#i cannot emphasize enough that she usually Does Not Talk Like That

[bearinabandana]

Yesterday my mom came to my door with a little box in her hand and said "Do you have a problem with dry skin? This body moisturizer can help, it's very good, I have this extra one sealed for you if you want!" Like some sort of personification of an ad

[shores-of-oblivion]

Right off the bat, I absolutely adore Signalis. It's beautiful and terrifying and heartbreaking and one of the best pieces of art I've experienced in a long time. It does everything right to me. I cannot emphasize enough how much I think everyone should play this game, even if horror isn't your usual thing.

While I am tempted to talk about every aspect of the game, how I interpret the story and the characters in it, the cosmic horror elements and all the dreams, there's so much to go through that I'd be writing this for ages, and I wouldn't really be getting at what mattered to me.

What matters, what's truly important, is the love between Elster and Ariane. Everything that happens, every terror you fight, every nightmare you willingly descend into, it's all so Elster can keep her promise. It's all so she can find Ariane. That's all that matters. It doesn't matter if reality is turning in on itself or if it's all a dream. What matters is the love.

Maybe Elster has died countless times only to reawaken and try again, or maybe it's multiple Elsters all descending into the facility, picking up where the last one left off. Maybe there is something buried beneath Leng that is corrupting the Replikas and whispering to Ariane. Maybe the King In Yellow has some hand in it, or maybe he's just part of the dream too.

The horror unfolding on Leng, Adlers and Falkes story, the flesh beneath the earth, it's all wonderful stuff and adds so much to the game and it's atmosphere. But after a point it just became more of the eldritch horror that I wasn't meant to understand.

I wanted to write about this game since beating it. I thought I could do an in depth analysis or some sort of deep dive into an aspect of it, but I don't think I care to anymore. Signalis made me feel, like truly fucking *feel* something in a way that art rarely does, and that's so much more important to me. If you haven't yet, go give it a shot. I can't promise it'll be your thing but it would be silly of me not to recommend it after crying about for days.

I wasn't sure where else to put this, but having lost a close friend to cancer, some parts of this game hit like a god damn truck.

[sirenjose]

Melly Backstory Analysis

Melly started out as a “commoner” according to her social status, as well as the talk about Melly’s home village in her 1st letter and the lack of money her family has. It is because of this need that her parents placed “such pressure” on her and called her an “old maiden”.

Calling someone an “old maiden” basically means Melly’s parents were commenting about her not having a husband. At least today, it’s usually derogatory (especially in a way as if they don’t think the person will ever get married).

Her parents though seem a bit… out of touch with Melly. They comment “but I cannot remember a single time anything ever caused you to become upset, ever since you were a child” while the villagers apparently better knew Melly, which was she was unhappy about what they were doing (the pressure and “old maiden” comment). If she’s been like this since she was a child, it seems there’s a good chance this is how they’ve always acted with her. This may mean her parents may have been fairly strict with Melly as she was growing up, not understanding her own interests and likes, prioritizing themselves, and at least not spending enough time asking or thinking about how she may feel or what she may want or think.

This is further emphasized with how they say “we just hope that you can marry well”. Their focus is having enough money and making sure Melly gets married. They don’t seem to have even asked her input on this, or even if they did, probably not in a super understanding way. There really isn’t any mention of what Melly may want. It seems she has to do whatever her parents ask or want of her.

So off Melly goes and becomes a maid at a manor. Once again we see further emphasis on how her parents are with how their first line in the letter is “Your father and I have been waiting anxiously for whatever you can spare this month”. This is before they ask for a word from her or to hear how she is. It shows what their priorities are.

I do wonder about “you can also send along a word or two as you did before”. She at least wrote back about going to marry the lord, but how often does she write otherwise? Makes me wonder if that’s how it’s usually been, even when she was growing up. She must’ve been a fairly quiet, lonely child, unless she spent most of her time away from her parents with the other villagers or outside of their home, which still implies stuff about her.

In any case, she tells her parents that she’s going to marry the lord of the manor (I wonder if this was the 1st time she’d spoken to them in awhile? If she doesn’t talk or write to them much I mean). Her parents, who did want her to marry well, were still shocked after hearing them. So it seems they didn’t expect her to marry *that* well. I doubt that means they didn’t have faith in her to do that well, but the thought did cross my mind anyways.

Melly says she’s been researching insects to have something to talk to him about. We know from Melly’s brief story in the first part of Ashes of Memory Episode 2 that her husband was a “renowned biologist” himself. So in that way, it makes sense for Melly to study insects to be able to have something to talk to him about and get closer to him. The fact her parents don’t understand how this should help shows the didn’t know anything about the lord of the manor Melly works under, even though “the other girls” from the village are implied to go work at the manor as well. Her parents did say they have “never set foot out side the village”, which sort of like with Melly kind of shows how they’re primarily focused on themselves, doing what they need to, and just keeping doing whatever works.

1 thought I had is, maybe Melly was already semi interested in insects before now, but even if she wasn’t, it was during this time when she really started wanting to be an entomologist. Having to study to be able to talk to the lord of the manor about something he also studied, as well as her conversations with him about the subject, probably helped grow this desire over time. It may have been because of this Melly finally discovered something that she enjoyed doing, not just something she had to do for her parents.

So much so she continued researching it even after her husband’s death.

Once again we see more of her parents’ personality when they talk about a good woman being 1 who does all the housework, manages the manor, and is from a good family. They want her to focus on her work, not on what they see is a risk to her losing her job.

To them, they just want Melly to keep doing her job, don’t step out of line, and don’t do anything that she isn’t told to do. I wonder, could we say Melly’s parents are the type who believe in “following the crowd” and “jumping on the bandwagon”? Doing what others are doing, not really trying something different or taking risks. Melly on the other hand seems the opposite. She wants to do her own thing, she wants more freedom, wants to follow her interests if she can, even if that means taking a risk.

Her parents seem to confirm this when they say they are “afraid that if you aim too high, we won't be able to catch you when you fall”. Though earlier before this they did also say they “do not have much to offer you”, which to me feels like they rely pretty heavily on Melly to do stuff for them.

I do still think they do love Melly, as they do say “we hope you can live the best life you can” and to not “sacrifice yourself for the sake of marriage”, but like I said earlier, they seem a bit out of touch with Melly’s interests and also want to play it safe.

It’s from here we get into Melly’s deductions. She does eventually marry the lord of the manor, who we learn is named Joshua Plinius, but it doesn’t remain a happy marriage. We know it ends with his death due to a rare but deadly species of bees.

Before then, we see her deductions mention “sleeping pills” (though we don’t know for sure who they were for. Melly is highly likely, if she wanted it to help her sleep if she was having an unhappy time with him, or maybe she wanted to sleep as a way to avoid him, or it’s possible she used it on him, if not the other way around), Joshua complains of her being “stuck in her own ways” (considering the title of this deduction mentions ���individuality”, he may literally mean in her ways, as in her trying to do what she wants then let him tell her what to do, potentially if she wanted him to see her as an equal rather than beneath him. Maybe that’s also why she studied insects. To potentially prove herself, or maybe as she was studying and talking with him, she got the idea of trying to be his equal or just as good as him and have him acknowledge that), they get divorced, she’s seemingly invited to be a teacher, then we get into the lead up to her husband’s death.

Based on her thinking “How will I face the rest of my years with so much missing in my life?”, it seems to be Melly was tired of not being able to do more of what she wanted, of being restricted by those around her, and of being restricted. It’s soon after this she’s mentioned surrounded by bees (which could tie to the 1 that killed her husband) and then her stating “I know what will grant me eternal joy within my mind”. This, combined with her last deduction, should mean she likely made up her mind to kill her husband.

She did say her husband was “extremely meticulous” to his research and even “toward people”. If he showed a lot of attention to details, that could imply he was very particular about various aspects about Melly. He may have been demanding about the things he didn’t like, which potentially eventually wore Melly down until she felt she had to do something.

It is never explicitly stated that she killed him, but this seems the most likely option. Melly says she came her to find out about the bee that killed her husband, as the manor delivered to her a bee specimen that matched with the 1 that killed him. She says she came here to play the game in exchange for the manor owner giving info about that bee species and what caused her husband’s death. But it’s also possible that may not be entirely true.

She said her husband was “meticulous” and ergo that means being very careful. Maybe he was the type not willing to research something so risky or dangerous. Or maybe she in general researched stuff he wasn’t comfortable with, which then irritated him as we see in his deductions, but she refused to stop.

If we go with the idea she caused her husband’s death, and thus she’s the 1 who used the bee on him, rather than to learn about the bee and how her husband died, which she already knows, maybe she came because the manor knowing about that rare bee species implies someone else may have known what she did.

In Orfeo, Melly will leave if she learns you’re a detective or likes to reveal the truth of cold cases. She doesn’t want people to learn she murdered her husband. So, she’s coming to find out who knows and potentially silence them, or to do something for that person in order to guarantee that person won’t reveal what she did to the police.

Melly’s newest B-tier has the description: “With each passing day, the face beneath the veil became more and more unfamiliar, even to herself”. I don’t think she wants people to learn what she did, but I also think Melly is guilty to some degree about killing her husband.

She did start out as a poor but normal village girl, before becoming a maid and then wife of the manor owner. Her parents weren’t very understanding of her and were likely fairly restrictive. She couldn’t show if she was upset or unhappy, she just did whatever her parents wanted her to do. But based on her interest in entomology, I think to some extent she would’ve been happy as a regular villager. Which I think is reflected partially by how she hides her face. She doesn’t care if people think she’s beautiful. She just wants to focus on her research (which I think also partially developed due to growing up as a quiet, fairly lonely child due to who her parents were, so in a sense she’s also always been alone and this is just what she’s always known. That but it’s also likely she’s just the type to prefer the quiet and away from crowds.

Like Norton, I think she was mainly only interested in ensuring she had enough to provide for herself, but after that, she didn’t care about moving up to be the lady of a manor. What she’s wanted even more was freedom to do what she wanted and to follow her own interests and dreams (which is also funny as how that is just like Norton too, who we know only became a miner because his father was one. But similar to Melly, at least he did have an interest in precious ores and metals, which he has a chance to pursue as a “prospector” rather than “miner”, though that was only at the end after everything else). But she’s never been able to do so, first because of her parents, and then because of her husband. Like with Norton, she’s eventually worn down until she stops and thinks about how she’ll be able to live with herself after having missed out on so much and doing so little of what she’s always wanted to do. Everyone wants something from her, but she can never want something herself. Even when she’s finally found something she enjoys, entomology, her husband continues to not want her to have and individuality or restricts what she can do. Eventually she reaches her breaking point, when she decides to go through with a plan to kill her husband and achieve the freedom she’s always wanted.

But she’s very different from who she used to be. She’s no longer just a simple village girl. She’s also lost her innocence now that she’s killed her husband, even if it was because she felt she had no choice. She’s gained her freedom (both from her parents via the money by marrying her husband, and from her husband by killing him), but is she completely happy with herself?

I think like Norton, where he says “they were just unlucky” in his last deduction, in a way she may be trying to justify her actions to herself to help her deal.

As we see with her recent B-tier “Everyday Life”, she sees to hint towards this idea, considering she Is finding it hard to recognize herself, after how much she’s changed, both for good and bad. I wonder if another part of the reason she hides her face is because she’s not happy with who she sees in the mirror? She did want freedom from her husband and parents, so even if she doesn’t regret killing him, I do think she may have preferred it happen a different way. Like if they’d just given her some control, some ability to be an individual. But this isn’t a perfect world and people don’t always get what they want, just like Norton didn’t find gold even after going through 13 different mines.

As I said before, maybe it’s just me, but it feels like Norton and Melly have several similarities. Both didn’t have a choice with the life or environment they got, where they ended up, or what they had to do. In a way, it is both their parents faults for this happening. Then over time, they become so desperate they did something they maybe regret. In some part of their mind, they acknowledge what they did and that it was wrong, which is why we see both of them trying to justify their actions, which implies they both feel some amount of guilt, especially with Melly avoiding people and Norton avoiding the mine and being a miner completely (and both don’t want to talk to detectives).

If Melly has some feelings of guilt, I wonder if for now she’s trying to cope by avoiding thinking about it. Such as by immersing herself in her work, to give herself no time to think, and going out into nature, versus being in the manor where her husband died or even around people. Then there’s the veil she wears, which both may serve as a way to hide from people as well as herself and the person she sees in the mirror.

[charmixpower]

For the bingo ship, Flora x Riven or Stella x Bloom, please

Rewriting this, wah!

It's a story as old as time, local mom friend who needs to learn to be more selfish and ex badboy who needs to learn to emphasize more start dating and balance each other out

This ship is stupid fucking adorable and I love it and the main reason I wanna make Riven and Flora besties just

Flora to Riven: have to considered looking at it like this?

Later, Riven to Flora: You know you should do more stuff for yourself

I just–super cute, I love I love

I even love the primary conflict they'd have in their relationship

Flora feels insecure because Riven can't say I love you. Just yesss

Riven genuinely cannot express this (Ive met people who can't say I love you because they were always met negatively when they said it) and Flora just feels BAD because she knows it isn't his fault but she still feels super insecure and doesn't know if he loves her

Riven feels horrible because since he can't tell her he loves her without a panic attack coming on she's upset and he just feels so bad

They'd work through it, find a way to communicate this without having to outright say it (which is the workaround I've found with my friends who struggle with this) but it would be such a good nobody's at fault conflict that shows with dealing and overcoming both of their own personal struggles!!

I love to imagine Musa and Helia help them both with this, sussssh it's so cute

S2 Floriv would be everything. Riven trying his best to work on himself without any outside help, Flora feeling useless because he won't let her help, Riven telling her that he wants to be good person in his own right without requiring someone else, Flora turning into a puddle of goo

Like ough

They wouldn't have the benefit of being knowledgeable about each other's specific trauma effects each other without a lot of conversations and work (hence the I love you problem in the first place) but I totally feel like they'd be able to work past it

Riven would SO being back Flora weird plants he sees on Missions and Flora would be so fucking delighted

Flora would make stuff for Riven (like a candle) and he would be like "ah, this is love"

Riven love survivalist shit and Flora is the fairy of nature they could talk for hours but Riven prefers just listing

Fuckin Flora and Riven ships of all time

Plus it would be cute to see Flora get a little grumpy with him when he teases her. I have not seen enough playful arguing from Flora and I need more of it. She absolutely watches him make a dumbass of himself (like she did to Tecna in s1) for funzies as revenge

Kinda obsessed you know how it be

Okay I'm making a little time line

Floriv shippers get your fucking JUICE, this is gonna be long

S1:

No romantic connection, but Flora notices that Riven seems very off after dating Darcy though everyone thinks he's being his usual dick self. Flora tells him at some point that she doesn't know what's going on but she'll be here for him because no one deserves to be alone.

Riven jumps off of CT and gets back up despite his injuries because he hopes there's one person who'd be sad if he died. Flora heals him and they are now friends

S2:

Riven is nursing one hellva crush on Flora but keeps it to himself because of his low self esteem and because he isn't ready for a relationship so soon after Darcy. Flora and Riven hang out a lot as friends.

Flora doesn't blame Riven for being lied to and Riven appreciates how she's patient with him and he does as much as he can to show this. Riven hangs out a lot with the new girl who reminds Flora a bit of Riven in s1, with her hyper independent attitude and she's so proud to see Riven attempting to give her advice based on his history. After the Trix show back up he hangs around much more out of paranoia and struggles to communicate this (though Musa seems to understand immediately, something that makes Flora feel a little jealous but she doesn't know why yet).

Riven immediately bonds with Flora's pixie Chatta and she gets to see a bit of his old self in a new positive way with him talking excitedly and openly with Chatta, showing a lot more energy that he usually does becoming a lot more subdued after Darcy. Flora adores her pixie for making Riven more lively. Flora meets Helia, Riven's new friend who just decided they were friends and drags him around now and thinks he's quite silly and befriends him as well. He asks her out but she declines and he asks her if theres someone else and shes like "what noooo" and he's like "sure lol".

Turns out Riven loves adorable things and really adores the pixies so she introduces him to all of the other pixies and he's like =D and Flora thinks its super cute and OH. That's why she's been feeling like that, huh. Flora is now extremely distracted with her new crush, daydreaming about Riven dating her and saying that he'll do anything for her and stuff which isn't far off, and Aisha notices and IMMEDIATELY goes to bother Riven about it who's all depressed about his crush because he has low self esteem and Aisha gets sick of the "I don't deserve someone like her" narrative like three minutes after she first hears it. She tells Riven to man up and Riven continues being a depressed onion.

Helia comes around and mentions to Flora that Riven really talks her up often and encourages him to ask her out before learning that she previously rejected him and makes Flora feel like 17 different emotions. Aisha and Musa become friends, Aisha realizes that Musa has a lot of things in common with Riven and starts slightly bugging her about what she thinks he's going on about to help Flora. Musa is completely shameless in her match making attempts and Flora is like hhhhhh. Flora is encouraged to ask Riven out but Flora says that Riven is still in a delicate place due to Darcy and she's right so Musa and Aisha drop it.

When Flora meets Diaspro she's more upset at her upbringing than she is in canon, focusing on that instead of telling Diaspro to be better for her people, due to Riven's influence, she tells Diaspro to become better for herself and that she should be free. I firmly believe that Riven should of been allowed to save the CT witches and so he does in my Canon, and the witches are super thankful because I like watching Riven squirm under the attention he's literally always wanted.

Anyways twinning with the witches is mostly witch girlies teasing Flora about Riven and Flora going "noooo, he's not even looking for a relationship" and them "if you don't date him I will". I think Riven being super popular in CT and disliked at the other schools is very funny, sue me. Flora still let's Aisha take the lead and struggles to share her own input or tell the witch girlies she'd like to be left alone, leading Aisha to go off on her own without Flora. Flora ends up in the heart of CT and nearly gets ambushed by the Trix but is saved by Griffin, who makes it known that she assumed that would happen between her and Aisha and Flora actually snarks at her which is something she hasn't done to someone yet and from not on doesn't like her that much.

Riven fucking hates Avalon because he reminds him of Darcy and now Flora is low key suspicious of him but doesn't saying to Bloom. She tells Tecna and Musa tho, but doesn't tell Aisha in fear of her doing something on her own. They go to the Wildlands, the Trix show up, and Riven immediately goes to Flora for help once he senses them. Flora is EXTREMELY confused because she can't transform or use much magic and Riven is like "can you still hear the voice of nature" "yes but-" "what is the problem" and Flora is VERY confused at how she and Timmy ended up leading the fight back against the Trix.

She ends up getting her Charmix after getting confident in herself and her own plans after getting in a disagreement with one of the others and sticking to her guns. She is so excited!! Floriv survivalist otp for the entire arc I am just saying.

She confidently heals the Flower of Life after getting her Charmix and she's like "wowowow, I love trusting myself" and Riven is like quietly clapping in the background because he doesn't want to distract her.

Flora cringes at the fact that Riven was super right about hating Avalon, and is now planning on taking his "this person sets off my paranoia so much" comments much more seriously.

Flora is nervous to save Bloom, Riven is like "girlie (affectionate) you helped save Alfea, your probably one of the most powerful Charmix faries to ever live, you got this" but in a much more aggressive Riven-y way and Flora is like ❤️. They hug before going to fight Darkar, all of their friends BEGGING them to talk about their feelings but no 💕💕💕💕. They will not.

Flora offers to hold back Darkar on her own while Musa prepares a powerful attack, Musa agrees, Flora draws Darkars agro and Riven does the thing™. Musa gets the attack in stunning Darkar for a moment so she can try and take the spell he put on everyone off, while Flora IS FREAKING THE FUCK OUT. Riven confesses at the worst fuckin moment because he's Riven and Flora is like "love you too BUT YOU ARE DYING".

They win, happily ever after.

S3:

Riven seeing Flora when he comes to the beach: I did the summer program at RF again, heres a pretty plant for u 💕💕 I saw it during a mission and brought it back

Flora, who has like 13 of those: Awe your so sweet

Riven hears Flora talk about Chimera and Cassandra and is like "paranoia says shes bad" and 12 seconds later guess what happens? Chatta nearly thinks its funny but gets the disapproving mom stare. Tho he also mentions that Chimera is too young to know better and that they should try reaching out to her because of this is how her mom reacts when given power over Stella and Radius, imagine how she acts to Chimera who she's always had power over. Flora is like "did not think about that, will do".

Riven watching Flora help spell Brandon to see Stella's inner self: I do NOT approve of spelling people without there consent, and will not be a part of this

Riven, Nova, and Chatta form a gossip squad. Flora tries to laugh too hard.

Diaspro says no to Valtor, choosing to be happy without anyone else, Valtor does NOT take kindly then re offers to Samara and Erendor after putting Diaspro under his then their control.

Riven hears about Valtor's past and has a mini Darcy spiral out of fear, and Flora calms him down.

Drugged Sky: I love Diaspro

Drugged Diaspro: I love Sky

Riven, who's been under emotion control spells before: THAT'S SUSPICIOUS, THAT'S WEIRD

Bloom is all upset while Riven is FREAKING THE FUCK OUT. Riven is like "those two are under so much mind control Aisha DO SOMETHING" and everyone agrees to immediately do something (because they all have 0 impulse control) and Flora is like "Samara is a guardian fairy. I wanna save Sky too but... we're just not strong enough rn" and they're all sad but agree. Yes Samara is a guardian fairy, I need her to be powerful enough to make the Sky situation not be solved instantly.

Stella gets her Enchantix by saving Chimera who she's been trying to reach out too, Chimera immediately starts sobbing and saying she doesn't want to go back to Cassandra but also can't leave and asks Stella to come back and save her and Stella agrees.

Flora and Tree Faragona: *having a intense conversation*

Everyone else: 🧍

Riven after seeing Floras Enchantix: you got really hurt ;-;

Flora: NOW YOU KNOW HOW I FELT WHEN YOU FUCKING DIED FOR ME

Riven: irrelevant

Flora: NO!! IT'S NOT

Tecna's gone and BOY HOWDY IS NO ONE TAKING IT WELL. Riven trusts Timmy about Tecna more this time around.

Everyone wants to go kill Valtor and Flora talks them down, instead, now that they have Four Enchantix Faries they can take down Samara and Cassandra who have been using their royal powers to help Valtor, and then go off to take they're rage out on Samara in a STUPIDLY hard fight (because fighting gravity will always suck) where they barely win.

Bloom goes to pyros, and Cassandra puts Solaria on fucking lockdown because Samara got her ass whooped as a guardian fairy and Cassandra is a Charmix fairy....yeah she knows she's done for as soon as the Winx get their hands on her.

Riven is able to help Timmy a little more than before because a certain nature fairy taught him some meditation techniques he passes on to Timmy. Also he helps Sky get therepy because being under mind control spells suck a lot and Riven is helping him all he can, Flora is sooo proud.

The boys do not go to Omega, only magic users can't immediately fucking turn to ice when standing on Omega. They're forced to stay home. They do see Bloom, who's SUPER happy to see that Sky again and tells them all about her Enchantix and Riven is like "as someone with an anger problem, I think you have an anger problem" and Bloom is like "no".

