#just so perfectly meant for each other the way their stories are written

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Any tips for writing allegorical characters?

As with any character, it is helpful to consider some general character development techniques that most writers follow. This would likely give depth to your characters and allow your readers to connect with them more.

Allegorical Characters - are meant to represent something larger than themselves in order to make a point.

The character in question may be a perfectly well-rounded and very much individualized character, but he is so closely linked to a certain concept, that he is often used allegorically as a way of talking about that concept (e.g. Superman and idealism).

Example: Godzilla himself started in Godzilla (1954) as an allegorical character representing the Atomic Bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki and the destruction caused.

If all of the characters in the work are written this way, then you might just have a full-blown Allegory on your hands.

Symbolic & Personification Allegory

There are essentially two different ways to tell an allegorical story.

One is by using symbolic allegory:

To write your allegorical character here, give them a recognizable identity or mundane utility within the story but also represents a larger concept.

Example: Dante uses this type in “The Divine Comedy.”

The characters of Beatrice and Virgil represent the concepts of divine revelation and human reason, respectively, but they also represent real people who actually lived.

The other type is personification allegory:

To write your allegorical character here, give them no identity apart from the concept they are supposed to represent.

Example: “Everyman,” which is a morality play from the 15th century, is an example of this type in which the characters are given names such as Beauty, Death, Knowledge, and Strength.

5 Tips for Using Allegory in Writing

Think of an important idea you want to share with your reader. It should be something large and complex, and something that relates to the society you live in on a large scale.

Once you’ve decided on a topic, plan out your allegory. Think of how you will translate these real-world ideas into fictional scenes and characters. Carefully assign characters: animals are common, as in Aesop’s Fables and Animal Farm, but there is no rule about what sort of characters to use.

Whatever you choose, remember that your audience will be trying to figure out who each character represents in real life, so try not to confuse them with unrelated characters whose purpose is not clear.

Be sure to let your reader know how to read between the lines. You will need to leave clues without over-explaining your message. Don’t be so subtle that the readers will miss the point of the allegory.

The surface story must stand on its own. While the underlying message can be a bit abstract, this isn’t an essay or a speech. The top layer must still make sense and be intriguing in its own right.

Sources: 1 2 3 ⚜ Writing Notes & References

If this inspires your writing in any way, do tag me, or send me a link. I would love to read your work!

[ghost-bison]

Doctor Who: 1x08 The Satan Pit (2006) / 60th anniversary special 2/3 Wild Blue Yonder (2023)

I frankly love that parallel. One scene taken out of each of the two RTD eras.

First there's the colour palettes. You can see that they're polar opposites. RTD era1 was warm all the time as talked about in this post (which I love dearly, I keep referencing it in my posts), and then we have RTD era2, which has a more modern-looking, colder palette for science fiction.

But it's also a directing choice for the mood I think, cause on the one hand, we have Rose who, we all know, would even give up on seeing her mum again if it meant she got to spend the rest of her life with the Doctor (quite like Donna back in series 4 actually, who was very prompt to say she was going to travel with Ten forever). On the other hand we have Donna in 2023 who's now got a daughter and a husband and who hadn't even planned on doing a trip with the Doctor in the first place, let alone at the edge of the universe. I mean, they were just supposed to go see Wilfred! On one side we have Ten who's slowly recovering from the trauma of the Time War and falling in love for the first time in a while and re-learning that he deserves to be loved, too. On the other side we have Fourteen who, just as Donna put it, is "staggering", and as Fifteen said, is "running on fumes". He's got FOUR regenerations worth of trauma on Ten who was already struggling as it was with one (since the Time War I mean. Maybe two if we count Nine, cause who knows what he's been through between his regeneration and meeting Rose). Fourteen went through losing Rose, Donna, Amy, Rory, River, Clara, Bill, and he went through Pandorica, billions of years imprisoned by the Time Lords in his own personal hell, finding out about the Timeless Child, etc... and now, on top of everything, he's got to deal face to face with the guilt of what he did to Donna as she's been given back to him. Anyway, it's dark, when you think about it. No wonder the colours are so much colder in Wild Blue Yonder.

Then there's the music. In The Satan Pit, the soundtrack, The Impossible Planet, has a mystical quality to it. It's slightly creepy (I mean, it IS an episode about Satan), but it's mostly mysterious. Ten and Rose are only 500 years away from home. But in Wild Blue Yonder, Fourteen and Donna are 100 TRILLION YEARS away from home. The soundtrack from that scene, The Edge of Creation, isn't just mysterious, it's eerie and ethereal and perfectly encompasses what it would feel like to stand somewhere so impossibly alien it has become supernatural (if you can't tell I am obsessed with that track and episode lmao).

I love the contrast between Rose and Donna and the questions they ask. Rose's question is cute, she's like "I've seen it in films, is that it?", it stems from a place of curiosity, like she doesn't really realize the deep shit that they're in. She's just a kid. Whereas Donna's question, it stems from a place of dread: "Where's the light?". It almost has a "The Licked Hand" quality to it (if you don't know that story: the girl is scared, she puts her hand under the bed, her dog licks it. She goes into the bathroom, finds her dog dead in the tub, and written in its blood are the words 'humans can lick too').

Then, finally, there's the order in which things have been done: in The Satan Pit, Rose remarks they're "a long way from home". Ten takes a long look at her, and seeing that she seems a bit scared, he explains to her how long it would take to get home. In Wild Blue Yonder, Fourteen first explains to Donna how long it would take to get home, and only THEN, he takes a long look at her, and finally Donna says "that's my family, over there". It parallels Rose's sentence in the sense that they both talk about home and how far away it is, but they use different words for it with a different meaning behind. Donna is more specific on what she'll be returning to when it's over (her family), whereas Rose, who isn't as grounded as her, just says "home" (which, for her, probably just means the place she grew up). I also love the contrast between Rose's "a long way" and Donna's "over there". The first implies foreign, the second implies close enough to see. What's interesting about this bit is Donna is further away from home than Rose is, geographically speaking. But for Rose, Home is actually the Doctor, just him, so she has no problem saying she's "a long way from home" since she doesn't mean it in the same way Donna would. So for Donna, when she says "over there", it's because the Home she's talking about is closer to her heart, and she's probably trying to reassure herself that she'll see her family again (I used to do something like that when I was in primary school, I'd travel all the way back to my house in my head to kiss my parents on the cheek because I was so homesick).

So that's that I guess

[bunnyshideawayy]

i think the way male characters interact with each other over a woman says a lot about how they view said woman.

it’s clear here Rhysand is worried not only about the political ramifications but also personal ramifications Azriel’s clear LUSTING after Elain will cause.

its stated and made obvious multiple times throughout this chapter that Az is sexually attracted to Elain….and that’s it. His lust and desire and ENTITLEMENT is made so clear that Rhysand has to step in and reprimand him before it blows up in everyone’s face.

Elain is obviously infatuated with him, and Azriel is playing off of that to sleep with her and then what? he literally doesn’t know because he’s so blinded by lust and jealousy that his brothers have mates he cannot see past getting Elain naked. i believe it’s perfectly implied here he only sees Elian as a challenge, and should he ever get the chance to actually sleep with her he will no longer be equally as infatuated. He won’t even admit to himself he’s not over Mor.

I’m just pointing this out as many people seem to have skipped half of his chapter after seeing the word “arousal” and running with it. if you actually read the chapter as it is written it’s actually pretty gross to see people justifying Azriel’s behavior and mindset.

I personally don’t really care who Elain ends up with, if i wrote the story she’d stay single and living her best life baking and gardening and volunteering in the community but alas this is a romance at the end of the day. but i will not ignore clear implications from the story, Az sees her as a sexual pursuit. i can’t wait to see how the next acotar will play out and if gwyn will receive the necklace / wear it as it would prove to the readers and Elain my point was correct, hopefully not though the “OW” trope is so icky to me, but as i said it would add to my point. If Az truly liked Elain for Elain he wouldn’t back down from her or from Rhys (although this seems to be a problem for both Az and Cass) and he wouldn’t give this necklace he meant FOR* Elain to another woman on some random whim. I could go on and on but i’m so tired of seeing shippers justify and ignore this bs. Az shouldn’t be near any woman as long as he’s got this jealous and entitled mindset- Gwyn or Elain or whoever yall ship him with.

[021894s]

hihi, this is ur 🎀 anon. how are you holding upp? hope you're all well by now considering your crazy schedule with school and work🫶

i just wanted to ask if you still take written oneshot requests? if you do can you write some angst with any member. a short one is fine too. it's perfectly fine if you don't want to do it tho

all the best for twisted ties. ilysm always🫶

hi anon!! i’m doing well, the semester is almost over so i’m just pushing through!! tysm for your request! hope you enjoy🫶🏻🎀

situationship w/ heeseung (1.4k words)

it’s been five years since your friend group last came together. tonight was the rare chance to relived shared experiences and create new memories.

You remember college with a fondness tinged with the bittersweet. Back then, Heeseung was a constant in your life, a presence both comforting and exhilarating. Your relationship was an intricate dance of deep conversations under the starry night sky and laughter echoing through the dorm halls. Yet, it was never defined, always hovering on the edge of 'more'. Classes and coffee runs blurred into a montage of moments where the possibility of 'us' was a silent whisper in your every interaction. Now, as you get ready for the gathering, those memories weave through your thoughts, a tapestry of 'what-ifs' that still make your heart skip a beat.

The day Heeseung announced he was leaving for the States, the world seemed to stand still. The job offer was too good to pass up—an opportunity of a lifetime. But what did that make of the time you had spent together? You couldn't help but wonder if your heart was just another stopover on his journey to success. The laughter and shared dreams suddenly felt like echoes of a reality that was never meant to last. He packed his bags, and with every item he tucked away, a piece of your shared story was folded up with it. You were left with a hollow feeling and questions that had no answers. Was it all real? Or were you just a chapter in his life that he had closed as easily as his suitcase? The doubt crept in, a shadow over your self-worth. Was it something about you, or was it just the way of the world, pulling people in and out of your orbit, with no regard for the gravity of your heart?

As you walked into the restaurant, a mix of excitement and nervousness coursed through your veins. The chatter of your friends filled the air, but your gaze immediately locked onto Heeseung, standing at a distance. Time seemed to slow down as you took in his matured appearance, the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled. Making your way over, you greeted everyone with a warm hello, feeling Heeseung's lingering gaze on you a little longer than the rest. As he greeted you, a hint of nostalgia danced in his eyes, and you couldn't help but wonder how much had changed since you last saw each other.

As you settle into the lively conversation at the table, your friends mingle and share stories, their laughter filling the air. But amidst the cheerful chatter, you can't help but feel a sense of fluster. Every time you steal a glance across the table, you catch Heeseung's eyes fixed on you, his gaze filled with a mix of curiosity and something more. It's like a magnetic pull, drawing your attention back to him, making your heart race a little faster. The way he looks at you, it's as if he's trying to decipher the unspoken words between you, the emotions that still linger from your shared history. It's both thrilling and nerve-wracking, leaving you with a delightful sense of anticipation and a touch of uncertainty.

The group's laughter spills out into the cool night air as you all decide to make a quick jaunt to the nearby convenience store. The city lights cast a gentle glow on the streets, creating a cozy atmosphere for the post-dinner stroll.

Heeseung falls into step beside you, naturally creating a space away from the others, a quiet bubble amidst the friendly commotion. You can feel the warmth radiating from him, his presence both comforting and unsettling in its familiarity.

He breaks the silence first, his voice casual but with an undercurrent of genuine interest, "So, how have you been? What's new with you?"

You glance over, meeting his eyes, and there's a moment where the world seems to pause. "I've been good, busy with work and all," you start, your voice a mix of excitement and calm. "I picked up some new hobbies, got into gardening. There's something about watching things grow... It's fulfilling, you know?" You chuckle softly, turning the conversation back to him, "What about you? How are things going at your job?”

Heeseung's eyes light up as he begins to share about his marketing job. His voice is filled with enthusiasm and a sense of fulfillment as he explains how rewarding it is to be back home.

"You won't believe how amazing it feels to be back here in Korea," he says with a wide smile. "Working in marketing has been such a journey. I get to be a part of creating campaigns that connect with people, that make a difference. It's incredible to see the impact we can have on the market and the lives of our customers. Plus, being surrounded by the vibrant energy of Seoul every day... it's truly inspiring."

Heeseung's passion shines through his words, and you can't help but feel a sense of admiration for his dedication and love for his work. It's clear that he has found his calling, and his excitement is contagious. As you listen, you can't help but feel a renewed sense of motivation and curiosity about your own path.

“it’s nice seeing you so passionate about something. you were always such a hard worker. i’d knew it pay off eventually” you tell him.You can't help but smile as memories of your shared past resurface. The late-night study sessions, the determination in Heeseung's eyes as he pursued his goals—it all feels like it was just yesterday. It's heartwarming to see how far he's come and how his dedication has paid off.

Heeseung begins speaking after a moment of silence, his voice carries a mix of vulnerability and sincerity. "Listen," he starts, his tone gentle yet filled with regret. "I've been doing a lot of thinking lately, and I wanted to talk about our situation. I want to apologize for not ending things properly between us."

You can sense the weight of his words, and a rush of emotions floods your thoughts. Memories of the past resurface, moments shared and left unresolved. It's a bittersweet realization that he's acknowledging the unfinished chapter between you. Heeseung continues, his voice filled with sincerity, "I should have been more honest and communicative about my feelings. I never wanted to hurt you, and I'm truly sorry if I did. You deserve closure, and I want to make things right."

His admission takes you by surprise, but you appreciate his willingness to address the past. It opens up an opportunity for healing and understanding, a chance to move forward with a sense of closure.You take a deep breath, feeling a mix of emotions, and respond, "Don't be sorry, it's not like we were a couple or anything," you say, trying to keep the mood light, but there's a sharp edge to your words that you didn't intend.

Heeseung's expression changes, a look of hurt flashing across his face. He quickly gathers himself and says, "I know we never put a label on it, but my feelings for you were real. I might have been terrible at expressing them, but that doesn't mean they weren't there. I cared about you a lot, and I still do." You can tell by the earnestness in his voice that he's being genuine, and it makes you reconsider the complexity of your past relationship. It's a lot to take in, and you find yourself at a loss for words, realizing that things were more serious for him than you thought.

", it was hard when you left so abruptly ," you admit, your voice filled with a mix of vulnerability and honesty. "I felt confused and hurt, and it took me a while to process everything."

Heeseung's eyes soften as he listens to your words, and he takes a deep breath before responding, "I'm truly sorry for the pain I caused you. I never wanted to hurt you, and Ive spend everyday for the past five years regretting how i treated you. if you’ll let me i want make it up to you. His sincere apology touches your heart, and you can see the genuine remorse in his eyes. It's clear that he genuinely wants to make amends and rebuild the trust that was lost.

You take a moment to gather your thoughts, appreciating his willingness to make things right. With a soft smile, you respond, "i appreciate your apology heeseung.” he gives you that perfect smile that you’ve been longing for all this time. “let’s start over” he offers you his hand “i’m lee heeseung”. you let out a chuckle at his antics “y/n l/n, nice to meet you heeseung”.

[crazylittlejester]

Fic Master List

redoing this lmao. almost all of these are Warriors centric fics, and if he ain’t the MAIN focus, he’s at least like second. Click titles for the links

Last updated: August 20th

Series:

1. You’re A Part Of Me- [Description] A bunch of fics that focus on Time/Mask and Wars both during the War of Eras and after it. The first fifteen fics or so in this series are pretty unconnected and can be read in any order. They reference each other in small ways but not in any way that would be significant. After part 15, the fics get a little more connected but for the most part can still be read in any order!

Works in this series: Misunderstandings, Melody, Regrets and Regrowth, Overwhelmed, Poisoned (?), Sick Day, Safe, Roots, The Scarf, Recovery, The Medic, Sugar, An Adventure Interrupted, A Moment of Peace, Spilled Secrets, The Following Dusk, Warriors vs. The Sinking Feeling That Time Is Up To No Good, Lost Bets and Cat Sweaters, Melancholy, Drowned & Frozen, Fever, Memento Mori, Asking For Help, Respect, Fragments

2. Fierce Hero 9- [Description] The Big Hero 6 AU no one asked for

Main Story: Fierce Hero 9

Bonus Chapters: Pancakes and Mourning, Beginnings, The Other Universe, Secrets and Sick Days, The Adventures of Mask and Wolfie

3. Linked Through the Centuries- [Description] A bunch of different Links find themselves in a strange land, armed with only one of the things they remember having last in their possession. They need to team up together and figure out why they were sent there, what the threat is, and locate the Hero of Time before it’s too late (this is my own Links Meet AU!)

4. The Midnight Hours- [Description] What takes place between Sunset 14 and Dawn 1 (written before the Dawn arc was finished)

Works in this series: The Midnight Hours, The Following Dusk

5. Big Brother Wars- [Description] Literally just a collection of fics I’ve written of Warriors being a good big brother to various members of the chain :)

Works in this series: Dog Days, Bad Dreams Better Future, Sky’s Terrible Day, Misconceptions, Closer, Really It’s Just A Scratch

Multi Chapter Fics:

Of Officers and Stuffed Elephants- Summary: Being an officer at Castle Town Police Department meant that each day was full of surprises, but one specific call comes in one day that completely changes Wars’s life

The Longest Battle- (written with @hero-of-the-wolf) Summary: After a difficult journey during the day full of obstacles and hard battles, Time finds himself trapped repeating the same battle over and over again. He has no choice, if he wants to save his brothers. However every time he uses his ocarina to reverse fate, he finds the price of saving his lost companion is the life of another.

A Mortifying Change of Plans (or Twilight’s Worst Nightmare: A Party)- Summary: Twilight was perfectly comfortable with his idea of how the evening would go: he could just stand there in a corner, watching the princess and his brothers from afar. He wasn’t a huge fan of social events, but this was easy enough. He could do it. Just as long as no body changed his plan. He would be fine. He could do this…

Random Fics that don’t really connect to anything else:

Trapped- Summary: Legend and Warriors get stuck in a tight room in a dungeon and have to work together to get out of it

(You Aren’t) Selfish- Summary: Time’s fine. Really, he is. Because he has no other choice. With everything all the younger heroes around him are going through, one of them has to be okay enough to support the others, and it’s going to be him.

The Captain, The Sailor, and Some Oranges- Summary: Warriors takes Wind out scouting him because the little sailor found himself unable to sit still and he needed an outlet for his energy. It’s a good thing Wars wasn’t alone, his blood sugar dips too low and he didn’t bring himself any snacks

Slept In- Summary: Warriors was so tired, surely sleeping in and enjoying just laying in his bed would have absolutely no consequences? SURELY he could sleep in and nothing would happen because of it, just this once? Right? (or: Mask abuses being unsupervised)

Faded Sun- Summary: Nightmares weren’t an uncommon occurrence in the life of a hero. However, Time didn’t anticipate how rattled he would be after being forced to face the reality of how badly war had impacted someone he cares so much about. (or: Time, with his adult eyes and current understanding of life, sees Warriors from the end of the War of Eras and is able to for the first time really see just how different he was and just how far he’s come in the past few years)

(The) Trouble with Words- Summary: Mask once again finds himself in a position where his actions might have severe consequences for Captain Link, and he feels incredibly guilty for the trouble he causes his brother. However… in his defense… the guy deserved it.

Apples or Oranges- Summary: Staying in Hateno was meant to be a break for them: a chance to shop and explore the village, a chance to catch up on much needed sleep, a chance to spend time with a brother. But of course Warriors simply cannot catch a break, and this time it’s all Time’s fault, the little shit. Well… and the fault of a seemingly innocent apple tree.

Close Call- Summary: The life of a hero is a dangerous one, and when facing danger every day, it’s easy to forget how fast things can go wrong. After almost losing Warriors, Time has to really take a minute to assure himself the captain is okay

Fireworks- Summary: Warriors doesn’t like fireworks very much at all

A Quiet Night- Summary: Warriors tries his best not to let the chain see how badly the war and everything that happened still effects them, and his plan of sneaking off to cry in the woods had been working pretty well for a decently long time. But Legend hears him while up on watch, and he’s not just going to leave Warriors to cry alone

A Helping Paw- Summary: Warriors has been acting weird ever since Twilight was injured, and Twilight is going to do anything he can to try to get his brother to loosen up, even if he accidentally hurts himself in the process

Pirates and Ice Cream- Summary: Twilight is having a miserable awful time in his senior year of high school, he just has to make it through the end so he can join his brother at college. Although it appears Warriors isn’t having the best time either

Scary Dog Privilege- Summary: After a long day, Twilight and Warriors sneak out to the tavern, and when two strangers don't seem to get the hint and leave Warriors alone, making the captain visibly uncomfortable, Twilight steps in to put them in their place

Flour and Flowers- Summary: It wasn’t often the group got a break from everything. At the ranch, Time takes an opportunity to show his wife and the boys how much he loves them all by doing something nice for them and cooking them breakfast by himself. Or at least he PLANNED to do it by himself

Boy’s Night- Summary: After a really long day, Sky kicks out Twilight, Warriors, and Time because they won’t stop hovering, and forces them to take a break. They find themselves in a bar, and Warriors simply CANNOT believe how oblivious Time is to what goes on around him. or Time cannot for the life of him read when people are hitting on him because it simply never occurred to him that was a thing that could happen, and Warriors has made it his personal duty to watch his brother’s back

2 a.m. Shenanigans- Summary: Twilight had been resting all day and he was starting to get bored. Problem is, Wild is dead asleep on top of him and he can’t move. Warriors and Sky rescue him from where he’s stuck, and the three of them take time to relax and unwind by running around outside in the dead of night

Star Light, Star Bright, First Star I See Tonight- Summary: He hadn’t realized the other heroes were slowly becoming family… He hadn’t realized when he’d started to view them as brothers. or: Warriors got bored on watch and the Thought Spiral caught up to him, and he started thinking about his family, and he comes to the realization the heroes around him have started to make him feel safe again

if a single one of these links doesn’t work or if there’s one single mistake in here somewhere i WILL explode-

[foxymoxynoona]

To Kill A King (Chapter 16)

Banner and linebreaks by the talented @awrkives

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

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

PREVIOUS | MASTERLIST | NEXT

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

No one was getting close to the prince’s room. Dulce couldn’t even get to the hall; guards formed an impenetrable wall across the path and she had no reason to push her way through. She tried the back hallway instead, the one that ran around his courtyard, thinking she might be able to catch a glimpse from there of what was happening. Doctors must be in with him now, attempting to remove the blade and stop the bleeding of whatever organs it had penetrated. If it hit the heart, there was no hope; he’d slowly bleed out around the knife or quickly once they removed it. Even if the heart was just nicked, the pressure would cause it to rupture, perhaps after he thought he was perfectly healed, just out of the blue. His lung would be bad too. Yes he had two of them, but if blood or oxygen built up in his chest cavity, his lungs wouldn’t be able to expand and he’d suffocate or drown on his own blood. Dulce had heard it was possible to survive with a good surgeon but did not believe that was true, based on what she had seen in life. 

