#it's not easy to be a Princess and a full-time scholar at the same time

[chimpukampu]

Miss Zelda can be forgetful sometimes

[sunsetwaltz]

Thinking about how out of all my canon DA protagonists, Rook is the only one to get a straightforward romance (with a hint of HEA).

Mahariel/Alistair: She dodged a bullet by never finding out that Anora would throw her under the bus without a second thought. So she crowned Anora, didn't encourage Alistair to become king because he never seemed interested, and took the "easy" way out by (reluctantly) agreeing to Morrigan's ritual. If she had submitted to Cauthrien, well, King Alistair definitely would've left her heartbroken.

There's also the whole "Creators, do I really have feelings for a shem human?" crisis, y'know feeling like a traitor to her people for daring to love a human. And later on feeling immense (survivor's) guilt for not performing the ultimate sacrifice and irrationally believing she robbed Alistair of a better, more stable future. Which is why Alistair's romanced dialogue in DAI had me giddy, swooning and relieved:

"Happier than I ever dreamed possible. She's more than I deserve... And I hope I make her days easier as well."

Oh and let's not forget the Calling. That kind of puts a damper on the future.

Hawke/no one/the fade: RIP my Hawke. She had a fling with Isabela but the game bugged and didn't properly register their breakup... She couldn't romance anyone else or experience the full Isabela romance. If I had known that bug would happen I would've committed to Isabela lol.

In the Keep, I had her in a relationship with Sebastian for funsies. Except she's a mage and I personally don't believe a Sebastian/mage Hawke romance would end happily. Not unless he gives up the throne to Starkhaven, which I doubt either of them would want. Even by 9:52 Dragon I'm not sure Starkhaven or the rest of Thedas would realistically accept a mage as their Princess (he'd probably give the same speech as Alistair heh). So off to the Fade she went during Here Lies the Abyss.

Lavellan/Solas: It's Solas. He makes things complicated just by existing lol. Y'know as a quiet, not-humble, tea-hating, fade-obsessed dreamer apostate scholar. Not a god but still an absurdly powerful immortal elven mage straight out of Dalish legend. Maker of the veil. Sunderer of the titans and the Elvhenan of old. Leader of the elven rebellion against the Evanuris, liberator of elven slaves. The guy who played a hand in creating both the breach AND the blight. Who is "kind and wise and sad" and terrible at loving someone and being loved in return.

"The course of true love never did run smooth" is THEM. Ten years, man.

Rook/Davrin: Felt straight up like a Disney or Pixar romance - lighthearted and cute. I appreciated how level headed, grounded and confident he seemed. How he had a sense of humour but knew when to be serious. How he didn't have any overwhelming angst or drama in his life (after ten years with Solas yk...a girl needs a break!). It felt like Davrin truly understood what was important during all those round table discussions, like he and my (humorous) Rook were on the same page, that they definitely had inside jokes of their own. In a way, it felt like Davrin became a "rock for Rook".

Also ASSAN. My absolute favourite, my adopted baby griffin! While I would've liked to learn more about Davrin (which clan is he from? Does he have any siblings or surviving family? How'd he get his scars?), I was fairly pleased by this romance and all the cute family moments. Except for y'know that barely anyone in the game acknowledges it - it's only Emmrich, Davrin himself and Ghilan'nain of all characters lol afaik.

(Neve absolutely does not count! Watch/read the banter again. Only Rook responds to Davrin's comment about their future; Neve doesn't even offer anything like "I'm happy for you two" FKSDLAFJ;LSAKD;LKF)

When it came to the scene where they discuss their future together(!), it felt only appropriate to allow at least one of my DA protags to have a happy ending. (At that time I had no idea about Solas/Lavellan.) I liked how the game followed up on the "settling down and raising our half-bird, half-cat kid" later in Act 3. Plus Davrin referencing an earlier cutscene, coming around and suggesting they "go flying one day"... That really warmed my heart <3

[libidomechanica]

“Who want took advantage”

A Meredith sonnet sequence

               1

Our humble salve which I should that which was   to blame, for aught it not sleep she sped, is   most sweet odours to a shrink—what care of thine. Who want took advantage! The inherit, and Taste, is lying idle. I have   him smiles to the Skies, where on lattice edge   like death and too long the Lucius Junius Brutus of the amorous o’erflow. And the angels’ trumpet down tents. Love were   ingage, proves their happening ring, if ye gie   a woman’s horn, batt’ning men, she dead ride not to her bed, and ill. Easy to under fingers; th’ inestimately   thought, seemed too by your lovers like an   empty bee that our breath The name flowers they could flowers of the largeness of Lead?

               2

’ ‘My fault beeing to all one small: little hearse.   This explicit sadness. As many reason   be taught, and passions and Trumps the same fair she-world, on conditional and signal conversation. Giving and command   met her Heaven looked himselfe beleeue that they?   And in the white, that words of lighter the anger more! To say prayed, as Argus was gone out, and the flocke of the shine with weak   as everywhere! And sensuall eares and   bones to interpret God them back when some respects and then rent her Victim of her Force, from God made where he said One who mends   of bane: want my knee designs and make a   fish. Walls mount looks from the voice within the Sylphids, to stand, so little hair behind!

               3

Destined not that rubs its eclipse, and the   full consecrates have climax of his   Princess cramped understand—better fits himself had streets, after flight and flow: a hollow sky, she shadow of three horses that   has slave, those look’d about the forms go by,   and brave. To dust of helth. Too sopping; just as his lastly on earth and what longer; and the take Lodgings in Battel seize hairs   less in losing me in their Doom; and subside.   And therefore, Charms conceits your Chief th’ unequal Fight, while amid the number’d Throne. My scholar, and the individual   with Ribs of Whale. Hine oath, must thy   joes hae sent from all honour of the skie doth beating rage inside the other’s dart.

               4

And here so wonder and mean to labour   and torture at the fierce inscription waits   to Day. In sorrows, such as forehead’s smooth- sliding shade, glittering levin, that all; old I am desolate to Fate, thou   like an all he promise you and Infidels   adore. Glory the same sweet ecstasy complain, the fiddling both attends a bee circle and talk seem’d to dedicate   your flocks the first who, his presentful,   impatience. And sobbed us so, thus beguiles: she courteous, even a sprights my soul is every woman, she’sgane, and walk   upon thy gentler day; and lose convent,   studies as we once again, on every moment that keep your worthy bidden field.

               5

Grows here! To pluck the colors, all things, the   eye and build a bonny footsteps to flit   in a circling to him time to clear as human voice is to make the foremost faith, the score years fortitude, lest Glory of   my spirit’s plait then? Turn thee thou less   glorious Off’rings are fair days are more these just what: but like a lewde lust, may yet hangs freedom, wisdom, Better were engraved invite   so easy thing, with me and passions   fly, thy Eyes first and fine; brother: keeps chance in the accents of a nobler age; when I kiss dropped, and all thy charm that I have   done. Up-locked through windows of thine. Give me   here gratefulnesse the way to live. Night Militia of these were a little Booke.

               6

I weene the hallan, a child, and to thy   golden bow Oh, tis we, who made my Grandsire,   thou not! This Lock, this Morning I wrote should be alwaies free shallow rivers tost a barre again: find the woodmen hearth in   two should he, if I could not his face more,   far from the night as Vision sets us praised her country; no tears the enduring passed a dreame. The Sonne betray’d to rival   brine sleek Odalisques, or for buttondown,   and fame you go the heard grow to use. In mystic Vision of her stops of various dews began to those follows many   lies—the string? As yet lifts and dear delight,   while I am forst the trains may have been worships it. She sat in crystal Dome.

               7

To scorn Two Pages and elbowing thin!   Lifting to a slope of change and Absál   the Prize aspire them—sometimes of milk shalt win much morning passed over, and send the golden day. And leany knaues, tho’ Honour   of the gray barbarous isles of birth; and,   asleep: vainly no great master-hands, and have seen fanning better grant Steams she said, My life, I am tough Walebone. And   said she, now breaking each others could see   to spreads her hearth, and twenty summits old in skin like a key in skins, raw fresh wood and my breast, to say: That is not his peer.   ’Er thy ruling Spoil. And wins oh shame one   Spirit should not half his soul and on the day three Realms obey, dost someone elbows.

               8

Happy starv’d, ’mid a’ this my Mother-sisters   of his lip should yede, thou hast making   one, since she, and there he saw fair starv’d betwixt. Cried Misery, or under the If and Why I loved you. Their Insect-Wings unfold,   when not for the dusky strange Poet-   princely pow’r of mincing fire with the less: some thrid the cometh not, how hollow smoke … no, it’s hardly credible how it all   the gate is the world. You should be call? That   was wonder I seemed about hope all the people apart, but Homer’s keen beyond more I cry, less the Prize is my delicious   part, thou iollye shepheards were one who   expectation times, tongue aspire to the natural order festers, Stars, to die. Forsworn.

               9

And gold, upon thee I so belonging.   Slighted, a breath, whose words, were late the night,   nor wish is under the figured, and try to the rocks, seeing the lowe, and half for thy feete are sped; and also the Pythian   of thee from Psyche, Ah—Melissa—you!   Gossips wan they: alas that in the bar, a blank; it fall out you, when the other’s breast. That keep Cease, bright of him: when his know   she’d just behind he thatch upon the rope   that heart is she! All you can emeral insect the uncouth, twas really see, doe not with tender voice might all the giddy   Motion seat your sight, music driving words,   weep and on the night and well at cloud of him too, and forefingers brought in her kind.

               10

We pull; fair Tresses from the lawful things   were stars to the least encumbered winged reeds,   like a wafu’ man was. And we as right across the Course of Christian woman than Christ was as rich, after all, and thing of   the rest. Thunderous fond will be paid thou   less thy middle jimp wi’ a langer and they to where was uprights came: but live, performing bubbling never: our sin, nor the   one who under thing all the warm serge gown   master, Sirens thy Children—that might’st help to make these Eyes are wrong’d me, if one, including me,—That is not set you only   crueltie farre worship him, it is the church,   refusing is in thee—behold the mesh, their fasting the slouches on all the wind fall.

               11

Our telephone for very loud about   the sky, where this same film over, if you   like pale jessamine, for such as he light of succeeding on delight at you and my most beauteous Grief to face be to me!   And lodge such as charge to disrupt your   adventrous world’s bitter at lineaments, like breath. No witch, haunting lies, all morn before thanke, to recover of broken fence, and   the windchime into the expire, to blind   old man, womankind, I do change of thy right arbour, yet of hand is, the dear. And braes, wi’ hawthorns gray, that sun thine on her   the air this faire with gold; a belt of such   a wretched for Love’s Elysian ground, one Arm held in story, by thy soul at all.

               12

She said: “And she hurricane all night— ouf!   That the long retreats of roses fed, but   shepherds came invisible because I take Physick, other lips, nor can intent sane and many wished—our kirtle embroidered   all to Locks, and you feel the order   fill’d in man’s statues, musical of milk and why should I presume? Ladies still musical of monk, you still some lived with his   Tongues, which suns perisheth on the fair   philosophies th’ expressive Embleme. The dizzy proceeds, and funked; the thing down Armies in mockery of flesh, you   the two. Not by the window-panes; there was   more the shore, and in hell on Earth am rotten by name. He waters Matron’s Ears.

               13

That while night across the Gift away: they   did draw, rot inward clime, he touch solitude!   Wine wither. Fresh from side by side, that manacles for kisses breast. Of the balmy Rest. I tossed with Secretary Sis   to catch the hills bend there footless for wider   carnage taught of lost Lady Blanche. A breath sweet, scramble at the song oared a narrownes you knead me and many lies a   brother within the softer voice is but   fount, anxious Cause, you through Love’s stands upon thy aid, my flash, their laws, and weetles,—blind and equipp’d a Camel tumble down with   that he should kisse. Be done. As where’s naked   love must need thou Air, and loved so she well: and I said so dear the laughs at home!

[whimsicallyreading]

“I just realized I’m desperately in love with you-“

Prompt Day One for Rowaelin Month

~

"Rowan, take a picture of that one. It's so cute." Aelin fawns quietly.

Rowan gives a long-suffering sigh. "There are a thousand of them here. Do you have to pester me into taking a picture of every seal pup we come across?"

"Her name is Fleetfoot, and yes. Isn't that the whole reason we are here?" Aelin looks at him equally annoyed, a strand of gold spun hair freeing itself from beneath her parka.

"I'm here to study the behavioral patterns of tiger seals and orcas in a rapidly shifting environment. You are here to keep our equipment functioning. If you keep talking, neither of us will finish our jobs and escape from this wasteland." Rowan switches the lens of his camera to focus on two male seals who were squaring up with each other in the distance.

Rowan nearly threw his camera over the boat and jumped off into the coastal waters of Argentina when he realized who had been assigned to assist him on this expedition.

He'd insisted that only he and one other make the trek across the Antarctic. Insisting a large group could impede the quality of his research. When they agreed, Rowan thought they would send him with Lorcan or Brullo. Both were accomplished survivalists and scholars—valuable additions to any team.

Instead, it was Aelin Ashryvver who waited for him at the dock. The most annoying newbie on his floor. Dorian insisted that her knowledge of mechanical engineering would make her invaluable.

So far, she was just a verifiable pain in his ass.

She sat around bored as Rowan spent the day writing notes and snapping photos. Occasionally she helped him set up microphones. On one instance, she fixed their ATV. It was the first and only time he'd found her truly useful.

Rowan couldn't wait to go home.

"Alright, we have the cameras positioned. We should head back to the base. The temps are dropping. We need to warm up and eat."

Aelin nods quietly, she would never admit it, but the severe temperatures are taking a toll on her. It was amazing how important something like fat is in a frigid environment. Rowan is naturally covered in layers of dense muscle. While Aelin is fit herself, she's still small and the first to feel the effects of persistent cold.

Watching the seals, she occasionally found herself jealous of their thick layers of blubber that kept them comfortable. She should have carb-loaded before they set sail.

They hop on the snow ski and traverse quickly over the powderlike substance.

~~~

When they reach the Terresen South Pole station and ditch their coats, they fall to the floor in a cascade of flurries. Rowan's spine straightens for the first time that day. Their coats were dense. With the additional weight of all of the equipment he carried, there was a perpetual bend in his spine.

It was a huge relief to be inside a climate-controlled building—light layers, freedom movement, and feeling in all of his extremities. Tossing that coat off was the pinnacle of his daily routine on this mission.

That is until he realized it was freezing.

Walking over to a light switch with urgency, he flicks it a few times. Nothing happens. Anxiety wells in his gut, and he hits the wall a couple of times before flipping the switch again.

"Shit," Rowan hisses.

"The power is out," Aelin's eyes widen with the realization. "That's not good."

"I thought I was the scientist, but look at you stating the obvious," Rowan growls as he shrugs his jacket back on. It wasn't nearly as frigid inside the insulated building as it was outside, but it was still bitterly cold. Keeping warm would be their first step in survival. Without heat, shit could hit the fan for them very quickly. Thankfully their satellite phones should still be functioning; he'd charged the battery the day before. There should be enough juice in the phones to send out a mayday call even without power.

Aelin doesn't put on her jacket. Instead, she heads in the direction of the lockers with a look of determination plastered on her face. It was a look he'd slowly begun to grow familiar with, mainly when Rowan was holding a ration packet she wanted. It made him uneasy.

"Where are you going?" Rowan calls after her, picking up her jacket. He wouldn't be held responsible for his younger, female partner freezing to death. HR at the University would have his head on a stick if she died on his watch.

He follows Aelin to her locker, where she's already sliding a grey jumpsuit over her clothes.

"I can fix the engines," Aelin pulls her zipper up. The jumpsuit covered head-to-toe, but they weren't nearly as warm as their snow gear. He could already see a slight blue-ish tint to her lips. "They probably just stalled. All I need to do is go down, diagnose the problem, and fix it. Easy as pie."

Ignoring the massive oversimplification of their situation, knowing it was a lost cause, he focuses on the immediate problem. "You need to keep your jacket on," Rowan thrusts the article of clothing at her. Her color was concerning him, and the longer she went without the thermal garment, the higher his stress became.

Aelin gives him a long-suffering look, all too similar to the one he gives her. "And get my hood or a sleeve caught in one of those beasts? Those machines are massive. Getting snagged could rip my arm off or kill me. It's like you don't even have a master's in engineering and a spotless safety record," she smiles at Rowan's scowling face. "Oh wait, that's me. Let me do my job, Dr. Whitethorn."

Before Rowan could argue, Aelin was gone down the stairwell towards the engines.

Dragging a frustrated hand through his hair, he tosses her jacket on the floor. His time is probably better spent getting through to their mission handlers on the satellite phones anyway.

~~~

Two hours later, Rowan has long finished his call with Dorian.

Their expedition leader had asked if they wanted a recovery team sent out to them, but Rowan hesitated. He was on the mission of a lifetime. He'd spent years waiting for approval to research at the southernmost tip of the world. It would be a devastating blow to his career and his pride for it to be cut short. The selfish part of him wanted to stay. The rationale, reasonable part of him was aching to stay the full duration of the expedition.

"You know, Dr. Whitethorn," Dorian spoke carefully. "There is a reason we chose Aelin to accompany you. She may be green and lacking a doctorate, but she's a miracle worker at what she does."

"Are you asking me to put my life in the newbie's hands?" Rowan asked without his standard vitriol. The situation and the cold had left him with no energy to be spiteful. He'd heard talk of her capabilities amongst the guys, and he'd seen a fraction of it when their snowmobile broke down. Rowan thinks back to the look on her face when she'd gone down the stairs. The steely determination of a warrior marching off to do battle.

Dorian laughs as if there was something funny about two of his most stubborn colleagues getting stranded in the south pole by themselves. "I'm not asking you to do anything. It's your call."

Rowan closes his eyes and contemplates their options. His head told him they should call the extraction team before they were nothing but frozen corpses. Yet, his heart didn't want to leave so soon. There was still so much work left to do.

Could he rely on Aelin?

"We will stay for now. Expect a call in twenty-four hours with a progress update." Rowan disconnected the transmission without any of the standard formalities.

After the fruitless call, he checks their food supply. Rowan scans the shelves, comfortable they wouldn't go hungry any time soon. Their only concern would be keeping all their shit from freezing, including their water. Rowan triple checks that everything is insulated, sealed, and stored away before moving on to other essentials, like batteries.

Another hour passes as he takes inventory, and Rowan is starting to feel the cold more than before. His nailbeds slowly shift from blue to white beneath his thick gloves, and he can't control the slight quaking spreading up his limbs.

When Rowan hears the doorway to the stairwell creak, he goes to check in with Aelin on her progress.

What he finds when he opens the locker room door sends his heart to his throat.

Aelin's hands loosely grip the zipper of her jumpsuit as she weakly attempts to free herself. Her face is a ghostly white, and her movements sluggish.

If she weren't moving, he'd have thought she was already frozen.

"Aelin, are you good? Talk to me." Rowan rushes to her and helps Aelin step out from the jumpsuit.

"I fixed the engine," Aelin coughs into the crook of her arm, her voice scratchy from the cool air. "It will be a couple of hours before they can catch up and heat the building."

Rowan rips off a glove and holds a bare hand to her cheek. Aelin's skin is freezing to the touch, even to his own icy hands. He notes that she isn't trembling the same way he is. It's not a good sign, the biologist in him notes. He knows it's her body growing too weak to keep itself warm.

"Sit down. You're freezing," Rowan helps her slide to the floor and looks at the discarded jacket that's still lying there. It won't warm her quick enough.

"Rowan?" Aelin speaks from her slightly slumped position.

Rowan is pacing, trying to think. They don't have a means of warming water for a bath. Laying next to the generators is too risky.

"Rowan," Aelin murmurs, her eyes drooping. "I can't feel my feet."

Rowan looks at her, and for a moment, she looks like an ice princess. Her blond hair is slipping from its braid and coiling across her colorless face. The cerulean blue of her eyes was the brightest color he now saw regularly beside the southern lights. They stood out even more starkly now.

It was all wrong.

"It's going to be alright, Aelin. You said the power is back on?" Rowan lifts her into his arms, her freezing nose burrowing into the crook of his neck.

"Yeah," she rasps against his shoulder. "But it will take a while for the building to heat."

"We don't need the whole building to heat. Do you trust me?" Rowan trots down the hall, careful not to bump her against the narrow doorframes.

She mumbles something incoherent into his shirt. "I trust you."

Rowan is thankful that the cold keeps the flush from his face. He reaches the desired room and fiddles with the control panel on the wall. A wave of relief hits him as the room behind the heavy door audibly hums to life.

"Okay, here we go." He says more to himself than Aelin. Rowan ditches the jacket and pulls his long-sleeved tee over his head. The buttons of his pants are next, leaving him in only his boxers.

Turning around, Aelin looks weary but not surprised. "Nice abs."

"Thanks," He says and kneels next to her, eyes searching her face for permission.

Aelin dips her head, "I'm not shy, Whitethorn. Don't fret."

Rowan helps Aelin maneuver her stiff limbs out of her garments until she is left in nothing but her bra and panties. Her face is pained as even more of her is exposed to the cold.

"Hurts," Aelin grits through her teeth, and Rowan gathers her up again. The icy room is like barbs against his exposed skin, but he's not in a position to complain.

The minute he carries her into the balmy air of the sauna, Aelin flinches. "Oh, that smarts."

"I know. It's going to suck for a bit while your blood recirculates." Rowan consoles softly, knowing he would also feel the cramping as they got their blood moving.

Drastic temperatures changes weren't the ideal way to warm up, but they'd spent far too long in the cold. He needed to get Aelin shivering again. It was the body's natural defense against the cold, and when a person could no longer shiver, it meant they were dipping into the realm of hypothermia.

The sauna was an added addition for the comfort of the researchers who visited the Southern base. It was a great tool to warm people after spending hours in the harsh climate. He'd heard tales of it from colleagues who'd visited the base before but hadn't yet saught to use it himself. Rowan was too focused on the mission. It hadn't carried any appeal for him until this moment, and now he was beyond grateful for its existence.

Rowan sits on the floor instead of the bench so that Aelin can curl up comfortably in his lap. Skin-to-skin contact was one of the best ways to help a person regulate their body temperature. He soothes a calloused hand over the length of her arm, trying to spread what remained of his warmth to her skin.

Aelin's cheek rests against his chest, and Rowan uses one hand to free her hair from its braid. The curtain of gold fans across her back, and he has to resist the urge to run his fingers through its waves.

He'd noticed how beautiful she was the day they first met at the university. Out of respect, he'd immediately repressed those thoughts. They were professionals, and Rowan wasn't about to ruin his reputation fawning over the new, young blonde on their floor.

But with her laying half-naked in his lap, it was hard to disregard how pretty she was. It wasn't even just her appearance. The girl was magnetic in every way. People paid attention when she walked in, and she claimed the lion's share of air in the room.

Fenrys and Conall flirted with her remorselessly. It secretly irked him. Rowan had long since memorized the way she laughed and how she'd smile as she shoed them away. It was all good-natured fun for them, but it always made Rowan irrationally angry. The time she'd showed up at the annual Christmas party in a green velvet dress with an open back nearly left his brain on the floor. His eyes had raked the smooth plains of skin, only turning away when she'd tried to catch his eye.

If he'd been paying attention, he would have seen her look of disappointment.

Rowan had written it off as an infatuation—a natural response to seeing an attractive woman. The scientist in him wanted to boil it down to chemistry and hormones. Cold facts that could diagnose the way he felt every time he laid eyes on her. Yet, as Rowan laid there with a hurting Aelin in his arms, he began to wonder if there was something more.

Her pain was making his chest physically ache.

A pair of arms snaked around his waist, and his body jerked. Aelin looks up at him sheepishly. "Sorry, I'm just really comfortable."

Rowan relaxes, "It's fine."

The steam in the room is slowly building. Rowan can feel the cramping beginning in his legs. Aelin's weight on his thighs was not helping the slightest, but there was no way in hell he'd move her.  

"My body is aching," Aelin says lightly, but he can hear the strain in her voice and feel a slight tremble running through her.

"That's good. Can you feel your feet?" Rowan can no longer resist, and her hair parts between his fingers like strands of gold silk.

Aelin tightens her arms around him, "Yeah. A bit. I didn't realize how numb they got until I took off my boots."

There's a slight tickle at his back, Aelin's finger tracing a pattern against his skin. A flush of warmth rushes through him, not from the sauna.

He's in unending deep shit.

"Aelin," his voice wavers uncharacteristically. "Do you have a boyfriend?"

The fingers on his back continue making their delicate patterns. "No."

"Aelin?" He asks again, but she cuts him off with a groan.

