#guest oc: frank

[lsdoiphin]

Sorry, Ike: you have been accepted into Sam’s found family(derogatory).

[thecl0wnfather]

Welcome Home funk alien OC I completely forgort abt *sad trumpet womp womp* M' thinkin about drawin him just to post him online, I think he is very cute and more ppl should see him.

... do u love her?

[clownsuu]

FRANK YOUR SECOND FAVOURITE????!!!(you're a demon)

IM SORRRYYYYYY HOWDY WILL FOREVER BE MY NUMBER 1 GOOFY GOOBER HES JUST TOO CUTE AND QUIRKY-

also take a welcome home oc iv decided to make out of pure boredom NDGDGDHDJ-

cw poorly drawn g//n

Me? Making a gilf oc? N a h h h hh h-

anyway this old man Dr Stone is purely comedic who visits rarely rather than being an actual neighbor (Yknow, like one of them guest characters or side characters that show up every now and then)

if he smiles a child will perish, and is the worst grump out there (may think “huh- maybe I should smile more often then”)

probably the only time y’all will see him LMAO, he’s a fun character my friends helped me make (love y’all gamers)

[foxyd101]

Hiya Everyone, I know a lot of you have been waiting for more lore/art of my Masquerade/Masq au, soooo *yeets art* here some masq au art/lore enjoy. (Note: more is on its way)

-Y/N: a astounding and clever individual that dances the night away as their past slowly flys away

-Sally : a bright shining star on a stage littered with lies and lost memories

-Juile : a bubbly and caring singer slowly unlocking a shattered/long lost past

Frank: a observant violinist traversing a forbidden hall fill with secrets

Wally: The one pulling the strings of both residents of the manor and guests.

(Note: For the final drawing I thought it would be a nice touch to add a few of my mutuals oc based on my au)

Rainy belongs to @koifsssh

Clover and Dasiy belongs to @chimeracarnival

Gloom belongs to @theknifeclown

And finally Izzy belongs to @minutemaryn1

[ily-sunghoon]

The Omen of Sterling | CHAPTER II

Pairing : vampire!enha x fem!oc (sunoo moments appear a lot in this chapter)

Genre of this chapter : vampire, fluff if you squint

POV : Author’s

Words count : 3.9k

WARNINGS : food, blood, slight manipulation, sunoo dad is handsome and funny (lmk if i miss anything)

Note : the masterlist almost hitting 300 notes... im very grateful, thank you for liking my works guys <3 it feels like a dream :( feel free to ask if you have confusion about the world building! and feel free to correct any grammatical mistake, im also still learning english!

MASTERLIST

TAGLIST : @nshmrarki @capri-cuntz @millieinyourarea @strxwbloody (let me know if you want to be added)

CHAPTER II: ‘PERSONALITY’ TEST

“Can I come with you?” Sarco asked Jestel who’s ready to go to Idris with Jusarlie, Saine, and of course, Iolana.

“No, you have to teach today.” Jestel knows Sarco’s schedule.

“But they have to teach too?!” Sarco pointed at Jusarlie and Saine with his chin.

“They have substitutes. You don’t.” Jestel shortly ended it.

“Ricardo can—”

“Ricardo is still one of your students, Sarco.”

“Ugh! You’re annoying.” Sarco unexpectedly sulks.

“Isn’t our bet about Jusarlie? Why is Sarco becoming grumpier than him?” Saine chuckled.

“He’s very nosy.” Jestel shook his head. “Let’s go.”

They headed to Cairneye’s Mansion. Jestel had contacted Idris beforehand, saying that they would show up with a surprise guest. Cairneye’s Mansion is beautiful. It has a wide yard, beautifully decorated with flowers, bushes, fountain, and some statues. They head straight to Idris’s workshop that usually opens every day for people who need guidance. He made an exception today, because he’s feeling like he’s going to be exhausted after Jestel’s visit.

Stepping into the workshop, Iolana can’t help but observe her surroundings. The workshop gives her a cozy feeling. Warm lights, a tall armchair, some books that were left open on the desk, potions, herbs’ scent, incense that is burning in some spots, ritual candles. It’s just very homey. Judging by his workshop, Iolana has a feeling that Idris is a warm person.

“Papa, where are you?” Saine calls to his father.

Iolana continues to observe her surroundings again. She found a table full of framed pictures. Her eyes are staring at a picture of Saine and a guy, they’re smiling so sweetly with their eyes too. Saine is holding some flowers, Iolana assumed they’re canterbury bells based on how they look.

“I always have a panic attack whenever I heard you looking for me, Saine.” Saine’s father suddenly appeared out of nowhere.

“Can you stop scaring us, Uncle?” Jusarlie scoffed.

“Keep hating your own son and see where it’ll take you! Ugh!” Saine scoffed as well. Idris is such a cute silly man.

“It’s fun.” The said man smiles, his eyes are smiling too, looks like Saine got it from him. “Oh, hi! A girl. Human even. A sweet scented one.”

“Hi.” Iolana said shyly. Idris is incredibly handsome. His fashion taste is no match too. An elegant white top with black trousers, and even the touch of a man’s corset on his waist, or more like a wide belt? Iolana doesn’t know. Is it the outfit or his face? Iolana doesn’t know that either. Cairneye are so blessed, that’s the only thing that she knows. Best physical appearance combined with predicting future skill? Iolana immediately feels the need to have whatever they have. What a strong gene.

“Do a full test on her.” Jestel orders the older man around.

“Your name, Child?” Idris asked Iolana softly.

“Iolana Sterling.” Iolana is still shy.

“Holy Amadeus!” Idris is definitely surprised. “Welcome back!”

“Thank you…” The shier she gets, the more she hides behind Jusarlie. Jusarlie found it adorable, he feels warm because Iolana is already comfortable enough to seek for his protection.

“Alright, let’s see what you’ve got.” Idris nods and prepare his bowl.

“Papa, let’s use the pool.” Saine told his father. More like a warning, to be frank.

“Oh.” Idris immediately knew what his son meant. “Excuse me for asking this, but are you perhaps the last Sterling alive right now, Iolana?”

Iolana nods, “That’s correct.”

“Well, the pool it is!” Idris listened to his son and brought some bottles of potion with him. His feeling was right, he will be exhausted today.

They walked together to the pool, Idris took off his shoes and socks, then sat by the pool.

“Sit next to me, Iolana.” Idris told her with a smile on his face. How could she say no?

She took off her own shoes and socks. Saine, Jestel, and Jusarlie immediately looked away. 1700s is so funny. When she sits next to Idris, they’re looking at the pool again. Flustered.

“Have you… take off your socks?” Saine is confused. Under the dim light, Iolana looks like she’s still wearing her socks.

“She’s just almost as pale as Sarco and you, Saine.” Idris chuckled.

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” Saine is flustered again.

“Now, Iolana. Shall we begin?” Idris looks at Iolana again.

Iolana nods calmly, showing that she’s ready.

Idris begins the ritual. He poured two bottles of his potions into the pool. He touched the pool and stirred the water to the right. “Could you tell us what you see?”

“A dining table?” Iolana is confused.

“Can you tell us what’s on that table?”

“Five empty plates and one apple in the middle of the table.” Iolana explained.

“Five? Wow! Do you see any marks on the empty plates?” Idris asked again.

“Yes. Lion, snowflake, cat, sun, and a broken crown?” Iolana is so confused.

Oh, the four of them hit the mind links together.

Idris stirs the water to his right again. “Now, what do you see?”

“The apple cut in half. It’s flying over the plates, it looks confused.”

Idris laughs. It is indeed funny. He stirs the water again, “How about now?”

“It’s changing every second, I don’t know.” Iolana frowned.

“Do you want to explain it to us?”

“One second, it’s on the snowflake plate and the cat. Next second, the snowflake and the sun.”

“Ah! Does the apple have one frequent destination?”

“I don’t think so, the apple is really confused.”

Idris laughs again. “You’re adorable.” He stirs the water again.

Iolana doesn’t have to be told this time. “I see five love letters.”

“Okay, I can understand now. How about now?” Idris stirs the water to the right again.

“I see Saine crying.” Iolana still looks confused.

“Do you know why?” Idris is kind of surprised.

“I lied, it’s actually Jestel.” Iolana giggled. She’s in a goofy mood.

The four of them are dumbfounded. The last time Idris successfully lied to was when they were having pioneers’ dinner, and the very person who lied to him was Tearle Sterling. Yes, Iolana’s father himself.

“Why am I crying?” The said person is as confused.

“I’m not sure, you look very… devastated?” Iolana is concerned.

“That’s odd!” Idris stirs the water again.

“There’s a throne.” Iolana answered.

“Who sits on it?” Idris asked.

Iolana remains silent.

“Iolana? It’s okay, you can say it.” Jestel said softly.

Can’t you read her mind? Jusarlie asked Idris through mind links.

I swear on Roberto Cairneye, I can’t read this little girl at all, Idris answered.

“It’s Jestel.” Iolana finally answered. “…or me.”

They’re definitely surprised by that.

“And that’s also my omen of Sterling.” Idris giggled. “What a coincidence, right?”

“It’s just a possibility, right? I would never do that to Jestel.” Iolana is worried about her own future.

“Yes! Don’t worry, Iolana.” Idris’ smile is so reassuring. He stirs the water again. “Do you see something?”

“Few things. Sword, crown, herbs, map, books, potions.”

Saine’s jaw dropped at that one. Idris just nods, not wanting Iolana to feel uncomfortable.

“Before I explain your results, let me talk with Jestel first. Are you okay with that, Iolana?” Idris asked her.

Iolana nods at the question, “Can I wear my shoes back?”

“Of course, Iolana.” Idris chuckled, he dried his feet with a spell and put his shoes back. “Let’s go, Jestel.”

Iolana gets her feet out of the water, Jusarlie and Saine immediately look away again.

“Hey, Saine. Could you do the spell that your father just casted for himself?” Iolana asked at Saine.

“Is it okay for you—you know…” If Saine is a human, he’s blushing pink right now.

“Yeah, of course!”

“Excuse me, Iolana.” Saine said before looking towards Iolana. He swings his hand above Iolana’s bare feet while casting the spell.

“Wow, you should teach me that!” Iolana is amazed. “Thank you, Saine.”

“N-no problem.” Saine looks away again.

“Just to let you know, it’s okay to look at me. I grew up being okay with my feet on display at home.”

“It’s just… we feel like a pervert…” Saine admitted.

“I wonder what’s the limit of dressing here in Krashoviel.” Iolana laughed. “I’m done. You are safe to look.”

Jusarlie and Saine hesitantly look toward Iolana again. They feel relieved when her feet are fully covered with her long skirt and shoes again.

“The girls are usually covering their feet, that’s why we act that way earlier.” Jusarlie explained.

“I want to be controversial and show my ankle to the streets.” Iolana giggled.

“No, no, no!” Jusarlie and Saine panicked. “Arms are okay, but ankle? Wow, that’s pornographic.”

“That’s confusing.” Iolana nods. “What about chest area? How far can the neckline go?”

“Chest area is okay, as long as the breasts are not like… full on display? Ankles, however, is a big no.” Saine explained. “I feel like invading your privacy earlier when casting that spell.”

Iolana laughed. Krashoviel is so funny for her, when it’s just her who doesn’t even leave her house before going to Krashoviel. She’s lucky she’s easy-going and pretty.

“Drink this, don’t you feel tired?” Saine hands her a glass of questionable drink.

“Not really.” Iolana accepts the glass. “Oh, what is this?”

She smelled the drink, and it smelled like strawberry! She drinks it without hesitation until the last drop. “I like it! What is this? Strawberry juice?”

Curiosity kills the cat!

“Our bloods.” Saine grins.

“Oh?” Iolana is concerned. “What would that do? Whose blood?”

“Three of us. It can give you strength! And you can summon us anytime you want when you need it. You can also talk to us through telepathy.” Saine explained excitedly.

“Summon you? How?” Iolana is interested in this.

“Just say our name and say you need us. For example, Jusarlie I need you.” Jusarlie explained further.

“Oh! I get it.” Iolana nods. “But why? Isn’t that… personal? Don’t you think I need to gain your trusts first?”

“You already did.”

It feels too fast for Iolana, but she accepts it as it is. She’s grateful that they care about her a lot, but are they?

—

“Jestel, that was the most entertaining reading that I ever did. I thanked you for that.” Idris is giggling non-stop.

“Elaborate, please.” Jestel is frustrated.

“You will fight your best friends.” Idris started off so strong. “You, Saine, Jusarlie, Sarco, and Hiael.”

“Why?” Jestel asked, still oblivious.

“You’re going to fall in love with Iolana. All of you.” Idris stated. “Some of you already did, I checked my son and he’s already blooming for her.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.” Jestel shook his head.

“Love never makes any sense, Jestel.” One thing about Idris is that he hits hard with his words, accidentally or not. “Especially the throne for her vamp host. You’re going to fight really dirty for that. I can see it.”

“Nonsense.” Jestel scoffed.

“I won’t help you if you cry someday.” Idris threatened him. Scares him for sure, where will Jestel run to for advice if not Idris?

“What should I do about this?” Jestel is stressed out.

“Accept it.” Idris calmly told him.

“What can I do to make her choose me?”

“That remains a mystery.” Idris doesn’t know either. “I’m more surprised you’re not bringing up anything about the throne. You already fell for her, don’t you?”

“No. I just trust her.” Jestel explained himself.

“You gave her your blood, along with Saine and Jusarlie.” Idris points that out.

“She’s a human, Idris. I just want to protect her.”

“Sure, sure. Protect her. When we all know it’s special and intimate.” Idris mocked him.

“It’s not that intimate.”

“Imagine she chose Sarco as her vamp host.” Idris immediately puts a scenario.

“Fine, it is intimate.”

“Best of luck, Jestel.” Idris taps his shoulder a few times. “It’s going to be anything but easy.”

“She’s not capable of wiping out the whole Sinflame, right? She’s lovely, she would never do that.” Jestel asked Idris for reassurance.

“Not yet. However, if I was you… I would never get on her wrong side. She’s a complicated girl.”

—

“Your father is so majestic.” Iolana admitted. Truly smitten by Saine’s father.

“You think I’m ugly?” Saine acts like he has been hurt.

“I never said that.” Iolana is still giggling over Idris.

“Don’t feed his ego, Iolana.” Jusarlie scoffed.           

“Get over it, Jusarlie. She thinks I’m handsome.” Saine is being cocky right now.

“Your father reminds me of a pine tree.” Iolana sudden words silenced them.

Jusarlie and Saine is so confused. There’s no way she just said that like it’s a normal thing to do.

“I can’t believe we lose you to Sarco’s species.” Saine faked a sigh.

“Species is insane.” Jusarlie laughs. “Why a pine tree?”

“Tall, look good, calming, I don’t know? He reminds me of it.”

“Bloody hell, she really is a Sarco’s species.” Jusarlie couldn’t believe it.

“Why Sarco?” Iolana is curious.

“He’s odd. Just like you. I don’t mean it in a bad way, it’s creative. Sometimes we just… don’t understand.” Saine explained. “He did that a lot, saying I look like the lamp near south’s stairs and so on.”

“You should show me the lamp later.” Iolana is invested now.

“Hey, small question, but if you don’t want to answer it’s fine. What happened to your hair? Did you get punished?” Jusarlie suddenly hits Iolana with a personal and nosy question.

Iolana expects this with her a little bit over the shoulder-length hair. It is unusual for a girl to have hair that short, at least in their era.

“Well, it was an accident. It got cut by my brother when we were practicing sword, so my mom cut it all to this length.” Iolana explained. “I’m waiting for it to be long again. It’s troublesome, I can’t tie it properly, yet it’s annoying enough to be left undone like this.”

Jusarlie and Saine nod in unison.

Idris and Jestel went back to the pool area. Jestel looks stressed, while Idris looks happy. What a weird combination.

“Iolana, do you mind if I ask you to lend us your power?” Idris asked.

“Huh? I have power?” Iolana is confused again.

“Bigger than you think.” Idris giggled. “We are also testing it out.”

“Sure, if it’s for a good reason…” Iolana is totally unsure.

“We are going to search for Jestel’s long lost brother, Holstein.” Idris explained briefly.

“But I don’t know what he looks like?” Iolana is still questioning him.

“You will, if you succeed.” Idris smiles warmly. “Would you do it?”

Iolana nods after a few seconds of hesitation. She sits between Idris and Jestel, making half of a circle.

“Saine, Jusarlie, let’s go.” Idris points at the empty seats.

“You need us as well?” Jusarlie questioned but obeyed.

“You were just doing nothing, so why not?” Idris is an entertaining man for sure.

They held each other’s hands. For the first time ever, Jestel could understand what the romance books were talking about. The electricity and the butterflies, he feels them now.

“I seek upon Holstein Sinflame whereabouts,” as Idris said those words, there is a big cloud forming over Cairneye’s mansion. Thunder begins to growl, lightning begins to show.

They close their eyes, focusing on the name Holstein Sinflame.

They begin to see a vision. A palace, but not Krashiovel’s palace.

“Whose vision is this?” Jestel asked.

“Iolana.” Idris answered.

“Have you found the girl?” Holstein asked them.

“She killed herself along with her father, Your Highness.”

“Did you see her face? Is it really her?” Holstein asked again.

“No, but there is no way she could run away. We’ve blocked all the access.”

“Tearle is the smartest vampire that I’ve ever met. She could be in Krashoviel now with my stupid brother.” The Prince of Slevado is furious.

“That would be the same as suicide, her blood smells so fucking sweet.” Holstein chuckled. “Where is she?”

“Holstein, you must come back to Krashoviel and fetch that girl.”

“Unnecessary, I think she’s gone.”

The vision turns black again, the clouds are nowhere to be found, the thunder is no longer roaring.

“Wow, he’s a traitor.” Saine couldn’t believe what he just saw.

Idris was the only one laughing, he couldn’t contain it. “It’s so funny, you’re swapping brothers.”

Iolana holds back her giggle, she doesn’t want to be rude.

“Thank you, Iolana.” Idris has stopped laughing. “We wouldn’t make it without you, we’ve tried for hundred years to get a vision of Holstein.”

“I didn’t do that much, I’m glad I could help.” Iolana is still oblivious about her real power, buried deep down under that human form.

“Here’s your test result, make sure you read it alone without them lurking.” Idris intentionally whispered loudly.

“I will lurk.” Saine smiles.

“Have some class.” Idris faked a sigh.

“We’ll head out, Idris. Thank you for your service.” Jestel stood up, the others followed.

“Bye, Papa.” Saine waves at his father.

“Don’t come back.”

“You see? He’s not as handsome as you think, Iolana.” Saine used that as a way to show her his father’s teasing habit.

“Forgivable if he has that elf type of face.” Iolana giggled.

“Aw, you flustered me.” Idris chuckled at Iolana. She has a sense of humor too!

“Let’s go.” Jestel is not having it. Well, at least now he knows that he truly fell for her.

—

Saine is being told to look after Iolana while the others held emergency meeting for the third time today, of course he enjoys this! They’re currently putting Iolana’s clothes into the wardrobe.

“I think you have good eyes for apparels. I want your wardrobe.” Saine adores Iolana’s taste in fashion. “Ah, the trousers! Where did you get these?”

“Come on, Saine. Those are just my casual and practice clothes. I got it from my human maids.” Iolana chuckled. “I love my pretty dresses, but I barely get to wear it.”

“You will wear it more often now, there are so many events that we usually have to attend.” Saine informed her. “Ah, you don’t have any ball gowns! Do you want to go to Charson? You’ll need some gowns for royal ball and Jestel’s birthday.”

“Is it far?” Iolana asked.

“Not really, but we need to cover your scent.” Saine chuckled. “I’ll put some spell on you. It could last for two hours, at least.”

—

“Don’t play with me, Jestel. What do you mean Holstein is a traitor?” Sarco shook his head.

“That’s what we saw.” Jusarllie admitted.

“They must’ve brainwashed our Holstein,” Odelia, the queen on the throne, scoffed. Clearly annoyed.

“Hiael betrayed his nation by his own will, it is not an impossibility if Holstein ever do the same.” Idris shrugged his shoulder. “However, this Sterling girl…”

“What Sterling girl?” Raphael, the queen’s brother, is shocked.

“She came with this letter.” Jestel gave them the letter that Tearle wrote.

“She’s back? Here? In Krashoviel?” Sullivan, the queen’s father, is puzzled.

“She could end your bloodline.” Idris said without any burden.

“I’d rather be dead than to fight back, it’s no use.” Sullivan chuckled. “Oh, Sterling.”

“Are Sterling that dangerous?” Wilhelmina, Jestel’s niece, is too young to watch how frightening Sterling can be back then in the war field.

“I’m really scared of them, take that information as you wish.” Sullivan said to his great-granddaughter.

“Oh!” Wilhelmina is surprised. “Is she beautiful?”