She knew too much about all of it, that was the problem. She knew how to make a clean, quick kill and that doing so was a mercy. She also knew how to drag it out, make someone suffer, though that was not her style. There had been a few times when the kill had not been clean, or in the early days when she was open to working alongside someone else and learned from their shoddy work. A bad kill meant a slow, painful death. Sometimes that’s what the person calling the shots wanted but Dulce didn’t take those jobs. There was no joy or glory in death to her. Even death of truly detestable, irredeemable people left her hollow.  Suffering didn’t undo the pain they had caused others, it only stopped it. There was no justice in death, just an end.

Where had the knife penetrated? Were the doctors competent? Was he alert and suffering or was he still unconscious from the pain? Was he losing blood and would never wake up?

The hallway around the courtyard was blocked off too, no way to get through and spy. She could try to scale the roof and gave it a great deal of thought, but likely they’d be on high alert for any movement up there at the moment. She’d get caught and probably not learn anything. She needed to be in the room, and there was no way or reason for her to be in the room, because why did the maid of his fiance need to be in the room?

Nasimiyu ought to be here, though it was better for her own safety that she was shut up elsewhere. Dulce felt her blood boiling into her ears. If you loved someone, wasn’t your place beside them no matter what? Seokjin might die and Nasimiyu wouldn’t know until someone came to tell her. Dulce knew Nasimiyu didn’t love Seokjin but she’d seemed to grow more fond of him, and at least she was concerned about appearances, and anyway didn’t her crown hang in the balance of whether Seokjin lived? Wasn’t that enough to bring her around despite the risk? How could she be anywhere, doing anything else, if she was supposed to love him? Just because her maid had sent her to her room? She had obeyed, Nasimiyu who was never obedient, which meant it was what she had wanted to do anyway. But she didn’t love him.

Dulce pressed against the wall and tried to slow her breathing in the middle of the churning chaos. At least he wasn’t alone. Seokjin was surrounded by his closest friends right now, surely –at least Jimin and Jungkook must be in there with him, maybe Taehyung too. His friends the servants, the only friends he really seemed to have. Was the king there? At least if Seokjin was conscious, he’d have someone there to hold his hand if he wanted it. Dulce knew how frightening those final moments could be. She’d seen so many of them, and she tried not to stick around, but sometimes… sometimes it was impossible not to notice the fear and loneliness, as people called out for a wife or a mother or a husband, as they begged for death to pass them by today, as they tried to barter with any gods listening for more time. But there were no gods, only Dulce. And she didn’t have time to give, only to take. This time, it was the prince. Maybe hers had not been the hand to plunge the knife but she knew about the plots to kill him and the king. She had done nothing to stop them –had in fact been helping one of those plots. It might as well have been her hand. What if the letter she had delivered was a set up for this?

That was entirely likely, she realized. Her hands were stained after all.

She hadn’t been close enough to see his face but she could imagine it based on his body language, how calm he’d been, as though the knife was nothing but a hand pressed against him for balance. He’d been conscious in the wagon, trying to make jokes and put those around him at ease even as he shuddered in pain. She’d never unsee it. It couldn’t be the last thing she saw of him, the prince in profound but masked pain, and yet it might be. 

A hand grabbing her arm made her exhale and spin, reaching instinctively for a blade she’d never get from her pocket in time. Taehyung’s face staring down into hers, wide eyes, hair wild and shirt crumbled, brought the hum of the hall back into hearing.

“The Queen’s room! The Queen’s room too!” The cry rippled up and down the hall, another armload of kindling on the fires of panic.

Taehyung leaned in close,  his lips pressed to her ear as he murmured, “The rooms have been noticed.”

“How’s the prince?”

“Damned if I know,” Taehyung breathed, and bodied her closer to the wall in an effort to stop the jostling. “Where did you stash?”

Dulce leaned away with a shock and demanded, “Onto that already? Aren’t you worried–”

“Yah, what can I do? You think they’ll let a stablehand in there?” he quickly corrected. “You think I can do the stitches or anything at all? Focus on what we can do.”

It was practical. Usually she’d be the one pointing that out, and it shook some sense back into her. Right. 

“They saw the rooms,” she repeated, trying to latch onto something concrete and focus. It didn’t need to be asked; she could hear the alarm about it, but she felt frazzled in a way that was not familiar. “They’ll think it’s related…”

“Yes, so we’d better make sure it isn’t!” Taehyung hissed.

She gave a sharp shake of her head and argued, “No, it is. That’s good. Cover. But not to us.”

“Yeah, you think? Then the whole thing gets tied to–”

“You need to move the things,” she whispered. 

“Did anyone see you? Anything get left behind–”

“One of those masters saw me– or didn’t see me, but knew someone was down there and told me the way out.”

“Fuck,” Taehyung said.

“Just move the stuff and that’ll be the end. If they saw me at all, they’ll be looking for a woman in the caves, not you.”

“Where you said?”

“Yes, it’s–”

Taehyung was gone before she could finish the reminder. She hoped he was certain, hoped he knew where he was going, and hoped he had a good plan for where he was moving things. She especially hoped no one saw him or missed him while he was there. 

She stayed backed against the wall as the hallway began to clear, folks off to find whatever shelter they thought would help them right now against these invisible forces. She had nowhere to go, nowhere to be. Probably Nasimiyu was waiting for her but Dulce couldn’t think of anywhere she’d rather be less. If Nasimiyu wanted to be a leader it was time to figure out her own way during a crisis, it wasn’t Dulce’s job, certainly not anymore. Her job was–

She was still a maid, damnit! She took off down the hall to the nearest linen closet and piled her arms high with towels, and a bowl for good measure, then circled back at an urgent clip.

“Towels,” she shouted at the guards blocking the hallway to the Prince’s rooms. “They called for towels.”

“No one in or out,” a guard told her.

“Then you take them in, they said there’s blood everywhere,” she snapped and tried to shove the armful at the guards. “You think I want to deal with that and being out of a job because they don’t have the supplies they called for?”

“No one called,” another one said.

“The other hall, but you’re faster– nevermind then, take the towels in and clean! You think the King and Prince want to shelter in a room filthy with blood–”

“Just go,” the guard huffed and stepped aside to shove her through. Over her shoulder she heard him insist, “You know that brat belongs to the princess, she checks out.”

Fools, every one of you. 

But she didn’t stop because she was through, miraculously through! She kicked the door frantically until a guard on the inside opened it, then bustled through with her towels and promptly froze.

Seokjin lay on a board resting across the parlor table, his shirt open and bright smears of blood drying across his stomach and arms. His face was pale and unmoving, eyes closed and lips parted like a mask of death. She couldn’t see the wound itself because two men hunched over it, working. Her stomach churned. A dozen people stood around the room besides, half watching with rapt attention, the other half intentionally diverted. The King was nowhere to be seen.

“Who are you? What the hell are you doing here?” an older man shouted at her –that older bodyguard of Seokjin’s, the one who’d been with Seokjin on the wall the other day. He recognized her in a second and scowled, “You can’t be here.”

“I brought towels…  they were sent for…?” It did not take effort to look dazed by the scene before her.

It was different. A body was different when you’d known the person in it.

“Nobody sent for towels! They shouldn’t be letting anyone through!” The man flung open the door and began shouting down the hall.

But he hadn’t thrown Dulce out so she dove forward and dropped the armload of towels onto the sofa. Seokjin’s skin was parted like curled flower petals, instruments sticking out as they did whatever was necessary to save his life. How odd that she and these men stood on opposite sides of the table, dragging a toy back and forth across the veil of death –a tug-of-war that ultimately could only end one way, though they might hold the line for years, if they were any good.

I didn’t do this.

I did do this.

Who had actually done it, though? She looked around for anyone who might have answers they would give her, but the only familiar faces were Jimin and Jungkook, both staring blankly at their prince on the table. 

She approached them anyway, bumping Jimin’s arm before whispering, “Do they know anything yet?” 

“No whispering!” one of the doctors shouted, and before Jimin could say a word Jungkook grabbed Dulce’s arm and dragged her to the door the older bodyguard opened.

“Hey!”

“Get out of here. You shouldn’t be here,” Jungkook repeated the line.

“Let go of me–”

“Go hide with your princess,” he said and promptly bodied her out and slammed the door. 

Her whole body shook. She had not seen signs of life and to be pushed out like that stung –not her ego, but because of the absolute terror on Jungkook’s face. She wasn’t sure why he’d suddenly evicted her other than needing something to do when there was nothing he, nor anyone else in that room save the doctors, could do. Likely not even the doctors. 

She would not go hide with Nasimiyu, not when there was a guilty party to find here, not when they might be bumbling the investigation right this very moment. They must be, if they believed the queen’s rooms being ransacked was related to the death of Seokjin’s bodyguard and the stabbing of the prince. They would believe the obvious thing in front of them, but what would they miss? 

She moved quickly through the halls, trying not to blink to avoid the image of the Prince’s blank face. How close had Nasimiyu been? Should she have been able to stop it? Why hadn’t the bodyguards stopped it? Things were avoidable if you paid attention, unless someone was as good as Dulce, but Dulce would never have done this out in the open. 

Someone wanted to be caught. They wanted the attention.

She paused, right in the middle of the hall, just as another quartet of guards ran in front of her in the direction of the queen’s rooms. Probably every guard and inspector in the city was being called out. Her mind had caught a fragment of a moment, the moment he’d been stabbed– he had been with his father, and twisted his father or himself. Had the Prince not been the target? The prince was much easier to access than the king. Maybe a commoner, maybe someone taking advantage of the king being among the people and loosely guarded when otherwise it was not so easy to gain access to the ruler of the country…

They must at least have the man in custody. Surely they had managed at least that. They would get answers from him, whether truthful or not. Who was investigating the dead bodyguard? Namjoon? That seemed like a potential conflict of interests, for vaguely political reasons Dulce didn’t understand other than that he and Seokjin were not friends. 

She deliberated, standing in the center of the path, which direction to go? Where to start: to find the King, to find the assassin, to find the dead bodyguard? How exhausting, inspecting was much more complicated than assassinating. 

Well she couldn’t just stand here and wait for the shout of the Prince’s death to echo down the hallways. If she moved quickly, maybe she could figure out who was behind this before that surrender was given. Maybe she could pinch out those wicks before the investigators had a chance to fumble justice. Just in case the ransacking of the queen’s rooms did get tied to her, and idiot investigators lumped the whole thing on her, she better move quickly with her vengeance.

She picked a path and set off.

Seokjin’s head throbbed. He felt his heartbeat in his temples and in the ankle he’d sprained as a boy and in his shoulder. There was something odd about it, his heartbeat, but he couldn’t figure out what; it seemed steady and strong, as far as he could remember. That was it, he wasn’t used to noticing his heartbeat. 

A buzzing in his ears turned into the hum of voices and then time began to move more quickly. He blinked crusty eyes open and tried to make sense of the crowd, especially as background details of his own bedroom sharpened into focus. Why were all these people in his bedroom?! 

“Jimin,” he croaked out, then coughed at the effort, then flinched at the sharp pain in his chest. That was all it took for events to rapidly fall into place: a man with a knife aimed at his father, a knife in his own chest, a bumpy ride in the back of a wagon.

“What do you need?” Hoseok asked, crouched instantly by his side. The voices had all hushed and Seokjin felt like a fish in a tank now, all these faces blinking at him like hungry birds. Lying down was suddenly oppressive but as soon as he tried to move, the pain burned in his chest and shoulder. Hands reached for him, which he hated more than lying down, so he batted them away and just tried again, putting weight on his right side only this time until Hoseok shuffled the pillows behind him to prop him up.

No Jimin, but Jungkook and Alonzo and Marks were close, Hoseok, the doctors, a nurse whose name he did not know. For the briefest moment he thought it was Dulce with her dark hair but as soon as the woman began to move he saw at once it was not her, even before she turned a very different face. Her movements were all wrong; she carried a cup of water differently.

“Do you know where you are?” Hoseok asked, gentler than Seokjin had ever heard him. That’s how he knew it was serious, that Hoseok wasn’t thinking a whit about appearances or decorum but let the concern show openly on his face. 

“I know what happened,” Seokjin said. His voice was gravelly from disuse. Instinctively he reached for the cup the nurse held out only to flinch and pull back. Hoseok gave her a scathing look and took the cup, then clearly deliberated whether to hold it for him. “I can take it,” Seokjin said, willing it to be true. “But what happened?”

“You were stabbed,” Jungkook answered.

“You’ve suffered an injury to the chest, a narrow margin to the right of your heart–” one of the doctors began as the other spoke over him, something about narrowly avoided anything critical alongside but significant blood loss and risk of clots or empyema, which meant nothing to Seokjin.

“Am I dying?” he asked, not interested in trying to parse their medical jargon.

“No,” the first doctor said. “However you should remain in bed and resting for at least a week as we watch for infection or–”

“How long have I been in bed already?” he asked Hoseok, agog at the subsequent answer the festival was day before yesterday. 

“Two days,” Jungkook clarified. “Less than two days but more than a day.”

Could no one give him straight answers? He carefully lifted the cup to his lips, not appreciating the way it trembled. His stomach grumbled, a sharp cramp of hunger that was hopefully a good sign. Really, almost two days he’d been asleep? He craned his neck to see the injury but taped gauze obscured whatever grotesque stitching job they’d done.  He’d made it this far in life with few scars but this would likely be a gnarly one.

The memory of that cut on Dulce’s throat intruded and he frowned.

“I’ll help,” Jungkook offered, trying to reach for the cup of water.

“I want food and answers,” Seokjin clarified, handing the cup to Hoseok instead. “Where’s my father?”

“Uninjured,” Hoseok quickly assured him. “But…”

“Not visiting,” Jungkook added when no one else did. Seokjin wasn’t surprised. Nothing kept his father away like illness or injury. He’d have gone to the funeral, but anything short of that and he’d keep a wide berth until Seokjin was well enough to go to him –which he would probably need to do soon for any real answers. He doubted anyone in this room was privy to valuable information. The doctors were talking about his condition again and he didn’t really care to hear it. He lived, time to move forward.

“Anyone else injured?”

Alonzo cleared his throat before answering, “We found Edmund.”

“Wha?”

“Strung up in the courtyard when we brought you here–”

Marks scoffed, “Don’t act like you were bringing him in. You were off–”

“Not working! Maybe if I had been, we wouldn’t be in here right now–”

Seokjin waved his hand, which quieted no one, so he ignored their bickering and demanded of Hoseok and Jungkook, “What about Edmund?”

“Hanging in the courtyard but dead before that,” Jungkook said. “Had a paper on his chest but no one’s saying what it said.”

“Dead before that as in–”

“Someone killed him before and put him there.”

Seokjin heard this but couldn’t make sense of it. This was all such substance to wake up to from a dreamless sleep. He was pretty sure there had been no dreams. He didn’t feel rested at all, just brittle and empty. His heartbeat still felt too loud, like it should rattle his teeth.

“Who someone?”

“Nobody’s telling us,” Hoseok pointed out. Seokjin looked around the room. It felt too quiet without any of his animals in here.

“Has someone been feeding–”

“Yeah I did it and Jimin,” Jungkook said. “They don’t like all the people coming through so they’re all shut up in your study.”

“It’s not hygienic to have all those animals around someone healing,” one of the doctors scoffed, disdain on full display.

“Ok,” Seokjin said. He began to twist on the bed, tugging the blankets away from his legs. The shouts of protest were immediate but he ignored them and said, “Bring me a robe or something.”

“Your Highness, you should remain in bed–”

“Yah, I’m sure I will come right back after I talk to my father.”

“There’s nothing you need from him right now,” Hoseok too tried to argue.

Jungkook, though, brought the robe and then Hoseok snatched it from him to help Seokjin from the bed and slide the robe on himself, clearly realizing he wasn’t going to be able to dissuade the prince. 

Standing was more exhausting than he’d expected, but between Hoseok and Jungkook he got to his feet and began the shuffle towards the door.

“Wait wait, you need slippers at least,” the nurse said.

“This is absurd, he should remain in bed! He is not well enough to go strolling through the palace!”

“I will avoid strolling, understood.”

“Walking though is good for him,” the second doctor mused, tapping his chin in thought. “When he feels up for it. Get the blood pumping through his body again.”

“Unless his heart ruptures!”

“Was my heart damaged?” Seokjin asked. It would be just perfect if it was, if now his body was a ticking time bomb. He had so much still to do in life, right? Something something. That’s what people always said. Technically it was true, he had a kingdom to rule someday and all that, but it seemed very far beyond him right now. Just walking to the door with Hoseok and Jungkook holding his arms was challenging enough.

“We don’t think so but the injury was close, it’s impossible to say for sure! You need to rest and recover for at least a month–”

“Didn’t he say a week before?” Seokjin asked Hoseok. He was trying to be funny and saw on their faces that they knew it too and didn’t appreciate it, but jokes were preferable to admitting that this hurt quite a lot and he was beginning to wonder why he felt so strongly about getting out of bed right now. He needed answers, sure, but it wasn’t like he could do anything with those answers. Maybe he needed to see the palace and that it was still standing, or needed to see the limits of his own body, or just needed to see his father, nothing more than a little boy once again. No mother anymore for him to run and clutch the skirts of, sadly, so father would have to do.

Walking made him dizzy so he went slow, and limped a little not because his legs hurt but because the rhythm helped him keep moving. Hoseok and Jungkook pressed by his side until Jimin saw them in the hallway and sprinted over with a gasp to usurp Hoseok’s place and try to convince Seokjin back to bed.

“Once I see my father, you won’t have to convince me,” he promised.

“No one expects you to be up yet! You’re supposed to be resting! Why did the doctors allow this?”

“He’s the… prince…” Jungkook argued, looking perplexed.

“Damn right I am and I want answers about who did this!” Seokjin shouted. “It’s annoying! I’m going to have a tragic scar right over my heart and I want answers!” It was for the benefit of the huddle of maids nearby who gave him wide-eyed stares before scurrying away. He hoped he looked more strong than crazy, sashaying through the palace in his robe and slippers, but the performance had winded him and he had to pause for a moment, leaning heavily against Jungkook to catch his breath. Breathing hurt more than being stabbed had; this was what he thought being stabbed should feel like. At the time it hadn’t hurt, he’d just felt like… butter. The knife had just carved into him like he was nothing, nothing at all.

“Can we at least find a rolling chair for him?” Jimin asked Hoseok and Marks.

“I’ll be there before you find one!” Seokjin called after Hoseok’s retreating back. Eager for it to be true because he knew his father would never let him live it down if he was wheeled in, he pushed further, harder, until finally the door of his father’s study loomed in the distance.

He couldn’t make out the words this far, but the raised voices could not be missed.

“Well?” King Donggun asked as Seokjin opened the door, so sharply that at first Seokjin thought it was aimed at him. Instead the barbed question glanced off his uncle, sitting comfortably on the sofa, an unlit cigarette between his fingers.

Instead of answering, Dongsuk looked at Seokjin and greeted cooly, “You’ve awoken, have you?”

“Seokjin.”

“All’s well,” Seokjin assured them both and shuffled heavily into the room before sinking into the chair. With a gesture Donggun sent Jimin and Jungkook from the room. A pitcher of water sat on the table beside him and Seokjin wanted it but did not have confidence he could pour and then hold the glass without trembling.

“I didn’t expect to see you up and about so soon,” his father said, drawing closer, as if the tense scene Seokjin interrupted was nothing at all. “Are you well?”

“He said so.”

“I’m all right,” Seokjin told him. “A bit hassled but more interested in what the whole point of this was. They were after you, weren’t they?”

A great breath rushed from the king and for a brief moment he looked ancient. 

“Heavy is the head that wears the crown, eh?” Dongsuk asked, a derisive sneer curling around the cigarette as he lifted it to his lips to light. “The people grow bold when that head slumps with lazy entitlement–”

“The people grow bold when they are desperate,” King Donggun argued. “Why are they desperate, brother?”

“Because they do not understand to be grateful.”

“What should they be grateful for?” Donggun asked, settling back in his own overstuffed chair. He lifted a skull from the table beside him and rolled it between his fingers, exploring the cracks and crevices with detachment, as if he’d memorized them years ago in similar fits of musing. “Life isn’t about gratitude. There’s nothing I can do to make them grateful. People will always think they could be better off ruling themselves and it is the burden of those above to protect them from the horrors of what that would truly be like.”

Dongsuk took a long drag and puffed it out; Seokjin thought it was intended in his direction but perhaps his uncle simply forgot to notice him further. Seokjin was no more than the chair now, there to soak up the scent of cigarettes and cradle the ass of men with allegedly great minds and a blessed birthright.

“Gratitude that you allow them still to live it,” Dongsuk corrected. “Do you think this will be the last attempt? There will be more until they succeed. You ought to have nipped this when it was still a bud.”

“Destin was behind this?” Seokjin dared to clarify.

“Did you get anything else out of the man?” the king asked his brother.

