#love drawing this drama king in robes

[justcreatingthings]

Haven't posted a Phantom in a while, and that feels like a crime-

[bijoumikhawal]

The Book of Esther shows us a Jewish queen in exile, and the story resonates with the echoes of the priestess/goddess roles. In the ancient Persian religion, Spring was a time to draw lots to determine the king's new advisors. Ishtar (goddess of love and war), and Marduk (god of war and justice), would have been prominent characters in the new year ritual drama. The Book of Esther transforms the tradition into a saga of Jewish survival, appropriating the role of the preserver of life (Ishtar) for Esther and the position of the protector of the people (Marduk) for Mordechai. The Book of Esther allows Jews to be part of the larger culture's mythic tale of Spring and to remain true to their Jewish identity at the same time.

Esther's story is a twist on the descent of the goddess Ishtar into the underworld. In Babylonian myth, the goddess Ishtar strips herself of her clothing and royal garb to enter the underworld. Ishtar's sister, Ereshkigal queen of the underworld, afflicts Ishtar with disease and death. After the other gods plead with Ereshkigal to let Ishtar go, Ishtar's royal robes are returned to her.

Esther, a young Jewish girl, finds herself in a Persian harem. Esther must strip herself of her identity and pretend she is not a Jew, just as Ishtar must strip herself of goddesshood in the underworld. Later, under the influence of the evil vizier Haman, the king makes the decree that all Jews be assassinated. Esther's uncle Mordechai begs Esther to go to the king, even though it is forbidden, risking her life to save her people. Before doing so, Esther fasts for three days. Her three days of fasting may be an allegory for Ishtar's trials in the underworld.

On the third day, Esther garbed herself in royalty, and stood in the inner court of the king's palace, and the king sat on his royal throne in the palace opposite the doorway. When the king saw Esther standing in the courtyard, she found favor in his eyes, and the king extended to her the golden scepter in his hand, and Esther drew near and touched the scepter's head.

-Esther 5:1-2

One cannot miss the strong parallel between Esther's robing herself in royalty and Ishtar's queenly robing as she leaves the underworld. When Esther enters the king's throne room and touches the tip of his royal scepter, she is enacting the sacred marriage between Ishtar and the king. Although in a Jewish story this image is probably meant to be ironic, it can also be seen as Esther's acting as a priestess, channeling the power of the divine feminine in the human realm.

Pg 136-137, The Hebrew Priestess

[castlebyersafterdark]

OMFFFFG the dnd roleplay!!!

ok, serious, THAT is what spicy byler fandom needs. not just because its hot, but because its literally so in character, and it's .... like that IS real. and yeah you could say its the most explicit kind of sexualisation of their childhood selves so far because of the dnd associations in the show, but you could also say the show itself is a horrorification (and sexualisation if you read the metaphor a certain way) of their childhood gameplay. so...

and yes its so cringe but the best freaking kind, the kind the show gives you! i was only cringing on their behalf rather than out of my own guilt which i do still get a bit of when i enjoy anything spicy byler lol. and weirdly its even hotter BECAUSE its not just for us. because its for them, so in character, it becomes hotter? yessssss youve done it

and theres no WAY that will, who draws real-person fanart about their party lol, has never fantasised about this. i mean, his very painting is a fantasy put to canvas. and mike with that paladin sword.... oh, you knowwwww that there's gonna be some dirty talk about swords somewhere... * shudder * who knows, maybe them creating these characters was even will's sexual awakening about mike? imagining him in these courageous contexts etc

the use of will's magic in their dirty talk hehehe im imagining them actually writing a whole mini scenario to play out, not even just getting lost in the moment but properly planning it sometimes cos they couldnt believe how hot it was first time it happened 🙊🙊 (ok now i need to know who instigated the first time. pre-party meet up too! these boys are wild). and also - they way they bounce off each other at suzie's in the show? theyre TELLING us that these two can roleplay! so why not sexy too when theyre older? yessssssss correct

i cringed with joy at the way you wrote this. perfection. sometimes i bad-cringe at the impersonal-ness of byler smut with pet names anyone in the world could use, cos its so easy for them to stop being mike and will and start being random bodies having sex, but this specificity feels like its so them and it could only be them.

using their dnd names??? ACCENTS????? 😭 i'm imaginging their idea of king arthur british medieval ahhhhhhh

+ partially dressed in costume????? the wizard hat falling off immediately when will bounces?? his floopy flowing robes just hiked up over his thighs?????????? that's period drama-level sex right there, even better than totally naked. mike just having a bit of armour over his shoulders, nothing else? ughhhhhh

honestly i have never been in nerd culture like this irl, but i can totally see how fantasy would develop from childhood to adulthood like this... its natural for everyone because imagination and pretend play in childhood is often lost as we grow (unless someone is a creative/artist/imagination-forward adult) and the only place that playfulness remains for many folk is through sexual expression. sex is where adults play. so why the heck not this for byler? its so on track i literally am so excited to see what you do with this, not least because perhaps for these boys, this is one of the only ways they can reclaim their love of this game after all the trauma they went through. beautiful 😭😭😭

This ask was sent back in early June after this post and a bunch of chatter about potentially writing a fic expanding on the idea. I draft and forget so many asks (oops, sorry 🫣) and thought I might have had s relevant one stashed away. I hope you're still around, maybe you're someone who's made a blog between then and now! This was all before I even planned an official outline and I thought... would it be crazy if I expanded on the idea? Hilarious. I have so many other wips in the works but I don't think I want to fully leave our little role-playing nerds behind. I'll drop random drabbles about that whole vibe over time when inspiration strikes. Love everything about these two boys.

[losterthanlost]

May 4, 2024

Hello.

Like, isipa. Scene sa drama or movie. Two characters, lovers, na heartbroken. Gwapo ang shot. Lighting, and weather that day, that time of the day. Ang breeze. Ang sound of the rustling leaves sa mga trees. As a watcher, maisip mo na ka-chill ng buhay nila. Ang simple ng rules ng universe nila. Pero sa POV ng characters, assuming they are real people, it might be the darkest day of their lives. They'll say things like, "life is so cruel". Dili nila makita unsa ka nice sa weather ato na afternoon, kung unsa to ka good na day sa POV sa watcher. Pero sa POV sa character dili jud to good day. Basi kapoy na sila cge hilak. As if the universe and the Gods are never in their favor. Gina-kwestiyon na nila kung worth it pa ba magpadayon sa kinabuhi after sa situation na naa sila. Naisip ra nako og kalit after matan-aw ang ep 1 sa Splash Splash Love. HAHAAHHA. Ang characters na naisip nako is sila duha. The girl in her uniform and red bag, and the King in his red robes. Kneeling on the ground in one of the palace gardens while having the most heartbreaking conversation ever. Nice siya na garden. Ambot kung garden jud ang tawag kay wala ra ba kaayo plants. More on pathways and ponds with waterlillies. tas sa likod nila naay bridge. May houses din. Ambot. kaya ko ba ni i-drawing? Dili man ko maayo na drawer.

Sad lang isipon. Kay you experience both POVs in your life man jud. Pwede rin cguro magshift between the two POVs noh kung lisod ang life? Kung feeling nako di na ko gusto magpadayon, mag-switch lang ko sa POV sa watcher sa drama about sa akong life. Kay makita sa watcher ang mga good things sa akong life. Naa mi mainom na tubig, reliable na kuryente, and gagana na mga appliance. Naa mi sa relatively safe na neighbourhood. Daghan pa og puno diring dapita. Naay mga silingan pero medyo lagyo pa sa isa't isa. Layo mi sa highway so dili mi mabother sa kasaba sa mga sakyanan na mag cge og agi-agi. Mas ma-appreciate sad sa watcher akong kwarto. Although gamay ni, at least sarili nako ni. Akong katre kumportable higdaan. Kumpleto ko og sinina although dili tanan ako gustong suoton, at least naa koy masuot. Basi mas judger pa gani ko sa akoang sariling outfits kesa sa watcher. Basi dili jud gani mag-judge ever ang watcher.

Basta kato. Murag sad man gud padulong ning fate aning duha ka characters sa Splash Splash Love kay dili man gud unli ang time nila together haha. Pero cute sila. As a watcher lang, mas feel sa characters ang kalisod sa ilahang situation. As a watcher madungog nako ang faint whisper in my head na naga wish na ang rules sa akong world and life kay similar lang sa ilaha. Ma-feel ko ni always kada mutan-aw ko og sageuk dramas. Sa 100 days my prince, na-attract ko sa ilang lifestyle kay sa isip ko wala man sila gaadto college. Na-attract ko sa ka-simple sa ilang life na ma-ignore na nako hapit ang fact na both sa fictional na story na to og sa reality jud sa kato na time period, ang life as a commoner mas gamay og rights kesa karon and mas baba ang quality of life kesa sa karon. Masakit ka dati, tambalan ka ig makaya. Pero pag dili na patay ka na dayon. hRights as a woman pud. Jusko. Wala jud nay klaro dati. Pero gusto ko ang simplicity. Gitan-aw man gud nakoa ng 100 days my prince tung pandemic while galisod ko sa mga readings sa akong mga subjects. So... yeah. A time na dili na nako gusto balikan and would never want to wish on anyone.

Okay so mao gani to. Naisip ko lang. Hehe. Ang scene ra man unta akong gusto i-describe while fresh pa sa akong utok wala ko nag-expect na maabot diay akong thoughts sa pag-come up og another way to comfort myself during the tough times: Switch between the POVs of the suffering character and the watcher.

[depressedbagpipe]

Silver (Prince Caspian x female!reader)

Chapter IX - Confessions of a Teenage Drama Queen

Words: 3652 Warnings: just very bad writing of feelings, overall. other than that you're good. A/N: hey ;) i completely made up this chapter, because i wanted to write something of my own without following a script for once. let me know what you think of it 💜 and thank you once more for your support. also the title is conveniently fitting lol

Series Masterlist Previous chapter <> Next chapter

Chapter IX - Confessions of a Teenage Drama Queen

I knew I was dreaming way before Caspian’s lips softly rested on mine. I was standing on the ruins of Cair Paravel, wearing my school uniform. The Pevensies were nowhere to be found, but it almost didn’t matter. Somehow, I knew this wasn’t about them. 