“Very.” Jestel answered. “I would do anything for her.”

“In front of your queen aunt is just insane, Jestel.” Idris laughed at his son.

“I don’t blame him.” Jusarlie stands with him.

“They fell for her charm,” Sarco scoffed. “I would ne—”

“Careful, now.” Idris warned Sarco. “You will fall for her too. I saw it.”

“Who else?” Odelia asked her son.

“Saine and Hiael. The five of them will fight to be her vamp host.” Idris informed them.

“This is ridiculous, let’s just kill that girl.” Raphael is furious. “She will tear us apart.”

“If Sinflame is no longer worthy of the throne, then just let it be.” Odelia is calmer than the others.

“What on earth are you saying, Odelia?” Raphael is getting more furious. What an old grumpy man.

“Grandma Odelia is not wrong.” Wilhelmina is against his father.

“Father, look at this—” Raphael seeks Sullivan’s support.

“I’m not going to say anything.” Sullivan is busy cleaning each of his gemstones.

“That girl won’t do it by herself, right? Who are the potential traitors?” Raphael asked Idris.

“Have you ever done a friendly practice with Tearle?” Idris questioned him back.

“No, why?”

“Then you are not in the place to say that.” Sullivan makes it clear. “One Sullivan equals five Sinflame. Train her as hard as you can, give her the best facility, and don’t you dare to let other nations have her.”

“Yes, Grandpa.” Jestel nods.

“When will you sit on the throne, Jestel?” Odelia asked, she’s tired of the kingdom’s bullshits.

“As soon as possible, I’m still preparing myself.” Jestel feels a heavy weight on his shoulders. He can’t control his feelings toward Iolana, that is what bothers him the most right now.

—

“Mr. Cairneye! Oh, my vamp, close the shop!” The receptionist panicked when he saw Saine smiling at him.

The workers immediately temporarily close the shop, the other guests who are waiting outside are getting used to it now. Must be one of the pioneers making some sudden appearance.

“How can we help you, Your Highness?” The shop workers are ready to serve him.

“I’d like some ball gowns for this cute little girl.” Saine pushed Iolana slightly.

“Of course, we’ll measure her.” Two of the workers quickly measured Iolana, while the others asked Saine about the gown’s details.

“What’s your favorite color, Iolana?” Saine questioned her. “You can name five.”

“White and pink. As for the others, I’ll leave it to you. I trust you.” Iolana is never failed to make Saine feels so… flustered.

“White, pink, blue, red, and purple.” Saine told the worker.

“Which shade, Your Highness?”

“Actually… make it six. White, violet, navy, sky blue, maroon, and pink. Maybe a bold pink like this one? Iolana, do you like it?” Saine asked her again.

“Loves it.” Iolana stares adoringly at the color that Saine just showed her. It’s almost fuchsia, just a little less bold.

“Pardon me, Your Highness. She looks unfamiliar to me, is she a new citizen? I’ve never seen her before.” Jeremy asked Saine, trying to be as polite as possible.

“Yes, she is. She’s Iolana Sterling, Jeremy.”

“S-Sterling, Your Highness?”

“She has a perfect body proportion.” One of the measurement workers said to the other.

“Thank you.” Iolana whispered to them.

“We apologize, we didn’t mean to…”

“It’s okay. I love your compliment. You’re being genuine.” Iolana smiles. “I’m done, Saine.”

She walked to Saine as he smiled at her proudly.

“Payment should be here by tomorrow morning. Thank you for your service, Jeremy.” Saine informed the owner of that grand boutique.

“Always happy to be at your service, Your Highness and Lady Sterling. Thank you for trusting us.” The workers and Jeremy bow a little to show their respect and devotion towards the pioneers.

They walked out of Charson and went home instantly. After they got back to Iolana’s room, Saine seemed confused.

“Are you not going to ask anything about them referring me as… you know?”

“Jusarlie told me about the royal family’s tree. I was a little surprised, I’m so sorry I interacted with you so casually.” Iolana admitted, feeling a little guilty.

“No, no! Keep being casual, we’re equal.” Saine quickly reassured her. “No one dares to challenge a Sterling, not even the oldest Sinflame alive. You’re still a part of the pioneers.”

Pioneers.

It sounds incredibly weird for Iolana, but deep down in her heart… it feels just right.

TO BE CONTINUED...

; YOUR CUTE REBLOGS AND COMMENTS MAKE ME FEEL REALLY GRATEFUL <3 ; FEEL FREE TO HIT MY ASK IF YOU HAVE ANY QUESTION ABOUT THE WORLD BUILDING OR CHARACTER!

© ily-sunghoon, 2024 DO NOT COPY, STEAL, PLAGIARIZE, OR REPOST ON OTHER PLATFORM DO NOT TRANSLATE WITHOUT PERMISSION

[f0lly-melanch0lys-world]

Since it's officially Spooky Season, I can finally share this.... A Hazbin Halloween! For a bonding exercise and for an excuse to hold an event in the new facilities, Charlie decided to incorporate human holidays into the Hotel

Let's have a look at everyone's costume choice:

- Niffty - Chose the Wednesday Addams outfit, thought it was a kind of maid outfit at first. "Felt cute, might stab some guests later."

- Lucifer - Panicked about finding the perfect costume. Originally wanted to be a duck, tried to be Count Duckula but couldn't handle the fake vampire teeth. Shape shifted throughout the evening, kept losing his hat

- Keekee - Charlie put little bat wings on her, she kept taking them off but Niffty would follow her around and put them back on, the glare is personal

- Evelyn (OC) - Chose her costume, Sally, to compliment Alastor's (they're in a complicated QPR), made the dress herself, hated having her hair down because it got in the way all night

- Alastor - Did not want to participate (Lucifer persuaded him). Eventually settled on Jack Skellington so he could still wear a suit. Didn't wear his monocle and was completely colourblind and partially sighted all night, Evelyn had to guide him around but he could still dance. Vowed to never participate in this silly tradition again

- Vaggie - Only dressed up for Charlie. Carmilla helped her make her costume (there's supposed to be leaves on the leggings but it didn't save 😫). Went for one of the more covered Poison Ivy costumes, didn't spray her hair because the smell of the spray on Charlie's gave her a headache. Actually enjoyed dressing up

- Charlie - Had to match with Vaggie. Originally thought of Joker and Harley Quinn for costumes but after reading about the Joker she changed her mind. Used so much hairspray that there was a cloud of smog around the Hotel (Pentious thought he was back in the 1800s), made her own costume. Tried every Halloween cocktail, was definitely tipsy by the end of the night

- Cherri - Couldn't make up her mind but went for Lara Croft because she's "a badass bitch". Did have guns but Charlie confiscated them. Also tried all of the cocktails but she can handle her alcohol better than Charlie

- Angel - Had been looking for an excuse to wear this outfit for months. Really enjoyed being Catwoman. Was going to wear the mask but it made him feel claustrophobic so he just stuck some cardboard ears on a headband, the mask fit Fat Nuggets so Angel put it on him so he wouldn't feel left out. Charlie confiscated the whip because she was afraid he'd hit lightbulbs and guests

- Husk - Also did not want to participate. Alastor told him that if he had to do it, so did he. Grumbled the entire time Angel painted his wings. Didn't mind the mask but it did irritate his whiskers after a while. Was really proud of the themed cocktail menu. Made sure to throw out guests that kept harassing the people who were in more "revealing" costumes. Fed a drunk mobster to Alastor after the guy wouldn't leave Angel alone

- Pentious - Arrived late. Accidentally left his costume (Indiana Jones) at the embassy, was about to cry then Cherri came up with an idea. She found some bandages, tinted them with makeup and wrapped them around him. Really enjoyed the night and the costumes overall

Honourable mentions:

- Mammon - Came as Oogie Boogie. Spent the evening critiquing everyone's costumes, ate so many sweets he passed out

- Frank and the Egg Bois - Angel painted them to look like an Exeggute (nerds make for some interesting conversations after sex) . Were completely confused for the entire night, almost got stepped on several times

- Vox - Played jump scares on his screen throughout the evening

- Velvette - Came as a creepy antique, yet stylish doll. Kept spinning her head around 360° and popping out her limbs

- Alictoria (Alice OC) - Couldn't decide on what to be, let Velvette pick her costume (they're dating). Ended up also being an antique stylish doll, forgot her contact lenses so was also colour blind and partially sighted until Alastor managed to locate her spare pair of glasses that she'd left at the Hotel (what else are younger brothers for)

Original Hazbin Hotel characters and original character designs to Viv ©

[louissatturi]

Would this character be invited in a paulkins wedding? (I'm ignoring forever and always just because)

Tom Houston and Tim Houston - they are what rested of emma's family (Jane) so even if they warent in the best terms she would invite them

Emma's parents- she would NOT invite them, because they are probably dead or abusive since she dosen't talk about them AT ALL

Ziggy - Emma probably would already have her pot farm and this is basicly the only canon Emma friend we ever get in the whole Hatchetfield verse series

Professor Hidgens- i think she would get super close to him and invite him out of pity

Linda Monroe- "this dosent make sanse, Emma would 1000% hate linda" well do you think linda Monroe would simplily NOT attend the wedding of the sister of her dead friend? Also she would give some nice gift since she is rich and stuff

Overall Emma would have a very small guest section and she wouldn’t invite a lot of people

PAUL IN THE OTHER HAND!

Paul's family - Paul is a avarege men, he would 100% invite all his biológical family even tho he dosen't like all his family menbers

Bill and Alice WoodWard - that is his BestFriendForever out here! Not only that but Bill is also his best men (Alice was also invited because Bill wanted her there)

Charlotte Sweetly - he thought it would be a nice way to make her more chill and he took pity on her talking about her wedding and she would help them with the preperations

Ted Spankoffski - he did't wanted to invite him but the ted confronted him about it and then he was invited

General McNamara: i think they would be besties in every timeline they meet and i think he would LOVE weddings

Barry Swifty - i just think it's funny that he is there in forever and always and i like to think that he is besties with paukins for some random reason

Mr Davidson- he is 100% scared of his boss and invited him just to keep face

Melissa - i just think it's funny Melissa being there because she canonicly has a crush on him and HATES Emma

Characters that warent invited but are there because they are the + 2 of the people invited

Becky Barnes- Defenily not tom's girlfriend

Deb - bill was NOT happy to having to deal with deb but their relationship is better

Sylvia - she is his girlfriend in forever and always and i want a bill with a good romantic love life sorry

Frank - i shipp him with Barry sorry (jeff and corey have INSANE quimistry)

Pete Spankoffski - he was dragged along because ted wanted to show him how to pick up woman in weddings

The random peep agent that joey played in tgwdlm - okay this is basicly a saf-Hatchetfield oc because of the headcannon that actor joey ritcher have that his character is MacNamara son and i loved it so much so yeah he is there and his name is Owen MacNamara and he has a boyfriend named Agent Curt Mega, sorry

[rizzoliandislesecretsanta]

DETECTIVES

Jane Rizzoli • Vince Korsak • Barry Frost • Frankie Rizzoli Jr. • Sean Cavanaugh • Nina Holiday • Riley Cooper • Darren Crowe • Rafael Martinez

FORENSICS

Maura Isles • Susie Chang • Kent Drake • T. Pike

FAMILIES

Angela Rizzoli • Frank Rizzoli Sr. • Tommy Rizzoli • TJ Rizzoli

Constance Isles • Arthur Isles

Hope Martin • Cailin Martin

Colin Doyle

ANTAGONISTS

Charles Hoyt • Warren Hoyt • Patrick Doyle • Dominick Bianchi • Alice Sands • Dennis Rockmond

F.B.I.

Gabriel Dean • Cameron Davies

MISCELLANEOUS

Casey Jones • Catherine Cordell • Stanley • Ian Faulkner • Giovanni Gilberti • Jack Armstrong • Rondo • Tasha Williams • Kiki • OC

PAIRINGS

(Friendship • Romantic)

Jane Rizzoli/Maura Isles • Jane Rizzoli/Casey Jones • Jane Rizzoli/Gabriel Dean • Jane Rizzoli/Rafael Martinez • Jane Rizzoli/Barry Frost

Maura Isles/Ian Faulkner • Maura Isles/Kent Drake • Maura Isles/Tommy Rizzoli • Maura Isles/Frankie Rizzoli Jr. • Maura Isles/Barry Frost • Maura Isles/Jack Armstrong

Barry Frost/Frankie Rizzoli Jr. • Barry Frost/Vince Korsak

Vince Korsak/Kiki • Vince Korsak/Jane Rizzoli

Frankie Rizzoli Jr./Nina Holiday

Angela Rizzoli/Sean Cavanaugh

PLACES

Precinct • Homicide Squad Room • BRIC • Ballistics Shooting Range • Autopsy Room • Labs • Maura's office • Division One Café

Jane's condo • Maura's house • Maura's guest house • Jane's house (season 6/7) • Frankie's appartment • Korsak's house • The Dirty Robber

Hospital • Other places

TROPES

Chosen One • Dark Lord • Dystopian Society • Enemies to Lovers • Fake Relationship • Forbidden Love Romance • Friends to Lovers • Haunted House • Hero's Journey • Love At First Sight • Love Triangles • Magic Mentor • Mean Girl • Prophecy Foretold • One Bed • Queer Relationships • Race Against Time • Soulmates

GENRES

Adventure • Angst • Bromance • Crime • Drama • General • Family • Fantasy • Friendship • Horror • Humour • Hurt/Comfort • Mystery • Poetry • Romance • Sci-Fi • Supernatural • Suspense • Thriller • Tragedy • Whump

VERSES

Alternative Universe • Books • TV Show

This is a non-exhaustive list that can be completed over time.

[papermint-airplane]

Give your OCs a sword or whatever this meme was called Idk I could look it up but I'm too lazy

I was tagged for this Picrew by @anamoon63, @bool-prop, @silwermoon-sims, @faeriefrolic and I think one other person I couldn't find in my mentions. Wow, y'all really want me to give Aiden a sword! You know he's gonna hurt himself, right? 😭

This is exactly what that fool would come up with, I feel it in my bones. It's pretty, it's impractical, it's ridiculous. The little danglies aren't silver, they're clear. They're cubic zirconia. He'd never actually use it because he'd be too busy running from whatever the threat was but he'd like to have it hanging on the wall so he could look at it from time to time. I'd have to physically restrain him from making the whole thing a solid pink. That was an option, by the way. It was positively h i d e o u s.

I made one for Roman as well. He likes bats and light bondage themes in his attire, and also he's semi-aquatic. It suits him. He would actually use it. Probably for cooking. Probably while screaming, "I HAVE THE POWER" as he slices a loaf of bread with it while his dinner guests look on in bewildered horror. Please don't actually give Roman a sword.

I almost never include Rio in these things because they rarely ever have options I feel like she would pick herself. But this one...it just had a vibe to it. I imagined Rio at a Ren Faire or something telling the booth guy what she wants and him just judging the hell out of her for how boringly practical it is.

Sword Customizer: That's...that's it? Just a plain sword?

Rio: What do you mean? It's not plain, I put a ribbon on it.

Sword Customizer: Yeah but we have so many other options. You could make it sparkly, or look enchanted, or a rainbo--

Rio: What good is a sparkly rainbow sword going to do me in battle?

Sword Customizer: You're...not serious, right? You're not actually going to fight with this, right? This is a novelty shop. For tourists.

Rio: So? It's still pointy. It'll get the job done.

Sword Customizer: I--ok, as long as you sign the waiver, I don't care what you do with it when you leave here. Just don't mention me when the cops show up. Still, are you sure you don't want to add some of your personality to it? Something to represent a special interest of yours, perhaps?

Rio: Ugh, fine. *tapes a watch cog to the handle* Happy?

Sword Customizer: I haven't known happiness in a long time.

And just for funsies, here's one I'd make for myself. I have two modes: recovering Lisa Frank addict and 2004 Hot Topic edgelord. This is the former. Be grateful.

I think I'm the last to get to this meme again so I'm gonna do the cop out and tag anyone who hasn't done this and wants to do it and you can say I tagged you personally. 😌

[imagoddamnonionmason]

Holidays At The Mason Home - Chapter 5: Slice Of A Nicer Life

Fandom: Call Of Duty: Cold War

Word Count: 6358

Character(s): Alex Mason, Frank Woods, (Toddler) David Mason, Female OCs: Sarah Mason, Female OCs: Jodie "Bell" Hall

Author Note: a big chapter, sorry guys! Basically, chaos and adorableness are in this chapter, so please enjoy!

NO TRIGGER WARNINGS APPLY

It had been a few days since their arrival and it had been easy for four of the five people to settle into a pattern, one they had done for many years before when Frank had come to visit. As for Bell, she had been finding it difficult to sleep easy in a new place and by the time she would fall asleep it would be the early hours of the morning; then, she’d find herself sleeping in against her will. 

That morning, there were four people in the kitchen-dining room and sitting at the table was David, Alex and Frank. A pot of freshly done, steaming hot black coffee was nestled in the centre of it, pushed further to the side of the men. There were also the remnants of breakfast, crumbs and a spare slice of toast on a plate, while David still held onto his empty bowl of porridge. He had eaten most of it, while the dregs were around his mouth and dripping down the side of the bowl - he showed it to his Mum, proudly, and then to his Dad and Uncle Woods. All three had praised him in their own ways, causing the child to beam at them with a toothy grin. 

“Oh, you do like to make a mess,” Sarah commented as she took a damp, clean cloth and started to wipe her son’s face. At first, he wriggled and writhed in her motherly grip.

Alex, who sat across from his son, a half eaten slice of toast in his hand, raised his brows at David, a silent order to stop misbehaving or see what would happen. Beside Alex, Frank was sitting with a newspaper in hand. He was idly reading the articles, not entirely taking in their information, but rather giving himself something to wake him up. He peered over the top of the newspaper to see David still causing a slight ruckus, then sidelong at his friend to see the stare become a glare. Woods chuckled, “oh, kid, you better start behaving.” 

David stilled, nodding affirmatively, as Frank took a sip from his newly poured cup of coffee. Above the boy, Sarah mouthed ‘thank you’ for their help, managing to finish cleaning him up. Sarah ruffled her son’s dark hair, lightly prodding the tip of his nose before she collected the pots and cutlery from the tabletop, most of which had been dirtied by the mischievous toddler. As she carried the collection into the kitchen side of the room, placing them down by the sink, she turned back to the men, “either of you want anything else before I start cleanin’ up? I’ve saved some breakfast for Jodie once she comes down.” 

Lifting his coffee-filled cup, Woods said, “got what I need here.” 

“Not for me, honey,” Alex added, “need any help?” 

He had asked this as he rose from his seat, coming to stand behind his wife as she started to run the tap, hand under the mildly warm water to gauge when it was the right temperature. His hands rested on her hips and she leant back into him, as she replied, “nope. All good here.” 

Sarah started to wash the pots once the basin was filled with hot water and sufficient suds of soap floated along the water's surface. Usually, Alex would help with things like this, but when guests were around he knew better than to interfere with her process without asking. Given she didn’t want his help, he returned to the table, hovering at the edge as his knuckles wrapped on the surface, “so, plan for today, Sarah and I are going to the store to pick up a few things. After, we go out to the usual spot, take the rifles, take out a couple of cans.” 

“We can watch David while you’re out,” Frank offered, meaning himself and Bell. He then nodded in agreement with the latter part of the plan. He and Mason often went out into the woods by his home, rifle in hand, and talked about anything while shooting the shit out of some unsuspecting bottles and cans. It was a habitual pastime and it would likely never change. 

“Don’t you two do anything other than shoot things?” Sarah appeared as though she was complaining, but really she was having a good natured jab at the two men. The smile she wore on her face proved so. 

Woods scoffed, “sometimes we shoot people.” 

“Frank.” She gasped, turning to him to offer a chiding look, though it was betrayed by the smile on her features and the look of laughter in her eyes. 

Alex laughed, before he gave his wife a lovingly amused look, “it’ll only be for a couple of hours.” 

“Can I come?” David asked, looking at his Dad pleadingly. Alex shook his head, and Sarah firmly said, “absolutely not, David, you are three years old.” 

In all honesty, David didn’t know what they were talking about, he just wanted to go with them. But, his Mum had spoken and what she said was always final. Alex placed his hand on top of his son’s head, keeping it there for a little while, “there ya go, buddy, Mom says no.” 

The little boy huffed, then placed his head in his hands as he sulked against the table. Frank watched him amused, but said nothing. 

David’s sulking did not last for long, however, and as Alex took his seat back down next to Frank, the boy excitedly chirped, “Uncle Woods! Uncle Woods!” 

Without looking up from the paper, folded over onto itself so he could hold in one hand, Woods hummed, “what is it, kid?” 

“Is Dodie my auntie now?” the boy asked, standing on his chair, causing Alex to give him another stern look to sit back down. But David was too excited, having remembered what his parents had said some nights before. Uncle Woods was married to Dodie and that meant he had an auntie now.