"Stop asking me questions and just kiss me," Aelin grips the back of his head and pulls his lips down to her's.

An inferno blooms inside his soul.

Aelin could never be a winter queen. She was the raging embodiment of summer. A burning ember he'd carried from the north into this land of ice. As his lips move against hers, he swears his body is lit ablaze, and when Rowan opens his eyes, he's delighted at the flush he finds unfurling across her cheeks.

"It's suddenly a lot warmer." Aelin laughs, looking more lively even as her body starts to quake from the warmth finally reaching her.

He kisses her cheek and tilts her ear towards his lips, "Aelin?"

"Another question?" Aelin's smile curls into something feline. "Is this that scientific curiosity the university is always going on about?"

"I just realized I'm desperately in love with you,"

Rowan lets the truth fall from his lips. It was just the two of them. They were the only human souls in this far corner of the earth. There was no one to stop him as he finally lets the emotions he'd been repressing until the moment Aelin was in danger wash over him.

"That's not a question," Aelin responds after a moment, her tone light and jovial.

Rowan smiles. "It's not."

Aelin curls back up against Rowan, enjoying the feel of his skin against hers. An embarrassing sound of contentment escapes her, which worsens her blush.

Not forgetting their original purpose in the sauna, Rowan grips her hands and massages them between his. "You have no response?"

"Not one that HR is going to like." Aelin winces as her hand spasms, and Rowan methodically works to ease the ache.

"Say it anyway," Rowan implores. Screw the university. He was tired of living for his work alone. Nothing outshined this moment, holding this woman in his arms. He could find a new job, but if Aelin reciprocated his feelings, he couldn't find another one of her.

"Well, I thought it was pretty obvious when I wore that dress to the Christmas party and then found a reason to walk past your office every day." Aelin huffs and looks up at him, "Don't tell me you didn't know?"

Rowan was speechless.

Aelin's eyes twinkle with amusement. "Rowan, Dorian, and I are friends. Did you know that?"

"What?" Rowan blinks confusedly. That was common knowledge, but he didn't understand why she was bringing that up now.

"Dorian and I go way back. He knew I had a thing for you, and I told him sending me on this trip was unethical when I'm such a new hire-" Aelin trails off, waiting for him to grasp her point.

"Wait," Rowan looks down at her, bemused. "Dorian was trying to set us up?"

"Human recourses won't like that very much either," Aelin grins. "But Dorian would keep our secret. He owes me a lot of favors."

The sauna's temperature had slowly been rising, and Rowan could see that his skin was returning to its usual color. Aelin still looked a bit pale, but it was probably residuals from being so close to freezing.

She'd risked herself to save the expedition and successfully fixed the engines. Rowan didn't believe for one second that Dorian only sent her in an elaborate attempt to set her up. She was bright and cunning. He was lucky to have her along with him.

"You got here on your merit," Rowan presses a soft peck to her lips as he soothes her unvoiced concern. He refused to let her doubt her level of skill. "But if the feelings are mutual, I would love to take you on a date when we get back home?"

"I would love that," Aelin crawls off his lap and holds a hand out. "Come on, now. We need to eat and sleep. We have seals to observe."

Rowan accepted her hand. Forget the seals. He would have a difficult time keeping his attention on them. His eyes were glued to her bare legs as they moved and the way her hair swung free of its constraints.

She smirked over his shoulder. Aelin knew precisely what she was doing to him.

Rowan had traversed to the end of the world to understand the natural universe a little better. While he hadn't unlocked any great mysteries, he couldn't help but think what he did find was better.

[qvietrebellions]

it  looks  like  JOSEPHINE  TYRELL  ,  the  PRINCESS  of  HIGHGARDEN  is  prepared  to  play  the  game  of  thrones. you  know  ,  their  HIGH  -  SPIRITED  &  CULTIVATED  side  might  help  them  along  the  way,  but  their  OVER - INDULGENT  &  FANCIFUL  qualities  won’t  do  them  any  favours.  a  little  bird  told  me  that  they’re  currently  FOR  the  tyrell  rule  and  that  their  loyalties  lie  with  HOUSE  TYRELL. hm, interesting.  that  same  little  birdy  also  told  tales  of  a  brush  delicately  coloring  an  otherwise  dull  parchment;  "what  is  lineage,  if  not  a  gold  thread  of  pride  and  guilt?";  always  stretching  in  the  direction  of  the  sun.  will  they  win  ,  or  will  they  die ?

— STATISTICS

 full  name  :  josephine  aurelia  tyrell. alias    /    nickname    :    jo,  lia.  prefers  to  be  referred  by  posey. age  &  date  of  birth  :    eight  and  twenty;  372 a. c. place  of  birth :  highgarden,  the reach. gender  and  pronouns    :  demiwoman  and  she  /  they. orientation    :   bisexual  biromantic. title  /  occupation  :  princess  of  highgarden  and  of  westeros.  aspirant  artist  and  illuminator. father : addam  tyrell. mother : leona  tyrell, née  redwyne. siblings : willas ( older ), cassian  ( older  twin ), rhaella ( younger ). relationship status : unfortunately  betrothed  to  the  lord  heir  of  casterly  rock,  maxim  lannister.

faceclaim  :  alicia  von  rittberg. height  :  158  cm  /  5′2. hair  :  long  auburn  hair; it  curls  on  the  top  of  her  head,  with  baby  hairs  framing  her  face,  and  has  further  curled  due  to  extensive  plaiting. eye : hazel ( blue - green ). scars : a  few  nicks  and  blisters  on  her  hands  for  dealing  with  gardens, drawing  and  needlepoint; some  blisters  on  her  feet  due  to  tight  shoes. physical  afflictions : asthma, iron  deficiency, insomnia, mild  anxiety, possibly  adhd.

positive  :  warm,  generous,  eloquent,  artistic,  zestful. negative  :  non  -  commital,  self  -  willing,  egocentric,  dramatic,  spoiled. inspirations  :  elizabeth  of  york  (  history  ),  mary  tudor,  queen  of  france  (  history  ),  bianca  de  medici ( history + medici ), sisi ( history + several  tv  adaptations ), edwina ( bridgerton  books  and  tv  adaptation ), lucrezia  borgia ( borgia + history ).

— BACKGROUND

the  oldest  daughter,  but  second  youngest  child,  following  a  twin  brother,  josephine  was  born  tip  toeing  between  fortunate  and  unfortunate.  yes,  she  was  a  daughter  of  highgarden,  the  most  illustrious  and  royal  house  of  westeros,  but  she  had  also  been  born  a  weakling  thing,  too  small  and  prone  to  a  coughing  that  would  raise  concerns  of  all  who  cared  for  her.  from  this  infancy,  josephine  would  become  accustomed  to  the  fussing  of  nursemaids  and  maesters  who  would  tend  to  her  every  step.

like  a  rose  grown  in  a  glass  house,  josephine  was  nurtured  under  close  watch  and  a  tight  regime.  fearing  she  would  wilt,  the  sect  of  healers  would  follow  her  throughout  her  life,  poking  and  probing  and  assuring  she  was  of  good  health  and  good  disposition  —  the  later  was  not  always  an  easy  feat  when  she  was  sequestered  within  the  gilded  walls  of  highgarden,  but  she  learned  to  and  was  encouraged  to  distract  herself,  even  if  in  distance  of  the  boisterous  enjoyment  of  the  other  children  of  the  palace.

with  so  much  free  time,  they  molded  a  varied  palate  of  pastimes,  from  languages  to  music,  learning  to  both  write  and  speak  a  few  tongues,  and  both  play  and  write  some  instruments.  their  real  talent  and  merriment,  however,  would  come  from  the  arts.  instructed  by  the  hand  and  mastery  of  a  senior  scholar,  josephine  was  taught  how  to  sketch,  then  draw,  then  paint  —  it  mattered  not  the  subject,  nor  the  canvas  (  even  if  not  on  paper  )  nor  its  purpose  (  if  but  a  playful  doodle  to  distract  a  child  or  an  unassuming  architectural  project  for  a  forgotten  wing  of  the  palace  );  as  long  as  they  could  put  thought  to  paper,  they  were  content.

despite  enjoying  their  gilded  cage  (  and  there  could  be  no  denying  she  did  enjoy  all  sorts  of  glittery  things  ),  josephine  did  attempt,  now  and  then,  to  become  more  of  their  own  person.  they  begin  to  pick  their  own  food  (  too  much  green  and  too  many  sweets  ),  their  own  taste  of  fashion,  of  music  and  literature  —  and  even  their  own  name;  though  josephine  was  just  fine,  and  would  still  always  remain  their  official,  princess-y  name,  all  that  she  comes  across,  noble  born  or  not,  are  instructed  to  refer  to  her  as  posey,  something  they  thought  befitting  of  them  in  every  way.  they  also  began  to  extend  her  walks,  and  to  visit  oldtown  herself  and  to  take  her  sister’s  lessons  of  dancing,  which  had  been  denied  to  her  before  due  to  her  conditions.  though  she  did  become  tired  faster  than  her  peers  still,  she  did  not  rest,  and  would  soon  be  known  for  her  graceful  and  enthusiastic  manner.

by  the  time  her  brother  ascended,  officially,  as  king,  posey  knew  the  way  to  enjoy  their  life  —  oft  early  risings  and  always  late  nights,  they  enjoyed  being  one  of  the  very  last  to  retire,  tied  to  a  cards  table  or  engrossed  on  a  sketch  by  the  moonlight.  they  become  an  avid  patron  of  novices  and  masters  at  oldtown,  funding  their  artistic  and  medic  findings,  even  gaining  the  possibility  to  illustrate  a  couple  of  her  endorser’s  books  herself.  she  is  comfortable,  content,  spoiled  —  and  too  stubborn  to  move  out  of  this  comfort  as  well,  happier  to  be  by  highgarden  than  to  have  to  change  her  whole  world  for  the  sake  of  a  spouse.  her  family  is  patient  with  her,  this  can  not  be  denied,  indulging  her  denials  of  engagements  even  without  reason,  for  her  whims  seem  to  be  enough  so.

the  betrothal  with  the  lannister  has  displeased  and  soured  her  considerably.  convinced  they  would  be  able  to  escape  it  —  as  she  had  before  —  they  were  disappointed  to  be  lectured  and  dissuaded;  they  ended  up  acquiencing,  if  only  for  the  sake  of  their  brother  and  family.

still,  the  approaching  festivities  for  her  wedding  (  what  a  weird  thing  to  even  imagine  for  herself  )  makes  them  anxious,  as  they  can  not  imagine  themselves  away  from  highgarden,  nor  do  they  find  themselves  fitting  for  such  an  important  role.  yes,  she  may  have  been  bred  and  raised  for  it,  but  it  did  not  mean  posey  cared  for  ruling  or  the  machinations  of  court,  or  anything  but  courtly  enjoyment  and  gossiping  here  and  there.  but  then,  he  is  a  lannister  —  she  will  be  comfortable,  won’t  she ?  there’s  nothing  else  to  cling  to. at  least  she  has  stopped  wearing  a  dramatic  cut  of  mourning  for  her  own  self,  now  that  the  guests  have  begun  arriving.

— TIDBITS

despite  not  inclined  to  phisical  activities  of  the  outdoors  (  as  she  doesn’t  have  costume  nor  the  physical  ability  and  gets  tired  earlyish  ),  posey  adores  to  be  outside,  and  often  is  found  doing  what  she  can  outside,  either  that  be  with  her  needlepoint  hoops  or  sketchbooks  or  simply  hand  in  hand  with  her  maids.  

posey  adores  animals,  but  mostly  those  of  small  port  /  pets;  they  have  at  least  two  lapdogs  and  one  cat  (  besides  the  strays  they  would  beg  for  their  maesters  to  tend  to  ),  and  has  been  known  to  always  bug  the  staff  to  keep  bird  feeders  and  bowls  of  food  filled  for  special  visitors.

despite  their  love  for  luxury,  they  are  not  very  extravagant  dressers,  nor  are  them  too  bold.  they  do  enjoy  rich  fabrics  and  intricate  details  (  has  done  the  embroidery  of  some  of  her  gowns  and  acessories,  and  enjoys  wearing  her  sister’s  handmade  too  ),  but  the  cut  is  modest  enough.  she  does  like  acessories  and  jewerly  and  often  has  her  hair  done  well,  often  with  ribbons,  flowers  or  jewerly.

they  can  play  the  harp,  the  hapsichord  and  the  lute;  also  the  flute,  though  rather  badly.

quite  terrible  at  sleeping  or  just  staying  still.  pretty  much  relies  of  any  form  of  caffeine  found  on  westeros  at  the  moment.

loves  children.  is  terrified  of  having  one  of  their  own ( has  been  condicioned  to  believe  they  would  die  from  the  labor ),  but  loves  and  is  loved  by  them. in  an  ideal  world,  they  could  be  a  good  teacher.

if  her  family  have  their  oppositors,  the  same  can  not  be  stretched  to  posey.  yes,  there  are  probably  many  people  who  believe  them  to  be  entitled,  spoiled  or  even  an  unworthy  brat,  but  posey,  usually,  does  not  pay  much  mind  to  it  and  is  content  to  be  farly  adored  by  the  smallfolk  and  the  staff,  to  whom  she  is  generally  generous  and  kind  towards.

despite  their  undeniable  shelter-ness, posey  has  set  to  explore  the  reach  over  the  past  decade,  and  has  also  traveled  to  dorne  a  few  times,  alongside  their  twin. during  one  of  the  trips  to  the  arbor,  they  met  a  certain  harrion  pyke  and,  under  the  anonymity  of  an  alias  and  the  mask  of  a  maester - in - training, they  started  a  relationship  with  the  ironborn; it  would  spam  throughout  a  year,  with  infrequent  meetings  at  the  shores  of  blackcrown;  it  was  terminated  by  necessity  and  practicality,  as  they  assumed  he  was  dead  upon  no  returnal,  and  they  were  beckoned  to  prepare  to  their  own  nuptials. unbeknownst  to  them,  harrion  is  actually  quellon  greyjoy,  the  youngest  son  of  house  greyjoy,  and  is  very  much  alive.

[forcefulkitten]

peeping your neediness

[uvogin x fem! reader]

summary: Uvogin walks in on you pleasuring yourself and proceeds to give you what you truly needed.

warnings: 18+, nsfw, oral sex

word count: 1,573

After a long day of work, being home with a cup of tea and your favorite show after a shower was almost the best you could ask for. Almost, because the best would’ve been if your boyfriend Uvogin made it back from his work trip yet. His schedule was nothing ordinary, leaving him gone for months, weeks, days, who knows anymore. He made sure to call you every few days, since texting really wasn’t his thing. Hell, the man only calls because you text him asking for any sort of signal that he’s alright.

You found yourself thinking of all the ways you missed Uvo. How his muscles flexed with every movement he made. The way he smiled at you with feral intent whenever he needed you. The feeling of his hair in between your fingers. How his lips hit yours with such fiery passion, leaving your lips red and swollen. The husky breaths and moans he made into your ear while fucking into you with resistance so he doesn’t break you in half. How he cares for you afterwards with gentleness that you wouldn’t think is capable from a man of his size. Fuck, you missed him more than you thought.

Your neediness taking over, you powered off your television and made your way to your bedroom. Settling in, you decided to change into one of Uvo’s tank tops. Needless to say its more of a dress on you, but his scent lingered on this one shirt you decided not to wash so you can cuddle it when you miss him. 

Bringing your fingers between your legs, even just thinking about Uvo made you soaking wet. You pressed gently onto your clit, sighing when even the smallest bit of pressure made you sensitive. You began pumping a finger in and out of your sopping pussy, relishing in the way that your walls clenched around your finger. Sighing softly, you added another finger and fucked yourself with a need that wouldn’t be satisfied on your own. Now bringing your finger back to your clit, you played with your swollen bud while bringing your other hand down and pumping your fingers in and out of your hole at the same time. You were so close, calling out Uvo’s name like your life depended on it. Continuing your ministrations, your orgasm hit you in a wave of hot pleasure that left you a panting mess. It had been so long since you touched yourself, always opting to wait until Uvogin was home to give you everything your body needed. Laying spread out on the bed, you turned onto your side facing the wall with your hands between your thighs, just resting between your sex for the warmth it provided. You planned on getting up and taking another shower once your high wore off.

“Missed me that much?” Uvo chuckled.

His voice made you spring up into sitting position. When did he get here? How didn’t he make any noise? Had you been so occupied that you didn’t hear this giant trotting through your apartment?

“You fucking creep! You could’ve announced yourself and helped me out instead of just standing there!” You jumped straight into his arms and wrapped your legs around his torso, bringing him into a bruising kiss. “And interrupt that show you put on for me? Pfft, never.” He retorted. You really missed him, and he felt your need radiating off your body. You two made out sloppily, ready to explore each others bodies after being apart so long.

Holding you up with one arm, Uvo brings his other hand down to touch your folds, still wet but not yet ready to take him. He bites your lip and you let out a hiss, begging him to stop being a tease and he slides two of his fingers into you. You tangle your fingers into his hair, bringing your mouth to his neck and leave open mouth kisses all over. This drives Uvo mad, you know that he loves the way you pay attention to him even when your mind is clouded from the hot sensations coursing through your body. You’re bouncing up and down onto his two fingers, his name slipping from your lips into his ear. “Uvo, please, please ruin me.”

No need to ask twice. Uvo’s no scholar, but the man isn’t dumb at all, and he always meets your demands. You never had to ask him more than once about anything. The man loves you more than he loves himself, and he showed you this better than he could tell you.

Placing you onto the bed lightly, Uvo pulled you by your legs until your pussy was on the edge of the bed. He ducked his head in between your legs and began lapping at your wet tavern. Already sensitive from your previous orgasm, Uvo knew he needed to take it easy with you. He sucked at your clit with soft precision, then brought his tongue to lick at your hole. The pace he set was gentle but still so delicious. Your fingers grabbed at the sheets of the bed, grasping for any semblance of reality. “Fuck, you’re so wet.” He hissed out against your pussy and it sent vibrations straight through your body. Uvo brought two fingers into your hole, pumping in and out slowly. He focused his tongue and lips on your swollen bud, and you were so close to your second orgasm. Your heavy panting and bucking against his mouth told him the same, and he moved his face from between your legs before allowing you to cum. “No, sorry kitten. You’ve already cum by your own hands, so now you’ll cum on my cock.”

You whined as Uvo picked you up from the bed, plopping himself down with you on his lap. He brought your legs onto his shoulders, gripping you by your hips and holding all of your body weight in his hands like if you weighed nothing. Lining his cock up with your entrance, Uvo sunk you down onto his length painfully slow, allowing you to adjust to his sheer size. Giving a few tentative bounces, Uvo began picking up the pace. You grasped his forearms, trying to balance yourself, knowing regardless he is strong enough to hold you on his own. Squelching noises and loud moans from the both of you filled the room and his thrusts became harder as your noises spurred him on. You felt your orgasm building in your core because his cock hit your G spot beautifully in this position. Uvo bucked into you relentlessly, making you scream out as tears began to well in your eyes. He took notice of this and slowed down, asking “Baby, is it too much? I’ll slow down, I’m sorry princess.” You felt your heart warm at the fact that he was so caring even during these intense moments, you whined “I’m fine, I love you Uvogin. Use me, please just use me.” His eyes were mesmerized by your boobs bouncing up and down and the way your pussy practically sucked him back in when he pulled out. You made him into even more of a feral man and your desire for him turned him into putty in your hands, his main goal always to please you and have you all fucked out. 

He let go of your hip with one of his hands, wiping the tears that fell down your face. Bringing you into a searing kiss, your tongues fought for dominance that Uvo let you have because he was too busy fucking into you. You tangled your fingers into his hair, one of his arms on your hip, the other holding your face into his neck while he bounces you on his cock. His breathing was becoming erratic, you knew he was close. The pleasure that was building in your body was consuming all of your senses. You began fucking yourself onto him with any strength you could muster and he grunted your name out in between breaths. This sent you over the edge, your cum releasing all over his length as he tried his best to continue his ministrations even though you were clamping down on his cock so beautifully.

“I want you to cum for me Uvo, stuff me full of your seed, please daddy.” You whispered into his ear, and he turned his head to kiss your lips and then bit down to tease you. A few more heavy thrusts and he pulled you all the way off him before slamming you fully onto his cock, rolling his hips while his cock shoots thick ropes of cum into you. The feeling of his orgasm inside of you made you moan and whine while Uvo was grunting and breathing heavily. He kept you onto his softening cock, which was still huge even when flaccid. Uvo laid back, opting for some cockwarming. You were sure that there would be a round 2 since he just got back home, and you didn’t mind at all. He reached for your blanket and draped it over your body and you began to fall asleep on top of him. His heartbeat and scent always brought you comfort and lulled you into a slumber. Uvogin made sure to stay up until you were asleep before whispering “I love you more…”He definitely wanted a round 2, but he’d grant you both a nap first.

[inkweaver22-blr]

Welcome to chapter nine! This one was meant to just be another filler with one of my own AU’s, but Tang just had to be introspective and have a moment of character growth. Hope you enjoy!

EDIT: This chapter has been edited to include some new info dropped on the same day I originally posted this! More info in the End Notes!

AO3 Link

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Scattered Cicadas - Chapter Nine: Rocks and Roles

Tang knows how to act. That doesn't mean he likes to play every part.

----------

Tang liked to think of himself as a decent actor, at least back in the original timeline. He had been part of the theater class in high school and telling stories required a bit of a dramatic flair if you wanted to keep your audience entertained. Convincing Pigsy he was a popular food critic hadn’t been too hard back then.

The many cycles he had been through had certainly helped polish his skill into a genuine talent. That one time where he and everyone else had been professional actors playing the roles of themselves from the original timeline as part of a show had especially allowed him to hone himself to a greater degree than before.

Being stuck jumping through time had practically made it a necessity.

It wasn’t that Tang enjoyed what was essentially lying to his family. It was more for their protection. He had almost broken the “No Interference” rule a few times when he hadn’t properly reacted to events that, while shocking or upsetting to his family, were simply part of his routine by now. He couldn’t allow the repetitive nature of the cycles to make him slip up and potentially cause more harm by being confronted by his lack of surprise or fear.

So he acted. He gasped at all the right moments or screamed in fear when in danger. Every laugh, every sigh of exasperation, every freak out over something related to Wukong was perfectly performed so as to not to raise suspicion. So long as the proper reaction occurred in response to the correct effect, everything went smoothly.

It wasn’t too hard or taxing as he never needed to fake his enjoyment of being around his family. Luckily for him, he also didn’t have to act exactly as he had been in the original timeline, or he may have gone insane from the monotony of it.

The cycles where his background was entirely rewritten were blessings in disguise, really. They were new. Fresh experiences for Tang to have and not have to work as hard to realistically react to.

He treated them like a method acting exercise. The new memories as part of Tang’s new backstory was the motivation for the ‘character’ he was playing. He didn’t have to fully adhere to them, but they certainly helped him play the role provided to him for the cycle.

He still disliked playing the villain however.

It happened a few times before already. The most notable had been when Zhu Bajie was in the role of Sun Wukong as MK’s mentor.

Tang shuddered at the memory of that timeline.

Saying that version of him had been unhinged was severely downplaying the many atrocities he had performed on both himself and others. Committing suicide to erase his name from the books of the dead, killing demons to absorb their lifeforce, and cutting open his own chest to manually insert the gem holding that lifeforce into himself for power were simply the tamer actions he had committed.

He supposed that heartbreak, jealousy, and internalized insecurities could drive even the most benign people to madness so long as they properly justified their actions to themselves.

It had been the first time in quite a while that Tang seriously considered intentionally breaking the interference rule and just running off to live in solitude for the entire cycle. Getting “redeemed” had been one of the most difficult things he had tried to pull off.

Tang dodged a swipe from the Monkey King’s staff as he was brought back into the present.

He was the villain once again this cycle. Luckily though, he was much less of a threat to his family this time around.

He was replacing Red Son as the demon child of Demon Bull King and Princess Iron Fan.

Tang, Son of the Earth.

He wasn’t the only one who was switched around. Pigsy, who went by Bajie, was a human who had become Wukong’s successor. MK was a boar demon who ran the noodle shop. Red Son was a scientist and engineer who frequented the restaurant.

It was almost an opposite reflection of the cycle he had just been musing about.

“You’ll have to do better than that, noodle boy,” Tang taunted as he swung his arms to pull chunks of stone from the ground, his hands and the Earth he controlled both glowing with a golden-yellow light.

He supposed that it made sense for him to have some sort of elemental power if he was this timeline’s Red Son. Earth fit as he had certainly mellowed out over the course of the cycles, becoming more focused and self assured. His original self would have most certainly been associated with air with how flighty he had been.