“‘Freedom for Destin!’” Dongsuk mocked, his voice suddenly a low, bellowing shout. “Nothing but those words. Obstinate, I’ll give him that. He said nothing else and now he will say no more.”

Donggun’s glare narrowed as he gritted through his teeth, “You were not to kill him.”

“It wasn’t done to annoy you.”

“There are other methods beside the brutal, we might have learned more–”

Dongsuk shook his head and huffed, “You are weak, brother. That dagger would have sliced through your soft body, hand and arm to follow because you’re made of custard. You see the core of a man when you bring him to the brink, and he had nothing more to say. You would not have coaxed something different from him with cookies and wine.”

“Now we will never know,” Donggun mused, gaze still trained on Dongsuk. Seokjin watched them back and forth, waiting for the next volley. It was good to catch his breath for a moment anyway, and he found they were answering the questions he hadn’t thought of yet anyway. Destin behind the attempted murder of the king, was it? Not surprising given their growing unrest. Dongsuk had tried to torture anything further out of the man who was now dead and had given them nothing except the obvious, but apparently Donggun thought there might have been more to be got.

“Do you think there was more to it?” he asked his father. “Not Destin, as the man claimed?”

Dongsuk interrupted whatever response might follow, “Your father listens to the gossip of scullery maids. What do the rumors say, brother? That I tried to have my brother killed to frame Destin and so set the stage for my war?”

Seokjin felt a cold shiver rush through his body. The room was very cold, wasn’t it? 

“I don’t need to frame Destin for a war,” Dongsuk scoffed. “They’re so stupid, they’re begging for a war and you’re running out of reasons not to give it to them, unless you’re twice the coward I think you are. I have no reason to murder my own brother. I do not want your crown.”

Donggun shrugged and let the skull fall with a heavy thud back to the table. 

“Your motives have always been beyond my understanding,” Donggun admitted. “Why crave the battlefield instead of a life of peace and prosperity?”

“The battlefield is merely the path.”

“I think the path is a velvet couch and fine horses and a ball with good music–”

“The starving people to the east disagree.”

“So feed them,” Donggun countered. “Have your soldiers distribute bread while they’re marching through the streets flashing their overpolished swords.”

“Is that your order? They nearly killed your son in an attempt to kill you and you want us to make them cakes?”

Seokjin felt like a boy again and the adults were talking over his head. Was there not a straight-forward solution? The Destin people wanted independence, so why not grant it? If it led to their misery, at least they chose it themselves. Ah, but where would they get the steaks he and his father enjoyed so much? Where the chicken for their stews and the dairy for their cheeses and the leather for their armor and boots? Was it not possible to establish proper trade with an independent Destin? He knew the counter-arguments though, he’d heard them the one time he dared ask such a “stupid” question at council: they would pay triple or more for the things they now took for free, or very close to it. An independent Destin might be unwilling to trade at all, and then what? Paloma and Minsk would have to supply these things, they would be crushed by the demand and claim independence next, and who after them? The quality of life, the wealth of the kingdom, the strength of the kingdom would fall. They would be left a small, humbled palace, open once again to invasion. Everything his family had built for themselves would crumble. Wouldn’t that be tragic?

“That is not my command,” Donggun said, again with that ancient sigh. 

“Then what is? Already you are too slow to act.”

“What, will Desitin grow more bold?” Donggun demanded. “They are in my city driving a knife into my chest. They are in my palace plucking off my son’s guards and dangling them in front of my nose. They’re in my wife’s rooms, desecrating– to hell with them all–”

“Mother’s rooms?” Seokjin interrupted.

“They were ransacked while we were at the festival,” Donggun said, sinking back into his chair. “Don’t ask me more, I can’t talk about it.”

“Yes you’ve made that dramatically clear,” Dongsuk scoffed. “Perhaps your enfeebled son can face the rooms in your stead and make a catalog of what’s missing, since it’s beyond your ability?” The disdain for the king’s grief was clear in his voice, but it missed Donggun; he nodded and mumbled, “Yes, perhaps so…”

For a moment Seokjin sat with this. It was too much to make sense of. It felt like something should be more dramatically changed around the palace for all of this to have taken place: he’d been nearly killed, his father had been the target, his bodyguard was found dead after an absence, and his late mother the beloved queen’s rooms had been robbed? Should the whole palace be in shambles? Or deserted? Or absolutely overrun with guards at the very least? 

There was something beyond it all that felt unsettling to him but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Perhaps that was silly, it was plenty to feel unsettled about. An assassination attempt on a monarch, yes, all right that made sense. Killing a bodyguard to weaken security, sure, although why was the body held for so long and revealed at just this moment? And then to destroy the Queen’s rooms, the queen who was no longer alive to care, it had to be to send a message but it was just… so personal. It felt different. There was something strange here when so far Destin’s demands were very direct –though Seokjin didn’t expect he’d be the one to figure it out. His head felt a little swimmy and fluffy now and he began to wonder if maybe he really ought to have stayed in bed a bit longer.

“What did the note on Edmund say?” Seokjin asked, trying to ignore the horror of his own words. He couldn’t stop to think about what those words meant, about what that young, inoffensive, dumb but kind-hearted youth had gone through for only the crime of guarding the Prince. A life snuffed out and for why? It wasn’t fair. If they wanted to kill Seokjin, have at it, but Edmund hadn’t deserved death. 

The king gestured to the table in between the men, near the water Seokjin still longed for. He hadn’t noticed anything else on the table, ignoring what he had assumed were the familiar macabre trinkets his father kept scattered there. Now on closer look he saw a crinkled, torn paper, a folded note, a pile of bloody cloths, two knives, and a silver ring.

He picked up the papers first. The folded note was worn as if it had been folded and unfolded a dozen times. The message inside was simple, written in a shaky poor hand: FREE DESTIN.

“In the pocket of the man who tried to kill us,” Donggun said, watching Seokjin’s study while Dongsuk watched the curl of smoke from his cigarette glide up to the ceiling.

Seokjin folded it closed and tossed it back to the table. The second note was crinkled and torn but not folded; a giant rip at the top muddled a few of the letters but the message was not lost:

We are here. We know everything. We will take everything from you until we get what we want. Each cut will hurt more. FREE DESTIN.

Seokjin dropped the paper quickly back onto the table to mask the shiver. 

“Well they sure know how to write a threat,” he muttered. “Brutal and to the point, but there’s a sort of poetry to it, isn’t there?”

“There’s only one way to answer a threat and come out victorious,” Dongsuk said, reaching forward to tap his cigarette into an upturned skull that was certainly not intended for that purpose –but then a skull really only had one and it had stopped protecting a living person’s mind a long time ago. “With decisive action. They took your home, so take theirs. They tried to take your son, so take theirs.”

“Yes, crush them so there’s no spirit left, only a spark of hatred to simmer for the next generation or so until it catches again and burns our kingdom to the ground,” Donggun sneered.

“Is that your command?”

“No it’s not my command! What is my command! I haven’t decided what my command is yet! These things require thought!”

“If your son had waited to think, you would be dead now,” Dongsuk pointed out and pushed to his feet. It was the closest to praise Seokjin had ever received from him and made him feel instantly like he had done something wrong. He was not here to side with his uncle; he agreed the situation required time to think. He was glad this didn’t rest on his shoulders and yet… if the assassination had been successful, it would. He would be the one sitting in front of this table, looking over these items that had brought about the death of his father, trying to decide the fate of a nation and the people within it. How, how was anyone supposed to know what to do with a situation like this? 

“Seokjin?”

He had missed whatever they asked him but answered anyway, “We’ve already been stabbed. If we react too quickly we’re more likely to expose some new place for them to sink a knife…” He trailed off, head tilting and gaze narrowing as he surveyed the knives on the table, one of them in particular which was actually a dagger, sharp on both sides. Gingerly he picked up the blade, certain he was mistaken. His thumb brushed across the bumps of rubies lodged in the golden handle, flecks of dried blood falling to his lap. The same swirls etched into the blade dipped in and out of view behind streaks of dried blood. The weight felt the same in his hand.

“Seem familiar?” Dongsuk asked. Seokjin startled that his mind was so easily read --it had to be, otherwise his uncle had no way of knowing he had held this exact dagger when it fell from Dulce’s boot the night of the masquerade ball. “A wound knows its maker,” his uncle continued. “Did you feel a twinge in your chest when you touched it?”

He had indeed felt a twinge in his chest.

How the fuck had Dulce’s dagger wound up lodged next to his heart after an attempt on the king’s life?

But it wasn’t Dulce, it couldn’t be. She wasn’t not the one who had stabbed him. She hadn’t even been at the festival until, possibly, the moment it all happened… had she? Now he doubted his mind because he felt sure he had seen her face and just as sure she had not accompanied Nasimiyu that day. He might have hallucinated her.

He threw the dagger down on the table, convinced he was mistaken. Somehow that united his father and uncle in a laugh at his expense. He didn’t care.  Likely the blade was mass produced, a common souvenir in some stall where anyone might get an identical weapon. He sure didn’t know how to tell if the rubies were real; he’d never seen a fake as far as he knew.

“He realized it’s his own blood,” Donggun chuckled, like Seokjin was a toddler confused by his reflection in the mirror instead of a grown man feeling a panic of confusion as to why Dulce’s dagger had nearly ended his life.

“It’s a nice piece of metal. Someone should clean it,” he mused, pushing up from the chair onto unsteady feet.

“We’ll give it to you as a keepsake,” Dongsuk suggested. “It will be your reminder that you’re resilient after all.”

“Once we figure out who it belongs to,” Donggun corrected.

“Destin, right?” Seokjin reminded. That didn’t make sense, Dulce had no connection to Destin. Paloma and Marvono were different, and her mentions of Paloma were too casual, too sincere feeling to be a mask for a true Destin origin. 

… Right?

“Unfortunately, Destin is more than a single person,” Dongsuk scoffed and then strode from the room. End of discussion. Seokjin regretted that, because he wanted to stride from the room, but now it would look like he was following his uncle. Instead he looked at his father, afraid of being trapped alone with him.

He ought to have known better. Donggun seemed to be looking anywhere except at him. He lifted the skull again, then set it down. For a moment they both stared at the knives on the table, and Seokjin braced himself for a question he was not prepared to answer: have you ever seen either of those knives before? Do you have any idea who could be behind this? But Dulce couldn’t be involved, it just didn’t make any sense! What, she was skulking about plotting treason in between beating towels in the laundry and lacing up Nasimiyu’s dresses? She was, what, luring his bodyguards away to torture and murder? Jimin and Taehyung and Yoongi, all of them escaped the murderous intentions of this ridiculous handmaid assassin but Edmund, he was the target that made sense? At the very least she would have sliced up Namjoon by now, hm? Overpowered men much larger than herself, then gone home and rebraided her hair?

“Well I think I’ll–”

“About time for me to take a turn,” the King interrupted, standing briskly from his chair. “Mind you, don’t sit for too long, it’ll let the blood pool in your ass and you might never get up again.”

“Wha??” But then, what had Seokjin expected? His father didn’t cast a second look at him, just left him alone in his own parlor and went off to do who knew what. Not even a good to see you up after Seokjin had nearly died saving his life –an impulse, and arguably a bad one, unappreciated as it were. But then if he hadn’t, he’d be king now, and Seokjin supposed that was even worse than being the wrong son.

For a brief moment he relished sitting alone in a room. Unfortunately, it left him at the mercy of his thoughts, which then drifted back to the dagger on the table in front of him. No, it wasn’t right. Dulce. There was some other obvious explanation. Nasimiyu would be able to tell him that the blade wasn’t Dulce’s.

Since there was no one to stop him, he wrapped the dagger up in the bloody cloth beside it and tucked it into the deep pocket of his dressing gown. 

Hoseok, Jimin, and Jungkook all waited for him just outside, two of them springing from the wall as he opened the door and Jungkook leaping back like he’d been about to break it down.

“It got quiet suddenly,” Jungkook explained.

“I had a moment to myself. Let’s go, to Mother’s room.”

All three men looked at him confused; Jimin clarified, “To… the Queen’s rooms?”

“Yes, let’s go. No one mentioned they were ransacked while I was out.”

“We were dealing with bigger concerns,” Hoseok defended. “You.”

“How bad is it?”

Jimin’s expression mirrored Hoseok’s as he answered, “We don’t know, we don’t go in there.”

“Where’s Taehyung?”

None had any idea where he might be off to, though Jungkook said that Taehyung had come by multiple times until Jimin chased him off because it was going to look suspicious. Seokjin didn’t need appeasement about whether Taehyung had worried about him dying. For a brief moment he found himself wondering if, should he have died, his father would have legitimized Taehyung. He’d need an heir quickly unless he wanted to risk everything falling to uncle Dongsuk, next of kin. Then Destin would be lucky to have a single survivor…

The guard had been increased outside of his mother’s rooms but they moved quickly aside to let him through. They would only have ever allowed he or his father through, and no one had mentioned dead guards, so how had anyone got inside? But Taehyung regularly got in, so there must be a way to sneak past, or distract. Probably the guards were already looking into it on threat of job loss or death, without the bodies of overpowered guards to show for their dedication.

He thought his father might have already put everything back into place, but that was not the case –or if it had been worse than this, he had not got very far. Seokjin couldn’t remember the last time he had been in here, but the damage was obvious. Easels overturned, clothing crinkled on the floor, jewels scattered like someone had been in a rush and not sure what they wanted. The bedding was ripped from the bed, all the drawers tumbled on the mattress. He picked his way through the mess, feeling a stone settle in his stomach –not from the destruction itself, per se, but because his mother wasn’t here to put everything back and he didn’t know the way she would have done. 

He stooped to lift a broken hair comb from the ground, fitting the floral decoration back into place but the twine was snapped and it didn’t stay.

“Who the fuck would do something like this?” Jimin muttered, equally as horrified. 

“Yes, murder is one thing, but this is just rude,” Seokjin joked with no heart in it. Behind Jimin, he noticed the empty spaces on the walls and found himself wondering which paintings had been taken. Maybe he could figure it out, if he sat and tried to remember all of them, and struck out the ones he could still see, but he thought it unlikely. As a boy he was always a blur running through the rooms in search of his mother, taking for granted she would always materialize from behind an easel. 

The painting Taehyung loved so much was gone, he grew certain of that as he looked over the walls. There were so many missing, without knowing what they were, he couldn’t have said whether that was the target or was simply grabbed alongside the others. Taehyung would be devastated. He couldn’t think why the thieves would have taken it, since he didn’t think it was any more or less valuable than the others, but maybe they didn’t have a reason. Just grabbing whatever they could to sell, to fund their rebellion. He supposed he should be grateful they hadn’t simply put a torch to the whole thing. Maybe some of the missing things would turn up in the black market over time and he could get them back. He’d recognize something of hers if he saw it, he had a good eye for that sort of thing. Once he’d recognized a necklace of his mother’s on another woman at dinner and innocently pointed it out, accidentally fueling rumors that the king was sleeping with Lady Aukem. Later he’d seen a ring he gave Delphine in the window of a pawn shop while traveling through Sartia and despite Zselyke saying he was paranoid because no self-respecting noble would pawn their jewelry in a shop, it had turned out he was right. 

He’d bought the ring a second time and given it to a random beggar on the street so at least some good would come from it.

Once he recognized a piece of jewelry or an item of clothing, once his mind had made an impression of it, he was always right. Always. 

The dagger couldn’t be Dulce’s, it couldn’t.

“Can you tell what’s missing?” Jungkook asked.

“I don’t come in here,” Seokjin reminded him. “Paintings, jewelry.” 

“Should we clean this up?” Jimin asked, and it was so kindly offered that Seokjin felt a tear sneak past the blinking.

Why did someone have to come in here? They were just rooms, the Queen was gone, but it felt so personal, to attack the memory of his mother like this. She’d never done anything wrong. She was a champion for the poor and the frustrated, she would have been an ally for the angry Destin –was that why they’d done this? Whoever it was? Had they felt no guilt or shame, knocking over a dead woman’s things, dumping her gowns on the ground like they’d never been worn by the living, breathing queen? He did not usually care so much about inanimate objects like this but standing in the rooms was messing with his head, it was all starting to spin together: his mother’s smile in the mirror as the maids styled her hair, his mother’s real smile as she playfully scolded Seokjin to hold the puppy still as she painted their likeness, the broken floral comb he thought now might have been a gift from his brother when they were children, a cascade of rubies and emeralds and sapphires tumbling from a vanity because a stranger had entered these rooms and– no, because careless children were running through, a broken blue vase another victim, a little boy knocked to the ground because he’d touched a dead queen’s throne –which little boy, was it himself, or Taehyung? Or Yori, his secret nephew? Kanna had reached out because she was afraid and wise to be so –he’d only met her and his nephews because of the letter Dulce delivered to him.

Dulce knew about his nephews and Kanna. She’d read the letter and resealed it, he was certain.

But that was ok, Dulce was not a threat. Dulce was… was warm sparkling eyes over a cup of the best hot chocolate to be found in Yeonhalbi, and raspberry filling smeared on a red lip, and the pink hues of the sunset painted across her cheeks and–

So what if Dulce had known he was meeting Kanna where and at what time? It didn’t tell her anything that would have implicated her in assassinating the king. She hadn’t been holding the dagger, she hadn’t even been there, the events were unrelated. Being a nosy maid did not make someone an accomplice to murder.

“Was Nasimiyu’s maid at the festival?” he asked quite suddenly, not trusting his own thoughts. Jungkook and Jimin could clear it up for him straight away. “Dulce, I mean.”

“She was there when you got st– attacked,” Jungkook answered. “She wasn’t with us before that, I think she just got there.”

“She was here in the palace most of the day. I saw her carrying laundry around,” Hoseok added. After a pause, he added, “Taking her time, like she’d rather be anywhere else.”

“Yeah, probably at the festival,” Jimin snorted. “You know she’s got the worst tasks since she fell out of favor with the Princess.”

“So she was here… and then she went to the festival…” Seokjin’s head was still swimming but he tried to make sense of a timeline. “Hoseok, you never saw whoever it was that placed Edmund’s body?”

Hoseok’s eyes went wide and he gasped, “You don’t think–”

“No I don’t think Dulce placed his body,” Seokjin immediately snapped, more sharply than he’d meant to. “I’m just asking because no one even told me where it was.”

“You’re tired. We told you it was hanging in the courtyard,” Jungkook reminded him.

“And no, I didn’t see anyone. It wasn’t there one minute and then suddenly it was, while we were all distracted by you all roaring into the courtyard.”

Jungkook glanced at Seokjin and suggested, “She’s pretty small to hang a heavy dead body over a railing– and she was back at the festival, there’s no way she beat us here–”

“No no, I don’t think that,” Seokjin insisted. “She didn’t stab me, she didn’t– I only asked because I’m trying to make sense of my own memories and I didn’t think she was with Nasimiyu but then I thought I saw her when I was injured.”

“Yeah, she stopped someone right before they yanked the dagger out of you,” Jungkook told him. “You would have died if they did. Idiots, everyone knows you don’t take the knife out.”

“Lovely. I’ll have to thank her.”

“Not everyone knows that,” Hoseok argued. “I didn’t know that.”

“Who was it tried to take the knife out?” Jimin asked.

“Don’t know, I didn’t see.”

Seokjin nodded, only half listening. It was too much for him to understand except that Jungkook was right, he was tired, and his brain was doing something very strange and trying to convince him that Dulce was somehow involved in all of this when he knew very well she was not. That made no sense. That a farm girl knew not to yank out a knife and had hurried to the festival as soon as her duties were done all made perfect sense. Besides, if it was her knife, she would yanked it out and run away to hide the evidence!

There, irrefutable proof. He let out a sigh of relief that caused immediate and immense pain. All his efforts to ignore his pain were catching up with him and he could feel it hitting his body at once now that adrenaline was not propelling him through the pursuit of answers. His chest hurt, but his shoulder was worse. His arms and legs hurt. His head hurt most of all. How was he supposed to stumble back to his room and rest when all of this made so little sense and another strike might come at any moment? But how was he supposed to do anything else?

Each cut will hurt worse.

Seokjin pushed himself unsteadily to his feet and admitted, “I think I will rest in bed for a bit longer.” Jungkook and Hoseok had his arms before he could even think about overbalancing, and he grimaced as the pain of shifting rippled through his chest. Slowly he opened his eyes as it passed, and took a single step forward, careful not to step on any of the scattered items.

He froze, gaze caught by the aged flatness of cheap silver among all the fine jewels and polished gold tossed about.

“Hand me that,” he said, unable to gesture with his arms held. The rock settled in his stomach again, heavy, dragging him down in such a physical way that he felt Jungkook’s and Hoseok’s fingers tighten on his arms.

“Um… this?” Jimin asked, following his gaze and lifting a diamond bracelet.

“No,” Seokjin corrected. “That locket.”

Lady Zselyke was leaving Seokjin’s room, one hand to her mouth, one hand to her heart, tears shimmering in her eyes. It gave Nasimiyu pause, not sure she wanted to visit in the wake of whatever had set the royal cousin off. Was Seokjin really in such bad shape? Was that why he had called for her, to say his goodbyes?! She’d been told he was stable but badly injured and sleeping the last two days, not that he was taking a turn for the worst!

Not that she’d been told much at all. For two days now she’d been coddled and brushed off each time she tried to get information about what had actually happened and why. “We’re working on it, you’re perfectly safe,” she was told by every council member serving as a gatekeeper for her access to the king, in the same tone of voice one might say don’t worry your pretty little head over man-stuff like death and danger.

Dulce had shared nothing, claimed to know nothing, even when Nasimiyu had snapped at her that she wasn’t a very good informant then, was she? Nasimiyu didn’t believe her anyway; Dulce was missing for long periods of time in which she said only that she wasn’t supposed to be “on shift” –as if being close to Nasimiyu at a time like this was really a matter of scheduling! As if she was just a maid who ought to adhere to a schedule in the first place! She wouldn’t even tell Nasimiyu where she was and Nasimiyu was too angry to degrade herself asking a second time.