Soft steps on the overgrown grass made me turn around, finding Caspian’s dazzling eyes as he approached me. I turned back, staring at the calm waters before me, suddenly feeling his chest against my back and his arms enveloping me, protective and loving. Caspian rested his chin on my head, kissing it softly as I rested my hands on his, drawing small circles. 

His heart was peaceful, quiet, just like the rest of the world. My lips spread in a lazy grin, letting the breeze and contempt wash over my body and mind, finally finding peace after so many restless nights. 

“I wish we could stay like this, forever,” Caspian spoke softly. 

I nodded, pushing him closer to me.

A stronger wind started to pick up, sending our loose clothes flailing around us. The sun that had been lighting everything with warmth was suddenly gone, dark clouds filling the sky in a matter of seconds. The sea raged below, crashing into the rocks with such a forceful fury that I took a couple of steps back, out of surprise.

The air got colder, making me shiver as it prickled the skin on my legs. The spell was broken almost immediately. I turned around to face Caspian, who was dressed like the first time I had ever seen him. He wore no armor or swords, and his face was not that of a child, but rather a young king. He looked at me with such endearment that I knew it couldn’t be real.

“I have to go,” I said, as the wind got louder around us.

Caspian frowned at me, gripping my hands tightly. “What do you mean?”

I had to pin down the skirt of my uniform to prevent it from showing anything.

“Cas, I don’t belong here,” my heart broke with every word. “This isn’t my world.”

He shook his head at me. “No, no, but we can talk to Aslan, we can…” he was desperate, pulling me to him as I tried to walk away.

“There’s nothing to be done, Caspian,” hot tears fell from my eyes.

“I can’t let you go just like that,” he was crying too, his grip almost too hot, or too cold, burning into my skin.

“Please,” I pleaded, my voice barely a whisper.

Before I could say anything, Caspian took a step forward and kissed me. All logic went off the window as he grabbed me by my waist, keeping me close to him, our lips moving in a graceful dance to the tune of our own melody. For a few seconds, time seemed to stop. It was only us in the entire universe.

Yet the world around me slowly faded until I was standing alone in the dark, the ghost of Caspian’s kiss still lingering on my lips and his grip on my waist. My body grew heavier as if something invisible pushed me to the ground, but I was too heartbroken to fight it. I let it move me around like a falling leaf until I too became darkness.

I woke up with a start. My forehead was drenched in sweat, and shivers ran down every limb. The silk night robes that had been gifted to me stuck to my body, as I desperately tried to calm my racing heart.

Winter stood by the feet of the bed, her ears listening, yet her eyes were closed, sleeping despite the early morning rays already illuminating most of the room. I threw the covers off my body, the coldness of the stone floor immediately clinging to my bare feet as I stood up. I washed my face on a nearby basin filled with water, taking a quick look at my reflection in the mirror that hung above it. My eyes were wide, with dark circles under them, and dry stains on my cheeks that I quickly washed away as the sun slowly made its appearance over the Telmarine castle.

I stood on the balcony overlooking the kingdom, the first villagers waking up at the sound of their roosters, starting their day. The castle was dormant on the inside, not a single sound heard from the other side of the wooden door. I looked to the horizon, the sight both familiar and unrecognizable at the same time.

Caspian had returned to Telmar, welcomed with open arms by his people. He brought us with him, too, giving us all our own quarters, and making sure every Narnian out there felt welcome in his home. His coronation had been beautiful, Narnians and Telmarines alike cheering for their new ruler. We had spent the past weeks helping Caspian become the king he was meant to be. Peter and he had become fast friends after that, Caspian turning into his sort of protegée as Peter taught him everything he knew about ruling after becoming High King. Edmund and I would often chime in during their war and council discussions, guiding him over all the new decisions he had to make as the new king of Narnia. 

Peace reigned over the land, finally, yet I had become restless. Caspian and I had grown closer, often seeking each other’s advice on even the simplest of matters. Many nights had been spent at the library or his professor’s office, reading everything ever written about Narnia, recounting our tales, our adventures, our battles. During the day we trained together, and rode around Telmar and well into the Narnian territory. No wars had to be fought, and for once, I wasn’t a soldier. 

A couple of balls were held, too, Caspian taking Susan’s advice and inviting all the neighboring kingdoms. A new era of peace and prosperity loomed in the air, and with every passing day, I knew our time in Narnia was coming to an end. Caspian was managing on his own, not needing the Kings and Queens of Old anymore for guidance. The more I spoke with him, the less of the young naive prince I saw. 

It was a couple of nights ago that the nightmares started. All of them began the same way, somehow in Caspian’s arms, only to be reminded that I couldn’t stay. And every time my heart broke a little more. I feared soon there wouldn’t be any heart left to break.

I still thought about it during that night’s ball over Archenland’s peace treaties, signed only a few hours prior. I stood once again over the big balcony at the ballroom, an uninviting colder breeze allowing me to enjoy some peaceful moments away from the dancing couples inside.

“It really is beautiful out here,” Susan’s gentle voice startled me from my thoughts. She stood next to me, also gazing at the stars. “It’s no Cair Paravel, though,” she joked.

I snorted. “It wouldn’t be fair to compare the two. You guys are four, Caspian’s just one,” I answered, keeping the light tone over us.

“I always found it weird, you know. Four of us. But I see Caspian’s managing well,” she replied, a gentle smile on her plump lips.

I looked at her slightly, my jaw unconsciously tensing at her words. I made no reply, for I was too busy letting my bitterness get the best of me. 

“I know he will be a good king,” I answered at last. “He had the best teachers, after all,” I complimented her, forcing myself to push down any sourness. Susan and I had been best friends for years, after all.

It was her turn to snort. “Please, speak for yourself. I barely did anything,” she replied. “He’s been more focused on you than any of us combined.”

I blushed at her words, for they were true. “Well, when all of this is over, it won’t matter,” I sighed. 

Susan frowned at my words, likely knowing what was going on in my head. I hadn’t told anyone about the nightmares, and my feelings for Caspian, but Susan could always read me like an open book.

“Look,” she took my hand, “I know you love him. And I happen to know he loves you too,” I widened my eyes at her. “Oh, come on, don’t tell me you don’t know!” she laughed, but I remained on the spot, unmoving.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Su,” I told her. The butterflies in my stomach seemed wilder than ever, but I kept forcing them to stop. I simply couldn’t.

“You clearly are made for each other. Both of you are two stupidly pining after the other to notice your feelings are mutual,” she smirked at me, but not with malice.

“Listen, even if I did, I know our time here’s ending soon,” I grabbed her by her shoulders, in an attempt to shut her up. “The last thing I need right now is to get my hopes up over a guy I barely know that flirts with the first woman to cross his path,” I almost spat.

Susan winced, not from my tight grip, but because of my words. I felt bad immediately. “I’m really sorry about that,” she put her hands on mine, her warmth sending goosebumps up my arm. “I’m not going to lie, Caspian is attractive and kind, and gentle. But as soon as I saw the way you looked at each other I knew I couldn’t do anything. I now know it is not my destiny to be with him. But yours is,” she explained. My cheeks felt hot at her words.

“I don’t think it is my destiny either,” I shook my head, blinking rapidly to stop the tears that were slowly forming in my eyes. “I’ve been having these dreams… nightmares, really,” I took a deep breath under Susan’s concentrated gaze. “It’s always Caspian and me. And every time I have to go. We don’t belong here anymore, Su, and I don’t want to risk getting my heart broken for the rest of my life over a love that can’t be,” a single tear fell down my face.

“I really can’t tell you what to do,” Susan spoke softly, brushing the tear off, “and I know how painful it is to love somebody and have to let go. I will love and support you regardless. And so will Caspian,” she squeezed my hands before returning to the ball. She stopped at the entrance, giving me one last look. “If it makes you feel any better, he never flirted back.”

I stood there for a few minutes, replaying every single conversation, touch, and look, shared by Caspian and me during these weeks. I felt a weight lift off my shoulders after my conversation with Susan, but as my eyes found Caspian, smiling and laughing with Edmund and a few of his council members, I felt like an outsider once again.

Caspian caught my eyes and immediately frowned. I tried to slip away, unnoticed, but he was quicker, grabbing me by my arm as soon as I stepped into the hall.

“Hey, is everything alright?” he asked, concerned.

I shook my head, mainly so my hair would cover my red eyes. “Yeah, why do you ask?” I grinned at him, trying to appear convincing enough.

“You don’t look okay,” he grabbed my hand, his touch sending my heart into a frenzy. “Did something happen?”

“No, no, I’m fine. I just… I need some air, you know. I’m not used to the whole ballroom dancing thing,” I laughed nervously, desperately hoping for Caspian to let me go.

He shook his head at me. “I know something’s wrong. You’ve been ignoring me these past few days,” his eyes were almost glossy. “Did I do something?” 

I mentally kicked myself at his words, another weight landing on my shoulders, only this time, it clung to my whole chest, drilling a hole into my heart. “No, Caspian, you didn’t do anything. I just… I don’t know, I guess I haven’t felt good,” I tried to brush it off, but Caspian wasn’t letting my hand go. I almost relished in that.

“Why didn’t you tell me? You know you can always come to me for anything. Maybe we can talk to Dr. Cornellius, maybe he can help you…” I cut him off before he could continue.

“Caspian, it’s fine. I’m not sick,” I reassured him, noticing his frown disappear slightly. “I guess, now that the war’s over… I’m feeling… weird?” I tried to explain, also knowing I wasn’t fully lying. “Like, I don’t have a purpose here anymore?”