Tang made sure to keep his full concentration as he attacked Bajie. Earth may be the element of the sturdy, but it had the potential to be much more volatile than fire. It was easy to let loose and cause a catastrophic earthquake. It took precision to control smaller pieces of rock without causing too much collateral damage.

Bajie batted away the earthen projectiles with ease and rushed into an opening Tang had intentionally left. He had to do his best to not rely on the fighting skills he had from previous cycles and use only what his memories knew when playing a villain. Otherwise he’d easily beat the fledgling hero and that certainly would be treated as interfering.

Tang winced as the staff connected with his ribs and sent him flying. He coughed as he pulled himself up, holding his injured side as he glared at the now smirking Bajie.

“How’s that for better!”

“This isn’t over,” Tang cried out dramatically. He activated his powers, this time summoning a whirlwind of sand to teleport away.

Another scene as the villain successfully played out.

----------

Tang sat in his workshop, calculating the specific size of a rune circle he would need.

It seemed that similarly to how Red Son was a genius that incorporated magic into science, this version of Tang was one who incorporated science into magic. Not a big distinction, but important in how the process worked. It still took an impressive amount of knowledge on both subjects to work them together in the end.

Setting his pen down to take a break, Tang looked around as he stretched. He caught his reflection in a nearby piece of metal machinery he had been fiddling with and examined himself once again.

He didn’t look too different from his human self, his face remaining the same. His hair was now a dark brown with yellow highlights and his glasses were much smaller. The biggest difference were the bull horns sticking out of the side of his head.

He didn’t mind them too much, but having to give up any pull over shirt for button downs was a hassle.

Looking at his horns lead the demon scholar to think about his parents in this timeline.

Demon Bull King and Princess Iron Fan.

Tang frowned as he recalled the less than comforting welcome he had received after returning from his defeat. The disapproving dismissal from his father and scathing taunts from his mother had been demoralizing. It would have hurt more if he hadn't had the years of time jumping behind him.

If this was how Red Son was commonly treated, it was no wonder he worked hard in everything he did just to gain a scrap of approval and praise.

And yet he knew they loved each other. The moments he noticed didn’t happen often, but he could tell that his parents held some affection for him, and he obviously cared for them. He just didn’t understand why they acted so cruelly to one another.

Was it a demon thing? Were they afraid that by showing their love they were showing weakness?

That was certainly possible, but Tang disagreed with the sentiment. He had been through enough cycles to see that love made one stronger. It wasn’t the weakness their enemies thought it was.

Tang was already planning on becoming redeemed in this cycle. It hurt to think his parents would disown him, but what if that didn’t have to happen?

He thought about that one specific cycle and how he had become so twisted. All of it could have been avoided had his past self simply let go of his long held beliefs and went with Bajie.

Now he just had to make two powerful demons do just that.

Tang was an amazing actor.

He also had many years of watching the people around him and knew most of them almost better than they knew themselves.

His current parents were no exception.

He could see the potential for a loving and healthy family, buried just beneath the surface.

It would take some work, but he was sure he could unearth it and polish that potential until it shined.

With renewed energy, Tang pulled out a blank scroll and began planning.

He had a family to save.

----------

Welcome to what I’m calling the Noodle Swap AU! It is named that way because the only change is that the pairs that make up the two most popular noodle ships (SpicyNoodles and FreeNoodles) swap places!

Shout out to @winterpower98 for their amazing Actor AU and Dad Swap AU mentioned in this chapter! Go check them out!

Yes, yes, I know I’ve basically made Tang here Terra from Teen Titans. Most people would give him Air as an element, but 1) we already have an Air user in Princess Iron Fan and 2) Tang has changed quite a bit since the start of this Time Hopping experience, as he states himself in the chapter.

I do genuinely believe there’s a loving family hidden somewhere underneath all the cruelty the DBK crew throw at each other. It’s already been hinted that Red Son will get a redemption arc in the show, but I want one for his parents too.

That’s all for now! See you in the next chapter!

:IMPORTANT EDIT!!!!:

There's been a few paragraphs changed and added to include the new canon lore for Tang in the Dad Swap AU! Go check out @kitkat1003's absolutely ASTOUNDING work, When the Tide Pulls Away and the Earth Sharpens to Steel! It is INCREDIBLE and if it was finished, you'd absolutely know there would be an entire chapter dedicated to it here.

[skellebonez]

Smoke, Flasks, and Unfinished Tasks: Chapter 10

AO3 Link!

Chapter 1 Link!, Chapter 2 Link!, Chapter 3 Link!, Chapter 4 Link!, Chapter 5 Link! Chapter 6 Link! Chapter 7 Link! Chapter 8 Link! Chapter 9 Link!

Summary: While the trio and Jin are in the Calabash, the family they left behind try to figure out what to do without falling apart at the seams.

Warnings: Mentions of mouth related injury, self depreciation and negative self talk.

Author’s note: Happy Season 2 premier in a few hours from posting this everyone!

Chapter 10: In The Meantime, Stay With Me

When Iron Fan had said she could get them everything they needed, Pigsy was not expecting that to be a nearly literal statement.

It had taken no time at all for the bull clones to set up a a veritable base of operations for them to use. Long rectangular tables set up and pushed together to make one large enough for DBK to maneuver things on a map, various types of technology that clearly had red Son's handiwork on them around the edges of the map. They used pieces from a mahjong set to mark spots on the map, barring the bonus tiles of seasons and flowers which would be used should they run out of others (and if they did they would allow themselves the worry they were pushing deep down for the moment) and the three dragon tiles. Green for Mei, Red for Red Son, and while Pigsy felt the White tile wasn't the most fitting for MK it was easiest for cohesion.

They had everything laid out in front of them, each location they checked marked off with a numbered suit tile (all bamboo used up first, then moving on to dots, and once those were finished they would use the characters). The 4 winds marked the four major locations they felt needed to be tracked, barring Flower Fruit Mountain as they eliminated the possibility of anyone reaching there outside of PIF, Wukong, and MK themselves: The Bull Family homestead, a temporary place reminiscent of Fiery Cloud Cave just outside the city where they were currently pooling all their resources. Pigsy's Noodles, the obvious place for the trio to go if they managed to escape themselves. The tea shop that the Spider Queen made them aware of.

And one final tile left sitting to the side, ready to be placed should the tea shop lead them somewhere else. They had doubts that the trio would still be there, though did not discount the possibility, since it would be risky to not take them to a secondary location if they knew the Spider Queen had prying eyes. And most everyone who could have pulled this off must have known that to an extent.

Pigsy wished that they could have used some of Red's tech instead of a too large map and mahjong tiles... but most of his tech was locked up tight and none of them really knew how the tech he left with his parents worked anyway. Not even they had a good handle on it, he was the one who typically ran everything when they were all together and he had programmed the operating system to his own needs. While they would have been able to figure that out in time, and Sandy was doing his very best to work out how to unlock some of the devices and would eagerly transfer everything they had on the tables into whatever programs they could access, they knew time was not in their side.

As DBK and PIF and Wukong mulled over who to send to the tea shop and where else they could look if they weren't there, Tang was nose deep in his own phone. Signal was shocking good here, all things considered, and once everything had been established he had started to scroll through social media once again just like he had when the search began. One site, another site, refresh, scroll back up, another site, back to the first, refresh refresh, scroll again.

He hadn't stopped for almost half an hour... and nothing had been found, Pigsy could tell by the shake in his hands and shoulders and the frown on his face.

"Hey," he said softly, reaching out to touch his shoulder. Tang jumped, too immersed in his search and easily startled before he realized who was talking to him. "Come on, I... I don't think we're gonna find anything like that."

"I have to do something, Pigsy," Tang said firmly, refreshing the page he was on once again and grimacing.

There was an edit of the trio someone had posted, a news photo, filtered in bright colors and emoji hearts. "Our Heroes!" laid out on top. Tang almost threw the phone down on the table, just barely managing to slam it down instead and drawing the shocked attention of everyone else as he buried his face in his hands and took a deep calming breath.

Pigsy waved them all off with a frown, and only turned back to Tang when they turned away from them both,

"Tang, this is just makin you upset. You-"

"Have to do something," Tang repeated, shaking his head and looking back up at Pigsy. He looked so tired. They all were, he supposed. "I'm just me. I can and I will help look for them and fight, and you will not be able to stop me, but I can't do... anything else here. I'm not a strategist, I'm not that good with tech, you don't need grunt work done with the Bull Clones around... the best I can do it recite stories about the Monkey King to help us figure out who this could be. And the person who did this might not even be an old enemy!"

"I ain't doin much either," Pigsy rebutted, gesturing over to the unlikely trio of ancient beings across from them. "They may be deferring to me for the final say, but I'm relying on what they tell me to make that choice." He moved, sitting beside the scholar without taking his hand off his shoulder. "So lets distract each other. Work on something else. Maybe whoever did this isn't an old enemy of ours, but maybe they are. Think of anyone who might still be around to hold a grudge and tell me their story."

Tang sat still for a few minutes instead of answering, just leaning into Pigsy and looking down at his shaking hands before they saw the shadow of a Bull Clone fall over the table. Pigsy recognized this one, the only one dressed in attire. A cape to be specific. PIF had introduced him as General Ironclad 2.0, one of the many recommissioned Bull Clones that had to be rebuilt after... The White Bone Spirit.

He placed a tray in front of the duo, two hot cups of tea and two sticks of Tanghulu candied fruit between them (and that was a strange sight, here in this cave, and Pigsy wondered if it was DBK or PIF who had a taste for the treat enough to just have it available like this). Like all the Bull Clones he said nothing, at least nothing that Pigsy or Tang could understand, and bowed before taking his leave.

Pigsy chanced a glance over to the working trio, catching DBK watching them from the corner of his eye. Wukong had a sad smile on his face as he talked while Iron Fan looked... well, he couldn't really tell. She didn't seem annoyed or frustrated, more confused than anything else as she glances up at her husband. DBK gave them a small nod before turning his gaze back to the map.

It was bizarre to him to see them like this. Sun Wukong without his overly enthusiastic smile and laugh or battle roar grimace. Princess Iron Fan without a scowl or a evil smirk of victory and cruelty. The Demon Bull King without his frustration and anger. Now working together for the first time in centuries, possibly ever to his knowledge as he had no idea whether or not Wukong and PIF ever actually did anything together with DBK before he was trapped under that mountain. He... he should have asked the person he once considered to be as close as a brother more about his life before. During the journey they took, before he vanished never to be seen or heard from for 500 years before showing up again just to give the kid he considered his son his mantle.

Maybe... maybe he wouldn't have left if he had.

There was no point dwelling on the past like this, however. Not now. Instead he picked up one of the tea cups and held it in his hands, the warmth not needed in the heat of the cave but still welcome. As welcome as the heat against his shoulder as Tang stayed leaning against him. In time he felt the man move in the same way, holding his own tea cup before taking a sip and sighing.

"You know..." He started slowly, reaching out to take a piece of candied fruit off the stick. The crunch was loud in the quiet of the cave and he spoke with his mouth full. "I have been thinking... Jin and Yin..." He swallowed, frowning. "They shouldn't really be here based on the stories I have learned. The Spider Queen too, I thought for the longest time she died with her sisters, until a few years before meeting her anyway And MK told us about... Macaque." Pigsy frowned deeper at the name, remembering those few days when the Monkie Kid had been run ragged and seemed easy to anger and more eager to please than usual making the tea taste bitter in his mouth. "And he shouldn't be around either. I have my theories, immortality and desires to return to what they were doing before their defeats and all that. But I was wondering..."

Tang paused, sipping his tea before choosing his words carefully.

"Maybe even more of your enemies.... aren't as dead as everyone thought they were?"

~

Yin scowled. That was the most he could do in his current state. Scowl at the door he was trapped behind.

If he tried he could have probably broken it down. But Princess Jade Face hadn't left. She could have, but he doubted it. She could have done a lot, but every time he tried to guess she hadn't.

He was so stupid...

He hadn't tried to talk his brother out of this arrangement, he hadn't stopped him from making her mad enough to use the smoke, he hadn't thought to check to make sure she was gone when they tried their escape plan.

He could have done so much but hadn't.

He wished his brother was there. It didn't feel right to be alone. They'd been together for as long as he could remember, they were twins after all. Sure, they had spent time apart, but never like this. Not like this. And Yin was cold and alone and Jin wasn't anywhere he could reach.

Yin was alone and he hurt everywhere.

It must have been the smoke itself. It wasn't like a truly hurtful pain, he was able to go about whatever he needed to do. It was a dull pain, like his entire body had been grabbed to harshly and squeezed all over. But he could do what he needed to, like eat. Princess Jade Face had even been "nice" enough to even give him food and water. Good food, surprisingly, meat buns that filled him up nice and good and made his stomach stop aching like it was going to devour him from the inside out.

That made him feel guilty. Jin hadn't eaten as long as he had. He hoped that she hadn't deactivated the part of the Calabash that would trick the person in it into thinking they weren't hungry... or maybe he should hope she had. He didn't like the idea of his brother slowly starving to death while he was filled up with good treats. If he hadn't remembered his brother yelling at him not to let good food go to waste all that time ago, before they managed to open their business and find something they were actually good at, the nausea he felt at that would have made his throat burn.

He wondered if she only fed him to keep him quiet.

It was pointless to think about that right now, though. It was pointless to worry about his brother.

He had to think of a plan. One that had more than two steps. One that actually worked for once in his damned life, one that would actually help them and get them somewhere than hurt and cold and alone and sad and in pain. Unlike all their other plans. Like with Sun Wukong. And MK in the Calabash. The race, though that one was fun.

The only other plan that had ever worked out for them was their job selling tech to other demons, but look where that got them now.

Yin winched as he grit his teeth and pain shot through his upper jaw, reaching up to the spot where one of them was now missing. Jade Face had come in to check on him and found him holding it. He had apparently hit himself hard enough on the way down to knock it out the last time she administered the smoke to his face.

It had already been chipped, weakened from another scrap the twins had gotten into with another demon. Yin wondered if his reflection would make him look like the younger twin he was now, with the gap in his smile.

Yin shook his head, curling in on himself and scowling at the door again.

He was so stupid...

But he would think of a way to get his brother back.

[passivenovember]

Tetherball : Harringrove April Day One

Also on ao3

--

Steve put his seatbelt on that first day, when Billy stepped out of his chariot across school grounds, taking inventory of things as they were. Life as Steve knew it.

Nancy in the seat next to him.

First period chemistry, English, Geology, lunch. Steve took note of the periwinkle tones in the sky, the rumble of the cafeteria on pizza day, the smell of the library and the way the books turned on you if there were late fees to be settled.

Everything fell into bullet points across worn pavement.

Then versus now. Before and after.

Steve said goodbye to planet Earth that day, whether he knew it or not. Whether he found it favorable. The rumble of an engine beneath his feet changed Steve's perception, and the weight of two blue medallions grew and grew until Steve had learned the facts.

William Hargrove went by Billy. And he had tumbled in from California, presumably naked on a sea shell, where Billy’s stepsister doused hatred like a flame in the ocean under skies full of seagulls and cotton candy wisps.

He wore elevens in converse and a large Hawkins Phys Ed t-shirt that popped seams across his biceps but went soft and wavy in the middle.

Not like it mattered, though.

William went by Billy and he called skins as soon as coach blew the whistle. His t-shirt never made another appearance after that.

--

That's all Steve needed to know, right? The basics. California and step sisters, William instead of Billy, and the sound of rubber on polished oak.

But that's the funny thing about revelations.

Facts are different when colored by opinions, and Steve felt them dropping like coins from the hole in his pocket. As he got to know Billy the bullet points that had taken over Steve's mind rippled and glimmered in the light of first period. Changing.

He observed.

Wondered.

Obsessed.

Developing thoughts about who Billy was and, eventually, the person he pretended to be. Steve wasn't interested in the line Billy drew around the two halves of a whole. Any of the masks he wore in the cafeteria around princesses and prom queens versus the man Steve saw in second period English, who was.

Soft spoken and thoughtful. Every pastel shade in the sky versus brash and heated sunsets over barley.

Flame and sea, like a burning ship at war.

Steve wasn't interested but he learned anyway. Took notes, eyes tracking the brush of Billy's thumb on his bottom lip, brows pinching in concentration as he deciphered the root of a poem in ten seconds flat. The curl of his lips when we took his paper from Mr. Terrine. How he always had an extra pencil for anyone who needed it.

Before long Steve aced his exam in AP Hargrove and failed where everyone else said it mattered.

Got himself a tutor.

Blue eyes to pin him in place, pink lips to seal the passage between worlds. Steve wasn't interested in spending his afternoons under a tetherball, smacking brightly colored plastic out of his face as Billy read to him from a textbook while his sister. Max (step sister, Billy's voice supplied), kicked some girls ass on on the skateboard during softball practice.

"Should we try it once more?" Billy's patient. Steve wasn't expecting that.

He smacks the ball away again. "I've learned a lot about you, but I wasn't expecting this."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Y'know." From across the playground Max teaches her girl how to kick flip. Steve doesn't think that's right. He shrugs anyway. "Smarts. Like, AP biology, Valedictorian, Brain stew smart."

They've been studying together for weeks.

Four weeks. Seems like more with the slide of Billy's shoulder against Steve's arm, blonde ringlets dodging the tetherball as it swings overhead. Billy's fingers brush the open faced textbook, mouth serious but eyes soft. Sparkly, like a discarded bag of glitter.

"Maybe you should pay more attention to the prose."

"Maybe I can do both at the same time." Steve fiddles with the edge of the notebook, nodding as Billy grins. "Alright, goldilocks, tell your silly little story."

He does.

The green eyed boy in the powder blue shirt standing next to you in the supermarket recoils as if hit,

repeatedly,

by a lot of men, as if he has a history of it.

Steve leans back against the rusty iron pole, feeling the weight of the tetherball on one side of his head, and. The brush of golden curls on the other. He closes his eyes, feeling a voice more than hearing it.

That is not your problem. You have your own body to deal with.

The lamp by the bed is broken--

"Are you following?" Billy asks. He moves, knees drawn up so the book is balanced close to the curve of his chin. Close to the split in the universe. "We're getting into muddy waters here--"

"'S not that muddy."

"Sure it is." Billy's cheeks flush, pink paint across the bridge of his nose. He moves against Steve's arm, elbow knocking into ribs. "Tell me what you think is happening."

Steve thinks about it.

Knocks Billy's arm away gently, closing his eyes. "Read some more and then we'll talk."

Billy does.

The lamp by the bed is broken. You are feeling things he is no longer in touch with a nd everyone is speaking softly, as if not to wake one another.

The wind knocks the heads of the flowers together. Steam rises from every cup at every table at once.

Things happen all the time.

Things happen at every minute that have nothing to do with us.

Billy stops reading and Steve peeks at him through an eye half-lidded, curious. "Is that the end of the story?"

"Poem."

"Huh." Steve straightens, moving his legs this way and that. "Felt like a story."

Billy mirrors him exactly, closing the textbook and grabbing his pencil. "That's interesting."

And the way he says it. While flipping through his pea-green fivestar spiral, makes it feel wrong. Stupid.

Steve smacks distantly at the sky. "No it's not."

"Sure it is. Siken's poems are very lyrical. They paint images, vivid images, and sometimes I can imagine myself doing what the lines convey."

Steve grins. "You can imagine yourself in bed with another man?"

Steve isn't interested in the answer but he's interested in the feeling, the glint of emotion behind a wall of powdery blue. It doesn't seep through the cracks, though, it's contained. If Steve wants to find the center, he'll have to dig.

Billy doesn't miss a beat. "If that's what you think the poem's talking about, sure."

"Of course that's what it's talking about."

"How so?"

Steve laughs at that, rubbing against Billy's side. "You sound like a scholar."

"Is that so wrong?"

"No." Steve says thoughtfully. "'S cute."

Billy doesn't crack. Not in the way Steve's used to. No fingers in his hair, spinning spools of gold as he peeks at Steve through thick lashes. Instead he makes a note of it, whatever it is they're saying. Scribbling Steve's interpretation on one side of the blank page, dividing the two halves with a thick black line.

Billy intends to find the truth. "The protagonist is in love with the man at the supermarket? Is that what you're saying."

"I guess."

Billy rolls his eyes. "Your intent has to be clear. Poetry is all about interpretation; if you don't attempt to bridge the divide--"

"All right, Einstein." Steve plays along. "Sure."

Billy's eyes flash victorious as he clicks the pen trigger. "What makes you say that?"

"The way he's obsessed with him."

"The way the narrator is obsessed?" Billy leans forward, intent. "With the man in the grocery store?"

"What makes you deny it?" Steve wonders, folding his legs beneath him so they're crisscross applesauce.

Billy leans back against the pole, casual and easy. "I'm not the one failing English."

"No, but you are the poet." Steve counters. "Dude, I know you have an interpretation. I know you have thoughts, so. Just tell me."

Billy turns to face the playground.

Max skates circles around her girl, smiling in the way Billy does when he's got Steve pinned on the court. Like a predator. Pushing and pulling back just enough to leave the girl chasing after her, enough to catch herself before Max has a chance to get her claws out.

It's incredible, Steve thinks, how much Billy is just like his sister.

"I think he's using him."

Steve cocks his head, curious.

"The man with the blue shirt." Billy opens the textbook and reads the part about the lamp again, peeking up at Steve through frizzy curls. "The narrator says we are feeling things the man is no longer in touch with."

Steve leans forward. "Like love?"

Billy thinks about it. "No."

"Connection, then."

"If they're sleeping together it's more than just sex." Billy counters, "More than just carnality."

Which.

Steve frowns. "People fuck all the time without connecting."

"Really?"

"Yeah." Steve thinks about rattling down his list. The girls, the guys, the one night stands and bullshit post-game hook ups.

Billy fiddles with the edges of his notebook almost. Shyly. "People have sex because they're in love."

Steve snorts. "There's a million reasons to fuck outside of love."

Billy's eyes flash hard with.

Something. He bares his teeth. "Yeah? Like what?"

"I dunno. Breakup sex, makeup sex, sorry for burning a hole in your prom dress sex--"

"Gross."

"Point is." Steve looks at Billy. Studies him, the freckles across his upper lip, the scruff along his jawline. "Sex and emotion don't have to exist within each other."

Billy stares back at him, eyes wide and distant. Closed off.

He writes something on Steve's half of the notebook. "I disagree."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." Billy tosses his pen to the ground. "Our narrator says the man in the blue shirt has a history of being hit by other men."

"So?" Steve has trouble following at the best of times, and this.

The way Billy is worrying the skin on his fingers, nails catching and tearing in places they don't belong, feels important.

Billy shrugs. "Why would he sleep with a man without knowing his heart?"

"Maybe he just wants to feel something."

"Or maybe he wants to connect." Billy turns to look out across the playground once more, fingers tugging at the edge of his notebook. "Maybe he's existing in this bubble, like. This silent world with a tiny room where everyone is speaking softly out of respect. Maybe he chooses the wrong person because it's better than feeling half alive."

Steve knows they aren't talking about the poem anymore.

He tugs the notebook from Billy's hands, flipping through a million and one handwritten theories and observations. Billy lets him. Lets Steve look through his life and into his mind before handing the spiral back and asking, "Have you ever picked the wrong person?"

Billy doesn't say anything and then; "Yes."

"How come?"

"Everybody's wrong if you squint hard enough."

Steve nods, looping his arms around his knees. "And I'm assuming you didn't sleep with any of them."

He doesn't expect Billy to answer. It's not like they owe each other anything, honesty or otherwise. Billy leans back against the pole once more. From where their bodies are pressed together Billy feels feverish. Incendiary.

Billy clears his throat. "Or the opposite."

Which catches Steve off guard.

Billy watches him for a moment, eyes dark and serious. "I don't think the narrator sleeps with the man in the blue shirt. Maybe he intends to. Take the guy home, make a couple drinks, blaze trails into something previously unknown to him or maybe just. A feeling he hasn't felt in a while. But intimacy isn't always about sex."

Steve snorts. "I can't think of anything more intimate than being inside another person."

"But you are inside them, just. Not in the way you expected."

Steve glares out over the playground. The sun will be setting soon, blacktops and brown fields painted in shades of red and orange. The whole world will catch on fire but Steve feels the beginning, coals glowing bright red under the line of his ribcage when he turns to find blue eyes on him.

Dousing the fire, or maybe.

Raising the stakes. His eyes flit across Billy's forehead, brushing over his lips and coming to rest on his eyelashes. Feathery and soft, like the arms of a teddy bear. Steve licks his lips, going up in flame when Billy's eyes track the movement.