Nasimiyu had never felt so alone in her life, and so the summons from Seokjin to his room was a shocking comfort. Here at least was someone who actually cared about her and would answer her questions and thankfully was not dead when Nasimiyu still needed him. The certainty of some respect at last steeled her resolve to enter the room in the wake of Zselyke’s tearful departure.

She’d expected him to be in bed but instead Seokjin sat on the couch in his parlor, a fluffy red rat on his shoulder and a bundle of fluff in his lap –not the rabbit she’d kidnapped before, something else without big floppy ears. She almost thought it was a pillow at first but it made a chirpy-purry sound and twitched as he pet it.

“Nasimiyu,” Seokjin greeted with a broad grin that caught Nasimiyu off guard.

“Yes… you asked for me,” she reminded him, then added, “How are you? No one will tell me anything.”

“Yes ah, well… a little heartsick,” he joked, lifting a hand to his heart. “Cured now that you’re here.” The shoulder rat immediately reached for his hand and he lifted it, palm up for the thing to inspect before it turned away from the empty hand. It was a squirrel. He had a pet squirrel. 

Belatedly she prickled and insisted, “I tried to visit before.”

“Oh… you did?”

“Yes and I was chased away. Honestly, it was insulting, as if I’m not your fiance!”

“Who denied you?” he asked.

Before she could respond, his valet cleared his throat –Jimin, that one– and admitted, “The doctors said you needed peace and quiet… we did let her know you were stable and resting…”

Seokjin cut him off with a wave of his hand but he was smiling, so obviously not angry. Nasimiyu thought that a bit unfair.

“Exactly the right time to have his fiance by his side,” she scolded. 

“My apologies, Princess. If you had asked again, I would have given in. I won’t be so rigid next time.”

Nasimiyu’s eyebrows shot up at the gall and she stared Jimin down, certain he could not possibly have meant to give her that much cheek. Her blood began to boil and she opened her mouth, fully prepared to give him the tongue lashing such impropriety deserved.

But Seokjin once again flapped his hand at Jimin and at the two guards and the doctor who’d just come from washing vials in the bathroom and ordered, “All right, everyone may leave now. Except you, Nasimiyu.”

“Ser, it’s time for–”

“For me to spend some time with my concerned fiance, now go,” he said, more sternly this time. Nasimiyu watched this with fascination, drawn by the serious look he gave everyone present until they all shuffled from the room. Seokjin so rarely looked serious, it was rather becoming on him. Jimin looked more hesitant than even the guards, but when Seokjin narrowed his eyes and grinned it both broke the spell and compelled Jimin out the door.

“I’m sorry for that,” he told her. “For them keeping you out, I mean. I would have liked you here. They’ve been… coddling, to say the least.”

“You didn’t even wake up for two days,” she pointed out. “They were right to be frightened.”

He patted the couch next to him to invite her closer and asked, “And you? Were you frightened on my behalf?”

“I was worried,” she said, perfectly true. She took a step closer, then looked warily at the animals. As if to punctuate her uncertainty, two more balls of fur went running past her, under and through her skirt hem as if she wasn’t even there. She gasped and leaned against the couch.

Seokjin’s laugh quickly turned to a grimace that he seemed just as eager to brush past, gesturing, “Those were Daffodil and Nutmeg. This squirming worm who’s tired of my pats is Petunia.” He set Petunia on the floor and she tore off on legs Nasimiyu couldn’t see. “And this distinguished gentleman is Lord Sciurus.”

“He’s a… squirrel.”

“He is.”

“I didn’t think you could keep those as pets.”

“Well normally you shouldn’t, no, but I found him when he was an abandoned baby. His mother had just been killed and I didn’t want to leave him to die as well so I brought him home, raised him up, and he’s repaid the kindness with endless amusement.” Lord Sciurus scurried from his shoulder down to the ground to briefly touch the back of a slow moving tortoise, then raced over to a tree in the corner. “He’s very fond of Tuga, I think because they came from the same place.”

Nasimiyu nodded, not sure what else to say.

“Are you fond of animals? Did you have any pets growing up?” he asked her.

“No. Animals are all right,” she quickly corrected herself. “I like horses.”

“I already know that.”

“I like dogs,” she admitted.

“More than cats?”

“My father is allergic, we weren’t allowed,” she admitted.

“I’d say you could have cats here but they might eat my children… maybe we can find a very well behaved one…”

“I don’t need a cat,” she assured him, then sat because he’d glanced at the couch again. This was in fact the first time she’d spent time in his room, a fact which only now dawned on her. His rooms were not as extravagant as she would have expected for the royal prince, though certainly eccentric. The wall of cages –for animals, not even for anything sexual– were… notable. 

Well, it didn’t quite matter what his rooms were like. They would have separate rooms still while married, and she could insist he just always came to hers.

Belatedly she realized he was watching her, and quickly asked, “How are you feeling?”

“Like I got stabbed. But it’s not that bad, you don’t need to worry about it. They said I’m healing very well and will be back to my usual behavior in no time.”

“Then what was Zselyke crying about as she left here?”

“Ah…” He grimaced again and scratched his neck and admitted, “She’s just… excitable. Too many deaths in the family before this so she gets all worked up when there’s almost another.”

“You’re very casual for having almost just died.”

His hand stretched out and across hers, resting in her lap, and he insisted, “I’m fine. Really. How are you? They told me you’re doing all right and haven’t had any trouble but I’d rather hear it from you.”

“No, no trouble unless you count my fiance getting stabbed in the middle of a festival and then coming home to find his bodyguard hanging in the courtyard–” His hand squeezed hers and she wished he’d let go, she did not appreciate the coddling even if she understood she ought to play the role of soft, worried fiance right now. She was afraid, secretly, but not in a way she wanted to admit to him.

Who had done this?

Did her father have someone else acting without telling her?

Or was it someone else, and she, as another royal and the future queen, was on the list?

“I’m sorry you had to see it,” he told her, coddling, patronizing, and for a brief moment she warred with whether to shove it away. Didn’t he know she was too strong to be bothered by something like that? But she’d never seen something like that so close before. She’d never seen blood run so freely. It had been everywhere by the time they got back to the palace, his body coated in it, him unresponsive and –well, in the moment, her concern for him had not been faked. 

“I’m not falling to pieces,” she insisted.

“I know but I can pretend.”

“Pretend what?”

“I’m just glad you are safe and I’ll make sure everyone understands that my door is never closed to you,” he told her. “I’m sorry that you were left in the dark, it won’t happen again.”

“Do you know who did it then? It’s over?”

“Ah…” He stalled, nudging a rabbit with his foot as she came over to inspect, then hopped away. “I don’t want to worry you…”

“I’m already worried. You just said, no secrets between us.”

“I know, I did. I don’t… I don’t think we can be happy in our marriage if we keep secrets from each other. I never want to,” he said. His gaze met hers, brown eyes so earnest it almost made her squirm, like if he looked too long he would realize just how many secrets she had. Honestly, she didn’t think you could be a very good ruler if you didn’t understand the value of secrets, but there was certainly something romantic and ridiculous about the idea that you and your spouse would have none between you. She’d never stopped to question whether her parents did, but she didn’t think so.

“Yes, I agree. Your worries are mine as well, so just tell me.”

“Destin insurgents,” he answered. “I wasn’t the target, my father was. The man who did it has already been… dispatched, after saying nothing other than a call for Destin independence.”

Nasimiyu frowned and pointed out, “The restlessness is getting worse.”

“I’d say it’s far beyond restlessness now,” he chuckled, then let out the quietest grunt and grimaced.

“Stop laughing if it hurts you. Not everything calls for jokes, you know. I’d say this moment in particular is a very serious one!”

“It’s how I cope.”

“Yes I know but maybe find a better way.”

“Like what? How do you cope?”

“By learning everything I can. You said your father was the target but then why in the world was your guard murdered?”

“That…” His face scrunched up and she braced herself for another stupid joke, but instead he admitted, “There was a note with Edmund clearly meant to threaten and intimidate, saying how they’re here among us. I don’t want to frighten you–”

“I’d say I am a healthy amount of frightened. Anyone who isn’t worried hasn’t got a brain in their skull.”

“I don’t think you’re a target but of course this is why… why we have increased the guard. No more lone guards. Shifting rosters. Background checks. I want to protect you but we both know the reality of our positions.”

Not once I’ve taken over, she bit back. This sort of thing didn’t happen in Marvono because her father didn’t allow it, and it wouldn’t happen once her reign was in place either. If Donggun was a better, stronger king, the unrest would never have even started, much less reached this boiling point.

“Well what are you going to do about it?”

“About which part?”

“Destin,” she said. “It’s your father who’s got us to this state but you’re the one who’s hurt from it. Tomorrow it will be our problem so we shouldn’t let things get even worse.”

“I… I’m not sure yet what to do about Destin,” he admitted. “It’s… complicated.”

“Everything about being a king is complicated, but you can’t drag your feet about it.”

“First we need to get our palace safe again and then we can think about–”

“Treat the symptom, ignore the cause?” she interrupted, incredulous. “That’s not–”

“It’s not my decision right now,” he argued. “There’s only so much I can do. My father is the king, not me.” 

Nasimiyu felt her face heating up with frustration. Didn’t Seokjin see that was exactly why it would be so useful to step forward now as a brave, better leader? If Donggun stepped aside –or was pushed aside– then they could change Yeonhalbi’s future even sooner, no need to wait years for her father’s plan with all its steps. 

“For now,” she huffed. “But you can’t let him give us a broken kingdom to fix. We can’t wait to get involved. Get your head out of the sand, Seokjin. You almost died for him!”

Despite her outburst, Seokjin remained wholly calm. He nodded, as if he’d expected all this and was not bothered.

“We’ll know more tomorrow,” he told her. “I’ve only been awake a few hours, Nasimiyu. The doctors keep squawking at me about being out of bed this long. I went straight to my father and uncle to get involved with what we do now. I’m not hiding but I don’t know enough to fight for anything yet. I hear what my father says, I hear what my uncle says, and I know that Destin is a province of people who are struggling. Not everyone there is an assassin, they’re just… people. We can’t make a rushed decision about their future without knowing more.”

“Does your uncle want to declare war?”

“Yes,” Seokjin confirmed. Of course he did.

“And your father wants…”

“Undecided.”

“I don’t like your uncle, but you’re being too much like your father. Too cautious.”

“You agree with my uncle then?”

“I…” Nasimiyu quailed as the question turned back on her. “I don’t know the same things you do yet about Destin. Obviously the insurgents have to be found out so they can’t try again–”

“But it’s treating the symptoms while ignoring the cause of it all,” Seokjin countered, tossing her own words back at her. “But if we focus on humanitarian efforts, does it send the message to everyone that they ought to assassinate their king to get what they want? Is it even possible to placate them, and how, or will nothing short of independence work? Then the kingdom crumbles… these are big, difficult questions, Nasimiyu. I’m glad you want to be involved in solving them because I sure don’t fucking know…” He sighed and shook his head. “But you don’t either, so work with me here. You’re right, this is our future.”

“So then where do you think we should start?”

“Well we both need to learn more about Destin,” he pointed out.

She avoided his gaze, annoyed by a very practical answer. She had studied up on everything she could before coming to the palace but nothing about Destin or the splitting off of provinces that seemed useful now. Her father would never consider such a thing and so her schooling hadn’t either.

“Speaking of,” he mused. “Is Dulce connected to Destin somehow?”

“Dulce?” The name was so out of nowhere that for a moment Nasimiyu couldn’t even place it. “My… handmaid, Dulce?”

“I don’t know any others,” he pointed out, grinning, but at least not chuckling.

“She’s from Paloma.”

“Yes… hm… how do I put this…”

“Plainly, I hope.” Nasimiyu felt her mood darken even further. Why was he bringing up Dulce at a time like this? Ought she bring up Namjoon? Here they were having what was arguably a good, weight conversation for the future king and queen and he suddenly changed the subject to someone she didn’t want to think about?

“Do you know she’s from Paloma, or is that something she told you?”

“What exactly are you asking me? I have no reason to doubt where she’s from. It’s not exactly information she’s forthcoming about anyway so I’m not sure how you know–”

“How well do you know her?” Seokjin asked. “For how long?”

“I… well enough. What is your point, Seokjin?”

He hesitated, blinked at her, and Nasimiyu felt nervous flutter in her stomach. 

Oh. Fuck. 

A rush of cold through her body was chased by a flush. 

What had he found? 

She tried to hold herself steady because if he was asking her, it meant he hadn’t connected Nasimiyu to anything yet. It could all be a mistake because certainly neither of them had anything to do with Destin! 

Seokjin reached for his robe, discarded over the arm of the couch, and fished out a bundle of fabric. Once undone, it unveiled a knife, crusted with dried blood. Dulce’s knife.

She wasn’t sure she’d succeeded in keeping her face neutral, but asked as carefully as she could, “What is this?”

“The dagger that stabbed me,” he said. “Have you ever seen it before?”

“No. No, I haven’t.”

Dulce, what have you done?

“I saw it once, among Dulce’s things, or one that looked very much like it.”

“Dulce didn’t stab you,” Nasimiyu pointed out. “It was a man I’ve never seen before.”

“Yes, I know. I’m not accusing her of stabbing me, I’m just trying to understand… I wanted to know if you had any… any doubts or suspicions…”

“That my handmaid is part of a Destin plot to overthrow the royal family? I am absolutely certain that’s not the case,” Nasimiyu assured him. She hoped she sounded more confident than she felt in the moment. Obviously Dulce wasn’t part of a plot with Destin, but she was part of a different plot, and that was absolutely her dagger. It had to be. There were only two of them in the world; Nasimiyu had the pair made especially for the two of them, with that exact etching in the blades that showed a very abstract version of the constellation in the sky the night they’d met. Nasimiyu hadn’t even told Dulce that’s what it was, abashed by her own streak of romantic grandeur after having them made. It was a mortifying gesture, but Dulce had liked the sharpness and the weight and the rubies. 

“The thing is…” Seokjin looked loath to say this next part. “Isn’t this hers too?” He pulled another something out of the pocket of that cursed robe, and let it fall into Nasimiyu’s outstretched hand.  

“A… necklace?” Nasimiyu choked out. Not just any necklace. Dulce’s locket, that one she picked at with her nail sometimes. 

“I don’t know if you’d heard about someone ransacking my mother’s rooms at the same time as all of this.”

“Yes, I heard though I don’t really understand it. They stole valuable things?”

“Paintings, jewelry, who knows what else. I went to look for myself and I found that,” he explained. “That definitely did not belong to my mother.”

Dulce, what have you done?!

Nasimiyu didn’t know what to say. She couldn’t think quickly enough. The dagger was bad enough but the locket too, it absolutely meant Dulce had to be involved somehow –but then why was Destin getting credit? Had her father gone ahead with an assassination plot so soon? Was he intentionally framing Destin? Did he have Dulce acting without Nasimiyu being informed? Or had Dulce gone rogue? Had Dulce been playing them all along?

All Dulce’s skulking the last few days came immediately to mind. No, even further back than that. Dulce had been cagey for a while. And angry, she’d be a fool not to have noticed that Dulce was angry, and volatile, and pushing back. Distancing herself from Nasimiyu. Distracted with someone –or something– else. 

What if it wasn’t Nasimiyu’s father who was acting, but something else? It would be just like Dulce to double-cross, wouldn’t it? Maybe she was playing two sides right now. Maybe… maybe she and Namjoon?! Speaking of mysterious people…

But it was just a hunch. If her first guess was right that Dulce was involved in this at Prince Hamisi’s command, Nasimiyu needed to know right fucking now so she didn’t accidentally bring the house down on herself by saying something wrong that led it all back to herself. 

“That’s not Dulce’s,” Nasimiyu said, popping it open with her nail. Seokjin leaned forward, as if he hadn’t thought to do that earlier, but there was nothing inside to prove Nasimiyu a liar –no images, no lock of hair, no engravings. “This looks like some cheap trinket you’d buy at a pawn shop.”

“She has a locket just like this, I’ve seen it before.”

Nasimiyu gave him a curious look and mused, “You seem to notice an awful lot of my maid’s possessions.”

“I have an eye for jewelry,” he said, and had the humility to at least look shamefaced. 

“She keeps it tucked inside her dress,” Nasimiyu countered. 

“It fell off once, when she was in the kitchen fetching food. I picked it up and it looked just like this.”

Nasimiyu did not like being questioned and insisted, “I can promise you I know much more about Dulce’s possessions and this isn’t the right locket. I give all my handmaids a locket with a photo of me inside so they can remember their duty to me as first above anyone else. I would never give them something as cheap as this.”

“Your other handmaids have them too?” he asked, outright skeptical of her admittedly insipid lie.

“Only Dulce wears it,” she scoffed. “So you can see why she’s my favorite.”

“I know she’s your favorite and I’m sorry to be asking questions like this, it just seems odd, don’t you think?”

“No, I don’t. For all I know those things belong to Jimin.”

“They… don’t.”

“Well they don’t belong to Dulce, either, I know her much better than you do. She has no ties to Destin but she is tied to me, so if you’re accusing her of something, you’re accusing me!”

“I’m not, Nasimiyu, I’m not,” he insisted, immediately placating. “I’m sorry, I knew it would be uncomfortable but I had to ask. I really thought… but I’m relieved, truth be told. I had to ask but I was hoping you would call me crazy.”

“You’ve been through a lot,” Nasimiyu agreed, eager to lean into that very suggestion. “I know it’s been frightening, Seokjin, but Dulce is one of the most trusted people in my life. I vouch for her completely.” For at least a little longer.

Seokjin nodded and sank back against the pillows, looking absolutely spent now, somehow both flushed and pale at the same time. 

“Ah. I’m relieved,” he said again. “Thank you. You see why I wanted to talk to you in private. The last thing I’d want to do is hurt either one of you.”

She patted his hand this time, shocked by how cold it felt, and assured him, “I know. You’re just tired. Have you looked at your own staff though? There’s that stablehand who’s always stepping out of his place, or… or I’ve heard kitchen staff tend to be shifty and think they can sneak around unnoticed.”

“We’re looking into everyone,” Seokjin promised, but the strength was gone from his voice in a way that genuinely alarmed Nasimiyu. He looked sickly now. Fading. 

“Are you all right?”

“I’m just tired. I’m all right.”

“You look like you’re going to faint,” Nasimiyu realized. “Here, lie down, I’ll get the doctor–”

“I’m not going to faint, definitely not in front of you. Maybe just– I’ll get some rest. Today has been… but will you come back later? We can talk about happier things. We still have a wedding to plan.”

Alarmed by his compliance as she nudged him to stretch out, Nasimiyu found herself joking, “If Zselyke can stop crying long enough to help.”

“Be kind, she’s not made of the stern stuff you are.”

“I’m calling for the doctor.”

“I’m fine.”

Nasimiyu was worried he had pushed himself too hard and might not be out of danger yet, and she was also not much interested in catching her fiance in a dead faint, so she spared them both and hurried to the door to trade places with the doctor.

She needed to talk to Dulce. She needed an explanation immediately as to how Dulce’s dagger and locket were involved with this assassination attempt –one in which Seokjin had almost been killed, completely ruining the plans to get Nasimiyu on the throne. Was that Dulce’s plan? Was she trying to sabotage Nasimiyu? Which was more likely, that, or that Prince Hamisi had changed the plan and not told Nasimiyu, maybe told Dulce not to tell her? Would Dulce keep a secret like that from her?

Nasimiyu’s own guards and attendant fell into step around her as she strode down the hall. Where would that woman be right now? Nasimiyu had no interest in chasing her all over the palace, not only because she felt very tired now but also it would leave her looking rattled if she was running all over, and this was not a time to look out of control of herself. 

Realizing she didn’t need to do the work herself, she snapped at the maid trailing her, “Find Dulce and send her to my room immediately.”

The maid’s eyes were wide as she nodded and scurried away to do so, leaving only the guards to flank Nasimiyu back to her room where she promptly shut them outside so she could calm herself. She was absolutely sweating now. What was going on? Why was Dulce’s locket in the queen’s ransacked rooms? Stupid locket was empty anyway. She’d always wondered what Dulce kept locked inside but it really said something, didn’t it, that she had nothing precious to carry within.

Nasimiyu sat heavily on the sofa and clenched her head in her hands. If she couldn’t trust Dulce, she wasn’t sure she could trust anyone. Who else could she be certain had her best interest at heart? The shocking thought that it was only Seokjin was most unwelcome. She had more people in her life than that. Obviously she needed to send a note to her parents –she realized with a start that she hadn’t done that yet, which made no sense. She could have them send a quick note by bird and follow with a longer letter. Obviously her parents should return to Priva at once and not leave again until the marriage was complete. No one in this royal family knew what they were doing; they needed Prince Hamisi’s firm hand to get this place in order.

Unless that firm hand had betrayed her using her own handmaid. 

She moved to her desk and dashed out the simplest note she could think of and stepped out into the hall to call for someone to have it sent immediately to her parents, then returned to work on the longer letter, only to find herself at a loss for words. How was she supposed to explain these things in a way that sounded neither too revealing nor as frightened as a little girl? She wasn’t confident her parents could read between the lines; she’d never been much of a letter writer to begin with, certainly not with an embedded message. She couldn’t strike the right tone, coming across with each attempt as accusatory or frail. 

She paused her efforts, mind wandering for a moment back to the actual assassination attempt. Dulce had come out of nowhere. She was supposed to be at the palace doing chores and tasks and anything other than enjoying herself, so Nasimiyu didn’t know why she was suddenly at the festival in the first place. There to watch the success of her efforts? Maybe the assassin was someone Dulce had hired, in order to put a space between herself and the act for security. The target was the king, after all, not Seokjin. But to use her own dagger was too careless, Nasimiyu would never have thought Dulce was so stupid. It wasn’t like her at all. Dulce’s expression of horror when she’d reached Seokjin had looked so sincere, as if she too fully understood the potential consequences of what had just happened… or was it just guilt from botching the assassination of the king? 