Flora: then this weird guy Ophir showed up who was watching us and can make copys of himself

Riven: *gasp* DARCY

Flora: no—

The girls make a plan to sneak into Solaria, Riven helping with the sneaking part because he's good at that, Helia and Sky helping with their connections, Brandon helping with the lying part, and Timmy doing tech support. They get in with a fuck ton of glamours from Mirta and the ability to pick locks and lie like their life depends on it. Cassandra gets her ass kicked so hard by Stella and Stella adopts Chimera.

Helia video chatting the girls: 🥰

Riven seeing Ophir: *gasp* DARCY!

Helia: well you were right about Avalon....go crazy

Riven, getting on his bike: I will!!

Riven tries to stab Ophir again and Flora is like "RIVEN HAVE BEEN OVER THIS" and she gets him to calm down, golden kingdom happens and she's very happy to see that he and Ophir have become besties

Bloom trying to kill Valtor and nearly getting herself killed because she hesitated: I should lean more into my anger Issues, not being angry enough is my problem

Riven and Flora: NO!!!

Flora talks to Bloom about her nightmare differently because Riven constantly goes on about how obviously Valtor is lying about Bloom's family and she tells her this because duh.

Bloom: I wanna talk to the ansestal witches

Riven: absolutely, and I cannot stress this enough, the FUCK NOT

Riven: why would the most evil people ever not lie to you???????

Bloom: y'all hear something

The Winx defeat Valtor and Riven is all like "where's the body?" Because he's Riven and everyone tells him to chill but Bloom is like "uh, just checked...." And everyone is like "goddamn it"

Helia get corned by Valtor and is VERY upset atm bc he couldn't do shit and feels like he failed his friends everyone is freaking the fuck out about their bfs. Except Musa who is dating Aisha and Aisha who is dating Musa. Bloom calms tf down for once in her life to eat Valtor's dragon flame, happily ever after.

S4:

This is were the I love you drama happens. They haven't had any real problems and I like interpersonal struggles that are no one is at fault and they both work it out and grow. No I'm not doing all of s4 with them because FUCK season 4 but I'll do a highlight reel

Flora becomes a teaching assistant at Alfea and Riven talks about how Helia and Saladin offered him a job at RF but he's still thinking about it

Bloom wants to see if there's any magic on earth at all so drags the Winx to the tree of life to see and WOULD YOU LOOK AT THAT, A WEIRD AMOUNT OF MAGICAL PEOPLE ALL IN THE SAME PLACE

Flora, who knows exactly what Riven would say: that's suspicious, that's weird

Riven grumps about the glamor and how he looks weird as an earthling and now Flora looks much prettier as herself and then immediately backtracks bc "not that implying that you aren't pretty now, but" and Flora so laughs at him

Riven takes one look at the Believix powers and FREAKS THE FUCK OUT, until it's explained that all they do is help people think more clearly or unrepress their empathy and Riven calms down but asks them to be careful with them

Bloom tries to have Roxy take the white circle (or mind control ring as Riven calls it) Riven throws a chair at her, and Flora actually gets mad at Bloom for suggesting that bc she's seen how mind control has REALLY fucked up Riven and thought that Bloom would understand because she's with Sky but apparently not. Bloom feels horrified she just pissed off group mom

Flora says it like that too, just very disgusted, Bloom has a little crisis and keeps the ring

Riven and Flora adopt Roxy

Roxy brings up that she and Riven are super cute but why do they never say I love you? Anxiety sets in

Riven is suspicious of the Earth faries bc MIND CONTROL DUH, and so is everyone else but they decide they probably did it because they've been trapped so long and are super upset and Riven is like "fair"

Diana kidnaps Riven and now Flora is even more sure that she's gonna 1v1 the bitch

Flora puts off talking to Riven about the thing™

Riven looking at Flora's Lovix: *cant form a coherent sentence*

Flora: 🥰

Flora sees all the trees being cut down and is like "I understand the eco terrorism Diana, me too bestie, but you can't punish everyone! Just the people in charge 🥰🥰"

Flora: hold my flower I have an ass to kick

Riven: kick her ass babe I got your flower

Flora talks to Musa about how she's feeling and Musa says she and Aisha have the same problem but know they care about each other and Riven has a talk with Brandon who says he should show he cares as much as he can and show his love though action

Riven fuckin laughs the back circle out of the frutti music bar and no one believes them. No one. They've delt with Valtor and Darcy and know what a liar FINALLY looks like

Bloom and Tecna fight Nebula, and Bloom feels more bad about the Roxy thing

Flora keeps Roxy as warm as possible

Nabu is alive!!!! And Helia fucking kills Duman instead because Riven got the idea to do shifts lest they get taken as hostages again

The war happens

GOOD BYE ORGON YOU FUCKING PRICK

happily ever after for realzs this time

The end!!!

Yeah I fucking love this ship XD

[jp-cuconyan]

Bocchi the Rock! Ep.1 | Swapping Parts of Her Lunch with the Teacher

Bocchi: The girl who ends up all alone at a picnic, swapping parts of her lunch with the teacher. Bocchi the Rock! Ep.1 | 0:17

This scene is one of the moments in the beginning of Ep. 1 that explains how lonely she was during her childhood before she started learning the guitar.

In Japanese elementary and junior high schools, lunch is usually provided as a school meal, so when it comes to events like this, it is customary for parents to go through the trouble of making special bento boxes.

When it's time for lunch at an event like this, it's customary to sit in a free area within a designated space and have lunch with a small group of close friends, so it's a popular way to enjoy sharing the special lunch with friends, showing each other the contents and exchanging a few bites.

(Due to the Covid-19 pandemic, it may not be necessarily common in recent years to have lunch like this in a picnic, but it has been a longstanding common practice.)

During such fun-filled lunchtime, eating alone with a teacher, without being able to join any group of classmates, is a symbolic representation that strongly conveys the fact of being a friendless child.

Of course, teachers may follow up by talking to the children to ensure that they are not left out of such a group, but children who finally fail to join any groups will eat lunch with their teachers in this way.

A child who has to eat with a teacher like this suffers an intense sense of inferiority because he/she is the only one who cannot join the group while all the other children have friends to eat with, and this is noticeable to the children around them, so that lunch time turns into a painful time of being humiliatingly exposed.

At first glance, this may just seem like a scene where she happens to be having lunch with a teacher because she has few friends, but from a Japanese perspective, it is a brief and powerful scene that shows that she had no friends at all and had experienced this painful loneliness that comes with it.

If you were Japanese and said to a Japanese person, "When I was a child, I had lunch at school picnics with only my teacher," that is symbolic enough to tell that you did not have any close friends at that time.

Bocchi: (The online world is where I belong. Sorta makes me not wanna go back to school…) Ep.1 | 9:01~

This is a scene in a park on the way back from school, where Bocchi tried to gather bandmates by dressing up in a “band girl” style (see my previous post for details) and failed.

This line is, to be precise, monologuing as below:

Only the online world is where I belong. I don't wanna go to school anymore…

She had always felt difficulty in her social skills since she was young, and as a hope to change herself and her world, she diligently practiced guitar for long hours every day for three years.

It must have taken a lot of courage to reveal herself in a way like a last resort that undoubtedly exposed her as a "band girl".

However, she was confronted with no one being interested in her, which must have caused a considerable sense of despair.

As this anime is fundamentally comical, this line in this scene does not strongly emphasize a tragic feeling, but it was a moment that truly conveyed the emptiness realized by a lonely young girl in reality.

It is not always appropriate to think of the “what if” of a story easily, but if she had not met Nijika here, I think it would not have been surprising if Bocchi had become a shut-in from the next day onwards.

[overtake]

how DID you become a max girlie ? ❤️

This accidentally turned very long-winded so it’s going under a read more. TLDR: I consumed all content of Daniel I could get my hands on, which naturally included a ton of Max, and he really struck me as just a weird little guy that I wanted to put in a glass jar and shake around. Related, this tiktok makes my heart burst with fondness and it explains a lot of the “I just want to perform science experiments on him and keep him fed and warm” attitude I have towards him.

It started with the on the sofa videos. He was so funny and lively, and I was extremely confused why everyone made him out to be this soulless robot. He’s clearly very passionate and serious about what matters to him (racing), but he’s just a completely normal, fun guy. Maybe his personality isn’t for everyone - he’s not going to fake nice and he doesn’t have the same universal charisma that someone like Daniel does, but he’s so funny and entertaining in a more subtle way. Daniel constantly talking about how Max is unintentionally funny is exactly it. Max is so himself, unshakeable and matter-of-fact with a little bit of goofiness and inappropriate jokes. Also, the way Max is so unimpressed by fame and celebrity is so refreshing. He doesn’t give a fuck about status, he cares if you’ll listen to his stories about his cats or play iracing with him or indulge his long-winded explanations about every nuance of the car. It’s nice to see how utterly unaffected he is by the fame.

I was already becoming turned around on him around winter-time with all this content, but I didn’t know how I’d feel about him going into a season. I started watching some old races, and he was so much fun to watch. Then I made the potentially poor choice to search “Max Verstappen” on tiktok and oooo boy. I came out of that three hours later in a fog of fondness and that weird kind of protective attraction that first strikes a lesbian’s heart when she’s about to add another little guy to her eclectic collection of celebrity men.

I’m not used to individual sports since I only watch team ones, but I became really obsessed with Max’s drive and determination to win without apology. It’s so much fun - I can’t believe people hate him for Brazil. That shit was both petty and deserved. He has his morals and beliefs and he will stand by them, and he’s not rolling over for his teammate who was happy to screw him over. I wasn’t a Max fan then, but I was so thrown off by the outrage and hatred for him. Even if we didn’t know it was about Monaco, Max takes racing so seriously. I know he wouldn’t fuck around in a race and have had these talks with the team beforehand if it wasn’t for a legitimately founded reason. I think people just want to think the worst of him at all costs.

Then I became extra endeared from his documentary. That man loves racing so much that he puts up with the utter bullshit he has to deal with every race weekend - he seemed so stressed by crowds, extra interviews, etc. He’s not here for that and doesn’t want to put on this show. He just wants to drive. And then at home and with his family, he was so soft and funny. There were so many fun little nuggets of information (Max having a Harley? Okay, slay). Of course, the cat bits were deeply important as well. It’s obvious how much his childhood affected him, even when he usually laughs off what his dad put him through or avoids discussing how he grew up largely without his mom and sister. I found him a really resilient person who became a talented driver and genuinely kind-hearted person in spite of Jos’ shit.

I love that he doesn’t put on an act with the media. I am so sick of the same platitudes, the recycled and sickly sweet and fake ways to talk around shit. I think f1 in general is way better for getting real, raw quotes (I cannot emphasize enough how fucking unbearably boring hockey pressers are. If you get a coach saying a ref did a bad job, he’s getting fined and the whole hockey world will debate it for three days). But Max in particular doesn’t hide his contempt for their bullshit and tells it how it is. It’s so funny to watch him put people in their place.

Also: cat dad. Cat dad. Cat dad!!! Very important quality to me. I know people joke about cat dads being a green flag, but they really are. Max is so sweet with his little demons. He’s also so soft and kind to children, always making time for them (which is bare minimum human decency obviously, but it’s very cute how good he is with them as well. He really engages with them and gets down to their level and understands their boundaries well - like with that girl at silverstone who was very obviously overwhelmed and shy, and he talked with her while very carefully keeping his distance to make sure she was comfortable and felt safe and had a good experience).

In sum: there was no one moment where a light bulb just went on, but he grew on me so much the more I learned about him. It’s so much fun being a Max fan (and I don’t just mean winning, though that’s very fun after being a long-suffering fan of a cruel flop hockey team). The community of Max fans is so much fun, just celebrating all his weirdness and bad habits, and genuinely loving and embracing him for all his track terrorism and obvious hatred of the f1 circus. I’ve never seen so many people talk about wanting to eat a man (his love handles and thighs are that good though, very true). Letting myself actually learn about him and love him instead of trying to conform to the peer f1blr pressure to hate on him once I realized there might be something more to him (even when half those people seem to secretly consume and enjoy content with him anyway while pretending they can’t stand any part of him) is the best thing I’ve ever done.

[naamahdarling]

I think I "should be spending time" doing exactly what I did, because if I didn't, the animals would have been left in a maybe dangerous situation, and I possibly would have missed the opportunity to get them entirely, and they would have gone back to the person who was trying to exploit them. They wouldn't have died, no, but I hope you can understand why I was not going to let that happen.

The familiar and light tone does sound a bit like I'm just out here cool with the breeding, and I think I just. Didn't get the point across that this was not not not a good situation.

I didn't want to go into the circumstances here, or maybe at all, because I was trying to keep it light and it involves the disturbing and tragic death of another animal, and I wasn't quite sure how to handle talking about that. But if there was another option, in the very brief time I had available to me under the kind of pressure I was under, no there wasn't. Because if I hadn't done exactly as I did, I would have lost the kittens as well as Dad.

The parents are unneutered because they are being bred for money just because they're pretty. I hate that. I have no access to the person, only a member of her family, who had managed to obtain dad and these babies. I want to make this stop. Getting a person who is exploiting animals for money to part with their animals is very difficult. It's nigh impossible doing it through a proxy. By taking and securing the kittens I am preventing this person from profiting from them, and I am keeping an avenue of positive communication open with the only other people who can help. I have these kittens' older siblings. I cannot emphasize to you enough just how badly I want their parents to be safe. I can probably get Winston eventually. It is very possible that their mother won't make it through another litter so I pray to god I can get her too. If she becomes ill or weak enough, this person may be willing to let her go, at which point, boom, I have a problem again. But I'll save her because her daughter is doing biscuits on my lap right now:

I have been trying to intervene in this situation for months, to do all the shoulds, and was finally making headway, and then something really really terrible happened to someone's best friend and emotional service animal tonight and I had no breathing room. I had to move fast.

Everything you suggest is something that I would normally do, and would normally be equipped to do. A lot of things aligned just wrong to make this impossible to do in the way that I usually do it. I normally don't hesitate to drop a LOT to save a single animal if I have to (see my #littlemissfancypants tag for the world's least free free cat) because the love of the internet is vast, and people are fundamentally kind no matter what anybody says, and it is usually possible for me to offset most of it or all of it, and shelters are hard to find space in for animals in a bad way, and why take a space away when they are healthy animals I could easily place myself? It's foolhardy, given what I live on, but I'll do if nobody else is there to. But right now my CareCredit is maxed out from three of our cats dying earlier this year in an absolute fucking unpreventable travesty that hollowed me out and took away part of my boyfriend's soul, and due to that same loss I am nowhere near emotionally up to doing anything fundraising related. I haven't even been able to do it to wipe out our IDK $5,500 worth of debt from not being able to prevent our boys from leaving us. Various factors meant I do not have the spare space I normally do, I am injured and usually can't walk normally or I would have cleared the back room, the current room that is cleared for kittens is full of OUR new babies (the older siblings to these two) and adding more cats to this situation wouldn't help because our pre-existing cat and lone survivor of the horror show that was August, lost every single one of her friends and is now extremely depressed and anxious and psychologically could not tolerate the addition of three other cats which, at the time I made the decisions I did, I assumed would include an adult male intact tomcat. A lot of shit went into this going all to hell. I'm not inexperienced at this and it normally goes much more smoothly and it's so frustrating.

I did the right thing tonight, and I don't think that if you would been in my position you would have done differently, I truly don't.

I know you don't mean any harm, but this actually hurt. You couldn't have known, but man did you hit a nerve with "you should."

"Could you" is better, for next time.

Because no. Tonight I couldn't. Tonight I did what I should. Someone had to and I was who was there.

If you are within 3 hours of Tulsa, and you love cats,

I need you all to consider, right now, whether you would be willing to take Jasper and Juniper's little brothers as a bonded pair, and/or their wonderful daddy (unneutered) together or separate.

I need to place them as soon as possible. Unlike I usually am able to I currently am not able to keep them or get them neutered and vetted. When we lost the boys I'm maxed out our CareCredit.

Edit: too slow to get Winston surrendered, babies available.

Jesus.

[kierrasreads]

Tales from the cafe by Toshikazu Kawaguchi Review

SPOILERS AHEAD

Plot

In a small back alley in Tokyo, there is a café which has been serving carefully brewed coffee for more than 100 years. But this coffee shop offers its customers a unique experience: the chance to travel back in time....

From the author of Before the Coffee Gets Cold comes a story of four new customers, each of whom is hoping to take advantage of Cafe Funiculi Funicula's time-travelling offer.

Among some faces that will be familiar to listeners of Kawaguchi's previous novel, we will be introduced to:

The man who goes back to see his best friend who died 22 years ago,

The son who was unable to attend his own mother’s funeral,

The man who travelled to see the girl who he could not marry,

The old detective who never gave his wife that gift....

This beautiful, simple tale tells the story of people who must face up to their past in order to move on with their lives. Kawaguchi once again invites the listener to ask themselves: what would you change if you could travel back in time?

Discussion

This book actually made me cry. While all of the stories were sad, "Married Couple" got to me the most. Not only do we see Kiyoshi travel back in time and talk with Kazu's mother, we learn that Kazu is pregnant. We also learn more about Kazu's tragic backstory. I legit cried when Kazu finally allows herself to be happy and her mother's ghost vanishes, seemingly to move on once she knows that her daughter has finally let go of the guilt that she's been carrying for over 20 years.

When I read "Kazu's spring has just begun," I had to set the book down and process the array of emotions that I was experiencing at that moment. I honestly relate to Kazu; I'm still grieving the death of my beloved aunt, who tragically passed away two years ago this May. For a while, I just felt numb and went about with business as usual: going to class, doing homework, and going to work teaching first graders how to use blocks of ten to figure out math problems or teaching college students how to use semicolons and how to correctly cite an article using APA 7th edition. I refused to confront my grief until one day, I allowed myself to face my feelings and begin the slow process of healing. I know that I sound like a walking cliche, allowing myself to actually feel something, but until you go through those stages of grief, you won't understand. Yukio is another demonstration of the guilt that's always chained to grief; he does turn his life around, reinstating the adage "it's never too late to start over."

Kawaguchi sensei's writing style is beautiful, with a few awkward bumps along the way. I'm not sure if that's tied to a translation issue or if Kawaguchi sensei did that purposefully. Regardless, his poignant writing style strikes an emotional cord. Through his use of third-person omniscient, the reader feels what the amateur time travelers are feeling.

There are some content warnings, so I'm listing them here:

D*ath

Grief

Loss of parent

Miscarriage

Cancer

S*icidal thoughts/s*icide mentioned

I cannot emphasize this enough, you need to read this series. My next review will be on Before Your Memory Fades, the third book of this series. I just know that it'll be as good as its predecessors.

Rating

5/5

[rebel-in-white]

Sam Wilson’s Feelings Towards Bucky Barnes

In this meta, I’m arguing that Sam Wilson, as he is portrayed in the Falcon and the Winter Soldier, has romantic feelings for Bucky Barnes. Before you think I’m overreaching and reading too much into this show, read on and think about the evidence I’m going to present. Could a simple friendship explain the differences in Sam’s interactions with other characters versus his interactions with Bucky?

Disclaimer: I’m not saying that Disney is going to show us a homosexual couple. Honestly, I don’t think that’s going to happen. I’m not accusing anyone of queerbaiting either. I don’t want to enter into that argument. I just believe that Sam Wilson is a man in love with another man. 

Sam’s Demeanor with Bucky:

In episode 1, we have a delightful scene between Sam and Torres, who seems to genuinely admire Sam. After taking a video of Sam speaking Arabic, the impressed Torres makes a few light comments. Sam responds with a smile but maintains a serious demeanor and cracks minimal jokes. He doesn’t relax or drop his guard. Compare that to his drastic change in attitude in episode 2. After only spending 3 minutes with Bucky, he’s talking about wizards and sorcerers and something about hats. 

And he’s always joking around with Bucky. He doesn’t let himself do that with other characters on the show, not even his own sister. This shows that with Bucky, Sam feels like he can relax more. For some reason, he feels safe with Bucky to show his true self.

Sam checks on him, constantly

In episode 1, we find out that Sam has texted Bucky post blip several times. Enough times that Bucky’s therapist, Dr. Raynor, uses that to gauge how well Bucky is connecting with other people. She admonishes him for ignoring Sam’s texts. In episode 3, we find out that Sam hasn’t given Sharon the same treatment. He hasn’t texted or called her, despite the fact that she had placed her career on the line for him, Steve, and Bucky. His only concern was Bucky and to see how he was doing.

Not only did he text Bucky, but Sam is periodically checking on his state of mind and well being, showing genuine concern and care. 

“You good?” 

“What’s going on in that Cyborg brain of yours?” 

Again, we don’t see him check on other characters like this. Bucky gets special treatment.

Sam lets Bucky do what he wants

The keyword here is lets. Sam lets Bucky do whatever the f*ck he wants to do because he’s weak in the face of Bucky’s desires and demands. Sam can be very stubborn, he’s just subtle with it. In the show, he refuses to give up on the boat, refuses to give into his sister’s demands, and tries to think of solutions for this problem. That bank scene not only hints at the consequences of the blip and other social issues, but it highlights Sam’s intelligence and determination. When he wants something, he will work hard to get it. That’s why he survived so long as Steve’s partner-in-crime when they were on the run. And he still hasn’t given up on the boat.

Yet, we see this intelligent, stubborn man cave into Bucky over and over again. First, Bucky wants to come with him on the mission in episode 2. Sam says no, but Bucky is sitting with him on the plane in the next scene. If Sam truly didn’t want Bucky to come, he wouldn’t have let him come. He isn’t a pushover- he gave up Steve’s shield because he couldn’t stand the idea of being the new Captain America. Some other examples: Sam lets Bucky go in to see Zemo alone and goes along with his plan to use Zemo’s connections to find out more about the super-soldier serum.

Sam keeps touching Bucky’s metal arm

He’s touched Bucky’s metal arm a total of three times. The first time, after rolling in the flowers, he lets his hand rest on it. This is almost a comforting gesture, one that is entirely unnecessary, but the camera lingers on the touch for a few seconds. Next, in the therapy scene, he pointedly slaps Bucky’s vibranium arm. In episode 3, Sam protectively grabs Bucky when he sees that the danger has increased in the bar. The touch helps snap Bucky out of his Winter Soldier mode. 

This shows a fascination with what makes Bucky different and dangerous, which could be the type of people Sam’s attracted to sexually. Let’s not forget that Sam had expressed physical attraction towards Black Widow, who is the embodiment of sensuality and danger. Sam Wilson has a type, and Bucky fits it.

Sam calls Bucky “Buck”

 It’s the nickname Steve had for Bucky, and it’s interesting that Sam seems a little bothered when Bucky says he couldn’t use it.

“Why not? It’s what Steve called you?”

“Steve knew me longer. And Steve had a plan.”

Sam rolls his shoulders, a gesture of discomfort. He says, “I have a plan.” Almost like he wanted to say, now, can I call you “Buck,” too? It’s also very illuminating to hear this nickname when Sam’s afraid for Bucky’s life in episode 3:

[Gunshots]

“Buck!” Sam yells.

The nickname shows a deeper level of intimacy between Sam and Bucky, something that Sam wants. That’s why he uses it, remarks on Steve having used it, and continues to use it. 