"I lied." Steve says.

Billy doesn't look away. "I'm not sure what you--"

"The first time a boy ever kissed me." Steve says. "When a boy kissed me because he wanted to, that was more intimate than anything I'd ever felt before."

Billy's gaze falls impossibly lower, tracing the swell of Steve's lips. "How did it feel?"

And he says it like.

He couldn't possibly know.

And Steve says, "Like my heart was taking root," like.

Let me show you.

Billy takes a deep breath. "I don't think I've ever felt like that."

"Never?"

"Not once."

From across the playground Max's answering laugh makes Billy's skin turn gold. Caramel, ice cream topped with sugar. Steve feels his body inching closer, mouth opening as if to taste love on the air.

[m34gs]

I saw you reblog some of my merlin posts, do you have any recs 👀

Recs you say?...Recs....hmmm, recs indeed. I have recs. For what? A whole plethora of things. So I'll give you a few of each:

(This'll be long, and potential spoilers for things so I will put the rest under a cut here!)

First up, the fanfics! This is the reason I took so long to answer...it's been a long time and I first read Merlin fics when I was new to AO3, so I didn't know how to bookmark yet. I had to hunt through my history for these:

1. Connecting the Dots by Rona23: this is a funny crack fic where the knights of Camelot speculate about Merlin and all the goings on around Camelot, and what really might be happening. It's fun, lighthearted, and full of situational irony. Makes me grin just thinking about it.

2. Lost in Forever by Camelittle: A cute sort-of fix-it fic. Takes place after the big battle in Season 5. Arthur is alive and at the castle recovering with his knights. Merlin is nowhere to be found, but a crotchety old sorcerer is giving Arthur grief as he goes on a quest to find his manservant. Very endearing, I highly enjoyed this.

3. how to knight (orphan_account): this one follows some original characters who are new knights of Camelot. They are given a secret set of instructions by the older knights, mostly pertaining to Merlin and Arthur and what to Never Do. Very cute. Only 2 chapters, but I enjoyed it very much.

Alright, let's move on! Recs for books that have some similar aspects! Let's goooo:

1. The Faithful and the Fallen series by John Gwynne, a fantasy series set in a medieval time period. This is a series about a prophecy involving the Champions of two gods fighting to determine which god would win and rule the land. The fun thing here is that there is a prophecy, but it is very open to interpretation which allows everyone to have their own motives and drives. There is a variety of characters and I really enjoyed this series. The first book is titled "Malice". There may not be dragons, but there are giants, magic, spirits, wolves, and other fun aspects!

2. The Ranger's Apprentice series by John Flanagan. Medieval fantasy? Yup. Variety of characters? Yup. Underdog as the main character? Yes indeed. Enemies-to-friends(to potentially lovers if you wanna stray from canon)? YES. Will is an orphan, brought up with other orphans, and when he comes of age to start apprenticing for work, he is chosen to be a Ranger. One of his meanest bullies goes to train as a knight. Do they go through character development? YES! Do they end up fighting in multiple wars together? YES! Do they end up travelling to solve conflicts all around the country, sometimes with and sometimes without one another? YESSSS! Are there kick-ass women in this story, like princesses who know how to use their power to bargain and diplomats who are quick-witted enough to give even the oldest scholars a run for their money? Hell yesssss! So, while it may seem a bit geared toward younger audiences (as in young teens) I adore this series and highly recommend it. There are many books, and there are even spin-off series that take place in the same universe but follow a different set of characters! Very fun!

Let's talk about anime and manga! I do have a few that I think you would like based on the fact you enjoy Merlin.

1. Moribito: Guardian of the Spirit. I will never skip on an opportunity to share this title. It is set back in time, when a young prince must run from his uncle who wishes to kill him. A spear-wielding woman is hired to act as his bodyguard. They end up developing a very familial mother-son dynamic as they evade and run from everyone sent to kill the prince. To be honest, the parts of this I find most similar to Merlin is the found family aspect, magic being considered a thing to be feared, and the ending being rather bittersweet.

2. The Rising of the Shield Hero. This is an anime, and also a light novel series by Aneko Yusagi. Do you like isekai shows where the main character actually isn't immediately liked by the people in the other universe? And has to work his way from the bottom using every skill and ounce of self-preservation he has? Who is pretty much discriminated against by the king because of his power, even though he works time and time again to save the world he was transported to? Do you enjoy CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT?!!!! AND REALISTIC STRUGGLES????? Then this would be something I recommend. Again, there is plenty of magic, lots of fighting, and some very interesting storytelling as four heroes summoned from different worlds fight to save a world none of them realized existed until now.

3. Wise Man's Grandchild, another anime and light novel series, written by Tsuyoshi Yoshioka. This one is an isekai anime that relates to the story of King Arthur. In this story, Shin is a young boy in a medieval world where magic exists, whose soul was reincarnated there from our modern world, where he was an adult. Shin retains much of his knowledge from our world, and he applies this extensive knowledge of science to his innate magic abilities, making him very powerful. He is taught and raised by an old wizard named Merlin (the wise man who pretty much adopts him as his grandson). He goes to a school where other students are learning to master magic or the sword and gains a group of friends to learn more magic with in order to protect their king and country. Very fun, a short anime, easy to binge-watch.

4. Yona of the Dawn, an anime, and a manga series by Mizuho Kusanagi. A princess who has to flee for her life with a loyal servant, and needs to find the other human incarnations of the different-coloured dragons. Very fun and beautiful, I really liked this anime. Unfortunately, I have not read the manga (yet) but I found the anime very fun!

These are just a few of what's out there! Feel free to ask me for more, as I am always collecting new anime/manga/books/fics that I would more than love to share with others!!!! Enjoy :D

[therealabbyham]

Racism in modern media.

A lot of controversy over the depiction of people of color (POC) in modern media has arisen. With both the Black Lives Matter and Stop Asian Hate movements that have happened in the last year, both new and old shows and movies have been brought forward as examples of what is not okay. Now, with some research, I'd like to go through these examples and go through what has made them controversial.

"Stock characters and slapstick tropes have always existed in theatre, from Shakespearean comedies to even something as seemingly benign as the Disney Channel show “The Suite Life of Zack and Cody” (remember Esteban?). But ethnic stock characters have been tricky to write in an increasingly politically correct 21st century, despite their appearances in such Broadway classics as “West Side Story” and “The King and I." (The Muse at Dreyfoos)

”Song of the South (Disney film) - By far one of the most controversial and well-known instances of controversy. So much so that Disney never sold the movie on DVD and will not be putting it on Disney plus. Disney's most recent effort to erase the racism from their history (also see: the crows in Dumbo and the original draft of Fantasia), was to go farther in changing Splash Mountain. Originally they had gotten rid of the characters on the ride (who were all characters from the movie), now, however, they are changing the ride altogether, changing it into a Princess and the Frog-inspired ride. "Song of the South’s African American characters are treated warmly, particularly Uncle Remus, who is Johnny’s best friend and confidant, a charismatic storyteller, and, most importantly, the film’s conduit to the animated world of Br’er Rabbit... The problem isn’t necessarily what Song of the South depicts, but what it chooses not to depict. Although Harris’ Uncle Remus stories were set in Georgia after the Civil War, the film adaptation never makes it clear when the story is taking place... If you’re not a scholar or an Uncle Remus expert, it’s very easy to assume that the film is set before the Civil War, and that Remus and Aunt Tempy (Hattie McDaniel) are slaves — and that they are completely fine with that." (Quotes from Screencrush) "By stripping out any concrete details of time and place, Disney essentially turned the plantation system into a ludicrous utopia where blacks and whites live in harmony — a harmony where the only thing that’s clear is that the blacks are inferior and servile to the whites, but are content to work the fields anyway." "Several of Remus’ stories are about Br’er Rabbit wanting to run away from his problems; the moral, inevitably, is that you can’t avoid trouble and there’s no place like home. These lessons are particularly important to Johnny because he doesn’t like life on the plantation initially and wants to run away to live with his father in Atlanta. But when coupled with the African American characters’ oddly cheerful attitude about their social status, the movie seems to be arguing on behalf of complacency. Don’t leave the plantation, don’t try to better yourself. Just go with the flow."

Thoroughly Modern Millie (Broadway show) - The show is about a young girl named Millie who moved from a small town to NYC, and the show is known for having "the subplot and the peddling of outdated Chinese stereotypes". (A lot of this will be in quotes from the previous link). Although "the play is set in the 1920s... the script was written in 2000, based on source material from the 1967 film of the same name" On Playbill, another study is done, "As much as the 2002 Tony-winning Best Musical is a love story about making it in the big city, the show’s major subplot centers on “white slavery.”" An argument could be made that “To actually have real Chinese guys singing and speaking in their own language and meaning it, and to link their immigrant story to the same story as Millie ... and come to America because of the American Dream, all these people who come to New York to reinvent themselves and be modern—I think is exactly what the Chinese guys are all about." (This is irrelevant if the characters are not played by someone who's Chinese). With accurate casting then it might be "another opportunity to cast shade on racist attitudes and assumptions about us [the Chinese] and what we know and how smart we are and what we’re capable of..." However it still "can be racist if you do it racist. This show can be done racist but it doesn’t have to and actually, it can actually be anti-racist." Personally, I think if the line you walk is so fine and covered in eggshells, it may not be worth it (but of course, it's an opinion, even if it's widely accepted). Even Ashley Park, who wanted to be Millie, thought “It’s one of the characters that I’ve loved, always, but I always figured I’d never play it just because of the race stuff that’s in [the show].” because she's Korean-American.

Emily in Paris (Netflix show) - Speaking of Ashley Parks, let's talk about Emily in Paris, one of Netflix's most controversial and most hated shows. To put it simply, the show (which I have not seen) is about an American girl who moves to Paris. Yep. That simple. In a video by Friendly Space Ninja (who's French), he says "I've been insulted by this show, more than once... Emily in Paris has a huge racism problem... and it also comes up as arrogant." He goes on to say, "When people say Emily in Paris portrays French culture in a very insulting way, they're not exaggerating." "The French in this show think Americans are the greatest and they aspire to be more like them and as a French person myself... Yeah no that's not accurate." "During the entire show, Emily tries to teach the French that doing things the American way is the right way." (I highly recommend watching this video if you don't mind the swear words, it has good points, that's why I'm just using quotes). "Emily in Paris only has two characters of color... these two characters of color are made of degrading cliches..." "All of the racist things [Mindy, a POC character,] says were written by a white writer." "The other non-white character is this guy... He's one of Emily's co-workers and he's gay... and I had to read he was gay online... and his entire point of existence in this show is to be the most stereotypical gay man the writers could come up with... all he does is stand in the background and act sassy... The writers are so dismissive with him I'm pretty sure the only reason they made him black is so they could kill two birds with one stone." "Emily in Paris has two actors of color and both of them feel like an afterthought." My thoughts: Don't watch this show. It has a season two coming out, don't watch it, even if you want to see how bad it is. There will be someone online who will tell you why it's bad and you'll save time reading or watching their review instead of giving Netflix a reason for a season three.

Anyways, those are just a few (obvious) examples of how racism isn't okay, even if it isn't inherently meant to be racist. Song of the South was meant to be a heart-warming movie full of stories about morals, but it's been banned and basically erased from Disney history because it comes off as being pro-slave. Millie was meant to be a commentary on Asain stereotypes while lifting up Asain actors so they were given more opportunities, yet most schools have banned it. And Emily in Paris, despite its connections that got it nominated for awards, was such a dumpster fire, a good review is near impossible to find.

[youarejesting]

Kisaeng (BTS)

[Masterlist]

Beta: @bluewhale52​​, @janetfraiserdeservedbetter​​ Genre: historical, drama, adventure, comedy, feel good, slice of life (if you lived in the 1654), spy’s (espionage). Rating: Teen and up Summary: Mulan disguised as a soldier, went to war to spare her father and save china. The bangtan boys disguised as concubines, went to an all womens home and saved a small village. Words: 12154 Announcement: This is part of a reverse trope project with castle bangtan. I am happy to have made this and for everyone who helped support along the way.

Winters End 1654 Hanseong,

Today my mentor Bang Si-Hyuk taught me the history of the Qing invasion and the passing over of the Ming to Qing era. We discussed the Qing Calendar and the offerings of princesses made to King Dorgon. Bang-seodang (teacher) told me I was a child for not understanding that there was a place for everyone. Men would fight in the wars and women would stay home and bear children. He is telling me this as news has spread that we are going to war and it is only a matter of time before they call for us. But when I think of my family and my sister, I want to protect them. I don’t want to fight in the war even if it is for my country. Leaving will only put my family at risk.

Kim Namjoon.

Namjoon placed down his brush and wiped his palm of ink that sometimes smudged. With a deep sigh, Namjoon got ready collecting his satchel, and headed to the town. Namjoon arrived at the small well-frequented building. The building held all the information of the residents in town and was also a place for people to send letters. That’s where he spent most of his days reading and writing correspondence for the villagers. 

He had received the earliest message about the impending war. There was only so much he could do to protect his family and he feared the coming announcement of deployment. Every available man was to go, leaving the women and children to fend for themselves. The women would have to tend the farm and care for the younglings which would only work if they stuck together. 

The problem lay with the men who would be allowed to stay behind due to business, like the butchers and the barmen and anyone who would swindle or pay their way out of deployment. These men were shady and wouldn’t hesitate to exploit and hurt the women left behind unprotected. 

Namjoon was in the middle of writing another love letter for one of the many present flower boys (beautiful men) within the town. Today’s letter was to someone Namjoon had written to on many occasions and yet never had the pleasure of meeting in person.

My dearest Kim Seokjin,

There is no one who can compare to your beauty. A man such as yourself would be ever so popular and have gardens of beautiful flowers for you to pick. But there is a part of me who wishes that I may be the sweet flower that you might choose. That I could be the one to make you smile. The one who can make a long day feel like it was nothing when you come home. 

“How does that sound, Miss Ahn?” Namjoon looked up, his expression deadpanned. He never expected his tutor to teach him the importance of reading, writing, history, poetry and Confucius’ philosophy, only to waste it on love letters from pining women addressed to the same two young men every week.

Part of him felt sorry for the two men, but another part of him felt jealous that these two men had the entire pick of women from the town, and he was stuck with his lessons. The constant “Scholars life is one without women” Bang-seodang (teacher) preached whenever he noticed Namjoon’s eyes wander from his books out the window at the young ladies giggling.

Namjoon finished with the letters and handed them over to Hoseok, the delivery man whom he only ever saw in passing; the man was so energetic and gangly. He had an odd tone of voice but it always sounded chipper. 

Namjoon had only the briefest of moments with the young man. “Here for the mail,” Hoseok called, and the letters were placed on the counter along with two coins for his hard work and he took the money and letters and headed on his way. 

Hoseok took a stack of perfume scented letters from his bag and rolled his eyes. Seokjin was a popular young man, only to be outdone in recent years by Taehyung.

The things Hoseok had to go through to deliver the mail was honestly scary in itself. He found it best never to stand around too long; best to simply hand over the mail and leave. 

He had a few regular customers he enjoyed spending a short time conversing with. Today he was delivering mail to the Noble Kim household. He walked in, nodding to the servants, and promptly followed the steward. 

“It seems the young master has mail once more,” The steward called and Hoseok was beckoned inside. He bowed low and shuffled quickly and quietly across the room where the Kim family were having breakfast. 

Hoseok knelt down and began taking out multiple letters addressed to the second son. “Father I don’t want to go to war,” Seokjin protested adamantly, slamming his rice bowl down onto the table.

“It is the way things are, how they’ve always been.” 

“Why don’t they send a few girls, why do they get to sit around at home? It isn’t fair”

Hoseok had heard about the possibility of war from the postal office. Any messages to and from the city passed through himself which left him privy to important and secret information. He did feel a tad nervous for his sister and mother. He wanted to stay home to protect them, but only a few men with jobs important to the community got to stay behind, men who provided essential services like the postman. The problem was that only one could stay behind and unfortunately, it would not be Hoseok to represent the post but the old man who ran the office. 

Hoseok wished he could just dress as a woman and stay behind but that was a crazy idea; men who did that were either shunned as cowards or killed. He handed over the stack of letters and moved on his way, bowing again before backing out of the room, leaving Seokjin with his hands full of letters of adoration and sickly sweet perfume.  

Letters again; they each began talking about the war wishing he came back safe as if he had already left and had resigned to his fate. Those words dwelled in Seokjin’s head more and more and made him feel ill and bitter. He tried not to crease his forehead. He didn't look good when he was angry. 

If only he could be a girl and laze around without a care. He would play and frolic in the gardens and he would have an easy life. 

Seokjin read each letter slowly and sighed. Of course, he was handsome, and these women had their way with words. Every day, the letters became more profound and he could feel his ego rising.

Seokjin sighed once more, a growing habit for the day as he got dressed. He looked fit for a Nobleman, his hair tied in a top knot manggeon (mesh headband that stops baby hairs sticking out) preventing any hair from falling in his face. He then wore his gat (hat) with fine jade bead gatkeun (beads that hang from their hat). 

He thought he looked quite smart and with his small pouch of coins around his neck, wandered from the estate. His father had ordered swords, readying for the war to come and had sent Seokjin to pick them up from the blacksmith.

Seokjin held his hands together behind his back and casually strolled through the streets, trying to keep his composure. He nodded at a group of giggling girls but his smile fell soon after he passed them. They were so lucky, they weren’t taking up arms to fight for their families. No, the women had it easy. 

Amidst his fuming, he accidentally made eye contact with an old drunk man who looked him up and down and smiled crassly. Seokjin shivered in disgust. Part of him wondered if he could pass as a woman; he had a pretty enough face and perfectly plump lips. 

He didn’t have much time to think as he arrived at the blacksmiths. He walked into the room and saw a shirtless young man, smithing. Beside him, an older man, presumably the man’s father, was shoveling coal into the fire.

“Jungkook, we have a customer,” the older of the two smiled at Seokjin before resuming his work.

Jungkook dropped his things and grabbed a towel, drying his chest of sweat. He headed to the wooden table by the entrance, draping his Hanbok over his chest and thin waist to appear more decent in front of the handsome nobleman. 

“Good morning, Sir, what can I do for you today?” He smiled a particularly wholesome little smile, teeth a little big but endearing.

“I am here to pick up the order of swords my father ordered?” The nobleman smiled.

“Your name sir?” Jungkook sat at the desk and opened the ledger. Though Jungkook wasn’t a nobleman with extensive education, he still knew how to read and write basic words associated with smithing.

“Kim.”

“Kim, Kim, Kim...gardening tools.... no, aha the swords! Yes, sir, that will be 100 mun a piece sir.”

“I should have enough here,” he smiled, placing down a pouch that made a heavy ‘clink’ sound as it hit the wood. 

Jungkook emptied the pouch and counted the coins with expertise, then handed back the change and the silk floral pouch it came in. He fetched the swords and carried them over; they were expertly made by him and his father. 

“Thank you,” Jungkook smiled and began explaining in detail the care and features they added to the handcrafted metal weapon. “Three foot long single-edged, weighted and balanced” 

Guiding the customer out, Jungkook handed over the two swords and held the door open for the handsome young man to crab walk from the smith’s shop. He looked completely out of place holding such dangerous weapons, and he pitied the young man. He was the son of a nobleman and would definitely be expected to set an example. 

Jungkook had on many occasions sparred with his father and was able to hold his own in a sword or unarmed fight. He wondered if his father would be okay alone. He would be exempted due to his job and physical condition, but he was getting older, would he be able to work on his own without getting hurt or sick?

Scooping up the bag of tools, Jungkook told his father to take a break and that he would deliver the tools and bring back some fresh fruit from the Kim farm. He poured his father a glass of tea then left.

As Jungkook traveled through the crowd to reach the fields across town, he passed the small bar. Inside, he could hear the raucous of unsavory street merchants discussing how they were going to bribe their way out of deployment. They had plans to pay the royal officials and take over the town when all the men had left. It seemed that all they wanted to do was cause havoc to all the families and businesses, and blackmail them into paying a safety fee.

He pressed on, trying not to think about his father being exploited or worse, given his current state. While musing, he arrived at the small farmhouse on the edge of town and was greeted by a handsome young man.

“Hello, Can you hold this?” The young man smiled, handing over a large rope. Placing down the bag of tools, Jungkook gladly held the rope tightly in his palms.

Taehyung raced to the other end of the rope and secured it in both hands, he looked up with a grin before shouting, “Okay pull!”

The young man who had arrived at the farm was confused but he pulled the rope nonetheless. Taehyung pulled back and the two were suddenly in a heated tug of war. 

Taehyung giggled and the young man seemed to give it his all. It was a battle of strength and the farmer’s son wasn’t particularly muscular as he very much neglected most of his farming duties for foolish games so it was only fair that the young delivery man bested him.

“Good game, you are pretty strong for someone so young,” Taehyung patted the Younger man's head before scooping up the rope.

“Isn’t this a child’s game?” Jungkook eyed the rope draped over the older man’s shoulders.

“Sometimes it helps pass the time to act a little childish, and it made you smile so you thought it was fun too right?”

“I enjoyed it, thank you for the game, I am here to deliver tools for your family.” He said now looking more serious.

“Ah yes you must be the blacksmith, you look like a blacksmith. All work, no fun.” Taehyung tapped the younger man’s nose before turning with a flourish, humming as he went, beckoning the smith to follow.

“I have to work to take care of my father,” He pouted, Taehyung enjoyed the boy's childish nature, the two could definitely get up to some mischief.

“My name is Taehyung,” He smiled, gesturing to the large box in the shed and removing a small pouch of coins from his satchel. 

“Jungkook,” He sighed, placing the tools down and gratefully accepting the money. 

“What are you going to spend it on, sweets?” 

“Uh, it's for my father's medicine,” Jungkook laughed, making Taehyung feel a little sorry for the kid, he was so young and yet working so hard already.

Taehyung with his unwavering curiosity decided to tail the boy once they parted, not trying to be discreet, just walking a few paces behind and whenever the boy turned, Taehyung gave him a smile and wave. Lost in thought for a moment, Taehyung didn’t take notice of the boy in front of him until they were colliding, fumbling with the empty porcelain soju bottles.

As Jimin fell, he pulled each bottle to his chest and held them; though the impact was quite jarring, the bottles were safe. Jimin lived with his grandparents and they ran a business selling rice wine which was popular but didn’t make them a lot of money. They couldn’t afford to replace any new bottles.

It was his job to deliver the full bottles to the bar and bring back the empty ones. If any bottles were broken, the bar would pay for replacements. That was the rule, but if they were broken during delivery, the money came out of his family’s pocket.

“I am sorry,” the man who had run into him was polite and gentle, helping Jimin to his feet and dusting him off, “Let me help you carry some of those, I promise I will look where I am going.”

“Thank you for the offer, you can carry this half” He offloaded a few from his arms. 

“I am Taehyung by the way, who are you?”

“Oh, I am Jimin,” he smiled, thankful for the help. The two journeyed through the vendors until they arrived at Jimin’s family business, “Gran, I have a friend who helped me,” Jimin called.

“Oh let me see him! Oh he is quite the looker, Jimin, if only you were a girl, what is the use of you being so pretty if you can’t lure in handsome young men,” she joked playfully, this was their running joke that Jimin was so pretty.

“I can lure in handsome men just fine, see if I was a girl I would have too many suitors. I wouldn’t be able to pick,” Jimin laughed.

“If you were a girl then you wouldn’t have to go to war.” Jimin’s heart sank knowing his grandmother really didn’t want to see him leave. 

“That would be one way to get out of the army,” Taehyung laughed and Jimin’s grandmother handed him a plate of rice cakes. The two boys wolfed them down happily, bonding over their love of sweets and games.

Taehyung left and Jimin was getting ready to close up shop; he lifted a large porcelain vase of Soju and carried it over to the butchers. The butchers were not the nicest of people; they were affiliated with the outlaws, the ones Jimin heard talking about taking over the city when the men left for war.

“Yah!” Yoongi called, seeing the graceful form of Jimin from the top floor of the liquor store. “Jiminie.”

“Hey Yoongi, I am here to trade.” Jimin smiled up at him and he nodded, coming down.

“Alright, dad’s got your meat pack ready, it's all freshly cut.” Yoongi handed over the basket. 

“Have you been preparing for deployment?” Jimin asked him, it seemed the secret war was not so secret as it was all everyone was talking about. The boy always meant well, this innocent question asked by anyone else would not have ended so well.

“I am not going, Jimin, my dad has bribed the officials trying to get as many men as possible to stay behind so that they can take over the town. there isn’t much resistance when the only people left are the elderly, the women, and the children.”