Oh where the fuck was that woman to answer for herself already?!

Nasimiyu ripped up the papers and tossed them into the wastebasket, then reached for a new sheet but the surface was empty. She yanked open the desk drawer to dig for more and froze.

The drawer was empty. Completely empty. No paper, no ink, but more importantly, no dagger. 

Nasimiyu pushed back from her desk as if it had burned her. The entire time Seokjin had been talking about the dagger, she’d been thinking only of Dulce’s. He’d asked if it was Dulce’s. Of course that was Dulce’s dagger; Nasimiyu knew exactly what it looked like; she’d had it custom made; she carried its twin under her clothes –but in a fit of anger after finding out about Dulce fucking Namjoon she’d shoved it in this very drawer, refusing to carry that token of their bond. 

No, maybe she’d moved it and only couldn’t recall. Things had been so crazy since then, probably she’d put it somewhere else. She checked the other two drawers in the desk but it wasn’t there because yes, she must have moved it. Or a maid had. Just because she didn’t think they’d have any reason to poke around her desk drawers, didn’t mean they wouldn’t; maybe one of them was nosy and needed to be promptly let go.

Nasimiyu left her desk and instead tore through her jewelry boxes and shoe boxes but found only two ornate knives from Marvono, undecorated practice blades Dulce had used to train her with. She checked the shelves with her hair pieces and perfumes all the way to the back of the wardrobe. She felt around the bottom of the wardrobe, then began ripping gowns from their hangers and digging through any pockets or bundles in the fabric. When she still didn’t find anything, she crawled around looking under the tables and couches, under the bed. She swiped her things around the bathroom to clear drawers and shelves. Her room looked like it had been ransacked after the queen’s but still no ruby dagger had been found.

Did Dulce still have hers after all? Was it Nasimiyu’s dagger that had been used to stab the prince?!

Nobody knew that though. Only she and Dulce knew about the knives and Dulce wouldn’t frame her or blame her. No one else knew about the knives, right? She racked her brain, trying to recall if anyone else of her household would ever have seen the dagger. What if the king released a drawing, asking for anyone who recognized it, would someone point to her? Or to Dulce? But nobody dug through Dulce’s things daily to clean and organize the way they did Nasimiyu’s.

A knock at the door made Nasimiyu’s heart leap that it was Dulce, but only crochety old Mirte walked through.

The head maid gasped, “Princess! What has happened?”

“I’m looking for something,” she said, darting forward. If she was careful, she could test it out here. 

“My goodness! What are you looking for? We can find whatever it is for you, there’s no need to… to worry yourself.” 

“I’m looking for my dagger,” Nasimiyu explained. 

“Your dagger? Which one?”

It was not the answer she had hoped for. She had not been sure any of her maids even knew she ever carried one. The whole point of a concealed weapon was for it to be concealed.

“Well I don’t have many of them,” Nasimiyu snapped.

“Of course not, my lady. I suppose it’s all relative… tell me which one and we will find it for you. There’s the silver one with the turquoise in the handle, or the plain silver pair –oh I see them there.” She watched Mirte go to where the silver training daggers were tossed to the floor. “There’s the one with the rubies in the handle, and–”

“No, that one doesn’t belong to me,” Nasimiyu interrupted. Quickly she added, “I’m looking for the one with the black leather handle.” Such a dagger didn’t exist.

“Doesn’t belong to you?” Mirte repeated, obviously convinced it did.

“It’s Dulce’s,” Nasimiyu corrected.

“She has a gold and ruby dagger?!” Mirte asked, incredulous.

Nasimiyu glared, “Yes, and so? It belonged to her father or something, I don’t know, she’s very careless with it, it’s always falling off her when she’s working, I’ve given it back a dozen times.”

“I haven’t seen one with a black leather handle…” At Nasimiyu’s glare, Mirte amended, “I’ll get the girls in here right away and we won’t stop looking until we’ve found it!”

“See that you do!”

Nasimiyu strode from the room with no destination in mind but afraid she’d crumble if she kept up the lies. Where the fuck was Dulce? They were really in it now. Nasimiyu’s dagger gone missing was too much of a coincidence. Someone knew it was Nasimiyu’s and wanted to frame her for trying to kill the king, though she didn’t understand how Destin played into that kind of a plot. No one would be able to tie Nasimiyu to anything to do with Destin. If they tried, she would just say her dagger been stolen. After all, someone had hidden a body, why not also take a dagger she didn’t notice was missing until later?

But dammit, she’d just admitted to her own maids that she recognized a dagger by that description and it belonged to Dulce, minutes after telling Seokjin she’d never seen a dagger like that in her life. Her own staff would identify the blade if they went asking, and point to Dulce, and Nasimiyu would obviously say her staff was lying or misquoting her, but if it cast doubts on her… doubts might be enough rope to hang her by. 

What if she admitted to Seokjin the dagger was hers but that someone had stolen it from her room? There was already the dead body in her closet, surely that gave a foundation for someone entering her room again to steal a blade to frame her. Would he believe her? He would. He must!

But would King Donggun? Would General Dongsuk? She shuddered at the thought of questioning under them, if they thought she was involved in any way. The fact was that Dulce was a far better liar than she was, and if those heartless men did the interrogation, Dulce would have the more convincing answers. Nasimiyu’s title ought to protect her but what if it didn’t? The whole problem in Destin right now was exactly why they needed new leadership in this country, and that couldn’t happen if Nasimiyu went down for trying to assassinate the king! No matter what, no matter what sacrifices had to be made, that couldn’t happen. It wasn’t just about saving her own skin, this was for the greater good. 

Probably the king’s men were already interrogating the household staff. It was a miracle that hadn’t already happened, and someone in her household was going to betray her and say the dagger was hers, she was certain of it. You couldn’t get loyalty anywhere these days.

Nasimiyu turned and ran to Seokjin’s room. At first the door only cracked at her knocking and one of his bodyguards said,

“Mind you, the prince is sleeping!”

“How dare you use that tone with me!”

The man practically gasped, “My apologies, Princess, I didn’t see it was you! I–”

“Let me in right this moment.”

“He is resting though–”

“He said his door is never closed to me, now stand aside, I will not say it again.”

The guard shuffled aside and let her enter. Jimin and another guard both looked up and Jimin repeated what the guard had said, that Seokjin was sleeping.

“This cannot wait and he wouldn’t want me to,” she snapped and strode past them down the hall where his bedroom must be. She had only a passing glimpse that actually his chambers were more rooms than she had expected, much bigger in fact and with a perfect view of the sea if one liked that sort of thing. She didn’t bother to notice anything else, just pushed the curtain open for light and sat on the side of his bed to shake him awake.

“Nasimiyu?” he stammered, bleary-eyed and confused. “What’s wrong? Why are you here? Is everything all right?”

“I lied to you earlier,” she confessed. “Not on purpose, I was just in shock… I panicked… I wasn’t sure what you might think but you’re right, there shouldn’t be secrets between us, and especially not a secret like this–”

“Nasimiyu, wait, wait.” He pushed himself up to sitting, stiff and grimacing, before reaching for her arm. “Slow down. What is it?”

“Oh Seokjin,” she cried and threw her arms around his shoulders. “The dagger and locket are Dulce’s!”

Dulce walked toward the kitchen with purpose, annoyed beyond measure. 

Rumor had it that the Prince had been walking the halls for the first time, that he was seen heading towards the king’s sitting room and then back to his room, and people had been coming and going from his room all afternoon. 

The state of his health was less agreed-upon, with some whispering he’d shuffled like an elderly man, and others saying he’d stumbled like a drunk, and still others saying he’d practically skipped, as if he was in a full state of health so that they wondered if he’d even been stabbed at all. 

Dulce believed no one. She wanted to see with her own eyes but sneakily wandering past the prince’s room did her no good; he was clearly tucked away inside with an increased guard she had no way of striding confidently past this time. The next best thing to seeing with her own eyes was to hear it straight from a reliable source. Taehyung wasn’t in the stable or yard, Jimin wasn't in the servants’ wing, so the only place she knew to hope for that encounter was the kitchens. 

This close to dinner time, the kitchen bustled with the clang of trays and spoons against pots and inevitably a dropped glass or dish. She realized her mistake almost immediately; none of the prince’s inner circle would be casually lolling about here. The best she could hope for a quick update from Yoongi, or maybe she would luck out and Jimin or Jungkook would be there. 

Was it really true, that the prince was awake? Not only awake, but moving about the palace? Stable but sleeping –as the report had been for the last two days– was no comfort. Stable just meant the likely incompetent doctors couldn’t necessarily see any battles raging beneath the surface of his skin. Infection could be entering his blood, or blood quietly seeping throughout his chest cavity, entering his lungs or compressing his heart until symptoms showed too late. She also knew his “stable” health could all be lies spread to keep people from panicking until the prince’s fate was known. Just because it came from Jimin didn’t mean anything; he’d looked pale and worried, and might have told Dulce what he too wanted to believe was true. She’d have felt better with just a glimpse with her own eyes –not that she could have done a single fucking thing to help in any way, but at least… at least she’d know.

Staff bumped into her, chasing her to the wall with annoyed glares. She opened her mouth to tell them she needed food for the Princess but no words came out and the staff ignored her anyway. Maybe taking food to Nasimiyu would be a good thing, give her some purpose amidst all this waiting, but probably Nasimiyu was dressing for supper anyway. With no information to give, she’d been avoiding her.

No, that wasn’t true. Dulce avoided her because she didn’t want to be bothered with petty tasks right now until she knew whether the Prince was going to die or not. She couldn’t deal with Nasimiyu’s fretting about the plan or danger or whatever other ridiculous things were making the princess snappish and sharp, according to the other maids. She was a fucking princess, being in danger came with the territory, dead people came with the title, Nasimiyu needed to steal her spine and learn how to carry on in a crisis. It made Dulce so angry that Nasimiyu was utterly useless right now. The one time Dulce had been by her room and asked her for updates, Nasimiyu had none, refused to force her way into the room, and seemed insulted that someone hadn’t come to cater and coddle her, that in fact they were all far more concerned with the targeted king and dying prince and captured assassin and dead bodyguard.

It’s not her fault, Dulce tried to remind herself. It wasn’t Nasimiyu’s fault that wealthy people were born into privilege and made useless for it. It wasn’t Nasimiyu’s fault she had no power or standing in the palace and no actual idea how to get things that weren’t given to her. It wasn’t Nasimiyu’s fault that the prince had apparently thrown himself on the blade instead of letting his father suffer the consequences of his own policies –fool man!

Dulce’s neck itched. It was all the noise and bustle of the kitchen, she hated being here. She picked her way around the edge of the kitchen, craning her neck to find Yoongi through the throng while also knowing full well that Yoongi probably didn’t know anything that she didn’t. In fact she probably knew more because she’d done her damndest the last two days to find out anything she could about what had happened –but had learned only that the lousy assassin and the note on Edmund both gave credit to Destin, that whispers suggested it might be Dongsuk framing Destin to instigate a war, that there might be no way to find out the truth because he’d conveniently tortured the assassin to death. Of course.

Dulce didn’t have an opinion yet. Dongsuk was capable, certainly. Destin might be angry enough too though. It wasn’t like there were any shortage of assassination plots bubbling around the king, take your pick. For all she knew Prince Hamisi was impatient and sent another man after the king, told him to frame Destin, and now here they were because the stupid Prince had a self sacrificing nature, damn him! What a stupid way to be. Absolutely stupid.

There, she saw him at the far corner. Yoongi hunched over a pot, glaring at whatever was inside and not up to his standards. He scolded the lower servant beside him and turned to the next dish for review as Dulce dodged the people around her to get within view. Once there, she waved her hand, both wanting and wanting to avoid his attention. If he could just tell her that the Prince had sent for something to eat, she’d finally be able to rest. Focus on whatever she needed to do next. Which was, honestly, to talk to the prince and tell him everything she knew. It had almost been too late. What if she’d talked to him sooner and it could have prevented any of this…

“Yoongi!” she called. She felt like she’d shouted so loudly but the bustle of the kitchen swallowed it up. It was embarrassing to shout. She wasn’t someone who shouted ever and it felt ridiculous. She cupped her hands around her mouth for volume and tried again, “Yoongi!” This was stupid, she realized that, she should just come back later once the supper service was done. But she needed to know right now, was it true? Was the prince finally awake? Was he going to be all right? Somebody had to know!

“Yoongi!” she shouted, loudest of all, and this time he turned to her, startled by her shout. No, not by her shout. A strong hand grabbed her arm, pinched it like a crab right below the shoulder and lifted to get her off balance.

“Hey, wait!” Yoongi called in the background. It cut through the noise as a second guard grabbing her other arm. Her feet barely touched the ground now, her body twisting at the discomfort of how tightly they gripped, how high, her shoulders aching as they wrenched this way and that because the guards both tried to turn opposite directions.

“Found you,” one said, on top of the other saying, “You’re under arrest.”

“For what?” she asked, going wide eyed with genuine surprise. Not that there wasn’t plenty to arrest her for, but she hadn’t actually done anything illegal this time. Recently. Well, except for the queen’s chambers and stolen paintings but surely they hadn’t connected that to her. Unless that gamemaster in the caves had seen her after all….

“You’ll get your answers when they want you to get your answers,” the burlier of the two told her and managed with his own strength to haul her his direction. 

Yoongi reached them and tried to grab at her, demanding, “What are you doing? Where are you taking her?”

“I need to speak to my lady, the princess,” Dulce told them. She tried to sound calm and confident since it was immediately apparent a wilting damsel approach wouldn’t work. 

“No.”

“What’s she done? Let her go, there’s some misunderstanding,” Yoongi said. Behind him the kitchen had gone eerily quiet and still, everyone frozen, watching this. Dulce realized there were in fact at least six guards here to grab her. She’d been so lost in her own worried thoughts, she hadn’t realized they were approaching. She’d been so overwhelmed by the kitchen but blind in her impatience that she’d lost her mind and now–

“I need to speak to the Prince then,” she said. “Tell him. Tell him I have important information he needs to–”

“Yeah I’m sure you do,” one chuckled. They were rough with her arms, careless of her small size between them. She thought they were going to rip her in half when they reached that door due to their poor coordination. 

“I will talk to the Prince,” Yoongi insisted, valiant in his efforts. “There’s some misunderstanding–”

“The prince is the one what ordered her arrest!” the second snapped. “For attempt to murder the king, so unless you want to join her in the cell, shut your mouth and get back to your little pots!”

Dulce went silent and stopped all resistance as they hauled her out of the kitchens and through the halls, the noise of their armor and boots making up for the absolute silence of everyone who froze to watch. 

Prince Seokjin had ordered her arrest? For attempting to kill the king?! The one thing she hadn’t yet done?

The palace dungeons were far down twisting black stone corridors, shiny and reeking with the stench of stale sea water. Dulce’s toes barely scraped the ground as they dragged her this way and that, careless of the strain on her shoulders and back, or the way her head glazed the stone wall as they thrust her through the cell door and slammed it shut behind her. They’d thrown her hard but she landed on her feet and sprang back to the small barred window in the heavy metal door.

“I need to talk to the Prince!” she said again. “It’s important! It’s a matter of life or death!”

“Sure it is,” the guard sneered. “Yours! Think the Prince will be sending his regards through the General so don’t worry, you’ll have someone to talk to soon. So long as you’re saying what he wants to hear.”

With that they slammed a small door shut over the opening. Dulce was left in total and complete darkness, not even a sliver of light from a non-existent window to let her see the outline of herself. 

It had all happened so fast. 

Well, apparently the prince was indeed awake.

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[aida-sparks]

Bobby's Advice to Eddie in 6x17 is Buddie-Coded

Eddie's decision to go on a date with Marisol at the end of 6x18 does not jive with the advice Bobby gave him in their talk at the hardware store in 6x17. I believe what Bobby said holds significance and will eventually still come into play.

Early in the 6x17 episode, when the 118 are on their way to a call, Eddie is teased for his disastrous attempts at finding a date. He says, "I just want what I had when I met Shannon. It was magic."

By the episode's end, Eddie finds himself alone in the hardware store, searching for glue for Christopher's school project when Marisol spots him. "Looking for something?" she asks. She points him to the right glue saying, "Works like magic." Eddie happily replies, "This is exactly what I was looking for." This implies that Eddie associates this chance encounter with Marisol as the "magic" he was looking for that he mentioned to the team—a similarity or familiarity, more of the same.

However, none of this resonates with what Bobby was trying to convey to him earlier in the hardware store - in the very same episode!

The two main points Bobby made to Eddie:

1.) "You can't compare what you had with what you think you're going to have." He advises Eddie to be open to whatever comes, even if it's not what he initially sought. This is evidently contrary to what he finds in Marisol. 2.) Bobby shares how he realized Athena was the one for him. He recalls a tough motorcycle call and how Athena "sat with him."

Who in Eddie's life fits both points 1 and 2 best? Buck! Buck is unlike what Eddie had with Shannon. Buck has been there for Eddie in some of his darkest moments, notably after his breakdown. Buck and Eddie mirror Athena and Bobby's dynamic perfectly when it comes to point 2.

Bobby seems so eager and attentive to Eddie in this scene, ready to help, hopeful that Eddie will figure something out, yet patient because Eddie hasn't fully connected the dots yet but needs to do so on his own.

The bottom line: Bobby's words carry weight. They mean something. Bobby's wisdom matters. The show wouldn't have included this scene and these words in the script if Bobby's advice meant nothing to the overall story still being written, right? Right?

We know Bobby is somewhat of a mastermind; consider his decision to send Chimney to the academy in 6x14, which ultimately helped both Chim grow as a leader and led to Chim bringing Ravi back to rejoin the 118.

When it comes to Buck and Eddie's relationship, I think Bobby quietly sees something between them that transcends beyond friendship. Something different. Something more. Even if Buck and Eddie haven't fully realized it themselves yet.

Bonus quip from this episode: When Eddie tells the team on the truck, "It was magic," Chimney smirks and says, "So you believe in magic?" (obviously a poke at Eddie's fervent belief that the Universe does not scream), Eddie responds, "I believe in chemistry." And we more than know he and Buck have the ultimate chemistry with each other. ;)

[alocon]

A Soulmate Who Wasn't Meant To Be [6] - Max Verstappen

written by alocon

Note: Name and Part One based on the song A Soulmate Who Wasn't Meant To Be by Jess Benko

Summary: After a lot of rumours on twitter, all is revealed in an episode of your podcast

Before you read: Use of Y/N (sorry!!), angst (kind of), THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS SENSITIVE CONTENT. LIST BELOW, PLEASE BE WARNED THAT IT WILL CONTAIN CHAPTER SPOILERS. Look after yourself

WARNINGS: Discussion of pregnancy, loss of a child, and other difficult subjects such as mental health and cheating

NOTE: There is social media at the end which is important to the story but I can summarise at the start of the next chapter so don't worry if you can't read this, you will get a summary next chapter x

fc: Blanca Soler

[Previous Part Here][The Masterlist]

A Soulmate Who Wasn't Meant To Be [Part Six] - MV¹

youruser

liked by maxverstappen1 and others

youruser: Hi all! I know that recently there have been a lot of rumours about the end of the 2018 season and my break up with Max, as well as allegations of me cheating on him. I have already discussed these rumours and clearly stated that it is not true, as has Max. However, I feel that you still haven't been given enough of an explanation on the situation as a whole and I am finally in a situation where I am able to talk about it. I am making this post for a fair warning that this episode of my podcast will contain themes which may be sensitive to some individuals. The warning list is written below...see more

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maxverstappen1: Proud of you for being able to discuss that

youruser: Thank you Max

user1: Any guests or just you?

youruser: Me, Max, Charles, Seb and Kimi

user2: Not her trying to make money out of this situation

youruser: As has been stated since I started my podcast in 2018, all money goes straight to charity. Earnings from this week's episode goes to The Pregnancy Association of Europe, a charity that looks into why pregnancy goes wrong, if there is a way to prevent it and gets help for those who suffer loss during pregnancy. (A/N: MADE UP CHARITY FOR THE STORY X)

charles_leclerc: Might've cried a little bit whilst filming this, but I think we all did.

maxverstappen1: I did

----

Pole Position Podcast - Episode 75: Let’s Talk Babies w. KR7, SV5, CL16 and MV33

Y: YOU, M: MAX, C: CHARLES, S: SEB, K: KIMI

The podcast started off with Seb sitting in the middle of the sofa. There were two people sitting beside him: Charles and Max. Then, on one of the mini seats to one side of the sofa was Kimi and to the other was an empty seat for you, you were behind the camera. 

Y: This is a very different episode of the podcast. Right, can we check our audio syncs up before we start? 

You placed your headphones on, counting down for everyone to clap. They did and the audio synced up perfectly from each mic. You returned to your seat. The table, which was usually bare apart from the notes from the episode, including questions and other things, had no paper, instead having a variety of foods. You looked at the camera. 

Y: Alright, hello everyone. Welcome to the Pole Position podcast. Hope you’re all doing well. This is episode 75 and I am here with four lovely people, rather than one or two like I usually do. So, one by one would you guys like to introduce yourselves? Char maybe it’s best if you start because you’ve done this many times before?

C: *he nodded* Hello everyone, I’m Charles Leclerc. I am a Formula One driver who drives for Scuderia Ferrari. I’ve been on this podcast a lot. I’m basically the co-host at this point.

You chuckled

M: Hi, I’m Max Verstappen, I am a Formula One driver who drives for Red Bull, and a 3 time world champion.

S: I’m Sebastian Vettel, a retired Formula One driver who has driven for BMW Sauber, Toro Rosso, Red Bull, Ferrari and Aston Martin. I am a 4 time world champion.

K: And I’m Kimi Raikkonen, also a retired Formula One driver who has driven for McLaren, Ferrari (twice), Lotus and Alfa Romeo… Did I miss one?

Y: Sauber, right? When they were sponsored by Red Bull and Petronas?