Sam lets himself argue with Bucky

Again, the keyword here is lets. Sam is a very controlled person. I’ve read numerous posts about all the things that Sam has to deal with - blip, institutionalized racism, Captain America’s mantle, that mantle being given to a lesser suited individual, losing his boat, losing his friends, and losing the connection with his family. Yet, Sam holds himself together very well. He doesn’t break dangerous criminals out of prison (looking at you Bucky), and he tries to follow his values in a world that is making less and less sense to him. 

Yet, with Bucky Barnes, he allows himself the freedom to argue with him. They argue in episode 2 numerous times, but I’m going to focus on the argument in episode 3. I loved that random back-and-forth in the middle of a fight scene. I cannot picture Sam doing something like that with Steve, and he definitely wouldn’t argue like that with anyone else. With Bucky, we see Sam let his guard down to bicker and voice his immediate feelings and thoughts. We don’t see this happen with anyone else! He’s usually more guarded with his true thoughts and emotions.

What does Bucky feel?

Unfortunately, I don’t see clear evidence that Bucky reciprocates his feelings. There’s evidence that some feelings are forming (I have high hopes for the pulling Sam’s hand closer to his chest scene!), and the genuine bond is there. As of now, Sam’s feelings run deeper. It’s understandable because Bucky is a man in transition. He doesn’t know who he is, and we can see that struggle in some small details here and there: for example, when Sam wedges his thigh between his in the therapy scene, Bucky places his hands over his crotch in an insecure position. Sam, on the other hand, is relaxed and secure in his identity. Bucky is still struggling to adjust to the modern world when he’s a 1940s man at heart. Plus, there’s Steve. According to Sharon, Bucky was “Mr. America” (LOL). He needs more time to solidify himself and his feelings.

Where did these feelings come from?

Sexual attraction (sexy and dangerous is Sam’s type)

Bucky is probably the only person in his life who makes sense. Everything else is so different and difficult.

He was Steve’s close friend, and Sam loved and respected Steve.

Bucky ignites his protective instincts. Bucky emphasizes this when he says that Sam gave up so much for him. (Interesting that Bucky doesn’t mention Steve, who wanted to save his best friend and helped to convince his current friend to help him do that.)

Perhaps, Bucky reminds him of Riley (would love to see a Riley flashback)

He feels a connection to the loneliness he sees in Bucky. Despite the people in his life and his natural charisma, Sam strikes me as a solitary figure.

Ultimately, we still know very little about Sam and Bucky, and we have three episodes left of the show, so many things can change! Hopefully, the change will be good for this ship.

I hope you enjoyed this meta. Thank you for reading!

[psychewritesbs]

Chapter 167: Tokyo Colony No. 1, part 7: Higuruma’s righteousness + Megumi’s righteousness

Gah, I LOVE Megumi. 

I have absolutely loved seeing Higuruma and getting my fix of my favorite care bear, Yuji, but I was also going through Megumi withdrawals over here. I almost started foaming at the mouth.

Our patience as Megu-stans was rewarded with your usual Megumi bad-assery and with Gege shinning a light on his beautiful character yet again. Life is good--we don’t even have to wait a week for next week’s chapter.

It is indeed a happy JJK-Sunday!

Higuruma’s righteousness

Wait no, where is he going?!

Someone stop him ffs! 

WE LOVE YOU HIROMI! Don’t leave us...

Aaaaaaaaaand he’s gone.... womp womp womp (*cue sad music*).

I figured he could have death flags just for becoming Yuji’s mentor, but this... he JUST came into the picture and Gege gave him an amazing backstory and development as a character and he’s gone just as quickly as he showed up.

I have to say I truly admire Gege for taking the risks he takes in his writing. So far he’s turned the JJK world he built upside down, he’s killed off a number of beloved characters, he’s hiding a couple of super popular and beloved characters, and he’s scarred the faces and bodies of yet more beloved characters.

Basically getting too attached to any character in JJK ultimately leads to heartache...

So it really is no surprise Higuruma is out of the picture (hopefully only for the time being?). 

Above all, I absolutely loved how Gege continues to unfold Higuruma's character right up until the end.

This is a man who has such a blind trust in justice that he will go as far as turning himself in for a crime he committed even when he could just as easily walk away. Talk about being congruent with your values and having the strength of character to walk your talk.

Higuruma is indeed quite the righteous person. And yet, despite having a strong moral compass that points him in the right direction, again, I just cannot emphasize enough how much I love that Higuruma does not see himself as someone who has the right to judge others and dictate what is right or wrong for them (*cough* antis *cough*).

There is a big difference between holding yourself to high moral standards, and holding others to high moral standards without taking the time to understand them. I keep repeating myself, but to me, this is what Higuruma stands for--that willingness to set aside your judgments and lead with heart, lead with compassion. And if I am to be honest, I could learn some lessons from Higuruma’s deeply compassionate character as well. 

Higuruma is deeply compassionate of the duality of being human--of the interplay between our light and our shadow. Unfortunately, that level of compassion comes with a steep cost (just go ask Tokyo Babylon and x/1999’s Sumeragi Subaru).

In the end, Higuruma understands he too is deeply human and as such, just as ugly as he is virtuous. 

Yes Yuji, I felt the same way when he walked away from us.

Megumi’s righteousness

Megumi’s brand of righteousness is very similar to Higuruma’s. In Megumi’s case, however, I would call him a true Knight in shinning armor (mostly because this is what Remi asked of him).

Megumi is someone who, despite constantly being cruel to Remi, despite threatening to kill her, and despite how pissed off he is at her for stabbing him in the back, being the deeply compassionate person that he is, he gives her one more chance.

Perhaps Megumi sees how naive Remi is to blindly trust that someone else would take care of her in a situation like the Culling Game. 

In the end, Remi too is a victim of Kenjaku’s goals and she’s only showing her true colors because she has her back against the wall--so her reaction is only natural.

To me, this is Gege showing a couple of things.

First, people will show their true colors and how weak their character is when under pressure or with their back against the wall. Again, just notice how Higuruma is planning to turn himself in even though he could get away with murderer, and compare that to how Remi is doing something she knows is wrong to keep herself alive but has no problem justifying her actions.

Second, Megumi is the kind of person who has no interest in abusing his power over those he knows he could easily overpower. In other words, he is a benevolent person at heart.

Whatever the case, perhaps Megumi realized he doesn’t want to kill her or has not been pushed into a place that would cause him to cross that line just quite yet.

A line that Gege himself is playing with right now in what could be an attempt to show either how Megumi did or did not go down the path of carnage. 

Gege you tease. Talk about a slow burn...

I just finished reading x/1999 where I saw at least 5 rolling heads and 3 or 4 dismembered corpses (I kind of lost count), so I am sort of itching for some  Megumi in all of his glorious, violent repressed self.

For the time being, Megumi is prioritizing strategy and has not let his anxiety (which we have seen escalate in previous chapters) get the better of him just yet.

Other random thoughts

Right. I have to ask again. Am I the only one who thinks things are unfolding rather well for our boys? Like... too good to be true given this is Gege Akutami we’re talking about here.

At the rate things are going, the two rules will be implemented just as planned. But, something is bound to go wrong at some point. The question is when and how.

We already knew Kenny is up to no good but Gege is starting to flesh out what that means in the big scheme of JJK-things.

This makes me curious because of the deadlock in Tokyo Colony No. 2 and how Tokyo Colony No. 1 could be headed in that direction with Yuji, Higuruma and Megumi at the top. Maybe Gege will show that Mr. Fashionable Receipts is indeed strong (he did hurt Kon after all, poor puppy) or another strong character is introduced.

Also, what’s with the Chinese? Do I smell more political commentary in the air? This reminded me of Shinichiro Watanabe making commentary about America’s meddling with Japanese politics in Zankyou no Terror.

And, of course, who the hell goes around throwing eye balls in the air?

I’ve heard there is speculation that it could be either Nobara or Gojo. I have no wild guesses to make about this one but I have my doubts that it’s either of them. 

But hey, I could be wrong. Let’s wait to find out until next week!

Until then, happy JJK-Sunday!

Thank you as always for reading, liking and reblogging my nerdery.

[justalads]

c!niki and c!wilbur enjoyers. pspspspspspsps

alright guys so last night i rewatched pretty much all of the pogtopia arc. and this isn’t meant to be a big, important analysis post (it’s kind of incomprehensible), because my brain is fried from, you know. rewatching pretty much all of pogtopia. but i do have some stuff i’d like to say.

(this also just became a niki meta sorry i love her. i really just got emo about her during the second half of this and it got long. i have a lot of feelings about her and wilbur’s friendship.)

it’s a pretty general conclusion that wilbur’s real “downfall” began on october 8th, during the stream “who are you go away”. of course, his spiral and the process of him losing faith had begun much earlier, more around the end of the first war or during the election. but the big switch, so to say, was definitely here, when as wilbur walks back from schlatt’s announcement, he asks tommy if they’re the bad guys.

this entire scene was so interesting to me. wilbur here is a man who has lost hope, someone who is backed into a corner morally and has nothing left. he points out that they can never really reclaim l’manburg without forever tainting it, and that schlatt knows this. the entire half an hour or so before, schlatt has been taunting wilbur about losing that power. the emphasis of the festival on “democracy” is so clearly a barb thrown at wilbur, and it works.

wilbur’s “nothing left to lose” in this vod is a mirror to niki’s “you know what they say about a woman who has nothing left to lose”. this will not be the first time they mirror each other.

basically, wilbur’s angry. when schlatt announced the festival, wilbur realized that maybe it wasn’t a terrible thing. so once he worked around into the mindset of “we’re the bad guys”, he was able to justify saying he was going to blow up the nation with no remorse. he wants chaos! he wants no survivors!

does he do it? god no.

during the streams leading up to november 16th, wilbur is consistently scared. he goes back and forth on it, and makes multiple “conditions” that determine whether he’s going to do it or not, almost begging someone to stop him. he whispers to himself that he’s scared, that his hands are shaking, that he’s not sure if it’s the right thing to do. because despite what he says about “not caring about any of them”, the instant niki is threatened after tubbo’s death, wilbur walks up to schlatt and tells him that if he’s going to kill anyone it should be him. later, when quackity and tommy talk him down from pressing the button, he can’t press it because they’re there and he can’t bring himself to kill them as well.

but he has no problems with putting his own life at risk. he refuses to wear armor half the time, and actively places himself in harm’s way to save others. he still cares about everyone else, as much as he says he doesn’t. even when he does cause harm to others, during november 16th, he immediately begs phil to kill him. “look, they all want you to.” he can’t live with what he’s done, and how he’s hurt people, but he couldn’t allow manburg to continue.

the man is terrified and angry and he can’t win. and even as he tries to stuff himself into the mind of someone who doesn’t care, he cannot. when he finally does, he cannot live with being that person.

but the reason i rewatched this arc was to see niki’s point of view, especially after her statements during her last stream. i genuinely think that wilbur’s only betrayal of her was pressing the button, because he betrayed everyone. they might have known he was going to do it, but they had faith he wouldn’t.

wilbur cared a lot about niki. her life under schlatt was awful, wilbur hated that she was suffering, and the scene where wilbur plants himself directly in the center of the festival and tells schlatt to kill him instead hits pretty hard. he has the argument with schlatt, and then turns to niki and tells her to run. he then hits people and sprints away, trying to give her time to escape.

this is also when he asks her to join pogtopia, because now that schlatt has said he’d kill her, it’s a safer place for her.

so the man did care about her. niki is angry at the memory of him that she has. it’s been twisted by time and her own grief and paranoia.

in rewatching pogtopia, i realized that a lot of people hate the memory of wilbur. not him, and what he did. they think he didn’t care. and to quote hamilton (apologies):

“history obliteratesit paints me in all my mistakes”

does niki have a right to be mad at him? absolutely. he caused direct harm to her by blowing up l’manburg, once it was reclaimed. but she’s wrong that he never cared.

(an interesting note: wilbur only blows it up after techno starts fighting people outside. he hears it, and says “look, they’re fighting”. he didn’t re-initiate the conflict of the country. the fact that even after peace was won people were fighting just gave evidence to his belief that the entire country was corrupted.)

niki has been hurt a lot, and wilbur has things to answer for. but we as the audience know that her statements are just her perception. she is a character who acts on perceptions. the entire stream was in black and white. during doomsday, upon seeing wilbur log on (as ghostbur), niki has a panic attack and destroys her bakery, trying to rid herself of the pain of the memories. her lines during this stream are chilling, whispered repetitions that are a mirror of wilbur’s end.

(paraphrased, it was long and confusing but there are a few bits and this was the essence of it)

“wilbur is gone. this isn’t happening. he is dead. l’manburg is gone.”“it is real, i am real, he is real and he is dead.”“l’manburg is gone, i am real, i am l’manburg”.

(god. dude i could spend Months analyzing this one stream alone. there’s so much here.)

doesn’t that sound a bit like “my unfinished symphony”? wilbur and niki both attach their own self to the nation they fought for, and can see it as an extension of themself. they both destroy parts of it in acts of fear, attempting to save everyone else from what they’ve made.

what i pulled away from niki’s stream is that she’s not healing. i remember the chamber she locks herself in at night. i remember her refusal to eat. i remember how she was so angry at tommy, and she later realized that anger was misguided. niki genuinely believes that wilbur did not care about her, and that’s not surprising: when he died, she denied the fact that he was gone. she represses the things that she can’t handle, same as lots of other people. it is easier for her to pin her hurt on wilbur, because she needs somewhere to pin it. people feel more in control if they’re angry, not sad.

the song cc!niki said was for her character really emphasizes this. it’s a coping mechanism.

but even condemning wilbur won’t help, because she will still never get closure. niki cares about what others think of her, and so she can’t move on from someone hurting her. she can’t move on because she thinks he hated her. she is angry that he is back, but it is an opportunity for her to heal. she couldn’t heal when he was gone. she’s not the only one with a negative perception of wilbur, after all. he has one too. the two of them really need to talk.

i want niki to be healthy and safe. i want to see her heal so badly, and i do think it will happen. after wilbur died, his betrayal of her stayed with her, and it eventually became her memory of the betrayal that she hated, not the thing itself. it’s been months since it happened. niki wants to find an outlet for her hurt, because she wants to feel better. there’s a pattern i noticed: she only gets mad at people once she hasn’t seen the person themself for a while. and once she sees them and talks to them, and realizes that they care about her and don’t want to hurt her, she stops blaming them for it. she only hates her perception of them. example one? tommy.

man was in exile for a long time, and when he came back he “brought” fighting. that’s how niki saw it. but the fact that after she spent time with tommy (trying to kill him but. details, details) she forgave him because she saw it wasn’t his fault is a really good sign.

i genuinely think that speaking to wilbur will help niki, and it will also help wilbur. after all, they both hate wilbur. the entire perception of wilbur as some heartless, crazy manipulator needs to be shattered for both of their sakes. they both buy into it.

i want niki to know that others care about her, and that she has places she can feel safe. she hates that wilbur is invading the syndicate, because she’s scared of his memory hurting her. i don’t think wilbur will hurt her on purpose, because even though he sees himself as awful, he doesn’t hate her. he never did. usually, with people who have hurt someone else, i want them as far away from the person they hurt as possible. if wilbur does hurt niki i’ll probably cry. but again, it’s not him that hated her, or really him that hurt her in the way she thinks he did. when wilbur was dead, niki didn’t get any better. her memory of him festered and made her feel worse. that’s also why niki killing wilbur or hurting him somehow wouldn’t help her heal. i want wilbur to explain that he didn’t hate her. is wilbur even close to self aware enough to help niki? nah. this is going to take a Long time, and it’s going to hurt.

last thing i swear lol

during niki’s stream, she says that wilbur manipulated her. again, i watched pogtopia last night, and i’ve watched the rest of season one recently as well. i genuinely don’t see it. but i do think i know why she said it.

during season one, wilbur doesn’t manipulate niki. he doesn’t have a chance to later, he’s dead. so then, what is she talking about? of course it’s a perception, same as a lot of her other claims. i think she’s talking about how she cared for l’manburg.

niki joined the server as wilbur’s friend, to join his nation. she grew to care for l’manburg. she devoted herself to it, same as he did. but doomsday showed us that she hates that. in niki’s eyes, l’manburg only brought pain for people, and because she ties herself to it, she hates that she ever cared about it. she can’t allow herself to care for it, because it was used to hurt. so how does she cope with knowing that she once did? she pretends she didn’t.

if she can convince herself that it was wilbur who convinced her to care about l’manburg, she can avoid blaming herself for her own pain. and yeah, she shouldn’t blame herself for it. it’s not her fault. the entire situation is tragic and a little hopeless and once again really makes me hope that she recovers. l’manburg was ruined for her by others. schlatt, techno, dream, wilbur. again another place where she and wilbur are similar: they convince themselves they never cared about l’manburg because of the hurt it caused.

to summarize: wilbur’s going to get a shock soon. don’t know when, but probably the prison visit. something is going to shake his perception, the story is hurtling towards that. once he is able to take responsibility for what he did, and feel safe (because a lot of what he does now is out of fear of being alone or useless), then he and niki need to talk. niki needs something to get her out of her own head. she’s spiraling too. they are essential to each other’s recovery because of how much they meant (and mean) to each other.

anyways i miss early season one niki i liked it when she was happy :(

~ Lad 2

[andro-dino]

Okay I was inspired by your recent Sophie-wales-Julian fanart, so may I plEASE PLEASE request some nice date headcanons or just Headcanons about them in general my heart it fills me with JOY

UWAGAGSGWYAUSW YES ALWAYS I LOVE THEM SO MUCH

I think with them being mega rich kids, they go on very fancy dates. Whether it be at super fancy restaurants or really exclusive places, they can enjoy some very luxurious stuff. I also think that Julian especially dislikes having public eyes on him when it comes to his personal life, ESPECIALLY with his relationship with wales and Sophie, so if they do go out somewhere, he probably tries to book the place out in advance so they don’t have to worry about that too much. This is very easy for him to do most of the time.

They’re very much art kids. I think they probably go to like, museums, orchestras, operas, and ballets a lot. They’ve got lots of appreciation for classical art and stuff and they like talking about it afterwards. They’re very knowledgeable about it so they always read into very specific techniques and details they noticed.

I like to think that Julian and Sophie have both done ballet at some point and have done a couple duets together

Julian spoils the shit out of the other two. His main love language is gift giving and he’s loaded so he can be very over the top at times. He tries not to give them anything insanely expensive but he does love giving them gifts all the time

Wales likes legos. I don’t know why my brain has settled in this idea but it has. He has a giant collection and likes showing them off and infodumping abt them. The others find it charming.

a bit of a hurt/comfort here, I think Julian struggles with depression sometimes and when he’s going through episodes, he can have some somewhat self destructive tendencies. He can be very closed off and tend to hyper focus on work or training to the point where he kinda neglects his own needs. It’s something that he works on more post-masters but he still struggles with it at times. When this happens though, Sophie and Wales do their best to support him in any way they can. Occasionally this means having to forcibly pull him away to get him to just relax with them or give himself some time. Whatever they can do to help. Julian in turn tries to make sure to more openly express his appreciation for them. He has issues vocalizing his feelings and he’s aware of how he can come off sometimes, but especially if he’s going through a rough patch, he does his best to make sure they know that he appreciates them and loves them more than anything. He feels like he didn’t really show them the proper love and appreciation they deserved before and really tries to do his best to improve about that and make it up to them.

on a lighter note, I know I say this every time I talk about them, but I really cannot emphasize enough that they ARE SO FUCKING WHIPPED FOR EACH OTHER. ALL THREE OF THEM. ALL OF THEM JUST LOVE THE OTHER TWO S O MUCH AND JUST ADMIRE THEM AND LOOK AT THEM LIKE THEY RAISE THE FUCKING SUN. All of them have LISTS of things that they love about each other and constantly just go through them every time they think about each other they are SICKENINGLY in love

Klaus is very supportive and usually is the guy they go to for advice or to just generally rant to about everything they love about the others.

I think Wales is probably the most openly affectionate of the three. He takes no time telling them that he loves them every other sentence and constantly showers them with affection. He simply holds so much love in him.

I think Sophie picks up on a lot of little details about the two. She notes a lot about their mannerisms and general behavior but also just listens to them very intently. She’ll occasionally bring up very specific details they previously mentioned and really just shows how attentive she really is and how much she keeps in mind. She’s very particular about certain things they like and dislike as well.

oki I think that’s all I’ve got for now hope you enjoyed I love them with all my heart

[kiwi--bot]

Patterns

Rating: T Words: 2,872 Warnings: Blood, Injuries, Al-An doesn’t understand emotions very well. Summary: Al-An prefers when things fall into an easily recognizable pattern. It’s how data forms, it’s easier to work with, and less surprises make it easier to remain efficient. Robin is a rogue bit of code in the set sequence.

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Indeed, it had been quite some time since Al-An was allowed to exist in any dimensions outside of their temporary isolation. And truly, Robin had done well in the fabrication of an Architect form that would suit their needs to relocate the pair off the planet, and return to their home with the remedy for the Kharaa Bacterium; for the Architects of their home world.

Unfortunately, following the reconstruction of their new form, Al-An is hit with the immediate problem that their supposed mode of transportation has... degraded over time; and they are quite lacking really on the resources department. Countless amounts of bits and bobs, here and there, that simply corroded over the years, or just did not operate further. And every small tick of a list of issues added up to an inoperable phase gate. Yet Robin-- ever so helpful Robin-- offers to help collect whatever Al-an could need to repair their ship.

“Always together, even if you’re not stuck upstairs anymore,” She had joked, tapping the side of her head in an emphasized way. How Al-An could only think of how true that statement was...

And so, life on 4546B settled into somewhat of a steady, even pace for Robin and Al-An.

Robin relocates her primary base to the facility where Al-An prepares for convenience’s sake. She wakes up late in the morning, and Al-An’s learned to get a cup of coffee steaming hot and settled at her nightstand at precisely 13:29. This in turn helps her wake up and become functional no later than 13:50-14:00, depending on how late she was up the previous night.

Following that, Al-An fabricates a nutritious meal of her choosing, and it’s set onto a table-- or, a section of the facility that’s been repurposed into a table-- and she eats before she heads out for the day to find the resources needed. (And always, Al-An makes sure that there’s a fabricated meal packed away in a thermally-controlled container for her to take along.) And like clockwork, Robin is back at 22:22 with her Seatruck stuffed to the brim with all the supplies she could find.

And usually Al-An has to check her for injuries or parasites and she just grins when they comment on how inefficient her resource-gathering is if she must hurt herself every single time. “Awww, you just like to fret over me, Al-An,” she coos as they utilize their on-hand medical devices to knit up skin from a rather nasty bite.

“I do not fret, I observe,” Al-An states plainly, and Robin rolls her eyes, only wincing a little when Al-an has to wipe over another puncture with that strange antiseptic gel, and the skin closes under the heat of that magic little tool that Robin has yet to scan. “And I know that humans are one of the most fragile things that get in more trouble compared to any living creature I have yet to meet.”

“I’m gonna talk that as a compliment, Al-An.” Robin flexes out her wrist once the wound is all sealed up, the only reminder a faint scar left in the wake. She flashes a grin at the Architect, who would promptly turn back to what they had been working on prior before they needed to patch her up.

