to grip his cheek, the other to wipe away at your own.

“You don’t love me,” he chokes out. “You—you wouldn’t do this to me if you loved me.”

“Don’t say that, please.” You press your forehead against his and close your eyes because you can’t bear to look at his tear-streaked cheeks any longer. It’s quiet for a moment, and you can’t help but think that this is the calm before the storm.

“We’ll work it out,” Joshua finally whispers, pulling his head back and cradling the back of your neck with his hands. You don’t say anything, and Joshua doesn’t give you the chance anyway. “Let me have you,” he begs. “We’ll work everything out and it’ll be okay,” he says over a strangled sob, “Just—just be with me tonight.”

And so when you nod, he wipes his tears and pokes his head out of the study to make sure the corridor is empty before tugging your wrist and pulling you to his room. It’s big and grand, just as you’d expect for the prince but Joshua doesn’t want you to look at the intricate walls or the tall ceilings or the golden furniture.

Joshua makes you focus on his burning touch and lets you explore his mouth, his body. And stripped, your bodies are so hot and with wet lips against sheen skin, you feel you might melt into each other’s bones.

Teeth against teeth, nails scraping against skin so hard it digs into the muscle, bruising holds, and sloppy kisses—the feeling is so intense and it crashes onto you and Joshua so hard that you have no other choice but to grip onto each other as you would a lifeline.

And your bodies move so languidly through the sheets, like waves against a shore, or like the wind whistling through the air, until you're trembling and drifting off in each others’ arms.

It would have been perfect. Perfect, if only Joshua had woken up and you were next to him.

Joshua is lost.

After a frantic hour of running around the palace, asking if anyone had seen you, looking for Seokmin to see if he had any answers, Joshua finds himself in the middle of Sol Invictus. And he racks his brain for answers, for a smidge of anything that gives him a reasonable explanation as to why you weren’t in his arms this morning.

Joshua is lost.

He’s staring at the ground now, and all Joshua can wonder is if it was all a dream. If that moment you both looked out his glass window at the stars before you kissed him on his bed was just a figment of his imagination.

He wonders if you actually did thread your soft fingers through his messy hair and hold him close as both hit your peaks together, and he wonders if your lips really did ghost over his skin as he drifted off into sleep.

Joshua almost doesn’t feel Advisor Lee’s hand on his shoulder. He only hears his voice, really, and when he does, the sound grates against his ears.

“She’s gone.” Advisor Lee’s voice has always been harsh, and Joshua wonders how the same man could’ve produced something—someone—as lovely as Seokmin.

“What are you talking about?” Joshua is good at feigning ignorance, but his voice still quivers.

“I know. Your father and mother know too.”

Joshua is lost.

Joshua’s eyes snap up and suddenly his hands are at Advisor Lee’s collar. When the older man doesn’t seem surprised, Joshua sags. “What the fuck do you know. What—” He inhales sharply as he lets go and steps back, inching closer to Eridenus. “—what did you do to her?”

“She left herself.”

“What are—” Joshua heaves. “What?”

He’s doing it before he even realizes it. Stumbling toward Eridenus with his lungs and heart mushed together so tight he’s got a hole in his chest, Joshua steps over the stone lining and crashes into the shallow water.

Seokmin’s face pales when he walks in on the scene. Coming into the courtyard from the South end, he sees Joshua’s figure before he even recognizes it’s him.

That’s not Joshua, he thinks as he watches his father stand in front of Eridenus where the prince sits. That’s not Joshua.

Joshua’s shoulders are always sharp and his eyes are bright. Joshua’s smile is full and his hands are always ready to love.

This isn’t Joshua, and Seokmin feels it in his gut when he approaches Eridenus.

Joshua sits in the middle of the pond. His knees are bent and the cold water stops at the middle of his chest, leaving the upper third of his body dry. His royal coat and velvet pants, his polished shoes and silk button up, are submerged and rub against the algae coated rocks on the bottom of Eridenus.