K: How did you remember that and I didn’t? You’re basically a child.

Y: How am I the child here, both of those two are younger than me.

C: Wait, we are?

M: Yes??? She’s August 23rd, I’m September 30th, you’re October 16th.

C: 1997? *He looked at you, still confused*

Y: Yes, how did you not know that? We’ve known each other since we were 3, Charles.

C: I thought you were ‘98 for some reason.

K: Come on, even I knew that.

You clapped your hands, getting everyone’s attention.

Y: Right, back on track. Today’s episode is a more emotional one. As you know, when I started my podcast, I didn't really properly explain why I started it. I kind of summarised it, I think I said that it was something recommended by my therapist to talk about life. But I’ve never really used it to talk about the deep stuff. So today we’re going to talk about why I actually started this podcast and what happened in late 2018.

Y: I know people will be wondering why I need 4 other people to explain this with me. After the end of 2018, my brain kind of suppressed most of the more minor details and stuff so some of it I don’t remember much of, which is why these 4 are here, to kind of put all of the pieces together. So… Where do we start? With the breakup or the tests?

C: What one happened first?

M: You told me that the tests happened on Thursday evening so maybe the breakup.

Y: Alright. Max, do you want to take the lead on this one?

He nodded.

M: Alright so I broke up with Y/N on the Thursday morning before the Brazilian Grand Prix in 2018, aka Media Day. In hindsight, that was a really shitty thing to do. Everyone was really surprised by it because I absolutely was a dickhead when we split up. However, what I should’ve done is been completely honest and discussed my reasoning. I broke up with Y/N because my dad threatened me with an inappropriate sexual photo of her which he had somehow got his hands on. Likely egged on by Christian. I didn’t know how he got his hands on it, I don’t know what happened, but he had threatened to have it leaked if I didn’t break up with her, so I deemed it for the best and I did it. But the real issue was that I didn’t tell her why. I didn’t keep her in my life, I completely pushed her away. Again, a beyond stupid mistake, possibly the worst of my life. 

Y: Yeah, so that happened, it impacted me pretty badly. 

S: I think that’s an understatement there, no?

K: Just a bit. I remember her completely breaking down to me over it straight after it happened because she didn’t want to worry you two and she didn’t want to ruin Max’s friendship with Charles.

Seb, Charles and Max all looked at you. This was new information for the three of them. 

M: I’m still, genuinely really sorry about that. I feel so bad about the way I did it. 

Y: Max I’ve already forgiven you for it.

M: And yet I will apologise until the day we die if you let me.

C: ANYWAYS, so then in the evening I get a text from her basically saying “Hey, can you come over, it’s kind of important.” And I know this woman’s tendency to underreact in situations so when she said kind of, I took it as “likely very important” and headed straight there.

Y: Do I underreact or do you overreact?

M: Both

K: Both

S: Both

Y: Great.

You reached for a tortilla chip that was in a bowl on the table and took a bite after dipping it in salsa.

Y: So Charles comes over, asks what's wrong without hesitating. I didn’t even get a hi out, just opened the door and boom. Question. So I explained to him how I had been feeling kind of weird and I’d been feeling sick and tired all the time but it had been happening for a couple weeks and I knew it wasn’t sickness. That’s as far as I remember before the tests.

C: So I was like “oh, that’s weird. Have you had your period recently?” You said no but it didn’t usually anyway, I don’t know how it works.

Y: Basically, a side effect of the contraceptive pill that I take is that it stops my period. So either way I wouldn’t know just from that sign.

M: You still take it?

Y: Yeah, I do.

M: Are you actually getting laid?

Y:... Anyways, moving on.

Max laughed at that as Charles continued talking.

C: So, because it would probably cause some media attention if she went to buy tests or I went, we asked Hanna to and she was more than happy to. So she and Seb came over with pregnancy tests and dinner and like a LOT of ice cream just in case because we decided that we can risk our trainers yelling at us to cheer her up. I was not aware that her and Max had broken up by this point. I don’t think any of us except those two were.

K: And me.

C: And Kimi. 

S: So anyways, me and Hanna come over and we sit on the bed and talk whilst Y/N is downing water like there is no tomorrow, you know, so she could take the tests. And then she did the tests and we spent the next 5 minutes talking whilst we ate some of our food and then she checked the test and she was pregnant. We were all happy for her because, and correct me if I’m wrong here, guys, weren’t you two like kind of casually trying at this point?

Max looked at you and you smiled, indicating that he could answer.

M: Kind of. We were to the point where we wouldn’t complain about being parents so it was a kind of situation of “if it happens, it happens but if not, so what”.

C: So then she got a little upset and we were like “why are you sad, weren’t you guys okay if this happened?” and that’s when she told us that they had split up earlier that day. So, really, like god awful timing. 

Y: The rest of that evening was just kind of like them cheering me up. I tried to contact Max but he had blocked me, which I didn’t really understand at that point.

M: It was so I could not call or text because I didn’t want the photo to be leaked.

You nodded.

Y: So I think it was me, Charles, Seb, Hanna, Kimi, Minttu, Lew, and Val, except Lewis and Valtteri didn’t actually know. The others did though. I think, before this podcast gets released, the only people who know are the people here, Christian Horner, Fred Vasseur, Hanna, Minttu, my mother…

M: Christian knew?

Y: Yeah, we’ll get into that later, though. And Fred knew because I had to call him to be like “I have to go to the hospital about this tomorrow, I can’t race this weekend. And he’s family to me. So rather than racing, I went to the hospital. Hanna and Minttu came with me. Turns out I was 8 weeks along. I was like “shit, if I have this baby I’m going to miss so much racing” but apparently I was safe to drive after the 20 week mark until like the start of the 8th month as long as I was more careful than usual and got check ups after every race. SO overall I would’ve missed maybe like 6 races, so I was like, right. I should tell Christian, you know? Warn him. So I told Christian and he instantly started complaining, being like “What if this what if that? This is why we should’ve hired a man to drive”, that kind of stuff. But I think that was the heat of the moment. But then he doesn’t change and he tells my mother for some reason because he knows her and she kicks off and basically disowns me and tells me that I am not making a good choice and that I’m crazy and stuff. Fun. Anyways, going into December, I was really really overwhelmed. I don’t know what it was like from an outside perspective but it was shit from mine. 

K: Terrifying.

You all turned to look at Kimi. The entire 20 minutes of the podcast so far, he hadn’t had much to say, which you got because he’s Kimi Raikkonen.

K: From an outsider perspective it was terrifying. From my perspective, at least. Seeing the way you were so stressed and you wouldn’t eat as much. You were no longer happy, you were constantly anxious, even about how you looked, if people could tell, if you weren’t looking as nice even though you looked fine. It was really scary seeing you go down such a path, especially after everything your mother said to you. 

You sniffled slightly, getting emotional as you never really publicly opened up about this stuff. Charles and Seb agreed at this point.

Y: So then, a couple weeks into December, I can’t remember the exact date.

C: December 11th.

Y: December 11th, I was feeling strange. I had really bad stomach pain. Like awful. I just figured, for some reason, that it was because of the fact I hadn’t eaten much yet that day so I decided to sleep it off, see if I felt better in the morning. And, before we get into this, this may be slightly graphic and it’s a lot more graphic than I described to Max and Seb and Kimi so please be warned. I wake up in the morning, about 3am. And I sat up in my bed and I felt something wet on my lower body. So I was like “What the fuck” and I turn on the light and, uhm.

You paused, taking a deep breath in an attempt not to cry. You felt a hand slip into yours and squeeze. You looked to see Max looking at you with those soft, beautiful eyes. He was looking at you in the most gentle of ways. You felt yourself tipping over the edge slightly, voice cracking as you began to speak again.

Y: I turned on my light and I just saw red. Like, my bedsheets, which were usually white, were just red. Everything was red. I don’t remember too much after that, other than just feeling numb. Charles had been staying with me at that point. Max had just moved out and Charles’ apartment had flooded so I invited him to stay in my house until the apartment was sorted. I don’t really remember much, I don’t know if you do, Char.

C: I do. May I?

You nodded.

C: So I wake up because I hear a scream. Like not a happy one. Just a shocked sounding scream. So of course I went straight into her room to see if she was okay and the lower half of her bed was covered in blood, her shorts, her legs were all just covered in blood. It was, excuse the explanation, like something out of a horror movie. And she just… kind of sat there. Frozen. It was like she couldn’t move or speak, she just sat there. Kind of void of all emotion on her face other than her crying. I remember taking her phone and calling her baby doctor person, because she gave her phone for emergencies. And she answered and I apologised for calling so late and explained the situation because of the amount of blood just… Didn’t look normal. And she said to take her to the hospital if I was concerned. So I did and we went to the hospital and they sorted everything out. I don’t remember exactly what it was but either way we went home and we spent the next week or so just camping in, eating junk food, trying to relax and at least attempting to be calmer. I think it wasn’t until the new year that you told Christian. 

Y: Yeah, I started therapy like a week after the miscarriage. And then, on the 29th of December was when you two, Han and Mina found out, I think?

S: Yeah, I remember Hanna sitting down when we got there.

K: You being late, as usual

S: Yeah, yeah. So Hanna asked how you and nugget were, which is what we had nicknamed the baby and you just kind of cracked. You started crying and they asked what was wrong and that’s when you told us that you had miscarried. So we went out and tried to make sure you had the best day of your life. 

Y: That’s where the photo came from as well. The photo of me and the “mystery guy” whose face was blanked out was just a photo of me and Charles hugging because I got a little upset. I will post the photo here and if you’re listening on Spotify or Apple music, the screenshot of the story with the date attached is on my Instagram story highlights.

Y: So then I told Christian and he told my mother once again and also then proceeded to use it against me. BUT that’s all we have time for today. If anyone wants, we can do an episode purely based on my RBR treatment. Just let us know. Have a lovely day, I’ve been your host Y/N and we will see you next time.

Max, Kimi, Seb and Charles all said goodbye before the episode ended.

-Word Count: 2.6k-

Hi all!! Here's part 6, more drama unfolding. This story will continue to slander Christian Horner btw. In this story he is an awful person because it made the plot better x Anyways hope you enjoyed Max going on a podcast (well, two) because she asked him to so it was worth going on. Have a good day x Alocon

Taglist: @c-losur3 @itsjustkhaos @reidsworld @d3kstar

[canmom]

nooooo stop writing sexy letters i'm trying to beat you at chrononauts

as mentioned a little earlier, today I read This Is How You Lose The Time War by Amal El-Mohtar and Max Gladstone...!

Before we dive into the spoilers, a brief word about what this book is...

TIHYLTW is a semi-epistolary novel about time travellers Red and Blue and, essentially, their enemies-to-lovers romance as they play spy games across the broad, branching timeline, acting respectively on behalf of the ultra-high-tech 'Agency' and the biopunk 'Garden'. Each chapter consists of a brief vignette depicting one or the other at their work, ending with the discovery of a letter (in some abstract, poetic form like a dead fish) from their counterpart, followed by the contents of that letter.

A lot of the structure of this book is explained by the knowledge that this was written as a kind of chain-writing project: El-Mohtar and Gladstone hashed out the broad premise but then alternated writing the chapters, with Gladstone taking on the role of Red and El-Mohtar as Blue. Each would respond to the other's letter and advance the story a little bit. In essence, then, this is also something like a play-by-post roleplaying game. I have played both chain-writing games and play-by-post roleplaying so this all ends up feeling quite familiar.

What's remarkable, given that approach, is that this book manages to maintain a generally consistent voice and clear narrative progression. But knowing how it's written still gives you some insight, because you can read it in the light of improv comedy. For example, when Red describes Blue's world, so far undefined, as 'viney-hivey elfworlds', this is what in improv terms we call an offer: you define something and hand it off to the other person to iterate or play on it somehow. In this case, El-Mohtar has Blue gently rebuff this as 'full of silly stereotypes' and ask for a more genuine reply about her own life (this is early in the romance, where they are expressing mutual curiosity which also serves as exposition); Gladstone can oblige and give us Red's backstory.

In some cases, the fingerprint of chainwriting is very obvious. One chapter has Blue sign off 'see you in London next' - Gladstone responds to this by setting the next chapter in an alternate-world city called 'London Next', 'the kind of London other Londons dream'. This wordplay, reinterpreting the last entry in an unexpected light, is such a blatant chainwriting move.

Two writers who vibe, with a back-and-forth, is probably about the ideal scale for this kind of game. At university I played chain-writing games in a large group, where each player got to contribute only one section to the story; this too often became a 'too many cooks' situation, whose pacing would suffer from the lack of larger structure. As a player in that kind of game, you'd have to balance leaving your own fingerprint by adding elements to the story, and advancing what had already been written (I very much tended to the former). Too often it would fall to the last person in the chain to try and hastily tie the story up in some sort of resolution.

Play-by-post roleplaying games don't have that 'one entry per player' limit, but the problems of time zones/availability and the general principle to not 'godmod' meant that often the game would either die pretty quickly or turn into a situation where each person was essentially writing their own story in isolation, with minimal interaction with others. Which can be fun: a collection of web serials on a theme is a perfectly valid writing project. But it's not really a collab in this way.

A project limited to just two writers, on the other hand, can build up a rhythm, and this is what happens here. A lot of the charm of this novel is the playfulness of the back and forth, not just in the letters themselves, but also in the settings introduced and gradual expansion and iteration of the concepts. This feels like it would be a tremendously fun game to play (ehem).

Now, let's apply the Spoiler Zip, and talk about some details.

So this is essentially a spy story; it is a story of the two characters, both prodigy agents, mutually defecting from the Time War to elope together. Though there's plenty of drama when they get found out, death fakeouts, a kind of classic gay personality synthesis...

Most of the chapters end with a 'Seeker' appearing to swallow up the remnants of the letter that has been read. With 'hunger' becoming a symbol of the relationship in the letters, and the time travel theme, I guessed that this character would somehow represent a synthesis of the two characters retracing their relationship. Well, almost!

Broadly, the dénouement is: Blue strikes a (rather vaguely defined) decisive move in the Time War, but Red's superiors figure out some of the situation and set her up to entrap Blue; Red appears to have killed her (with a letter naturally), but she goes rogue and attempts to assimilate enough of Blue's being (through the letters) to enter the Garden and innoculate her against the poison at birth, thus allowing Blue to turn out to be alive and save Red from space prison. So it's not quite another 2010s SFF story in which a lesbian carries the ghost of her dead girlfriend in her head but... it sorta is, innit.

As might be evident from that paragraph, the time travel model in this story is definitely of the 'timey-wimey' variety. It's not really about that; the logic is much more poetic than it is, well, logical. Characters move very freely 'upthread' (towards the distant past) and 'downthread' (towards the scifi future). Their adventures tend to take them to fairly recognisable bits of history, with a reasonable sprinkling of mythology.

What they're actually doing in these places is broadly speaking similar to the card game Chrononauts if you've ever played that, attempting to shape the futures by changing the past, but generally speaking in subtle ways - we're given various examples of saving crucial people from disasters, inspiring inventions, and so on. Of course, they must have a reason for this subtle approach: in this case, 'chaos' is anathema to both sides.

Our characters, as superspies constantly assuming different identities and assassinating people and all sorts of other things, are pretty disconnected from the people whose lives they mess with - something that becomes more explicit later, with the remark that the work involves, often, killing and saving the same people in different timelines. As such, there are few particularly well-defined characters in the story besides Red and Blue - the only real exception being Red's scary, nameless Commandant. Now and then we'll get the allusion to a historical figure, such as Genghis Khan, but only rarely. These bitches have eyes only for each other. Their interactions are frequently compared to a game (mostly go, sometimes a little chess), and the places they pass through are relevant largely insofar as they constitute moves in the game.

This is where I think the comparison to Italo Calvino that I made earlier breaks down. Here, the setting is in large part colour: material for the playful romantic interactions of our two spies. There are definitely some imaginative setpieces - I liked the computer cult of Hack, and the prehistoric valley of bones - but in contrast to Invisible Cities where the relationship between Marco Polo and Kublai Khan is a frame story and the vignettes about cities are the main focus, here the balance is opposite.

On that front of setting, I think I found the factions themselves a little insubstantial. Of course, the point of the novel is in large part that their differences are generally superficial and should be transcended - but beyond that their natures are fundamentally opposed, we never get a huge sense of why the Agency and Garden are battling over the timelines. One is plant themed, the other is robot themed. One plays the long game, the other likes finesse. But both Blue and Red are in some major way alienated from their society - indeed, Red even suggests this is the major qualification for becoming a time agent in her society. They fight the Time War because... they were constructed to do it, because it's a relief from existential despair, and later, because it's sexy to fight a Time War with someone?

If interpreted as an enemies to lovers arc, well, it's not really that. More of a strangers to lovers arc; there is little to not antagonism outside of the occasional bravado about who will win the game. They're really the ultimate u-haul lesbians. But perhaps that's putting a foreign frame on it. 'Courtship through scifi strategy duel leading to transformation through synthesis' is literally a premise I wrote too, I can't possibly complain about it!

I refuse to add another 'lyrical' to the pile, but I can't deny the craft on display here. Still, sometimes the allusions feel a bit too 'local' to my time and place to belong to truly alien beings. Sometimes this is lampshaded - for example, in the first letter from Blue, Ozymandias is quoted, but immediately described as an 'overanthologised work of the early Strand 6 nineteenth century'. That sets up a callback later in one of Red's letter. Another time, Blue recommends Red a fantasy novel written in the 50s, remarking that it is (somehow) the same in every timeline it appears. It's tricky to know how to call this - if the allusions were made up or too obscure, you'd lose the playful way in which they are invoked, yet having a strange transhuman future creature throw out references that feel like they belong to a 20th century university student feels like it familiarises a little too much.

Some of the wordplay also feels... how to put this. The example I'm thinking of is that the characters start riffing on a 19th century etiquette book to help Red get the hang of letter-writing, and this makes reference to a scented seal (wax thing that is used to close an envelope). So Red embeds her next letter inside a seal (marine mammal). My natural assumption is that the characters are speaking $mysterious_future_language, but this kind of pun makes it impossible to read them as speaking anything other than English, right?

But that's the tone of this novel. It's constantly teasing. The Utena influence (I'm told Gladstone is a fan) is certainly strong.

There is something, too, to the way that Red's arc is to step away from the cyborg state where all her inconvenient organs and biological needs can be shut off, and expose herself to what we could call more human experiences - hunger, crying. This is clearly deliberate and rich in metaphorical valence (she is becoming more akin to Blue, and more distant from her utilitarian origin), but she's also coming towards us. This isn't a flaw in the novel, but more a limitation of the medium: we can only see through our own experiences, and thus to write a comprehensible emotional arc for an alien being, we must build our own 'bridges' (to use the novel's metaphor, see what I did there you fuckers) to their experience, and make them more human...

Taken as a spy story, I think the issue is perhaps that the characters are too important. Far from cogs in a vast, grinding geopolitical machine, it feels like Red and Blue are the most important people in all the universes, the only players that matter on either side. Their courtship is inevitable - they just don't need all these other chumps, who can't see how sexy it is to write emotional letters to your rival spy. Everyone else is basically an NPC.

As much as I rib it though, this was basically the perfect train book, and made that five hour journey pass in a breeze. I don't know that I'd really put it on Calvino tier, but I'd still definitely recommend giving it a read, it's a good playful book about lesbians doing a hilariously overcomplicated courtship and what's not to love about that.

As a final addendum - I've been gently reminded that El-Mohtar is 'the prototypical bi woman married to a man who goes to great pains to constantly remind everyone she's not straight', which, you know, fair enough lmao. If my bi granny hadn't married a guy (eight years her senior, no it did not go well), then I wouldn't exist! I just think it's kind of funny.

(and ftr? I don't actually give a shit whether the people who write a book belong to the 'right' identity category. On the contrary, I think everyone should write a gay romance at least once, it's good for the soul, maybe you'll realise you like it more than you thought you would, eh~)

[ladyantiheroine]

Rewatching Batman and Batman Returns back-to-back and it's just reminding me why I like Selina as a love interest better than Vicki.

I mean, anyone who follows me already knows I'm a batcat fan, and I don't find Vicki that compelling outside of the TellTale Games version of her. But even beyond my own preferences, Selina is just a better match for Bruce in the Burtonverse overall.

The problem with Vicki is that she's so distant from Bruce's world. Just as Bruce explains in Batman Returns, she couldn't reconcile the two parts of him; Bruce Wayne and Batman. She had "difficulty with his duality," to paraphrase Selina. Part of it is Bruce's unwillingness to open up to another person, but I never got the vibe that Vicki liked Bruce being Batman. When she discovers his identity, she says to him, "I've loved you since I met you, but I don't know what to think of all this." It seemed like she wanted him to just be a normal guy, which of course, he can't be. Even at the end of the movie, she seems to accept Bruce as Batman begrudgingly, as something to tolerate rather than understand.

(At the end of the movie, Alfred tells her that Bruce will be "a little bit late" and she responds with "I'm not a bit surprised." It's meant to be a cute jab, but to me it just seems like she's passively accepted that Bruce's alter ego will always take precedent over her, and that's not very romantic to me)

On top of that, their date scenes are kind of bland, they don't really get to know each other that well, and they don't seem to have much in common. Overall, Vicki is written like a stock love interest, a damsel in distress to scream until Batman saves her. There's not much glue keeping them together.

But Selina on the other hand? She knows what it's like to have a darker alter ago. She knows what it's like to be traumatized and hurt by the criminals of Gotham (Max Shrek and Penguin). She knows what it's like to be a freak. Bruce himself says so in their movie: they're the same, "split down the center." When she finds out Bruce is Batman, she's upset not because she can't reconcile the two halves of him (like Vicki) but because it puts them on opposite sides of the law ("Does this mean we have to start fighting?"). They are perfectly matched but kept apart by outside forces and conflicting priorities, rather than other than lack of communication and compatibility.