“This is your home too,” his thumb stroked my hand.

“It used to.” 

He frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Everything is different now. Our home was here, centuries ago. And we eventually will have to go back to our own world,” I closed my eyes, feeling my heart aching once again as I recited the same words I had been saying to Caspian in my dreams, only this time, I was wide awake. “I don’t belong here anymore.”

With a soft smile, I squeezed Caspian’s hand and dropped it. He was too stunned to move, and I used the opportunity to turn around and head toward my room. The dress I was wearing flowed gracefully with every step, and despite its beauty, I couldn’t help but feel even more of a stranger. I was almost willing for Aslan to pull me out of Narnia and back to the train station, just waiting until everything was over and I could finally and painfully forget about Caspian if only to not suffer anymore about a love that couldn’t be.  

I reached my quarters and immediately took the dress off, not without difficulty. Winter was laying on my bed, watching me carefully, but as soon as I reached for my riding clothes she stood up and walked by my side, once again silently leaving the castle into the gardens surrounding it. Music and laughter could still be heard from the ball on the other side of the castle, inviting to join anybody who could hear, but I kept running in the opposite direction. I got on top of Winter and she swiftly ran to the woods, heading to Aslan’s How, not a word needed between the two. 

Aslan came back to Telmar the next morning, his presence almost illuminating the already warm-tinted stone walls of the Telmarine castle. The Pevensies and I shared a look, knowing we were all spending our last hours in Narnia. Even Caspian looked disheartened, despite the great respect he felt for the lion.

Preparations started immediately. The whole castle was to alert the Telmarine and Narnian villagers to gather at the town’s main square, and the rest of us were left to our own devices. From my balcony, I saw Aslan speaking with Peter and Susan, both of which had somber looks on their usually cheerful faces. I frowned at the sight, wondering what they could be possibly talking about. I saw Caspian exit one of the doors into the courtyard, briefly exchanging a few words with them, and just as I was about to leave the room, a few soft knocks on my door interrupted my actions.

Lucy’s head timidly appeared from the crack of the open door, smiling at me. “May I come in?” 

I grinned at her, motioning her in with my head. “You know you’re always invited,” she smiled as she crossed the door behind her and sat on my bed, stroking Winter on the head as she softly licked her hand in appreciation. 

“So…” she sighed, “Aslan’s here. Any idea why?” she asked with nervousness.

I exhaled, sitting next to her and taking her other hand in mine. “I think so,” I answered.

Lucy nodded at me, her expression sad. I hated seeing her like this. I took her in my arms, sending all the love I could muster into the hug. “I don’t wanna go back,” she said, her voice muzzled by my arm.

“I don’t wanna go either,” I replied, sighing deeply.

“We could riot,” Edmund’s voice made us turn our heads to the door where he stood, a grin on his face.

“Sure, let’s hide from Aslan, he definitely wouldn’t find us,” I joked as I motioned him to us. 

Edmund took large strides and dropped onto my bed, joining in the hug. Even Winter put her head on his leg.

Tears prickled my eyes, wishing we could all stay like this forever. 

“Alright, all of you, out, you need to get ready for Aslan’s audience,” Peter was now at the door, staring at us with a fond smile. I brushed the tears off my cheeks as Lucy and Edmund left, and Peter softly closed the door behind him as he made his way inside.

“We need to talk,” his expression was firm, his eyes red around the corners. 

“What’s wrong?” I stood up at his words, fearing whatever came next.

Peter sighed, his shoulders dropping. “Susan and I aren’t coming back.”

Something in me broke. “What do you mean, Pete?” my voice trembled.

“We spoke with Aslan. We learned our lesson. We won’t come back to Narnia,” his eyes filled with tears.

I stood frozen on the spot, registering his words. “But… that’s not possible…” I stammered, my head hurting from all the thoughts whirling inside. “So what? We leave and then what?” I paced around, looking anywhere but him. 

Although the prospect of leaving was imminent, I still felt the sadness crippling my lungs.

“That’s what we need to talk about,” Peter suddenly stood before me, gripping my shoulders, grounding me. “I talked to my parents before coming here. They said they found a nice house in America where we could stay. You, Su, and I will be finishing school soon, and my mom already talked to my uncles so Ed and Lu will stay with them. We have a cousin their age, too. I asked my mom if you could come with us, but…” I widened my eyes at his statement. 

I knew my situation was delicate, with both my parents dead and no relatives nearby. “I would be on my own,” I concluded. Tears fell freely off my cheeks, matching Peter, as I realized what my life was about to become without the Pevensies by my side. 

“I even tried convincing my aunt, but she already doesn’t like the idea of looking after three kids,” he was almost begging at this point. 

I looked at Peter one last time, knowing my path wasn’t next to his anymore. I grabbed his face before hugging him tightly, the unspoken goodbye between us heavy in the air.

With a pat on his back, we took a step back, gazing into each other’s eyes, relishing in our last moment together in Narnia. He left the room with a nod of his head, my heart beating fast as I stared at his retreating figure. 

The sun shone brightly on the castle. Everybody was still inside, getting ready in their finest robes, yet I stepped into the courtyard, trying to escape the anxious servants who ran around with a thousand chores in their heads. Winter stood next to me, always protectively, and we both halted as Aslan stood in the middle, almost impatiently.

“At last, young one,” he spoke calmly. “I feared you had gotten lost,” he didn’t move from his place, rather urging me forward to him.

I kneeled before him. “I truly think I am,” I answered, my head lowered in both respect and shame.

“One’s never truly lost. We are where we need to be at every moment, even if we don’t know it yet,” Aslan said.

I raised my head at him, standing straight before him. “Thank you again for Winter,” I said, stroking her head.

“What belongs to you will always find you,” he replied with a smile on his face. “But that’s not the reason you’re here now, is it?”

I almost choked on my words, for I didn’t know where to start. “I just… I don’t know what to do, Aslan,” I looked around, fearing anybody could hear. “I love him,” I shrugged my shoulders, “but I know that it won’t work.”

“Who’s to say it wouldn’t?” I almost laughed at him.

“We come from different worlds. And I just know our time here’s coming to an end,” I answered sadly. “You said there’s a lot more in store for me, but where? I don’t see it.”

“Young one, we don’t always get the exact answers we hope for,” Aslan spoke, his voice calm and gracious. “You will need to find your path on your own.”

“What if I fail?” I whispered.

“You’ve failed before.”

I exhaled heavily. “Yeah, and I almost died.”

“I told you it isn’t your time yet. Nor it won’t be for a long time,” Aslan’s words made me sharply turn my head to him.

My lips trembled, the picture slowly becoming more visible even though it was still blurry. “Then, what should I do? I have no life waiting for me on the other side.”

Aslan’s big paw patted my back comfortingly. “Trust and accept that there’s somebody out there willing to love you as much as you love them. Understand that great things will come your way and it doesn’t matter in which world you stay. Once you do, everything will fall into place,” he spoke wisely. 

My hands trembled at his words, carefully trying to analyze their meaning. For Aslan was giving me an alternative I didn’t even know existed, and now it was my choice to create my own path. 

“I think… I want to stay.”

Aslan nodded at me. “Then you shall.”

Next chapter

[hobidreams]

november 1869.

to remember what has been lost; to protect what still remains.

pairing: joseon king!yoongi x reader genre: drama. words: 2.4k contains: descriptions of blood/death, a reckoning.

moonlit throne index. this is drabble 26. start from the beginning?

Before Queen Jeonghui’s tomb, you stand with hands bowed in reverence, mind laden with warm memories as sticks of incense burn above your fingertips.

“We all miss you, daebi-mama. I hope you are resting well,” you murmur, letting the smoke mingle with your breath in the air as you bow, deeply. “Happy birthday.”

A little ways away, the single guard that accompanies you is also offering his thoughts to the raised, grassy mound that the queen lies beneath. You’re glad it’s Myungho to come with you today. He’s a good man, one who allows you as much freedom as possible. He understands your need to escape sometimes. Nearby, the horses you rode here are grazing on the field, quietly snorting as their tails swish from side to side.

As you look upon the tomb, you wonder wistfully if mother has found the queen in the spirit world. If they’re playing the game of janggi they so loved in life, when both could find the rare time to continue their decade-long (friendly) rivalry while indulging in cups of strong, dark tea. The thought brings a smile to your face even as fresh tears fall at the remembrance.

In your peripheral vision, you see a swish of fabric, the sign of someone approaching. You give one last bow and slot your incense in the traditional tray, realizing it must be time to leave before it gets too cold and your limbs begin to freeze even under the layers of clothes. You must go back eventually, you know it, but that doesn’t make it easier.

But when you turn, the man that stands beside you wears royal robes — the scarlet fabric and golden dragons unmistakable.

“Jeonha?”

The king’s face holds only sorrow as he holds matching incense in his hands. Staring straight ahead, he bends into a bow, dipping his head repeatedly low, low, lower until he’s almost on the dying, waterlogged grass with it, the lit grey tips flickering in the wind as they are nearly doused from the force of his movements. He bites his lip hard, so hard he draws blood as he punishes his own legs with the bows but he doesn’t stop.

You watch him with emotion clinging to your throat, but you swallow the questions you want to ask as you swipe at your wet cheeks. Why are you here? Why did you change your mind? How are you? Are you okay? All these impertinent questions are for you, to satisfy your own curiosity, and that’s not what he needs right now.

Quietly, steadily, you wait until he has finally stuck in the incense in the memorial ash. You wait until he opens his eyes, red-rimmed as they are, and finds your gaze.

“I… decided at the last moment,” he murmurs. “You… were right. I had to see her.”

You nod. Think you understand everything else he means as well, even if he’s left it unspoken. “Me too.”

“She would have liked that you’re here.”