At 27:00 or 28:00, Al-An ceases working for a short period-- one Robin requested so that they don’t overwork themselves. Of course, an Architect cannot really do such a thing as ‘overwork,’ but Al-An humors her. And Robin’s meal is fabricated and settled on the table no later than 28:50. She used to always request Al-An eat dinner with her-- and although they do not eat like she does, they sit nonetheless at her side.

And Robin will scroll through her PDA and read the day’s logs once again, chewing hear and there and really making an inefficient use of her time as she often does. But humans like to be that way-- leisurely, as Robin once corrected them-- and so Al-An will not question it again.

She always leans back against the stone of the her temporary seat, shrugging and shuffling and making a good amount of noise that could startle even the most focused Architect from their endeavors. Over time, she would unconsciously lay against Al-An’s side, and that often settled her, so they would not comment.

If they had to admit something, the pressure therapy from her body weight was a welcome one, given they did not have the proper tools to recreate such things.

Robin turns into bed anywhere from 1:00-3:00; it will depend on what areas she visited, and what the day’s events involved. And she will bid Al-An goodnight with a smile and pat on their arm, before she retreats to her bed. Although, she doesn’t really go anywhere, because her ‘room’ is just a small section of the facility adjacent to where Al-An primarily works.

She’s fabricated herself a bed, some storage, and even hung up some curtains to block out the steady glow of the facility. It’s a small little space that reminds Al-An of how Architects would furnish the habitats of subjects they used for research.

Peculiar.

And this is how their pattern would fall into, resetting each day at 13:29 with the first coffee of the day. Al-An finds the repeating pattern of each day, as Robin would put it.... soothing. Did Architects even need to be soothed? Historically?

No. And yet Al-An could not help but find this... calm, inside the promise of the known. Perhaps it was a way for them to deal with the fact that they might not know what would await them on the other side of the phase gate, where they would have to face their people, and answer for their mistakes. Perhaps that reason is why they can now find solace and even comfort in something as simple as a daily pattern.

How the other Architects would be baffled at the thought. The very notion of it was so unlike them all. Al-An would have to blame Robin for this, at the very least.

Merging with her cerebral cortex must have changed something in their emotional status....

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And with the promise of a steady pattern, Al-An could find each day predictable enough to not impede any portion of their work. They worked quickly to repair what needed repairs, to adjust what needed adjusting, to alter what needed altering.

Steady. Steady. Steady. Repeat.

The illusion of this pattern gets shattered when 22:42 arrives one evening, and Robin is not yet home. Al-An, logistically, should be business as normal. She could have gone farther, she could have had a small set-back, she could have gotten distracted. But when 23:22 arrives, and Robin is still not home, Al-An finds they cannot work.

The data rolls in front of their vision as normal, the facility is operating at 100%, and they have spent the better part of this week weaving data in such a way that it is second-nature. But their hands do not move, their gaze is transfixed on the door, and the progress of their work is stunted.

She should be back by now. She should have been back exactly 60 minutes ago.

Al-An cannot work. They shut off their normal programs and instead set up a long-range scan. It puts them off schedule immensely, but they, for once, cannot find it in them to care about inefficiency. It takes 20 minutes for the scan to prepare, and the entire time, Al-An keeps their gaze on the door. Like Robin will burst in any second, with a couple new wounds, yes, but here, and alive.

Robin does not enter the door by the time the scan is online at 23:42.

Robin does not enter the door as the scanner searches at 23:43.

Robin does not enter the door as the scanner searches at 23:44.

Robin does not enter the door as the scanner searches at 23:45.

Robin is not home as the scanner searches at 23:46.

Robin is not home safe as the scanner searches at 23:47.

Robin is not home safe as the scanner searches at 23:48.

Robin is not home safe as the scanner searches at 23:49.

Robin must not be safe as the scanner finds her at 23:50.

Al-An must prepare for the worst, even as they wish to leave as soon as the scanner reads her biosignature in the Arctic. No good in retrieving her if they do not have food, medical supplies, warmer clothing, an extra hair tie-- she always complained when her current one would break-- and anything else humans needed when they were potentially in distress--

No.

Robin is not in distress. The very thought has the Architect frozen to the spot, a flicker of something so unfamiliar buzzing through them. She is fine, just delayed. Off-schedule, off-pattern. No matter, Al-An will locate her and then they will both repair that.

They finish collecting everything needed into a neat pack, and just as they prepare to put the facility into lockdown, there’s a familiar faint splashing, and then footsteps padding across a stone floor.

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It is 24:17 when Robin Ayou enters the Architect facility she calls home with her arm crudely wrapped in a sling and her leg leaving a trail of blood. But nonetheless, she’s got the same grin on her face, and carries something sharp in her uninjured hand. She’s limping.

“Al-An!” She calls, her voice loud and full of excitement. She’s stumbling over her own feet, and Al-An blinks to her side to catch her with the beam of their mechanical arm, lifting her right off the ground. She doesn’t notice how their posture is tight and tense, instead waving the sharp object in her hand. “Al-An I did it! I fought off one of those Shadow Leviathans and I freaking won!”

Al-An does not reply.

“It tried to eat me, Al-An!” Robin’s arm waves wildly in her excitement, and she doesn’t protest when Al-An brings her to the empty table to seat her, once again getting to work on mending what is broken. Her injured arm has several gashes in it: some down to the bone, and covered messily with plant matter. Al-An removes those and starts on sterilization.

“It yanked me by the arm, but I was quick-- I stabbed him right in the eye, and I held on, because he was pulling me towards his mouth!” She grins wider, adrenaline masking any pain from the antiseptics, or how the beam begins to knit the skin and muscle back to one piece. “I lost my grip on my knife, but I grabbed his spine-- or whatever those glowing things on his belly are-- and I held on and kicked him right in the stomach!”

Al-An silently redirects attention to her leg, where acidic liquid had eaten through her suit and burned the skin-- not too horribly, but bloody. That is treated next.

“And then I must of hurt him bad, because he let me go, but not before I yanked and yanked on those spine things-- And look! I got it, I ripped one clean off!” She’s talking quickly, her body thrumming at the thrilling tale, and feeling so alive. “I felt bad at first, but then I remembered that he tried to eat me, so I shrugged it off, and he backed off after I ripped off this. I won, Al-An! Against a freaking Shadow Leviathan!”

Robin laughs, slapping her now healed hand against her forehead and grinning wildly. “God, I thought for sure I was a goner when I didn’t take the prawn suit down--”

“And why didn’t you, Robin?”

They are both startled by the tone of Al-An’s voice. And Robin finally realizes that Al-An is stiff, mechanical in how they treat her-- so different from the almost caring way they usually do. And they are glowing a sickly yellow color, their gaze transfixed on her wounds as the mechanical arm fixes up the burns on her leg.

“I-I.....” Robin is at a loss, her eyes now locked onto them. “I.... don’t know.”

An uncomfortable silence falls between them. Al-An finishes up work on her leg, and then does a general scan over her to make sure they didn’t miss any other wounds. Processing, methodical, even.

Something is wrong, Robin thinks. Even now, as they seem to pull away from the situation, the same sickly color tinges the edge of her vision. Robin catches their arm as they turn to assess her findings, and she doesn’t miss how they tense.

“Al-An....” She begins, but stops. She can’t find the right thing to say. It all feels wrong. Like anything she says next won’t be the right thing to say. But she tries with, “Are you okay?”

“That is hardly a question you should ask me, Robin.” Al-An’s voice has gone back to the same, even tone as when they first met, but it’s all off. Too even, too tight. Like there is something beneath the surface, just hiding and waiting to strike like an Ice Worm. “You should ask yourself that. You were the one who was injured. Sustaining traumatic injuries is detrimental to the overall health of--”

“Did I scare you?” She asks, and Al-An falters.

“Fear is not a concept we feel,” They state, and yet they now feel the sinking familiarity of it nonetheless. Fear. They were afraid, they had been afraid when Robin was not home at the right time. They were scared when Robin returned injured. They were scared when she recounted her harrowing tale, and they were scared that she’s going to do it again and they would not be there to pick up the pieces--

“Al-An...” Robin’s voice cuts through the swirling data inside their head, and her eyes are soft as she reaches and touches their chest gently. She feels.... awful. Physically and emotionally. How could she not realize that they were upset? How could she have been so blind when she’s normally so in tune with the Architect? “Al-An, I’m really sorry.”

“You have done nothing that warrants an apology,” Al-An states; but their lights flicker pink for the briefest moment. “You were simply acting inefficiently and radically in a way that could have resulted in several versions of a potential death, which is not uncommon for your species.”

Robin smiles. That unintentional insult was 100% all Al-An. She shifts closer to them, and then her arms wrap around them, and she leans her head against their chest, and she imagines she can hear their heartbeat through their thick, armored body. “I know, I was being an idiot. I’m sorry.”

“What are you doing?”

“I’m hugging you, Al-An. Never had a hug before?”

“Architects do not partake in this sort of behavior,” Al-an tells her. But, nonetheless, they mimic her movements, and their organic arms encircle her smaller frame, and having her close to them like so reminds them just of how tiny and delicate she is. “....Touching one another was not commonplace.”

“Then I’m gonna make it commonplace, and I’m gonna give you a hug everyday until I catch up on the hugs you’ve missed out on your whole life,” Robin hums as she closes her eyes, yawning.

“That would be impossible, given the length of your human lifespan,” Al-An corrects her, but they find the idea of one of these each day not entirely unpleasant. Robin laughs, and she just smiles. And their lights shift to a light pink as she falls asleep against them, and they return her to her bed: asleep too early for the schedule.

But it was alright to be a little off-pattern.

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And so, life on 4546B settled into somewhat of a general routine for Robin and Al-An.

Al-An has her coffee ready at 13:29 and she drinks it as she wakes up and rolls out of bed by 14:00. Al-An fabricates breakfast, packs her a lunch, and she’s out the door for the day’s work. And if she returns at 21:57 or 23:37, Al-An is not worried. After all, she’s returning with less injuries, and that is good enough for them.

Together they sit when Robin has her dinner and Al-An has their break around 28:42, and Robin reads aloud her PDA entries to Al-An-- even though they could easily scan and upload the documents themself, it makes her feel happy, so they indulge. And Robin leans back against Al-An without hesitation once she’s done eating, and they find the pressure nice.

And when 1:00 or 2:00 rolls around, just before she turns in for bed, Robin will throw her arms around Al-An for their daily hug, and she will hold on tight for a good few minutes, and Al-An learns to hold her in return. Perhaps if they held long enough, tight enough, she would never be in danger again.

And they find that perhaps, maybe... they like hugs.

And Robin fashions the Leviathan fragment into a necklace, that she gifts Al-An.

And Al-An wears it everyday.

[gerrydelano]

I have a question re: transfem Gerry. So, I'm all over this like syrup on pancakes, it's delicious, it's good, it's gender envy, it's just.. ugh, I Cannot get enough of it. My question is, how does Gerry, being a transfem gay man in your HC, respond to the concept of "being one of the boys". Would he feel.. uncomfortable? Okay with it? Is his relationship to his manhood similar to that of "I am a man, but only conveniently"? Kind of like how some afab nonbinary people still kind of have that "older sister"/"eldest daughter" relationship to gender, even if they don't feel connected to womanhood or gender at all, is that similar to how your Gerry feels? You mentioned Gerry uses she/her in intimate moments, and while I know that pronouns ≠ gender, ofc, how do you see Gerry experiencing gender in those specific moments? (I haven't read all your fics yet so these may be questions answered in those. If so, I'll gladly read along and find out, but I'm just transfixed on transfem Gerry and I want to Behold.)

oh hello! i'm glad that you like the HC, it's one i put a lot of love into and am very attached to & happy to talk about, so i'm thrilled that you sent this! time for me to get very passionate. 

(small warning: section four touches on his sex life and mentions some bottom dysphoria! not graphic or super explicit, it’s largely thematic & just explains how it plays a huge role in how he expresses his gender feelings.

also there’s a bit at the bottom that’s just some accessibility feedback for you!)

01. intro

in regards to being grouped in as “one of the boys,” i think honestly it depends on who is doing it? for the most part, it’s actually exactly what he wants.

at the end of the day, what he’s usually going to identify as first would probably be the words “gay” and “transsexual,” depending on the context in which it comes up. with most people, he doesn’t care to tell you or want you to know he’s transfem unless you’re close to him, because it’s not anyone’s business and he’s a very private person with a lot of understandable trust and intimacy issues. he spent so much time isolated that even though he knows he wants more connection, he’s not going to just dive into it and tell you everything about him from minute one (barring very specific circumstances, but Even Then.) and this is something he’d rather keep close to the chest. not out of shame or fear (anymore) but because he legitimately just does not think most people are entitled to this information, and he’s right.

he’s got a fairly androgynous face, and while that used to be a source of conflict for him, too, that conflict came from thinking he shouldn’t like it as much as he did. and he did like it. i always emphasize that he got his father’s shoulders and hands and jaw, but he has his mother’s cheekbones, and a lot of her basic shapes. he learned his expressions from her. he was mary keay’s child.

gerry used to look in the mirror as a teenager and be upset not that he looked so much like his mother, but that it was something about himself that he loved. he didn’t want to love the things she gave him, because he was afraid it meant he emulated her. it’s very much the opposite, but he didn’t learn that until later.

02. perception & public presentation

if it’s total strangers he’ll never speak to at all, he’s content with just being unidentifiably GNC. there are times he is just a guy with resting bitch face you’re not sure how to approach, and sometimes he’s a lady reading a book in a big chair at the bookstore with her head down, and then the closer you look at him in any of those scenarios, you think, “oh, maybe that’s not quite right.”

this is why, every time i’ve written someone seeing him but not knowing who he is, it defaults to they/them pronouns! that’s chapters 9, 14, and 15 of TSP, namely. even in chapter 7, when he knocks georgie over in dublin by accident, jon refers to him as they/them even when their friend leo pins him as a guy.

he likes the contradiction! one of the first words he ever really liked to describe his gender was just “genderfuck” which he would have seen being used in zines growing up. very punk, frankly.

if it’s strangers-to-acquaintances, people he’ll do business with or encounter briefly at places he frequents, he would much prefer just be read as a man and stay that way.

regarding the “eldest daughter/sister” comparison — YEAH. that’s a huge thing across the board in general. the way that we’re brought up is always going to have hooks in us somewhere. for gerry, he was explicitly raised as a son by a violent woman who had expectations of him as a son, and that’s? something he will always feel conflicted by.

sometimes, he did want to be the son she wanted to be proud of, he still wants his broad shoulders and general silhouette to be read as masculine, his strength and disposition was and is generally masculine first and foremost. 

i don’t really depict him as wearing lipstick or anything of that nature, mostly his makeup is centric around the eyes! and he doesn’t tend to wear feminine clothing out in public when he’s just going about his day doing Spooky Errands because what’s the point? being just some guy gets the job done and he doesn’t want to answer anyone’s questions, he doesn’t have time and more importantly, he really couldn’t give less of a shit about most people or their opinions of him.

typically, socially speaking in that way, he doesn’t tend to get overwhelmed with dysphoria when he’s perceived as a man. he likes and prefers it! because he knows he’s a particular kind of man, and frankly, there’s a level of satisfaction to it. he’s a GNC guy and he likes being a little intimidating about it (in the sense that it’s a bit flustering) because it makes him feel secure, and comfortable, and protected.

for a long time, it was like. being able to be what he needed to be at home to survive his mother, while still being Gender about it. he’s a man more often than not! just not the man you expect or maybe even want.

03. sexuality & relationships

until you’re a prospective interest, in which case: at first, yeah! he still wants to just be seen as a man! if he’s going to a gay bar, he is going to be flirting with men in a way that will lean into his masculinity first. he still wants to be seen as a prospective interest to other gay men, which to a degree does necessitate some connection to manhood (even if his connection to it IS his attraction to other men In A Gay Way, same as how many lesbians feel that way about their connection to womanhood.)

it’s when you get past that point that it starts to change.

in cases where he has an actual long-term partner, he’d like to be more or less seen as feminine in a complimentary way to them, if that makes sense? i see him as drawn a lot to masculinity in general, usually guys with a build like how ren and i HC our tim. he’s a pretty big, solid dude, and gerry likes the security in that, he likes being held and supported.

that doesn’t mean there aren’t exceptions to that trend, though! people are people and if there’s a connection, there’s a connection. gerry’s type is “makes me feel safe, and better.”

EDIT 1/24/22: after some reflection on this topic, i wanted to clarify that i think he would use “gay” as an umbrella term more than a rigid thing! even canon shows that he’s not interested in using strict definitions and labels for HUGE things in the universe, so i find it hard to believe he would get all that granular with himself. plus, i personally interpret him as having DID, which would muddy things plenty Especially if he goes so long without knowing he has it.

in the early days i do think he would be deeply averse to being with women largely as a trauma response, and so for a while would just reject the idea entirely and ignore it as long as he could. not even that he has to fight it or struggles with denying something, he really just doesn’t spend time thinking about it. however, i do think he’s got a capacity to be with maybe A woman after he’s unlocked a Girl Moment and can approach that situation in a decidedly gay way, too, but in most universes i don’t think that would really happen for him! and so he doesn’t think about it too hard. he’ll just say he’s gay and you’ll make your own assumptions about it and he won’t care to correct you because whatever he’s doing, it’s gonna be gay. that’s the way it can feel sometimes when your gender is just “yeah.”

he’d like to be called someone’s boyfriend or girlfriend equally (usually when using she/her with boyfriend and he/him with girlfriend!) but tim in that one scene in PBR wasn’t wrong when he said he’s pretty sure gerry would prefer to be called “wife” instead of “husband” if things were to progress that far in the theoretical universe where marriage didn’t scare them both. if they were to joke about it, make it a pet name, “wife” would be the comfortable one to him! there’s just something about it. when he’s this far into an intimate relationship with someone, i think he would trust them enough to want to eventually use feminine terms more exclusively.

04. the role his sex life plays in his gender

because it actually is an intrinsic part of things for him. i think it’s disingenuous to discount the fact that it’s like this for a lot of people out there, and i think it makes a lot of sense for him given everything he’s been through.

he likes explicitly feminine terms of endearment in bed! like princess, “good girl,” stuff like that. he likes being treated like a lady in these situations! being called beautiful or pretty instead of handsome, having particular aspects of himself focused on and others not brought up. this is where lingerie comes in handy; the sort of thing that only his partner is going to see, that he can save for special occasions. that makes it so somebody is looking at him in a little bit of awe, especially after he starts getting a little softer around the edges on HRT. it’s extremely affirming and helpful and again, very private! 

(save for melanie as his eventual lingerie shopping buddy. they give each other coupons and stuff. friend chip<3)

i also write him as having some bottom dysphoria for a number of reasons, too, so typically that’s a no touch zone, but there comes a point in two relationships in his life that it’s eased somewhat by being able to embrace his femininity and start associating it with that! being able to see people who love him in this way regard something that has brought him such distress throughout his life as a part of the side of himself he’s most protective over, cherishes the most, only trusts them with after a certain point — it’s very healing. VERY gender euphoria.

honestly, his sex life is actually a massively important part of his story in how i portray him. i really think that writing him pursuing and obtaining physical intimacy, particularly gay and T4T sex, is a lot more radical than just. trying to find ways to make his traumatic isolation something he’s okay with or had even sought out on his own. let him want, seek, and find attention and connection in whatever ways he can, whether it’s tethered to lasting love or just a brief thing that makes him feel more present in his body for a while. that isn’t shallow, or inherently harmful or unhealthy. gay sex isn’t regressive or deviant.

also an important HC that goes along with gender for him, tbh: 

EDIT 1/24/22: appending this! i do imagine that he’s a switch in terms of D/s, but in a very specific way. i think he has the capacity to dom and would reserve that approach for any time he does sex work, which i do incorporate into his backstory generally, because it would come with a sense of control and security, and basic safety. he’s NOT going to let himself be vulnerable with strangers, he has never subbed for even a random hookup for fun and never will. it would take him a while to actually learn how much he not only enjoys playing a submissive role but sort of needs to in serious, trusting relationships. and thus:

he prefers playing a more submissive role as somewhat of a reprieve from how much of his life he’s spent hypervigilant and thinking too hard and fighting for a more physical control of his surroundings, and as a way to reclaim his autonomy given that he really is the one in control of things this way, and a way to really establish/strengthen trust with a partner because, just. he’s spent his whole life taking orders and getting hurt, it’d be nice to recontextualize putting his body and well-being in someone else’s hands, and have them actually take care of him.

just. let somebody touch him with kindness and reverence and make him feel like somebody actually wants him, wants him around, wants to make him feel good instead of hurting him, literally any of that is something that can be so important to acknowledge for a character with a backstory like his. 

he deserves it! and it IS intrinsically tied into the way he experiences gender. it ALL comes back to reclamation, trust, privacy, and making choices about who has access to what parts of him.

05. how i write him experiencing and expressing it in TSP and PBR

as for the intimate moments where he experiments with she/her pronouns, i’ve only written that in PBR so far because it’s the only time i’ve actually captured him being able to pursue transition while in a relationship with someone who he can actually explore that feeling with! i imagine he never really did manage medical transition before Dying in canon, for a hundred different reasons, and usually it’s a big thing i use to signify/mark his recovery after i find ways for him to survive in my AUs.

i won’t NOT encourage you to read my stuff since i promise it’s saturated all throughout, but i also won’t Demand it or anything & i’m always happy to explain these details! i like being able to be straightforward and clear about what exactly i’m exploring with him.

i’ll get TSP out of the way since it’s completed: i had him start medically transitioning, but not change any terminology or even how he thinks of himself. he just wanted his body and face to be softer, to feel healthier physically, and it helps! it’s sort of a reward to himself for surviving past where he didn’t think he would, and it’s very peaceful.

PBR is where i’m exploring his gender with a lot more depth and complexity than i got to in TSP because it actually involves him being in romantic and sexual relationships that open up doors to express things that never became relevant, because he didn’t get to a point where he HAD that kind of relationship with jon in that story. 

they’re just not compatible in a sexual way! and that’s OKAY. even jonny said in a recent Q&A, the reason they worked so well as friends in canon IS because they only met the once, but there are definitely other universes where they could be excellent in a long term way, even without that particular need intersecting.

(take I’ve Got His Number From The Great Beyond for example! also read it right now immediately! there’s gerry gender in there AND unbearable amounts of love and connection between jon and gerry that rekindled my love for them after a while of dampened zeal. everybody say “thank you aster!”)

so, in PBR, gerry started hormones with sasha’s help (she helped him get them grey-market, because it’s not always possible to go through a doctor, especially in the UK) and celebrated his first dose with the archives team, but he hasn’t asked them to change how they refer to him or treat him gender wise yet/may not ever. 

it’s more or less concentrated to private moments with tim, or letting tim refer to him with alternating he/him and she/her when talking to their friends. particularly sasha, due to her close involvement in even getting this part of gerry’s life off the ground & being such a major presence in tim’s life, too.

the way i’ve been having gerry use them in his own POV bits has really only been as he’s remembering intimate moments with tim while they’re separated and he’s struggling with something, kind of... zooming in on times he’s at his happiest and feeling the most like himself, like he can trust people.

and for tim, i also have him do that! he uses he/him for the most part, but in the latest chapter, when he thinks back to moments where they’re particularly soft and usually being sexually intimate, or if it has something to do directly with gerry’s transition, he’ll alternate between he/him and she/her within the same sentence. he thinks back on it this way out of respect, effort, and absolute affection.