Frank narrowed his eyes on the boy, tilting his head to the side as he shifted in his chair. Sometimes Frank noticed that kids often spoke about or brought up the most random of topics and this topic had left him quite confused, “uh… I don’t…Jodie isn’t…” 

“Have you ever? Um, thought that. That you, um, that you, would you,” David heaved a sigh reserved for men three times his age and everyone was surprised with his exasperation, “you wanted- you want. That you want her to do you so much you were married?” 

Hot coffee spilled over the edges of the cup, running over Frank’s fingers, as he felt some of the liquid catch in his throat, causing him to snort and splutter. The liquid scalded his chin, his lips, his hand, and it had splashed onto the table; Frank couldn’t recover as smoothly as he wished, as the coffee caught in his throat continued to rob him of air. He choked, as he fought to place down the cup slowly. 

Alex could not help the laughter that escaped him, a hand slapping Frank’s back in an attempt to help him out, but it was weakened by his amusement. It was not every day that Alex got to see something make his friend lose his composure and the mere fact it was his toddler son made the situation all the more funny. Sarah rushed over with some paper towels, wiping down the table and offering some to the spluttering man, though she bit down on her lip to stop herself from laughing alongside her husband. 

David watched on, innocently, as Sarah then came to him and picked him up, saying “I think it’s time I got you dressed.” 

Sarah made a quick exit from the kitchen with her son, exchanging her presence with a fully dressed Bell. The brunette had entered with a yawn, hand covering her mouth as she tiredly murmured ‘morning’. The sentiment was returned hurriedly by Sarah, which caused Bell to pause in her movements and watch after her for a moment. Then, she pointed in the direction of the stairs from her position in the kitchen doorway, a frown on her features, “is everything alright?” 

Alex’s laughter was still present but less rowdy and he waved Bell down to the seat at the end of the table. He attempted to tell her what had happened, as the woman then let her wide-eyed gaze land on Frank; his white vest had small stained spots of brown, a cough still rattling in his throat, and his hand clutching a paper towel for his life, like it would help in any way to gather much needed oxygen into his lungs. Alex failed to speak, however, as each attempt was spoiled by a new bout of incessant laughter, caused when he turned to look at Frank and was immediately reminded of the image of coffee coming out of his nose. 

Another burst of a laugh came out when Frank barely managed to force out, “fuck off, you prick.” 

Although Frank would like to have the room think he was furious that he was being laughed at, it was difficult to believe when the anger was lost in translation by the interrupting coughs and splutters from his heaving chest. He eventually caught his breath, leaning forward on the table with his head resting in his hands comically, “where’d the hell that come from?” 

Alex Mason, for the life of him, could not begin to explain to the woman what had actually happened, unsure as to whether he would be able to accurately reenact what his son had said or even do the scene justice with his words. It truly had been a situation you had to be there to witness and he found it criminal that she had been a few mere moments late and missed the spectacle. Instead, he opted for slapping Frank on his shoulder in a light friendly manner, a sort of apology for laughing at him in a time of critical need, then mentioned, “my son thinks you’re married.” 

“Ok,” Bell replied, shrugging.

“To him.” Alex jutted his thumb towards his best friend. 

Bell sighed.

Alex offered, “he must have heard me mention what happened the other night, to Sarah.”

Her eyes settled on Frank again, who was rising out of his seat to go and pour the coffee into the kitchen sink. After that, he rinsed out the cup, gave it a quick wash, then put it to drain with the rest of the pots on the side. 

“And the stains on Woods’ chest are coffee, right?” She asked, having assumed what had happened, though the image in her mind was not enough to portray the amusement of the actual event. She added, sly smile on her face as she poured herself a coffee, “I thought David was the toddler here.” 

Behind her, Frank shot her an incredulous glare, biting his bottom lip to stop himself from replying.

A brief pause passed. 

“Hey, you don’t mind watching David for a few hours?” Alex asked, rising out of his chair and heading towards the kitchen door - he was going to join his wife in getting dressed for the day. 

She had frozen on the spot, much like a deer would have in the blaring headlights of an oncoming car, except she was the deer and the car was the simple question that now hovered around her. Bell could do nothing but stare at Alex, eyes wide, unblinking, as her cup hovered just in front of her lips, coffee teetering at the rim. There were twangs of worry that shocked the core of her gut, electrifying the nerves and short circuiting her brain. 

The woman did not feel as though she had earned the trust Mason was placing in her; she did not deserve it. But, there he was, asking for her to care for his child while he was out in the simplest of ways to showcase that trust. 

Through her mind were the racing thoughts of anxiety, merging into multiple voices and faces of people she had come across in her life, from those she had been forced to trust herself, those she had betrayed, those she had come to trust and had been betrayed by - they all seemed to speak to her, haunting her with the same rhetoric. 

They can’t trust you. You’re a woman with blood on your hands. You shouldn’t be anywhere near children. Why does he trust you? 

“Woods is sticking around,” Alex added, once he could see that she had faltered. Did she not like kids? Maybe he hadn’t thought about whether she’d be comfortable with it, it should have crossed his mind. Bell didn’t really know David, perhaps it was that. 

“He’s a good kid,” Frank said, coming to stand by her right, fingers lightly brushing over her shoulder. She found herself leaning into his touch, comforted by it, but murmured through a thick swallow, “won’t he be scared of me?” 

The two men chuckled, before they realised she wasn’t joking. 

Alex reassured her, “hey, that kid has already asked Uncle Woods if you’re his Aunt.” 

Wait, what? 

“Why would I- oh, because of,” she gestured between herself and Frank and they all silently nodded, “alright, that makes sense.” 

A beat. 

“I’ll look after him,” she said, choosing to ignore the anxious voices in her head. 

They retreated, for now, but she knew they would be back at some point, haunting her for a different purpose, at a different time. 

With that being said, Alex thanked her, then made his way upstairs to start getting ready; it was only half an hour later that the Mason family appeared downstairs, all dressed and ready to tackle the day ahead. Frank took his leave, heading to go shower and dress, as Alex and Sarah said their goodbyes and headed through the front door and into the snowy outside. 

There was the sound of Alex’s pickup truck starting and then it really was just her and a little boy stood next to each other in the hallway. Bell looked down at David and he looked up at her, hand in his mouth as he chewed on his fingers. She offered the boy a tight-lipped smile, before gesturing at him half-heartedly, “they probably don’t taste very nice.” 

“Uh-huh,” he replied, wiping his soggy hand down his shirt. Her smile softened and then he was waving his hands out at her, “up!” 

Staring at him, she stood in a pause, before he wiggled his fingers and demanded, “up! Up!” 

Gently, as though she feared she would snap him entirely in two, Bell lifted him up and into her arms. He snuggled into her side and wrapped his tiny arms around her, resting his head in the crook of her neck before giggling, “Auntie Dodie.” 

Her heart swelled, guiltily, unable to bring herself to correct the little boy that she was not such a thing to him; it caused a softness within her, something she had not felt for such a long, long time and she selfishly grasped onto it, even for a moment. But, now he was in her arms, she wondered exactly what she should do to keep him entertained - she couldn’t walk around with him for hours on end. With that in mind, she hummed, “what would you like to do, David, while Mum and Dad are gone?” 

“Hmm,” he pulled his head from where it had been laid against her neck, then put his hand on his forehead as he thought to himself. As he spoke, Bell made note that he hadn’t quite gotten the hang of saying his ‘r’s yet, instead the consonant being replaced with a ‘w’ sound. It made him all the more endearing, “radio! I want radio.” 

With an affirmative nod, she replied, “alright, radio it is.” 

Bell had remembered, when Sarah had ushered her around the house in a bid to show her where everything was, the radio was in the living room. The room itself was small and cosy, carpeted, and in the centre of the room was a low oak coffee table - surrounding it on two sides were a patterned, aged sofa and armchair, but clearly comfortable. There was one spot that dipped lower on the sofa, meaning it was someone's favourite place to perch. Beside the arms of the sofa were two, small side tables, hooded desk lamps nestled atop them, and picture frames of the Mason family. 

Against the wall opposite the sofa and armchair was a large cabinet, filled with records, tapes and ornaments in the top section, whereas the middle section was taken up by the TV. Below that, the cabinet had doors and behind them were two shelves, of which one housed the radio. There were some toys, crayons and colouring books that were kept there for safekeeping. Bell reminded herself to keep note of that, just in case David eventually got bored of the radio. 

The radio was a small black and silver box, with two circular dials on the left upper corner signalling FM and AM; the upper right corner had two knobs, one to swap between channels and the other to dictate tone, treble and bass. 

She had set David down on the carpeted floor next to the cabinet, whilst making sure he didn’t bump into the coffee table, and she picked up the radio. Her thumb hovered over the text in the top centre, Zenith, then switched it on and fiddled with the knobs. Bell did this until a station came through loud and clear, setting it down on the cabinet. 

There was a man talking for a little bit first, but David didn’t seem to care that music wasn’t playing just yet, instead already clapping his hands together and laughing delightfully. Bell watched, fondly, as the speaking then gave way for the beginning of a song. It was one she hadn’t heard for a while, but instantly recognised it as one of her favourites: These Boots Are Made For Walkin’ by Nancy Sinatra. 

At the time of its debut, Bell remembered being based somewhere in the north of Vietnam, tucked away from the war, but close enough to track radio signals and decode any military messages that would dance along the radio waves. She also recalled how she had stolen her own little radio, disappearing from time to time to tune into the westerner’s radio stations and listening to their music. 

A smile grew across her lips, as she watched David’s eyes light up and his body begin to move to the beat of the song. He bobbed up and down on the spot, occasionally jumping, before he reached out to Bell. Her hands caught his and she guided him in a small side-to-side dance, quietly singing along with the words on the old radio. It would crackle every now and again, but its signal remained strong and the volume stronger. 

After a moment, David pulled away from her, jiggling around on his own before he fell flat on his bottom. For a moment, she thought he might cry, but then he burst into laughter, the kind that captured you and dragged you in to join. Bell let a chuckle bubble in her throat, a genuine smile resting steadily on her features. 

“Sing!” David giggled, and Bell did, a little louder for him, even going as far as to put some flare into her movements. He was clapping, giggling, enjoying the show. 

You keep lyin’ when you ought to be truthin’

You keep losin’ when you ought to not bet

The woman scooped David up into her arms, holding him close as she began to jig around the coffee table, bouncing him to the beat on her hip. 

You keep samin’ when you ought to be changin’ 

Now what’s right is right, but you ain’t been right yet

By now, David was making noises in an attempt to join her singing, which caused Bell’s vocals to be disrupted by laughs, soft, endeared. She then paused in her singing to place the toddler on the sofa, making sure she treated him with care, still afraid that she might snap him in half with a strength she didn’t know she had. Of course, this did not happen, but her anxieties were high and the last thing she wanted was to accidentally hurt the adorable boy. 

The song was now in the last leg and she picked up the lyrics. 

These boots are made for walkin’

And that’s just what they’ll do

One of these days these boots are gonna walk all over you

David was bopping his head along now. For the last lines of the song, Bell stood with her hands on her hips, blowing a piece of hair from her face, before she dramatically acted out the words. 

Are you ready, boots? 

Start walkin’! 

As the song came to an end, she finished up her performance with one last lap around the coffee table, before she sunk into the seat next to David and feigned going limp. He pushed at her arm, at her head, giggling as he said, “you tired? No!” 

“I am,” she sighed, emphatically, “so tired. It’s all that dancing!” 

“Again, again!” He yelled excitedly, hopping off the sofa to go over to the radio, dialling up the volume a little more. By now, the radio host had mentioned how it was time to cycle through the hits of the year, and another song had been started; she started to rise out of her seat, amused by the boy's antics, consequently spurred on to continue her current train of entertainment for him.

 It was keeping him happy and that was enough for her. 

The song was Abracadabra but she hadn’t caught who it was by - still, that didn’t matter much, and she focused on the drums, the guitar. Just as she was about to take David’s little hands in hers with the intention of dancing with him again, she caught a shadow of a figure in the corner of her eyes, a figure that she had failed to notice there moments prior. 

Her body felt like it had been shocked and she jolted upright. In an instant, she had turned to where she had seen the movement, hands beginning to ball into fists, though they remained at her side despite her mind telling her to have them up guarding her. 

“Woah,” Woods had been leaning against the doorframe, unnoticed for pretty much the entire time she had been dancing, hands hidden in the pockets of his jeans, “only just noticed me, huh?” 

He had been standing there, watching as Bell came out of whatever constantly guarded state she was in, letting loose. His eyes had trailed across her features, noticed how there wasn’t that fogged look of worry, of being lost, and he wished that she could always look so genuinely happy. But, as soon as she had noticed him, the stony features had returned, the mist of apprehension had come over her eyes, and she was once again guarded. 

“Do not do that,” she seethed, as she forced her fists to relax. Then, she turned away from him, embarrassed, “how long have you been standing there?” 

“Long enough to know you can’t dance for sh- nothin’,” he pulled a face in the presence of his almost-error, eyes darting to the boy, who was now holding onto the leg of Bell. 

“Like you could do better,” she scoffed, then directed her question at David, “you think your Uncle Woods can dance better than me?” 

David looked at her, then at his Uncle Woods, then back at her with large unblinking eyes - he then grinned, “I don’t know.” 

Bell gave Woods a thin stare, eyes narrow, “maybe he should try.” 

“Uh, no.” 

“Yeah!” David howled, jumping up and down, “Uncle Woods should dance!” 

The look that Bell received from the other caused a mirthful, but mischievous smile to grow on her features, as she felt the young boy move from her side to grab at the jeans of Woods. He tugged and tugged, until eventually Woods peered down at him, “yeah, kid?” 

“Please,” David drawled, elongating the vowels. 

Bell joined in, much to Woods’ chagrin. 

For all of thirty seconds, Woods took his hands out of his pockets, hanging them in the air stiffly, as he then moved on the spot - just as quickly as he had started, he grumpily went back to his original stance, except he had his arms over his chest as he looked away to the side. David pouted, turning to Bell, as she stared at the other with her mouth agape, “what was that?!” 

Woods shrugged. 

“You’re my favourite,” David murmured into Bell’s leg, as he had begun to hide his face against it, not wanting to let Woods see the impish smile on his face. If there was one thing David knew how to do, it was how to get Uncle Woods to do as he wanted; Woods quickly straightened up, eyebrows raised as he asked, “sorry, kiddo, I didn’t hear ya.” 

David turned his head so that he could peer up at Woods, his eyes round and watery, and forced another pout. He made sure he was heard loud and clear, “Auntie Dodie is my favourite.”

Bell kept quiet, unsure of what to do; was he misbehaving? Or was he just playing? She thought the latter, but couldn’t be sure. 

“I see, that’s how it is, huh?” Woods used his thumb to itch his chin, feigning an image of being incredibly offended by the boy’s words, “she’s your favourite, now, and you’re just gonna forget about me? Uncle Woods?” 

“Yup!” 

Woods quickly hopped into a stance ready for a chase and a shrill screech devolved into a fit of giggles, as David began to run away, rushing around to one side of the coffee table. Woods set upon him, allowing the boy to run just that little bit ahead of him, whilst saying, “come here, come here and say it to my face!”

Eventually, Woods had caught up with David, scooping him up; he had him dangling upside down, held securely with the boy's legs against his side, “who’s your favourite?” 

“Dodie!” 

“Who?” Woods swung him gently, “come again?” 

David could only laugh and between the giggles he cried happily, “it’s you!” 

Woods turned the boy the right way up, then set him down safely on the floor, grinning victoriously, “knew it, I’m always the favourite, don’t you forget it, kid.” 

He then ruffled the kid’s hair, as he turned to face the woman, who had been watching the whole thing unfold with a fond look in her eyes. Once he had turned around and his eyes were on her, she steeled herself, forcing that look away and offering a small, tight smile. He faltered, somewhat, disappointed that she had seemingly become stiff and closed off now that he was in the room. Woods sighed, inwardly, unwilling to let his disdain show. 

“I, uh, I’m gonna head out for a smoke,” he murmured, “don’t steal him from me while I’m gone.” 

Bell nodded and soon David was back in her arms. Another song had been playing, now just passing the first chorus. Neither of them had been listening to the host and as Woods left the living room, moving to the back door in the kitchen, the song faded to a low buzz in the background. Occasionally the lyrics would drift through to him. 

And my life’s lookin up

I think I’m in love

He pulled the packet of cigarettes that had been hiding in the breast pocket of his flannel shirt, hitting the bottom of it to pop out a singular cigarette. He placed the end between his lips, then pulled it from the cardboard packet. It hung loosely, as he opened the door and then stepped outside. As part of his routine, he’d gone and put his boots on, but his laces were not tied - he wouldn’t be spending too long outside anyway. 

It controls me

Makes me do all the things I do for you

He lit the cigarette. 

You’re on my mind, babe

Thinkin’ about you now

Woods drowned out the song by closing the door behind him. 

Drawing in a deep, long drag of the cig, he let the smoke fill his lungs and held it for a second. On the exhale, he let his eyes close, thoughts heading back to the image of Bell acting goofy for the kid. Shaking his head, he found himself amused by her antics, yet yearning for that opportunity to see it for himself, without the need to hover and witness it from the outside.

Who was he kidding, though, that woman would never casually let herself be unguarded around anyone, no matter how much they could prove they would never be a threat to her. Betrayal had followed her like an old friend, to every corner of the world she had gone to, through every experience. He supposed it was hard to expect that anything else could happen - maybe, she was counting down the days until he and Mason did the same as everyone else.   

He wasn’t great with words and even worse with comfort, so there was probably nothing he could say or do that would sufficiently convince her that her current team were not like the rest. 

He was not like the rest. 

Then again, if he was in her position, he’d have wanted to watch the world burn; he’d have thrown his trust in anyone away, watch it circle the drain and descend.

God fucking damn it, Frank, he thought to himself, this ain’t like you gettin’ caught up on someone. So what if she doesn’t trust you? She’s a colleague. A soldier. 

He took another drag of the cigarette, as a chill breeze blew over the snowbanks, wrapping itself around his body. Flashes of the other night filtered into his head, how her body felt against his, how her touch had caused a rippling sensation of heat to wave over his body. His thoughts were entirely consumed by her, distracting and incessant. 

There was a slight burn at his fingertips and he found that he’d neglected to keep his eye on the burning cigarette, which had now come towards the end of its life. It singed the skin of his fingers and he quickly tossed it into the snow. His tone was seething, as he moved to take another cigarette, “fuck.” 

To his right, Maximus padded up to him, sitting at his feet and staring up. He whimpered a little before he nuzzled Woods’ hand, causing the man to sigh and relent; Woods crouched down, discarding the want for another smoke, and decided to fuss Maximus. 

“You got any advice for me, buddy?” He asked the dog, receiving nothing but silence, “nah, didn’t think so.” 

Maximus stared at him for a little bit longer, eyes squinting in enjoyment caused by the scratching of his ears by Woods, before he jutted his nose right into the man’s face. He bumped his nose against his features a couple of times, finally finishing by licking his cheeks adoringly. Maximus did not know what was being said, but he could sense that Woods needed a little comfort and Maximus was good at that. 

“Alright, alright,” Woods chided, gently pushing the dog away as he rose to his feet, having almost been knocked over by Maximus’ sheer strength, “I already had a shower this morning.” 

After a few more minutes of hanging around outside, Woods ventured back into the warmth of the home, kicking his boots off so that he didn’t trudge melting snow through to the living room. Once he was back there, he noted how the radio was now quieter and there was a colouring book splayed out on the coffee table. Crayons were also askew its surface, some broken and others barely even usable with how small they were, but David was managing to colour the pages well enough. He was so occupied with his work, his tongue sticking out in concentration, that he hadn’t noticed his elder walk back in. 

Bell was sitting in the armchair, one leg over the other, with the newspaper that he’d read earlier. It was resting on her knee, as she leant forward to fill in the blank spaces within the puzzles.

As she came to a stop mid-writing, the end of the pen came to rest against her lower lip, tapping the same spot gently as the thoughts moved in her head. Bell didn’t necessarily like crosswords, but she had already finished the sudoku puzzle. 

Woods enjoyed watching her work, taking in her appearance. Her brows were furrowed gently, the smallest of creases working its way into the centre of her forehead. Her eyes were narrowed on the page, irises unmoving as she stared at the words intently, as though willing them to reveal information to her. Woods noticed how her lips were slightly pursed, as the pen rested against them. A strand of hair had come out of place from her hair tie, framing the left of her features. 

Sitting on the sofa adjacent, he decided not to disturb the peace by saying anything, but his presence was acknowledged and sought after when Bell questioned, “Clue, they come in last. Three letters. Any ideas?” 

He tilted his head, as he adjusted his position, leaning further back into the sofa, “what have you thought so far?” 

“Words that are too long to fit,” she admitted, “this is quite a hard one.” 