That simple sentence threatens another wave of nostalgia and longing. You let it pull you under. Sink yourself into it. The mourning, the grief. And the love. The love that was there. The love that still remains, the traces of it held in you both. Your fingers twitch with a sudden, daring want to take his hand. To meet your palms and find the warmth and the life pulse that beats so closely, so resolutely just beneath the surface despite all this pain and all this loss. If you could just reach out. If you could just take another risk…

“Jeonha, run!”

The scream comes from the hill behind you. You both whirl.

The head of the royal guard comes running over with his sword drawn. His teeth are grit, hair blown from the wind that sweeps through the grass, rippling. His blade is already stained with a color that makes your stomach lurch at the implication.

“Hoseok— What’s going on?” The king yells back.

“Rebels! An ambush. We don’t have enough men!”

These few seconds are all the warning you get.

An incredible roar of voices comes exploding up and then you see them. The thick crowd of men that come surging over the hill, fighting their way towards you. The unforgettable clatter of metal on metal desecrates this once-sacred ground. Your legs go soft as you panic, scrambling. You’re trying not to watch as guards and rebels alike are cut down, but the enemies are steadily advancing still. What should you do? Where should you go?

“Myungho, get the horses!” The king barks out. But one look at the steeds tells you that they’re frightened, rearing back as men descend upon them. They’re off, running away on instinct to preserve their own lives while damning yours.

“Jeonha, what are your orders?” Myungho’s grip on his weapon is tight.

“Go. Help Hoseok.”

“Yes, jeonha!”

But as the battle wears on, the dread in you only grows. The king’s men are skilled, but it seems there were only a few to begin with. They are overwhelmed by sheer numbers, yelling for jeonha to escape but he doesn’t move. You don’t know what to do. You are at a complete loss, standing beside him with fingers growing steadily numb. You have to do something. You— You can’t just let it end here, at the hands of these men bellowing with violence and anger and pain.

“Jeonha, w-we have to run,” you stutter, forcing yourself to move, tugging at the fabric of his robes. But when you look back at the opposite side, your only escape route, a throng of rebels come scattering across the grass. Cutting you off; rendering you helpless.

“Myungho, cover the rear!” Hoseok spits out as he takes down another three by himself, the quick whip of his blade reflecting a beam of sun. But even he, with two other guards in front, cannot hold all of them off, though there are less of the rebels now that remain standing.

Caught in the middle, you can only watch your allies strain and sweat. In your heart, you promise desperately that you heal them in the end, if only they will hold on now.

With an awful cry, one of the guards hits the ground and a rebel uses that chance. Breaks through the line of defense and charges right towards you both.

“Fuck the king!” He yells, his face smeared with dirt, his sword raised as his bare feet trip upon the grass but he just keeps coming somehow and you have no weapons and you have no shields but the very first instinct, the most primal one you have is to throw yourself in front of the king and take his pain for him and—

Hoseok dispatches the rebel from behind just as you move a single step forward.

“You…” The king’s voice is hoarse. His eyes are wide with shock as he stares at you, at what you just did. Then he’s shoving you aside and stooping to pick up the abandoned sword from the ground.

You realize what he means when he sweeps up his sleeves, adjusts his grip on the worn handle. “Wait, no, jeonha, you cannot—”

“Stay behind me.”

“I cannot allow you to—”

“Do not argue with me.”

Again, he leaves you with no choice but to watch his back.

Fear pounds away in your body like a thousand drums, thunder booming through the pulse of your clenched heart in your ears as the king takes a first brutal swing at an enemy. Somewhat out of practice against the towering man, he’s shoved back by the sheer force of the clash, feet skidding across the wet grass but he refuses to yield. Stubborn as he always is, he rushes in again only to be pushed back. Again.

The king tilts his blade, slices it quick only to have one sent right back at him, barely missing his shoulder by an inch. He doesn’t even flinch as he stands firm. Adapts in the moment and tries a new strategy, a new tactic that has him spinning, robes fluttering in the winter air as his shuddering breath comes out in a puff of white and ends in a fury of red. And again. And again until finally, finally, only the strongest of the rebels remain standing with the few allies you left, along with your brutal, bloodied king.

Before you, all the men are panting, open mouthed, every last one of them desperate for a victory that spells the doom of the other.

“Come on then,” the king goads, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand in a show of nonchalance even though he’s obviously fatigued. “Attack.”

“You little shit!”

This man is enormous, easily a head above the king and he’s strong, muscles bulging from his torn tunic as he thrusts the sword ahead with surprising speed. The quick rush of air slices through two layers of robes, splitting the dirtied fabric open as the king narrowly escapes without a new scar. But his return stab doesn’t meet a mark and he’s slow on the rebound, steps lost some of the agility he had at the start.

Please. Please, you beg to whatever god may be listening, don’t let him die. But that rebel seems to have an endless strength as he forces the king back, meets him blow for blow for blow and you are so worried, terrified you’re going to see his last moments like this. Like this you will have been with him until the end just like you once stupidly wished. You’re so caught up you don’t realize what’s going on behind you.

“Su-uinyeo-nim! Watch out!” Myungho’s voice cracks as he cries your name, but you turn too slow. Myungho’s on the ground and the rebel that beat him is sprinting towards you, savagery in his scowl, his crude axe already suspended in mid-swing, just a few more steps, just one more shove to land right across your heart and you, you who has never held a weapon before in her life, you who has lived to heal and mend instead of hurt, what can you do right now but die?

“No!”

The scream is hoarse, a furious sound matched with a rush of robes that whip past your own.

You peel open your eyes in time to watch the king take the axe blow meant for you with his left arm. Despite his bark of pain, he swings with his right in exchange and it’s enough. The rebel falls, his axe plummeting uselessly beside him. Then the king falters too, sword clattering down as he finally drops to his knees.

“Jeonha!” You scramble to him. “Oh god, oh god, jeonha, why did you do that— Jeonha, how could you do such a thing? Jeonha!” You part the stained robes, stomach churning at the raw sight of his sacrifice. “We need to fetch you help. You need medicine, oh god, oh god.” This is panic like you’ve never felt it before as you look around, as if some miracle could occur, as if it hasn’t already occurred by the fact that you’re both still alive.

To one side, Hoseok is alone, gasping hard with the enormous rebel lying prone beside him, evidently having finished him off. Myungho has a gash running down his side, but he’s crawling towards you both still with a hand pressed to his wound for pressure. There is no one else. You have to do this on your own. You have to calm the hell down.

Using the nearby sword, you force yourself to focus and stop shaking as you cut strips of the inner layer of your skirt. You have to save his arm even as nausea swims in your mind, nerves making you want to empty your stomach.

“Hah...” The king’s chest lurches as he struggles for air. His eyes are hazy but he manages to fix them on you, as if to ground himself. “You’re… safe?”

Nodding frantically, you start to wrap the cloth around him, willing your fingers not to slip. “I-It’s deep, jeonha. Your wound is so deep.” You’re quietly sobbing as you tie the makeshift bandage to stop the worst of the bleeding. How could he be thinking of you at a time like this? It must hurt excruciatingly so, yet he is still trying to be strong.

Beside you, Hoseok is carrying Myungho’s weight, using the extra cloth to help his ally with his limited medical training.

“…Hoseok.” The king sucks in another long breath. “They… Those rebels were peasants, weren’t they?”

“Yes, jeonha… I think they were.”

He accepts this knowledge silently as you finish your preliminary treatment, but lack the resources to do anything else. You stare at the fresh red seeping through the flimsy cloth and hope desperately that it will be enough for now, until one of you can return to the palace and gather reinforcements to take you home. Feeling your fingers stop, he immediately tries to move his arm but winces, bites his lip at the sudden jolt.

“Don’t move, please,” you instantly say.

The king huffs a long, exhausted sigh as he sinks into the ground. Lets the tension seep out of him, though likely not by choice. His dark eyes flicker to the tomb briefly before they slide closed, the scar ever slashed startlingly crimson across the right side. Despite his best attempts, he is still winded, depleted. Human, after all. After all of this.

You brush matted strands of light hair away from his forehead, and pat at the drops of sweat that linger and prove how hard he pushed himself to fight. He shifts into your touch like a stray animal, allowing you take care of him for once without argument until his breaths even some, settling only in your arms.

“It seems it’s been a long time,” he says softly after a moment, his eyes remaining shut.

“Since?”

“Since I’ve protected someone.”

Your pulse catches. Blood thrums through you as you whisper, “but you did.” Your voice is viscous with relief, and gratitude. “You did.”

Only now do you dare to reach for his hand, to lend him some of your strength, even though you have seen again just how much of it he already holds in himself.

Wrapped in your warmth, he squeezes back just the once. Lets you know he is here, he is here, he is here with you still.

a/n: because i could never forget the way he wielded that sword in the mv. so... how you feel about our king now?

[blrush]

If Nobleman Ryu’s Wedding was a serious drama with hour long episodes - Part 2: Newlyweds.

In his dream Ho Seon was blind, reaching out for something he could not find. Lights and shadows danced around him, but he couldn’t find what he was looking for. Drowning in confusion and a profound sense of loneliness, he kept reaching out and stumbling through empty space. Then his hands fell upon a face - he drew his fingers across smooth skin, tracing the outlines of features – the curvature of a small button nose, heart shaped lips – Ahhh, he knew this person, this was his person, he felt relieved, calmed and reassured – the dream faded away and he fell back into a deep drunken sleep.

As morning light filtered into the room, Ho Seon awoke to the same sense of loneliness. The bed was cold and empty beside him, as it was every morning. He rubbed cracked sleep from his eyes and saliva from his cheek, his mouth was still furry from alcohol. Then the events of the night before came flooding back – drunk, celebrating, the wedding – THE WEDDING! He was married. He looked around the room, and found the figure of a woman sitting away from him, her back turned as she tied her robes. Had she slept beside him? Had they slept together? No impossible, if he had been too drunk to remember the events of the evening then he certainly would have been too drunk to participate in any marriage nuptials.