(at the juncture in the story when i originally wrote this response, it’s tied back to his developing chest & how much it’s going to literally Hurt for a year but tim really wants to be able to show love to that part of him, too, and so he helps rub lidocaine on his nips when they get really painful. candid tenderness is my middle name. as things progressed, it’s revealed that tim uses she/her exclusively within a scene they’re doing together.)

for both of them, it’s almost ALWAYS tied to a sense of longing! for closeness, for things to just be okay between them, for being able to just. be at their most vulnerable with someone who they know is also laying themselves bare, in any sense of the word.

so, that kind of means that for gerry it’s an expression of, like... 

“this is something i have always wanted, but i don’t think the whole world has a right to it. the whole world wouldn’t treat me the way i want to be treated as i embrace this part of myself, and i know that because it has never treated me well. no one has ever seen me the way i want to be seen, and it’s too late for me to even want to change that now.

you treat me well. you already saw me before i told you this. i trust that this part of myself is safe in your mouth.”

and tim is pretty blown away by that! that’s the sort of thing that means the most to him, being trusted to safeguard someone’s vulnerabilities and the things they’re most selective about sharing. it makes him feel important and valued and that’s something he really needs out of a partnership that’s intended to last.

gerry honestly isn’t Planning to work himself up to a point where he can just have Everyone call him different pronouns or refer to him differently in general. he’s a private person by nature and nurture, and already this is beyond any of his wildest dreams. he likes the idea of saving it for behind closed doors, for a very small selection of people, because it means he has enough going for him now that he can even make that choice. he doesn’t just have one person, he has more than that! he doesn’t have to pick just one thing, one way to be, and certainly nothing linear.

he likes getting to be different in different peoples’ eyes. for him, his transition has more value as something that he keeps contained! across the board, he’s still going to identify himself as a gay man before he even identifies himself as trans at all, because him being a man is what defines his transness.

06. accessibility feedback!

okay quick thing! since i think that’s what you were going for here bit it may have backfired a little bit. no harm done! but for future reference since even i had a bit of trouble reading this the first few times.

i’d suggest being, like, more sparing with your bolding & try to read your messages out loud to see where the emphasis falls so that you can use it to highlight the most important things and break it up only a little bit. this is kind of jumbled and makes the eyes kinda bounce all over the place. definitely keep it narrowed in when you do stuff like this, especially since the message was pretty short!

here’s an example of how i might have formatted this one if i thought it was necessary:

I have a question re: transfem Gerry. So, I'm all over this like syrup on pancakes, it's delicious, it's good, it's gender envy, it's just.. ugh, I Cannot get enough of it. My question is, how does Gerry, being a transfem gay man in your HC, respond to the concept of "being one of the boys". Would he feel.. uncomfortable? Okay with it? Is his relationship to his manhood similar to that of "I am a man, but only conveniently"? Kind of like how some afab nonbinary people still kind of have that "older sister"/"eldest daughter" relationship to gender, even if they don't feel connected to womanhood or gender at all, is that similar to how your Gerry feels?

You mentioned Gerry uses she/her in intimate moments, and while I know that pronouns ≠ gender, ofc, how do you see Gerry experiencing gender in those specific moments? (I haven't read all your fics yet so these may be questions answered in those. If so, I'll gladly read along and find out, but I'm just transfixed on transfem Gerry and I want to Behold.)

only two bolded bits, if at all! honestly, it was clear enough that you could have gone without, too. the most important/helpful thing would have been the line break, which usually isn’t a big deal in asks if formatting isn’t an option, but since you bolded i’m figuring that it is. i just thought i’d let you know since you clearly seem to care about this and i appreciate the effort.

thank you again for this ask! i actually discovered some things about how to articulate how i portray his gender that i hadn’t been able to put into words before, and this made me really happy.

[jimlingss]

Dynasty

➜ Words: 17.4k

➜ Genres: 50% Angst, 35% Smut, 15% Fluff, Historical!AU

➜ Summary: It’s no secret that the Emperor is infertile. But even so, a girl is selected every three months and brought to become his concubine in hopes of conceiving the next heir. This time, it’s you. And in order to prevent execution, Jeon Jungkook might just aid you in conception.

➜ Notes: Inspired by the movie the Treacherous (2015)

➜ Warnings: Brief depictions of reluctant sexual intercourse, dubious consent, emphasis on impregnation, sloppy seconds, creampies, pregnancy. Reader discretion is advised.

“Absolutely not!” 

You stand at once, chair knocked back to the ground in a clatter, unable to believe what you were hearing. Perhaps it was a mistake. Perhaps your ears hear wrongly. But by the way your older brother’s brows are drawn together, marring his usually good-natured features, you know you’re not mistaken.    He had worn the same expression as the day of your parents' massacre.   Your voice is shrill as you protest and cry, “I won’t! I can’t! T-This— this is ridiculous! How could you even….how could you even….”   You are Seokjin’s younger sister — his blood, flesh, bones. Family. And you were about to be traded in like you were no one to him. A chess piece. A part of his bigger plan that you wanted nothing to do with.   Jungkook looks at you with an impassive expression, one you cannot read, but you pay him no mind. Seokjin, however, looks to him and nods his head. They are silent in their communication, and then Jungkook takes his leave until there it is only your shadow and Seokjin’s that flickers against the wall with every movement of the dim candlelight.   He begins with a soft voice. A soothing one as if you were a child.    “There’s no choice, Y/N.”   “There is always choice,” you emphasize as tears start to stream down your cheeks. “Do you really want to send me off to that...that disgusting monster? Do you really want me to be used? If you care about me as a younger sister, if you care about me at all, you wouldn’t be doing this.”   His dark eyes meet yours. “The decision has been made, Y/N. You have been chosen. But this is the way we can make our parents happy. This is the only way for them to reach peace.”   You sob, collapsing onto the ground. Seokjin does little to comfort you. He knows there’s nothing he can do after this betrayal.   You hold your face in your hands, catching the tears that rack through your frame. It is silent except for the noises of your wails muffled through your sleeves.    After minutes of devastation and grief that stutters out of you, your hands drop to look at him. And your voice swoops into a murmur, one that is private, kept between the two of you. You beg for his honesty from sibling to sibling, without duties or titles. “Is...is t-there no other way?”   Your brother deflates, refusing to look at you. You notice the way his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat, how he swallows hard to answer. “There must always be sacrifices made in times of a revolution and this is ours.”   “No.” You shake your head. “This is mine.”