Advisor Lee doesn’t speak as Seokmin stands next to him, Eridenus in front of the two with the prince in the middle. Joshua doesn’t say a thing. In fact, it seems like he doesn’t even know Seokmin is here now. His neck is tilted down and he stares at his soaked slacks blankly.

Seokmin is stunned.

This can’t be Joshua, because Joshua’s shoulders are always sharp but now they are hunched over and hardly moving, even as he breathes short breaths through his pale lips.

This can’t be Joshua, because Joshua’s eyes are always bright but now they are dull and dead. Seokmin knows Joshua’s eyes are always bright, but he failed to realize what exactly it was that was lighting them up.

Seokmin thought it was the sun but he was wrong, because even now, as Joshua sits under broad daylight, he is still and his eyes are dull.

Two weeks since you’ve seen Joshua’s face and you miss his smile.

You miss his smile, the one that crinkles up all the way to his eyes when he laughs at one of your snarky comments. The one that shines his teeth and the one that seemed to never leave your sight when you were with him.

You miss his smile, but his laugh still rings in your ear, early in the mornings when you blink awake and late in the nights when you gasp in hearty breaths and try not to cry. When you take the walk through the city to your work at Mr. Min’s bookshop, the ringing of the street vendors’ bells are bright and cheery, and sometimes you can hear Joshua’s laugh in the mix.

One month since Joshua last looked you in the eye and he wishes he didn’t know why you left. He wishes he was oblivious, because then he could be angry at you—he could have a reason to forget, to move on, to stop loving you.

Joshua knows why you left and it hurts more than anything because this is nothing like a betrayal at all. You left because you love him, and Joshua cannot dispute that—not now, not ever.

Sometimes he walks through Sol Invictus and plucks a hyacinth, letting it blow off into the wind. He hopes you’ll find the lost petals one day.

Two months since you’ve been in the castle and your life is normal. Well, as normal as it can get for you.

Your first semester of the new year started a few days ago, and you’ve since moved into an apartment near your campus. Your mother thinks it’ll be good for you, and you understand her sentiment but you don’t think she understands.

Ironic, you think. You’ve gone full circle, really. Maybe it does run in your blood, like all the whispers said.

You realize you’re okay with that. Maybe you made a mistake with Joshua, maybe you didn’t. Maybe you almost royally fucked up your reputation more than it already was (thankfully, the Royal Counsel was better at keeping it under the wraps this time), maybe no one cares. Maybe your life is a little bit more messed up now, but again—you’re okay with that.

You miss Joshua. You don’t think you’ll ever stop missing him. You’re also okay with that. You’re starting to realize that you’re okay with pretty much anything when it comes to Joshua. And once again, you’re okay with that.

Six months since he’s seen you and Joshua’s chest aches. Partly because he was distracted during fencing and took a jab straight in the middle but mostly because he misses you.

He stands on the balcony of the royal dining hall, waiting for lunch to be served as he looks over the palace and the kingdom that spread beyond. Joshua sees the tall buildings, the rows of houses, and the infamous Hong University that lay in the middle of the commontown around the hill the castle sits on, and he wonders.

You told him you’d be taking an astronomy class this semester, which should have started a month ago. Joshua is old enough and smart enough to know that collegiate astronomy is more than just the moon and the sun and the pretty little dots that button the sky, but still, he wonders.

The sun and its sunlight, rotations and revolutions.

Will you think about him?

Joshua doesn’t need to wonder—he knows.

The sun is bright today and even though it’s winter, the clouds are nowhere to be seen. It’s a bit of a rare occurrence for the cold months, but Joshua doesn’t mind. When he looks at the blue sky and briefly glances at the sun, his shadow on the stone floor, the reflection of light against the railing, Joshua breathes in the chilly air, filling his lungs deeply.

He knows.

Eight months and you still hear Joshua’s laugh.