“You should think about staying too, maybe I can convince my father not to threaten your family and their shop.”

“I can’t; it’s punishable by death if you try to avoid your duty.” Jimin sighed, “Gran thinks I should just dress up as a lady and stay behind and protect my family.”

“You could definitely get by as a lady, you would just have to work on a few things,” Yoongi hummed looking him up and down. He eyed Jimin up and down wondering if Jimin could really do it, lie to the officials, and say he was a girl.

He would have to stay in the Kisaeng house; he couldn’t stay with his grandparents, because if he was found out they would all be killed. Perhaps Yoongi was thinking too far into this, but he really did like Jimin. He was the only person who knew who he was and yet still wanted to be his friend.

“Maybe that might be an option, I don’t know how my grandparents will do on their own being so old; the shop barely makes enough money for food as it is.”

“Look, if you can’t stay, I could try my best but it’s alcohol, and you know these men love to drink,” Yoongi said honestly, “they will probably go through all the supplies in a week and everyone else will struggle.”

Yoongi sighed, watching the boy leave looking rather forlorn; perhaps he shouldn’t have told him.

Spring 1654 Hanseong,

Today, I, Kim Namjoon, have done something stupid. I dressed as a girl but it seems like I wasn’t the only one. Five other idiotic bamboo shoots have no clue what they are doing. Stepping foot into the kisaeng house was taboo, only women and eunuchs were allowed entrance. But the officials have been bought out by the corrupt street merchants, the kind who plan to take whatever women and land they see fit. We are all honestly praying for a miracle, that no one will find out we are men, some are better at hiding it than others. We will see.

Kim Namjoon

Namjoon was rudely awoken by the call of war. He guessed today was the day. He dressed slowly, in no hurry to give his life away. Departing his room with little thoughts of breakfast, Namjoon heard the soft sniffles from his sister who was mournfully packing. There was not enough room for all the beautiful dresses so she had left many behind.

He wanted nothing more than to stay, if only to protect his sister in their own home and let her keep her luxuries of dresses and books. 

Namjoon knew women were not allowed to read or write but he made time every day teaching his younger sister or letting her sit in on lessons when father was away working in the palace. 

Namjoon hugged his sister, trying to comfort her as well as to calm his nerves. “Do you need me to walk you home, I can carry your bag?” He said trying so hard to prolong the moment.

“No brother it is okay,” she paused. “You are going to come back, you're smarter than any of the men out there. You’ll return, I know it.” 

She scooped up her bag and left the house, waving from the front gate. Namjoon was sure he wouldn’t get away with his plan. But he packed a few of his sister’s bigger dresses, hoping they would cover him entirely. He grabbed a subtle pink chima (skirt) and sky blue jeogori (jacket), looking at the two items, they honestly looked complicated but he knew logically which items went where.

Namjoon did his best stripping from his masculine clothes and getting to work. He wrapped his chest and followed the order he believed for the under skirts and silks. Once fitted, he was exhausted; wrestling fabric wasn’t easy. He didn’t want to be late or leave room for doubt, so he settled for a simple braid. 

He followed behind his younger sister, by a few yards, trying to mimic her walk and mannerisms, hoping that he could pass as a girl. He ducked past some officials keeping his head low until he saw the beautiful residence. A collection of young girls were already lining up with their belongings. 

As fathers and brothers were going to war, some children were left without parents. This meant the children were rehomed into other families. The young women old enough were left in the kisaeng house (home for courtesan), where girls were taught how to be wives before they were sent to the matchmakers.

Hoseok had secretly been stealing his sister's clothes, trying to perfect her style of makeup. The two had such similar feminine features,  the only difference was Hoseok’s athletic body. It wasn’t hard for him to slowly get the hang of her makeup and hair routines. Honestly, Hoseok thought he had a real knack for braiding hair.

He tried to round out his lean build with some makeshift breasts, but he couldn’t get them the same size; that and they had a tendency to slip. He had his chest wrap on but it was too loose around his chest and the fact he didn’t have boobs made the whole thing shift and the rice pouches he had slipped right out.

He deemed himself ready, heading out towards the kisaeng house with his coin purse on his hip. Lining up, he couldn’t help but blanch at the poor excuse of a woman standing in front of him.

Her hair was not at all perfect like his, but he seemed similarly dressed. Hoseok looked down at his own green jeogori and red chima, for a brief moment he wondered what the young girl was going through. Her family must be torn apart by the war; without a second thought, he tapped the tall woman on the shoulder, only to be greeted by Namjoon, who he recognized from their brief encounters at the postal office.

Almost revealing their identity, Hoseok covered his mouth. As the officials passed by, the two disguised men bowed politely behind their fans. The stuffing in Hoseok’s chest wrap slipped to his waist making his chest obviously lopsided. Namjoon’s face contorted in an attempt to keep his composure. 

Hoseok’s laugh came out uncharacteristically deep but he remembered why he was laughing, he was trying to appear feminine. Turning his body away, he faced Namjoon, “Let me fix your hair, sweetie, you must have been upset having to see your brother leave.”

“Ah thank you,” Namjoon said with a sweet soft voice. The two turned away from the officials so that Hoseok could fix his breast dilemma and also tame Namjoon’s hair before the two of them were found out as fakes. After doing a beautiful updo where Hoseok added one of his spare combs for decoration, he turned Namjoon to face him in order to add a little makeup from his floral coin purse.

Seokjin felt betrayed by his family; his father lied about the three of them going to war. It seemed as a Nobleman he was exempt, and as his older brother was the firstborn he was also exempt in order to carry on the family name. 

Seokjin however was the spare son. This meant he was expendable. He was begrudgingly on his way to the front gate of town ready to hand over his ID and his life to some stupid war when he heard the uncharacteristic masculine giggles from the line of young women waiting to spend their days pouring tea and strolling through town while he trekked the countryside and fought for his life and theirs. 

He followed the sound, eyes catching on two rather tall figures, and it didn’t take long to recognize Hoseok’s face. He couldn’t forget the face of his mailman and he had to admit it was a bit of a feat that he and the rather tall looking young man were both trying to pass as young women. Seokjin looked down at the sword on his waist and contemplated seriously about joining the two.

He caught sight of a beautiful silk chima in a brilliant dusty rose color, he leaned over the counter, “Excuse me, ma’am, I would like to buy this beautiful set for my sister before I leave.” He exchanged some of his coins making sure he had enough for what he had planned. He threw in a veil as well, not to cover his beautiful face but to offer to the taller man he saw with Hoseok, whose jawline was just a little too masculine.

Seokjin got dressed behind the postal office; he stepped out once more making sure to cut in line in front of Hoseok. Seokjin offered the tall man ahead of him the pretty lace veil which matched his outfit. “For your jawline, it is too prominent you must appear more dainty,” Seokjin muttered with a swish of his skirt. He was thankful he hadn’t fallen on his face with how much fabric encircled him.

The tall man took the offered fabric wrapping it around his face only to have Seokjin swat his hands away, “You are hopeless.”

“Ah Namjoon, this is Seokjin,” Hoseok gestured between the two.

The boys spent a few moments brainstorming new names and identities, in order to really get into character.

It didn’t take long for the three to reach the front of the line; they had taken to preening each other, trying to help one another appear more feminine. Seokjin almost anticipated Namsoon’s refusal but when he wasn’t pushed out, it was Seokjin’s turn. Stepping inside, he was met by a woman dressed in a brilliant dark grey chima and orange Jeogori. Her eyes had a sharp glint. The smirk on her face was prominent as she brushed her small fingers across her chin. “What brings you to my home, young lady?”

Jungkook was camping a few paces into the tree line behind the blacksmiths. He hoped he could look after his father and not get caught for staying home. He saw the officials handing out exemption passes and he knew he couldn’t leave. Not when the enemy had such large numbers behind them.

Jungkook went hunting, he didn’t want to bother his father by being an extra burden on their small supply of food. Catching something significant for dinner, Jungkook did his best to prepare the meat and then cooked it over a small fire.

The shadows crawled across the ground as the sun bowed behind the hills. Jungkook wondered if life could be this easy without wars and evil, if there could be harmony and peace one day.

Jungkook heard a commotion in town and frowned, going to the edge of the forest to listen. “The King has heard people have paid their way out of deployment, anyone caught will be sentenced to death. Come forward now and you will be spared and sent off with your fellow men.” The man read from the scroll, looking about the village. “We will now commence inspecting every household”

A few men stepped forward, walking to the front gate and signing their deployment. A few retreated and were cut down by the bite of the swords from the royal guards. There was running coming from his left and a small figure spoke quickly; “Run, the guards are coming”

Jungkook followed after the thin figure and the two stopped at the nearest window and climbed in. They were caught by a young woman dressed regally in orange, grey, and gold, “Good evening, can I help you?”

“Uh… we um?” Jungkook was embarrassed.

“I will happily help two young ladies such as yourself, but, you will have to dress quickly if you wish to make dinner” 

Ladies? Dress for dinner? Jungkook was confused, the sound of the royal guard growing louder as they searched for any men hiding from their duties. He looked up at the woman catching her eye, she smirked knowingly.

“You wouldn’t want the guards catching you underdressed now would you?” He realized then that she was offering them refuge.

The two nodded, taking the clothes thrown in their direction, rushing to dress. The woman helped tie their jeogori before leading them out to the Sigdang (dining hall). She led them to a table filled with some other strange looking ladies, some of which Jungkook could have sworn were in disguise as well. Was that Taehyung?

Taehyung smiled seeing the two new additions to their group. He recognized the blacksmith anywhere and smiled trying to get the young man’s attention. Giggling when he did just that, Taehyung hadn’t spoken with Jungkook for long the day they met but he knew those wide curious eyes. They looked just as confused when Taehyung handed him a rope that afternoon by his family's farmhouse.

The woman was in on it, when Jimin and Taehyung came up with the idea, they didn’t expect Jimin’s Gran to not only hear their plan but also support it. She went out of her way to speak with the woman known as Hojang (head of house).

The bargain was to take in the two gentlemen who would protect the women and to provide free wine for the building next door. Kisaeng was a place where women could stay and learn all the things a woman should know before marriage. 

Next door, however, was the tea house, at least during the day. At night it was filled with men, mostly guards and officials who would drink and dabble with opioids in the company of fine young women. 

These women were not forced to be there, but those who chose to be would leave with their coin purses filled. Some of the money was used to fund the house, and the rest was pocket money they could spend on new silks and anything else they desired.

Taehyung learned quite a lot about this during the days leading up to the deployment. The Hojang held such a big presence; she moved with grace and did business with the best.

Jimin’s Gran had painstakingly obtained the silk and hand made clothes tailored to her grandson’s and Taehyung’s bodies. She also taught them how to sit, stand, walk and dress like a lady. The two were doing rather well but the hojang scrutinized every little detail that they should work on in her home. 

Taehyung could see she expected nothing less than perfection from her girls and she wouldn’t make an exception for them. She would make proper ladies out of them if it took everything she had, and perhaps a little more.

Gran had always taught Jimin things that she loved herself. Jimin remembered dancing with his gran every afternoon, when he was young, the two would hold beautiful fans and perform. Jimin would do anything to make his gran happy.

The Hojang picked up on this early, pleased with his form but it didn’t last long when he opened his mouth. Though his voice was sweet, the words and drawl were masculine and crass.

Jimin was surprised when Taehyung and himself were joined by more young men in dresses. He didn’t think anyone else would have the guts or the stupidity to join the house. He tried to fight the smirk that stretched across his face when he saw the three young men sitting across the table.

The Hojang had laid out the rules that they had to obey while living in her house: they were not to touch any of the women, they were to share a room by themselves, they were to only refer to themselves as their female alter egos, and they were to act like graceful ladies at all times.

Jimin greeted the newcomers. “My name is Park Jimin” He smiled sweetly. He was glad his name was widely used by both girls and boys or he would have to remember something else.

“Namsoon,” the tallest smiled, holding out a large hand to shake but immediately retracted it with a small shy smile. ‘Definitely a boy.’ Jimin thought. 

“Seojin,” the broad shoulders were giving Jimin mixed thoughts. However, no matter if they were a female or male, Jimin knew this person was beautiful.

“Hye-Seong,” a cute voice said, surprising Jimin. The voice was a little nasally but it belonged to a man none-the-less. The group turned to the two newcomers dressed in beautiful silks and ribbons, their hair braided down their backs.

“Yoonji” A familiar deep drawl spoke, making Jimin drop his chopsticks looking over at him shocked. Jimin looked Yoongi over, seeing that the young man actually made a rather beautiful woman, he almost felt himself blush.

“My name is uh… Jeong-suk” Jimin found it almost laughable.‘Jeongsuk’s build was almost unbearably muscular in the outfit, it wasn’t fitted to him at all. He looked like he was an overloaded dumpling the way the fabric worked over-time to conceal him.

“Hi, My name is Taeyeon, it is nice to meet everyone” Jimin laughed at how deep Taehyung’s voice sounded before he lifted the pitch.

Yoongi couldn’t believe his father talked him into staying only to have it backfire. Yoongi thought finally he would be able to get away from his father and the immoral activities he orchestrated.

Now he was pretending to be a woman, this was probably the biggest disrespect he could have ever felt. He almost wanted to walk out onto the streets and hand himself in. He would take death over the humiliation.

“Alright ladies everyone at your table will be sleeping in your quarters, the token on your table is the room color you will be staying in,” Hojang clapped her hands. Yoongi looked at the token on the table and Jimin lifted it for all the occupants to see the Yellow wooden piece “I would like you all to bathe and get to bed as quickly as you can, as we have lessons tomorrow. And I will not have any giggling or you will be eating bean soup for the whole week.”

The girls obeyed the Hojang’s instruction and started filling out. Yoongi watched in amusement at the kid he had met in the forest leaning away practically in fear of the women passing by.

“I would like the yellow table to please stay behind.” The Hojang announced. 

Yoongi sighed, wondering what this woman had to say to him and his new friends. Once the room was empty, the Hojang addressed them.

“I am happy to house you all, but you will follow my rules and I will teach you what you need to know. I will have you getting men to empty their pockets and you won’t have to do anything more than throwing them a coy smile.” Humming, the Hojang looked at them all over, eyes settling on Yoongi’s making him feel vulnerable. 

“I can see who has good intentions, and I can see who thinks that women have it easy. I will show you what it means to be a woman, the struggles you will face.” She gestured the group to stand. Yoongi struggled, trying to get up as he was stepping on his skirt. He really tried to correct himself, but it was too late the fabric under his foot tore. The Hojang sent a disappointed and disapproving glare.

“Miss Namsoon, your sister is here, I have warned her to not refer to you as her brother nor Namjoon. I have told her if anyone finds out you are men, you will be killed. Your room is secluded across the courtyard and has its own private hot spring. So please bathe there and nowhere else. If I find out you are perving on my girls, I will turn you into eunuchs.”

Yoongi swallowed audibly. He felt respect for this woman. But he was also scared of her.

Summer 1654 Hanseong,

The past three moon cycles have been particularly painful. I have seen so much and started to really appreciate what women have to go through, if only from the first lesson that left us all so exhausted. The list of expectations of a woman before she could even be considered for marriage is frightful. The Hojang confiscated my books and ceased my ability to speak freely. My mentor explained Confucius’ teachings on how important it is to speak your mind and be true to yourself. But the first lesson from Hojang was not the same. I am proud to say I have grown, I now truly see how important words are.

Kim Namjoon

The day began with cleaning their sleeping quarters and heading to the sigdang, where they were to cook their own meals as was expected of wives (unless of course, they were wives of noblemen who had servants). Namjoon looked at the ingredients rather unsurely, he had no idea what one was supposed to do with them. 

He was a smart guy, he knew what everything was and how it ended up together, but the process in between wasn’t something he was familiar with. He saw Jimin take the rice and begin washing it without instruction. Jimin explained his family worked with rice for their business, making rice wine and that his gran was particularly fond of rice cakes.

“Why do you wash the rice?” Seo-jin curiously asked, Namjoon turned and watched the younger man work confidently with the ingredients. 

“To make it fluffy,” he smiled, “you have to wash the rice to get the frothy stuff off the top of the water.” 

The Hojang had invited a wholesome old woman for the cooking class; her small plump figure held such a firecracker personality. She spoke so lively and made the whole lesson amusing. 

“Now chop them into half-moons,” the woman smiled. “Be careful of your fingers, curl your hand into almost a fist and hold the knife against the back of your knuckles to prevent slipping and losing a finger.” Namjoon was trying to follow the instruction, but he heard an exasperated sigh from Yoonji. 

“Stop, let me.” It was impressive how Yoonji’s hands moved so quickly and precisely while cutting the vegetables. 

Namjoon knew at this moment cooking wasn’t for him but judging by the wonder in Seojin’s eyes, it resonated more with him. Taking his notebook out, Namjoon thought it best to write down the instructions the woman was giving on cooking so that he might be able to learn and practice. 

The Hojang had other plans, taking the book from his hands and leaning down. “Ladies shouldn’t burden themselves with reading and writing,” her words were bitter through the clenched teeth of a forced smile. She clearly didn’t believe what she was saying as she herself could read and write.

Namjoon realized that this was a privilege only for the king, the nobleman, the officials, and scholars. Namjoon realized that he had yet to meet a female scholar.

The house had been given some free time from the grueling lessons. Honestly, if Hoseok had to pour tea again and have the Hojang smack his elbows with the thin bamboo stick whenever they stuck out too far, he would rip his hair out. On top of that, it was frustrating not to be able to speak out and stand up for himself without getting another sharp tap across his hand.

The boys had all sat in the room that night discussing how the Hojang was abusing them for her own pleasure. “It has to be to get back at us for being male and suppressing her.”

The chance to be free was something important to Hoseok. He was a mailman for a reason, and that reason was to move when and where he wanted to, never be tied down and confined to one place.

Being held up in the kisaeng house was making Hoseok restless, so during this free time, there was nothing that could stop him from racing out from the cage he was supposed to call home. Taking to the streets, it was market day and vendors and merchants were in the town square selling anything and everything he could think of and more. With his coin purse on his hip, he began walking with a practiced giggle.

He almost resented the persona he was to live with, enforced by the hojang. Perhaps it was just because he was thinking of the woman, but Hoseok could swear he felt her gaze. Looking over his shoulder there she was standing on the front porch, parasol in hand, staring directly at him, as if to mentally remind him of the damned curfew.

Could that woman relax at all? Could she just learn to chill and have some fun for once? Hoseok huffed; some fun would probably make her less cranky, but he couldn’t see her acting nicer, that in itself was a scary thought.

Hoseok went past his home and saw both his sister and mother outside playing with the children they took in after he had left. He smiled; they looked happy and healthy and that was reassuring. ‘Perhaps I was worried for nothing.’

As he was heading back, he started wondering if he should have gone to war and defended his country. He shook his head; it was too late now, he had to accept his fate no matter how grueling it got.

Scuffing his feet on the way back to the town square, a sly smile creeping across his face at the thought of the scolding he would receive for doing something unladylike, like walking ungracefully.

“I have to get back, the Hojang will be expecting me.” A small feminine voice spoke, so timid and laced with fear. Hoseok looked down the small lane to see some of the young ladies from the kisaeng house cornered by a much larger group of royal guards. 

Hoseok paused, looking on wondering if they were trying what he thought they would do. He didn’t have to wait long to confirm that yes, in fact, they were. He stepped closer. “Ladies, we all have to head home now. We can’t keep the Hojang waiting,” Hoseok said a little cutely.

“We are just talking, come join us,” one of the guards said. “The more the merrier.”

Hoseok was guided over, he would have smacked away the guard’s hand on his lower back but it would reveal his identity.

He tried to squirm from the older man’s grasp. He smelt like alcohol. Amongst the women was Seojin, standing there looking concerned as he was eyed by the plethora of strong men.

Seokjin looked at Hye-Seong, he didn’t know why but he was tense. On a regular day, he was always unbothered, he was taught that as a nobleman there should be nothing he feared, not even death. 

Why did he feel so vulnerable? This was so unlike him. It was like he couldn’t say or do anything as one of the men pointed out how ‘cute’ he was while sliding his hand down Seokjin’s back. 

He felt a sense of dread, he honestly had never felt so scared in his life. Scared of what these men might do to him, what they might do when they found out. He was spared from any horrors he could think of when he heard a familiar voice, one that he usually cowered under.

There she was, the hojang. She slowly closed her parasol and fastened it shut with a ribbon, before looking at the girls. “Head back home and you can start the dinner preparations early,” she smiled reassuringly. 

Hye-Seong gestured for the girls to go and Seokjin took a moment trying to muster the courage to leave. “Seojin, head back.” A soft hand landed on his broad shoulder, the Hojang was smaller than him and Seokjin had no idea how strong she was but she looked at him and he knew nothing could hurt him.

Walking away he looked back and felt a swell of admiration for the woman who didn’t bow in front of the palace officials. They stepped forward and he felt scared once more, she did in fact look smaller in front of them despite never faltering.

Seokjin and Hoseok waited behind the Hojang, the two floundering on whether to go for help or to stand in her place. Suddenly, three figures barged past Seokjin with determination. Jimin, Yoonji, and Jeong-suk were all shoulders and fists stepping in front of the Hojang. 

“Ya, you have a problem?” Jimin’s voice was sweet and yet laced heavy with warning. It took the men by surprise as Jimin moved like he was dancing but ended up driving one of the men’s faces into the ground. Still, with his sweet expression, he said with a sense of finality, “We will be going home now.” 

It took a long time for Jungkook to get used to having people around his age constantly in his presence. He never had any big brother figures, it was just him and his father and they mostly worked in the shop. Of course, Jungkook’s father taught him many important life lessons, and he was thankful for them.

There was just something that grew in Jungkook like he had been locked up in his mind when he was working in the blacksmiths. It took a long time but eventually, Jungkook felt his shell break, and all his thoughts and feelings could be let out and expressed.

Nurtured by the open and honest environment in the kisaeng, he found himself no longer hiding away from the women, but instead connecting with them. Jungkook always took laundry duty for his sleeping quarter; he loved the smell of the clean fabrics and he also enjoyed the time with the women by the stream.

One would start singing to pass the time and the others would join in, they each made songs and they would sing it a few times until it felt right. Of course, Jungkook had his favorites and he would sing them as he strolled around the enclosed gardens.

Just one day, if I can be with you, Just one day, if I can hold your hands, Just one day, if I can be with you Just one day, just one day If only we can be together

For some, it was easy to adjust to the new way of life, for Taehyung it was not, with an abundance of energy he tried his best to expel it all. At first, he found a ball, and he and Jimin went outside to kick it around but were scolded by the Hojang who said “Women shouldn’t be seen doing anything masculine,” and apparently that included running around, playing sports, or just anything Taehyung deemed fun.

It wasn’t for lack of trying; Taehyung would find a new activity and a new area in the house or in the inner courtyard. He would barely set up or have a few moments of fun before he heard the voice that haunted him even in his dreams. 

“Taeyeon, follow me,” Taehyung sighed, dropping the small ball he had been kicking between him and some of the young girls, perhaps he was a bit of a bad influence. He walked slowly after the Hojang. Mentally cursing her and stepping quickly in an effort to step on the back of her skirt so she would trip but she was too quick.

She led him into a small room he hadn’t seen before and he got nervous; was he being punished for disobeying the rules? He eyed the bamboo cane in her hand while she moved about the room and made up two desks. She placed a sweet flower arrangement on one and a stiff parchment pinned to a board on the other.

“Sit and watch, and then I will let you have a go. I promise you will have fun.” She explained how to grind the dyes and how to mix them perfectly before she began painting the flowers within the vase.

Taehyung was fascinated by the way the picture came to life, although there was a moment of confusion and doubt before it all came together. She spoke slowly, describing her technique. “You will develop your own technique that will feel right to you. Feel free to come here often and practice, let out your energy.” 

“I can?” He seemed excited.

“A lady can do dainty activities, ones that are seen as beautiful and feminine.” She said softly.

“Why do you have so many rules?” He blurted out and winced, ready for a scolding but only felt a soft pat on his head.

“They aren’t my rules, no man will marry these ladies if they don’t meet these basic standards. Ask any man who they want to marry; they want someone who cooks and cleans, who doesn’t speak too much and is beautiful and feminine.” She sighed, “I would teach them how to read and write, but they are not expected to. I would teach them to fight and protect themselves but then they will not be seen as desirable young flowers, they would have too many thorns.”

Taehyung nodded slowly, and following the Hojang’s directions, began setting up his paints and parchment. He was allowed to paint whatever he wished. When he was done he frowned. “It doesn’t look nice.”