There is a knock at your door.   “Go away, Seokjin,” you shout at him without regard for sibling hierarchy. In your anger, he has long lost the respect that goes along with the status of being your older brother. “I said I wasn’t hungry!”   But in spite of your bitterness, the door opens anyhow.   It’s Jungkook who has appeared in place of Seokjin, doe eyes and dark hair tied into a high ponytail by a black ribbon that matches his robbed attire and the scabbard by his side.   “I saw the light in your room,” he says simply.   You lift your eyes away from the book you were copying, the last task that you wanted to finish, and your gaze remains cold on the man.    You detest Jungkook.    He is Seokjin’s friend, not yours and not a childhood one. Your brother had met him shortly after arriving in this town years ago. But you do not know him well. You resent him merely because he represents every manner that Seokjin has changed in the ways you hate most.   Before they met, Seokjin was still the brother you knew. Kind-hearted. Mischievous. Protective. There was no rebellion group, talk of treason, risk of harm. The Seokjin you knew would’ve never thrown you away like this.   “Are you ready for tomorrow’s journey,” he asks.   “There’s no reason not to be.” Jungkook is quiet and conniving. You know the only reason he has come out of his way to check on your well-being in the middle of the night is for his assumption that you are a flight risk. You suppose it might be natural to have those suspicions. Any girl in your position would run. But you quickly dissipate his worries if it means he’ll leave. “You don’t need to worry that I’m going to run. I wouldn’t do that to Jin.”   He makes no changes in his expression. Always blank. Always emotionless.   “The journey will be long. You should get some rest.”   “I can take care of myself.”   He remains silent for a moment. But you return to your work and when you look up again, he’s gone, having finally left you in your own misery.   //   When the first blush of dawn arrives, you get dressed in your best attire and gather the little belongings you have. They’re already waiting for you in front of the house, not allowing you a moment to yourself to relish in freedom any longer. There is a horse, a carriage, and four members of the group you don’t recognize along with Jungkook to journey with you.   Seokjin waits there too, but you can’t look him in the eye.   He knows you're upset, you can tell. Neither of you say much to each other, but you mutter a half-hearted farewell.   You can hear the way the corner of his mouth gently quirks by the sound of his voice. “I’ll see you soon enough, Y/N.”   You turn away, walking to your carriage where the horse is already neighing and becoming fussy. But then your steps slow. You hesitate getting in and Jungkook stares at you, waiting patiently, never once pushing you on.   At once, you turn around. “Jin!”   You call out to your brother and he turns around before stumbling. A giggle streams out of his chest after you’ve thrown yourself at him in an embrace as if you were still children. He hugs you back, arms around your body, frame overtaking yours, and he squeezes you tight.   You shut your eyes to savour the fleeting moment.   He leans down, murmuring, “I’m sorry.”   But you shake your head, unable to utter a word for fear of crying again.   “We should get a move on before it gets any later,” one of the members calls out and it’s your reminder of where you’re headed.   You pull apart from Seokjin. He smiles tenderly and brushes a stray strand of hair away from your face.   The carriage ride is shaky. Every bump and crack of the dirt road is felt by you ten folds, the wheels wobbling and the horse’s disregard makes it difficult for you to rest easy. But you don’t dare utter a complaint, not when you’re in the company of unfamiliar people. You do, however, pull back the curtain of the square window to look at the land and let in fresh air.   Eventually, there’s a break called. The tiny carriage comes to a halt and Jungkook is the one who brushes open the large curtain. He catches you off guard, peering in with his large eyes that seemingly sparkle naturally.   “We’re going to take a small rest.”   “Okay.”   He helps guide you out and you notice the other people are either on the ground resting their feet or by the stream, taking a drink of water.   “Are you alright?”   You nod. There’s a moment of serene quietness, the birds chirping around the trees, the rustling of leaves. Jungkook drinks from his leather pouch and then hands it to you to quench your thirst.   You sip it, soothing your throat and gather the courage to utter his name— “Jungkook.” He turns to you. “Do you know what’s going to happen to me?”   “You’ll be introduced as one of the minister’s nieces. He’s been aligned with us for years. You’ll be inspected and bathed, and then there will be a ceremony and then….”   “I’ll be bedded,” you complete his sentence for him.   Jungkook remains silent.   The Emperor is infertile. It’s a truth no one dares to utter, but it’s been fifteen years since he began his reign and he has yet to produce a child no matter how many consorts and concubines has entered the palace. The Empress has not bore a child either.   And nine years ago, there was an official decree. Every three months since, a girl is selected and brought in. If she doesn’t get pregnant within the time frame, she is executed for failing to fulfill her duty, for treason.   You are the next one.   The one who has to preoccupy the Emperor to the best of your abilities.   “You don’t need to worry,” Jungkook says, perhaps reading the expression on your face, but you slap his hand away when he reaches out.   “Of course I’ll worry,” you spit at him in animosity. “I’m going to die.”   The man’s brows draw tightly together, his lips lopsided. “It’ll be over before they can get to you.”   You say nothing more, returning to the small carriage before you can start to sob like a child and further be humiliated.   //   Night falls and camp is set up with little hardships. By the afternoon of tomorrow, you would have already arrived at the palace, perhaps straight to the Emperor’s bed. The thought makes you nauseated, wanting to crawl out of your own skin and hide from your body.   You know you’re being selfish. In the bigger picture, your desires don’t matter. If anything, you should be happy to give yourself up for the rebellion. For the common good. But you can’t.    “Are you not going to eat?” one of the female guards asks you with a smile and you lift your eyes away from the blazing fire whose heat has pressed against your cheeks.    You look around to the four members of the group that has been commissioned to protect you, their faces illuminated by the glow of the flames. You wonder what sacrifices they had made to be here, what led them here in the first place.   “I-I can’t.” You stand up and all of their heads, including Jungkook’s, turn to you. “I’m sorry. I….I need a moment to myself.”   You quicken your pace towards the forest, trying to escape their prying gazes, the burden that has been placed upon your shoulders. It’s hard to breathe. It’s as if the smog of the fire has bloomed inside of your lungs, constricting your chest, forming a thick lump in your throat.   The darkness of the forest envelopes you and it’s almost comforting.   That is until there’s a branch snapping behind you, and you quickly spin around.   “I knew you weren’t okay.”   “Go away, Jungkook.”   He remains silent, but you can see the outline of him coming closer towards you. He is not dissuaded no matter how much you have pushed him away from you, no matter how rude you’ve been to him from the start. You’re not sure if he pities you or he—   “Can I comfort you in place of Seokjin?” Jungkook requests in an earnest murmur, humble and cautious. “You wish he was here instead of me, don’t you?”   You’re taken aback, brought to speechlessness.   The two of you end up seated by the creek on a wooden log. The horizon is full of stars, allowing you to see enough to watch the water that rushes past in a calm hum, soothing your turmoil.   “I’m afraid.”   “Of what?”   “I don’t know what to do. How to capture the Emperor’s attention. How to be...bedded.”   “You need to be strong.”   You rise to your feet at once, biting back angrily, “I’ve never even been touched by a man! How am I supposed to be strong?!” It’s easy for him to say. It always is to the outsider.   He doesn’t know what this means to you. You’ll never be able to find a husband after this. The peaceful life you dreamt of will be gone.    You will forever be stained as the Emperor’s previous consort, his whore or you will end up dead.    You’re not sure which is worse.   “How am I supposed to know what to do?” Your voice is shrill, desperate and full of pain as if you are asking Jungkook for an actual answer to your predicament.   Jungkook stands and places his firm hand on your shoulder. “There,” he says after a moment when you’ve calmed down, “you’ve been touched by a man.”   Irritation surges through you again at how lightly he’s taken your strife. “You know that’s not what I meant—”   Then you’re suddenly spun to face him, a strong grip at your waist. Your words become muted through the soft press of Jungkook’s lips. Your whimper is muffled by his mouth. It’s chaste. Careful. He allows you room to breathe, to feel the velvet texture of his lips or to pull away if you so choose to.    But you don’t move. Your eyes become half-lidded, gazing into his doe eyes that seem to be full of stars. Your hands come to grip his broad shoulder, his placed on the dips of your body so gently as if he were afraid to break you. And your heart swells dangerously inside your chest.   After a moment of his mouth moving against yours in a sweet kiss, Jungkook pulls apart.   Almost immediately, you tug him back to you again, not wanting the moment to end. You kiss him fervently and he lowly hums inside his chest, tongue peeking at the seam of your mouth, urging you to grant him access. It’s unsightly, the two of you unmarried and holding one another so intimately in the dark during this time of night. If anyone knew, it would be shameful.    But it’s only you and Jungkook in this small space.   Your lips part, allowing his hot tongue to lick into your mouth. And he angles his head, happily deepening the kiss. It makes you gasp for air, becoming breathless, but he doesn’t relent. Jungkook presses forward eagerly like he can’t help himself anymore. His hands come to feel up your body, the softness of your flesh through your clothing, the curves of your hips, the swell of your breasts. Your arms loop around his neck, back arching into his firm body. You relish in the sound of soft smacking filling the forest, feeling your face heat as his scent surrounds you.   And when you moan his name again in a desperate whine — “J-Jungkook.” — his lips start to trail down your jaw to your neck. He holds you as you lean into him. You pant, chest rising and falling, and you have half a mind to realize that your clothes have loosened.   The man begins to suck a spot at the juncture of your neck by your exposed collarbone, claiming you possessively. Your entire body heats for him, your stomach fluttering. His name befalls your lips again in a whine and this time, it seems to snap him from his trance.   Jungkook pulls away from you.    Enough distance that if your arms stretched, it would barely be able to reach him.   He wipes his sweat off his forehead with his sleeve. “We...we should go back,” he says, winded.   You merely nod, not uttering a single word. The two of you don’t need to speak to know that this can’t be continued further. It wouldn’t be good for either of you.   But you’re still stunned as you follow him back to where the others are. Your eyes trace Jungkook’s backside and you nibble into your swollen lips. The taste of cinnamon lingers.   //   The capital is close — you can tell by the way travelers aren’t as sparse and the rich attire that adorns their body. Their expressions are bright and friendly, innocent from the fear of theft or strangers stealing their food. There are no hollowed eyes and cheeks peering at you blankly, no hands clasped together to silently beg for some grains to satisfy the shriveling stomachs.   By afternoon, the carriage is brought to a halt again.   “I’ll be going ahead first,” Jungkook announces as he sits on top of his horse. “It’ll seem less suspicious.”   The other seem to take little issue, but before Jungkook rides off into the distance, his gaze lingers on you. The two of you stare at one another for a moment, one where you’re not sure if you should bid farewell to him or not, one where you wonder when the next time is going to be.   But before you can utter a single syllable, he turns and whips the reins. The horse gallops off, hooves marked in the dirt. You stare at his backside diminishing before you’re called back into the carriage to carry on.   You arrive no later.   The palace is grander than anything you’ve ever witnessed, stretching across the horizon. The red roof and golden trim are vivid against the town even from the distance. Once the guards at the stone wall are briefly spoken to, the magnificent gates creak open and you’re brought into a different world, one protected from outside life. There are hundreds of servants with downcast heads and folded hands scattering across the vast courtyard, winding pavilion paths bordering each structure. Even from peering out the tiny window, your neck aches with how much you have to crane your neck to see it all.    But you quickly snap out of your awe.   This isn't paradise. It’s your prison.   The gates close behind you, trapping you in its walls and after a minute, the carriage halts the final time.   “Consort Y/N, from the Park family.” Your title is declared and the curtain is roughly pulled back. You brace yourself as you’re guided out and you come face to face with two men, both middle-aged, and two women, the younger one keeping her head down and her hands folded.   Instantly, you lower your eyes with a polite smile and dip down. “It is a pleasure to be here. I am grateful to serve my duty.”    You maintain a soft-spoken voice, barely above a timid whisper. It feels foreign to act this way, but not completely unfamiliar. Even if your title has been stripped away and your family name has been wiped, you still are of aristocratic blood.   “Oh my! I haven’t seen you in so long!” One of the middle-aged men approaches you with half-moon eyes and a plump face. You’ve been spoken to enough that you know the minister’s name is Park Jimin and he’s supposed to be your uncle. “You’ve grown so much!”   “You look as healthy as I remember, uncle.” You offer a brighter smile and he chuckles heartily.   “Do I? I’m glad then. I think I’ve packed on a few pounds since your mother last saw me, but don’t tell her that or she may send me some more medication.”   In the midst of the lighthearted conversation, you realize that you’re being scrutinized by the other man. His hair is as dark as his eyes, gruff around his mouth and chin but his features are sharp. He stands with his chin high, his spine straightened, his arms behind his back. His robes are a deep violet, silks luxurious and commanding attention. You’ve seen him before.   Jung Hoseok. The man who has stood in your family’s courtyard with the same posture as each member was brought out and executed. You had witnessed it from the gaps of the weaved basket that you were hidden in until Seokjin covered your eyes with his small hands. It was fifteen years ago, when you were merely five. But you still remember the iron stench of blood well.    The memory and his boring gaze makes you break into a sweat. It’s as if he’s tearing you apart limb by limb, trying to read your intentions and consider if you’re a threat. Fear drains blood from your face. And perhaps he notices because a moment later, he hums and smirks.   “Let’s not waste all day here.” Hoseok turns away. “Minister Park, there are many matters to attend to. Your greetings can continue later.”   “O-Of course.”   Hoseok glances at the older woman standing beside him and she nods, addressing you, “Come with me.”   “From now on, you are to serve the Emperor. I am going to assume that the Park family has taught you proper etiquette.” The head servant lady continues walking and you struggle to keep up with her and the servant. You don’t glance at the members who took you here as they retreat appropriately. From now on, you’re on your own. “If you step out of line, there is little anyone will be able to do for you. The Empress is difficult to please, but as long as you do what you’re told and say nothing more, then your time will be more pleasant.”   You’re brought into a room with two more female servants and the door is quickly slid shut.    “Strip.”   “P-Pardon me?”   The lady huffs in annoyance and steps forward. Her hands reach out and she begins to tug the ribbons of your clothes. You’re startled, immediately stumbling back out of her grasp. “I-I can do it.”   “You should get used to it,” she says as you shed your outer and inner coat. “There’s no point in being embarrassed anymore.”   Still, your fingers are slow to remove your clothing. After a moment, you’ve rid of your clothes, only keeping your modesty by the last thin white layer that hides your breasts and naked torso from plain view.   It seems to be enough and the woman begins to inspect your skin. She rounds you, examining you from head to toe. Then she holds your arm, lifting them at every angle, making sure there are no wounds or rashes that could infect the Emperor. Her eyes, however, eventually fall to your neck. Right at the spot where you remember Jungkook kissed you hard enough to bruise and your face heats at the memory.    “I was accidentally bitten by a bug yesterday on my way here,” you murmur to explain the subtle lilac stain. “I apologize for being so careless.”   “Nothing that won’t fade then,” she states and you breathe a silent sigh of relief. But then the woman suddenly grabs a hold of your cheeks in one hand. She tilts your head to look up into her eyes and she studies your face carefully. She hums after a moment and lets you go.   You blink at her. “Is there something wrong?”   “You’re one of the prettier ones, that’s all.” The woman speaks softly as if it’s a shame — a shame that you’ve been brought here as the Emperor’s consort and that you couldn’t be wedded properly. You’re unable to dwell on her pity when the other girls take you by the arms and guide you to follow the woman when she walks off. The door slides open into an adjacent bedroom. “You’re going to be washed, cleaned, thoroughly. There’s not much time. You must be prepared for tonight.”   Your feet stop, blood running cold. “Tonight?”   The lady turns around, her gaze more sympathetic than before. “There’s no time to be wasted.”   You’re taken roughly, bathed in milky water with flowers plucked from the royal garden and rigorously scrubbed by two other servant girls until your own skin feels raw. Your nails are trimmed, hair combed before being looped and braided into a half-updo, holding golden hairpins that you would’ve never dreamed of ever having. The robes that are slid on you are soft silks, a light blush pink that matches the peony flowers your mother once had in her own garden. And your lips are pressed with red pigment, eyes lined, cheeks dusted with a rosy shade.   When they’re finished, you don’t recognize the person you see in the mirror.   “The Emperor isn’t difficult to please, but one must know not to step out of line.”   “I understand.”   “All hail Empress Soojin!” There’s a clamour outside and the doors abruptly open. Instantly, the servants, including the head servant woman, sweep back and fold their hands together, bowing their heads. You also look to the ground, dipping down in the presence of the Empress.   “You must be the new girl. Lift your head,” she says and you come to meet cat-eyes narrowed in on you. The Empress is dressed in crimson robes with golden swirls, her dark hair in an updo with pins and luxurious decorations. But she is not worthy of her title from her clothing alone. Her aura is intimidating, her expression unyielding to anyone in the room. She carries herself like she knows she was born of importance, that the mandate of Heaven resides on her shoulders.   Empress Soojin looks at you with a scrutinizing eye that makes you fearful. But then she smiles.   “What’s your name?”   “Park Y/N, Your Majesty.”   “What do your parents do?”   “They are nobles. They have some land in the East. We grow wheat for Your Majesty.” The lies are easy, all part of a narrative that isn’t yours.   Her smiles eases even more. “Do a good job.”   “Yes.”   Empress Soojin is kind — more than what you expected someone in her position to be. You would not know how to feel if you were meeting yet another girl your husband was trying to conceive with. But you’re not foolish enough to be put off guard. You know far better than to fall for her facade.   At the end of the day, she is your enemy. She might poison you or kill you if she so chooses. And you know that your child will also be her child. If you do fall pregnant by some miracle, the baby would be taken away from you and given to her. To grow with her. To call her mother.   But you don’t dwell on these thoughts or let it be known.    Empress Soojin leaves once she’s satisfied with your appearance and a veil is put over you as the sun starts to dip over the horizon. The ceremony is about to begin, the jovial music already playing in the distance and muffled through the walls.    “It’s time.”   You’re led out of the room, lugging your heavy robes with you. But as you look up, your breath hitches in your throat.    Doe eyes stare into yours past the translucent veil.    Jungkook is dressed in navy robes with the royal emblem on it, his hair brought into a ponytail with a sheathed sword by his side. Something lodges into your throat. But you try not to let your eyes linger too long on him. After all, here he isn’t your brother’s friend or the companion on your journey. Jungkook is the Emperor’s guard. You are merely the Emperor’s new consort.   “I’m here to escort you by the Emperor’s orders.”   You don’t speak a word as you walk alongside him. Neither does he.   But when no one’s watching, you steal a glance at Jungkook from the corner of your eye and find that he’s peeking at you too.   The moment is too short.   The throne room is grandiose, golden pillars spiraling upwards to hold the high ceilings. The room is full of ministers sitting by and eating, young girls dancing to the deafening beat of the drums and the melody of the flutes. But even from the distance, you can see the Emperor seated at the throne beside the Empress and Jung Hoseok who stands to his right.    Your hand tightens into a fist until your nails have sunk into your palm.   “All hail Consort Y/N!”   You come to the bottom of the steps where Jungkook leaves you, resuming to the side of the stairs, and you lower yourself on your knees. “It is my honour to serve you, Your Majesty.”   Your expression remains impassive, demure perhaps. But inside you, the rage ignites.   Emperor Minseok who stood by and did nothing as the Kim Family, your family, was massacred. Left behind two children on accident to fend for themselves. Left the nation to soil as he was kept inside ravishing young girls and indulging in pleasures.    He isn’t an Emperor. He does not have the Mandate of Heaven.    He is a puppet.   Emperor Minseok’s eyes light. He scrambles upwards and pushes Empress Soojin aside, making her wince. But he still moves past her to sprint down the stairs and comes to you like a child getting a new toy.   Instantaneously, your veil is thrown off.   The child-like man gasps in excitement. “You’re pretty!”   Hoseok, the person you know well as the mastermind orchestrating the entire court and country, the king’s personal advisor, approaches with a smile. “I am glad you are satisfied with the new girl, Your Majesty. But you must show restraint.”   The Emperor enthusiastically nods, but still takes your hand. He pulls you up the stairs and leads you to sit on the other side of him, something the Empress is visibly mortified at in spite of staying quiet.    “Continue the celebration,” he announces and the music commences once more with the pleasant laughter of the ministers. Minister Park has a twinkle in his smile and slightly raises his cup towards you before taking a sip. Jungkook, on the other hand, faces forward with a blank expression as if he were a statue. “What’s your name?”   Your eyes tear away from the doe-eyed man. “My name is Y/N. I am Park Minister’s niece, sire.”   There’s no reason to hide your first given name. It’s not like they would know who you and Seokjin are.   The ceremony and dancing continues, held as an excuse to welcome you and give fortune to tonight’s conception. In reality, it’s for those in the court to indulge themselves. The Emperor fawns over you the entire time, asking many questions and trying to get you to eat to which you force yourself to swallow down the food. You’re nauseated, especially with the times he touches you, when he wraps his arm around your shoulder and pulls you into his chest, but you retain a shy disposition to not arouse suspicion of your true feelings.   It ends much too soon.   “His Majesty will be here shortly,” the servant informs you as you’re brought into the bedroom and before you can get in another word, the doors shut.   They’re listening — you know they are. Maybe other girls have run before you, tried to flee while they still had the chance. But no matter how strong the urge is, your feet stay rooted into the ground.    The bed is revolting to look at. The golden sheets that seem to reek of a luxury that you have never known and now imprison you. You feel sick, like you might throw up, but you hold it in.   Your eyes shut tight, trying to regain control of your breath, trying to dispel away your worries.   It will be quick. It will be over. It won’t change anything about who you are. You will survive.   This is something you must do.   The doors open with Emperor Minseok drunkenly stumbling inside after grabbing a hold of the door frame. He haphazardly slides it shuts and giggles once his gaze has set upon you. You swallow hard, moving back on instinct. He grins and bumbles forward.   “You’re so pretty, huh?” He strips off his overcoat and you fall to the bed, silently seated and gripping the edge. “C’mon, you can say something. Won’t scare you away, kitty cat.”   Emperor Minseok pushes you back and climbs over you with the carelessness of an eager but intoxicated man. He stinks of alcohol and you hold your breath, looking away. He snickers and then frantically pushes the many layers of your dress up as if he doesn’t want to waste any more time.   Your teeth sink into your bottom lip, but you comply, like a dead fish against the sheets. Your eyes shut tight and you think about what it means to make sacrifices...   The Emperor tugs his drawers down in one swoop and aligns his cock against your folds. His hips at once jut forward without warning and your teeth grit, holding in your pained whimper as he enters into you. It burns, aching to the point where your eyes are stinging. He groans above you, withdraws, thrusts into you once and then he’s coming.   As quick as five seconds.    The Emperor groans, eyes shut tight, and then he collapses on top of you.   It takes a moment, for you to gasp for air, to come back to your senses and then you’re shoving the sweaty man off of your body, freeing yourself of his heavy weight. Emperor Minseok snores, already worn himself out, and you curse at him silently while you pull the layers of your dress down.   It’s tempting.   You want to kill him — and it would be easy to do so. But it would mean your death, Seokjin’s everlasting grief over it and the likelihood that someone else will become Jung Hoseok’s puppet.   So you gather your wits and slide off the bed until you’re seated on the floor.   //   In the middle of the night, there’s a shadow at the doorway and a soft murmur of your name.   You grab a loose silk cover to wrap your body and open the door. The candle has long been blown out but you haven’t slept, stayed on the ground while the Emperor snorts in his slumber. You hadn’t expected to see anyone, not until morning at least, but it’s surprising to see Jungkook.   Although you’re not sure if that surprise is pleasant or not.   “What are you doing here?” you ask in a hushed tone, shutting the door behind you and wrapping your arms around your torso, away from the cold wind that brushes through.   If anyone saw him here, it could ruin everything.    You don’t know why someone like Jungkook would take that risk.   “I know. I just…” The more you allow your eyes to adjust to the darkness, the better you are at being able to discern the furrow of his brows and the way it mars his expression. “How...how was it?”   “How was it?” you spit at him. “What do you think?”   There’s a held silence. Neither of you speak.    But the moment anger surges through you, the upheaval follows.    Against your will, sobs begin to break through your frame. As intense as the day Seokjin delivered the news that you would have to do this. And the memories burst through, catching up to you.   It would have been fine if you were alone.   If you could pretend that it wasn’t bad, that it meant nothing. But the earnestly spoken question from Jungkook has brought forth the truth that you had so desperately tried to push away.   You cry, tears shedding down your face as you hold your face in your hands. You are oblivious to the way Jungkook’s fingers twitch, how his hands reach out, how he hesitates. But then he embraces you, pressing your face against his shoulder, his arms around your waist.   You grab onto him, latching on as if he is the only thing that grounds you to this insanity. You muffle your sobs, trying to keep them quiet before you’re found. You wish this was Seokjin.   But it’s Jungkook.   “I had a younger sister,” he tells you suddenly, calming your hiccups as he cradles you against him. “Her name was Jieun. She was brought in, just like you. Five years ago. She was taken in by force. All because she caught the eye of the Emperor.”   You pull away from him and he wipes a tear off your cheek, holding your face within his hands.   You didn’t know. Frankly, you don’t know anything about Jungkook, but to hear him tell you, for him to openly share is something you don’t take lightly. “W-What happened to her?”   “She was always weak and they mistook her sickness for pregnancy. When they found out she wasn’t, they hung her for supposedly losing the baby.” His whispers are quiet, but they carry a grief that you can barely understand. Jungkook’s eyes connect within yours.    Finally, you begin to understand. Why he started this, why he’s come here.    “I don’t want something like that to happen again. I’ll do everything in my power to keep it from happening to you.”   You nod.   He didn’t need to come see you tonight. But you’re thankful he did.   //   “All hail Empress Soojin!”   The doors open with a parade of servants following the female who holds up her dress, entering through the doorway. You meet her halfway, head dipped and hands folded with a demure smile. Her eyes are narrowed in on you and you pay no mind when her servants begin to inspect the place, examining the bed sheets and any other evidence of last night’s affair.   “Good morning, Your Majesty.”   “How are you?” Her gaze sweeps across your body, lingering on your stomach.   “It was fine.”   The Empress lifts her hand and two more servants enter with a tray of food. They start to arrange the breakfast on the table. “You might be carrying a child, so it will be important to nourish yourself.”   You look at the dishes with a sense of queasiness. The last thing you want is food — you don’t think you could contain it in your stomach if you tried. And there’s a fear in your mind that she’s going to take this opportunity to poison you. You wouldn’t be surprised if she did.   So you dip your head. “If you may pardon me, Your Majesty, I am not feeling hungry.”   “Don’t be foolish.”   “I—”   Your words are choked the moment your head is whipped to the side. Your cheek burns. The Empress’ hand print is embedded into your skin, her arm still raised in the air. Your eyes sting.   Even in your worst moments, you’ve never been slapped. Not by Seokjin. Not even by your parents.   “Her Majesty was kind enough to come here and offer you food but you dare deny her and talk back?” The servant beside her shakes her head in disapproval. “The Park Family has no manners.”   Immediately, you fall to your knees. Your head meets the carpet, right by her feet but she doesn’t see the way your teeth grit. “I apologize for my disrespect.”   Empress Soojin huffs in frustration and there’s a clamour as feet stomp out, making the room silent once more. It’s then that you lift yourself back onto your feet and pour the tonic she gave you into the plant.    You spend the rest of your day in your room after taking a bath, staying out of anyone’s way as you were told to do. But after nightfall, there’s news of Emperor Minseok planning to come see you. So you suppose you must’ve done something right for him to willingly reach out to you.   His body weight is heavy against you, your back molded against the bed.    “You’re very pretty,” he says for the millionth time.   You try to muster a smile, but keep your head tilted to stare at the wall, acting like you are much too shy. “Thank you.”   The Emperor is easily worked up, the very antithesis of control. He enters you and you bare through it, getting used to the action. But Emperor Minseok finishes in a mere three pumps, gripping at your thighs with a groan. He rolls over to sleep and you shove down your skirt.   If you could count the little fortune you have, you’re relieved he’s been too impatient to undress you properly. He’s neither kissed you nor laid a hand to the softest parts of your body.   Not like Jungkook.   //   The palace is unfamiliar. It’s a vast space that stretches across the plane and numerous structures gives room for ministers and servants you will never know the name of. The only person you truly know in these walls is Jungkook. He’s the only person to confide in, but there is little opportunity to see him, even if you long to.   But he comes to you, enough times to make you reassured that he is always there, following in your shadow. Though it’s never enough to fulfill your desires or relieve your yearning.   “What is this?”   You open the envelope he’s passed to you, pulling out the folded parchment. The two of you are hidden in an empty warehouse where supplies and weapons are kept in wooden crates. Grime lays in thick layers, cobwebs collected at the corners, but some specks of dust float in the air, seen by the sunbeams that pierce through the gaps of the planks covering the windows.   Your eyes widen at the familiar writing of the letter and your eyes skim the page to see Seokjin’s signature at the bottom.   The corner of Jungkook’s mouth quirks to see your wide grin.   “H-How did you get it here?”   “We have servants working for us and a communication line coming in and out of the palace. It’s the way we exchange news.”   You nod, reading the letter and the kind words that are so much like Seokjin, encapsulating his personality with every ‘dear sister’. But the sentences are short and the content makes the blood drain from your face. There’s been delays of Seokjin getting into the palace.   They need more time. More than three months.   “There won’t be enough time.” Your hands drop, the letter put at your side. Your eyes lock with Jungkook’s, but he doesn’t seem surprised, as if he already knew. “I’m going to die.”   He doesn’t flinch, expression solemn, unyielding to this devastating news. “I will help you.”    “How?!”   “We’ll give them what they want. You won’t be executed if you’re carrying a child.”   “The Emperor is infertile—!”    But Jungkook isn’t.    And once the implications of his words sinks into you, you turn away to hide from his gaze, your voice shrill. “How could you….how could you even think of that? You’re as cruel as Jin. No one...no one has any regard for me whatsoever. It’s all about the country, the revolution.”   In the midst of your hysteria, he calls you. “Y/N.”   “You want to use me. You want to use my body,” you sob.   “I don’t want you to die,” Jungkook emphasizes and grabs you, spinning you around to look at him again. His hand wraps around your wrist, doe eyes staring into yours. Your breath hitches and it goes silent. “If there’s anything I can do within my control to help you, I will. I don’t want to feel powerless.” Jungkook’s grasp on you tightens, as if he is afraid to let go. “Not anymore.”   You recognize the pain in his eyes. It’s tangible. Earnest.   On instinct, you lean in, pressing your lips against his to console his worries. It’s a soft kiss, one where Jungkook’s nose brushes against yours and his hands lift to cradle your face. You succumb to the itch of having him close to you, giving into your carnal desires and the lust that has lingered in you after the kisses you two shared in the darkness of the forest that one night.   And Jungkook doesn’t hesitate either.    He touches you, fingers gently tugging the ribbons of your attire to slip off the inner coat and many layers they’ve cloaked you in. It’s freeing to be out of the silks. You can finally breathe again, but not for long when Jungkook kisses you until you’re gasping for air and your breath is stained with his.   You grasp at his own clothes, ridding them and his sword clanks to the ground.   His mouth moves from your jaw to the juncture of your neck, traveling down your collarbone and the valley of your breasts. He sucks at your flesh, greedy to mark every inch of it. Even if he doesn’t say it aloud, you can tell through his touches. He doesn’t want to use your body. He wants you.   “Jungkook.” The whine only spurs him on and you hold his head against you, fingers tangling to his hair.   It’s silent, except for the sounds of him kissing against your skin. Heat rises on your face, warming your cheeks. You don’t know how Jungkook can stay so careful and controlled. He never once rushes, giving plenty of opportunities for you to push him away if you so choose to.   But you don’t and he lays you on the soft hay collected in the corner of the warehouse.   You shy away from his attention, your naked body laid in front of him. But then he strips from the rest of his clothes, not letting you be the only one bare. Immediately, Jungkook reaches down to kiss you again, mouth pressed against yours like he has become dependent on your taste.   Jungkook readjusts you, getting you to sit on his lap facing him.   “Is this okay?”   You nod, gripping at his shoulders for leverage. His doe eyes lock into yours.   “Tell me if it hurts.”   “Okay.” Tears fog your vision. You’ve never been treated so gently before, not from a man or woman. While the circumstances are undesirable, bliss still blooms in your chest.    Jungkook licks his thumb and lowers his hand to continue to warm your center. You keen against him with a moan as he plays with your bud, rubbing your clit in circles and watching your expression carefully. Your slick begins to leak to his thighs, but he doesn’t seem to mind.   “J-Jungkook…”   Your eyes are teary, nose reddened from the cold. Jungkook presses his forehead to yours, your breaths laboured together. His cock lays thick in his hand, slit weeping with precum and the two of you look down, watching him align it to your folds.   His hips push up at the same time as you guide yourself down.    Jungkook groans. The pair of you are finally connected.    Strangely enough, it doesn’t hurt. Far from it and the realization makes your cheeks hot to the touch. You’re snug around him, able to feel his head nudging against your cervix.   “A-Are you okay?” he asks and you nod several times fervently.    Instead of answering in words, you close the distance with another searing kiss.    Soft smacking fills the room with his tongue licking into your mouth. Jungkook’s arms wrap around your waist, guiding you up and down your length while he meets you halfway. Your moans are muffled, his chest pressed against yours and you begin to sweat at your hairline.   You break apart.   “Jung—ko...ok.”   “Hmm?” He brushes a strand of hair away from your face.   “Harder,” you whisper so quietly that you can't hear yourself. He blinks at you, not understanding and you throw away your pride, knowing that there’s no reason to be ashamed when you’re with him. “H-Harder, please. I’m not fragile.”   The corner of his mouth quirks into a small smile, “Okay.”   Soon, indecent noises of pounding fills the room. You hug one another, keeping each other grounded with your bodies. Your arms are wrapped around his shoulders, your whines stifled against his warm skin. Jungkook tries to catch his breath, a cold cloud emitting from his parted lips.   It feels good. To have your warm and wet heat filled by Jungkook. To be stretched by him and feel him all the way to your throat. To have him so close to you. The pleasure is overwhelming.   Your slick coats his length, dripping down and making it messy where his thighs hits against your behind. It feels like you’re scratching an itch as you ride him, your cunt being bruised against his force. Pleasure thrums through you, thoughts turned to slush, surrounded in his scent. Your eyes are hazy and you feel feverish. All that befalls from your lips are broken and pitched whines of Jungkook’s name.   It gets sloppy and his strokes start to become short and frenzied in a staccato rhythm.   “J-Jungkook!”   He licks his thumb and rubs against your clit, making you sob out. Then, you come undone. You seize, squeezing around him. Light pierces through your eyelids and your toes curl. Pleasure overwhelms you until you’re spineless. At the same time, Jungkook pants heavily and his hips thrust upwards. A moment later, he’s cumming deep into your sopping cunt. His head is lodged right against the opening of your womb. Thick ropes painting your velvet walls. Hopefully to conceive.   “—Soojin visited the consort the morning after the ceremony.”   “Is that so?”   There are voices from outside and your eyes widen, lips stealing a gasp.   Immediately, Jungkook’s palm raises and cups your mouth. His brows furrow, eyes staying locked into yours and the both of you sit still, staying silent. You turn your heads and through the gaps of the wooden planks covering the window, you can see Hoseok and a minister brushing past.   “She’s never shown favour to any of the consorts.” They stop, right where you and Jungkook are naked, merely separated by a brick wall.   “Perhaps she sees something different from this girl than the others,” Hoseok hums. “Keep an eye on Empress Soojin and tell me if she does anything else out of the ordinary.”   Jungkook’s cum leaks from your center, dripping down his length.   “Yes.”   They finally pass and Jungkook’s hand falls from your mouth, finally taking a sigh of relief. Jungkook removes himself from you but only after he pushes his milky fluid back into you with his brows furrowed in concentration. He tucks his cum past your used fold into your heat.   Once satisfied, he gets up and puts back on his clothes.   You’re still reeling, not sure what to say or if you can even look him in the eye anymore. Part of you feels used. You’ve been passed from one man to the next, always with a purpose, a greater reason that your own desires. But then—   “Are you alright?”   Jungkook is tender, helping you up and brushing a strand of hair away from your face. He helps you get dressed again while you feel his cum drip down your thigh. It’s a reminder of the sins you have just committed together, something worthy of treason.   But it’s something you find yourself not minding doing again.   “I’m fine,” you murmur after you’re dressed again.   Jungkook stares at you silently, his eyes unable to be torn away from you. Then he leans forward as if driven on by sheer instinct. Jungkook’s mouth presses against yours in a sweet kiss. It catches you off guard. And then he parts with downcast eyes. “I’m sorry for doing something unnecessary.”   “It’s okay.” You meet his gaze. “I don’t...mind.”   He nods and you turn before he can see your smile. Your hand press gently against your stomach as hope blossoms through you.