There was a little bit of silence, then she hummed something unintelligible to herself; she quickly tutted at the thought and threw it aside with a disconcerted shake of her head. Then, she was looking at Woods, as though scrutinising him, but he soon realised that she was giving her sight a break from staring at the page. There was a hint of looking through him, rather than at him, as a fog drifted over her gaze and he noticed the familiar look of being lost again. Part of him wanted to click his fingers, clap her back into reality, but he had learnt the hard way that doing that to someone like her, like Mason, was not a good idea. 

So, he waited patiently for her clarity to return, and after that brief moment of being lost had passed, her eyes blinked and focused on him. It was like she hadn’t just checked out of the room, as she quickly said, “so? Got anything?” 

“No, I don’t,” he replied. Bell sighed, rubbing a hand down her features as the sounds of angry scribbling filled the room; they looked at David, who was currently colouring in enlarged images of the alphabet. He had gotten as far as the letter ‘W’ and was getting annoyed with the crayon - it was pretty small to begin with, but had snapped in half making it even smaller. This is what had caused him to scribble furiously. 

The two adults shared a look with each other, one that was entertained by the little boy’s behaviour, and Woods found himself enamoured with the slight upturn of her lips as they curled into a furtive smile. There was that light again, that relaxed air about her, and he could see the guard slip a little. He willed it further, but it didn’t, though he found himself unable to be entirely disappointed. 

After a moment, he saw her eyes drop back down to the pages, focusing on the bubbled artwork of the alphabet. The smile then dropped a little and that intense, thoughtful stare returned to her features. If a lightbulb could have gone off above her head for all to see, it would have been glowing bright, almost blinding; Woods then witnessed, as he had done many times before in their line of work, how the cogs sunk into place and whirred into life inside her mind. 

The pen was then to paper, as she scribbled down the three letter answer. 

Curiously, Woods murmured, “you figure it out?” 

“X, Y and Z.” 

“What?” 

“They come in last. The last three letters of the English alphabet.” She offered a shy smile, then kept her gaze down on the paper. Part of her felt a little childish, showcasing her excitement for having figured out something as simple as a crossword puzzle. She needed to reign herself in, to harden herself and keep up her walls. 

“Huh, that’s…” Woods nodded slowly, then shifted in his seat. It was actually a very clever little thing and would have had him running around in circles for days, yet she’d clicked on as quickly as ever. He shouldn’t have expected any less, as it had only taken her a few days to crack the floppy disk decryption - she was a meticulous mind. 

“Sneaky,” she finished his sentence for him, “it’s sneaky. But he helped.” Bell gestured with the pen towards David and his colouring book. Woods leant forward, peering at the now haphazardly coloured letters. As he peered over the boy's shoulder, his hand absentmindedly ruffled his hair. David swatted at his hand, trying his best to keep his eyes and attention solely on the task of furiously colouring. 

“Slow down, kiddo, you’ll tear the pages,” Woods chided, gently. 

Then, there was the sound of the front door opening and a sweet, huffing voice called out, “we’re baaack~” 

David stopped his scribbling, then tried his best to get up as quickly as possible to greet his parents. Woods followed him, just to make sure that he didn’t take a tumble in his haste, and Bell was left alone in the room. She watched after them, as a swelling feeling in her chest grew warm. She supposed, if she allowed herself to think about it for any length of time, that this kind of life was really nice. Bell could only wish for it, though, and reconciled with the fact that this snippet was good enough for her.

[bullet-prooflove]

The Holiday Bingo Card is Complete!!!!

Here is what we have coming up!

26th Nov: Saint Michael - Frank Castle x Reader - Frank returns something important to you - BINGO SQUARE: GIFT EXCHANGE

1st Dec: Montana - Cowboy!Terry Bruno x Reader - Terry doesn't expect to receieve a holiday card from you. BINGO SQUARE: HOLIDAY CARDS

2nd Dec: Better - Bobby Goren x Reader - You're trapped in a car with a broken heater in the middle of winter. BINGO SQUARE: SHARING A SCARF

3rd Dec: Look After You - Johnny 'Coco' Cruz x Reader - Coco takes care of you when your struck down with a cold. BINGO SQUARE: COLD/FLU SEASON

8th Dec: Black Satin (NSFW) - Bishop Losa x Reader - Bishop finds a surprise when he's helping you with the holiday gifts. BINGO SQUARE: HOLIDAY SHOPPING

10th Dec: Home Alone (NSFW) - Priest!Joe x Reader - Joe doesn't expect a guest this Christmas. BINGO SQUARE: SPENDING CHRISTMAS ALONE

11th Dec: Candy Cane - Chibs x Reader - You turn out to be a distraction whilst gift wrapping. BINGO SQUARE: FLANNEL PJS

13th Dec: Heaven in Hiding - Mike Duarte x Reader - You find Mike hiding out during the holiday party. BINGO SQUARE: WORK HOLIDAY PARTY

15th Dec: End of the Line - Hank Loza x Reader - You and Hank make a realisation about your relationship. BINGO SQUARE: HOME FOR CHRISTMAS

16th Dec: Gingerbread - Bishop Losa x Reader - Bishop comforts you when you discover your limitations. BINGO SQUARE: BAKING

19th Dec: Snow - Bishop Losa x Reader - Bishop asks you a question that's been on his mind recently. BINGO SQUARE: PLAYING IN THE SNOW

20th Dec: The Fight Before Christmas - Sam Abrams x Reader - Sam and get into a fight after he discovers you've been keeping a secret from him. BINGO SQUARE: THE FIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS

23rd Dec: Traditions - Angel Reyes x Reader - Angel goes overboard on Valeria's first Christmas. BINGO SQUARE: DECORATIONS

24th Dec: Special Delivery - Tig Trager x Reader - Tig's babymoon doesn't go as planned. BINGO SQUARE: WINTER CABIN

26th Dec: Hot Chocolate - Alden Parker x Reader - Alden and you discuss what happened a few nights ago. BINGO SQUARE: FIRST SNOW

27th Dec: This is the Year - Juan 'Juice' Ortiz x Reader - Juice takes his new years resolution very seriously. BINGO SQUARE: RESOLUTION

28th Dec: LakeTahoe!Series Part One: Black Bear Lodge - Manny x Reader - You meet Manny in a lodge in Lake Tahoe. - Companion piece to End of the Line. BINGO SQUARE: SLEDDING

31st Dec: Fireworks - Taza Romero x OC: Ben Harrison - Taza discovers why Ben hates New Year's. BINGO SQUARE: NEW YEARS

2nd Jan: BlackIce!Series Part One: Black Ice - Frank Castle x Reader - Frank returns home after hearing about your accident. BINGO SQUARE: ICE

7th Jan: Mount Shasta (NSFW) - Taza Romero x OC: Ben Harrison - Ben surprises Taza with a trip away. BINGO SQUARE: BLIZZARD/SNOWED IN

[lsdoiphin]

Sketch: @lsdoiphin​ Lines + Color: @broncoburro​ OCs:: Sam, Sasha, Isaac, Frank

Verdamt doesn’t have Christmas (nor does any other pocket of society in Telluria) but they do have an uncanny parallel holiday known as “Impact Day” or more secular-ly, “the apsis.” In the middle of what passes as 'winter' in Verdamt, denizens gather to (allegedly) honor the first of the moon-meteors that struck Telluria when the world ended hundreds of years ago, and if you’re religious, the death of Saint Nikita (who is a bit like their version of Jesus, without the forgiveness angle).

So, how do you honor the passing of the old world and the untimely death of humanity’s last redeemer? Well, you dig the traditional holiday hole and huddle with your friends and neighbors with traditional canned rations! If you’re an orthodox aphelionist, you’ll probably spend an evening or two in the holiday hole reflecting and repenting in bitter silence on the unsalvageable nature of humanity and the world, but everyone else is going to treat it as an excuse to take work off and drink. Peace and love on Telluria!!

Another newer Impact Day tradition is the presence of the tree. See, because of how Telluria orbits the sun and the lack of contrast between the planet’s night and day, trees grow crooked towards the sun rather than straight up. Depending on the species and where it grows, they will grow diagonally or horizontally along the ground! HOWEVER! It’s a well-known history fact that in Saint Nikita’s time, trees grew UP, so you honor her by awkwardly rigging your tree to stand straight up instead of a good and natural slanted tree. As for the lights? Well, it gets dark in your holiday hole if you don’t, so they’re kind of a necessity.

Sam generally holds contempt for traditions, especially ones rooted in stodgy old religions, but she has sentimental fondness for Impact Day and the holiday hole tradition regardless. “You ain’t gotta give a shit about Saint Nik to dig a good hole,” she’d say.

Isaac, on the other hand, grew up in Rietveld and each bizarre Verdamtian holiday leaves him more confused than the last.

[lo-diehards]

2024 TV Season Analysis – Organized Crime Tops the Franchise, Law & Order Better, SVU Needs an Overhaul

The 2023-24 TV season has been a truncated TV season of 13 episodes, due the ongoing WGA/SAG-AFTRA strikes that happened last year. A lot of scripted TV was back burned until the strikes ended. TV writers struck their deal first and were back to work promptly, long before actors/actresses, this should have given time to plan out their already short season. Production crunched for 13 episodes to be shot between late November until this coming week, where SVU and mother ship reboot will be wrapping up shooting their finale episodes.

But where does this season grade in its entirety? I’m going to summarize – as much as I can - my views on where the franchise stands for this season from best to worst. Click below to read.

Organized Crime – The best in the franchise creatively, hands down!

New show runner/executive producer John Shiban (The X-Files) and his writing staff understood their assignment and have definitely delivered. Organized Crime is the most entertaining series in the franchise this season, week-over-week. The storylines are so fleshed out and they don’t drag on as they had since the series started. Shiban has shifted focus to the OC main characters and their backstories as well as expanding on the OC unit in its entirety. We’ve even seen 2 of SVU’s former stars show up (Tamara Tunie, Chief M.E. Melinda Warner / Dann Florek, Donald Cragen) as well as an appearance by Peter Scanavino (ADA Dominick Carisi). We have even been introduced to more of Stabler’s family, his brothers – portrayed by guest stars Dean Norris and Michael Trotter – and while they’ve come in and shook things up for Stabler, one thing I can point out, it’s the first season since OC premiered where I haven’t felt that Elliot Stabler is on a quest for vengeance or retribution of some kind.

The cast has been firing on all cylinders this season, especially with the episode that just aired last week (“Crossroads”), where one of OC’s new team members went missing and was found to be killed, Stabler having the bury his body as he is undercover with the group that found Detective-in-Training Samir Bashir (guest star Abubakr Ali). This story is still playing out so as of now we don’t fully know who killed him but I’m sure we’re about to find out. Stabler’s younger brother, Joe Jr. may have some involvement as the investigation is about to come full circle. Meanwhile, the scene in question in this episode has Christopher Meloni and Danielle Mone Truitt deliver their most powerful scene together yet in the series and they have delivered quite a few, this one stands out though.

Excellent only begins to describe it, and Organized Crime this season. Organized Crime has yet to be renewed for the 2024-25 TV season.

Law & Order (reboot) – It’s improved, but we still have a ways to go.

There is a lot to be said of the mother ship series, both the original and this reboot. But this reboot has seen a lot in its short time on air, in this short season alone the cast has changed twice already. Jeffrey Donovan (Detective Frank Cosgrove) and the series parted ways weeks before production was set to start and veteran Sam Waterston (District Attorney Jack McCoy) chose to depart before mid-season. Sam Waterston is/will greatly be missed and he leaves behind a full legacy on the show, which he joined in 1994! Meanwhile newcomers Reid Scott (Detective Vincent Riley) and Tony Goldwyn (District Attorney Nicholas Baxter) have been welcomed by fans with open arms. The cast of the reboot no matter which season is very solid and they are all very talented, but their talents often seem crippled.

The reboot seems to have an issue fleshing out the characters. Det. Jalen Shaw (Mehcad Brooks) and ADA Sam Maroun (Odelya Halevi) – and add DA Nick Baxter (Goldwyn) to me, week-in and week-out are the unsung heroes as with them we can see depth, we can understand why they make the decisions they make or feel the way they do on certain topics. I’m still on the fence about Riley’s development but he’s definitely has a more solid partnership with Shaw than Cosgrove did, and he certainly is a better character. I think they’ve got a great detective duo here – reminiscent of that of Ed Green (Jesse L. Martin) and Cyrus Lupo (Jeremy Sisto) in season 18. From about the third episode this season on up, there has been an improvement in the writing, I must say in comparison from where the season started. Most of the episodes this season seem to have one singular writer who stands out, Pamela Wechsler, who also serves as executive producer. Girl power!

What can help the reboot:

The writers need to get away from talking points and political affiliation when it comes to the characters and even the weekly storylines - looking at you show runner Rick Eid - it makes the characters come off as caricatures and stereotypes. And maybe not directly rip the episodes from the headlines near verbatim. It takes away from it if we already know how it plays out – where is “the Law & Order twist?” They need to deep dive into Vincent Reilly, Nolan Price (Hugh Dancy) and Kate Dixon (Camryn Manheim); we have talented actors on here, give them something that makes us stand up and clap and relate to these characters and stop making them one-dimensional, especially ADA Price. I must say I’ve been enjoying the legal side a bit more with the addition of Goldwyn’s Baxter, his back-and-forth every week with Price has a feel of the original series run, where we see multiple points of views on cases and it doesn’t feel/sound like rhetoric. And speaking of that run, it wouldn’t hurt for them to find ways to invest those old characters in the reboot. Just because Sam has departed doesn’t mean we still don’t want to see old faces or even faces from the other L&O series show up. Elisabeth Rohm (ADA Serena Southerlyn) and Milena Govich (Det. Nina Cassady) have directed episodes! Raul Esparza and Hugh Dancy both starred in Hannibal, I could see former-ADA now Defense Attorney Rafael Barba sitting at the defense table and likely wiping the floor with Price! Tony Goldwyn even wants Mariska Hargitay to direct an episode. Let’s make the mother ship enjoyable to watch again!

It was renewed for a 24th season (4th for the reboot). The mother ship has a second chance at greatness and to continue its legacy on television, not a lot of shows get that. It would be wise that those in charge on mother ship remember that.

SVU – The 25th milestone season ranks as one of the worst.

I originally had a two-page long document on this season of SVU alone and I’ve had to shorten it down and it’s still not that short. But if I had to describe the 25th record-breaking season of SVU in 1 word, that word would be “bad.” There are calls on social media for show runner/executive producer David Graziano to be fired from the series. I’m not one to openly call for people to lose their jobs, but clearly there is something wrong and the downward spiral of the ratings mixed with bad press for SVU episodes this season is showing that. Nothing about season 25 jumps out as milestone season and there are only a handful of episodes as of now, that I would consider episodes worth going back to watch again: “Tunnel Blind”, “Duty to Report”, “Probability of Doom”, and “Children of Wolves” which was directed by Mariska Hargitay.

It’s the writing and direction of this season, period. There is no other reason or excuse that flies. There is clearly no investment from the management level behind the scenes at SVU in this milestone season being the best it could have been. The Maddie storyline overtook the season and its resolution didn’t exactly hit the mark either. Where is the retrospective? Why haven’t we gone over past cases? Seen former victims/survivors (other than 2 minutes worth of Maria from “911”)? Why did Olivia stop seeing Dr. Lindstrom (Bill Irwin)? Where is the ‘healing?’ The guest stars? We haven’t seen any former stars, other than Kelli Giddish (Detective Amanda Rollins), and that proves to me that it was a mistake to fire her in the first place. “Where is the energy? Where is the spatter? This is life-less dreck. A cheap knock-off…” (diehard SVU fans; if you know, you know). But seriously, nothing about this season overall screams “25 years!”

With the season opener, I was sure David Graziano and the writers turned the page on the mess that was most of the entire 24th season of SVU. Turns out I was wrong to think it. It seems to be doubled down. It’s proof that despite his behavior, he’s just not a good fit for SVU. He doesn’t seem to understand how to write for this show and be the voice of who women/people look up to and the voice that victims and survivors need. I honestly think he would serve better on a Criminal Intent reboot or something since he seems to like that aspect of the crimes more so than investigatory and the legal side – Peter Scanavino’s screen time has greatly decreased and well as legal scenes.

What can help SVU:

A lot of damage is done, but it’s not irreversible. The best call is to replace the person at the top if they aren’t going to change themselves, (sorry but not sorry David). The popular eras of SVU are seasons 3-7 and again 13-17 and for good reason; Neal Baer and Warren Leight remain the two people who have seen SVU at their peaks. Going into a record breaking season 26, someone who can understand the intricacies of SVU needs to take the helm and get this show turned around. Focus needs to be on steadying the storylines and fleshing them out in a meaningful way to where they connect and not have crucial bits just disappear into thin air. We need to get SVU’s focus back on uplifting the voices of victims and survivors and their journeys, as well as to delve deep again into the world of the NYPD SVU squad. It’s not just about “rape case of the week” the actual SVU deals with kidnappings, crimes against the children, the disabled/elderly, working in conjunction with the Hate Crimes unit/federal govt., trafficking and more, let’s get the variety back in the crimes – and let’s stop showing the crime taking place on screen and in graphic manner. The crime scene analysis, forensics, court scenes and legalese needs to be put back into this series, I’ve honestly felt it decrease even before S24 as far back as some S22.

We need to see Carisi navigate through these cases and the back-and-forth with the defense as well as in his own bureau. We’ve yet to see Carisi interact with the district attorney (Jack McCoy, Sam Waterston – now Nick Baxter, Tony Goldwyn) much like his preceding ADAs. Benson’s character needs to go back to therapy and deal with her issues head on (Lindstrom, Bill Irwin), she had done that up until EDMR in season 24 became her new way and it’s not working for her, since the writers seem to use it now as a crutch to say “she’s healing” but then turn around and have her do things to suggest otherwise. Benson also needs to be written as a leader and delegator more so than taking every case away from her “squad” and solving them personally. Actually from a story standpoint it would be great to see Benson face repercussions for continually doing this, in the real world that would have consequences as how can she personally investigate cases and run the unit?

And with the unit, their stories need to be dissected more. Velasco (Octavio Pisano) in particular, he had an edge in season 23 as the new guy that might be a snitch for the Chief of Detectives (McGrath, Terry Serpico) but in season 24 they pushed this character into a corner with liking Detective Grace Muncy (Molly Burnett, who departed last season) and the Chilly storyline last season and can’t seem to get him out of that corner. Velasco comes off as “just there” much in the way Fin (ICE T) is starting to. And where is Phoebe (Jennifer Esposito)? Detective Bruno and Captain (to-Detective or Chief?) Curry (Kevin Kane and Aime Donna Kelly) are pretty much holding down the squad and are actually the more I look to, to solve the cases and they are the only ones peaking my interest.

SVU is heading to record-breaking season 26, if they want to reach their goal of stopping at 30. Dick Wolf, NBC and those behind the scenes need to get serious about it if that is what they really want. Otherwise, you’re about to have long-time viewers and new viewers alike turning away. Despite what people believe about ever-lasting loyalty, it does have an end date.

What do you think? Do you agree or disagree? Feel free to respond!

[i-put-the-bi-in-nonbinary]

I drew my WH OCs in @chez-cinnamon 's real world AU. I also made a disgruntled ex Playfellow employee to take care of them, her name is Mabel.

Wendy Darling

She's very worried about their predicament and her brother's well-being. Mabel gave her a necklace to figit with when stressed so she doesn't rip her hair out. She's not losing sleep, stress is just making her look tired.

Sarah Spider

As soon as she saw the spider web skirt she was in love with the goth aesthetic. She modified her shirt a bit to fit her extra arms, same with Marshall's shirt for his wings and extra arms.

Marshall Moth and Amorette Lovely

They're worried about not being useful because they don't have any of their medical equipment. Mabel has found ways to keep them occupied though.

Hailey Pillar and Freya Frankly

Hailey is paranoid because she has no clue where they are. Freya helps keep her calm though. To keep themselves from worrying about Frank and Howdy they read botany and gardening books from Mabel's home and the local library.

Mabel

She's nice but looks a bit intimidating because of her naturally slightly angry face. She's got a cigarette addiction that's slowly getting better due to Freya hiding her lighter so the sound doesn't frighten Hailey as well as Marshall and Amorette hiding her cigarette boxes somewhere she can't find for the life of her. She doesn't care what others think, she only dresses for her comfort even if it means her puppet children guests call her outfit choices "grandma clothes". She's also epileptic so she just has to get double of her medication for Wendy. On top of getting ink for them, her money situation isn't the best but she has given up on caring at this point.

Bonus: siblings reunite for the fist time since Home sent them here.

On a side note. Why was Wally's vest so difficult to draw-

[jerzwriter]

All in the Past

AU Mini-Series Part 1 of 3

This started as a request from @angelasscribbles for ONE scene. Three parts later... I decided to make this a follow-up and alternate ending to one of my favorite short, angsty AUs, Unblemished, because we needed more angst. All three parts will be posted today.