You hear it when wind whistles in your ear as you walk to a flower shop to buy pot. You hear it when you look up at the sun and imagine you’re in the middle of Sol Invictus. You hear it when you crouch down on your balcony, placing the little hyacinth into the pot and packing soil around the base.

You miss Joshua, you miss his smile, and more than anything, you miss his laugh. Right now, as you bathe in the memories of a man so far yet so close, you realize that you can miss him all you want, but you won’t forget. You can’t ever forget.

Ten months later and Joshua’s chest still aches, but he’s okay with that.

He sucks in heavy breaths as his lungs search for air on the fencing match, his trainer leaving the room, leaving Joshua after his request to take a break. Through the rush of blood in his ears, Joshua hardly hears the door behind him open.

“Mingyu told me you’ve been struggling with fencing recently,” his mother says, approaching him. Joshua shuffles in his fencing gear, throwing his helmet to the side.

“I’ve just hit a stump.”

“Something tells me this is more than just a stump,” she inquires as Joshua kicks off his boots.

Joshua scoffs, “What makes you say that?”

“Joshua, what’s wrong?”

He pauses, about to pull off his gloves when he looks up at the Queen. “Everyone in the Royal Counsel knows. I’m sure you know too.”

His mother sighs heavily when he stands up, and she follows him out the training room and toward the Residency Quart. There’s a silence that gaps the mother and son—not that Joshua isn’t used to it. He still smiles and grins, he hugs and he bows, and oftentimes it is genuine, but there’s a silence that always follows. A silence that he never forgets.

A silence he holds when he watches the same kitten you held cross his path when he walks through Sol Invictus, slightly bigger but just as nimble and heart warming. A silence he holds when his eyes gloss over the set of Percy Jackson books in the shelves of his room. A silence he holds when he sinks into his covers and presses his nose to the sheets, wondering if he’ll ever be able to taste your skin on his tongue again.

“I won’t ever understand what went on between you two,” his mother finally says.

“There isn’t anything for you to understand,” Joshua tells her, heading towards his room, but his mother stops him and he narrows his eyes. “What? I felt bad for her, alright? When I saw her all those years ago when it all happened out in the gardens—”

“Joshua, what are you talking about?”

“That’s what you want to know, right? Why I talked to her? Why I—I love her?” His mother gives him a stern look, but Joshua doesn’t relent. He’s starting to realize he’s been too comfortable with this silence. “I never asked you to understand it, but I’ll tell you anyway. Maybe because I pitied her or felt sorry for her or all the same stuff, and maybe I didn’t think she deserved to be ostracized for something she never did but—whatever. I’m not asking you to understand, but I am asking you to leave it alone.”

“You’re my son, Joshua.”

The Queen is Joshua’s mother and she doesn’t understand. She may never understand, and Joshua is okay with that because if he’s being honest, he doesn't think anyone will ever understand. He’s okay with that too.

You will understand, and for him, that’s enough.

You get two letters from the Royal Counsel in your lifetime. You received the first over a year ago—the one you opened with Mr. Min standing across from you in his little bookstore under dingy lights and over the dusty counter. The one you crumpled up and tossed into the dustbin without as much as a second though. The one that led you down a long, winding path which brought you to Joshua.

You receive the second now, standing in your apartment as you look down, except this time you aren’t staring at a paper, you’re staring at the screen of your laptop. You giggle quietly to yourself; Joshua must have taken the Royal Counsel up on still sending letters.

You’ve only looked at the subject of the email so far. It’s got your name and the word “request” written in bold, and you wonder what they want.

Glossing over the text, a wave of nostalgia washes over you. “The Hong Royal Counsel wishes to find you well, as we present a request.” Same shit, huh? “You will have the opportunity to lead a project as you please and earn a notable compensation in payment for your efforts.” Yeah, pretty much.

It’s the same thing, you realize. They want you back—for what, you aren’t sure, but you have a feeling that it doesn’t really matter. Because signed, at the bottom of the email isn’t the usual, “Hong Royal Counsel,” but instead is, “Hong Royal Family.”