Time passes and maybe the Empress notices that you’ve been smiling more because she asks— “Are you feeling any differences?” — with a careful eye and something akin to anticipation.   “Not yet,” you answer with your head dipped. “But I’m sure it may happen soon.”   The Emperor has been seeing you two times a week. But you’ve been seeing Jungkook every other day.   If the two of you are lucky, one of these days a baby will stick to your womb and neither of you will have to be worried about how doom is impending. You have a feeling though; it’s going to work.   “Empress Soojin has personally ordered a tonic for you,” the head servant says as she enters with a tray and porcelain bowl filled with an amber liquid. “It will increase your fertility.”   Your eyes flicker from her face to the bowl and the servant softens. “Don’t worry. She won’t harm you if there’s a chance you could be carrying her child.”   You trust the woman and you ease your instincts, taking the tonic. And no later are you and Jungkook’s limbs tangled in the old warehouse again, away from prying eyes and ears.   But it’s taking too long.   There isn’t any news of Seokjin’s arrival, no movement from the rebellion group whatsoever and you can tell that Emperor Minseok is losing interest in you.   As you’re passing by the pavilion, you take a brief pause.   The servant behind you also stops, aware that you are watching the way Empress Minseok is drinking and laughing with other women, being served wine as he lies on giggling girls trying to catch his attention. You aren’t jealous, far from it. But you know nothing good will come out of his boredom with you, that it will only speed up your execution date if you are still without child. His favour would prove not only advantageous to you, but to Seokjin and Jungkook.   You’re supposed to preoccupy him after all, keep him distracted.   “All hail Consort Y/N.”   The doors to the Emperor’s chambers open right as the evening sun begins to dip below the horizon. Emperor Minseok is having drinks and some dishes while there are two concubines looped around his arms.   “My beautiful consort!” He calls out to you with a grin, surprise evident on his features.   You muster a smile and dip down. “May I speak to you privately, Your Majesty?”   “Sure, sure.” He bats at the concubines, motioning at them to leave. They bow their heads and scatter out. Once alone, you lift your eyes to lock it into his. “Is there something wrong?”   “I just…” Your smile becomes shy. “...wanted to see you.”   Emperor Minseok bursts out laughing, hearty in his chest and grating to your ears. “You were lonely? Come sit.” He pats at tiny chicken thighs and you hold your breath, complying. You nearly slip off his leg, but his sticky hands are placed on your waist.   His nose digs into your neck and you accidentally flinch.    He notices, brows raising and you swiftly cover up your mistake with a smile. “It’s still...hard for me to have so much attention from you.” You fiddle with your fingers. “I’m not used to it.”   The man grins. “But you still came here.”   “Because I was lonely,” you confirm in a quiet whisper. “The palace is so grand, I don’t really know what to do…”   “It’s magnificent, isn’t it?” he mutters out of the corner of his mouth, clearly not caring about the topic of conversation anymore with the way he stares at you. It’s almost as if he’s entranced by your features and his hand reaches down to slink up your leg.   You abruptly stand and grab his collar, making him rise to his feet too. “The palace is beautiful, especially the gardens. But it’s lonely to go flower viewing by yourself.”   Emperor Minseok cups your cheek. “Then I’ll come with you next time.”   You turn away, out of his grasp. “I could never ask that of Your Majesty. I can’t be selfish and you are always so busy. Actually...I…”   “What is it?”   You duck your head, playing a bashful act. “I try to look at your painting to satisfy my loneliness.”    Emperor Minseok chortles again and you spin around with a tiny pout. You step forward until he’s fallen onto his bed, amused at your boldness. “But it’s hard,” you say as you begin to climb on top of him. “There’s not many paintings of you.”   You position yourself so he’s underneath you. You straddle his hips, a coy smile at your features. “For a grand palace like this, one would think there would be more.”   “You’re right.” The Emperor is breathless, already excited after barely ten seconds. His greedy hands come up to grab your bottom, but you push him off so he doesn’t touch you.   “My father once commissioned a painter,” you murmur as you slowly tug his trousers down. “He was quite immature and eccentric, but his skills are unrivaled with.”   “W-What is his name?” His eyes watch you, pathetically salivating. You wonder if he’s going to cum in his pants already.   “I...think his name was Kang Seokjin,” you lie, quirking your head to the side. You grab his tiny, red cock that looks like it’s about to burst and he groans. “Have you never heard of him? He’s quite infamous in the East.”   “I-I’ve never.”   You hum, tugging your many skirts up and his eyes pin to your exposed skin. “Well, he’s a free-spirit and rarely does paintings, even for people who pay for it. Gold doesn’t buy him. My father had to beg him for weeks and even then he was reluctant.”   He scoffs. “He would never deny the Emperor.”   “Of course.” You align him up to your pink folds. Yet, you linger, putting the crumbling man under you in great suspense. “But…”   Emperor Minseok blinks at you, becoming impatient. “But?”   “You never know till you try, right?”    You drop down like the way Jungkook taught you to. You know better now how to satisfy a man, how to satisfy yourself, what kind of rhythm works best. But it only takes two swivels of your hips and one groan from him until he’s done and finishes. Emperor Minseok has tired himself out and succumbs to the seduction of sleep almost immediately with a smile on his face.    You roll off of him as he starts to snore.   You feel disgusted — skin grimy and crawling, the pit in your stomach growing with queasiness, revolted at what you had to do. But you know bathing and scrubbing your skin until it’s raw won’t be enough to satisfy you. It won’t be enough to cleanse yourself from him. So you leave the Emperor’s chambers as quickly as you came, abandoning the greasy man on the bed and shutting the doors behind you.   In the dark, you hurry as fast as your feet can take you.    You’re out of breath by the time you’ve twisted through the structures and pavilions. But relief comes in the form of a doe-eyed, dark-haired individual. The person you’ve been wanting to run to.   The person you’ve been yearning for.   “What are you doing here?” he scolds sharply, standing as you slide the doors behind you. The candlelight flickers, providing a dim glow on the profile of his face. “What if someone saw you?”   “They didn’t and they won’t.”    The bedroom Jungkook’s stationed in is tiny, a round table and two stools with a large opening for where his bed fits into the wall as if it were built in. But none of it matters to you. You don’t care that he has nothing but a sword and some folded clothes. All you care about is that he’s here.   “And what if you were caught?”   “Every time we do this, we risk getting caught.” You quiet his worries by closing the distance. You cradle his cheeks in your palm and kiss him frantically, sealing your mouth against his.   Jungkook hums to the sweet taste of your lips, licking into your hot mouth, but then he pulls away. “Wait.” His hands secure around your shoulders and he searches your expression after noticing the way your eyes have become teary. “Is there something wrong?”   You shake your head. “I just want you. Is...is that so bad?”   The candle is blown out, flooding the room in a comfortable, intimate darkness. But close up, you can still see Jungkook with the faded moonlight coming through the paper walls.    His back falls against the bed, but Jungkook doesn’t give you a long opportunity to climb and sit above him. He whirls you around until it’s your body that molds against the soft surface of his bed, preferring to take care of you than vice versa. And when he undresses you and sees the sopping mess between your legs, he understands what this is all about.    Why you’re so desperate for his touch.   “Let’s get rid of this,” he murmurs tenderly, not at once hesitating and you nod.    Jungkook kisses you again, deep and earnestly until you’re panting against him and he’s swallowing your exhales. Then his mouth travels downwards, careful this time not to leave a bruising mark against your skin where others could see in spite of longing to mark you. The man’s tongue ends up wrapping around your soft breast, allowing the bud to pebble underneath the warm muscle. You keen into him with a sob, arms wrapped around his neck and he continues mercilessly.   His lips travel down to your stomach and once your skin has gotten warm to the touch, your body writhing against the sheets stained with his scent, he positions you upwards. On his lap. Facing him.   Jungkook brushes away the strands of your hair, tucking it behind your ear and he gently holds your chin, turning your head so your eyes can lock into his. “Look at me,” he pleads in a husky timbre.   You nod and he positions himself at your dripping center, allowing you to drop down when you choose to. And when you do, the two of you groan while keeping your gazes connected.   It feels like he’s filled a void that you didn’t know was there. He’s a snug fit around your velvet heat, stretching just enough that pleasure thrums through you. “J-Jungkook.”   He makes a noise at the back of his throat, understanding what you’re feeling and he leans in for another kiss, his tongue wrapping around yours and drawing more sounds out of you.   The two of you work with each other. Your hips swivel as he pounds upwards into you, pelvises rubbed against one another to clear away Emperor Minseok’s fluids. Jungkook works hard while you squeeze and the cum drips out of you in clumps. It sticks to your thighs and his thick length, drying unpleasantly, but soon it’s only your wetness that comes out from your center.   Jungkook’s hands hold your body, touching you anywhere you guide him to. And you lean onto his sturdy frame, holding onto his built shoulders. Finally, you feel clean. You feel loved.   You kiss him again and his thrusts stutter.   It’s intimate, the sounds of gasping breaths and skin slapping on skin filling the darkness.   Jungkook can tell you’re close and rubs against your clit mercilessly and you cry, quickening your own pace to chase after your pleasure. But before you can finish, he turns your head again.   “Look at me, Y/N,” he says and you nod, teeth sinking into your bottom lip.   You cum while looking into Jungkook’s doe eyes, trying your best to keep them open. And as you squeeze around him, hugging against his cock, he cums. Deep into your heat, right at your cervix. Claiming you as his. Ropes of milky white spurting in then leaking down out of your folds.    All while keeping his tender gaze trained on yours.   You kiss Jungkook again, letting him soften within you, keeping him here just a moment longer.   You love Jungkook. It’s a fact that you don’t want to face in light of the situation — one that you had tried to deny for the sake of your own sanity, but it’s all too true. You love him. And every time he holds you, it feels like you’re making love together. If only things were different, maybe you could’ve had a future together. Maybe you could’ve gotten Seokjin’s blessing and married Jungkook, started a family together and lived a humble life for the rest of your days.   But that desperate and simple wish seems so far out of reach.   Overwhelmed with emotion, you try to keep your tears at bay. Yet, they shed down your cheeks and in the intimate darkness, Jungkook holds you close to him.

It’s one afternoon while you’re walking in the gardens with the poor servant assigned to you following closely behind that you recognize a dark-haired, mischievous individual that you had missed. But you don’t call out to your brother, no matter how much you want to. You keep yourself poised, distant.   “Oh, Consort Y/N. Glad to see you wandering,” the head eunuch, a man you’ve spoken to little, says with a smile.   You keep your head lowered, a tiny smile that is all too genuine on your features. “Empress Soojin said it would be good for my health, so I have followed her instructions.”   “Well yes. Indeed it is.” He grins and then seems to remember the taller, younger man beside him. The head eunuch steps aside and motions towards your older brother. “This is Kang Seokjin. He is a painter from the East that Emperor Minseok has commissioned. Seokjin, this is the Emperor’s most recent consort, Consort Y/N. But I believe you have met before.”   “Only briefly.” You lift your eyes towards your sibling who smiles. “It is nice to see you again.”   “Yes, nice to see you again.” Seokjin’s eyes speak more than his words do and the two of you look at one another for a long moment, exchanging meaningful expressions and taking in the differences that two months have done.   “Well, I must head off now.” You break away the stare, keeping yourself unsuspicious. “It was pleasant to meet your acquaintance again.”   You pass Seokjin, but the two of you look at one another from the corner of your eyes.   He’s finally in the court and a sense of relief fills you. If a few more ministers agree to turn against the Emperor, everything will be complete. It’s Seokjin’s turn to act and now only time will tell.

In the middle of the night when the palace has gone asleep, you sneak from your quarters.   The dirty warehouse has become your sanctuary with Jungkook, a place you’ve grown fond of because it holds your most precious memories. It was this place that you looked forward to the most. That kept you sane. That always promised that your favourite person was waiting inside.    It’s tonight with the full moon out that you get to savour the moment. After the deed has been done, you’re slumped in Jungkook’s arms, naked with just his outer coat around your shoulders.   You take his right hand, uncurling his fingers. Carefully, you trace letters against his warm palm.   “Kim?” Jungkook questions after a moment of concentration.   “Kim means gold,” you murmur and trace more letters against his skin. With your head leaning against his chest, you can hear his soothing heartbeat in your ear. “Seok means great. Jin means precious. Together, it means great gift or big treasure.”   If things were different, you would’ve liked to be a scholar. Transcribing books all day long or writing your own, perhaps creating poetry about nature. As a child, you hated studying and preferred to play like Seokjin did. But it was now that you yearned for those simple times again.   You know Jungkook’s name too and you trace each letter against his palm with your index finger carefully. “Jeon means rice. Jung spindle tree. Kook is country. Together, it means to have a beautiful country.”   “Pillars of the nation,” he clarifies quietly. “Or at least that’s what I think my grandfather intended when he named me.”   “They’re such great names. I hope….the name of our child will be meaningful too,” you hum drowsily while dreaming of the possibilities. “If it’s a boy, Minkook, the country of the people. If it’s a girl, Yujin, meaning full of stars…”    The both of you know you won’t be able to name your child. Not if it’s born within these stone walls. Not when everyone believes it is the Emperor’s. The baby will be taken away from you the moment it’s out, raised while calling the Empress their mother and you would be a nobody.    But then Jungkook dispels away your anguish, even if it’s just for a second. “They’re beautiful names.”   The corner of your lips quirk and you blink sleepily. You tell him about your dream, a memory of the future you have conjured to comfort you, “They would be raised in a quiet home on top of a hill. Where we could see the sunset and sunrise every day. There would be grass where the children could play. A river nearby to wash the clothes too…”   Jungkook’s arms tighten around you and you feel the press of his lips against your temple. “That would be perfect.”   You hum again silently with a smile, falling asleep with Jungkook right beside you. And it’s all you know you can have.   //   Empress Soojin enters your chambers the moment you are doubled over in a copper bowl, the contents of last night’s dinner squeezed painfully from your stomach. The world is on an axis, your head dizzy since you had awoken. But when you realize she’s standing there and taking in your crumpled form, you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand and try to stand.   “Your Majesty…”    The Empress rushes over to steady you, her eyes wide and full of surprise. “You feel nauseous?” Your expression meets hers, your face drained of all blood. The silence speaks for itself. Empress Soojin immediately whirls around to her parade of servants, anticipation etched on her features. “Call the physician!”   No sooner are you laid in the bed with the physician pressing two fingers on your wrist, quiet as he listens to your heartbeat. The Empress is crowding around, her hands gathered together but still trembling. Then the old man lifts his head with brightened eyes.   “She has been with child for two months now. It’s extraordinarily healthy and strong.”   Empress Soojin stumbles back. Her palm is pressed against her chest, her breath staggering out of her parted lips. And you lift yourself, your hand laid on your stomach that has yet to swell.   It’s your child and Jungkook’s.   “From now on, only consume cold foods and make sure it is properly cut or mashed,” he says as he wobbles to his feet. “Avoid shellfish and pineapple too. I will prescribe a herbal tonic that you can take daily.”   “Thank you.” Empress Soojin is grinning and comes to your side to envelop you in a warm embrace that you aren’t used to. “Are you still feeling unwell? Are you hungry? It is important to nourish yourself for this baby.”    When you shake your head, having no appetite, she nods and looks around. “This place is so rancid and dusty.” The Empress spits several servant’s names and they step forth with bowed heads. “Clean this room immediately! We will go on a walk in the meanwhile and get fresh air.”    There is little you can do to deny the whims of the Empress who’s more alive than you’ve ever seen her before. So while your room is cleaned and redecorated with luxurious sheets and golden vases, you’re guided by her on a walk around the garden.   The news spreads like wildfire, passing from servant to servant to official declarations.   Within a few minutes, Emperor Minseok is bounding over. There’s a grin plastered on his sweaty face, the strands of his hair sticking together. He’s out of breath, still in horseback riding gear like he had gotten off a few seconds ago and you recognize Seokjin behind him in the same attire.   “You’re expecting a child?!” Emperor Minseok exclaims loudly, startling you. He’s jumping and you muster a stiff smile, not sure what you should say. But he doesn’t give you an opportunity to. He immediately reaches out to your stomach with his greasy and soot filled hands. “Is it moving?”   But he never lays a hand on you.   Empress Soojin slaps his hand away and her brows furrow sternly. “The child is at a delicate stage. These are not trivial matters.” She pinches her nose. “And the horses’ stench that you’ve brought here is defeating the purpose of coming out here for fresh air.”   “Of course, of course.” Emperor Minseok smiles, retracting his arm.   Your eyes meet Seokjin’s and the corner of his mouth quirks warmly into a familiar smile. “Congratulations, Your Highness. May your child have great blessings as you do.”   You bow your head, trying to not prolong your gaze and arouse suspicion. “Thank you.”   “But…” Emperor Minseok’s eyes flicker between you and the Empress. “Does this mean I will get another concubine soon since I can’t play with Y/N anymore?”   Immediately, Empress Soojin is distraught. Hurt comes across her features as if she’s been slapped and for once, you sympathize with her. She never answers, merely turning around. “We should get you back inside for some rest. It’s not good to be in the cold wind for too long.”   You nod, glancing at your brother behind your shoulder and after a moment, you follow her.   But as you’re making your way back, your path is intercepted by Jungkook on his way to the courtyard. He’s dressed in black robes that match his long hair tied back, holding a sheathed sword as always. Yet what’s different from before is the tenderness of his eyes.   Jungkook doesn’t need to speak for you to understand. You’ve come to learn all the ways he communicates through silence.   “I heard about the news,” he says and you slow to a complete stop. “Congratulations, Your Highness.”   “Thank you.” You savour the moment, looking at him with a soft smile.    To the Empress who turns around to see the delay, the exchange is simply between a guard and consort without connection. She doesn’t know that the meaningful gaze is shared between a mother and father to be, two secret lovers separated by circumstance.   //   There’s many good wishes and felicitations given to you. Even Minister Park, your supposed uncle, makes an extravagant gesture by personally delivering a basket of fresh fruits and vegetables that makes Empress Soojin command the servants to re-wash. But the person you least expect to receive praise and blessings from is Jung Hoseok. In spite of that, he is here in your room, having shown up suddenly.   It’s a surprise and you struggle to get up from your bed.   “Are you alright?” he asks, concerned. “You don’t really need to stand—”   You muster a smile and manage to sit up. “It’s quite alright. I was always taught that the least I can do is greet a guest properly.”   The thin, middle-aged man rubs the gray scruff on his chin and you can feel his sharp eyes that probe into you. The way he studies you carefully would cause sweat to bead along your forehead if not for how safe you feel. It’s not from Empress’ insinuated promise of protection or that you’re abstained from execution or knowing Jungkook would defend you at any cost either.    Ever since you’ve found out that there was life budding within you, you’ve felt safe.   You’re no longer alone. No matter where you go, you carry someone else with you.   And now there’s never been a stronger reason for you to fight, to be strong and unafraid.   “I heard the physician was called this morning,” Hoseok says.   “It was just morning sickness.”   The man hums, arms shifting to place behind his back. “Well, the Empress made quite an uproar.”   “She often worries about me and the child,” you state plainly and it almost sounds like a threat, one Hoseok visibly acknowledges with a cocked brow. But you don’t dwell, clearing your throat and putting a pleasant expression on your face. “May I ask for what reason you’ve graced me with your presence?”    “I just wanted to visit the future emperor.” Hoseok’s eyes linger on your stomach and his smile becomes wry. “It’s quite a miracle, isn’t it? It’s no secret that there has been….some difficulty for a child to be produced. And for it to last this long too. The physician said it was exceptionally strong.”   Your smile stretches, but mirth never reaches your eyes. “The Mandate of Heaven grants miracles. It must be a divine wish and I am honoured to be the one fulfilling it.”   “Yes.” He nods and then notes, “well, you’ve gotten close to the Emperor’s guard, haven’t you?”   “I have no idea what you mean.”   Hoseok eyes you and it goes silent.   Then, you sit back down with the back of your hand pressed to your forehead. You gasp for breath and bat at yourself. “I’m beginning to feel faint. I think I need to lay down. It would be best if you were to leave, minister. God forbid...something happens to this child otherwise.”   Hoseok scoffs, but turns to exit.   Your fist clench, wrinkling the sheets underneath your hold. You’ll do whatever it takes to protect Jungkook’s child.   //   The fourth month milestone of your pregnancy is eventually reached without many qualms or complications. You’re less nauseous than you were before, but the queasiness has been replaced with hunger that often strikes in the middle of the night. You’re given teas and tonics, tested to make sure there is no poison — something Empress Soojin obsesses over and screams if there’s even a hair in the liquid which you’re still not sure if it’s worth laughing about or being scared of. Your breathing has become laboured too, even after short walks.   But most importantly, you’ve begun to feel strange sensations. Flutters in your stomach that the physician says is the movement of the child and when they happen, you can’t help caressing the bump that’s not so tiny anymore.   While things have been going smoothly, you’ve been put under strict monitoring for a whole month.   You’re protected, out of harm’s way. The only people who visit you are the physician, the head servant, a few other servants, and Empress Soojin who constantly and excessively frets over you — her incubator to her supposed baby. Her kindness and concern is meant for the child, not for you and you’re fully aware. It’s not that it matters to you, but it’s something you keep in mind.   You’ve heard the Emperor has found himself new concubines to preoccupy his time with too. Ever the same as he disregards matters of the nation to have innocent girls and conniving concubines lay underneath him. At least you’re untouchable to him now, out of reach and far away.   But it comes at a price.   You can’t see Seokjin. And you can’t see Jungkook either.   Your only connection to him is the swelling of your stomach, a sizable bulge that you can rest your hands against.   You miss Jungkook — so much that it hurts to think about. And it’s yearning for him constantly that makes you question your ears when you hear his voice whispering your name one night.   But it isn’t your imagination.   “J-Jungkook?”   “Don’t get up,” he says, shadow laid against the paper walls of your room. Your eyes trace against the black outline, lump forming in your throat at how this is the closest you can get to him. “I just wanted to come by and tell you that in three days, it’s happening. The ministers and other government officials have agreed to turn against the Emperor and Jung Hoseok. They’re going to force him to abdicate.”   He did it. Seokjin did it. The realization has tears flooding your vision.   “I’ll come for you,” he promises.   The tall shadow moves away, but you call out to him before he leaves—   “Jungkook.” He stops at the soft enunciation of his name, a beck and call made with emotion. And your heart stutters, knowing that the day your yearning will cease is coming close. “The physician thinks it’s a boy. I do too.”   He lingers.   If you could see him, you’d find an affectionate smile stretching into his cheeks.   Jungkook murmurs, “I hope Minkook will be as handsome as his father and as strong as his mother.”   Tears stream down your face. The corner of your lip lifts as Jungkook’s shadow fades.   //   You count down the hours, the minutes, the seconds. They pass by tediously, but excitement swells in your chest as you consider that in three days time, you will have freedom. A life with Jungkook. Seokjin by your side. Your child in your arms, never to be taken away from you.   It’s all you wished for since you stepped foot into the palace. But perhaps even before then.   You might’ve never loved Jungkook the way you do now or yearned to hold your healthy baby close to you, yet it has always been clear that doing anything and being anywhere would’ve been better than here. Even with the careful treatment you receive, this isn’t what you want.   So you wait. Patiently. For the promised day to arrive.   But it’s the day before the expected overthrow that there’s chaos in the middle of the night.    “Y/N!” You’re shaken away by Empress Soojin. Her sudden appearance shocks you out of your peaceful slumber and you’re left gasping for breath. But she’s frantic, eyes nearly falling out of their sockets. She’s still in her nightgown, hair in a disarray. The woman holds you by your shoulders, making you rise. “There’s something going on. I—I n-need to bring you to safety.”   The Empress guides you upwards, shouldering your weight. Once you’re on your feet again, she grabs a silk overcoat and secures it around your shoulders. “Quickly. There’s no time to waste.”   “Your Majesty.” You try to shake the sleepiness away, wondering if it was all a dream. “What’s going on?”   One of your hands is held in hers while the other rests underneath your swollen stomach, supporting the heaviness of the baby. “There’s a carriage waiting for you.”   There’s yelling from the distance, footsteps on the roof that make your head tilt. But you’re unable to discern what they’re saying, what’s occurring. All you know is that you’re about to be sent away. Without Seokjin — without Jungkook.    “Wait.” You struggle to catch up to her pace, confusion inhibiting your movements. Yet she still pulls you along, past the structures and paths shrouded in darkness. “I can’t leave.”   “It doesn’t matter,” Empress Soojin says, more serious than you’ve ever had the chance of witnessing. “You have to protect the baby at all costs.”   She’s desperate to protect you, to protect your child. She came to you first when she could’ve run on her own and left you asleep. She chose to keep you from harm over her own well-being.   Time and time again, Empress Soojin has made sure you were watched over.   And the realization makes guilt well up your throat.   Your steps slow and your arm tugs her back.   “This baby,” you whisper, “it doesn’t belong to who you think it does.”   But Empress Soojin’s hand tightens on yours and she turns around. Her brows are drawn together, the corners of her mouth tilted in a sorrowful smile. “Don’t you think I know that? But it doesn’t matter,” she spits in the midst of your shock and continues pulling you. “The child is supposed to be mine. It will be mine. It’s the only way I can be a mother.”   Before you can get a single word out, she turns the corner and there are deafening shouts. A clamour of feet stomping against the wooden floorboards, the clinking of heavy armour following grunts— “Stop right there!”   “Stand down!” Her voice is unwavering, strong as she pushes you behind her. “I am your Empress—!”   But they are Hoseok’s guards.    You recognize them from having followed the man around, from standing by during the ceremony and other celebrations you’ve been a spectator to. They have sworn their allegiance to him. Not to Emperor Minseok and most certainly not to Empress Soojin.   But she doesn’t seem to understand she’s been caught, that she’s a mouse cornered by two felines. She is naive and continues to scream at them for their disobedience. You try to tug her away, to get her to run, yet her pride is much too strong and you’re yanked away.    Sideways. The collar of your coat is taken by the bloodied knuckles of the guard. Stumbling. He clicks his tongue in annoyance at the ear-piercing Empress and in an effort to silence the ordeal, his weapon raises against you. His sword is high in the air, prepared to slash and end this nightmare.   Except, his blade never hits you.   Even when you shut your eyes, wrap your arms around your stomach to protect your child, hitch your breath, bracing yourself for the cut…..   “NO!”    Empress Soojin throws herself in front of you, her arms outstretched, allowing herself to take the blow as she is ripped from across her right shoulder to the left hip. She spits blood, warm crimson spewing out and splattering onto your cheeks. The world seems to come to a stop.   Your breathing ceases. The guard’s eyes shake for having hacked the Empress herself.   Yet she does not yield in spite of the wound that drips blood to the floor in droplets with a steady rhythm, that soaks into her white nightgown, marring the clean colour. She lurches forward, grabbing a torch attached to the wall and shouts, “Stay back!”   Her yell is howled out from her throat, jarring to the ears, full of wrath and will. And she throws the torch, allowing searing flames to engulf the corridor.   The guards stagger backwards with widened eyes and after a delayed moment, they retreat with profanities before the smoke can engulf their form.   Empress Soojin collapses.   You drop down to her as sobs wreck through your frame. As calculating and thoughtless as she has been, she has never once been insincere to you. She has never abandoned you. You cradle Soojin’s head into your lap, trying to wipe at her mouth with the sleeve of your silk overcoat. But she bats your arm away. Her hazy eyes remain connected with yours.   “P-protect the child…..prom...ise me…”   You nod, tears staining your cheeks forevermore. But you stand, finding leverage against the wall that was slowly being consumed by the sweltering fire and you run. As fast as your weak knees allow you to.   You leave Soojin behind — laying on the floor — staring up at the ceiling.    She dies before being taken by the fire bleeding through the palace.   You run, unsure of where to go but away from the uproar of people, the bloodshed and clashing of swords, away from the blazing inferno, collapsing ceilings and smog that chases your shadow. And it’s when you begin to lose breath and come to a four-way path that you nearly collide with another body.   A scream tears out of your chest until you find warm, familiar eyes.   “Jin?!”   Your brother’s hands secure around your shoulders and he lowers himself for your gazes to meet. “Are you alright?” His chest rises and falls, steadying his breathing as well and you notice the sword dangling by his side, unsuitable and much too lanky. Seokjin has always suited brushes and books more than weapons — something you wish you had told him sooner.   “I—I’m fine, but Empress Soojin. I...I left her behind and she’s wounded. There’s fire….fire!”   “Y/N,” Seokjin calls you calmly and sternly. “Are you okay?”    You nod and he sighs, pulling away. “Then that’s all that matters.”   “What’s going on, Jin?! I thought the abdication was going to be tomorrow.”   “Some of the ministers changed their minds last minute. They decided they wanted to remain loyalists to the Emperor for fear of their families being punished. The revolt has been moved up.”   “Revolt?! I thought….I thought they were just going to force him to abdicate!” You didn’t know that there would be such violence. That all of this was planned prior. It makes you queasy.   “Sometimes sacrifice is needed,” Seokjin merely states. “But you don’t have to worry. We still have the majority of the ministers’ support. They would’ve still voted in favour of abdicating the Emperor from his throne.”    Your brows are drawn tightly together and you shake your head. “What does that mean?”   “It means we’re going to win.” Your older brother smiles, his eyes crinkling, a sense of elation evidently filling his features. But you wonder what the cost of the rebellion coming to fruition is. “I know you’re not carrying the Emperor's child. It’s Jungkook’s, isn’t it?”   Seokjin searches your expression for any confirmation, but unlike how you thought he would be wary of your relationship with his close friend and the dangers that came along with it, he appears more relieved.   “Jungkook told me,” he explains, “and I told him to come find you. Stay here, alright?”   “What?” You grab a hold of your older brother before he can run off, before he can disappear with your worry for him being abandoned with you yet again. “Where are you going?”   “I’m going to find Hoseok before he can run away. I’m going to give him what he deserves.”   Every syllable is spoken with malice, a sharpness and anticipation flooded between each pause.    But you hang onto Seokjin, refusing to let go. You gaze at your sibling, his eyes and hair that appear darker in this lack of lighting, the downturn of his mouth, his shoulders and frame that seem to have gotten thinner in the months you haven’t seen him. You’ve missed Jin so much.   And at this moment, you don’t care that the fire is spreading through the palace. That there was smoke already spread at the ceiling. Bloodshed and pitched screams not far from where you stand. You turn deaf to those noises, to the crackling of the flames, the uprising’s cry.   “Do you really need to do this? Isn’t this enough already?”   “No. It’s not. I won’t be satisfied until I know that bastard hasn’t run away.”   “Please, Seokjin,” you beg with your entire frame, fingers tightening on his sleeve until your knuckles have turned white. You do all that you can to reach him, begging him, pleading with him as his younger sister. “D-Don’t go. I miss you. We’re….we’re family. I only have you left and I...I don’t want you to go anymore. Stay with me, please. Please, please, that's all I ask.”   You remember. Days under the sun where you would follow him. Days he would take dull sticks and poke you incessantly. Days he would piggyback you and tell you stories he made up off the top of his head. That day the two of you hid in the woven baskets and witnessed the massacre of your family until he covered your eyes with his small hands still dirty from picking flowers.   “Don’t go.”   But Seokjin’s has already made up his mind. All by himself.   You can tell with the way his eyes become saddened, how he merely leans in to plant a kiss at your forehead, how he pulls out of your grasps. Seokjin runs off and you try to chase him as if you were still children playing games in the forest. But just like then, he’s faster than you are.   “Seokjin!”   He runs, disappearing into the darkness.   “Jin!” And you’re left alone. Abandoned. Sobbing heart wrenchingly until your whole being aches. “Kim Seokjin!”   You call out to him to no avail, watching the backside of your only brother fading away.