Series Summary: Tobias & Casey were friends turned lovers whose different dreams led them to become friends once again. Two years after their painful breakup, Casey has moved on. Tobias is in town to attend his friend and one-time love's wedding, with his new girlfriend on his arm. It's just the wedding of an old friend, or, is it?

Part 1 Summary: Tobias and Meghan leave Boston to attend Casey's wedding in Raleigh, North Carolina. It's a little getaway, a happy trip to see his two friends get hitched. But prewedding events lead to unexpected and uninvited emotions coming to the surface. Tobias gets a cold shoulder from Sienna, and their frank conversation leaves more questions than answers.

Book: Open Heart (Post Series)

Characters/Pairings: Casey MacTavish (F!MC) x M!OC, Tobias Carrick x F!OC, Sienna Trinh

Rating: Teen

Words: 2,700

Series Masterlist

Tobias x Casey Masterlist | OH Masterlist | Full Masterlist

Ladies and gentlemen, we have touched down at Raleigh-Durham International Airport, where it is 80 degrees, and conditions are bright and sunny. We thank you for flying Transit Airlines and wish you the best with whatever brings you to the area. 

"Sir?" A woman gently nudged Tobias's arm when he didn't reply. "Sir... I'm sorry, but I need to get...."

"Oh, of course," Tobias apologized, jumping from his seat to allow the woman through.

He was usually the first to get off a flight, but today, he found himself lost in his thoughts, and he still hadn't found his way back as he reached into the overhead compartment to grab his bag. All it took was an arm looping around his waist to snap him back into the present. The petite, red-haired beauty's smile lit up the cabin as she held him tight; she was as happy as he was pensive.

"I missed you," she beamed. "You were such a gentleman agreeing to give that mom your seat so she could sit with her child, but I have a warning for you."

"Oh yeah," he grinned. "What’s that?”

“If we’re ever on a flight longer than two hours, you’re prohibited from doing that. I need you near me... deal?”

“I’ll tell you what. If we’re ever on a flight longer than two hours, I’ll spring for first class, so it’s not an issue.”

“Hmmm, I could handle that,” Meghan smiled.

“Good,” he smiled, taking her hand. “Now, let’s get off this plane.”

~~~~~

He couldn’t describe his mood if he tried. Melancholy was too sad;  wistful may be more fitting, though neither truly worked. He was happy, he reminded himself. More importantly, Casey was happy, too. It had been over two years since that cold Boston night when they tearfully said goodbye. Fast friends from the start, they eventually turned into much more. When different goals ended their dreams of “forever,” they were heartbroken and said goodbye, foolishly believing it was where their story ended. People don’t always see the invisible string that binds souls that are meant to be connected, and when Casey’s phone rang three months later, not answering was never a consideration. They started as friends, and perhaps that’s where they were meant to be. That’s what they were now. Friends. Good friends.

“Welcome to the Umstead Hotel,” an overexuberant young woman smiled. “What name is your reservation under?”

“Uh... Carrick. Dr. Tobias Carrick.”

“I have you right here! You’re in town for the MacTavish-Duncan wedding?”

“That’s right,” he nodded.

“Wonderful! The couple is hosting a cocktail reception for their out-of-town guests in the lounge at six.”

“That’s so sweet!” Meghan gushed, taking hold of Tobias’s arm. “We’re going, right?”   

“Of course,” he smiled with some apprehension. “As long as I get in a nap... that early flight wiped me out more than I thought it would.”

“Fine, old man,” Meghan laughed as they entered the elevator, her head firmly on his shoulder.

He was just tired. He told himself. Besides, it was normal to feel emotional when a good friend was married. And Casey was among his best. It all made sense. Perfect sense.  

~~~~~

The evening found him at the bar alone, anxiously twirling his old-fashioned in his hand. They had only been in their room fifteen minutes when Meghan realized she left her shoes in Boston. She was in an Uber on her way to the North Hills Mall in minutes, leaving Tobias to his nap. She promised she’d be back by six, but Tobias knew her well enough to know if shoe shopping was involved... he’d be lucky if she returned by ten.  

He noticed a small group of wedding guests mingling toward the back of the lounge but didn’t recognize any faces. The normally social doctor wasn’t in the mood for small talk, so he stayed put. He didn’t want to come at all, but hurting Casey’s feelings wasn’t something he was willing to do. Now, it looked like she was a no-show for her own party, so he made a decision. He had already waited the requisite twenty minutes; he was finishing this drink and then making a beeline back to his room. But as he raised the glass to his lips, he heard her voice. It didn’t matter how much time had passed, he’d know it anywhere.

“Hello, stranger!”

They were just friends now, nothing more. So why did he feel his heart flutter? His signature smirk was firmly in place before turning to greet her. A natural defense mechanism to keep the butterflies at bay. But when his eyes fell upon her, all pretense disappeared. 

How did she only become more beautiful? Etheral is how he’d describe her. Blonde hair pulled into a whispy updo, with delicate off-white flowers pinned to hold it in place. Her matching silk dress gracefully skimmed over every curve that he knew so well, and her smile. That smile had melted his heart and pulled him out of more bad days than he dared to count. And after all the years he’d known her, after all they had been through, it still rendered him speechless. Noticing his silence was lasting too long, he jumped from his bar stool to embrace her. A brilliant grin hid the war of emotions battling inside him.

“Stranger indeed! I haven’t heard from you in a while, kid. I was beginning to think you rescinded my invitation.”

“As if!” Casey laughed. “It hasn’t been that long. You try managing a busy career, a publishing deadline, and planning a wedding for two hundred of your nearest and dearest. See how much time you’d have to chat.”  

“Casey... do you ever see me in that position?” He asked wryly.

He swore he saw her smile falter, and a bit of her effervescence was gone. But why would it be? She was happy. It must have been one old-fashioned too many.   

“No,” she spoke softly. “I guess I don’t.”

“You look stunning,” he smiled. “How do you plan to outdo this on your big day?”

“Stop,” she said with a playful slap on his arm. “I’m immune to your flattery by now, don’t you know?”

They both laughed nervously as his eyes roamed the room. Still, no sight of Meghan, and someone else was missing, too.

“Where’s Craig? I haven’t heard from him either. I was going to see if we could shoot some hoops before the wedding.”

“He got called into an emergency surgery,” she shrugged. “The glamourous life of doctors. And where is Mandy? You said you were bringing a plus one. I assumed she’d be joining you.”

“Mandy? It’s Meghan,” he chuckled. “Mandy and I broke up some time ago.”  

“Oh, sorry. It’s hard to keep up with you. So, where is your latest and greatest?”

“She had to run to the mall for a few things. But she’ll be back soon.”

“Good,” Casey smiled politely. “I can’t wait to meet her. How long have you two...” She raised her hands, visibly checking herself. Her cheeks red with embarrassment. “I’m sorry, that’s none of my business...”

“It’s OK,” Tobias laughed, reassuringly touching her elbow, then dropping it when the gesture took both by surprise. “It’s not a state secret. Only a few months... don’t worry... we’re not headed down the alter anytime soon.”

Casey let out a wry laugh, and her words came out more curtly than intended. “I didn’t expect you would be.”

“Yeah,” Tobias muttered, gulping down the remains of his drink. “Walking down aisles isn’t exactly my thing. Is it?”

“Well, it was your excuse for ending things with me,” she replied with her arms crossed. “But you never know. Sometimes people change.”

Casey felt her stomach drop. What if he had changed? Accepting that Tobias was generally opposed to marriage was one thing, but if he ever took that step, she’d have to admit that marriage wasn’t the issue... she was, and that was too painful to imagine. She began to perspire, and was filled with worry. This wasn’t the reaction she should be having when her wedding was just over a day away. Her eyes darted around the room, desperate for a reason to escape.

“Well, I should mingle with the other guest,” she settled on. “Without Craig here, it’s double duty for me. But you and Meghan will be at brunch tomorrow morning, right?”

He hadn’t been aware there was a brunch. And since laying eyes on Casey, attending more wedding events was the last thing he wanted to do, but he detected the hint of pleading in her voice.

“Do you want me there?” he asked softly.

Casey nodded effusively. “I do.”