What must she think of him? To get himself so drunk, and pay her no attention on their wedding night. But he had been so scared, so desperately at a loss as to how to behave, or how to speak to her. This wedding was a sham, and his overriding guilt had made him drink himself into a stupor. She must have figured out something was wrong – what kind of noble marriage is organised in a fortnight, and then rushed through without her family or any friends present? She must have felt like a prize pig, being trundled up and carted off to some town she’d never visited, to marry a man she’d never even met.

Worst of all, she didn’t know the true flaws of her new husband, nor the real reason for this pretence. How disappointed she would be when she found out.

Even if he had been sober on their wedding night, he would not have been able to consummate their marriage. He had only been with a woman once, and once was enough for him. The thought of lying with a woman had never appealed to him – when his friends had come of age, they began visiting bars and brothels, eagerly encouraging him to join them. The only time he had been with a woman was with a kisaeng on a visit to the city.

His friends had insisted that he “wet his whistle”, as he was getting too old to be a virgin. They were all drinking happily with kisaeng girls in their laps, and were slowly peeling off to their rooms for the night. He had barely spoken to the girl beside him, who eventually gave up, and was attending far more diligently to his friend, who now had two girls on either side of him, playfully planting kisses on his cheeks and giggling with each other. When it was time to retire, his friend pulled him up by his collar, and dragged him with them to their room. The women began undressing them both, kissing his chest and running long fingers-nails up and down his arms. His nerves and discomfort must have been evident to the experienced kisaeng woman who gently guided him into the activities, placing her hand over his, and telling him where to touch herself and other girl. It was all overwhelming and confusing. His senses felt heightened, and his nervous energy was dancing about his body. Eventually, in the dark milieu of bodies, he accidentally touched his friend’s body – his broad flat chest and stomach felt taught and firm, completely different from the women, and it sent a ripple of arousal shooting through him – he kept touching. Slowly, his friend noticed, and quickly drew himself back, placing one of the girls between them. The shame of that moment had stayed with him for years, and he had not had the courage to sleep with another woman, or man, since.

Of course, he could not hide this disinterest in courtship from his mother for long. He was certain she would catch on, even if he would joking brush off her questions with a charming smile that would show his dimples and say; “Oh but Mother, you know I could never leave you!” or “But Mother, no woman could ever live up to you!” His mother was a warm and kind person, but she was no fool – she was a keen observer of people’s moods and behaviours, she always said she could spot a crook, swindler, or cheat a mile away.

He had once had a friend from school whom he played with often, but his mother would always warn him “Don’t get too close to that boy, he’s no good – he’ll betray you one day.” Their friendship eventually broke down after he stole a valuable book from Ho Seon, and years later when they crossed paths, he had boasted that he “had so many wives and courtesans” that he “could never tell which child belonged to which woman.”

And so, he knew he could never fool a mother such as his – but he was happy living in denial for as long as he could. Whilst it took him by surprise, he was thus not so utterly shocked when she announced she had “had enough” of his “indecision and adolescent brooding” and that she had told his great-uncle in the city to find him a fit young wife as soon as possible.

Ho Seon also knew, deep down, that there was something more to it than just her stubbornness, or any sort of social pressure. His mother had been growing weaker each year, losing her vision and the dexterity in her hands. He noticed that she no longer enjoyed sewing or drawing, she who had once been such an accomplished and artistic lady – now preferred to spend her time weeding the garden or walking. Every turn of season, as winter came around, she would be laid up in the house for weeks, with a cough so hoarse and violent that he feared she would soon lose her voice all together. She was desperate for him to marry, not only so there would be more young women around the manor to help her – but he suspected, so that she could be sure their family line was secure, and that Ho Seon could provide her with grandchildren before she passed away.

On his first morning as a newlywed, he thus did not feel a sense of joy or excitement, but a sad kind of submission to his new life and a guilt and pity for the girl sat before him – who would be resigned, unknowingly, to a marriage to a man who could not truly ever love her or tend to her in the way a husband should.

No. That was not fair. He should strive instead to be a good husband, to dote on her and care for her as much as he could. When it came to physical intimacy, he would have to speak with her candidly, and be honest about his feelings. But, if she was a young maid this might all be too shocking – what if she is so disgusted by him that she never spoke to him again? What if she reports him to his family or the court, or demands an annulment? 
He would have to careful. He would have to get to know her first, to determine her character properly, before deciding how much he should tell her, or how much he could trust her.

He sat up, and cleared his throat so she would know he was awake. She turned slowly toward him and gave a small bow of her head. She was indeed a beauty, but unusual looking all the same. A king of striking beauty, rather than the soft round faces of the young maids in town, or the plump young pregnant wives of his friends – she had more angular features and sharp narrow eyes, that seemed to observe him with a severity and maturity that he did not expect from someone so young – as if she might pull a dagger out from her sleeve at any moment if he moved the wrong way.

“Good morning.” He began, unsure of himself, but wanting to put her at ease. He raised himself up onto his knees. “I’m sorry I drank so much last night. Please excuse my behaviour.” He gave a deep bow.

~ ~ ~

Ho Seon was on his hands and knees on the bed, bowing toward Ki Wan. He didn’t know how to respond. It seemed Ho Seon was impossible to predict. Ki Wan had expected the arrogant bravado of a wealthy only-son of a noble family – and yet was confronted last night and now again this morning, with a gentle, humble, young man whose manner seemed so deeply genuine that it was making Ki Wan feel embarrassed. He felt like he was playing a trick on a child. He must come clean. But how could he reveal himself now? To do so would be to make a fool out of Ho Seon and ruin any chance Ki Wan might have of salvaging a plan, an alliance, or even a friendship with the man. So, he continued to stay quiet – fearing that his voice alone might give the game away. He nodded politely to acknowledge Ho Seon’s gesture, and when Ho Seon smiled at him – he felt himself smile back.

“Shall we go find breakfast?” Ho Seon began, brightly.

Just then, there was a knock at the door. Ki Wan felt panicked for a moment, before a woman’s voice came muffled through the doors.

“It’s only me! Are you two awake? Would you like some breakfast?”

Ho Seon rolled his eyes pointedly, and mouthed “my mother” at Ki Wan, who felt himself smiling again. His stomach was in knots, he was so filled with guilt and fear that he felt sick – and yet Ho Seon was so effortlessly charming, his kindness was so disarming, that Ki Wan felt an immediate sense of kindship and attraction – he wanted to be friends with this nobleman – and perhaps, if they had met under different circumstances, they could have been.

More gentle rapping at the door, and then Ho Seon’s mother announced more loudly “Are you awake? I’m coming in.”

Suddenly Ho Seon was a flurry of movement, he jumped up, messed up all the bedding, threw a pillow halfway across the room, and raced over to sit beside Ki Wan. Ki Wan gave Ho Seon a look of confusion, at which Ho Seon gave back an obtuse expression as if to say “You knowwww…” and leaned close to Ki Wan.

“So it looks like we… ” Ho Seon whispered to Ki Wan, his face intentionally turned away from the door – his cheek almost brushing Ki Wan’s own, as he leaned in close.

Oh. Ki Wan had read about these things before, and seen illustrations. He understood perfectly well – in theory – what was expected of a man and woman on their wedding night, but the thought suddenly made him blush.

It was precisely then, of course, that Ho Seon’s mother opened the door and entered the room. Finding them sitting conspiratorially close, Ki Wan blushing quite literally ‘like a bride’. She looked overjoyed at the sight, as she carried in a tray of breakfast.

“I know I should have sent the maid.” She began, “But I was too excited to see you!”

She lay the tray down on the table and sat herself down opposite them. She eyed the bedding, strewn across the room and giggled to herself.

“I remember when your father and I were first married, we couldn’t keep our hands off each other!” She laughed.

“Mother!” Ho Seon objected.

“What!? You’re a married man now! You can’t be shy about these things!” She gave him a playful slap on the arm.

“You will embarrass her!”

“Ahhh yes, yes. Sorry dear. Please don’t mind me, I’m just an old widow – I speak too freely. You will get used to it.” She smiled openly at Ki Wan, her cloudy grey eyes crinkling shut, and her deep dimples still visible beneath her wrinkles and laugh lines. There was no mistaking that Ho Seon was indeed her son.

Suddenly Ki Wan felt filled with motivation – if he could keep up his charade, perhaps he could really be welcomed into this family as a daughter in-law. Wouldn’t it be nice to be surrounded by such kind and loving people who smiled so much? But how? Perhaps just for a little while, and then he would run away, feign a kidnapping, or an affair, or better yet – his own death. And then what? Go back to his life as Ki Wan? What was so appealing about that? He had no trade or skill, he was an under-educated noble-man from a fallen family without connections to get him a decent court job. No, it seemed the best chance at a life that would keep his belly full and a roof over his head would be to stay here. His only option was to somehow make an ally of his husband. In his desperation and loyalty to his own family, he had unwittingly made himself a prisoner of this family, and of his own lie that he was now forced to follow through.

“Come, eat – you must both be hungry!” She laughed again.

Ki Wan began to help himself, before remembering there was probably some custom or etiquette he was forgetting – was he supposed to serve his husband first? He had no idea. Luckily Neither Ho Seon nor his mother seemed phased, as they had both started eating. Ho Seon simply filled Ki Wan’s bowl with more food, and poured them both some tea. If Ho Seon made one more kind gesture, Ki Wan feared he may break down and cry.

“Come here daughter!” His mother in-law chimed up. “Let me look at you properly.”

Ki Wan sat frozen in his place, if he got too close – surely she would notice! He looked to Ho Seon who was obliviously munching on his breakfast happily.

“Come on! I don’t bite I promise!” She demanded.

Ki Wan shuffled closer to her around the table, his heat beat erratic. He kept trying to look down at his hands. She then reached up to grab his chin, turning his face this way and that – she moved her own face closer and then further away, like she was examining a chip or crack in some piece of fine porcelain, deciding whether to fix it or throw it away.