Seokjin hears you, loud and clear. But he doesn’t turn around.    He twists around the corner, sword slashing anyone who comes in his way. After years of training, it’s no longer difficult to drive his blade into bodies and let their blood splatter on his hands. It’s rather easy when he consumes himself in his hatred and anger.   Seokjin kills any guards still wearing the royal emblem or those who have sworn their allegiance to Jung Hoseok, and any ministers who have decided to stay as loyalists. He spares servants, letting them run past him as they cry, begging for mercy. And he persists, even when he has to lurch forward, the gash of his shoulder dripping of his blood and the nicks on his face sting painfully.   He makes it to the grand throne room. The red carpet is rolled in front of him, golden candle lights providing piercing luminescence but making his own shadow darker. This is the place that once held extravagant celebrations to welcome the Emperor’s consorts that were disposed of months later, that held dancers and musicians for the entertainment of the ministers, that failed to save the nation from poverty and famine.   And now, Seokjin finds Hoseok seated on the throne.    The man is alone. Pouring his last cup of wine to drink.   “Jung Hoseok!” Seokjin’s voice booms across the hall, his steps finding vigor as they close the distance. “You can’t run anymore!”   “I know,” the middle-aged man says after he sips and smacks his lips, savouring the taste of wine. “I know I’ve lost. It must feel good to undermine my position, huh? I should’ve known better than to underestimate you, but those are things of the past. I can’t change them now.”   His calmness exasperates Seokjin to his core.   And Hoseok rises to his feet, brushing his robes behind him. His arms are placed behind his back as he walks down the steps of the throne, finally facing the younger man. But he isn’t surrendering, far from it when he takes the sword from the stand and points it at Jin.   There’s shouting, an ear-splitting clash of metal against the crackle of the flames becoming louder as they seep through the back wall. Hoseok is stiff, age having slowed his movements. He isn’t as agile as Seokjin is, doesn’t have his fervour, but it’s clear to Jin that he’s not going without a fight. That he will never give up out of his own will. Hoseok would rather burn here.   “You killed my family!” Seokjin spits when their blades crash against each other again, the older barely able to deflect.   The corner of Hoseok’s mouth tugs. “I ended many families.”   Seokjin never tells him about the Kim family, about how his father and mother were both executed when knelt on the dirty ground, how his uncles and aunts were brutalized before being murdered, that the servants’ sobs only stopped once their breathing ceases.    Seokjin doesn’t tell, just because he has an inkling, a fear that Hoseok won’t even remember.   So he lets his grief speak for itself— “You will pay for what you’ve done.”   There’s a swing, another clatter. Hoseok stumbles back before lifting his sword again.   There’s a chance. An opportunity. Seokjin could deflect, could move away swiftly without a blink to waste, but his eyes instead pinpoint to Hoseok’s open abdomen. A perfect spot and he seizes the moment.   He drives the sword forward.   Until he can hear the breath in the older man hitch, see the way his pupils tremble. Even when the cost is that Hoseok’s own blade digs into his shoulder and tears it down into his chest.   Blood pours like rain on an April afternoon. It drips in a rhythmic beat, coating the empty throne room until the iron stench overwhelms the smoke of the burning, golden walls.   Seokjin uses the remaining of his strength to step back, pulling the sword out of Hoseok. The blood-soaked blade crashes to the ground at the same time as Hoseok’s own body collapses.   And Jin falls back a moment later. The pool of his blood is warm, the fire enveloping the room sweltering. He stares at the magnificently painted ceiling before shutting his eyes for the final time.    The corners of Seokjin’s mouth tugs upwards into a smile.   We’ve won, Y/N.

At the same time, you stumble.

  The wind knocks out of your lungs as your knees buckle. You’re grabbed by one of Hoseok’s guards, pulled back until your arm feels like it’s being yanked out of its socket. You cry out as agony overwhelms you and the guard wheezes over the exhaust of the fire engulfing the palace and paints the wooden structures into bright scarlet.    “She’s here!” he shouts while you struggle.    But before you can be taken, dragged towards the center of the palace, there’s a low grunt from the guard. A short shout is made and he suddenly drops, revealing your saviour. Doe eyes and dark hair, his hands splattered in carmine and his brows knitted closely together.   “J-Jungkook!”   He embraces you in an instant, arms wrapping around your frame for the first time in ages. His nose digs into your hair, your face into his shoulder as you shake. “It’s okay, it’s okay, I’m here now,” he soothes you in a murmur that you desperately hang on to.   But the intimate moment doesn’t last for long.   Jungkook pulls away. “We have to go. There’s an open entrance in the back by the stables.”   “Wait—wait, Jungkook! Jin. I couldn’t stop him. He—he went to find...he went to find Jung Hoseok and he went towards the fire. I can’t leave him behind. He’s my only brother. Please go look for him, please,” you beg him, hands tightening on his. “I can’t go without him.”   “I know,” Jungkook tells you with lips lopsided. “But I need to make sure you’re safe first. I need to fulfill my promise to him. This is what he wanted, okay?”   You nod, putting your trust in him and quicken your pace. The faster you go, the more time they’ll be for Jungkook to return and search for Jin before it’s too late. But as the two of you interlace your hands, running alongside one another, you’re stopped meters away from the circular opening of the wall.   “Stop!” Emperor Minseok shouts pathetically. He’s obviously shaken, his hair in a disarray, his once magnificent robes dirtied and fluttering open. He is with two other guards wielding weapons, but without his clothes and servants, it is clear that he is undeserving of his title.   He is not an Emperor.   “Y-You can’t leave! That child is mine!” Minseok points to your stomach.   “This isn’t your child!” you shout back at him and the man seemingly pales, eyes horrified as his mouth drops open. “It has never been.”   “You….You!”   There’s a clamour above the roar of the fire consuming the entire palace. The last of his guards were coming from the corridor and your hand squeezes Jungkook’s.   If you die here, then so be it. But you will do so protecting your child until your very last breath.   Yet, Jungkook has other plans and it doesn’t encompass your death.    “Run,” he whispers sharply into your ear and you whirl around to look at him. “I’ll hold them off. Run and don’t look back.”   “But—”   “I love you.” Jungkook smiles. His doe eyes crinkle, shining in the flames bleeding to your feet. “I’ll see you again.”   He pushes you forward and your feet move on instinct. You run with your arms wrapped around your swollen center, breaths stolen from your parted lips and your eyes shut tight. The guards swing their swords around, but their blades never touch you. There’s a clatter of metal, blades striking one another.   Minseok reaches out to seize you, not letting you get away. But his fingertips merely skim the tips of your hair. You hear his grunt, a smothered sound coming from his mouth, the drop of a body.   You run. Out through the entrance. Up the dirt incline until your feet begin to slip. Until the darkness has completely covered your form from sight. Until sheer exhaustion forces you to stop.   Against Jungkook’s will, you turn around.   You watch as the raging fire engulfs the palace, eating away at the structure that stretches across the horizon, as blazing as the sunlight at dawn itself. And you fall to your knees, sobbing for the people you love.

[Epilogue]   The dynasty has fallen.   New people have taken over old places and you wonder if it was all futile — if history will repeat itself once more — if Seokjin’s sacrifice has been made in vain. For his sake, you hope not.   After the rebellion and riots on the streets by the common people, the loyalists of the old empire have been driven away from the country. But you know there’s few of them that are still after you because of your ties to the rebels. There are those on the uprising’s side that are seeking to kill you too. They believe that your child belongs to the deceased Emperor and many would rather be safe than sorry, not wanting to risk his bloodline being in existence at all.   But one look at the babbling baby trying to stand in front of you and his striking doe eyes and dark hair, you know for certain that he is of Jungkook’s blood and bones.   “Minkook, what are you doing?”   You pick up your mischievous, chubby toddler to place on your hip.   His grabby hands take your hair and his mouth circles, trying to sound out syllables and string them together. “M-Mum..mum..mama…”   You smile, nuzzling into him. “Are you hungry?”   Those who believe you, the ones closest to Seokjin, have chosen to protect you from the threats. After the birth, you were brought to a safe house far from the capital where no one knows your name or your child’s. It’s a modest home on top of a green hill, close to the riverbend and where you can see the sunrise and sunset. It’s peaceful and every morning and evening, you’re able to sit on the steps. Waiting.   They told you about Seokjin. You heard that several of them saw his body before the entire palace went up into flames, but there’s been no news of Jungkook. No sighting of him.   It’s been eleven months since that time. Six from when Minkook was born.   You don’t know Jungkook’s whereabouts, don’t know if he can even find you with where you’re hidden now, how he will manage to get himself here. But you believe in his promise. You trust that you will see him again.   “Goodnight, Min.”   Your sleepy toddler is unable to keep his eyes open for any longer and succumbs to the seduction of sleep. You plant a tender kiss on the top of his round head and set down on the bed, still softly humming a lullaby that Seokjin had taught you so long ago — a way you keep his memory alive. Once Minkook is secure and safe, your footsteps pad quietly across the floor.    You come outside, shutting the door behind you, sitting on the wooden steps.   The last light of the sun is fading from the sky. The horizon is painted in murky shades of tangerine and rose, the clouds wispy and floating in shapes that you and your brother once tried to discern as children. Someday, your own children will lay in the grass staring at the sky because of his sacrifice and yours. But for now, you watch the sun fall.    You watch as night takes over the evening, how another day has passed.   But as you turn to head inside as the sky starts to be filled with stars, your breath hitches in your throat.   You blink hard to ensure that it's not a dream. That the illusion has not imprinted into your mind after so much desperation and time. But the sight is all too real when you open your eyes again.   Over the horizon at a distance and in the last dwindling light of the evening, there is a man with doe eyes and dark hair approaching. His gaze meets yours and a tender smile stretches into his cheeks. His features are tired as if he has been traveling for days, clothes ragged and ripped.   But none of it matters.   Jungkook comes closer and closer towards you. And you run, meeting him halfway as tears flood your vision. You leap forward and he laughs, arms catching you in a tight embrace.   The two of you are finally reunited at last.

[gwynrielsupremacist]

A COURT OF LIGHT AND SHADOWS

Chapter 2: Reason

Read it at AO3

Masterlist

If it were up to Azriel, right now he would rather be juggling burning knives.

Blindfolded.

And in a dark room.

They were in the huge alcove of the High Lord of the Night Court, as Rhysand removed shirts and jackets from his dressing room that he claimed were appropriate for Cassian's attire at his ceremony.

Although Azriel, sitting in one of the chairs that were nearby, watching the scene with his chin on his hands, he was rethinking why he thought this would be a good idea.

After the 'incident' with Elain and Rhys, he had made up his mind that he would never think of Elain that way again.

Of course, that was rather difficult when she was always where the Spymaster passed.

Was he going to the kitchen? Elain would be there with Nuala and Cerridwen.

Was he going to the living room? Elain would be there with Feyre and Nyx.

Possibly one day he would find her in his bed, wearing lingerie, as a gift just for hia enjoyment, tearing off the tiny pieces of undergarments and-

"Azriel?" The sound of his name brought him out of his trance. "Have you been paying attention to something I've said in the last 20 minutes?" 

He knew that his shadows, moving slowly over his neck, covered any variation of his arousal but, just in case, he watched Rhysand's reaction, knowing if he knew the reason for his daydreaming, he would be enraged.

However, Rhys's face revealed absolutely nothing, only joy for his brother and bewilderment on the part of the Shadowsinger.

Usually Azriel was the one who had to warn his brothers to pay attention to him, not the other way around.

He shook his head to Cassian's question, to which he sighed, visibly tired and irritated: "I was wondering if navy would look better than black, but I have no idea what Nesta would like." He muttered. Apparently having a mating ceremony wasn't all the color of roses. "I'll stick with the black one, I  don't think the suit will last long after we go to that cabin." He announced as he and Rhys gave each other knowing glances, grinning mischievously.

That was another arrow to his badly wounded heart.

He was happy for his brothers, of course he was.  There was no other male who deserved a mate as much as Rhys and Cassian, but ...

What about him?

Azriel stopped intervening in the conversation at that moment. He usually did not want to participate in those conversations, but it seemed that that day he was the worst of all.

"The worst day will be the mating ceremony, Shadowsinger. You must prepare for that day if you do not want to fall from grace" Recommended their shadows.

It was true. There would be no worse day than the ceremony.

With Rhys's ceremony it had been the same. As soon as the ceremony was over, he had to go to a Sex club to get rid of the arousal and despair that he felt throughout his body.

It was not fair. Was the Cauldron so macabre?

Had he done so much harm to the world that they deprived him of the experience of having a mate?

He swallowed silently, keeping his face mask neutral, no emotion leaving his face.

He thanked whoever had given him that ability, it was fucking useful at times like these.

Three hours later, Cassian ended up deciding what costume to wear, the black one, and the conversation between the commander and the High Lord died as well.

Cassian left, muttering that he had forgotten something in the House of Wind, although it was possibly an excuse.

The atmosphere in the room had quickly become charged, before the challenging stares of those two.

Although Azriel supposed that he should stay away from the House as well, since he did not need his shadows to tell him that it had served him with a double purpose, he was probably going to fuck Nesta until they both could not hold on foot.

Azriel started to get up, but was prevented by a force in his chest from Rhysand.

"Maybe he had found out about my scent change, after all." He guessed, preparing his best poker face for the onslaught the High Lord was going to bring him.

They stared at each other, studying possible reactions, waiting for who was the first to speak.  Things had gotten tense on their part since Solstice.

Azriel knew, as did Rhysand, that no matter how much he wanted to possess Elain's body, he would never betray Rhysand. Punch him, maybe.  But he will never betray his High Lord.

"I notice you are somewhat distracted, Azriel."  The High Lord commented, sitting down on a chair and intertwining his fingers, dropping them into his lap. "I hope there were no overnight escapades on either side." Rhysand knew perfectly well what he was talking about.

Like Azriel.

"None. I did what you asked." He secured, leaning back, with the advantage that the High Lord didn't know that in reality, his thoughts were a hell of 'wills and cannot'.

Rhysand nodded slightly, rising from his chair, to which Azriel copied the movement.

Azriel knew he shouldn't be fooling around when Rhysand was in that mode, but he couldn't help but feel like a hypocrite.

"You took Feyre away from Tamlin when she still thought she loved him. Elain doesn't love Lucien, yet you separate her from me." Azriel thought. He knew those thoughts didn't make any sense, but right now he was the only thing he could think about.

His shadows were scattered around the room, ready to attack if something happened to his master, while some were on his shoulders, caressing the area in tension.

"I want to keep it that way." Rhysand emphasized, walking ahead of him, silently asking him to follow. He did it. "Things are going bad, Azriel, I don't need any more trouble than is inevitable."

"What problems?" This one answered. "According to my spies, Koschei hasn't shown any signs of life, so I don't see what a problem there could be."

"That Koschei is not showing signs of life does not mean that he is not operating in secret." He suggested, walking into the nursery, with Nyx in the crib, sleeping peacefully.

The High Lord's face changed dramatically.

It was no longer the face of the most powerful High Lord in history. It was the face of a father watching a son, with awe and love in it.

"I can't bear that my son has to spend his early years with that bastard of Koschei in the middle."

"We will protect it." Azriel confirmed, also looking at the small bundle wrapped in sheets. "I will protect him with my own life, if necessary."

Rhysand looked into his eyes, and in a pleading voice, he said:

"Do you understand then? Why I ask you to separate from Elain?" As much as he hated doing that, he nodded. "I cannot allow jealousy and desires to be put through the protection of the court. Things are bad enough to make them worse."

As much as it was hard to keep his gaze neutral, he continued to nod, but anger crept through his mind, clouding his reason.

"And how much trouble would Elain and I have?"

Rhysand was silent for a moment. Azriel guessed

he was steadying himself so as not to punch him in front of his son's bed. Instead of doing so, he asked:

"I don't want you to avoid the question. You are not going to avoid the question." The High Lord manifested. "What the hell happened with Mor, Az?

That theme again.

"Why whenever we talk about Elain, do you end up talking about Mor?" The Spymaster snarled, the shadows preparing to attack, noting the tension in the environment.

"I do it because you have completely forgotten Mor, Azriel. You have been in love with her for over 500 years." He remembered. "I can't believe you traded Mor for Elain in so little time."

"And why do you fucking care?" He growled again, backing away from the room for fear of waking the boy.

"Mor is my cousin, Azriel, and I think I deserve an explanation. Have you given up? And now I suppose Elain will be the consolation prize, right?

It took Azriel more of the self-control he possessed not to slam his fist into the High Lord's nose. If he hadn't been his superior, Rhysand would be bleeding badly right now.

"Elain will never be a consolation prize." He barked, leaving the house and spreading his wings to fly up, but was interrupted by Rhys's hand on his arm, an anchor holding him to the ground.

"Give me a reason."  He started to say. "Tell me one fucking reason why Elain deserves to be your mate, and not Lucien's."

"Are you comparing me to… to that one?" He murmured in a voice icy and deadly, the voice that sent chills to the poor people who had to listen to it. Rhysand didn't even flinch.

"You are both different and equal at the same time." He evaded, then returning to the initial question. "Give me a logical reason, and I will allow Elain to stay with you."

Baring his teeth at him, Azriel leapt, taking flight and away from those feelings, roaring with rage when he realized that he had not a single reason to be worthy of Elain.

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