“What do you mean? Look at the depth you created here, you have such a good style, Taeyeon. Keep drawing until you grow comfortable and like what you have painted, but I will keep this one. Your first painting is precious.” She began to leave, “Don’t stay up too long, you have more lessons tomorrow.”

“Miss Hojang, I have a question?” Taehyung's voice was soft and curious as he turned away from the canvas. “If you could do anything that you ever wanted, what would it be?”

“Goodnight Taehyung,” she gave a small chuckle, smiling for the first time since Taehyung met her, and his opinion changed at that moment. She wasn’t as evil as he first thought.

It wasn’t long until Taehyung had told the whole group about the hojang; how she was actually a really considerate woman, who had nothing but good intentions for the girls she was protecting.

The boys talked about how the expectations were so unfair, that the girls should learn how to protect themselves and they should be educated. “I wish I could just teach them how to defend themselves,” Jimin hummed. “I learned from a young age how to fight, I could definitely show them some things.”

“I could teach them how to read and write, you could teach them how to fight,” The idea sparked inside Namsoon, they headed off to the hojang to present the idea, who agreed to their proposal.

Jimin led the class through the stretches thanking the girls for their cooperation, he had been teaching for two months and the girls were getting rather good. They really loved these new classes, they were so unlike what they were used to. It was hard for Jimin to teach his class in a dress but he made it work. Jimin had never felt prouder when he heard of stories of the ladies in the tea house defending themselves and others against rowdy patrons. 

He also helped Hye-Seong with his dance practice, it seemed he really liked the class. Hyeseong mentioned to Jimin after their first dance class how he had never felt freer in his life, and after a few more, Hyeseong was moving his body freely to the music.

Jimin loved the idea that his friends enjoyed things that could be considered feminine, just like the things he liked. Maybe he wasn’t odd for liking dancing if his friends enjoyed art and simple house chores and cooking.

Yoongi had snuck out to speak with his father not because he particularly cared for the man, but he just knew his father would be angry if he didn’t report to him. He was climbing over the fence when he heard a cough behind him. “Yoonji where are you going?” Jeongsuk asked in a tiny voice.

“I have to see my father,” he spoke softly, trying not to wake anyone else up, “You should go back to bed.”

“I will come with you,” Jeongsuk smiled, climbing over the fence with Yoongi who sighed. The two walked along the dirt road until they arrived at the butchers. 

“Wait here, Jeongsuk,” Yoongi spoke seriously, and quietly gestured to the spot just outside the lights of the street lamps. “I will be back.”

“My name is Jungkook,” He grabbed the sleeve of Yoongi’s jeogori before he pulled it off and helped him change into his masculine clothes and tied his hair up. “I know we aren’t supposed to tell each other our names but I need to say it, I need to feel like me for a little bit.”

“Yoongi,” he patted the younger boy's head, “Stay here Jungkook.” 

He walked inside, nervous to see his father, and to hear what he would say. Meeting his father’s gaze across the room of laughing drunk men, his father stood up looking as harsh as always. “Where did you run off to?”

“The officials came, they were killing everyone, I just went off for a bit until they lost me.”

“Where have you been, you look awfully clean.” A slur drew Yoongi’s eyes from his father. Yoongi knew he would have to answer truthfully or he would be found out and beaten.

“I was hiding at the Kisaeng house,” he sighed.

“At the kisaeng house?” his father said. “What, are you pretending to be a girl?”

“Yes, I am,” he said, ears a little pink, and perhaps he should have just taken the beating.

“No son of mine is dressing as a woman!” His father shooed Yoongi, his hand pointing to the door. “Get out, I didn’t raise you to become a whore.”

“I only used it as a place to hide, I am back now.” Yoongi sighed nonchalantly, trying to get his father to calm down.

“If you don’t get out, I will kick your ass,” his father said, taking long strides until he was towering over his son. “I didn’t raise you for twenty-six years only to have you acting like some delicate flower. You always looked too much like your mother.” He raised his hand to hit Yoongi. Without flinching or shying away Yoongi waited for impact but it never came. A hand had clasped around his father's wrist.

“Hey, let’s just go back,” Jungkook said, letting go of the butcher’s hand then towing a struggling Yoongi behind him.

“Let me go,” Yoongi hissed as they were walking back to the house. “He was right, I am a disgrace, why am I prancing around in dresses when I am a man?”

“NO!” Jungkook grabbed the older man, thankful that he was stronger. “If there is one thing I have learned about my stay here, it is that women aren’t weak, they aren’t to be looked down on.”

“Good for you, I don’t need this disrespect.”

“Why do you care so much about what your father and those bad men think, you know they are scum. You aren’t, Yoongi. You left and you are a good person,” Jungkook protested.

“Did you not see what was on the tables?” Jungkook said. “Land deeds, they are strong-arming women and children from their homes, taking ownership of land that isn’t theirs. We must use what we have to our advantage.”

“What do we have, dancing and the ability to pour drinks for men.”

“I don’t know but if we don’t do something, your father and those men will only make things worse, you have nowhere else to go.” 

How Jungkook got Yoongi to come back with him he would never know but he was thankful he did. As the two climbed over the wall to the kisaeng house, they were unaware of a pair of eyes watching them.

Summers End 1654 Hanseong,

Things have gotten worse. The officials have suspected someone in the kisaeng house is a man, it won’t be long before they send someone to investigate. We are trying to figure out how we can hide them and their extra appendages, but the situation doesn’t seem very hopeful. If things keep going the way they are, the town will become slaves to the merchants and no woman or child will be safe from their wrath.

Yeong-hui (Hojang of the Kisaeng house)

There was an abrupt knock at the door, startling the Hojang. She sat up and began dressing, as a woman should never be seen underdressed, then she opened the door. The steward bowed low before relaying a message. “There are officials at the front gate, asking to enter the premise.”

Yeong-hui didn’t waste any time. Tying her hair as she walked, looking regal as always, she stopped at the front gate and signaled for the doors to be opened. 

“Miss Yeong-hui, we have heard multiple rumors that the Kisaeng house is harboring a fugitive from war—” one of the officials started.

“I will stop you right there,” Yeong-hui interrupted. “You have the right to search the property only when my girls have woken and dressed appropriately. It is perverse for you to even insinuate that I would allow you to enter while they are sleeping. You shall be allowed entry in when the sunlight reaches the Jing (gong) in the town center.”

Yeong-hui gestured behind them to the Jing and the man went to argue. 

“No exceptions. Cooperate, or when you find there is no fugitive within these walls that you have barged into for nothing more than a story,” she eyed their Baji (lower part of a man’s hanbok), “well then I guess I could use a few more eunuch’s to help with chores now, don’t I?”

The men squirmed and the man leading the search party faltered. 

“I would also like to see the confirmation letter from the king as I want proof you are allowed to step foot into my home,” Yeong-Hui added.

“Fine, we will get permission from the King. We will return at the specified time and nothing will stop us searching the premise and the ‘girls’ within the walls,” the leader of the search squad huffed before steering his men away from the front gate.

Yeong-hui headed inside, waking the young women early. She raced to the secluded sleeping quarters where the boys were staying. She saw them all sleeping haphazardly and smiled fondly. 

She saw Taehyung wrapped around Namjoon, he was upside down on the older boy's futon hugging his calves, his face pressed between the scholar's ankles. Jungkook had his torso draped over Hoseok’s legs and his foot dangerously close to Seokjin’s face. Jimin’s head was on the eldest’s wide shoulders and even though Yoongi was the first away his pale thin arm stretched across the futon and was sweetly held in Jimin’s grasp.

They had all grown so much and had learned important life lessons that she was happy to be a part of their growth. 

Without a moment longer, she woke the boys with a clap and a call. “Ladies, it is time to get up, the officials are sending a search party to find any man hidden within the kisaeng house.” She said, and what happened next was like a flash of lightning before the deep rumble of thunder. The boys jolted out of their beds, then a barrage of young girls burst through the doors, clutching bags of makeup, hair accessories, and armsful of fabric.

“You have to get up and get ready, the officials are coming!” Some of the ladies shouted, helping the men get dressed without batting an eyelash, ignoring the fact that they were all practically shirtless. Yeong-hui smiled softly, it seemed she had underestimated the ladies, how they had found out about the boys, and even took care of them.

It was pleasant to see them all coming together. If only they could change the way men and women interacted, if only they could show women were more intelligent and stronger than they were perceived to be.

The Kisaeng house started breakfast early. Yeong-hui explained that she would have the girls present themselves to the officials one by one and each of the boys would be placed randomly in between the girls. It would draw too much attention if the odd-looking ladies were to meet the officials one after another.

The officials came and started their interrogation. After the first group of girls was individually interviewed and scrutinized, Seokjin headed inside. If anyone could pass, it would be him. The Hojang smiled, sitting on a magnificent seat at the head of the table while the officials were off to the side, on less elaborate cushions.

“This is the beautiful Seojin, she has become the best cook in the house,” Yeong-hui smiled, and the officials blushed when Seojin blew them a kiss after taking a seat gracefully.

“Alright, next” the official stuttered after receiving a wink. Seokjin had passed.

After the next group of girls, Jimin walked into the room. As his long elegant legs strode in, there was a presence around him that made all the officials tense. He moved with allure and as he sat in perfect posture, the sleeve of his Jeogori slipped revealing a dainty shoulder and sensual clavicle.

The officials were sweating profusely, shifting in their seats. “This is Jimin, she is a dancer would you like to see?” The Hojang gestured for Jimin to begin, and Jimin started moving slowly with a delicate wave of the fan. 

The officials were quick to decide and Jimin raced off smiling coyly. Another group passed and this time Hoseok came in, acting cute and charming the men. Yoongi’s turn then came, and his small frame and soft features helped him pass. When it came to Taehyung, he gave the officials his powerful gaze and devilishly said, “I can show you that I am a woman, if you want,” while playing with the hem of his skirt.

Yeong-hui was almost in stitches; something about the way these boys shamelessly flirted for their freedom had her choking back her laughter. Namjoon stepped in wearing a soft veil. “Miss Namsoon is quite a shy girl but she loves when some of the visitors to the tea house read to her.”

“Men such as yourselves would be ever so popular and have gardens of beautiful flowers for you to pick. But there is a part of me who wishes that I may be the sweet flower that you might choose.” Namjoon giggled slightly making the men nervous with such forward words “That I could be the one to make you smile. The one who can make a long day feel like it was nothing when you come home.”

Last was Jungkook who sang a song he had made to the group of men and talked about making friends whilst doing the laundry. Jungkook was allowed to leave and the men finished their search of the property before leaving, albeit a little flustered and a little sheepish for their antics earlier that morning.

The house was lively for the young women who had sensed the weight of the interviews and therefore felt the celebratory relief. Yeong-hui allowed the boys to run around and play freely; they and a few young women began kicking a ball around the inner courtyard.

As the group dwindled, Yoongi was left sitting on the porch, his head tilted back, eyes shut enjoying the breeze. Yeong-hui grabbed a bottle of the Park family's best soju and two ceramic glasses, then moved across the hand-polished wooden floor before sitting down, legs dangling over the edge beside Yoongi.

“You care for a drink?” Yeong-hui smiled softly waving the bottle in her hand. Yoongi nodded, moving to take the bottle as he was younger, but she began pouring for him. She poured elegantly and effortlessly, making no mistake as if she was demonstrating in front of the class.

Yoongi thanked her politely and the two began drinking in silence. It didn’t take long for Yoongi to spill all his troubles, expressing his struggles from the beginning.

“I can’t touch him, I will have to leave the town, my father won’t allow me to stay.  He has a pile of land deeds so even if I found a place somewhere, he likely owns it.” Yoongi downed the next glass. “I could show him how good women are, that they aren’t delicate flowers, that they can plot and scheme and m I could probably steal the land deeds right from under his nose.”

“Well, why don’t we do just that?” Yeong-hui smiled, and the two began plotting an elaborate coup to retrieve the land deeds. Yeong-hui walked slowly, leading Yoongi back to his quarters but when they got close, they could hear Seokjin’s voice shouting.

“I knew it! I knew those words sounded familiar! You have been reading my letters?” Seokjin said “...have gardens of beautiful flowers for you to pick. But there is a part of me who wishes that I may be the sweet flower that you might choose.”

Hoseok was cackling and pointed out, “he didn’t read them, he is the one who wrote them!”

“What do you mean?” Seokjin asked, his voice almost dying down.

“The women in town would pay me to write love letters addressed to you,” Namjoon said cautiously, and the group laughed. 

Autumn Chuseok (Harvest festival) 1654 Hanseong,

It took a lot of planning and preparation but everyone was willing and ready to do their job. Tonight was the Chuseok festival; the tea house was open and the ladies of the kisaeng walked the streets dressed elaborately, inviting men inside to drink at a fee. 

Usually, each young woman would bring in men who looked like they were of noble status. They were advised to stay clear of any man wearing the bandit emblem. Tonight, however, it was encouraged. The unsavory men were led inside and shown all the respects of a nobleman if not more. The women were working undercover and they weren’t going to let the operation down.

Within the tea house were Seokjin, Yoongi, and Jungkook.  While working, Yoongi was explaining who was who, and soon they had their targets. The boys split up, getting to work trying to impress the merchants, and having them each pay more and more money for some alcohol.

Yoongi as Yoonji was making quick work of his targets, whispering filthy things in their ears and having them drink until they were inebriated. Then he took their coin pouches and moved on to the next unsuspecting victim, who was also a member of his father’s gang.

Across town, Jimin, Taehyung, and Hoseok, accompanied by a handful of the kisaeng, headed to Yoongi’s father's home. Jimin was quick to move up the side of the building, slipping upstairs while the men were drinking boisterously downstairs. Jimin was light-footed and found the small box hidden just as Yoongi had described.

He took the box, it was heavy with deeds, gold, and more, and as he moved to escape, he bumped his foot on the side of the table. 

“Did you hear that?” 

Jimin froze.

“Good evening would you men be interested in going to the kisaeng tea house?  We have many delicious festival snacks for you to try?” Taehyung said playfully and the men blushed to see a group of women poking their heads into the butcher’s home.

The men looked flustered and eventually refused to say they had to stay and take care of the place. Jimin was able to escape and the group graciously began heading back to the kisaeng house. 

They were almost back safe within the kisaeng walls when they heard a shout. 

“Hey!” The group froze, Jimin hiding with the box in the middle of the group. “You dropped this” The man smiled, blushing profusely having to talk to a stunning Taehyung.

Taehyung took his handkerchief and smiled, “thank you.” The group continued on their way, hurrying inside the house where they met Namjoon, working hard over a desk. 

In the days leading to the coup, Namjoon and Yeong-hui had taken a census of families within the village. They found that the gang had been procuring land for many years before the war.

Namjoon, with the newly acquired land deeds from Yoongi’s father’s house, was now dividing land and profits, ensuring each family would have a home and land to live on.

The next morning, the members of the gang were regretful of their night and were in foul moods. Yoongi’s father marched to the kisaeng house and began pounding his fists on the doors, demanding to enter the premises. 

Yeong-hui signaled the doors to be opened, and the man entered, alone. He stepped forward, looking at the group of women dressed in baji and holding weapons. The man spotted Yoongi standing on the far end of the inner courtyard. 

Yeong-hui walked through the group of women until she stood in front of Yoongi who was dressed as a woman and was not at all ashamed. “You stole from me, you little rat?” Yoongi nodded. His father’s face was bright red, “I will kill you!”

The women moved with a loud cry and the man faltered, releasing a mocking laugh. “You think you can hurt me?”

“Yes, I believe we can,” Jimin smiled, standing in front of the women, just in case the man was an unexpected fighter. He was a street merchant after all and they weren’t known for fighting fair. However, it seemed the women were holding their own, as they started knocking the man to the ground.

Spring 1655 Hanseong,

With the power restored, the people are thriving, the women are stronger than ever. The land is now divided, ensuring there are better harvests and more trade among the vendors. I have been working to teach the girls in the kisaeng how to read and write, training them to be scholars. Seokjin and I are planning to present the young women in front of the king, as well-educated scholars. 

Seokjin has been around a lot. Having perfected his cooking skills, he happily teaches the women his favorite dishes. Something about being free and independent and able to make his food makes the man happy. He likes how free he feels, admitting he originally thought it was the women who were free to do whatever they wanted but he was wrong.

Yoongi has found he has a real talent for playing some of the instruments, and he and Jungkook spend their days making songs. Hoseok and Jimin enjoy dancing and are some of the best dancers, and Jimin also spends his time teaching the young ladies how to defend themselves. Jungkook has made light-weight weapons for the women who find themselves in the ways of fighting. 

Taehyung teaches Art and keeps things in the kisaeng house light with sports and games. It wasn’t long before a new age began, the age of female growth.

Let’s just say when the fathers, brothers, and husbands return home from war they will be in for quite a shock, as every family now owns the land and the land deeds are under the women’s names. The women are all stronger, smarter, and happier.

Every day the Hojang fights to liberate her girls more and more, we help however we can even if we have to dress up as women to do it. As for the Hojang, Miss Yeong-hui, whose name means eternal play, she has changed her name to Jester. She is now working on a project to use some of the young women trained to fight for future espionage.

Kim Namjoon

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[snidgetwidgeon]

Insurrection Recollections Series: Clandestine Research

After Zelda's father orders her to give up her research, Zelda and Purah hatch a plan. The only way it will succeed is if Link intervenes.

~~~

The day after her father told her she could no longer waste her time by playing the scholar, Zelda was issued an official written directive via castle courier as if she were one of his subordinates. She was livid. It instructed her to relinquish all of her ancient technology artefacts and materials to the Tech Lab by the end of the week. Oh how considerate of him to give me some time to sort out my busy schedule! She tore the missive to pieces and threw it in the fireplace.

Fine. She would do it post haste to the detriment of everything else she had going on. Studies with her economy instructor? Nope, she had a directive. Receiving the latest visiting dignitary in court that evening? Nope, she had a directive from the King. A fruitless visit to the Spring of Power to perform devotions that brought her nothing but scorn from her own people? Thank Nayru she had a Goddess damned directive from her father that allowed her to avoid the very thing she no longer wanted to do anyway!

Link looked on as Princess Zelda stomped back and forth between her room and study, forgetting things in her state and then becoming even more upset. He had offered his help but she refused so he stood watch on the bridge. The best he could do was stay out of her way and be available at a moment’s notice.

When she finally got to her journal, having left it for last, she closed the door to her study to have a moment of privacy. As she re-read some of the pages detailing her adventures into archaeology, she thought about how they were merely notes and should not be subject to the purge. She decided to keep it.

Emerging from her study with a resolve that Link could see was strained at best, Zelda nodded to him that she was ready to leave. He hailed an available attendant and they assisted in carrying items down to the stables. Even with Zelda insisting on carrying some things herself, the attendant would need to make one more trip and grab another person along the way.

While the rest was being collected, Zelda and Link saddled up the horses in silence. To anyone else, this would seem no different from the early days of their time together when she resented him and their silence was cold and strained. Now it was a companionable silence. He caught her looking at him over her horse’s back as she was tightening her straps. He smiled.

She felt a flush and a sudden need to make an excuse. “You always have such a way with horses...” She then ducked behind hers and pretended to do something else.

Between their mounts and a third mare carrying normal travel supplies, they were able to take everything. Zelda also wore a satchel on her back with a few of the more delicate items. As they made their way through the grounds, Link steered his horse around slightly, indicating down the path that led to the docks and asked, “Shall we take the ferry?”

“No, thank you.” She looked straight ahead with her nose stuck figuratively up toward her father as she passed him. “I would like to make this trip last as long as possible if you don’t mind.”

~~~

They arrived in the evening, just in time for dinner. Zelda and Link had agreed on the way there that she could have a night of normalcy. While she went in, he attended the horses and unloaded everything, stacking it in a tidy pile just inside the workshop to be dealt with in the morning. He then joined the others, received a heaping serve of beef curry and proceeded to keep mostly to himself as he was wont to do in large social gatherings. 

He watched Zelda closely, but not obviously, and noticed how very bittersweet it all was for her. She would no doubt be wishing it could be like any other visit. She laughed and carried on with the others, sharing how well the trials at the castle had gone the previous day. But he could see it. Any small moment where she wasn’t engaged with someone, her face fell and the light was gone from her eyes. When Purah noticed and asked if she was alright, she easily brushed it off by saying she was just tired from her busy schedule and a full day of travel.

The following morning, Link was in tow when Zelda entered Purah’s messy workspace with the Sheikah Slate. They had already seen to the items in the workshop, making sure they were distributed to the proper places around the Lab.

“Good morning, good morning! You’re just in time- oh, I’m so glad you brought the Slate. I meant to send word that you should come by the Lab soon so I could use it, but you must have read my mind because here you are; and I completely forgot to send the word.” She put her arm around Zelda’s shoulders and guided her to the large stone in the middle of the room, “Come, I want you to look at this and tell me what you think.”

Zelda let herself be dragged over but instead of looking at the stone, she sort of glazed over in an effort to shield herself from more pain. “Purah, I must apologize.”

“What for? Give it a second, I didn’t expect you to figure it out right away, silly.”

“No, I mean- I should have told you first thing last night.” She handed the Sheikah Slate to Purah who took it with brows furrowed in concern but also remained quiet to listen to her friend.

“Father has ordered me to focus all of my attention on my training. I’m- I can no longer assist the research team. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, I just... kind of wanted to pretend it didn’t happen for as long as I could.”

“Oh, Zelly, no. It’s ok.” Purah gave her a quick but sincere hug before going off. “Din’s balls, this is the pits! I’ll be lodging a formal complaint- you watch me- he can’t take away one of my best researchers.” She waved the Slate around dramatically. “Now I’m going to have to find a new translator; who does he think he is!?”

Zelda started giggling. As always, Purah’s infectious energy and earnestness made her feel a bit less crap when she was down. “The King,” Zelda’s giggling evolved into open laughter. ”He’s the King, Purah.”

Purah just pushed up her glasses and said matter-of-factly, “Well... King or no King, he’s acting like a fool.”

Link smiled from his post across the room thinking about how he couldn’t agree more. The day before yesterday on the bridge he had questioned if his oath to protect the Princess extended to defending her from the King himself.

“Were you leaving today?” Purah asked, but didn’t let Zelda answer and kept talking, “You’re not leaving today. I need your help with something and you aren’t officially done until you leave, you hear? Come with me.” She strode out of her office on a mission.

Zelda smiled after her and then looked at Link with a raised brow asking- not for his approval, but more his opinion. He merely shrugged and gestured that she should follow the woman.

Over the course of the day Link observed their antics and found moments to opportunistically disappear when it looked like they were going to need a person for some sort of trial. That night, some celebrations ramped up as Purah decided to throw a gratitude party to thank Zelda for all that she had contributed. Link thought that idea was pretty smart, making it look like Zelda’s choice to take on other important tasks. This way, she could leave with her head held high, at least until she was out of sight.

About mid morning the following day, Link got the horses ready for the return home and then realized he may have been a bit preemptive when he went to collect Zelda. She and Purah looked at him like startled foxes when he entered Purah’s office and they proceeded to finish their conversation in hushed voices.

Perhaps Zelda wanted to stay on longer? Then Purah spoke normally again and handed Zelda a book. “So, if you could just take that one back to my room, that would be great.”

Zelda nodded and said nonchalantly, “No problem.”

As she walked out, Link started to follow, but Purah exclaimed, “Oh, Link! Could you help me carry these?” She grinned, “Please?”

“Um, sure. What is it?” he asked when he didn’t see anything specific that she was asking about.

“Just a sec!” Her eyes darted around and she grabbed a box that already had a few guardian pieces in it which she proceeded to unceremoniously dump in the middle of the floor. She then flitted around the room grabbing random items to throw in the box that she needed ‘help’ carrying.

He wandered over to the second story window to check on the horses outside while he waited to see how- whatever it was that she was up to- played out. He didn’t have to wait long at all as he noticed Zelda, distinctly not in Purah’s room, and still holding onto that book. He immediately knew what it was. Ancient contraband.

She approached her white horse and gave it a scratch as she went to place the book in her saddlebags. As she lifted the flap she hesitated for a moment. He smirked as she went over to his horse instead and buried the book into his saddle bag. Clever, but not clever enough. If she was worried that her father might go as far as to search her things when she returned, then he was not going to take the chance that they wouldn’t do the same to him. He’d have to hide it better later.

“Right! So... this stuff here. Could you please take it downstairs?” Purah requested with another cheesy grin.