“Then I’ll be there,” he assured. “We both will.”

~~~~~

Brunch was... awkward. Tobias was sure Casey thought seating them together was a good idea, but she probably didn’t know how long Sienna Trinh could hold a grudge. And with Sienna’s plus one coming down with the flu, Tobias, Meghan, and Sienna made for an awkward trio.

Casey viewed their breakup as mutual, but Siennna saw things differently. Tobias was a stupid man who let his commitment issues ruin a wonderful thing, leaving her friend heartbroken. He hoped more than two years passing and Casey marrying someone else would have changed Sienna’s opinion of him, but all indications said otherwise. Sienna picked at her stack of blueberry pancakes as they all struggled to make small talk. Perhaps they could talk shop?

“So, Meghan, you’re at Edenbrook, too? What department do you work in?”

“I’m a paralegal. I work with the CEO.”

“Oh,” Sienna smiled politely, that didn’t work. After more uncomfortable silence, Meghan made the next attempt.

“I’m really looking forward to the wedding. The venue they selected is just beautiful! I’ve seen it on some wedding shows but never thought I’d get to attend a wedding there.”

Sienna held back a laugh. “I can understand that. I mean... because we live in Boston, and you know... you’re with Tobias.”

Losing patience, Tobias tossed his linen napkin on the table. “And what’s that supposed to mean, Si?”

“Just that you avoid weddings like the plague. I was shocked to hear you were coming.”

“It’s Casey’s wedding,” he smiled tersely. “Do you think I’d miss it?”

“I guess the answer’s no,” Sienna smiled smugly.

“You know, I’m going to run to the ladies' room,” Meghan announced. 

Sienna wiped her lip, “I’ll join you.”

“No,” Meghan insisted. “I need a moment away from this cold war, and if you both care about Casey as much as you profess to, maybe you should work out whatever... this... is before her wedding day. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

Tobias and Sienna sat slack-jawed momentarily, then a slight smile formed on his lips. 

“I guess I deserved that,” Sienna stated. “Meghan seems lovely, and no matter my feelings toward you, I shouldn’t have made her uncomfortable. I owe her an apology.”

“Maybe what we owe her is doing what she asked us to do,” he replied. “Sienna... what exactly is your problem with me? I know people can be bitter about their best friend’s exes, but Casey and I are good friends. If we put the past in the past, why can’t you?”

Sienna shut her eyes, warring over how much she should or should not say.

“It’s different,” she started cautiously. “I got to see the extent of the damage after the two of you fell apart. Whose apartment do you think she ended up at that last night in Boston? Who do you think she sat on the phone listening to her cry all night after she moved? I know you were hurting after things ended, but I experienced her pain. You were spared that.”

“Sienna, breakups are painful. You know that! And no, I didn’t see her immediate aftermath because we felt not contacting each other for a while would be for the best. But I was living through my own personal hell. It was hard on both of us.”

“Then why’d you do it? Tobias? All she wanted was a future with you... You’re the one who said it wasn’t possible!”

“We wanted different futures. Hers included a wedding... just like this one... a house in the suburbs, two kids, and a dog. I never wanted that and didn’t want to promise her something I couldn’t guarantee. Don’t you think I had wished I could? I could put you on the phone with my best friend. Kerry would tell you how wrong it was for Casey to want that life more than she wanted me... but you’re both wrong. We made a choice together, and it was painful as fuck. But, Si, it wasn’t my fault.”

“I guess,” Sienna sighed. “It’s just hard to see you both throw something so special, so rare away. It’s two years later and still hard to see.”

“I understand, but... Casey was dating Craig six months later, and she’s marrying him tomorrow. She and I are friends, hell, Craig and I are friends... so why are we even discussing this?”

“Because I’m her best friend... and I know how someone should be acting before they get married... and I still don’t see that in Casey.”

“What... what are you talking about....”

“She’s happy, sure... to a degree... but I’ve seen her when she was truly happy, and this seems like a facsimile.”

“Sienna,” he stalled, “She’s busy planning this weekend and under a lot of stress, but I’ve been around them. She loves Craig.”

“I know she does,” Sienna replied. “But she was in love with you.”

Tobias sat in stunned silence when he noticed Craig mingling with guests across the way. Looking for any excuse to evade the topic, he spat, “There’s Craig, uh... I’ve been looking for him... wanted to see him before the wedding, but he seems a little evasive...”

“Of course he has. Don’t you realize? Tobias, you’re the one who got away. You’re her best friend... other than me... that is. Do you think he needs a reminder before he says his I dos?”  

“I... I thought coming here was the right thing to do... I just wanted to... to be here for them... and to see...”

“To see what?”

“To see she really moved on. To really... let her go.”

“Right,” Sienna smiled. “But you’re over her. I’m glad we talked, T. I think my bitterness toward you is just my overprotectiveness of Casey. I love her. But I can be a bit of a momma bear.”

“No shit!” he said with a half-smile as Sienna narrowed her eyes at him.

“I’m trying to make amends. Shut up before I change my mind. Truce?”

“Of course. How could I be mad at you for being protective of Casey.”

“I know,” Sienna smiled, pushing away from the table. “Do me a favor. Just lay low until the wedding. Be there to support her, then go live your life and let Casey move on with hers. We have to trust that she made this decision knowing what’s right for her, and... we should both respect that.”

“I never intended to do anything but.”

“Good.” Sienna looked up and saw Meghan approaching the table. “I owe you an apology and want to thank you. This talk was overdue, and I promise. We’ll be grown-ups from now on.”

“Hey, I was being a grown-up,” Tobias protested.

“Tobias, is this the hill you want to die on?” Sienna snapped back.

“Continue...” he grinned.  

Sienna extended her hand. “It was very nice meeting you.”

“It’s lovely meeting you, too,” Meghan agreed. “Maybe we can get coffee back in Boston?”

“Sure, I’d like that. Tobias, I like her... be good to her.”

Tobias slipped his hand into Meghans and smiled. “That’s my intention. Thanks, Sienna.”

After Sienna walked away, Tobias turned to Meghan and thanked her for forcing them to talk. “You’re pretty special, you know. that?”

“I do,” she smiled sweetly. “But let's go back to our room because now it’s our turn to talk.”

"About?"

"About why we're at this wedding..."

"Meg," Tobias sighed. "We're here to see my friend... my friends... get married. Nothing more."

"Good, then it won't be an issue to have a quick talk about it...right?"

He let out a soft sigh. It was the last thing he wanted, but he knew better than to think Meghan would let it go.

"Right," he stood up, extending his hand to her. "Lead the way."

@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics @choicesjuly2023challenge - Fairytale

[foxymoxynoona]

To Kill A King (Chapter 12)

Banner and linebreaks by the talented @awrkives

Summary: What’s more charming than Prince Seokjin? Nothing, obviously. Except maybe the rotating palace guests who each smile and bow and charm in an attempt to hide their true motives. Fortunately Seokjin has a close circle of friends (well, servants) who watch his back and endure his humor and help him navigate the tumultuous seas of heartbreak, love, and an arranged marriage, not necessarily in that order. If only they had helped him keep a closer eye on his bride-to-be’s handmaiden, who arrives with her own agenda… or maybe it would have been better if he had noticed her less? One thing is certain as this royal drama of the heart plays out: there are many people competing to kill a king.

Main Pairing: Prince Seokjin x Female OC Genre: Historical Fantasy World, political conspiracy, romance Rating: 18+ Content Warnings & story tags: includes explicit sex (mxf, fxf), possibly graphic violence/injury later, love and sex triangles or uh quadrangles?, sort of e 2 l, sort of bodyguard trope, sort of arranged marriage, a lot of plotting murder (it’s literally in the title), maybe character death, grief, pining, angst, love, oral (f & m receiving), I don’t know everything yet as the story is long and still being written

PREVIOUS | MASTERLIST | NEXT

NOTE: check out the Character & Setting Cheat Sheet for a refresher on who’s who

Seokjin surveyed his outfit, futzing with the high collar as Lord Sciurus pawed at the back of his hair and then his ear. Seokjin flinched and brushed him away, so the squirrel clambered to the other side and grabbed his earring. Seokjin gave in to his demands for attention and handed him another nut from the bowl at hand, which Lord Sciurus was more than capable of getting himself. At the crack of Lord Sciurus breaking into it, raining shell dust all over the shoulder of Seokjin’s dark blue jacket, the piggies came running into the room in a line and circled around Seokjin’s feet. He crouched down so they could run beneath his hand. Nutmeg decided she needed extra attention and put her little paws in his wrist to press it to the ground so she could nibble the end of his thumb.

“I already fed you all,” he reminded as Ginger ran through his legs. He’d taken breakfast in his private atrium, alone except for the sound of happily munching animals, as he wanted to be. He wasn’t spending as much time alone lately and it was exhausting him, to be frank. The masquerade, sparring, court, it felt like he had been pulled more wholly into the center of things than ever before Nasimiyu arrived and he wasn’t feeling superb about it. Obviously he knew it was coming, that there had been an expectation he would be stepping into royal heir role years ago and he hadn’t really; that getting married would be a sign to people he was ready to take his preparations as someday-king more seriously; that Nasimiyu herself believed she was coming here to marry a future king in more than just title. 

But dammit, he was tired!

And that was why he hadn’t gone to the kitchen lately, or the dining hall, and requested breakfast in his room. Not because he was avoiding one Yoongi Min of the kitchens. Why would he avoid a cook? Preposterous. 

He just wanted to make sure his sugar gliders Coco and Nilla were getting enough socialization. He had an animal handler who helped care for his pets so it’s not like they were ever alone any more than they wanted to be, any of them, but still. He knew he was their favorite and he didn’t want to be neglectful of them just because he had a fiance and a kingdom to learn how to run and a cook to avoid–

Not that he was avoiding Yoongi! He just didn’t know what to say to him. Well, he did know what to say to him, but he knew it was going to sound awkward because it wasn’t any of his business to ask Yoongi if he and Dulce were together now but also she was his fiance’s favorite maid so maybe he had some right to make sure Yoongi understood not to… you know…. Hurt her or get her pregnant too soon or something–

Seokjin curled his hand around the pouch hanging around his neck that Coco and Nilla had snuggled down in. Obviously it was great that Yoongi and Dulce had found each other. Great match, those two. He’d called it! It was a good development and he could be happy for his sort-of friend in a totally normal, not weird way, because what was there to be weird about?

So when his animals formed a guild to insist they had not been fed enough fresh treats this morning, Seokjin made sure Coco and Nilla were snug against his chest and set out for the garden to fix the delicacies himself, even though it ran the risk of running into Yoongi. Maybe he would luck out and this was a day off for Yoongi –although, come to think of it, he wasn’t sure Yoongi actually ever took days off.

Edmund caught up to him when he left his room, which wasn’t ideal because he wanted to be alone. He tried to just ignore the young bodyguard’s presence, wishing it was one of the older ones because they talked less. Jungkook was always his favorite, even though he talked a lot, but he was off. He took days off, why wouldn’t Yoongi?

Today was definitely not that day. Seokjin’s basket was only half-filled with crisp lettuce and swollen cucumbers and a few last straggler strawberries he’d found tucked behind the leaves when Yoongi strolled by with an empty basket of his own.

Seokjin expected Yoongi to realize he’d been avoiding him and quiz him on it immediately, but instead the cook just gave a nod in his direction –no bow, but it’s what Seokjin preferred, and they were mostly alone except for a few gardeners at the far end– and crouched to inspect the zucchini swelling from their spiky vines. He waited for Yoongi to say anything, or maybe voluntarily bring up Dulce and predict the questions Seokjin might understandably have about such progress in Yoongi’s life. He said nothing. Just selected two zucchini.

“Hey,” Seokjin called after only a moment. “Is that the only hello? Since when do you pick your own vegetables?”

“I’m trying a Paloman recipe and the zucchini need to be crisp but the gardeners brought mushy ones to me yesterday. They don’t want to waste the vegetables but I care about the quality of the food.”

Seokjin’s eyes bugged as he repeated, “A Paloman recipe? You’re using the royal kitchen for such private things?!”

It was ridiculous and Seokjin knew it as soon as he said it. They used the kitchen to make their own dishes all the time! And there was nothing out of line about Yoongi experimenting with new foods to feed the palace.

Yoongi’s eyebrow arched as he pushed up, and Seokjin hated the casual way he answered, “Well, the Princess requested it.” Seokjin’s embarrassment evaporated immediately –he never felt the need to hold onto it for long anyway– replaced by curiosity.

“Nasimiyu asked you to make it?”

“Yes, some dish her maid told her about. She asked me a few days ago to figure out how to make it.” He thought about it, then shrugged, “I think the maid’s birthday is coming up, maybe? I don’t know. I said I would try but it’s hard if I can’t just ask the maid about it.”

“By maid, don’t you mean Dulce, who we both know?” Seokjin laughed to sound casual about it too, because Yoongi was always so casual even when he cared a lot. Cool. “Why are you calling her like that, you think I don’t know? You can be forthright with me.”

This time Yoongi’s brows lowered and Seokjin felt like he’d hit on something directly, though the narrowed gaze was directed at two zucchini he compared in his hands.

“You know… that we both know Dulce?” Yoongi clarified with a glance.

“I know that you and Dulce are… I’m the royal prince, you don’t think I know everything that takes place under my roof? I know you two are together now. You don’t have to hide it from me! Did you think I would begrudge you a relationship?” For a moment, his words sounded sincere even to his own ears. They were sincere! His own thoughts were confusing him. Why wouldn’t he be thrilled for them? Unless Yoongi was only playing with her, which he clumsily tried to ferret out now, but perhaps Dulce wanted to be played with….? Seokjin decided to look closely and select the best zucchini for his animals, too.

For a long moment Yoongi didn’t say anything at all and Seokjin realized he must have made the shyer, quieter man uncomfortable. That wouldn’t have stopped him. He hated all the secrecy required for his life. People should feel free to be out and open, at least about their loves and affections. People took secrets too seriously. Life wasn’t made for secrets and shame. 

“You think I’m in a relationship with Dulce,” Yoongi clarified slowly. “And you care.”

“I don’t care.”

“You sound like you care.”

“I care because– ah, you’re my friend, and she is Nasimiyu’s favorite, so I want everyone to be happy.”

Yoongi nodded like he’d expected this answer. He had a way of always seeming like he knew everything which Seokjin envied because it would be a very admirable trait on the throne. King Dong-gun did the same, actually. Seokjin ought to figure out how to emulate it.

“I see. You’re asking because you want to be a supportive friend and make sure your people are happy.”

“Wait wait,” Seokjin interrupted, waving his free hand. “I’m not asking anything.”

“You want to know if I’m having a relationship with Dulce.”

“I didn’t ask that, I already know and I’m saying I support–”

“I don’t have a relationship with her,” Yoongi said. “Not any more of a relationship than you do.”

Seokjin shook his head and assured him, “I know she stayed with you after the masquerade. You don’t have to hide your relationship from me.”

“Do you have me watched? Or her?” Yoongi asked and for a moment his voice had almost an edge to it. It harkened back to how Seokjin had discovered about Yoongi’s political activities in Marvono in the first place, when he’d innocently been enjoying his day in the city and come across the cook meeting with a shady character in a side alley. He’d overheard more than Yoongi ought to be talking about in an open location –which Seokjin gave him an earful about, before demanding to know everything so he could decide whether Yoongi being in the palace was a security risk. He knew he ought to just turn him over immediately, but he’d already grown fond of the cook and wanted to decide for himself. A copious amount of alcohol later, Seokjin had what was probably mostly true about Yoongi’s youthful passion to make the world better. He wasn’t stupid enough to think he’d been told everything, but between that and just enough poking into the environmentalist group Yoongi had been a part of, Seokjin didn’t have further concerns. Yoongi was retired now anyway, content to cook and drink –as he had been telling the man in the alley in the first place. I don’t do that kind of thing anymore, sorry. Seokjin had thought to himself good, because you clearly aren’t good at it anymore if you’re so easily found out!

Seokjin frowned at the accusation and insisted, “Neither. But when she leaves your room the morning after in the middle of the palace, people notice–”

“What people?”

“Jungkook,” Seokjin huffed, annoyed with the questioning, like he’d done something wrong. “Why are you so upset about it? I’m saying I don’t care!”

“I’m not upset. She slept in my dorm that night, that’s all.”

“You don’t have to be shy about it,” Seokjin insisted. Now that it was out in the open, he was determined to get the confirmation. “I’m saying I support it.”

“And I’m saying nothing happened.”

“Then why did she sleep in your dorm, huh? Women just wander by to spend the night in a crowded room with a bunch of men for fun?” Seokjin laughed as he said it, it was such a ridiculous suggestion.

Yoongi shrugged, “I offered. She needed help getting out of her dress.”

“Ah! Yes, helping a woman out of her dress, famously not a thing you do before–”

“She said the Princess had put her into it but that Princess was busy now with a certain Prince.”

Seokjin’s mouth wavered, trying to find a joke that wouldn’t come as his neck prickled with a flush. 

“I helped her change and stash the dress. Probably she didn’t want the other maids to know she’d been at the ball. Servants hate when other servants step out of their rank just as much as nobles do.”

“And then you asked her to spend the night before that’s what any friend would do.” Seokjin meant it sarcastically, but Yoongi either didn’t pick up on it or ignored it.

“She seemed a little… off,” Yoongi said with a shrug. 

Seokjin blinked and looked at the vegetables in his basket. He ignored the hiccup in his chest.

“What do you mean off?” He felt very serious suddenly, like he couldn’t even pretend to be casual or playful.

“I thought maybe someone had been bothering her.”

“Why did you think that?”

“You have a lot of questions for someone who doesn’t care about any of this,” Yoongi mused, and Seokjin realized he had mindlessly followed Yoongi down two rows of the garden by now. 

“I care if maids are being harassed in my palace.”

“She said no one did. Maybe she was drunk or just sick of being around nobles,” Yoongi suggested. 

“She didn’t say anything to you about it?”

“Do you mean before or after we fucked?” Yoongi asked. Unfortunately Seokjin’s face seemed to do something against his will, because Yoongi grinned. “I told you we didn’t.”

“Now I don’t believe you!”

“We didn’t. But I’ll be sure to update you on any fucking I do in the future.”

“I don’t care who you fuck unless it’s– unless it might interfere with–” Seokjin broke off, not sure how to finish his own sentence in a way that didn’t sound strange. “Unless a member of the staff is being harassed. Then I need to know.”

“Well I’m not harassing anyway.”

“But you think someone else was?”

“I don’t know. She said no and she’s seemed fine again since the ball. Isn’t it enough to just be tired of the whole thing? She doesn’t belong there.”

“Yes…” Seokjin trailed off, thinking and also trying not to think too much. It made perfect sense that by the time Dulce left the ball, she was exhausted. And Nasimiyu couldn’t help her undress because she was undressing him. And she hadn’t wanted the other maids to know, so she’d needed a place to sleep.

The start Yoongi had given him with the suggestion someone might have bothered Dulce after Seokjin left and was no longer there to protect her was soothed. A lightness inflated his chest at learning all of this. Jungkook’s assumption had been wrong. Yoongi was not in fact in a relationship with Dulce, they had not even fooled around unless Yoongi was lying to his face, which he didn’t seem to be because why would he lie about something like this?

“Well you should just know you have my full blessing if you wish to pursue something romantically with her,” Seokjin said magnanimously. 

“.... Thanks,” Yoongi said with an undeniable slowness to the single word. “You have a rat poking out of your necklace.”

“Not every small animal is a rat!” Seokjin glanced down to see Nilla peeking her little head out the bag and he decided it was time to take his gatherings back anyway and let them eat and run around before he needed to go do Princely duty things. 

“If you say so.”

“I do say so. Good luck with your Paloman food. Let me try it too when it’s done, I insist.” 

Yoongi waved his hand like he was the prince here and assured him, “I figured you would. Come by and you can help me make it if you want.”

That was tempting. Dulce’s birthday was coming up, hm? He tucked this nugget of knowledge away. How old was she anyway? He wondered if she’d make a fuss if he gave her another of the Kalamouche novels as a gift. She’d probably wonder how he even knew it was her birthday coming up and he’d say something smooth about just knowing things.

He whistled as he walked off with his basket, morning sun warming his skin. He preferred the winter but summer could be nice too, couldn’t it? He whistled and whistled–

And stopped when he crossed paths with the woman herself in the yard, near the kitchens. 

“Lovely morning, isn’t it, fair Dulce?” he grinned, and continued on his way, resisting the urge to look back and see if she was flattered or confused or annoyed by the greeting. He worried he’d give away that he knew her birthday was coming up. Maybe Kalamouche was too generic, since he could just let her borrow the rest of them. Or maybe she’d like owning them herself? What was an appropriate birthday gift for a maid when you were the prince? 

Well the Prince certainly seemed to be in a good mood. And why wouldn’t he be? Dulce hadn’t been with Nasimiyu in a couple days now, banished to other odd jobs for no reason other than that the head matron was a bitch and maybe believed the rumors swirling that Dulce had snuck into the masquerade. Dulce had expected Nasimiyu to notice and call her back, but probably she was still too head-in-the-clouds over the Prince’s massive cock. 

And Dulce, to be honest, hadn’t minded the break. She’d spent the time thinking about heisting the painting as she cleaned silk slippers and pounded period stains out of underskirts, even though that ought to be a job for the laundresses. Dulce didn’t care for now. Mindless work was such a holiday from having to always be on alert and dealing with people. What a treat to be able to let her mind wander to something as exciting as a heist. With any luck, she wouldn’t even have to kill anyone.

But now she’d been summoned back, and if the Prince’s whistling and jaunty walk were anything to go by, Nasimiyu would be in a satiated good mood as well. Probably she hadn’t even noticed Dulce was out of sight for a few days, and she’d launch right into another nauseating monologue about sex with the Prince and Dulce would let her mind wander back to the way her arm burned scrubbing fabric against the washboard because that was preferable. 

Dulce knocked on Nasimiyu’s door, where she’d been told the Princess had retreated for “letter writing and refreshment.” She noticed the dirt on the bottom of her skirt, since she’d been watching sparring in the yard when the matron sent for her, and tried to kick it off before deciding she didn’t care. Nasimiyu wouldn’t notice anyway. At the lack of response, she opened the door and dragged the overladen cart inside. 

Nasimiyu sat inside at the desk near the window, actually writing letters after all.

“Hello,” Dulce called. “I’ve brought your refreshment, Princess.” She closed the door behind herself, proud of the proper address even though it wasn’t actually proper at all: a maid should never address her lady without being spoken to first, and use an honorific, not simply a title. She hated that she knew these things. She expected Nasimiyu to turn around and correct this faux pas with a bemused roll of her eyes.

Instead Nasimiyu continued to write something on her desk and just called over her shoulder, “Nice of you to show up.”

Dulce had expected this, though not in that tone, and pointed out, “I don’t control the schedule. Take it up with your head maid. She had me doing your laundry and shining your shoes.”

“Yes, you’ve ruined at least two pairs.”

“It’s almost as if I am not a maid,” Dulce quipped, parking the tray beside the table. 

“Oh, should I have Mirta reassign you to something you’re more suited for?” Nasimiyu asked. “Like… fucking nobles? Oh, but you’re already doing that, even without orders to.”

If Dulce was less good at what she did, perhaps this sudden barb would have elicited some visible response in her. Instead she felt an internal jolt telling her she needed to be on alert: she noted the edge to Nasimiyu’s voice, and the tension now obvious in her shoulders, and the way the princess still hadn’t turned to look at her. Anger. Dulce let this acknowledgement ease her around the nervous twist in her stomach that somehow Nasimiyu had found out and was, as Dulce had expected, angry. 

She kept her voice neutral as she leaned against the wall beside the desk, hiding any nerves or concern, and argued, “I believe your words were ‘You’re pretty and it’s the easiest way to get information from men’ as you commanded me to fuck for–”

“His staff!” Nasimiyu hissed, leaping to her feet. “Not fucking Lord Namjoon!”

Dulce gave her an innocent look and demanded, “Why, is Lord Namjoon off limits for some reason?”

“You know why.”

“I do not. He is a noble close to the Prince. You wanted to know about the previous fiance and Namjoon’s involvement–”

“Oh, you’re on a first name basis?”

“I think titles are ridiculous,” Dulce snapped, bothered by this whole conversation. So had Nasimiyu been the one to command her to laundry for several days? As what, punishment? She’d known Nasimiyu would be upset to learn this but honestly, it was so juvenile. “And so is your response. It’s sex. You have it too.”

“With my fiance.”

“Then what are you so bothered about Namjoon for?”

Nasimiyu grabbed Dulce’s arms and shoved her back against the wall, and Dulce let her spend this emotion, curious what Nasimiyu would actually say about it once her tantrum ended. She’d always found the limits of Nasimiyu’s violence amusing. She’d never had a physical fight in her life and Dulce didn’t think she’d be capable of it. Now she seemed intent on walking a thin line between truth and lies. Why not just admit she was obsessed with Namjoon? 