“My eyesight’s not what it used to me” she said, “But I can tell you are a real beauty. Let me see your hands.” He was practically shaking! Surely, she would tell by his hands! She grabbed at them, turning them over, feeling the skin between her own small papery palms.

“Good! Strong hands, not too soft!” She declared, “I can’t stand women who don’t do any work. I don’t like to keep too many maids – I hate having strangers in my house. I’ve kept the same maids since I was married, and I won’t be hiring a new one for you until you have children. So, I hope you are happy to tend to some of your own chores, we all chip-in around here.”

Ki Wan felt she needed an answer to this, so he gave a simple but firm “Mmm!” in as high a pitch as he could manage without it sounding put-on.

After breakfast, Ho Seon’s mother took Ki Wan on a tour of the manor - showing her which buildings were for what purposes, which gardens Ki Wan was free to use, pointing out with pride the recent flowers and plants she had been growing.

Ho Seon fell in step behind them, letting his mother chatter away happily with her new companion – who she didn’t let go of even for a moment - clutching onto Ki Wan’s arm the entire time. At first Ki Wan thought she was just so pleased to have a daughter in-law, but after a while, he realised she was using him more for balance and strength.

“You don’t talk much!” She proclaimed at one point. It didn’t sound accusatory, more of an observation.

“She’s just shy mother.” Ho Seon piped up from behind them, “You can be very intimidating you know. How could she get a word in anyway?”

His mother laughed at this, “You’re right haha! I do talk too much! Sorry dear, you take your time once you’ve gotten used to life here, feel free to speak openly with me – no need to be formal or stand on ceremony.”

Ki Wan was grateful, once again he had managed to avoid the issue of speaking. His natural voice was not so deep that it would give him away as a man, but it was deep enough that if he tried too hard to put on a woman’s voice, or raise his pitch too much, it would sound forced and that was what he feared would give him away.

~ ~ ~

In the evening Ho Seon’s mother mentioned that should like to have some dresses made up for Ki Wan, and that she would need to take her measurements. The look of abject horror on Ki Wan’s face must have been enough for Ho Seon to jump to her defence and make an excuse.

“I think my wife is a little tired mother, it’s been a long day in a new home, I think we should just go and rest.”

“Oh ho! I see” She looked knowingly, “I know how much you must want to “rest” haHA!” She joked in her usual good-natured way. “But I do need those measurements if I am to send them off to the seamstress. Your wife only bought one good dress you know! No daughter of the Ryu family can be seen wearing the same single garment every day, people will think we’re gone broke!”

“Yes yes, okay mother.” Ho Seon replied, “We can manage it ourselves I’m sure, just lend me the tape and we will give you her measurements tomorrow.”

~ ~ ~

In their bridal house alone once again, Ki Wan realised he was indeed as tired as Ho Seon had claimed. The emotion and exhaustion of the last two days had caught up to him, he had barely slept the last two nights – preparing himself at home, then being on watch all last night, hoping Ho Seon had drunk enough not to wake up or drunkenly attempt to consummate their marriage. All day, around his mother, Ki Wan had been supressing his natural self – don’t move too much, don’t speak, don’t laugh. It was totally unnatural and he was completely drained.

Whilst Ho Seon tended to the heating and the candles, Ki Wan began removing his hair pins, and taking off his jacket without even thinking about what he was doing. Somehow, alone in this little room – he had already accepted this as his new home, a space where he felt safe and comfortable.

Ho Seon had removed his hat and his own outer-layer and was standing somewhat awkwardly aside, fiddling with something in his hand.

“I suppose, we should take your measurements for my mother – otherwise she will not leave you in peace tomorrow.”

Ki Wan nodded. Ho Seon fiddled with the tape in his hand then almost tossed it at Ki Wan, before getting out a piece of parchment, some ink, and seating himself down at the table.

He cleared his throat “If you take the measurements, I will write them down for you.”

Ki Wan nodded again, and began unravelling the tape. He had helped his sister with this task once before, but it was a lot easier to do on someone else than on one’s self. He stretched the tape out, holding it taught between his fingers in one hand, and pulling it up to his shoulder with the other. He repeated this step with the other arm, though the tape came lose this time from his fingers and he had to start again.

Ho Seon stood up from the table. “May I …. Would you like me to help?”

Frustrated, but grateful, Ki Wan nodded again. This was all so absurd, but the sooner they could complete the task the sooner Ki Wan could fall asleep – and then all these problems would seem like a dream, and he wouldn’t have to worry about it all again until morning. The bed looked so warm and inviting, and he hadn’t even been able to sleep on it last night. Ho Seon approached him cautiously in the half-light, and Ki Wan handed him the tape.

~ ~ ~

Standing in front of his new wife in the candle-light, Ho Seon was once again struck by her beauty. Her distinctive bone structure was casting incredible shadows across her face and bare skin where she had removed her jacket. The white ribbons of her undergarments only accentuated the shape of her collarbones more, and he couldn’t help but stare.

He must have been staring too openly, as she brought her arms up to cover herself more, hugging her shoulder and covering her chest. She looked frightened. He shook himself and took a small step back, averting his eyes to the floor.

“Sorry.” He said. “I shouldn’t have stared. I will just take the measurements. Sorry if I touch you, I will try not to.”

He took the tape and began focusing on his task, trying desperately to look only at the tape and not her body. As he worked back and forth between her and his parchment, where he scribbled the measurements, he thought to himself; why do I feel so nervous? She is my wife, surely, I am allowed to look at her and admire her? But when before had he ever wanted to admire the form and body of a woman? This was an entirely new development. Perhaps because she was his wife? Perhaps he felt differently toward her than other women? Was this what happened when you were married? Perhaps one is instinctively drawn to their spouse in a way that does not apply other people?

But, regardless of his own new feelings, or his desire and curiosity to explore them, she was clearly still uncomfortable around him. She still refused to speak, she seemed perpetually guarded and fearful. Yet, it did not strike him that she was fearful of him, rather she was on edge – fearful of everything around her, like she was going to run away at any moment. Indeed, he sensed she was somehow calmer around him than his mother – which seemed to him to be counter-intuitive for a young bride.

He took a step closer, and reached the tape gently around her ribcage and brought it together under her breastbone. They were standing so close now, as he looked down he could have smelled her hair or kissed her forehead. He watched her chest quickly moving up and down with her breath, and he fought the urge to touch her there. It would have been uninvited, and he had promised not to.

For the last measurements, he first took one end of the tape and held it against the top of her shoulder.

“Hold this, please.” He asked her. He felt he had barely whispered it, but the room was so quiet that his voice seemed to echo in the space. He could hear her breathing, short and sharp like she was trying to control it or stop herself from making any sound. Why was she so scared? What kind of home life had she come from, or what kind of married life had she been expecting that she should have reason to be so scared? He drew the tape down to floor where the touched the top of her foot. Then he tugged on it for her to let go. Kneeling down in front of her, he took the tape once more – this time wrapping it around her hips, pulling it tightly to compensate for her large skirts, holding it in place with his hand on her lower abdomen.

Whilst reading the tape he felt her move just slightly and her breath almost stop, as if she was holding it. Out of the corner of his eye his saw her hand move from her side toward him. At first, he thought she was going to push him away, but instead all he felt was the most delicate of touches - she drew the back of her hand softly across his temple, from his brow to his ear, as if she was wiping away a bead of sweat. Then, she quickly withdrew her hand and stepped away from him – leaving him frozen, kneeling on the floor.

TBC (Other parts here!)

Authors Note: Well this is getting VERY out of hand, I’m now at like 8000 words and this is just scenes based only on the first 2 episodes haha

I have changed a lot of the plot from the show for the sake of my own continuity, and to raise the tension and the drama cause we need some FLAVOUR. Namely, I have kept KiWan’s identity and gender a secret for the TENSION and have established Ho Seon as gay, for the dramatic irony. Get ready for some ANGST in the next chapters, shit’s gonna get real.

Note: Kiseang were Joseon era courtesans and sex-workers. Not that historical accuracy is top of my priority list haha

I think I will have to post on AO3 for ease of reading and keeping track. Link to come when I have time tomorrow.

Sorry this is still unedited - but if I keep going I will ask for a beta haha

Enjoy!

[i-love-side-characters]

my gift to you: more curaday headcannons bc i’m just as obsessed with them as you are

- …they fought over blankets in bed.

- teasing was a main component in their relationship, but they both know it was out of love.

- faraday won’t admit it, but he’s a total romantic. sometimes he surprised curie with flowers/gifts and she loves it.

- they had movie nights where they cuddle up (with tea!) and watch mortal age films.

- they both love talking trash on scythes they dislike and discussing general scythedom drama.

- in the beginning of their relationship, faraday was def a bit emotionally shy but he warmed up.

- they once wore each other’s robes just out of curiosity.

- they absolutely argued abt who gets to control the music in the car.

- in hindsight, their relationship was obvious to their scythe friends, but no one saw it in the moment.

- faraday is always much more relaxed/carefree around curie. his facade of “very serious, scary scythe,” begins to fade around her.

- curie’s badassery is something faraday actually adores, he thinks she’s so cool.

- which is funny bc those roles used to be the opposite during their first interactions.

okay wait i have so much to say about these ill just respond to each

- yes yes yes please absolutely i loved that also i get vibes that faraday is always cold so he cannot sleep without a blanket and curie is very inconsistent with her blanket-using

- absolutely. there are absolutely teasing about their names, their political goofs, slipups, but yes out of love

- okay i get faraday-is-a-romantic thing but faraday-is-super-awkward-all-the-timeis my favourite thing. lets comprimise and say i need awkward faraday who can also be mr. steal your girl every now and then. get you a man who can do both.