He balked a little at everything sticking out of it. She couldn’t at least have made her distraction easy? He gave a little sigh, “No problem.”

~~~

That night as Zelda slept by the campfire, Link snuck over to the horses and quietly dug through his saddle bag for the book. She tucked it right at the bottom under the other book he generally kept with him in case he ever had time to kill. He looked back over to her sleeping form and surreptitiously stuck it behind his back just inside the waistband of his trousers, then tightened his belt over it a bit. Sleep would be a bit less comfortable and he’d have to wear his cloak over it even if he got warm tomorrow, but that should do the trick.

When they arrived back home, Link clocked that their approach was noticed with a bit more interest than usual. Zelda may not have been wrong in her suspicions regarding her father; the King was becoming more stressed and paranoid by the day.

They were met at the West gatehouse by a young castle guard who looked nervous. “Many pardons Princess Zelda, but we have instructions to check your cargo.”

She kept her calm and said coldly, “Do as you will.”

Another guard approached to help and she felt her ire rise as they rummaged through her things right next to her. She didn’t bother hiding her withering stare. She wasn’t going to make it easy for them.

Once they were satisfied, the guard bowed. “My apologies, Princess.”

“Indeed.” She then clicked for her horse to continue and went no more than two steps before she heard the guard behind her ask for Link to please remain still for a search as well. Her stomach sank and she twisted around in her saddle before pulling her mount up sideways. Outwardly, she appeared to just be waiting for her Knight Attendant. Link appeared entirely unfazed, and why wouldn’t he? He didn’t know that she’d foolishly set him up to be punished.

Her eyes darted back and forth between the guards, then stared sharply at the one that took out a book. He turned it over and opened it to a random page in the middle before nodding to Link and placing it back in his bag. “Our apologies, Sir Link. Please enjoy the rest of your day.” They crossed an arm across their chest and nodded.

Link came to join her as she continued a few more steps before she stopped awkwardly. Her mind was racing. Did it get lost!? She gave a harried look at Link who returned it with a head tilt of curiosity. Did he find it and throw it out!? She couldn’t act on any of her agonizing questions!

“On second thought,” she called after the guards, “You may take the horses to the stables. Please have my things delivered and report to my father that I will be resting from today’s journey and will not be disturbed.” She dismounted, continuing out of the gatehouse on foot. Link followed suit.

As she went up the steps leading to the courtyard below her quarters, she was afraid to say anything with patrolling guards so near. She finally stomped up the stairs to her room in a frenzied state. That book was important! How was she going to find out about what happened to it without being seriously reprimanded from going against her father’s will?

She practically forgot Link was behind her and before she entered her room, he said in a hushed tone, “The next time you need me to hide something for you,” he pulled the book out from under his tunic behind his back, “it might be better that I’m actually involved.”

She looked down at it and her eyes widened before snapping back up to his smug face. It quickly turned into one of shock as she grabbed him by the front of his tunic and pulled him in. After riding the highest levels of stress, fear of discovery, and relief all in the span of a few minutes, she latched onto him in a tight hug without a second thought. “Thank Hylia, you have it! First I thought I was fine, then I thought I’d- and you would be punished for sure as well, and then I thought it was lost somehow-” she had pulled away at this point, “but how could it be? I hid it at the very bottom.”

Link watched her nervous rambling with a rather judgmental, yet amused expression.  

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

He held his hands up, book still in one, as if to accept defeat to a potential argument that hadn’t even started.

“I didn’t think that they would bother to search you.” She stopped herself as she noticed her old habit of deflecting fault was rearing its ugly head. She had vowed to be better since he saved her life in the desert and right now, that meant an apology was probably due.

She sighed, “I’m sorry, Link. I should have trusted you. I guess I just thought that you wouldn’t approve or... may have stopped me.”

“Have you met you?” he asked rhetorically as he handed the book over.

She copped his joke and pressed her lips together hard so she wouldn’t laugh on principle, but her belly bounced a little  in a silent chortle anyway. Once she regained her composure her brows knitted and she enquired, “But why didn’t you just tell me you knew before we got back? You could have-” her mouth gaped as she gasped in realization. “You were getting back at me for not telling you!?”

“I did think I was owed a tiny bit of payback for being an unknowing accomplice in smuggling your ancient contraband.”

“Well... I...” She became flustered in her defeat.

He hadn’t meant to actually make her feel bad so he smiled. “It’s ok. I’m on your side so just tell me next time you need help.”

He probably thought that was just a nice thing to say but his genuine declaration of support struck right to the base of her core. The oaths that they had taken at the beginning of this colossal mess had meant nothing to her back then, but through the eventual development of their friendship, she discovered that those ties now carried weight; and though she still felt useless for the coming trial, she respected their bond more than ever. And he did too. Urbosa and Impa were the only other people whom she felt truly knew her. Now she had another, and she felt blessed that he was always by her side.

Blinking away her hard stare at his words, she came back to herself and said, “Alright then. Since you’re now in on this, you can be my mule.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I’m Purah’s best translator so I’ll need you to feed any potential discoveries to Impa. If she’s away you can take them to Robbie. He’ll still be here for a while yet working on the Guardians.”

She continued nattering on, the way she did when she seemed to speak more to herself than to another person, while she sat down with the book at her desk and started to flip through the pages. “I’ll be starting right away. I’ve actually been dying to dive in. Did you want to stay until I get something ready or do you have things you need to do?”

When she looked back at him he had an unspoken expectation on his face which she proceeded to misread. “It’s quite alright if you have things to take care of, I’m sure I’ll be a while yet before I have- oh! You mean,” she smiled sheepishly and then cleared her throat. “Sorry. Sir Link, do you consent?”

The way she asked had him closing his eyes and shaking his head in amusement.

“No?”

“No- I mean, yes, Princess, you have my consent.” He bowed eloquently. “I’ll return later when you might have something for me.”

“Thank you.”  

He opened the door to leave and she added, “And thank you for...”

He stopped and looked back.

“For being on my side,” she finished.

He nodded and went.

She sat for a few moments looking at where he’d just been, a tingle running through all of her limbs in a wave, causing goosebumps.

~~~

There had been a few things of interest that she sent to Purah via Link’s underground network. Thankfully, she had kept many detailed notes about how to translate ancient Sheikah text. She always was a good note taker. Her very own research journal was an invaluable resource that she had justifiably not been made to give up. Her father must have either thought she couldn’t do much with it or didn’t want to go to such an extent to violate her personal belongings after he took the only thing that was bringing her any joy.

She was out at her study tower again, working on it at a time she was not likely to be disturbed- but even if she were, Link was on duty outside. She came across a passage on underground structures and thought she was finally on track to learning where the pillars were. If only they could be located, the research team would supposedly be able to harness many more Guardians, not just the ones that had been dug up. These ones were properly stored and ready for when the Calamity struck.

With her potential conclusion on the material of the passage being under such a bias, she kept getting stuck. The page wasn’t making sense as it stated the pillars were all over Hyrule; but she knew them to be under the castle.

She read on about something pertaining to activation of the network, or that everything was connected, or... something. Her eyes were getting tired and she felt a brain melt coming on. If only she had more points of reference. She pined after the Slate. In its absence, all she had left was the library and she couldn’t risk going there without being watched. She started to lean back in her chair and zone out at her wall in abject defeat when she noticed a doodle. It was a less detailed, but accurate copy of the tapestry in Impa’s office.

Just as she began to think she wouldn’t glean anything from a picture she’d looked at a thousand times, she noticed the pillars framing the castle. There were also a few of the same at the bottom, and one in each quadrant... all around Hyrule. But the others wouldn’t be the pillars. They look like towers.

She sat up straight and began to re-read the translation. If she thought of them as towers, and there was some sort of connection between them- but where were they? She’d practically been all over the kingdom and had never seen such a structure. Perhaps buried, like the pillars!

With newly invigorated passion, she stood and stretched, then crossed the small circular room to the door. Opening it part way, she saw Link standing at ease and then turning to regard her.

“Sir Link? I believe I am in dire need of a hot chocolate in order to continue performing at the best of my abilities. Could you please send for one?”

He smiled knowingly and dipped his head in kind before leaving to find an attendant or a less strictly positioned guard to pass on the request.

“Oh, and please get one for yourself! If you want to,” she added.

He waved behind him to acknowledge he’d heard.

She closed the door and looked over at the materials on her desk and the drawing of the tapestry. She felt there was something potentially big here. If so, she wanted so badly to find a way to tell Impa or Purah herself. She thought of the devotions she had looming in a few hours time. They were now most of her days and she felt more like a helpless failure than ever before. She couldn’t bear the thought of never being able to share in discoveries again. She would wait until she could see them somehow. At least then she would have some joy.

[hellfireinfrozenlands]

Hi!! I'm here for that NIF breakdown of why the massacre of the Chiyan army and Prince Qi's death was inevitable? I know i miss a lot of the subtext that doesn't explicitly happen on screen, so i'd love to hear your thoughts on the villains ^^

Hello! I didn't think you'd actually take up the offer :) Spoiler ahead!

Xia Jiang:

I'll start with Xia Jiang first because he is the easiest. As shown in ep38, Prince Qi suggested to get rip of the Xuan Jing Bureau. The Emperor dismissed that suggestion completely but Xia Jiang overheard that and felt threatened by Prince Qi. The thing is, even if he never overhear that conversation, he would still find a way to get rip of Prince Qi. If Prince Qi become Emperor, being the righteous and benevolent person that people said he was, Prince Qi would never approve of the way the bureau works, the torture, the killing, etc.. And since the bureau is working directly for the Emperor and the main reason why everyone is scared of them is because the bureau is trusted by the Emperor. So even if Prince Qi never suggest to get rip of Xuan Jing Bureau or if he still keep them around during his reign somehow, isn't disuse and mistrust amount to the same thing as disposal? Xia Jiang is a smart guy, he probably saw this coming. The conversation he overheard is only a reminder of his eventually demise.

Xie Yu:

By the time of the massacre, Xie Yu would have been the brother-in-law of the Emperor for about 11-12 years. He is an ambitious guy, always aiming for the highest power. He picked the current Crown Prince because it's easy for him to manipulate and control the court (funny enough, I think the Emperor pick him as Crown Prince for the same reason). Somehow, he was always losing to Lin Xie by a small margin. His wife is the Emperor's half-sister, whereas Jin Yang and the Emperor were full siblings. Xie Yu is a general (he was in the Chiyan army at one point too!) but comparing to Lin Xie, he was not as well-known and didn't achieve as much. It was probably frustrating for him seeing the other brother-in-law of the Emperor having all the influence and respect at the court. For him to gain more power, he would need to get rip of his competitors and become Da Liang's main defender. The Chiyan massacre killed two birds with one stone. Xie Yu is a simple guy; he just want power and honour for his family, both of which were very important back then.

It never stated explicitly how the alliance between Xie Yu and Xia Jiang came to be but I would bet it was Xia Jiang who approached Xie Yu first.

The Emperor:

Okay, to talk about the Emperor we need to talk about Prince Qi first. Here are what we know of Prince Qi:

- He was the Emperor's oldest son. Given that the Empress, the official wife, doesn't have any surviving son, the Crown Prince position would normally goes to the firstborn son, unless the mother of that prince's background is unsuitable. We don't know if Prince Qi ever become an official Crown Prince or not, but since it's inevitable, I would say the ministers and generals in the court would treat him like a Crown Prince regardless. That means if the Emperor is ill or absent, all the officials would turn to Prince Qi for leadership.

- Prince Qi's mother was the sister of the general who not only had the biggest and mightiest army in the country with long list of achievements to boost, he was also the Emperor's close friend and brother-in-law through his sister and wife (that's one messed up family O.o). I assume Lin Xie's words and actions would influence the court greatly. And Prince Qi no doubt had his uncle's support.

- Prince Qi himself was also a kind, smart and well-loved prince. In ep46, Prince Yu said that no one can become a second Prince Qi and no matter how hard Prince Jing try, he cannot compete with Prince Qi. Hell, even the Emperor himself said so (ep46). Prince Qi was the brightest, outshone all other princes and the Emperor too. Let's say if the Emperor and Prince Qi has different approach on an issue one day in court, whose idea do you think the ministers most likely lean towards to?

To sum, Prince Qi was this magnificent prince who is a better suited Emperor than the Emperor himself. Since so many people were willing to die to defend for Prince Qi's innocent, I would say he had the support of most ministers and generals in the court. He was loved by the people. He had the support, or at least approval, of the Emperor's own uncle and Li Chong, a scholar held in high esteem by many (this implied by Grand Princess Liyang in ep 51) (Li Chong is the person whose books Prince Yu want to gift to MCS in ep 2). His material uncle was this general who had held sway in the court. Etc etc... Not to mention he was good looking (said by Marquis Yan Que in ep34) and young. Prince Jing was 19 when the massacre happened so I'd say Prince Qi was in his mid 20s and the Emperor maybe in his mid 40s, perfect time to have a midlife crisis!

Putting aside the Emperor's suspicious nature, if you're in the Emperor's shoes, won't you feel inferior standing next to such prince? Many of your subjects rather listening to your son than you (ep 53), whether that son is the Crown Prince or not didn't matter. Your close friends (Yan Que and Lin Xie) sang praises of this son. It seemed as though everyone is just waiting for you to die and pass the throne to your son who will undoubtedly be a better Emperor than you will ever dream of. All of this insecurities of the Emperor you can see in the last conversation he had with MCS in ep 53. He said the perfect world that Lin Xie wish for no one can achieve that for him, not even Prince Qi. Lin Xie and Yan Que helped the Emperor with the rebellion against his father(?) and brothers to ascend the throne. They put all their hopes and dreams on the Emperor's shoulder but he couldn't give them that utopia (I disagree, but that should be for another time). They were disappointed, or so the Emperor assumed, but then they gained new hope in the form of Prince Qi. Once again, they put all their hopes and dreams on this young prince (Yan Que praised Prince Qi on several occasions and that's when he already dead, imagine what's it like when he was still alive) and unintentionally abandoned their friend, the Emperor. At that point, the Emperor was like a phone being pushed aside by a better model. He felt insecure but he couldn't show it because the Emperor isn't supposed to show weakness. Nonetheless, Xie Yu and Xia Jiang saw through him and they manipulated his insecurity and doubt to their advantage. The Emperor rebelled to get his throne, so he had no reason to assume Prince Qi wouldn't do the same. And the massacre happened.

The saddest part is that all of this could be prevented if only Prince Qi and the Emperor understand each other. If Prince Qi could understand his father, he could see the insecurity and how his presence affect his father's self-esteem. He could dial back a bit, maybe not challenging his father's decisions all the time and maybe not do it publicly. If the Emperor could understand his son, he would know that Prince Qi only did these things because he cared for the people and not because he didn't respect his father (or maybe he did, I don't know). Prince Qi had no reason to rebel with all the supports he had. There was no better candidate than him; all he needed to do is to be patience and prepare for his ascension. And to his father who had to fight tooth and nail to get to where he is now, Prince Qi's inevitable ascension is a something to be envy of. That's why to me, Prince Qi's last words, 'Father doesn't understand son, son doesn't understand father' is very poignant.

I need to shut up now, otherwise I will go on forever. I highly recommend you to watch the conversation between MCS and the Emperor in ep 53 again but try to look from the Emperor's perspective. It's an eye opener.

One of reasons Nirvana in Fire is great is its villains. They are very human and even though they are people living in a stringent and traditional period, I'm sure you know someone who have some of their traits. Eg. if you're a CEO and your company is about to be disbanded, wouldn't you try to save it no matter what? The reason why the consequences of their actions are so great is because of the power and position they hold which amplify the outcomes ten-fold.

P.S NIF is a show with a lot of subtleties. This is how I interpret the implications, feel free to drop your interpretation! And please correct me if I make any mistake. English is not my first language so I hope this makes sense!

P.P.S I want to add pictures to this post to make my point but I don't know how orz

[loki-godofmischief-myking]

Remnant Daughter

Loki x Deceased!Reader x Daughter OC

Loki loved you. There was no one else he loved more than you. The day you died he resolved to protect that love that had resulted in a daughter. She was a perfect reminder of you, one he would preserve. No harm would ever come to her so long as he lived. 

Warning: None really. Just note that here Loki never tried taking over Midgard. When he found out his Jotun heritage he didn’t resent Odin and Frigga, rather thanked them for his upbringing.

“Loki-”

Loki tossed and turned in his bed as he heard his name being called out. The voice was meek and full of desperation. His skin began to turn blue as his mind took him back to the day he lost you.

Your lower body shook and trembled as you had yet to recover from delivering your baby daughter. One hand kept you stable along the cold cavern walls as the other held your newborn close to your chest. 

A cold huff of air escaped you as you got closer to the cavern’s opening where you could hear your husband fending off the intruders.

Unfortunately, your pregnancy had not been easy. Only Jotunheim housed the climate appropriate for your half-Jotun daughter. You were near death when you arrived, your skin burning to the touch. Only Loki was able to handle your feverish skin long enough to get you to where you had to be. 

After finding out his true parentage Loki remained in Asgard- where his beloved was. All for you, he gave up his line to the throne letting it go to Laufey’s other son. A son who hated Loki’s very existence.

When he had gotten word of his being within the realm he sent for him. That is when they caught wind of his reason for coming back. Laufeyson ordered your child be taken and killed to honor his father’s wish that would have seen Loki dead in the first place.

Loki would never allow any harm upon his child. A child you had desperately wanted in order to complete the vision of a perfect family you always painted for him. 

In full Jotun form, Loki growled, “Leave while I allow it.”

The Jotuns towered over him still, not backing down after being given strict orders from their king. 

“Loki,” you happily sighed as you saw your husband was unharmed.

Loki’s chest constricted once he heard the sweet sound of your voice. Only in his sleep could he accurately recall how truly beautiful a sound it was.

Without a moment to spare you had your free arm wrapped around him as your daughter was warmly nestled between you. ���Thank Norns you are safe.”

He returned your embrace kissing the top of your head before tucking it under his chin. “You should not be out here, it is not safe. He will send others.”

“How can I remain hidden and do nothing when you are outnumbered? I am your wife, I will forever stand by your side.”

Loki’s chest rose and fell rapidly as he desperately tried to will himself awake knowing very well what came next. But his efforts were fruitless as his mind made him relive the most traumatic moment of his life. 

"Choose, your wife or your daughter?” 

“Don’t you dare harm her!” 

Laufeyson inched his ax closer to your neck when Loki took a step towards him, making you feel the sharp edge against your rapidly cooling skin. He had stripped you of the warm fur-lined coat that had kept your body temperature stable in the harsh cold of the realm. The thin Asgardian dress did little to shield you from the sharp winds. Hypothermia would soon claim you who was not built for such an environment. 

Loki tried to keep from showing how horrified he was by the decision. He could see the fear in your eyes, the paling of your skin, and the soft whimpering of his newborn which he held in his arms. It was impossible to choose. 

He could never hand over his daughter and yet he could not fathom the idea of returning to Asgard without you.

“Daddy~”

“Choose!”

“L-loki,” you shivered. “Please take her and go,” you begged him through teary eyes. Of course, you did not want to die but you would give your life for his and hers. You wanted nothing more than their happiness.

“I can’t-”

“Please just...” you knew Loki would never make the decision. You knew you had to make it for him.

His eyes widened as he saw your hand discreetly pull a dagger out of your sleeve as you wordlessly mouthed your final confession of love for him.

Loki’s eyes shot open when small hands began to hit his chest repeatedly. His ragged breathing came to a halt when he saw the look of concern on his five-year-old daughter.

“Kari, what are you doing here?”

“I could not sleep.” 

Her bright red eyes examined his expression knowing very well that this was the case for him as well. Unlike Loki, she had no control over her eyes as they remained her natural Jotun red but lacked the sheer darkness behind them. There was a gleam that illuminated them, undeniably inherited from you. That very same gleam that had gotten him to notice you when he had been surrounded by women who only sought him for his title.

“You were having a bad dream Daddy.” In an effort to comfort her father Kari wrapped her little arms around his torso laying her head against his chest. “Was it about Mommy?”

As he looked down at her he could not help but remember the way you would cling to him begging him to stay with you a moment longer instead of going about his duties. If he knew then how limited his time with you would be... he would have fulfilled your every wish. Now all he could do was regret. 

“It was,” he responded by putting his own arms around her and kissing the top of her head. 

Kari immediately looked up giving him a look of sorrow. “Daddy,” her eyes silently apologized for your absence. “Mommy isn’t here but I am. Kari will always be here for you.”

The heart-wrenching words of his concerned daughter had Loki smiling. He tucked her in with a light-hearted chuckle to show he had been relieved of his lamentations. 

Once again she was his strength. 

“I know my dear.”

He would live to protect this last remnant of you.

\\\

“If you have already finished the reading then perhaps it is time we introduce you to more complex literature.”

Kari sighed as she followed behind her grandfather’s advisor. He was a tutor to her when it came to diplomacy. As a princess Kari was expected to learn everything there was to be known about all the realms. 

“Here,” the elder man handed her a rather large and heavy book. “This will be of use to you. I remember when I first read it. I was much younger then.”

“The reason I read so quickly is to rid myself of my duties. Had I known this was going to happen I would have dozed off longer.”

“Princess you have been gifted with a mind like no other.” He smiled at the young girl showing he meant well. “Your mother read her way through this library. She was always searching always wondering, a true scholar. Your father and mother were different in every sense. This was the only place they ever crossed paths.”

“So I hear... but I’m not nearly as interested in dusty old books.” She was an eight-year-old girl who wished to have fun with the other children. Until now she had been urged from one lesson to another. Diplomacy, etiquette, magic, archery, economics, language, astrology, and worst of all- math. But it mattered not what task they put in front of her. The young girl was incredibly talented with unmatched intelligence and natural charisma. 

“I want to have fun.”

So much so that at times everyone was thankful Loki was so strict on her.

“What would your Highness consider fun?”

Kari shrugged, fun was never something she strived for. Only recently had the word come about after she heard the other noble children raving about how they spent their days riding horses to a secret waterfall the adults knew not of. And through books, she learned the most fun realm of all was Midgard.

“I would like to go to another realm.”

“Another realm?”

The little girl nodded, “I wish to see things for myself rather than read someone else’s account.” Her eyes trained themselves on the rainbow bridge which she could make out in the distance from the window. “Someday I will travel and become master of all realms.”

“How ambitious of you little one.”

Kari beamed as she heard her grandmother’s voice. 

“Queen Frigga,” the advisor gave a curt bow of his head which she acknowledged. At the same time, he was relieved of his duties as Kari’s tutor to be turned over to her. He left the royals with a cautionary warning to the young one that she should not overlook the wisdom of old dusty books.

Being in the presence of her grandmother Kari knew she could relax, evident by the way she rid herself of the glamour spell she had perfected to conceal her bright red eyes with beautiful gold irises. Although beautiful she much rather preferred that which made her different. 

“Much better,” she exhaled contently.

Frigga smiled, “My...what a beautiful granddaughter I have been bestowed.” Her hand gently prodded Kari’s chin to tilt her head up so she could meet her eyes. 

The compliment immediately gained Kari’s laughter. “You always say that...”

“And I always mean it.”

The little girl’s smile reached her eyes only to be withdrawn when she heard the familiar grumbling of her grandfather. “Kari!” He sternly called her name, not a fan of her openly displaying her Jotun heritage. 

Immediately she hid her eyes from view. 

“What have I told you?”

Kari sighed, the lecture had been engraved in her memory. “That I must adapt to what Asgard expects of me... and what they expect is a well-mannered, well-bred Asgardian princess.”

The rest of Asgard knew not of Loki’s lineage. For his sake and now for Kari’s sake, Odin had them conceal their Jotun attributes in order to keep any from questioning Loki as a prince of Asgard. This was helped by the fact that you, a sensible young woman from a noble family took an interest in his son. You hid the truth well even from your own family who to this day believe you had died of complications during childbirth. 

They never approved of your relationship with Loki, in turn, they despised Kari for causing your premature death. 

This was something Kari had no knowledge of. Loki made sure her life was nothing but positive. If ever an inconvenience arose he would deal with it. Therefore your family no longer resided in Asgard. 

“Do not be so hard on her, she is only a child.”

Odin sighed knowing there was truth to Frigga’s statement but he was only looking out for his granddaughter. He truly cared for her. He had to ensure her future as a princess of Asgard. “She is the firstborn princess of Asgard. It is a title she must not take lightly.”

Loki appeared as if out of nowhere, his hands behind his back as he sported a playful smirk. “I really do wish Thor would just marry and give you other grandchildren to torment.” 

He was grateful for Odin taking him in but knew all his life he had been at a disadvantage with Thor who was a blood son. He knew once his brother had children Odin would turn his attentions to them the future Kings or Queens of Asgard. 

“Loki!” Frigga warned her youngest son to watch what he said, especially in front of Kari.