“It’s not part of the plan,” Nasimiyu said.

“Everything is part of the plan,” Dulce countered, painting her own behavior with a broad, favorable brush stroke. “You have no reason to be bothered by my techniques to get information–”

“You knew you shouldn’t fuck Namjoon–”

“Why? So you could fuck him for information?” Dulce pressed. “Your parents were right, he’s distracting you.”

She hadn’t actually intended that to be the magnitude of attack Nasimiyu clearly took it for. She was just hot under scrutiny about a thing she felt secret shame over, and didn’t like that Nasimiyu was resisting her perfectly logical explanation about it. But Nasimiyu ran even hotter at this accusation and bashed Dulce back against the wall again and then delivered a harsh slap across the face.

This was not like Nasimiyu at all. Nasimiyu had never lashed out at her like that.

“How dare you accuse me of that,” Nasimiyu hissed. “I have my purpose for Namjoon and it is not to waste him now with some drunk fuck with a maid at a masquerade. He will be part of my cabinet once I am queen–”

Dulce’s eyebrows raised as she asked carefully, “Are you going to marry him once the Prince is dead?” 

“I didn’t say that! But his mind–”

“Is probably clever enough to work you for a chair by your side–” Dulce began to point out. Nasimiyu moved sharply again as though to strike but Dulce didn’t flinch. Never flinch. The flinch gave power to the other person’s threat. Even if they struck you, a lack of response made their assault look feeble.

“He’s not working me. I’m trying to work him and he’s avoiding me! He’s being accused by spoiled brats of ridiculous dramas when he’s far too busy thinking about the future of this nearly ruined country to bother with some eighteen-year-old,” Nasimiyu said, spinning away. Dulce had no clue what she was talking about and just watched, waiting. Nasimiyu seemed wild with anger in a way Dulce had never been truly in the crossfire of. Always before it just resulted in Nasimiyu half-jokingly asked if Dulce couldn’t just take care of the problem person for her. 

“He’s brilliant,” Nasimiyu continued, “and he’d be an incredible mind to have as part of my cabinet if you don’t go around fucking him–”

“That’s bullshit. He chose to fuck me and I’m sure there are plenty other women too. If fucking distracts him from his own policies then why do you need him? You’re not mad about that, stop lying to us both.”

“What do you know, what I’m mad about?!” Nasimiyu whirled on her. “You know me so little you thought I wanted you to fuck him. I told you to fuck Jungkook or Jimin! They’re–”

“What? Lower staff, like me? Appropriate for sex with your maid?”

Dulce hated Nasimiyu in that moment, for blaming her instead of Namjoon, for putting him on a pedestal, for being jealous of him. 

“It’s not about that! I fuck you, don’t I? And I’m far above some lord–”

“Then what is it? I did what you told me to, I fucked for information with my disposable body.”

“That’s what you do.”

“That is not what I do,” Dulce snapped, getting as into Nasimiyu’s face as she could with the height difference. “You forget? I’m an assassin, not a whore. I’m not even a spy and yet you have me sneaking around this palace listening for drama about failed betrothals or the weaknesses of a royal family that don’t even hide them. If you just had a fucking conversation with your betrothed that idiot would lay it all out for you! But the only part of him you’re interested in is the part that can sexually serve you–”

“Jealous?”

“Are you jealous?” Dulce interrupted. “Of Namjoon, not of me. I’ve been by your side for years and–”

“Because my father is blackmailing you,” Nasimiyu snorted and turned away and crossed her arms like a sulking child.

Dulce let that hang for a moment, to give herself time to settle the internal chaos of that one confession.

“You know,” Dulce said slowly. “You know your father is threatening my family… and you didn’t do anything.”

“You don’t even like your family, you abandoned them years ago, and all he’s asking from you is to serve me. That’s not a hardship so what does it matter?”

“No? Do you want to go pound the period stains out of my skirts and shine my shoes?”

“You didn’t have to do that. You could have come to me when Mirte told you to do that. But you didn’t. Why not?” Nasimiyu spun with a fierce, cocky smile, like she already knew the answer. Dulce had wanted to lay low for a bit. She had expected Nasimiyu to be angry about Namjoon.

“I needed a break from you,” Dulce said. It was a weak answer though, and Nasimiyu seemed to gain strength from it, as if she saw some victory looming in the distance and could now reach for it.

“Because you knew what you had done. You knew I would be furious that you fucked Namjoon. You knew that–”

“That you have feelings for him?” Dulce pressed. It sounded ridiculous to say. She felt embarrassed for Nasimiyu. How embarrassing to have feelings for someone, especially in Nasimiyu’s position, but in anyone’s really. It didn’t even matter if the feelings were real or just infatuation, it was obvious now that Nasimiyu believed them to be.

“I do not.”

Dulce didn’t say anything. She didn’t need to rattle off the evidence of it: the trailing after Namjoon at the ball, the obsession over whom he danced with, and even before that, the obviously calculated attempts to be in his path, to strike up conversation. She saw in it now much of the same behavior Nasimiyu had when they’d first met, and suddenly this princess in disguise was constantly in the tavern, constantly the next table over, constantly offering to buy a round.

“Be careful. Having feelings for someone doesn’t mean they’re returned and it’s more likely to land you in shit.”

“Yes, because you’re such an expert at feelings,” Nasimiyu scoffed. “You’ve never let yourself feel anything for anyone.”

Part of Dulce wanted to confirm that. What a lovely way to be. She wanted to be like that. She wanted Nasimiyu to believe she was like that. And yet for reasons she could not explain, some strange weak part of her suddenly felt like the opposite was true, like she needed to prove Nasimiyu was wrong and claim victory for herself. Nasimiyu thought she knew her so well, that she was nothing but a cold, unfeeling machine? She didn’t know her at all. 

“Then why did I stay behind?”

“Because my father is blackmailing you–”

“No,” Dulce interrupted. “That party in Lair that you insisted on going to because you wanted to part of that ridiculous short-sighted cult–”

“It was a political group, and they had good ideas! They wanted to change the world–”

“You don’t even know what you’re talking about because your death is the way they want to change the world, your whole family’s death and everyone like you,” Dulce interrupted. “They’d have slit your throat in a heartbeat if they knew who you were. But you wanted to be a hero and I told you it was a bad idea but you insisted on going and it got raided just like I said and there you were right in the middle of it.”

Nasimiyu wasn’t looking at her, rightfully shamed by this instance in which she had been so pig-headed and wrong, and tried, “We got caught–”

“No, you got caught. I could have escaped easily because I knew to plan my exit the second we walked in and you were too busy throwing yourself into it, like somehow you could convince them to make you their queen anyway. You were slow and stupid and instead of saving my own skin I stayed to protect you.”

“Which was ridiculous. I was perfectly fine. My father paid a small ransom–”

“To himself! He was behind the raid!”

“No, the Brothers of Sunset were–”

“Everyone knows the Brothers of Sunset are funded by the royal family of Marvono,” Dulce sighed, deeply annoyed with just how blind Nasimiyu could be. 

“That’s a rumor. The Brothers of Sunset sold you to my father.”

“They didn’t need to. Open your eyes and look at your own family.”

Nasimiyu blinked at her. Dulce could practically see Nasimiyu’s thoughts warring with each other. But she couldn’t reconcile this, so she pushed it away, and argued, “It’s not like I have ever supported my father’s policies anyway.”

“What have you done differently? Now he will put you on the throne–”

“And I will finally have the power to do what I see as right.”

“You will be his pawn on the throne.”

“You’re such a bitch,” Nasimiyu cried and clenched her fists like she wanted to strike Dulce again. “You don’t believe I could have a thought in my head that’s not my father’s despite everything I have ever said against him. You know that.”

“But you’re angry with me for having sex with some noble you’ve taken a fancy to.”

“Because he’s mine,” Nasimiyu finally admitted, but surprised Dulce by adding, “And you’re supposed to be mine too. He’s not yours to fuck or kill.”

“Oh,” Dulce said as the truth came into sharp clarity. A truth she had known but until this moment tried to find all evidence to disprove. “I’m yours the way a dog is.”

“That’s not what I said.”

“You just did. I’m a bitch. I’m your bitch, and your fathers. Maybe that’s no different than how you are with the Prince or even how you want to be with Namjoon. Do you actually care about anyone or are we all just pawns in the end? You really are just like your father–”

Nasimiyu tried to box her ears but Dulce slid away as Nasimiyu shouted, “Don’t say that! Shut up! You’re so proud of yourself that you know where to twist the daggers! Who’s the monster, me or you? Yes, I am calculated in what I do to achieve my goal. Yes, people will get hurt. But my goal is the greater good and if some nobles get hurt along the way, so be it! How rich of you to judge me! At least I live by my principles–”

“When it suits you.”

“You kill for money. You fuck for information. You pretend to care to save your own skin.” Nasimiyu shouted and Dulce couldn’t pretend not to see the way emotion wracked her whole body. By comparison, Dulce knew she looked cold, exactly like Nasimiyu accused. She just couldn’t lose control the way Nasimiyu could. It wasn’t possible for her, not in anger or in joy.

“Then why did I stay during the raid?” she demanded.

“There was something in it for you! I don’t know what! Maybe you were in league for the ransom–”

“With your father who you know is now blackmailing me?”

“Maybe that’s a lie too! Just a stupid lie to lead poor stupid Nasimiyu along by the nose.”

“You’re losing your mind,” Dulce said slowly, realization and something akin to fear creeping in. 

“I’m not going crazy, I’m realizing I can’t trust anyone, even you.”

Dulce had so many responses to that but gave none of them. Hadn’t she always believed that too, not to trust anyone but yourself? But she didn’t think that made for a good ruler, for what little she knew about it. The Prince seemed to trust everyone, the poor idiot, and it was going to get him heartbroken (again) and killed. But how could you claim to serve a kingdom if you didn’t trust any of them? The paranoia would destroy a kingdom.

Dulce didn’t want to be a part of this anymore. She couldn’t watch Nasimiyu’s downfall. 

“Fine, then I’ll leave. I didn’t realize that noble egg-head was so important to you that you’d throw over your plan for him.”

“I’m not throwing anything over except a liar and a manipulator.”

“No? You’re going to pull it off without me? You don’t know the first thing about getting information from people. It requires listening, for one. It requires looking at a person when they’re right in front of you.”

“I do look,” Nasimiyu shouted and planted her feet and stared Dulce down, as if to prove it. It struck Dulce that Nasimiyu’s voice was loud and her words were sharp but her body language didn’t match. The pacing, the swaying, the lack of eye contact. Dulce wouldn’t pretend to understand Nasimiyu’s true emotions ever, but right now she seemed more like a floundering child than a princess with a dangerous father and the upper hand. 

“Besides, you haven’t even learned anything. You fucked Namjoon for information? What information. Tell me, if your actions were so noble and not meant to hurt me.”

“Hurt you?” Dulce repeated. “You think I fucked someone to hurt you?”

“After I took the Prince into my bed? You’ve been prickly with jealousy ever since.”

Dulce would have rolled her eyes if she was stupid enough to allow an externalization like that. Instead she pressed, 

“Which is it? Do I care about you or do I not care at all?”

The discrepancy in her argument brought Nasimiyu up short. Dulce felt very proud of it. She was a person usually more clever with observations than words, but her ability to mostly suppress her emotions at a moment like this paid off. It was a skill Nasimiyu struggled with –unfortunate for a future queen. 

In an attempt to fix her own twisted argument, Nasimiyu accused, “For all I know, you’re jealous of the prince, not me. You speak so highly of him and go all moon-eyed around him.”

Dulce didn’t even bother to respond to that. It was so ridiculous, so absurd of an accusation. Did Nasimiyu think she was some besotted child? Over that bumbling rat-brain who couldn’t even preserve his own skin enough to not get caught sneaking out of the palace in a disguise that consisted of nothing but slightly less-nice clothing and spectacles?!

Dulce had a thousand things she wanted to say in response to that but decided silence was the best. Refusing to dignify such a ridiculous accusation was all that she could do, and the longer the silence lasted, the more absurd she hoped Nasimiyu felt.

Instead, after an acceptable period of time, Dulce offered, “While you’ve been busy chasing after men, I’ve learned quite a bit. I fucked Namjoon to learn things and because of it, now I have blackmail material –he didn’t want anyone to know he fucked a maid.”

“That’s not how blackmail works, you’d have no proof if it’s your word against his.”

“Then how did you know?” Dulce bluffed, taking a gamble that it was not from a confession of Namjoon’s.

“You were seen… on purpose?” Nasimiyu asked. Dulce tilted her head, letting the gesture lie for her. Oops. She wondered who had seen them but decided not to ask and see if Nasimiyu just told her. People told you all sorts of things if you stopped talking and let them. 

Nasimiyu considered this for a moment and her expression looked shockingly different as she mused, “Çiğdem didn’t know who you were when she saw you, but Lidmila figured it out by her description…” Yes, exactly like that! The description of it brought to mind a story Dulce’s mother used to tell her as a child, about a farm girl who went to a ball in disguise and won the heart of a prince, but she could only be recognized by her shoe. Dulce had thought that was stupid because how could the prince possibly love her if he couldn’t recognize her at all? You couldn’t know and love someone if you needed a shoe to tell you who they were. And also, why would a shoe only fit one foot in a whole kingdom? 

Lidmila was a wild-card in this belated blackmail plan, since who knew she might tell, but Çiğdem seeing without recognizing her, and her being able to provide the dress and crown she wore as proof, were really perfect. She couldn’t have planned it better if it was on purpose.

Nasimiyu looked less sure of herself now and crossed her arms as she demanded, “What else have you learned? You’ve reported nothing to me. Are you reporting directly to my father?”

“No. I’m here to help you, not him.”

“He’s the one blackmailing you.”

“And why haven’t I killed him for it, Nasimiyu? Do you think I enjoy threats to my family? It doesn’t matter that they are nothing to me, they are still mine.”

“Because you can’t kill him,” Nasimiyu said. “It’s impossible.”

“He can die just like anyone else.”

“Then why don’t you?”

Because I think you would never forgive me and so for now I play along. Or maybe it really was because I’m not sure I can either. Hasimi did seem like something beyond a mortal at times. He didn’t even keep bodyguards with him at all times. Every assassination attempt –and there had been many– had failed, often by his own defense.

“He has bigger things to pay for than blackmailing me,” Dulce said. “If you become the queen you say you will be, you’ll make it happen.”

There. That appealed beautifully to Nasimiyu’s view of herself and Dulce could see it in the lift of her shoulders. 

“Then tell me what you’ve found at once,” Nasimiyu said. Dulce suspected there was a silent threat in there. Tell me or I’ll send word to my father. Tell me or I’ll have you taken care of. It made Dulce glad that Nasimiyu didn’t know any real way to hurt her except to have her killed which, frankly, was not such a terrible thing. Nasimiyu wasn’t the torturing type, though Dulce had a suspicion Prince Hamisi was. And Dulce had no other weaknesses, emotional or personal. Nasimiyu didn’t even know where her family was in Paloma.

Just as Dulce began to think how queenly it was for Nasimiyu not to get over-specific in a threat, Nasimiyu ruined it be demanding, “Tell me or I will let me father know you are wasting our time and you’ve only come here to fuck nobles.” Of all things Nasimiyu could accuse her of, that was the most ridiculous. Yes, because Dulce loved doing anything with nobles besides killing them.

“Fine,” Dulce said, sorting through her mind for anything she felt safe telling this angry, spoiled princess. “The Queen and Lidmila’s mother were lovers.”

“What? Is that why–”

“She died? I don’t know if it was a suspicious death. The King and Prince both seem to genuinely mourn her still.”

Nasimiyu sighed, “That’s true. I don’t think he’d still be so racked with grief about her if he’d killed her.” Oh you naive fool, Dulce mused.

“He may not have cared. The King had at least one affair, maybe more, which the queen knew about and approved.”

“How do you know that?” Nasimiyu asked suspiciously. “People will lie–”

“I know people lie, and I know how to tell the difference. I won’t reveal my sources. It’s better to protect you.��

Nasimiyu didn’t push. The same woman who a moment ago had said she couldn’t trust Dulce anymore now trusted her again. She really was just upset about Namjoon. Dulce swore to never let herself get so tangled up in feelings as to behave this ridiculously. Quietly, internally, she began to untie the threads connecting her to Nasimiyu. It was for the best.

Instead of questioning her source, Nasimiyu pressed, “So there might be illegitimate children. That woman with the children in court that day!”

“I’m looking into it,” Dulce said. That was actually a good point, and worth investigating. Just because Taehyung had made it sound like his mother was the only one King Dong-gun loved didn’t mean anything. Children would believe anything about their parents until forced to confront the truth. 

“Those may be people with motive to kill the king and prince…”

Dulce nodded.

“And Lady Aukem… Surely Lidmila doesn’t know. Unless… does she hope to have the same relationship with me? Is that why she’s always at my elbow?” She seemed to almost get caught up in this, then stopped herself. “But what of proof?”

“There are paintings in the Queen’s chamber that prove it.”

“Prove it how?”

“Sexual paintings made by the Queen herself.”

“Then you need to get those paintings.”

Dulce nodded, “I’m working on that as well. It has to be secretly done or the King will notice them missing and plan a counter for it. Those types of secrets only work with the element of surprise.” Honestly Dulce was sort of bullshitting because she didn’t bother with those kinds of secrets and betrayals but she seemed to have the gist of it from what she’d witnessed among nobles because the princess nodded like this was all true. Belatedly she realized she’d just spoken outloud a line from Kalamouche. Fucking mortifying…

“Very well. Bring me the illegitimate children and the paintings and I’ll think about forgetting you fucked up with Namjoon.”

“Do you think I would seek out a man like that for my own pleasure?” Dulce pressed because the lofty tone Nasimiyu used pissed her off, like suddenly she had decided she really was a high-born princess and Dulce was the farm girl she had to scrape off her shoe.

“I don’t think I know you at all,” Nasimiyu scoffed. “But if you are so committed to me and the dreams I have for Priva, then you’ll understand why I have to keep you at arm’s length now.”

“Because you want me to grovel.”

“To protect myself.”

“From what exactly?”

“Just go,” Nasimiyu snapped. “Go fetch those and act like the maid you’re supposed to be. No fucking nobles.”

“Turns out that’s exactly what a noble like Namjoon does.”

Nasimiyu tightened up with rage. Dulce hadn’t meant to escalate again, but it felt good to twist the knife like that after Nasimiyu had essentially confirmed Dulce was nothing to her. You are mine because I control you and who you fuck was not the same as you are mine because I care for you and desire you and want you only with me. Not that Dulce wanted to be loved or claimed but this was the confirmation she shouldn’t have needed that she should figure out how to protect her family from Prince Hamisi and then get out. 

A lot of money from King Dong-gun and the Marvonese families heads on pikes for treason felt about right.

Dulce hated the part of herself that recoiled from the thought of that fate for Nasimiyu. She wondered if she could actually ever go through with harming Nasimiyu. 

“I’m going, Princess, but it’s harder for me to find things when I’m busy with the laundry so think up another punishment for me.”

“GO.”

Dulce gladly did so, and recognized that could have gone worse, but it wasn't exactly a victory either.

Nasimiyu was ready to explode by the time the door slammed on the heels of Dulce. The whole argument had exhausted her. It made her angrier. It made her doubt. She had expected to vent her rage at Dulce for fucking Namjoon –who Dulce knew she was fond of, Dulce didn’t need to try and make her admit it– and then Dulce would apologize and promise to make it up to her and Nasimiyu would let her pretend that her forgiveness could be earned.

Could it? She wasn’t sure. She’d been so startled by her own anger at Dulce that she’d kept her away for several days, not sure what to do with her own feelings. She hated Dulce for fucking Namjoon. She hated Namjoon for fucking her maid. She’d meant to ask Dulce who had started it –desperate to hear that Dulce had seduced Namjoon, but also secretly hoping to hear that Dulce had succumbed to some evil charm of Namjoon’s. Which of them did she want to be the bad one? She wasn’t sure, because either one was a betrayal she had not been prepared for. 

Her heart had betrayed her when Dulce brought up the manner in which she’d been caught. Nasimiyu had known back then that Dulce could have escaped. Nasimiyu had known Dulce stayed to protect her. She loved being Dulce’s weakness and it had made her complacent all this time. Even knowing Dulce was being blackmailed, Nasimiyu had figured her father was the idiot, blackmailing Dulce to do what she would have done simply by being asked. Her father just didn’t understand people.

But maybe she was the idiot. Her hope that Dulce might blame her indiscretion on jealousy about Nasimiyu fucking the Prince failed to come true. Instead Dulce made her sound like a stupid girl who men were leading around by the pussy, overcome with her own weak emotions in the face of the hard truths of life and power. Nasimiyu was plenty strong for those hard truths! 

Even if that meant Dulce fucking Namjoon?

But that just felt so personal!

It made her doubt Dulce. It made her suspect Namjoon. It made her realize she couldn’t trust anyone if she was going to be queen. Maybe it was better that she was seeing people for who they really were right now, before she gained power, because people were only going to get worse once she actually ran the country.

It was this dark headspace in which Mindeulle found Nasimiyu stalking the corridors of the palace furthest from the gross, smelly ocean.

“Is everything all right?” she asked gently –as if Nasimiyu had only stubbed her toe, or run out of her favorite dessert!

“What is it?” Nasimiyu asked, assuming Mindeulle had sought her out. “I’m not in the mood right now, is it in an emergency?”

“In the mood for…?”

“Have you got something to tell me?” Nasimiyu demanded. The thought occurred to her that Mindeulle might also have some betrayal to confess to her now, why not? They barely knew each other but that hadn’t stopped Namjoon! And Lidmila! Was she just trying to get into Nasimiyu’s bed like her mother and the previous queen?

But Mindeulle just blinked and looked so startled that it made Nasimiyu back away from her own frustrated rage.

“Sorry,” she murmured. “It’s not a good week.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. Is there anything I can do? Or just… listen? If you’d like to talk?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Mindeulle looked stricken as she gave a slight curtsy, “Oh, I understand. I can’t begin to understand the pressure you must deal with.”

“I’m not patronizing you. Your brother is half to blame for my week and so it wouldn’t be appropriate.”

“Oh.” 

Nasimiyu hadn’t meant to say that much but the innocent way Mindeulle looked at her pulled it out, damn her with those coal black eyes. Darker than her brother’s. Good, any difference between them would only serve Mindeulle well. She’d be better off if their similarities ended with the dimples and the smile they shared, poor girl.

“Actually, I wanted to tell you…” Mindeulle looked around the hall, then drew close. She hesitated at the last second and backed away, but now Nasimiyu wanted to know whatever it was. She was sick of people keeping secrets from her. She was going to be the queen, she was supposed to know everything first!

“What is it?”

“I spoke with my brother,” Mindeulle insisted, coming closer. “He swears on his life that he is no one’s penpal except the King’s, you could say, as he’s always sending letters, but the King rarely writes back so I don’t suppose that counts.”

It sounded like MIndeulle was nervous and rambling, which softened Nasimiyu the tiniest bit.

“I know you told me to question him or that I’m biased because I’m his sister, but I know it’s the truth. I’m his sister, I know how to make him fold if he tries to lie to me. Çiğdem is the one who asked to be his first dance. I think I told you, originally he asked me, and I told him it can’t be your sister, so he accepted when she asked.”

“But it’s a first dance,” Nasimiyu argued. “Surely he’s not so stupid he doesn’t understand–”

“He is that stupid about balls,” Mindeulle insisted. “He’s never cared for them and he doesn’t pay attention to that kind of etiquette.”

“He certainly had no problem refusing his future queen a perfectly appropriate dance.”

Mindeulle’s voice dropped to barely a whisper as she said, “Yes but I told you… he wants to be so careful after the last time.”

“You said that wasn’t true either.”

“But Prince Seokjin thinks it was and despite the way they fight, we love him as our brother. We’ll love you as our sister too. We never want to do anything, either one of us, to hurt you or Prince Seokjin.”

It rankled Nasimiyu something fierce. She thought Mindeulle must also be talking circles around her, to stand there and insist she knew the truth about her own brother when clearly she didn’t. They didn’t want to hurt her? Well Namjoon certainly had!

“Your brother told you he wasn’t with anyone that night?” Nasimiyu snapped. She grabbed Mindeulle and dragged her out to a small balcony overlooking the city, nearly kicking one of the chairs over in her fury. “Did he tell you that? Nobody?”

“I…” Mindeulle got that look on her face, like she knew Nasimiyu was laying a trap for her. Or maybe that she might be about to face a truth she didn’t want to hear. “I suppose I didn’t ask about anybody… I only asked about Çiğdem and being a penpal.”

“He fucked my maid,” Nasimiyu said. Mindeulle visibly flinched, her long lashes fluttering like hummingbirds with her rapid blinking. 

“He… your maid? But…”

“Yes, my favorite maid. That’s who Çiğdem saw him with. Is that better? That he’s having sex with women so far beneath him, with no power to–”

“You don’t mean he took advantage of her. He wouldn’t–”

Nasimiyu wanted to say yes and fuel such a horrible lie, but couldn’t stomach it. Cruel and rapist were different and Mindeulle already looked so shocked that she balked at making it worse than the truth.