On top of that, Bruce and Selina have way more chemistry (bolstered by Keaton and Pfeiffer's performances). On their date, they talk deeply to each other, about their pasts and their desires. They seem to innately connect in a way I never felt with Vicki, who seems to beg Bruce to be normal while he seems borderline bored with her half the time. With Vicki, it's like he's acting out a script. With Selina, it's an organic spark.

Of course, Selina does end up leaving at the end of their story, because she's been pinned down by men for too long and needs to go off on her own. Unlike Vicki, she's not built for the normal "fairy tale castle" life. And because he loves her, Bruce follows the old truth that if you love someone, set them free.

But despite this ending, I buy the tragic love story of Bruce and Selina more than the straightforward Hollywood ending of Bruce and Vicki. The former felt like soulmates torn apart by circumstances, the latter felt like two people who were never going to work in the first place because they weren't compatible.

If you ask me, Vicki was just a stepping stone for Bruce on his way to Selina. She taught him a lesson: He needs someone who will understand him fully and join him in the night, not simply wait for him to return and act "normal" again.

The big difference is this: When the bat signal hits the sky, Vicki is going to stand back and worry.

But Selina Kyle? She's going to grab her whip and join Batman on the battle field by his side.

And at the end of the day, I'd much rather see a badass power couple working together as a team rather than a worried wife sitting at home while her husband goes off and saves the day.

[tojiscrack]

on my weekly re-read of liar liar, and i was GOING TO pull an all nighter and finish it all, but i feel asleep before i could 😞😞

ANYWAYS!! i find it so funny that throughout the first chapter (and even later chapters, but not as much) its mentioned (and made very obvious) that y/n is a little devil child, that can be too much to handle, but never w megumi. like, idk how to explain it, but hes never thought shes “too much”, and lets her do what she wants, just puts his input in (like when she switched classes, he didnt feel overly annoyed by it, just told her that she was gonna get in trouble) (i might be wrong about this LMAO) youve written them in a way that they balance each other PERFECTLY, like they are genuinely soulmates.

the end scene of the first chapter is oddly one of my favourite parts of the fic, because we get other characters (albeit, minor characters, but wtv) opinions on them, and youve written them exactly like how they describe it. they keep each other in line, and thats why they work so well together.

anyways!!! i love this fanfic so sosososooos much!!! i dont understand how this isnt more popular because???? ITS SO GOOD???? literally how arent people falling in love with your writing within the first 1k words??

(also i meant to include this in a previous ask, but i forgot lol, BUT ONE OF MY FAV DUOS IN THE FIC (and in canon lfmao) is megumi and nobara?? everytime they’re together i genuinely laugh, you nailed their characters and character dynamic)

liar, liar masterlist here:

INCOMING YAP SESSION CUZ THIS ASK GOT ME SUPER DUPER EXCITED KSJSJDIWJ

WEEKLY reread? girl, stop, you’re gonna notice all the typos i cba to get rid of 🫣

HAHAHA, NO STOP, I HAVEN’T HAD ANYONE MENTION THE WHOLE ‘DEVIL CHILD’ THING SINCE THE FIRST TWO CHAPTERS WERE RELEASED 😭 and that, my friend, was months ago 🌝

so i’m so excited to just talk about this omggg!!! 😫💘

yes indeed 😤 megumi would most likely say she’s sm to handle, but really, he lowkey enjoys it. it’s the only time he can be an accomplice witness to such foolish behaviour, and not be reprimanded for it as much ‘cause he just has her to fall back on and blame. he won’t ever stop her, per se, but he’ll tell her once or twice ‘whatever you’re doing, it’s not gonna work’ or ‘don’t be dumb’, and think he’s done his part before being influenced by her 💀

‘i might be wro-’ stfu you’re right and you know it 🙄❤️

and you’re also right in it not being mentioned as much when they’re older. no, i did not forget to add it, that was done intentionally for two reasons:

they’re older now, so as much as she does what she wants with him, she’s a lot more tame than she was as a child. that doesn’t mean she ever regrets the stupid things she’s done (except for the whole mermaid thing, that is a lifelong regret she’ll always have 😭)

the idea that she’s such a menace has been established enough over the years to the point where no one feels the need to voice it. new characters probably would — someone like miss b who was introduced in the middle school chapter — but even then, she was exposed to the more tame versions of the chaotic duo. so everyone kinda silently acknowledges it, and only during crazy moments (like the tragic helicopter incident of 2016, rip satoru/suguru’s will to live 😔) will it actually be voiced (like ogi mistakenly believing that y/n didn’t start any of the nonsense that occurred during the incident, and that was mentioned cuz of the fact that she’s famously known to be so incredibly out of control).

the bonus scene for the first chapter was my fav to write as wellll (tho arguably, i say that about so many scenes, so the value of this statement is probably worth nothing 💀). bonus scenes were initially meant to be ONLY from other people’s pov, but i noticed how so many things from y/n and megumi’s childhood tgth are littered around the story, and that the only way you could ever get any insight of them is through the bonus scene since the chapters are too long to add flashbacks AND bonus scenes. i could always do a separate set of oneshots for them, but i don’t have the time for that (yk this through my horrid updating schedule) 😟

but i am so glad you’re telling me what you enjoyed — and more importantly, being specific about it. it lets me put into perspective how the later chapters (tho already planned) should be set out. your feedback means the world to me, and you deserve a million set of kisses every night for them <3333

‘i love this fanfic sosososo much!!! i don’t understand how this isn’t more popular because??? IT’S SO GOOD???’

okay brb, gonna go and find my right to exist and have the perfect life when cutie pies like you grace this earth 😖💞💓💗💞

maybe one day it’ll get bigger 😊 if that day ever comes, i’ll remember my og readers. i’ll remember the support i was given from them. i’ll remember people like you, who continuously flood my inbox with enough love to pull yank me out of writer’s block and squeeze out another chapter, how because of your long and juicy asks/messages/dms, the cycle of writing i have going on here continues, and i feel more and more proud that i even developed such a fic to begin with ❤️

‘literally how aren’t people falling in love with your writing after the first 1k words’ — errr probably ‘cause the first 1k words were just y/n trying (and failing) to explain what happens in her horror stories without stuttering 💀 LMFAO, SORRY 😭 i’d fall asleep on that carpet if i were the kids surrounding her, and they went to listen willingly.

but ugh, that’s so nice of you, i’m gonna siwjosnwidjwjd

AND OMG YOU’RE SO RIGHT

like everyone talks about yuji/nobara, or yuji/megumi, bUT WHAT ABOUT MY BEANS NOBARA/MEGUMI? they have a level of deep understanding with each other in canon (and in my fic, which will be addressed CHAPTERSSSS later) that i’d love to yap about, but i’ve already yapped enough, like you’re probably cringing rn i’m sorry 😭 another time, maybe 😔

[hms-no-fun]

What was it like going from writing Homestuck characters throughout Godfeels to your original characters? Was it intimidating after so much time spent with just the Homestuck cast? I believe Lenore was the first to appear in a minor role at first, but then you have the Moon war crew, the Halo's AI and Epigone all take center stage as villains (especially those last two), but I guess you could also argue June's headmates were kind of OCs? How was it writing them in the beginning compared to now?

honestly, i never found it particularly intimidating. when i started Godfeels, i never planned to write beyond John and Jade and Terezi because they were the only characters whose voices i had a handle on. as the series continued and became more of a full-cast affair, that was the most intimidating part. learning how to write a convincing Dirk or Jane or Roxy or even Rose. the key i think is that Homestuck characters are a collection of traits which express personality in a few key ways. this is true of all fiction but it's an explicit narrative mechanism in Homestuck proper. i used to talk a fair bit about narrative building blocks, the ways Homestuck is perfectly designed to train you in the act of remixing characters. like, if i said "Jade Lalonde" to you, you'd probably have a pretty clear idea of what that character looks like despite the fact that this character does not exist in Homestuck. this is the nature of HS's hyperflexible mythology. the hardest part was just learning how these characters speak and why, which required a lot of revisiting the original comic and a multitude of drafts, and i still don't think i really got them down until well into GF3.1. the intimidation mostly vanished once i felt like i could set these characters up in a room and let them play off each other without me having to pause every few minutes to question their authenticity.

honestly, bringing OCs into Godfeels felt pretty natural. i understood the existing cast and the world they existed well enough that it was easy to invent interesting oppositions. of course it helps that, going into 3.1, i knew we were always heading towards The Land of Many Unique New Guys. i wanted to do new things with the existing cast and break from the established patterns of the series, and that meant blowing shit up and changing the status quo. most of the fiction i've written in my life has been original, so really, once i gave myself permission to do so, inventing new guys was practically second nature. frankly, this setting (particularly with the EWL) is a guy factory, because it takes HS's hyperflexible mythology as a foundation and then metaphysically incorporates the existence of MSPFAs and fan sessions to expand the possibilities. Homestuck characters are equations whose variables are remarkably elastic, so it's quite natural to shuffle the old variables around and swap some out with new ones. i think it's fun trying to find a type of guy that we've never seen in Homestuck but that still feels like a Homestuck character. the OCs i've brought into the fold in GF3 aren't independent creations that i shoehorned into this universe-- they were designed for and with this universe.

and then yeah, i mean, going back to GF2 even before Risk and Dare entered the scene, June herself is functionally an OC because she's a fusion of June and Vriska. that's the entire conflict of the story, is that suddenly John's become June and she's a Vriska now. i used to joke that she was my self-insert until a handful of haters decided to canonize it and use that as an excuse to write Godfeels off entirely (which is probably for the best tbh). really, i just wanted to relitigate the Vriscourse through the lens of a human character, explore the appeal of having a Vriska-like grip on your own agency and the ways that might turn out to be destructive. the hard part was finding a realistic middle ground between John and Vriska. by the time we got to 3.1 and the plural arc really kicked off, doing the headmates almost came as a relief. i'm having a lot of fun writing Dare because they're kind of the first time in this story i've actually been able to write a straightforwardly John character. it all feels fairly natural since, like i said, the entire process is supported by Homestuck itself.

when it comes to the Upsilon kids, i was inspired by the Omega kids of HS2/HSBC fame. i originally planned GF3 to be a mirror of the post-canon project, and that meant responding to their OCs with my own. but i didn't want that response to be linear! i didn't want them to feel like Another Group Of Homestuck Kids, nor an obvious direct response to the Omegas. GF3 is about escaping your normal and learning to live among new people, so i was very deliberate in keeping the direct-relations to a minimum. i'm sick of everything being about the characters we already know. it makes sense for HS2/HSBC to have the Omegas be the descendants of the main cast, so i figured i'd let them have that. the closest direct response is Edie, who felt necessary not just for the existence of Yiffy, but also because of Kitty from Kittyquest and the various other alternate interpretations of Jade's daughter that followed. i like the idea of "Jade's daughter" being a uniquely responsive variable, someone who is paracanonically defined by the absence of singularity. then came Dana, modeled after Dirk precisely because of his antagonistic role in GF2. they're both parts of an ongoing conversation with Homestuck-- OCs yes, but not entirely original either. Lenore happened as a result of my involvement with Vast Error, which is actually a huge inspiration for GF3 in general for how it takes Homestuck's template and changes many of the rules without feeling fundamentally unstuck from that context. that their version of Sburb is called The Game and operates on an entire different yet somewhat familiar logic is what gave me the idea to explore the Universe Engine as a system of infinite variables that the EWL must directly respond to. it can be anything. it can have anyone. and because Repiton is existentially cut off from Homestuck, i liked the idea of Lenore being this lone escapee from VE's continuity who's totally unable to go back or learn anything about her home that she didn't already knew before she left. last to the party was Alphi, who needed to be a combo breaker. six-armed muppet dressed like a prep! just an entire alien. she's by far been the most difficult character to figure out, but doing so was part of what gave me confidence in the Upsilons conceptually. these four characters should not get along. they are diametrically opposed in many respects, in stark opposition to the other kid groups who typically enter the story already friendly.

so you can see, then, how the act of writing the Upsilons is also an act of commenting upon the Betas/Alphas/Omegas. i want to see what it takes to make four people who hate each other fall in love with each other. i want to see what rhymes and what opposes. the fundamental challenge hasn't changed-- it's the characterization. once i've found their voices, the rest follows on naturally. everything new in this story is built from the bones of what came before. that's the entire project, top to bottom. yes we're in a completely new setting with a bunch of new characters after obliterating the previous status quo, but it IS still Homestuck. the hardest part of selling all these new guys was simply developing the circumstances which allowed them to emerge. in my own head i've always seen the gargantuan wordcount of Chapter 8 as the necessary cost of fulfilling that ambition. hopefully now, with 3.2 A1 and B1 finally in the can, you can see for yourself how despite all that's changed, Godfeels is still having the same fundamental conversation today that it was in 2019. albeit with a few new arguments :)

[steviestits]

My God Longs For Me - Part 1.2

Written for an anon prompt, which can be read in its entirety on this fic’s masterpost.

Pairing: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson Rating: T (E for later chapters) Summary: When Steve was a child, he was abducted and brought to the cult, the Hellfire Club, as he was prophesied to be the wife of the dark forest god they worshiped. Steve enjoyed his time there, especially the time he spent with the cult leader's nephew, Eddie. This wasn't meant to last however as Steve was eventually returned to his parents. Thanks to the deprogrammer that his parents hired and time, Steve has mostly forgotten the cult that raised him. That is until he goes on a camping trip and his friends start to get murdered one by one with the only connection between the killings being the ritual offerings to the cult's gods and the strange dreams Steve has before each one. Now Steve must piece together his past to discover who is murdering his friends in the present. (Inspired heavily by various horror movies and is a horror story itself.) Trigger Warning: F-Slur Usage Eventual Trigger Warning: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Ritual Sacrifices, Gore, Mpreg, Body Horror, Monster Fucking, Feminization, Brainwashing

(Link to previous part)

Which was how Steve found himself here, driving with his so-called “friends” deep into the middle of nowhere. To be honest, the last thing Steve wanted to do was be stuck anywhere with these assholes, but his dad had heard about the plans from Tommy, and insisted that Steve go. His dad said that it would be good to have one last hurrah before Steve had to settle into the company and didn’t have any time left for fun, leaving no room for argument while cementing that this trip was Steve’s last bit of freedom before his dad was looking over shoulder full-time.

They’d been on the road most of the day, and the sun was starting to set. If they had taken anyone else’s car, Steve would’ve pulled over to the side of the road to let maybe Billy or Jason drive, but no, they had insisted on taking Steve’s car since his was the better among the five of them. Steve had a rule, though. No one drove his baby except him, and given that was the only way they could get Steve to bring his car, they’d agreed. So, instead of switching drivers, Steve turned into the parking lot of a dingy looking, bricked motel, where he could rest before making the last leg of their journey then pulled into a space in front of the main office.

Everyone scrambled out of the car, all wanting to pee or raid the vending machine, leaving Steve by himself to book the motel rooms. He sighed, while running a hand over his exasperated face, frustrated with their lack of responsibility. Though, on second thought, it was for the best since the others could be real dicks when they wanted to be, which could get them kicked out and start their camping trip earlier than intended on the side of the road.

Steve walked through the glass door into the main office, causing a bell to ring overhead. The sound caught the attention of the woman at the front desk, who turned towards Steve as he approached. She looked just as rundown as the motel with her straggly blonde hair matching the yellowed tiles and wallpaper perfectly. Her faded pink dress stood out against the outline of the rusted keys that lined the walls under barely legible plates with the room numbers on them. Pale fingers curled around a black pen, preparing to book Steve into the system.

“How many rooms?” she asked in a nasally voice that grated on Steve’s ears.

“One double room,” Steve replied.

The five of them weren’t strangers to sharing a room like this as they’d all been on sports teams together since high school and knew how to bunk up during away games. For the odd man out, they’d probably draw straws to see who slept in the car. He honestly didn’t think there’d be a problem until he noticed that the woman was eyeing him suspiciously.

With a furrowed brow, he asked, “Is something wrong?”

“There’s five of you.”

“Yeah, one of us plans to sleep in the car.”

“There’s only two beds.”

“Okay...?”

“You boys aren’t faggots, are you? Because I refuse to let that type stay at my establishment. If you’re looking for a place to fuck, you can look elsewhere.”

“We’re not-” Steve gaped at her, at a loss for words. “None of us- We’re straight.”

“Then why are you only booking one room?” she asked, her voice dripping with venomously disgust. “Only faggots would book one room for five people.”

Rubbing his forehead, he replied, “Fine, we’ll take two double rooms. The fifth person will sleep in the car. Happy?”

The woman nodded and took down Steve’s information in the guest book before she retrieved the room keys from behind her. She was still staring at him with slight suspicion as Steve took them, but he ignored her. It wasn’t as if her opinion mattered since he didn’t plan on seeing her again after this as they were only staying the night.

With the keys acquired, Steve left the main office. Tommy and Billy weren’t around while Andy was messing around with the vending machine. That left only Jason waiting by the car, leaning against it as he snacked on a bag of generic brand potato chips. He looked up when Steve neared, giving him a small nod of greeting.

“Get the rooms?” Jason asked.

Steve held up the keys. “Yep.”

“Great, so who’s rooming with who?”

“You guys decide. I think I’m just going to sleep in the car.”

“You sure? It’s not like we haven’t doubled up before.”

“Yeah, it’s fine,” Steve said, while glancing over his shoulder a little. “I think I just want to make sure nothing happens to my baby in the middle of the night.”

Jason shrugged. “Suit yourself, I guess.” He then took the keys from Steve then wandered over to the vending machines to start talking to Andy, probably explaining the situation with the rooms. That only left Billy and Tommy unaccounted for, and who knew what kind of shit the two of them could get up to if they were left alone for too long. If he remembered correctly, they said they needed to take a piss, so he guessed they’d probably be in the woods since from what Steve could tell there weren’t any public bathrooms around.

At least, Steve hadn’t thought there were until he realized that there was a bar across the street. He didn’t remember it as they were pulling in as he was certain that he would’ve seen the bright, neon sign overhead declaring that the place was called “The Hideout.” Though, he chalked that up to him being more tired than he thought, making him glad that they’d found the motel when they did if his mind was that hazy.

Steve started to walk across the street towards the bar. He figured if Tommy and Billy would be anywhere then it’d be there. They’d probably pee then grab a few rounds before staggering back to the motel without even knowing their room numbers. It was like Steve was surrounded by children, and he seriously couldn’t wait for this damn camping trip to be over.

Part 1.1 ~ Masterpost ~ Part 1.3

[jpmarvel90]

PR Relationship

Masterlist Scarlett Masterlist

Word Count: 3110

Relationship: Scarlett x Singer Reader

Summary: Y/n and Scarlett are in love with each other and have a secret relationship that only a select few know about. Things change when Y/n finds out that Scarlett may have her eyes on someone else.

(I do not own the rights to the lyrics, I just think this sounds fits the story perfectly. It’s Secret Love Song by Little Mix.)

Y/N’s POV:

For the last 3 months, I have been dating the beautiful Scarlett Johansson. However, as she hasn’t come out yet, it was a complete secret with only Lizzie Olsen knowing the truth. At first it didn’t bother me at all. It was exciting. The sneaking around was fun and trying to sneak dates and kisses without being caught was exhilarating. But the last couple of weeks have started to get tiring. If ever I stay over, she’s kicking me out at like 5am so I don’t get caught by the paps, we never travel anywhere together and I’ve lost count of the amount of times she’s totally changed her demeanour around me because someone has walked by us.

Don’t get me wrong, I completely understand that Scarlett is scared of coming out. I’ve already done that and it wasn’t easy. I would never push her to do anything she’s uncomfortable with. But it’s starting to hurt, it feels more like she’s hiding me rather than protecting herself. Thing is, I love her and I’m willing to wait for her. Which is the problem, I’m scared this might break me.

So here I am, 4:30 in the morning tiptoeing around her bedroom getting ready to sneak out. I don’t want to wake her, she’s been so busy at work she deserves a good rest. I throw on some sweatpants and a hoody whilst picking up my underwear from the floor after last night’s activities. I leave a gentle kiss on Scarlett’s forehead before slipping out of the house, unheard, into the early morning.

As I’m sat in my car I can feel the exhaustion seeping through my body. I had been spending most nights at Scar’s which meant I was only getting a few hours sleep and it was starting to catch up with me. I’ve got to be at the studio at 8am so I decide there is no point in heading home. Instead I make my way to the beach to watch the sunrise and go for a swim. There’s no better way to start my day. Well other than getting to sleep in my girlfriends arms past 5!

I get to the studio early and I start having all of these thoughts in my head which I start to collate and write down. Lyrics forming as I write. I’ve not felt this inspired for a long time

We keep behind closed doors

Every time I see you, I die a little more

Stolen moments that we steal as the curtain falls

It'll never be enough

It’s not until I start to pull the lyrics together that I realise how much this whole situation is hurting me. By the end of the day it’s all starting to come together, the quickest that I have ever written a song. My team love it and are already planning for me to sing it on Jimmy Kimmel. I push back though. It’s not fair to Scarlett to hear about my feelings through an interview. But writing the song has helped, I’m feeling better already.

As I get into the car I check my phone. I’ve not spoken with Scarlett all day. That’s not unusual as for us though. But a smile forms on my face when I see a message from her.

Scarlett:

Hey Babe, thanks for this morning. I really needed that sleep. I know you’re in the studio all day so can’t talk. I’m working late but perhaps you could come over tomorrow? Love you xx

Me:

Hey Scar, no problem, you need your sleep! Tomorrow would be great. Love you too xx

The next evening I’m sat on the sofa in Scarlett’s living room her legs draped over mine as we watch TV. She has her laptop resting on her legs finishing up the last bit of work before she’s done for the day. I’m just sat scrolling through my phone when I seeing articles popping up about Scarlett and her new partner. We’d been so careful to not been seen together in more than a friendly capacity. In fact, by the way we act in public you wouldn’t think we were that close as friends.