The little sun emblem sits below the signatures of the King and Queen, and you press your eyes shut and hold the screen close to your chest, silently praying under your breath that is not a dream.

You don’t know what happened, don’t know what Joshua told them, but to be frank, you don’t care. You’re smart enough to read between the lines.

I don’t understand, they're telling you, But that doesn’t mean I can’t try.

It’s your first day at the castle. Well, your second first day.

When you park your car at the base of the hill, you smile down at the silk over your waist. You abandoned the new ribbon sent to you by the Court, instead donning the one that came to you in a little white box ten months ago. Sometimes, when you hold it close enough, you still think you can smell Joshua’s skin.

You wonder how long you’ll have to wait for him, but as you look up at the sky, you have your answer.

Something speaks to you when you return to 77. Mr. Park is still gruff and cranky but you swear you see the peek-a-boo of a smile on his lips when you walk in. Jihoon’s there too, he greets you regularly.

And of course there’s Seokmin who is hugging you so tight, it reminds you that he is a full grown man and not a child trapped in a large body. You think he almost cries when he laughs with you about how he almost killed the yarrows again (but he brought them back to life! Trust!), and then he beams and tells you that you gotta check out Sol Invictus.

It’s beautiful.

Bright hyacinths that line from east to west and your heart is happy because Seokmin told you he’d get everyone to finish planting them and he did. The purple petals let wind whistle through its stems and leaves, the rustling echoing off the walls of the castle that surround Sol Invictus.

The water of Eridenus gleams under the sun, the stone of your pathways glows brightly, and as your eyes flicker around, you notice something new. In each corner field of Sol Invictus, sits a medium sized sculpture, each of a pegasus but all slightly different in pose and manner.

And then you see him, his back facing you, standing in front of one of the statues that sits in one of the fields on the west end.

Walk the line.

Tracing the pathways—your pathway—from East to West with your shoes clacking their short heels against the tiles—you know he can hear you, but still, he doesn’t move. His hands are neatly holding each other behind his back as his neck tilts slightly upward to stare up at the pegasus.

“Aethon, Aeos, Pyrois, and Phlegon,” Joshua says when you finally stop next to him, shoulders barely brushing against each other. “This one is Pyrois.”

“Helios’ pegasi,” you murmur, glossing over the fine details and intricacies of the statue.

“I thought you might like them.”

You don’t say anything for a moment and grin, watching his eyes light up from the corner of your vision. “I love them.”

“Thank god. You were taking so long to respond, I thought you were going to yell at me for fucking up Sol Invictus.”

You laugh and shake your head, both of you shuffling as you face each other.

“Hi,” you say so lightly it comes out as a breathy laugh when you both finally look each other in the eye.

“Sunshine.” Joshua smiles, holding out his hand. The light is warm when it hits your skin, and Joshua’s dark hair glints a light brown under the beams. You take his hand and run your fingers over the calluses of his palm; his skin is warm when his fingers grasp around yours and as you look at his eyes, you feel it in your bones.

This is Joshua, this is Joshua, and every path you follow will always lead you back to him.

a/n. aaah it's done! as per em's request, i will be posting a one-shot of these two and their lives in the future bc i feel like i robbed u guys of a possibly fluffier ending so keep an eye out for that ... anyways, i hope u enjoyed, comments / reblogs would mean the world to me and >_< thank u for reading!

taglist. @synthetickitsune @ixayjun @leejihoonownsmyheart @dahliatopia @gyuswhore @hoeforcheol @5xiang @hajimelvr @miriamxsworld @blinkjunhui @lixiel0ver @josefines-things @mimisxs @kawennote09 @bbyjjunie @rubyreduji @todorokiskitten @98-0603 @hipsdofangirl @minnie-mouser22 @minhui896 @whippedforjihoon @nishloves @woozarts (strikethrough could not be tagged)