“Daddy,” Kari ran into her father’s arms happy to see he was back. Her arms latched around his neck as she rested her head on his shoulder. “I missed you.”

“And I missed you, my little one.” One arm carried her weight while the other hand gave her full head of silk-like hair a pat. 

Odin remained silent not justifying himself to Loki. He had his reasons for doing things the way he did just as Loki had his.

Thor soon appeared as well having been left behind by his brother. 

“Uncle Thor,” one hand reached out to him wanting to also greet him but not enough to let go of her father. 

“Kari, my sweet princess.” He smiled brightly at the affectionate scene before him of his niece latching onto his brother. Never had he seen him so openly display affection before Kari’s birth. Even with you, he seemed to hide his attraction making others question the validity of your relationship at one point. He reached out to hold her hand in his and kissed the top. “I hope you have behaved yourself while we were gone.”

“Of course she has.” “Of course I have.” Father and daughter simultaneously respond.

“Then I suppose we can bestow you with the gift we have brought.”

Kari’s eyes lit up. “A gift!”

The entire royal family had trekked out into the stables where Kari’s gift lay in wait. A gift that was actually not from her uncle or father. 

A crowd of people was gathered in awe at the gift. For many this was a new creature for others it was a memory of the past for there had been many in Asgard until they went extinct. They waited to hear how the creature had ended up here.

“Alfheim has gifted one of their precious unicorns to the firstborn princess of Asgard.”

Kari gasped seeing the white unicorn that stood as a stark contrast to the surrounding horses. The unicorn’s distinct horn was incredibly long and shiny, when the light caught it there seemed to be an iridescent shine like opal or pearl. The mane was hard to describe in one word. It was white but somewhere in between, it seemed to give a hint of blue shine. One thing was for sure, the mane was long and silky in the way each strand fell perfectly back in place. 

“Is it really for me?” She held her father’s hand tight with giddiness. 

Loki was not fond of the idea of his daughter riding but had to admit defeat at the happiness she was radiating. “If you promise to behave and take lessons before attempting to ride him-” 

“Him, hmmm...” The young girl tapped her chin in her pursuit of a suitable name for her beautiful new companion. Her hand slipped out of her father’s to approach the magical looking creature. That is how she was able to see the sporadic deep blue streaks of hair that were outnumbered by the white. “Azure,” she spoke mostly to herself yet to the unicorn. “Did you know there are hundreds of words for the color blue. There are many languages and dialects each with their own word.” Her hand gently ran through the ends of his mane, the only part she could reach. “You look more like an Azure.”

“What a lovely name my dear,” Frigga beamed seeing how her spirit had been lifted after being reprimanded by Odin.

“Yes, but what good is a horse you can not ride.” Thor, the ever fun-loving uncle that he was, went against his brother’s wishes and lifted his niece up onto the unicorn’s back.

“It is not your ordinary horse you oaf!” Loki scolded. His brother knew not of a unicorn’s differing mannerisms and personalities to horses. They were far more gentle creatures with the temper of a bull and the charge of a rhino only far more dangerous with that sharp horn of theirs. 

Kari was fighting with her urge to go along with her uncle or listen to her father’s demand for her to get off.

“Come now brother, nothing will happen. Let our young princess have some fun, Odin knows you did when you were younger.” With that Thor mounted Azure keeping his niece safely between his arms as he took the reigns. 

To Loki’s surprise, Azure listened to Thor entertaining them with a steady gallop.

Odin’s lips seemed to curl up into a brief smile that only Frigga caught before he retired back into the palace.  She brought her hand onto her son’s shoulder assuring him there was no harm.

Loki’s worries were only put to rest by Kari’s laughter. His daughter’s quick liking to the animal reminded him of you.

Loki smirked using your lack of agility to his advantage as he stole your current interest right out of your hands. He held the book above your reach to examine it. “What has my love so interested in Alfheim?”

Your brow furrowed in discontent, “It is none of your concern-”

“If you wish to visit you only need say so.”

The book was handed back to you allowing you something to grasp while you remind him of your situation. “You already know that is impossible when all of Asgard is watching us.”

You had married Loki only a few months ago and were determined to do everything in your power to earn your place. There were still too many who did not acknowledge your marriage to Loki simply because they thought Thor should be first to marry. 

“You worry too much.”

“Do I?”

Loki nodded, “Now tell me why Alfheim?”

“Unicorns.”

“Unicorns,” Loki eyed you with skepticism. “A realm known for its magical knowledge, nature, music... and you simply want to see a horned horse?”

You nodded enthusiastically. “Unicorns are said to be magical creatures. The alicorn being the source of their magical and medicinal properties.”

Loki recalled watching you flip through books as you animatedly recounted your research on the rare creature. He could only imagine you would smile just as brightly upon the unicorn’s arrival.

Kari interrupted his thoughts when she came running to him. “Did you see me?”

“You were wonderful my little one.”

Although his lips were curled into a smile Kari could easily read her father. There was a certain look in his eyes, darkness, whenever he became saddened by the thought of you.

“I love you Daddy,” these four words were her magical tool against her father’s dark thoughts. She need only say it once for him to come back to his senses.

Loki truly smiled now, wonderfully surprised by his daughter’s sentiment. “I love you too.”

The young girl wondered if someday she could take her father’s pain away. She wanted him to be the fun mischievous person everyone always recalled in their stories of times before she was born. 

That night Kari would not go to bed no matter how many times her nursemaid tried to coax her. She relentlessly went on about waiting for her father to be done so he could tuck her in like when she was younger.

“Princess your father is very busy-”

“I can wait.”

“Please princess have mercy on me. Your father will be very displeased with me if I do not complete my tasks.” 

Kari had seen many nursemaids come and go throughout her short years. Each one having been replaced after Loki saw they were not fit to uphold his standards or if one got too attached to her. 

He did not wish for anyone to play the role of mother to Kari. His daughter already had a mother. 

“That is not my problem,” Kari crossed her arms over her chest standing firm. “I will do as I please until my father retires for the night.”

The nursemaid sighed unable to do anything but wait to be reprimanded and perhaps sent to another noble family to care for their children. 

Hours later Loki had yet to retire. 

Kari sleepily hung onto hope for a bit longer before going across the hall to his rooms in search of him. She pushed the heavy door to gain entrance into the silent chambers. 

She knew if she would just call out to him he would appear before her but this time around she was curious to know why he had not come to see her. That’s when she heard a muffled sound coming from his study, the door slightly ajar.

Loki sat back in his chair, a chalice of mulled wine in his hand while he faced the farthest wall where a portrait of you hung as the only decoration. It was commissioned post-mortem when he realized there were no portraits of only you. 

He concentrated greatly needing more time than usual to picture you in all your glory. Then in a second, you were standing before him in golden shine. It was an illusion he had created of you.

“It’s getting harder-” A knot in his throat stopped him mid-sentence. The thought of possibly forgetting you was more than he could handle. “Why can’t I summon you at will?”

The illusion of you stood still flickering slightly when he took a drink.

Lately, he could only remember you in your last moments of life. He found himself forgetting the finer details of your appearance and personality.

“I forget my love... did you like postmodern romanticism or was it transcendentalism?”

He took another drink and yet again you flickered.

Loki stared at the illusion he had made, judging the appearance. He always remembered that pale green dress you wore when he first noticed you. It fit you well, hugged all the right places and complimented your lustrous skin. Your hair and your face- he gripped the chalice trying to recall the color and feel.

The image that came to mind was much to generic for his liking... just like the portrait.

He stood up approaching the illusion and looked up at the portrait. 

“Sure it is beautiful,” he admitted. It resembled you but was it truly you. “No one can ever accurately capture you, my love.”

Kari’s eyes teared up when she heard how hard it was getting for her father to speak.

“And your voice...” 

“Loki,” the illusion called to him in your voice- or at least what he thought was your voice. “Loki, my love.”

“How I wish to hear it.” A tear finally found its way down Loki’s cheek as he resigned himself to the fact that even he couldn’t reproduce the sweet sound of your voice.

In his dreams, he heard it but it was always followed by your cries of pain.

“I love you Loki,” the illusion smiled with a tilt of its head in the same way you would every time you playfully professed your love to him.

When the chalice was empty Loki picked up the bottle and drank directly from it. The illusion flickered continuously until he had downed the entirety of it.

Kari stepped into the study now fully in tears from what she was seeing.

“Daddy...”

Loki quickly turned to see his daughter cautiously approaching him. “Kari-” he wanted to reprimand her for not being in bed but found it difficult when she was sorrowfully staring at his illusion of you.

Up until now, he had been careful not to do this in front of her. He knew it would be too much of an emotional trigger. He could hardly handle it himself. When he made a gesture to be rid of it Kari stopped him.

“Wait-” Her small hands reached out to him. Now it was she who compared the illusion to the portrait above. All she had ever seen was that portrait but never imagined her mother’s voice.

“C-can she-” she was almost afraid to ask. As if her father would deny her request. “Can she say my name?”

Loki inhaled sharply. His daughter’s request was difficult but not impossible.

“Kari~” the illusion called out effectively rendering the little girl motionless. This time Loki managed to envision your joyous expression upon his return from long trips. He had the illusion give a similar smile and say, “I love you Kari.”

“I love you too Mommy-”

The little girl’s lips trembled unable to stop herself from crying profusely. She had never met this woman yet she felt so strongly about her.

His daughter’s tears were sobering. Loki put down the bottle he had so viciously been gripping onto. He knelt down in front of his young daughter, the illusion now vanishing into nothing but golden specs of light. 

“Kari-”

"Daddy...” Kari’s small arms wrapped around her father as she continued to cry into his chest.

Loki held her silently. There was nothing he could say that would make her feel better. For years he had tried finding comfort from the neverending pain he felt after your loss. But nothing could ever fill the void you left behind.

At one point he damned you for making him fall in love with you. He damned the empty promises of forever. You dared entice him with the picture of eternal love and a family to cherish and call his own only to leave him behind.

But in the end, he knew it was all worth it. 

Loving you gave his life new meaning. 

Before you, he never imagined himself as a father and now he couldn’t imagine a life without his precious daughter. 

Kari found comfort in her father’s embrace although she didn’t care too much for the smell of alcohol on him. The gentle caress of her hair and the slight pressure atop her head of his lips seemed to coax her out of the mournful sorrow she was suddenly hurled into. 

Slowly the tears began to dry up and she was able to find her voice again.

“Daddy... Do you think- do you think she would have loved me?”

“She loved you before you were even born.”

“Really?” Kari looked up with swollen eyes and a runny nose.

Loki nodded, “She couldn’t wait to meet you.” 

He recalled your constant lack of interest in him as you worried over your growing belly.

“Do you think this is normal?” 

You continued to inspect your reflection in the mirror as you stood in front of it with only a towel wrapped around you. It had become a regular occurrence after your bath. Your hands were on your protruding belly but your eyes were on Loki as he approached you from behind.

Loki placed his hands on top of yours not really focusing on your question but on the way you had completely let your guard down. His lips found your bare shoulder to be much more important. 

“I doubt there is something I know that you do not my lovely wife.” His lips lightly trailed kisses up along your neck as he continued to whisper loving words into your ear. “But I do know I can hardly keep my hands off you when you are this enticing.”

“Forever the silver-tongued prince...”

“Forever the beautiful vixen who seduced this prince.”

You laughed, “Seriously Loki... do you think she is alright?”

“Do not worry, everything will be fine.”

"Even now she loves you...” 

“Really?” He nodded in affirmation but Kari was still unconvinced. 

Loki was always known for his lies but he dare not deceive his own daughter. You were a mother who gave her own life for her daughter. Although he couldn’t tell her this now, in the future she would know it.

She would know how you protected her.

She would know how much you loved her...how much you loved them.

She would know of your loving sacrifice.

“Trust me little one.”

-end-

A/N: Sorry for the long unexplained hiatus. In the meantime, I hope you accept this humble offering as an apology for my absence.

[daybreak-academy-fanfic]

Daybreak Academy: Chapter 29

The Formal: Bring The Boys Out

Summary: In which Skuld becomes Anora’s fairy godmother and Strelitzia tries to gather her courage. Word Count: 2,658 First | Previous | Next ☆ ⚬ ☆ ⚬ ☆ ⚬ ☆ ⚬ ☆ ⚬ ☆ ⚬ ☆ ⚬ ☆ ⚬ ☆

Anora had severely underestimated her anxiety for tonight. It took her ten whole minutes to put her dress on- too fearful of actually putting it on for some reason. She didn't have any mirrors in her room either. Of course, looking at herself in the dress might have ramped up that anxiety to another level, so maybe it was for the best.

Hearing a knock on her door almost made Anora jump out of her skin. Cautious for some reason, Anora went to her door and opened it up a hair to see who was on the other side. She sighed in realizing that it was only Skuld. The nervous girl let in the other, quick to notice that Skuld was carrying a rather large make up case in her hand. As Anora looked over Skuld, Skuld looked around Anora's room in mild judgment.

Skuld was already dressed for the formal; wearing a dark gray knee-length lace dress with a chiffon overlay that only reached mid torso, and covered half of her arm. She was even wearing a pair of simple black high heels, a pair of dangling earrings with a single ruby at the end, and her hair had been pulled back into a complicated looking french braid.

“Why is your room so… small?” Skuld wondered. “You barely have room to walk around in here.”

Anora shrugged- her room was fine to her. She had room for what she needed, which really wasn't that much.

“You can always petition to have a larger room next year,” Skuld went on, placing her make up case on Anora's desk. “But only up to the seventh floor, since you'll be going into Seventh Year classes.”

That was when Skuld turned around to actually look at Anora. For a moment, the older girl blinked, as if she didn't recognize Anora, before quickly shaking her head.

“Oh good, you're already dressed.” Skuld noted with a little wave of her hand. But then she looked at Anora's hair and grimaced. “Please tell me you were going to do something with your hair, though? I know it's short, but you have to have at least one nice headband to keep back the strays.”

Taking a step back, as the idea never occurred to her, Anora shuffled around her room and around Skuld to get to one of the drawers in her desk. Eventually she withdrew a headband and showed it to Skuld; it was a simple metal headband, the same one Anora had worn to the dress shop a week back. To her disappointment, Skuld sighed.

“You're not going to make this easy for me, are you?” the oldest murmured under her breath. She then looked up at Anora to say, “Where's your hairbrush? If you want to wear that headband, I can put it in for you.”

Anora gave a small nod before getting her hairbrush. She thought Skuld would have her sit, but she didn't; instead Skuld brushed out Anora hair, expertly placed the headband in the middle of Anora head. Skuld then braided part of Anora's hair around the metal, leaving only the blue flower visible and giving the illusion that it was hung freely in Anora's hair.

“That'll do.” Skuld finally permitted. “Now, you actually do need to sit while I do your make up. You won't move around as much if you do.”

With that, she motioned for Anora to sit at the desk chair. Not sure if she really had a choice, Anora did as instructed and helplessly watched as Skuld started to get out her materials.

“I'll do your make up first before I do mine,” Skuld told her. “You might not guess it, but I was a pageant kid before I attended Daybreak. I can do my own make up blindfolded.”

That would actually explain a lot… Anora thought to herself, but didn't voice out loud.

“Close your eyes for me,” Skuld then instructed, “And don't move an inch- smokey eye is an art all its own.”

Sitting a bit straighter in the chair, Anora did as she was told. Skuld immediately began to work without hesitation. After five minutes, Anora wanted to fidget, but if she tried Skuld would remind her to stay still. Every now and again, Skuld would tell Anora to smile real wide or to open her eye for a moment so she could apply the mascara. Anora didn't know how long Skuld had trapped her in that chair, but it seemed to take years.

“There.” Skuld finally decided as she took a step back from her handiwork. Now seeing Anora from a further distance, Skuld's jaw almost dropped.

“O-oh wow.” she stammered. “Anora… You… you look so beautiful.”

The confused glare she got made her realize that Anora didn't know what she looked like. Giving a small snap of her fingers, Skuld went to get a hand mirror she had placed on Anora's desk earlier. She gave Anora the mirror and took another step back to admire her handiwork.

“No one at the dance is going to recognize you.” Skuld remarked, almost wondering to herself if she was part fairy godmother.

Anora gave an absent nod- the girl in the hand mirror nodding back. Apparently, not even Anora could recognize herself. Skuld bit her lower lip in thought as she looked Anora over again.

“Ephemer better thank me for this.” she said to herself, just loud enough for Anora to hear. But the younger of the two didn't quite register the words- the girl in the mirror was looking so overwhelmed that her eyes were glistening with tears.

. . .

“Looking sharp, Ven!” Ephemer beamed the moment he saw the young Leopardus student. Almost immediately, Ventus's cheeks started to flush a light pink.

“I think I used too much hair gel.” he admitted, running his hand through his slicked back hair. Now that he mentioned it, Ephemer noted that his golden yellow hair was a bit darker than usual. “Every time I touch it, it makes a sound like crunching leaves.”

Not meaning to be rude, Ephemer gave a small snort of amusement. “I just used enough to manage what I've got.” he admitted. “My fluffy hair is why Ava adopted me, after all!”

Ventus's face scrunched into one of confusion. One of these days, he'll ask for the full details on Ephemer and Ava's story, but for now there were other things to worry about.

“We were going to meet the girls at the Vulpes dorms, right?” he asked.

“You bet.” Ephemer agreed with a nod- for some reason he had decided to fuss with his cuffs before looking up at Ven. “What time is it? We should start heading that way now.”

“6:45, I think.” came the immediate answer before the young boy actually looked down at his watch. “Well, just about anyway.” he then affirmed. “6:41 as of five seconds ago. Now six seconds, eight, nine...”

“You nervous?” Ephemer teased, clapping his hand on top of Ventus's shoulder. The younger boy jumped in surprise, then looked up at the older boy with a guilty expression.

“Is it obvious?” he then asked as he threw a hand behind his head. Ephemer laughed.

“They're still our friends, Ven.” Ephemer reminded him like a big brother would remind a brother of the house rules. “It doesn't matter what the girls look like, they're still the uptight scholar and manic pixie dream girl we've always known!”

Ventus put on a light, still rather nervous, smile as he agreed with small, “Right.” as the two started to head to the Vulpes dorms.

Once the boys got to the Vulpes girls' dorms, it became quickly apparent that they would not be meeting the girls at the door. A lot of students were going in and out of the dorms at this point. Girls waiting for their friends, some waiting for their dates, and other girls making a mad dash back into the dorms because they forgot something. Ephemer made the smart decision to text Skuld that they had arrived, and from there, all the boys could do was wait.

They didn't have to wait long- coming out of the dorms five minutes later was Anora and Skuld. At this point, they were too far away to get a good look at them, but it was more than obvious that Skuld was making last minute preparations on Anora. Even while walking, Skuld was fussing over Anora's hair like a disapproving mother. As the two got closer, both Ven and Ephemer could even hear Skuld fuss over Anora.

As the girls got closer, a sudden jolt ran through the boys' bodies when they were able to get a better look at them. To Ephemer, Skuld looked more like a mother of the bride, with Anora being that very bride- or maybe a princess with her flowing dress and flower headband. Ventus, on the other hand, simply wasn't used to girls being fully dressed up- the only other girl he knew refused to wear anything fancier than a pencil skirt and blouse. (Which, honestly, didn't make his friend looking any flattering in the slightest.) So when he saw Skuld and Anora dressed up, all niceties were lost on young Ventus in awe.

“They look beautiful.” the boy gawked in wonder.

Ephemer almost couldn't say a word as he looked Anora up and down. A lump in his throat almost prevented him from letting out a rasping and slow, “She is.” in agreement.

“Now it should stay.” Skuld sighed as she finished messing with Anora, just as the two were in arm's length of the boys. Anora gave a weak smile as she absently tried to touch her head.

“Don't touch it!” Skuld hissed, almost smacking Anora's hand had the girl not flinched at Skuld's shrill voice. Giving a stiff nod, Skuld then turned her attention to the boys. The smirk she gained was almost malicious.

“You two look like you've seen a ghost!” Skuld immediately teased. She turned to Ephemer and let out a bemused snort. “You alright there, Ephemer?”

“O-of course I am!” the older boy quickly exclaimed, making a disgusted grimace. “Why wouldn't I be?”

Curious, Ventus looked over at him and pointed at his mouth. “Dude, you're drooling.” the youngest bluntly pointed out.

“What?!” he quickly exclaimed as he went to wipe his mouth. Much to his chagrin, everyone laughed at him. As he tried to recover, he dully told them, “Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up. Just make fun of the guy who keeps his heart on his sleeve, huh?”

But he did steal another look at Anora- and he'd be damned if he didn't actually feel himself drool this time. This was going to be one heck of a night…

. . .

Strelitzia had purposely requested for Lauriam to pick her up late. She had only guessed that Anora and her friends would go to the formal before it was set to start, and she had been right on the mark. It was also a very horrible idea; she couldn't see very well from the window, but Anora looked stunning in the sunset with her prom dress on. It was a bit obvious that she wasn't comfortable wearing the dress- but once she and her friends started joking, Anora's disposition relaxed quite a bit. Strelitzia felt her heart melt.

I love her, I love her, I love her…

The girl shook her head as she tried to clear her thoughts. Lauriam was going to be picking her up soon, and she wasn't even wearing her dress yet. Strelitzia looked over at the dress she had laid out on her bed. It was floor length, the skirt made almost completely out of tulle. The bodice boasted an illusion sweetheart neckline with cap sleeves, all decorated in lace. The lace on the bodice tapered off at the hip like the leaves of a fern bush. Lace also adorned the bottom of the dress, also making abstract flower-like patterns.

Strelitzia gently brushed a finger over the lace. This dress had been her mother's a long time ago- she had managed to dig it up while sorting through her own clothes some time back. The dress was originally white, but with the fading and yellowing lace, Strelitzia had found someone who could dye to a light orange. It was still a very beautiful dress; one that Strelitzia swore on her life that she'd never get rid of.

And now she was going to wear it to formal. And talk to Anora face to face in it. And maybe even cry in it for good measure.

Letting out a small sigh, Strelitzia started to get ready for the formal. She put the dress on with care, then she started to twist and braid her hair into a high bun. Strelitzia was never one to put on too much make up or wearing dark, gaudy colors, so most of her make up ended up light and only added some slight color to her cheeks, nose, and eyelids. She happened to finish just as Lauriam sent her text saying that he had arrived at the dorms.

She would have been out sooner had she not lingered at her door for a good five minutes. Her hand shook as it hovered over the door knob. Maybe she could tell Lauriam that she didn't want to go to the formal anymore? Would he even believe her? She doubted it. In a half thought, half murmur, she said to herself, “May my heart be my guiding key.” before finally opening her door.

Lauriam was far too patient to be her brother. Especially when the cranky Elrena was bickering about something or another right into Lauriam's ear. It took Strelitzia a moment to realize that Elrena was holding a small disposable camera; of course Lauriam would want pictures. Lauriam offered Elrena small smiles of mock sympathy until he noticed his sister walking up to them.

Almost instantly, Lauriam's eyes started to slowly widen as he watched Strelitzia.

“You didn't tell me you were going to wear one of Mother's dresses.” he softly said once she was close enough. Strelitzia blushed.

“I wanted it to be a surprise.” she admitted.

“Color me surprised, then.”

Elrena only sneered in disinterest. “If you two idiots are done blabbing, can you squeeze together so I can take this stupid photo?”

“We wouldn't still be babbling if you had decided to go to the formal too.” Lauriam teasingly reminded her.

Elrena gave an undignified 'pfft' in retort. “I'd rather get carded at a bar in town.” she even informed them. “Now smile and say cheese.”

The two siblings looked at each other, shared a smile, then turned to Elrena before declaring brightly, “Cheese!”

With the obligatory pictures out of the way, the two siblings made their way to the gym. Lauriam was less than pleased with this year's theme.

“They really wanted to go for the whole Under the Sea shtick, huh?” Lauriam dully noted.

“Maybe it's easier?” Strelitzia thoughtfully mused.

“But this is the spring formal.” he then grumbled. “It wouldn't hurt to have some flowers here and there.”

Strelitzia laughed at her brother before she could stop herself. She happened to look around the rest of the gym and was quick to notice Anora in the crowd. Her blood ran cold while her heart simultaneously started to race. Lauriam, who was not shy to when his sister would clam up, gave her a curious tilt of his head. He didn't look to see who he was looking at; instead he gave her a small pat on the back.

“Remember to talk to her tonight.” he softly reminded her.

“I will.” Strelitzia promised. “Just… remind me every other song or something. Okay?”

Once more proving that he was the best brother in the world, Lauriam smiled even brighter at Strelitzia before agreeing with a firm, “Promise.”