“I don’t mean he raped her, but can there truly be equality in that situation? And do you mean he didn’t stop to think I might not want him having sex with my staff? It’s an insult to my house.”

“I’m so– he didn’t know. He wouldn’t realize there was meaning behind it. Surely he just… he must have just…”

“Grow up, Mindeulle. This brother you idolize is just a man, same as the rest of them. They’ll fuck who they please and not think about who gets hurt. Honestly, in a garden at Seokjin’s and my ball?!”

Mindeulle covered her face and spun away, as if that truly made it even more horrible. Nasimiyu didn’t actually care about that part and was surprised to see how deeply propriety ran in Mindeulle. She looked on the verge of a complete breakdown now. Nasimiyu decided it must be true, that Mindeulle really did idolize and adore her older brother. And she was the one who had just shattered it. What, had Mindeulle thought her brother truly some virginal, reclusive thinker, above all carnal knowledge or desire?! That seemed so…

Innocent? Immature? 

More gently, Nasimiyu sighed, “I’m sorry to be the one to make you understand all this. You’re going to be crushed if you don’t see people for who they really are.”

Mindeulle’s eyes ran over with tears as she turned and insisted, “I do see people for who they really are. I know my brother has a brilliant mind full of ideas but he misses the social etiquette and rules of propriety sometimes. I’m so sorry he’s insulted your house like this and I know it was not his intention at all.”

Nasimiyu wanted to argue with her. I’m not so sure that’s true. But she couldn’t because it would make her seem pathetic, to insist Namjoon wanted to hurt her. She wouldn’t be able to explain why. Honestly, she wasn’t even so sure herself, face to face with this woman who actually looked quite a bit like him, because what would be his motive? In what way did he get her by fucking her maid? He had no reason to want to get her. If he had any feelings for her at all, wouldn’t he be out to hurt Seokjin in his jealousy?  

“I don’t know how to make this right,” Mindeulle fretted, wringing her hands. “I’m deeply sorry that his behavior has been offensive to you, and I know he will be equally as unhappy to hear it. I’ll go tell him now–”

“No,” Nasimiyu said, grabbing her arm. “No.” Fuck, the last thing she wanted was Mindeulle running to tell Namjoon he’d hurt her feelings. “I don’t need you to do that.”

“Then what can I do?”

“Nothing.” Mindeulle audibly gasped, so Nasimiyu hurried to force the words out, “I don’t think there’s anything anyone can do about it right now except do our best and give it time. Perhaps you can educate him on proper behavior while he’s in the capitol, otherwise I suppose Prince Seokjin will need to.” 

An idea formed in her mind as the name rolled off her tongue. Yes, that made so much more sense. This wasn’t Mindeulle’s mess to be tangled up in, but it would be an excellent one to enlist Seokjin into. He wanted a reason to hate Namjoon, so fine, she’d give him another that wouldn’t in any way tarnish her own appearance. Seokjin would chase Namjoon out of the capitol and he could use that brilliant mind of his to go back to doing what he was good at: writing long letters that now she wouldn’t read either. Maybe by the time she became queen, he’d earn her forgiveness or maybe he’d die in obscurity but at least he wouldn’t be around to tempt her away from her goal.

Not that she was still tempted! How dare he fuck her maid?!

At least not unless he begged, which she didn’t see him doing.

“And your maid,” Mindeulle prodded gently, stepping closer to Nasimiyu as if this was even more secret. “Is she… all right?”

“Do you mean did I send her packing? I’m not sure what to do with her yet,” Nasimiyu admitted. 

“You ought to get rid of her, for sure! If she knowingly participated in something so offensive and insulting to her lady.”

“Exactly what I thought,” Nasimiyu agreed. “She has no excuse, she knew this would reflect badly on me and my trust in her. Am I supposed to keep her close, knowing she betrayed me this way? It’s so hard to know who I can trust these days.” The words tumbled out as Mindeulle tapped just the right hollow. She’d said her piece before she realized she had minutes ago decided not to trust anyone ever again.

Mindeulle seemed to forget her own distress and insisted, “Obviously you can’t trust her! She’s lucky if all you do is take her job!”

“What else would I do?” Nasimiyu asked, curious what exactly this innocent little sister would suggest as punishment.

“Her priorities are all wrong. There are places of learning in Therepin where she could work  apart from men.”

“With other women? That’s no difference to her then,” Nasimiyu snickered, actually snickered because the thought of banishing Dulce from having sex with anyone ever again was so fucking funny. She wished she actually could do that! But Dulce would absolutely escape, and probably fuck all the women on her way out just to make sure it got back to Nasimiyu.

“Oh.” Mindeulle looked flustered as she turned away. “Well… you could at least banish her from Priva and send her far away to some awful place like… like Destin or Rinsk or–”

“She’s from Paloma. She hates it there, that would be a deserving punishment too.”

Mindeulle’s smile grew and she had a laugh like chiming bells as she agreed, “That’s clever and creative and deserved.”

“I’ll think about it. For now–”

“Please send her away, not us,” Mindeulle suddenly gasped out, then covered her mouth, “Oh, I interrupted you, I’m sorry!” Nasimiyu paused before responding because it didn’t feel like a Mindeulle response, for some reason she couldn’t quite put her finger on. For a brief moment, it had sounded like someone else’s voice or reaction… but she wasn’t sure whose.

Just as quickly she shook the feeling off and assured her, “I’m not sending you away. As for your brother…. Well, I don’t have that power yet, I don’t know what I’ll do about that either. But be careful that you don’t get tangled up with any of it. Don’t go down with someone just because they’re family. You don’t have to be your brother.”

“I’ll remember that, thank you. I mean, I’ll be careful. I don’t know what else to say right now, I’m just so sorry this happened… I don’t even know what to say to him about it.”

“It’s an awkward thing to talk about between a brother and sister. I’m glad I don’t have any brothers, though my sisters were enough.” It amused her to say, as if she wasn’t the one causing them headaches back home. One of her sisters had caught a rumor she was hanging out in a tavern once, and it had taken weeks of bribing (more like blackmailing about her underground horse racing) to get her to keep the secret. The other sister definitely would have gone right to their parents.

Nasimiyu felt comfortable knowing that she wouldn’t be the one kicking Namjoon out of Priva. She hoped she could convince Seokjin to let Mindeulle stay, or perhaps Mindeulle’s parents if that was the obstacle. She was one of the few young women who seemed to think mostly for herself around here, and Nasimiyu knew she’d miss her presence if she left.

But she was confident in her ability to manage it, and that helped calm her further. The anger still simmered, but it felt more in the background now. Soothed. She’d have a talk with Seokjin, Namjoon would suffer exile, Dulce would earn her forgiveness, and Nasimiyu’s plan would continue without a hitch. Maybe Mindeulle would prove herself even more clever but underutilized than her brother, and she would be the better advisor in the cabinet.

“Mindeulle, what sort of things are you passionate about? I knew a few of them, but join me for lunch and tell me more?”

“Oh! Well– yes, of course! I’d be happy to join you for lunch.”

“Come, let’s eat in the private dining hall, I’d rather not deal with people right now,” Nasimiyu said, and Mindeulle looked pleased to not be considered people. Working someone wasn’t the same as trusting them, but Mindeulle felt like a good replacement for now. There was something soothing about her, though Nasimiyu was glad she hadn’t groveled longer about her brother. It would have been annoying. Instead, she’d let her revenge fantasy rest for a meal; fighting left her very hungry.

Seokjin resisted the urge to nap through his afternoon sitting on council. Just barely. He even made a suggestion that sounded smart. It was about road repair and where the money could come from and the nobles on the council were not too happy about his tax idea which meant it was probably a great idea.

He was sent away with reports to read for the afternoon, which he did not do, but he convinced Jimin and Taehyung to compete in a trivia game which he made up on the spot, and which they were terrible at but it amused him a great deal. Everything just seemed to be going his way today, he couldn’t have explained his good mood for any other reason. He even found a book he’d been missing for weeks, just tucked away beneath some papers he must not have moved. It had belonged to his mother, just some historical account of something boring, but she had doodled pictures and notes in the margin, so he’d always held it close. He’d always felt like it was proof that his mother had struggled to grow into the role and take everything so seriously too.

The sun was shining, the Sunflower festival was just around the corner, and he had a beautiful fiance who had not turned away from his jokes at dinner last night. He grinned at the memory of it –he’d almost convinced himself she smiled at one!-- as he caught sight of her across the courtyard in the afternoon. He’d expected she might be resting in her room as she often seemed to do this time of day, but instead it looked like she was headed somewhere specifically; there was a purpose to her walk that he found interesting because he so rarely had that type of energy. He was a prince, he’d be on time when he got to where he was going.

His smile faltered when he glanced to the side and noted Namjoon leaning against a column, deep in conversation with a few other Therepin thinkers. Probably talking about profound���.ly boring things.

But it looked like Nasimiyu was headed their way, and Seokjin found that intolerable. Not today, on this lovely day! He had a twisted thought that he wanted to see if she would be upset if he interrupted her mission to speak with Namjoon. He didn’t want her to speak with Namjoon. Was she actually growing fond enough of him that she could accept his sudden appearance?

“Nasimiyu!” he called, not caring that it would draw attention –or maybe glad it would, in case Namjoon got to witness his connection with this beautiful woman.

She looked over as he headed for her and, to his delight, the direction of her steps changed to meet him. 

“Ah, were you looking for me too?” he joked.

“Yes,” she said. “Who else would I be looking for? I thought you might be in the stables, you seem to go there a lot.”

He didn’t think that was true but decided not to question it. Maybe she had been going to the stables hoping to go for a ride?

“Would you like to ride this afternoon?” he asked her.

“No, not today, it’s far too hot.” He thought it was actually a surprisingly mild day, but again didn’t argue in case he upset her and she stalked away in front of Namjoon. “I need to tell you something.” She glanced in Namjoon’s direction, barely perceptible if he wasn’t watching Nasimiyu so closely. “In private.”

Seokjin’s stomach twisted.

“Oh. I see, uh… we have many places that can be private here–”

“Can we speak in my room? Or yours?”

He automatically wiggled his eyebrows and readily agreed, “Yes, of course. Your rooms are closer, will that do?”

She nodded and led him there, expecting him to follow on her heels –which he did. It was only a few twists to get there, where he was glad to see the guard stationed and alert. There had been no more incidents since the dead body in the closet. No clues about who was behind it either, granted….

He shut the door behind them and tried to subtly glance around the room again. It was interesting to see her living quarters. He suspected she would want to keep her own rooms when they married, which was all right with him, even if he thought it was a little romantic when a couple chose to share a chamber. But it could be nice to each have their own space, too. Probably it would help her not get sick of him, and he wasn’t sure he could tolerate living with someone either, to be honest. He couldn’t quite picture Nasimiyu happy among his animals yet, but maybe she would surprise him!

He recognized his nervous distracted thinking for what it was. It wasn’t possible for him not to jump to the conclusion: she has fallen in love with Namjoon and is going to tell me. Everything was just too perfectly aligned with Delphine, he saw that now, even with how great the day was going and how blind-sided he was going to be at the words. He’d never forget how unapologetic Delphine had been and he’d realized in that moment she had only ever been play-acting at love with him. She must not have realized the words of love he’d sent her had been real. He’d wrung himself dry, making himself so vulnerable like that on paper, taking his feelings so seriously, but he had thought that was the road to a happy marriage and he had wanted one of those so badly. At least Nasimiyu wasn’t the sort to want that kind of romance. The two letters he had sent during their arrangement had both been answered painfully crisply.

Belatedly he realized she was talking, when she asked, “Do you hear what I’m saying?!”

“I… no,” he admitted because her face was upset enough that it would be folly to pretend. “Sorry, I was distracted by… say it again?”

“Seokjin!”

“I’m sorry. I’m listening, please say it again.”

“Lord Namjoon had sex with my maid.”

“Uh… what?” Seokjin was sure he had phased out and misheard. Maybe he’d let himself get too hungry and fainted and hit his head and his mind had decided to summon something from the drawer of my worst fears. For several heartbeats, Seokjin lived in the reality that Namjoon had done it again, taken his fiance once again.

“Seokjin! Don’t you care at all?”

“Not you,” he clarified, realizing his own confusion. Dulce wasn’t his fiance, Nasimiyu was. Namjoon hadn’t taken his fiance! He’d fucked Nasimiyu’s maid.

Of all the questions bubbling up in Seokjin’s mind, the one that eked out was, “Is Dulce all right?!”

Instantly Nasimiyu’s eyes narrowed as she demanded, “I didn’t say which one! Did you already know?”

“What? No! She’s… your favorite and you seem upset, so I assumed it’s your favorite one.” Also she’s the only one I know by name, he thought. And obviously it had to be Dulce. Of course it had to be Dulce because–

No. Did Namjoon go after her on purpose? He must have. He must have noticed she spent time in the kitchen with Seokjin and his almost-friends. Namjoon didn’t want to be as obvious as last time so instead he’d gone after Dulce instead of Nasimiyu. It’s like Namjoon lived to hurt him, like he woke up every morning and thought how can I ruin Seokjin’s life today? Anything Seokjin had, Namjoon wanted!

Not that Dulce was a thing. Or Seokjin’s! But why else would Namjoon go after her? What did Dulce have to do with Namjoon? Dulce wasn’t fond of Namjoon. She was just a maid, and no social-climber, and he’d never seen her seem the least bit interested in that wind bag.

The dread that ran through Seokjin’s veins was unlike anything he’d ever felt. Worse than when Delphine left him. Worse than when Seok-ho died. Maybe on par with when his mother died? Was that crazy?

“He… attacked her?” He couldn’t bring himself to even say the word ‘rape’ and fumbled it. He would kill him. Namjoon would die if he assaulted Dulce, there was nothing else to be done, there would be no trial or begging, he would die by Seokjin’s hand. Today. It was the first time Seokjin had seen a death so clearly justified.

Nasimiyu let out a noisy sigh through her nose and huffed, “Apparently not, but that doesn’t make it right! He’s a noble! She’s a maid. The power isn’t–”

“She wanted him?” Seokjin asked. Belatedly he realized he sounded just as angry because he was already on the path of righteousness and this was another bomb Nasimiyu had lobbed at him.

“It doesn’t matter! Even if she threw herself at him, that’s a member of my household and he had no right to take his pleasure with her,” Nasimiyu shouted. “But did she even feel like she could say no? He’s your cousin!”

“Barely. He’s very distant,” Seokjin immediately corrected. He wanted to believe Dulce had not been assaulted, that Namjoon would never stoop to such depravity. He also recoiled from what that meant: that Dulce had chosen to have sex with Namjoon. 

“It’s not all right. He can’t go around preying on maids. He’s misbehaving and taking advantage of his position and–”

“Yes,” Seokjin nodded. All the things she was saying were true. 

“It was after we left the masquerade,” Nasimiyu said. “He took her in the garden. People saw! She deserves better than that.”

Seokjin felt like his skin was on fire. Dulce deserved so much more than that! That Namjoon would not only seduce Dulce but in such an exploitative way was beyond what he could stand. He’d always known Namjoon was greedy and selfish but Nasimiyu was right, he knew that the Princess’ favorite maid was off limits.

But Seokjin didn’t think this was about Nasimiyu. No, this was about him. Namjoon had noticed the attention Seokjin gave Dulce. Maybe Namjoon had decided that Seokjin must feel a special way about Dulce, and this was his way of making a point. Of attacking indirectly. Maybe Namjoon was in love with Nasimiyu and jealous or maybe he just wanted to make assumptions and cause trouble for Seokjin, and he was using Dulce as a pawn. She didn’t deserve that. Had he even been good to her? Had he lied about his intentions? Had he misled her? Was she putting on a brave face every time he’d seen her since the masquerade?

Of course Namjoon had wanted her. She was radiant that night. But Seokjin couldn’t accept that Dulce would actually want Namjoon. It wasn’t possible. This was all a master plan by Namjoon to ruin everything again.

“I’ll handle this,” Seokjin said, already turning to go.

“What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know yet,” Seokjin admitted. “But I’ll make this right. You and your staff are safe here and if he wants to play that game…”

“What game?” Nasimiyu asked after him but he’d already pushed open her door, riding the churning wave of his feelings. 

Namjoon and Dulce. In the garden. After the ball. She’d looked like that.

And then she had gone to Yoongi. And Yoongi thought she was off and had offered her a place to spend the night, which she had taken him up on. She didn’t want to be in that dress any longer. And she couldn’t go to her lady for help because Seokjin was with her.

Maybe Namjoon hadn’t known who she was or maybe he’d known exactly. It didn’t matter. He’d fucked up and Seokjin was going to tell him so! For the first time in his life Seokjin welcomed the promise of confrontation.

It was easy to find him. He was still in the same courtyard, talking to the same men, probably about the same thing because Namjoon didn’t know when enough was enough. Like those long letters he sent Seokjin’s father. Like the flattery that had won Delphine’s heart. Maybe like a maid out of her usual role telling him no. Namjoon looked up at Seokjin’s approach. He even extricated himself from the conversation, taking a step towards Seokjin like he wanted to speak with him as well.

Seokjin didn’t need Namjoon to try and spin some web of lies about how this was different or he hadn’t known who she was or even if it was true that she had knowingly and willingly and genuinely wanted it. Seokjin would have put on a brave face and supported Dulce with Yoongi even though he wasn’t sure about it, but he would never support Namjoon.

So as Namjoon opened his mouth to lie, Seojin threw the first punch. It caught him square in the jaw and sent him stumbling to the side.

“What the–”

Seokjin swung again but Namjoon ducked this time and tried to grab Seokjin’s arm. It would take more than that to stop him though. Seokjin kneed him in the stomach, wrenched his arm free, and jabbed with his left, though Namjoon deflected it so it just barely scraped his head.

“What are you doing?!” Namjoon demanded.

“You think everything is just yours, huh?” Seokjin asked. “You think you can just have anyone?”

“What?!”

He shouldn’t have frozen like that; Seokjin got him right in the mouth. At another time, Namjoon’s lack of fight might have made Seokjin pause, but he was someone else right now. He didn’t recognize himself but he didn’t care, didn’t bother to question what was happening right now because it felt right and good. It was all he could do for Dulce, who hadn’t done anything but try to make a living in his palace. She ought to have been safe here from predators like Namjoon taking advantage of a pretty face and a power disparity!

This time Namjoon did punch back, a cross that caught Seokjin in the cheek because he tried to duck but not quickly enough. Seokjin wasn’t really a boxer, Namjoon would have him beat there, so as soon as Namjoon got into position, Seokjin kicked instead and then threw himself at Namjoon to try and wrestle him into a place he could… do something. Punch him more. He wasn’t a fighter, had never really brawled, and wasn’t sure what was the end goal here but it felt good to let his body do the deciding, just like it did during sparring but with justice behind each move now.

“Stop!” Namjoon bellowed. Seokjin was thrilled to discover that Namjoon kept underestimating him. Namjoon might have bulk and weight on him, but Seokjin was deceptively fast and strong and he got a good uppercut in as Namjoon failed to push him away. In the next moment, Namjoon pulled him close and tried to wrap him in a bear hug, which was both infuriating and embarrassing, so Seokjin fought harder to break free, leaving himself vulnerable to Namjoon’s fists in his belly. He couldn’t get momentum, but his brute strength was still annoyingly impressive for a scholar.

Seokjin didn’t know anything that was happening around them, everything was just a blur in the background as he and Namjoon brawled –falling to the ground one second, back to their feet the next. They stopped getting any good punches but it gave Seokjin space to order,

“Keep your hands off her. Keep your hands off every woman in this city!”

“What?!”

“Your force yourself on–”

“I didn’t force myself on anyone!” Namjoon bellowed, his words impossibly loud. “What are you talking about?!”

Seokjin managed to kick him away and panted, “You’re a noble. She’s a maid. Does that seem equal to you?”

Understanding flickered across Namjoon’s sweaty, bloody face as he gasped out, “You’re insane. I do think she’s my equal. I didn’t do anything she didn’t want to do. I don’t even know how you found out–” He broke off as Seokjin launched at him again. He didn’t want to hear these excuses. My name is Namjoon and I ignore real world power dynamics because they don’t exist in my head.

“She’s not yours!”

“So what, she’s yours?”

“NO!” Seokjin shouted and took an elbow in his mouth that left him sputtering. “She–”

“ENOUGH.” The low voice echoed off the arches and columns, followed by a sword sliding between them so quickly that Seokjin and Namjoon barely had time to leap apart. Seokjin turned to the intruder with alarm that was not lessened to see his Uncle Dong-suk. It didn’t matter that the man was family, the sight of him sent a shiver down Seokjin’s spine and across his skin. The fight left him in an instant as he felt the stinging echo of a switch on his back and on his hands, that heavy fist against his ear –never uncontrolled violence, but terrifying in its discipline. He’d struggled more with the immediate obedience his uncle expected than Seok-ho did and he had worked hard to paper over those lingering fears because he wasn’t a child anymore and his uncle did not have the upper hand here.

“What is this…” His uncle’s lip curled in disgust as he searched for a word that wouldn’t come.

Namjoon cleared his throat and swallowed but said nothing. He might not have the firsthand experience of this man’s harshness but Commander Dong-suk’s reputation preceded him. He glanced at Seokjin, as if prodding him that it was his job to respond.

“A drinking game, Sir,” Seokjin answered. “Deciding who buys the drinks later.”

Curse his tone. His uncle’s eyes narrowed. It must sound like a joke. Seokjin hadn’t meant it as a joke, he just was not willing to tell the truth. On one hand, maybe it was what Namjoon deserved, but in the face of it, Seokjin couldn’t bring himself to sacrifice him without further discussion. Or, more likely, Dong-suk would not give a shit about the maid in question. 

Uncle Dong-suk looked between them again with that impenetrable scowl, then turned and strode off like he owned the palace and everyone in it. Not a further word, like Seokjin’s response was so asinine he to walk away so as not to strike them down.

The breath rushed from Seokjin’s chest in the moment before Namjoon grabbed his sleeve and demanded in a hissed whisper, “What the fuck is going on?”

“You know what’s going on. You seduced someone you shouldn’t have seduced.”

Namjoon looked hopelessly confused and demanded, “Why not? Do you own her?”

“No, but she’s a maid–”

“And? Perfectly capable of deciding whether she wants to fuck or not, and she did. Not that it’s any of your business, but it was perfectly consensual so what are you– what even was that–? Are you sure this is about a maid?”

“Yeah, keep your fucking hands off Dulce!” He didn’t mean to shout it. The adrenaline was still pumping but the fear and dread were making him sick rolling around together in his stomach and he didn’t like the insinuation that this fight was about anything else. What, like Namjoon stealing his first fiance and then not even having the decency to go through with the wedding? To deny her stolen love to her own face? That Namjoon was unabashedly in pursuit of this throne he had no claim on, and willing to lick King Dong-gun’s boots to get there? Or just fury at that smug face and how everything seemed to come so fucking easy for this man who defined his own expectations and did whatever he wanted and suffered no consequences for it ever?

Namjoon gestured with his hand and scoffed, “Do you want to fucking ask her yourself if she enjoyed herself?” 

Seokjin spun and realized the courtyard was not in fact empty. Not crowded, but there were the three Therepin men, and two maids, and a groundskeeper, and Dulce standing next to Taehyung.

“Taehyung, what are you doing here?” Seokjin demanded, voice cracking. He blinked so hard his eyes hurt, hoping that Dulce would suddenly not be there and it was just another lie drawn up by Namjoon. 

“Sorry, was I supposed to jump in?” Taehyung asked.

Namjoon called around the place, “Nothing to see here, move along. Like the Prince said, just a game to decide who buys drinks later. You know how it is. Boys will be boys or whatever…” He trailed off, voice dropping at the sound of pounding footsteps. Jimin and Jungkook burst into the courtyard and ran straight for him.

“Where’s Edmund?” Jungkook demanded, noticing the lack of bodyguard immediately. Seokjin hadn’t been thinking about it at all and realized he did not, in fact, remember the last time he had seen Edmund. He tried not to pay too much attention to the bodyguards, or at least in this instance had been distracted. Probably Edmund had disappeared when Nasimiyu pulled him into her room… no, he’d been gone longer than that…

Namjoon took a step back as Jimin bodied himself in between them and took Seokjin’s arm, suggesting, “Come, let’s clean you up for supper.”

“This isn’t finished,” Namjoon said. “You’re accusing me of terrible things that I didn’t do. Again.”

“Yeah, well–”

“Right this way,” Jimin insisted, pulling Seokjin’s arm. Hoseok sprinted through the arch now too, and Lady Zselyke behind him, and Seokjin realized this was likely the head of a flood of people come to see why the fuck the crown prince had been brawling in the courtyard like a drunk adolescent.

Hoseok bodied Namjoon along, and Seokjin let himself be dragged to his room, spent and confused and worried and ashamed and not fully understanding any of it except that he was very tired suddenly. Fighting was hard, that’s all, but he’d been right to do it. He had! 

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