- curie likes horror movies. faraday likes dramas. a fun balance, for sure. also im saying right now their favourite movie is the princess and the frog because fuck you

- i would totally agree except i feel like faraday isn't really the type to trash on other scythe so i raise you: curie and faraday swapping gossip like the bros they are. also curie and constantine absolutely sit in the back and bitch about scythes those two are besties

- awkward faraday my beloved <3

- ALRIGHT SOMEONE NEEDS SO DRAW CURIE IN FARADAY'S TOO-BIG-FOR-HER ROBE PLEASE AND THANK YOU

- yes absolutely i need faraday who listens to david bowie and curie who listens to queen and now i must press my agenda on you: killer queen by queen is absolutely curie's song she loves it so much (also the young! curie vibes are there). also they both love joni michell because i said so

- yes <3

- yes definitely i also feel like the both let down their guard around each other a lot more than with other scythes.

- faraday is a himbo and i will DIE on this hill okay??? i know himbo suggests he's dumb but fuck you my main man faraday is totally a curie fan (as we all are) we love to see it feminist king 👑

if you’re not a coward here’s my askbox

[thegracelessfaceless]

Sound Effects and Overdramatics (Ticci Toby x Nurse Grace) 20.

(AN: So I picked first person for now 😅 that might change later, but for now, we'll stick with this) Thank you so much for reading! If you like this, it's part of a very long ongoing series and you can find all the other chapters here. If you aren't following or just want updates, go ahead and give me a follow. I also put out drawings and have a friend who is making a soundtrack to go with this fic!

Triggers: allusion to r*pe, arranged marriage,

Toby and I sat on the couch and Slenderman turned in his chair, crossing his long skinny legs ankle over knee. He threaded his fingers together, holding his knee as Toby threw an arm over the back of the plush white couch and I leaned into his body as I sat back. Slowly, and not lacking the appropriate amount of drama, Slenderman began to tell Toby and me everything we needed to know about Zalgo.

'Mother came from a dimension very, very far from here. She had been matched with a king from a neighboring realm. Your human minds cannot even begin to comprehend Mother's language, so I will give them names you can process better. Mother was matched with the formidable King of Nightmares, and she knew she must obey, for it was her High Priestess who declared the match. To refuse would have been to be shunned for eternity.'

Slenderman paused before continuing, 'However, Mother loved another, the King of Nightmares' rival, Father of Day. Mother had gained his favor centuries before the matching, and upset, Mother ran to him instead of her intended. She spent one, passionate day with him. The next morning, the King of Nightmares, who had started searching for his new bride, found them and slayed Father of Day and dragged Mother from his bed. I'm certain I shouldn't need to retell what happened next.' He looked down, shaking his head.

Every time Slenderman said a name, it sounded garbled and another voice of a slightly different, but montonous tone inserted the names Slenderman gave the beings in his story. My heart wept for Mother. She had only wanted to be with the one she loved, but the forces that be in her world had forced her to marry some king who was scary enough to be called the King of Nightmares.

'Females of our kind differ from human females in small ways biologically, the biggest being that, like most of the mammalian creatures inhabiting this planet, they can become impregnated by more than one male at a time, especially very fertile females. Such was the case with Mother, as she had two mates reproduce with her within one day cycle, and she was very fecund. Mother became pregnant with twins, my brother and me. Another difference is that pregnancies last for much longer, years instead of months. She donned a mask to cover her face, and wore flowing robes that covered her from any eyes view. Since Mother was carrying twins, one of which was royal, the palace doctors placed her on very strict bedrest.' Slenderman chuckled a little and moved, stretching out his legs before crossing his other ankle on the opposite knee. 'Mother became fond of looking in on other realities and planets. It was very much like when you humans watch television. And she grew enamored with one planet in particular, here. She fell in love with the scenery and creatures here, so, she gathered all of her strength and left one moon. She traveled here and never looked back, but continued to cover her visage. She befriended a witch who took her in and when the time came, delivered Zalgo and myself into existence, first me, then Zalgo ten minutes later.'

Some small movement under Slenderman's skin gave me the impression that he was smiling fondly, 'She says that I look just like my father, Father of Day. And Zalgo reminds her so much of King of Nightmares. So naturally, I became her favorite. And Zalgo has made that a continual bone of contention.'

Slenderman was quiet for a moment, thinking, then said, 'Zalgo incurred Mother's wrath when he created a plague in 1347. I believe that one was called 'The Black Death'. She drew and quartered him and then put him in stasis for centuries. We woke him in 1900, but he set Paris on fire, killing even more, and then invited us to tea. So we went, and Mother put him back to sleep. He must have started dreaming, found Jeffery and Natalie through their nightmares, and then enlisted them as his proxies for when he awoke. If enough deaths are caused in his name, the power he gains from each death could be enough to not only wake him, but give him enough power to rise to his full embodiment.'

"It doesn't really surprise me that he picked Jeff and Natalie" Toby said, "of all of us, they were always the closest to embracing their insanity."

'You are correct, Tobias, Zalgo likely noticed that trait and took advantage of it in order to manipulate them more soundly.' He rubbed his chin, 'Now, we must locate and round up troops for you to command, Tobias, for Zalgo cannot be allowed to rise and meet his full power. That would bring about the apocalypse, or Zalgo's version of it. Four hundred years of suffering as he claims this land as his new Realm of Nightmares and carries on his father's legacy. It will become a hellscape, much like his father's realm. Do you understand the urgency to defeat him? He will only cause death and destruction. Zalgo hates everything Mother and I enjoy. Mother and I value human life, as it is our life source, but Zalgo has no regard for humans or their home. He views humans as tools or objects of amusement for him to use as he pleases. He would destroy you all in spite. None of you would be safe. Tobias, Grace. He would kill you first. Grace first to cause Tobias to suffer, then Tobias to make me suffer as he is my favorite. And in order to make Mother suffer, he would attempt to slay me. Again.'

Slenderman had become so impassioned that he had stood from his chair to pace a narrow track between the opposite couch and the coffee table. I didn't point out that I thought Slenderman was just as manipulative, if not more, than his twin brother. He had offered me and Toby nothing but kindness, and he, at least, valued human life to some point, even if it was to meet his own ends. This made him the lesser of two evils.

"I don't want to live through Zalgo's reign" I said softly, "so I'll risk dying to take him out."

"Agreed" Toby said, squeezing my hand gently.

It was decided that Toby and I would start visiting recruits tomorrow, along with investigating any suspicious activity that could be related to Zalgo's coming. Slenderman dismissed me and Toby and I followed him to the door.

"Do you want me to go with you, or do you want to try it alone again?" Toby asked as he played with my fingers, running his fingertips over my knuckles distractedly.

"Hmm" I thought, "I think I'll try alone again. After all, you won't always be able to hold my hand, I'm sure."

Toby gave me a funny little smile, "I will as long as you let me, but I like that you want to learn to do this on your own. I'll meet you in our rooms."

He opened the door and walked through. I followed him and we were both met by Mother and her fog. We crossed the void to our bedroom door, me, keeping the warm autumn colored room in the front of my mind. But just as Toby passed through the doorway, the fog cleared enough that I could see another figure in the void.

They wore an aged bone colored dress that hung to their feet in tatters, just covering white Victorian style boots with tiny buttons. A brown corset that looked like leather covered their tiny waist, no doubt pulled as tightly as breath would allow. The bodice of the dress was also bone white and showed in slits in the corset and the cups of the decolletage of the dress. Safe to say from the ample bosom in the dress that the figure was female in sex. A shawl in matching white covered the figures head and hung down their shoulders and back to their knees. The face was indistinguisgable at this distance, blurring solid black in all the white cloth that adorned them.

Strangely, I didn't feel fear when I saw this person. They stood so far away as it was. Then Mother's fog enveloped me again and I opened the door in front of me, picturing the bedroom. And then I stepped through.

The Figure in the Void

[muninnhuginn]

I'm probably forgetting some instances here and my chronology may be muddled because this is mostly off the top of my head (edit: okay nvm I rewatched the specific bits), but I really love how white is used in Wen Kexing's wardrobe in association with "Zhen Yan". And in some ways with turning points of his overall character arc throughout the series.

I'm going to go through this in the order these events happened to wkx rather than in series order just to follow through the chara better. Mentioning beforehand as well though I'm guessing most people reading this will already know that white tends to symbolise stuff like purity/innocence and, most importantly to this, death in Chinese culture.

Okay, so when we first meet wkx as a child as a disciple with zzs, he's wearing white robes. He's a fairly innocent kid at this stage and he was allowed to have a pretty happy childhood overall (even if he later regretted not studying more) until Zhao Jing came into the picture and everything else happened. For much of the series, wkx views his Zhen Yan identity as functionally dead (which he literally spells out in his mini confrontation with Shen Shen) and so there's almost a veil of mourning around these flashbacks for both wkx and the audience.

Then we come to the flashback where his parents are killed (ep 24). Wkx is dreaming as he remembers so obviously in white underrobes (is there an actual term for this? I feel weird calling them pyjamas) so the association is there even though Zhen Yan himself isn't wearing full white, just white robes beneath his outer robes. The flashback ends with Tragicomic Ghost giving him Meng Po soup and him forgetting Zhao Jing's part in this whole business (this basically draws the line between Zhen Yan and Wen Kexing). The deaths in these scenes are both literal (his parents) and that of himself in him giving up his memories. (Wkx then awakens and has his conversation with zzs about the latter's past, but I'm not sure that really fits the pattern here.)

Ep 23, we see wkx being "taught" by the valley king of the time that the only way to survive in ghost valley is to kill. He's wearing a white shirt here and is referred to as "ah xing" confirming he's now killed the Zhen Yan part of his identity as part of his own survival. The valley king makes sure to punctuate his "lesson" with violence.

Which leads onto the next chronological instance (ep 21), where wkx uses violence himself to topple the former valley king. This scene was actually the one which first made me think there was an association because his choice to wear white in this scene is just... questionable, but this scene is coming on the heels of the Four Seasons childhood scenes and so there's that connection there. Anyway, he is wearing white, but it's marred a bit by, well, the blood. This is where he becomes the ghost valley king. The death here works similarly to with his parents where there's both the literal death of the king as well as wkx's identity prior to taking on the ghost valley kind title (and we do get hints with the entire "Auntie Luo" thing with Tragicomic Ghost that things did change as he took on this persona.)