But then my heart stops, the articles aren’t referring to me but Chris Evans. What the fuck?! I can feel my heart beating faster like it’s going to beat out of my chest. Then I click on one article, “Co-Stars Scarlett Johansson and Chris Evans spotting kissing on a dinner date.” A photo accompanying it. That was yesterday! I sit up with a jolt feeling like I was going to be sick. My God she’s cheating on me and she’s not even trying to hide it!

“Hey what’s wrong Babe, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Scarlett says concerned looking over her laptop to me. I try to speak but I can’t form words. I can see her starting to get worried as she puts her laptop down on the table and goes to put her arm on my back. I’m quick to pull away and just throw my phone in her direction. She looks at the screen and her eyes grow wide.

“Y/N this isn’t what it looks like, I swear. Please..” Running my hands through my hair I stand up not even able to sit next to her. “I mean it looks like you’ve got your tongue down Evans’ throat. Not sure what else it could look like Scarlett!” I say coldly trying so hard not to yell. “Is this why you hid me? Not wanting anyone to know. Am I the dirty little secret to keep until you have Evans?” Pacing round the room I can feel my chest get tighter and my breathing becoming erratic.

“NO! I’m not cheating on you Y/N, I love you!” “THEN WHAT IS THIS!” So much for not shouting. I can feel my heart breaking in two. “Please just let me explain. With the new Avengers movie coming out our teams thought it would be good PR if we got some rumours going about being in a relationship. We had lunch and dinner dates here and there making sure to look like a couple for the paparazzi. I promise you Y/N there is nothing going on.”

I immediately stop my pacing, turning to her in disbelief. “So you can’t tell anyone about me, but you’re happy to go along with a fake relationship for you movie. Great, good to know where I sit in your priorities. Did you even consider telling me, it’s weird but I would have understood? Instead I find out by finding a picture of you kissing!” I can’t stop the tears anymore, but I won’t let her see me sob.

“Y/N please…” Scarlett grabs my hands trying to get me to look at her. “I-I can’t do this anymore.” I whisper pulling my hands away. “Wait, what do you mean? Y/N?” she says in a scared tone. “I’ve spent the last 3 months doing everything you ever asked. I never pushed for you to do anything you were uncomfortable with, even if it was at a detriment to me. I was waiting for you to be happy in yourself that you could share us with the world. I have always put your first. I knew this could break me and it has. I need to put myself first this time as it’s evident you won’t.” Turning my back on her I grab my things and walk towards her door.

I can hear her running up behind me and she grabs my shoulders spinning me around. “No, you can’t go. I’m so sorry Y/N, I love you, please you can’t leave me. Don’t go we can work this out.” Looking in her eyes I can see the pain. Her cheeks are stained with tears. “We don’t need to work anything out Scar, you do. I just hope you find happiness one day without having to hide yourself way.” With that I walk out, my heart tearing from my chest. A part of me just wishing that one day she might be ready for this relationship as a whole.

Scarlett’s POV:

I had really fucked this up. I hadn’t slept for days and had shut myself away, calling in sick to work to avoid seeing anyone. I had never felt pain like this. Y/N was my world. I love her with all my heart. I had always intended to tell the everyone but it just felt too hard and she was so great at giving me time. But this PR relationship with Chris was by far the biggest mistake I’ve ever made. This isn’t me, I don’t intentionally hurt people but it feels like I did with Y/N.

Whilst in my cave of self-pity and depression I hear banging on the door. Dragging myself up I find an angry Lizzie stood there with her Wanda head tilt. Shit that’s terrifying! “What the fuck Scar?!” She huffs pushing herself into my house. “Well hello to you too Lizzie” I half chuckle. “You broke her when all she has ever done is put your first. I warned you that you needed to be honest with yourself or you’ll lose her.” She’s angry but her tone softens when she sees the state I’m in. “Geeze Scar when was the last time you slept?” She said pulling me in for a hug. “I can’t sleep without her.” I whisper tears starting to form in my eyes.

We move to the sofa and she takes my hands in hers. “From what I hear, Y/N didn’t get much sleep with you. Staying up til God knows when with you then being kicked out at 5am. Did you not notice how tired she’d been?” I just shake my head in shame. “I’ve screwed up Lizzie and I don’t know how to get her back. I’ve told my team I won’t go ahead with the fake relationship anymore but I know I need to do so much more than that to show her I’m in this for the long run.” I don’t dare even speak that I’m terrified that I’ve lost her forever, in fear that speaking it will make it true.

“Scarlett, you need to decide what scares you the most. Coming out and fearing people will see you differently, or losing Y/N, the woman you are madly in love with, for good. Just don’t take too long in making that decision or it could be too late.” She pulls me into a hug and we lie together on the sofa. “I miss her Lizzie” I sniffle. “Well, she’s performing on Jimmy Kimmel. How about we watch that?” I nod and she grabs the remote switching over to her performance.

Y/N’s Performance:

Jimmy: Performing her latest single, please welcome to the stage, Y/N Y/L/N!

The lights dim with a sole spotlight shining on Y/N who is sat at a piano. She starts to play as the notes ring out through the studio.

We keep behind closed doors

Every time I see you, I die a little more

Stolen moments that we steal as the curtain falls

It'll never be enough

As you drive me to my house

I can't stop these silent tears from rolling down

You and I both have to hide

On the outside where I can't be yours and you

Can't be mine

But I know this

We got a love that is homeless

Why can't I hold you in the street?

Why can't I kiss you on the dance floor?

I wish that it could be like that

Why can't it be like that?

'Cause I'm yours

Why can't I say that I'm in love?

I wanna shout it from the rooftops

I wish that it could be like that

Why can't it be like that?

'Cause I'm yours

It's obvious you're meant for me

Every piece of you, it just fits perfectly

Every second, every thought, I'm in so deep

But I'll never show it on my face

But we know this, we got a love that is homeless

Why can't you hold me in the street?

Why can't I kiss you on the dance floor?

I wish that it could be like that

Why can't we be like that?

'Cause I'm yours

Why can't I say that I'm in love?

I wanna shout it from the rooftops

I wish that it could be like that

Why can't we be like that?

'Cause I'm yours

I don't wanna live love this way

I don't wanna hide us away

I wonder if it ever will change

I'm living for that day

Someday

When you hold me in the street

And you kiss me on the dance floor

I wish that we could be like that

Why can't we be like that

'Cause I'm yours, I'm yours

Oh, why can't you hold me in the street?

Why can't I kiss you on the dance floor?

I wish that it could be like that

Why can't it be like that?

'Cause I'm yours

Why can't I say that I'm in love?

I wanna shout it from the rooftops

I wish that it could be like that

Why can't we be like that?

'Cause I'm yours

Why can't we be like that

Wish we could be like that

The lights faded as the camera zoomed in close enough to see that Y/N was crying before the stage went dark and the audience erupt in applause.

Scarlett’s POV:

Lizzie and I just sat there in silence. I could hear the pain in her voice and it hurt me to know that it was me that caused it. I was pulled out of my trance by Lizzie squeezing me into a tight hug whispering in my ear. “If this didn’t help you decide then I don’t know what will.” She was right, the only person who I care about is Y/N. I’m not scared anymore. I’m going to win her back.

I’m up all night with Lizzie working a way out that I can come out and show my love for Y/N. An Instagram post didn’t seem like enough and a press release was too impersonal. It needed to be something special, and that’s when Lizzie came up with a risky but perfect plan. I just hope that she could forgive me and we can start out lives together a fresh.

Timeskip

It was a week later and here I am sat in the back of Y/N’s limo. She just doesn’t know it. It’s the night of the Grammy’s and Y/N is up for an award. I’m so proud of her and it’s time to show her that she is my number one priority. Lizzie’s grand plan so far had worked. We spoke with Y/N’s team and I explained the whole situation. Her manager was surprisingly nice about and said that it explained a lot about her behaviour recently. She had agreed to arrange a secret plus one for Y/N. I would wait in her car to surprise to walk down the red carpet with her, as her girlfriend. I just hoped she wouldn’t kick me out on the curb.

My heart rate starts to pick up as I hear her talking as she walk towards the car. God I’ve missed that voice. The car door opens and she gets in letting out a slight sigh as she sits. It takes her a moment before she notices me sat there with a nervous smile on my face and she jumps “Jesus Scar, you scared the shit out of me.” We both let out an awkward chuckle. “What are you doing here?” She asks not quite able to maintain the eye contact. This is it, the moment I win my girl back.

I put my finger under her chin and lift it so she’s looking at me. My God she is breathtakingly beautiful! I then take both of her hands in mine taking a deep breath “Y/N. Since the day I met you, I knew I was going to fall madly in love with you. Every day I spent with you I fell more and more in love. No one has ever made me as happy as you do. I know it’s only been 3 months but I know you are the women I want to spend the rest of my life with. I screwed up, I know I can’t take that back. I was so paralysed with fear about coming out and people’s reaction to it, that I didn’t think about you and our relationship. I just let you carry on making the sacrifices for me. But today that changes. I love you with all my heart and I’m not prepared to lose you again. I am so fucking proud of what you have achieve this last year. You deserve everything you are going to get tonight. And…. If you’ll have me… I want to be there for you every step of the way. No more hiding. I want to walk down that red carpet on your arm as your proud girlfriend. And then I’m going to spend the rest of my life showing you how much I love you.”

There is a long silence as her eyes flicker between my own trying to get a read of me. I hope she can see how sincere I’m being, that I mean every word that I’m saying. “Don’t hurt me again. I don’t think I can survive if you do.” She whispers. The biggest smile appears on my face as I reach up and put my hand to her cheek wiping away the stray tear. “I promise I won’t. Can I kiss you?” I ask. “You never have to ask Scar.” And with that I pull her into a passionate kiss. I have missed her lips connecting with mine. It makes me feel complete. “You look absolutely beautiful Y/N. I’m so glad I get to call you mine.” She laughs and pulls me in for another soft kiss.

As we pull up to the venue Y/N grabs my hand. “Are you sure Scar? I don’t want you to do something you’re going to regret.” I look at her and smile. “The only regret I have is not telling the world how much I love you sooner. Let’s do this.” The fear is gone, I’m only excited now. As the door to the limo opens, I see the start of our new life together.  

[captainsophiestark]

A Bad Idea

Obi-Wan Kenobi x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for Fictober 2023!

Fandom: Star Wars

Day 31 Prompt: "It's not your fault."

Summary: Obi-Wan and his best friend/fellow Jedi are getting Hondo's help on a mission. Predictably, things don't go according to their plan.

Word Count: 2,045

Category: Fluff, Humor

A/N: That's a wrap for Fictober gang! Thank you so much to @fictober-event for putting this whole thing on and to everyone who's read one of my stories! Honestly can't believe the amount of writing I got done for this event

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

"I think this might be the worst idea we've ever had."

"If you don't count ideas that Anakin came up with and we agreed to, then yes, it probably is."

Obi-Wan Kenobi and I stood shoulder to shoulder on the ramp of our ship, waving as the one and only Hondo Ohnaka came towards us. We'd recently gotten information that the Separatists were using a different group of pirates to smuggle things out of reach of the Republic, and together, Obi-Wan and I had decided the best way to infiltrate a pirate base was with the help of another pirate. On paper, it sounded perfectly rational, especially since we had a pirate contact we could go to. In reality, it was probably going to get us killed.

"Kenobi!" called Hondo once he got within earshot of us. "It is wonderful to see you again! And who is your lovely friend? A girlfriend, perhaps?"

Heat and embarrassment rushed through me, and I felt a wave of discomfort coming off of Obi-Wan in the Force too.

"Jedi don't typically date," he quickly explained, waving Hondo off. "And it wouldn't be any of your business anyway."

"I'm a friend of Obi-Wan's," I continued. "We grew up at the Temple together."

Hondo gave me a quick once over, then evaluated Obi-Wan the same way. Then, he smiled and held out his hand to me.

"Well, any friend of Obi-Wan's is a friend of mine! It is very nice to meet you, I'm sure!"

I forced a smile as I took his hand and shook it. I didn't think he'd meant to, but Honda had hit a very sore spot for me. I'd harbored feelings for my best friend for years now, against the Code, and I'd done my best every single day to hide them from him and from anyone else. A hundred Jedi who'd known me since birth couldn't tell, but this Weequay had hit the bullseye within moments of seeing me for the first time.

"Come on," Obi-Wan whispered to me, leaning in close to my ear so Hondo couldn't hear him as the Weequay moved past me into the ship. "The sooner we start this mission, the sooner it's officially over."

"Can't wait," I muttered. "And you said this guy was your friend?"

Obi-Wan shrugged. "More like... acquaintance who tries to kill me sometimes. Although I think he unironically considers me his best friend."

I smiled a little at that, especially as Obi-Wan moved into the ship after Hondo and Hondo immediately flung an arm around his shoulders and pulled him in. Based on the conversation I could hear as I brought in the ramp, Hondo was trying to convince Obi-Wan to sell him some of our Republic tech at a frankly ridiculous price. To no one's surprise (except maybe Hondo's), Obi didn't budge. He was remarkably gentle in his refusal, though.

After a brief challenge where Hondo insisted on piloting the ship and Obi-Wan had to convince him to sit in the passenger seat instead, we were on our way. With Hondo's help, we quickly found the pirate base we were looking for.

"Do you guys just constantly share locations with each other?" I asked as we came in for a landing not too far from the gates. Hondo shrugged.

"We do business with each other from time to time. Helps to know where your business partners are."

"Hm. Makes sense."

Hondo grinned at me. He clapped me on the shoulder and started walking down the ramp, and a moment later Obi-Wan took his place next to me.

"Don't turn your back on him," he warned. I turned, coming face to face with Obi-Wan. We'd known each other for most of our lives; I'd seen him a million times or more. But for this mission, we weren't in the typical Jedi robes, in an effort to go undercover. And seeing him standing next to me in a dashing pirate costume made my heart beat a little faster.

"Don't worry, I wasn't planning on it." Obi-Wan stared off after Hondo, his expression clouded, so I reached out and gently squeezed his shoulder. "We'll be fine, okay? We've survived everything we've gone through so far. What's a couple pirates?"

"The last time I interacted with pirates, Anakin and I ended up handcuffed to Count Dooku."

I laughed as we started strolling down the ramp together to catch up to Hondo.

"Well, if we find ourselves in a similar situation, I promise to make fun of Dooku even more than Anakin did with you."

"That, I would look forward to seeing." He sighed, nudging my shoulder with his just before we caught up to Hondo. "I suppose there's nothing left for us to do but dive straight in."

"Like you said. Sooner we start, sooner we get to go back to Cody and other, saner partners in crime."

"The fact that Anakin is significantly more rational and predictable than Hondo is... concerning."

I chuckled, and Obi-Wan and I shared a smile. Hondo clapped us both on the shoulders once we'd caught up with him at the door to the pirate's fort, and then we headed inside.

The next thing I remember, I was waking up on a concrete floor, my head pounding. I groaned, lifting one hand to my head, and to my surprise something dragged my other hand with it. I opened my eyes.

I was handcuffed. More than that, I was apparently handcuffed to someone else. I turned to my right to see Obi-Wan, already sitting up and looking at me.

"Good morning."

"What happened?"

"We were played." I sighed and flung my head back. All that talk about having each others' backs and not trusting Hondo, and it had been for nothing. "We were jumped as soon as we made it through the gates. Hondo turned us over and went to collect a bounty for us from the other pirates."

"Oh wonderful," I sighed, slumping back against Obi-Wan. My heart sped up a little bit at our close proximity, but unlike every other time we'd been close, this time I couldn't chicken out. It was lean against him, or very clearly, obviously, and uncomfortably lean away from him.

"I should've known we couldn't trust him," Obi-Wan said. "I just thought that this time we were prepared, so Hondo wouldn't be able to get one over on us. I should've known better."

"It's not your fault. Even I'd started to believe Hondo was honestly going to work with us for this mission. The fact that he'd already double-crossed us, before we even got on the ship..."

I trailed off, shaking my head. Obi-Wan sighed, and we spent a few moments leaning against the wall and each other, hands close together and heads resting against each other. I could've stayed like that for a long time, if we hadn't been sitting in a jail cell.

"So..." I finally started, still not moving an inch. "What did you do the last time you were in this situation?"

Obi-Wan sighed heavily. "Bickered with the Count, mostly. And made a few escape attempts. We would've been successful from the beginning had it not been for Dooku."

I huffed a small laugh. "Well, it's a good thing I'm here instead of him then, isn't it?"

"I truthfully can't think of anyone else I'd rather be stuck with."

We shared a smile, a warm feeling quickly dominating my chest. I couldn't quite stop myself from leaning forward ever so slightly, like Obi-Wan had his own gravity pulling me in. In this place, out of sight and temporarily forgotten by everyone else, being close to him didn't feel as scary as it did in the Temple or aboard the Negotiator.

To my immense surprise and delight, Obi-Wan leaned in too, a moment after me. He huffed a small laugh, his blue eyes sparkling.

"This is... probably a bad idea."

I didn't need to ask what he was talking about. I gave him a small smile and shrugged.

"No worse an idea than the one that got us in here in the first place."

"You certainly make a good point."

As one, we smiled and closed the remaining distance to each other, our lips meeting in a kiss I'd thought about a thousand times. It was even better than I'd imagined it would be, especially as I could feel Obi-Wan through the Force. My best friend, the man I'd loved a thousand different ways before I even really knew what the word meant, glowed with a happiness that matched mine.

No one had ever really found evidence that soulmates were real, despite all the mystical forces that did exist in the galaxy. But as I sat on the filthy floor of that cell and kissed my best friend, our energies twining together in the Force, I thought we'd come pretty close.

"Oh, this is very gross. And yet, it's exactly what I'd hoped to find."

Obi-Wan and I broke apart to find Hondo staring at us through the bars of the cell, a grin on his face. We fixed him with matching scowls.

"Come now, what are those looks for? You should be happy, look at the two of you!"

"Happy might be a stretch, since you double-crossed us," I said. Hondo's mouth dropped open and a hand flew to his chest.

"Double-crossed? No no no, I have done no such thing."

"Then why did we wake up handcuffed in a cell?" Obi-Wan demanded. "In my case, again."

"Ah, you see, it was all part of my brilliant plan!"

Obi-Wan and I shared a very, very skeptical look. Undeterred, Hondo pulled a ring of keys out of his pocket, still beaming at us.

"You thought the two of you, two Jedi, could actually sneak in here unnoticed? Ha! It never would have worked. So, I pretended to double-cross you, and while the two of you were in here admitting feelings for each other, I found your documents! After collecting the credits for turning you two over as prisoners, of course."

Obi-Wan and I stared, dumbfounded, as Hondo explained his plan and removed our handcuffs. We stood, helping each other up, both a little stunned that the Weequay had really outplayed everyone here.

"Come on, we must hurry," said Hondo, waving us after him as he headed for the cell door. "It won't take them long to figure out what we've done."

We spared one last shocked glance at each other, then hurried after Hondo through the winding halls of the pirates' lair.

"If you got your money and information, why did you come back for us?" asked Obi-Wan, suspicion dripping from his words. "Why not leave us to be cashed in for a bounty?"

I wanted to smack him for asking that question before we were safely back on our ship, but Hondo just turned to us, looking hurt and outraged that Obi-Wan would even suggest it.

"Kenobi, I am hurt! I would never do such a thing to such a good friend!" He turned, ignoring Obi's raised eyebrow as we at last made it out of the hideout. "Besides, there were no more credits to be gained by leaving you here. The only thing that would've happened was a profit for my competition."

I failed to fight off a smile. Now it all made sense.

Obi-Wan and I trailed just behind Hondo the last bit of distance to our ship, and cautiously, I slipped my hand into his. He gave it a gentle squeeze, turning to fix me with a small smile.

"You know this is going to complicate our lives beyond belief, don't you?"

"Yeah. But I think it's worth it. Our lives are already wildly complicated anyway."

Obi-Wan huffed a small laugh. "I agree."

"With which part?"

"All of it. But especially the part about this being worth it."

He gave my hand one last squeeze, and we shared another tender look before reaching the ramp of the ship and returning to business mode. I let Obi-Wan lead the way, and as I closed the ramp, I could already hear Hondo bargaining with Obi-Wan for credits in exchange for the information he'd retrieved while we'd been in the cell. Despite the exasperation on Obi-Wan's face and in his tone, I could still feel that glowing happiness radiating off of him in the Force, a mirror to my own. We were going to be just fine.

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury

[rose-morose]

on this week's episode of oddly compelling children's media, Jurassic World Camp Cretaceous

rambling under the cut contains minor spoilers for the show and is unnecessarily long you have been warned

now I've always maintained that adults seriously underestimate shows intended for younger audiences, shows like Gravity Falls, The Owl House, Avatar The Last Airbender, Legend of Korra, etc are very well written and often executed near perfectly

but the media to which I allude today consists of shows intended not just for children, but very young children, shows like Carmen Sandiego (the Netflix original not the game show) and The Dragon Prince

it's more difficult to find good shows in this category, but the shows listed above are pretty good

and now I can add JWCC to the list, despite being meant for young children I found it very compelling

my particular fascination with this show stems from how well they portray platonic love without needing to force romance into the show

this changes in season 5, the final season, and I was disappointed to see Kenji and Brooklynn engaging in a romantic relationship, but Sammy and Yasmina was a long time coming from day one, plus they're really cute together so I kinda let that one slide

other than that, as an aroace individual, I found the platonic relationship to be rather beautiful, and fairly unprecedented for the media

they were best friends that could tell each other that they loved each other overtly and without fear of embarrassment

it's not very often you see stories unmarred by excessive and often forced romance, and even though Camp Cretaceous eventually loses that novelty, I love it all the same

I watched the first season of Chaos Theory, and despite its insistence on doubling down on the romance, I loved seeing the best friends together again and can't wait for season 2

I'm not romance repulsed as you've likely already surmised, but it's nice to see love displayed in other ways beyond the romantic, and feels very validating to highlight the platonic

this is the kind of relationship I strive for in my friendships and I love to see that it's viable and attainable

thank you to every wonderful person who worked hard to create this gem, I can't wait to see what happens next