Now, unless I'm forgetting something, wkx doesn't really wear white again after this point (excluding obviously his night clothes) until his confrontation with Zhao Jing. We get to see his development away from all the murk of the ghost valley back towards him being a "human". This scene is almost immediately after he's faked his death which within the plot is something you kind of have to peer at quizzically in hopes it'll make more sense next you look, but in context of his character evolution lets you have a little death/rebirth narrative. He confronts Zhao Jing not as Wen Kexing the Ghost Valley King but as Zhen Yan of Healer Valley. And he wears white as a contrast to everything else he's worn as ghost valley king to reclaim his Zhen Yan identity from the dead. It's definitely a big leap for his character even though he hasn't cut his ties with ghost valley entirely.

Finally - and I wasn't going to include this bit at first because it's not his clothes - you get to his very last appearance/s with his white hair. I know the drama ending is fairly controversial and the white hair stuff is a pretty common trope regardless, but I'd like to think that in this case it's a continuation of where wkx was at during his confrontation with Zhao Jing and hey, he gains the white hair after yet another "death/rebirth". White hair isn't something like clothes that can just be easily swapped; it's something that's part of him now. Essentially, he has made peace with himself and his history. Sure, he can hardly be called "innocent" again at this stage, but he's reconciled the Zhen Yan parts of himself with the Wen Kexing and the Ghost Valley King parts of himself.

[thebiasrekkers]

Shadow’s Birthright | MYG

Chapter 06: Convergence

Plot: Riding in on thunder and lightning, two princes are born. But a crown cannot be shared. It can only be worn by one and one alone. The hands of man have separated the brothers, allowing one to live in wealth and comfort inside the palace while the other grows up among commoners. But Fate cannot be destroyed by the hands of man. A shared destiny reunites the brothers; one to become a king who descends into madness and the other will rise as a dragon whose journey has only just begun in order to claim a crown he does not desire to have.

Rating: NC-17 // NSFW

Genre: series | historical!au | fantasy!au | angst | romance | drama | tragedy

Pairing: Min Yoongi (Lee Yoon) x Female OC (Kalina Shuri)

Warnings: Historical setting, caste system, magic/sorcery, graphic violence, disturbing graphic images, religious tones, angst, slow burn, smut

Previous Chapters: Prologue 01 02 03 04 05

Links: FAQ || BTS Masterlist || Admin E’s AO3 || [ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ]

Word Count: 4,065

Tag List: @luxekook, @pinkpjmin, @btsaudge, @flowerwrites06, @stillcopingxx, @taevkimchi, @aroseforyoongi, @vivpurple7, @happilystrongthroughthedark, @sw33tnight, @nikkitane, @mini-coop25, @shrimpmsg, @ggukkieland​

AN: Sorry this took me so long. Life decided it wanted to kick me in the face repeatedly. But I did warn everyone this was going to take a little time with the updates. Please be patient with me. I promise you that it will be worth the wait. If you would like to be added to the tag list, feel free to drop me a line!

P.S. Please bear in mind that while the historical accuracy will be mostly correct, I am setting this in a time period in Joseon history where there was no such thing as a king who had a twin brother. Obviously that’s where the fiction/creative freedom is going to come in. Everything else will be period accurate, trust and believe.

© thebiasrekkers (Admin E). All rights reserved. Reposting/modifying our work is prohibited. Translations are not allowed. Plagiarism/stealing is not tolerated by any means. Legal action will be taken in instances of theft.

“Things do not happen. Things are made to happen.” - John F. Kennedy

Yoon greeted his parents with the Crown Princess at his side. They both bowed deeply as they heard the King and Queen laugh in delight. The Royal Consorts also received bows from the Crown Prince and Princess. Finally, they turned and were given bows from the princesses and princes of the Royal Court. The officials and guards, as well as the rest of the palace staff, were present for the opening ceremony to celebrate Crown Prince Yoon’s first international liaison. 

When they were finally dismissed, Yoon took his seat next to the Crown Princess, waiting for food and wine to be served. Various voices of praise and congratulations were given to Yoon, to which he simply nodded his head politely and smiled while returning his own charming forms of gratitude. He allowed the Crown Princess to serve him a cup of wine and he, in turn, also served her. Merriment and good cheer surrounded the palace.

It made Yoon sick to his stomach.

The conversation he had with his Father-In-Law still didn’t sit well with him. At his own behest, he politely reminded Minister Jang that he should keep his small-minded ambitions to himself. He didn’t need to drag the Crown Princess into his mess. Regardless of his own personal feelings, Yoon held a deep amount of respect for his Princess. Jang Chae-Ok had no ambitions or selfish desires for wanting to be Crown Princess. She was simply a childhood friend to Yoon who always remained faithfully at his side. 

The Crown Princess was not blind to his relationship with Kalina. But she also did not question it. It was from this show of her character alone that Yoon promised he would not take a Royal Consort when he became King. He owed her that much for her understanding.

“I wish that I could accompany you, Your Highness.” The Crown Princess’s voice was sad, matching her expression. 

He reached out to grasp her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “It will be a long journey. It is no place for a Crown Princess.” Yoon smiled. “I will be back before you realize I’m gone.”

She sighed. “I will miss you greatly.” She placed her hand over his. “Do be careful.”

“I will, Crown Princess.”

A loud gong resounded, drawing everyone’s attention. All conversation hushed as the head of the Artisan school approached. He bowed deeply while the others waited with anticipation for his announcement. 

“Members of the Royal Court! We are here to celebrate the Crown Prince’s upcoming journey. We wish him great fortune but before he traverses out in the world, we want to be able to ease his worries and give him memories to hold on to as he travels to Ming. Things that he will be able to keep close to his heart and treasure if he should ever become homesick.” 

Yoon smiled, despite his own internal dark thoughts. He loved his country. He loved his people. The skills they mastered in order to have these small moments to showcase their talents were clearly battles within their own houses. Some performers and artists had better skills than others, hence why they were allowed to appear at the forefront. Others were still in training to be able to climb up in the ranks along the way. 

He secretly admired the drive that pushed these individuals along. Everyone had dreams, goals, and ambitions. People’s reasons for doing anything were threads that bonded everyone together to achieve common goals. No matter how small or big, they were to be appreciated. Even if one could not voice these appreciations aloud. 

The Chief Artisan gave a wide gesture, spinning on his heels as the performers made their way into the grand courtyard. “We hope that our performers, both within the palace walls, and those who have managed to make their ways from the streets, will be able to soothe your soul.”

Everyone applauded as Senior Artisan stepped away, allowing for the in house performers to showcase everything they’ve practiced for days. Curiously, Yoon hummed to himself at the mention of street performers entering the palace. If they were skilled enough to gain the court’s attention, there was a good chance they would be given slots to enter the performance schools within the palace halls. It would be a golden opportunity to change their livelihoods for the better.

He was keen to see just what they were made of.

“I can’t believe you’re making me do this.”

Jimin clicked his tongue against the back of his teeth, silencing Taehyung’s whining. “Hyung-nim is filling in for Namjoon Hyung-nim.” His eyes narrowed. “Surely you don’t expect him to wear the dress, do you?”

Taehyung pouted. “No, but still!”

“Besides,” Hoseok cut in, patting Taehyung’s shoulders roughly, “we all memorized multiple parts in case something happens. We only had time for Hyung-nim to learn one. Stop being difficult.”

Yoongi smirked, shaking his head while readjusting the waistband to his costume. The large rosary that hung from his neck was heavy and the boots were a little bit cumbersome, but bearable. He would be able to switch his shoes out when it came time for the tightrope routine. Jungkook and Seokjin fawned over him, making sure he looked as proper as he could in performance gear. 

Namjoon appeared, holding out a red and black demon mask to him. “I gave it some new paint earlier so it should be dry now.”

Taking the mask from him, Yoongi cradled it in his hands. “Thank you, Namjoon-ah.” He scratched at the cloth headband. “What will you be doing during the performance?”

“I’ll be narrating and helping the musicians out. Percussion, mostly.” 

“I see.” Yoongi eyed the mask, taking note of the large white fangs protruding from the mouth carved into the wood. 

Because of the depth of the role, he wouldn’t be able to take his mask off during the entire performance. Beneficial for him, but he hated that Namjoon wouldn’t be getting any credit. Yoongi knew how hard they all must have been preparing for this particular performance. A small measure of guilt wormed its way into his heart, but Namjoon’s laugh brought him out of his thoughts. 

“Now I feel even more terrible, Hyung-nim.” Yoongi saw the concerned look on Namjoon’s face, even though he was smiling. “Seriously, you’re doing me a favor. I feel bad enough. If you keep looking like that, I’ll think I’m completely worthless.”

“I’m sorry, Namjoon-ah.” Clearing his throat, he nodded. “You’re right. I shouldn’t be feeling like this.”

“Thank the heavens you’re wearing a mask.” Taehyung pushed his headband up a little more. “Otherwise the audience is going to think you’re guilty of some crime.”

“It’s just nerves.” Jimin flashed Yoongi a reassuring smile. “Right, Hyung-nim?”

All he could do was give a small smile. “Yeah, you’re right.”

“Hayan Geutop Troupe?” An unfamiliar voice pulled all of their attention. They saw someone dressed in official robes motioning toward them. “You’re up next.”

No one could hide their excitement. This was the first time any of them would be entering the palace. Each of them were given temporary passes to gain access. Once inside, they all made sure they were looking their best. The sound of joyful laughter and music rumbled through the courtyard, causing Yoongi’s heartbeat to elevate with excitement.

“Hyung-nim!” Jungkook gently nudged Yoongi’s back. “Your mask! Don’t forget to put it on!”

“Oh. Right.” Yoongi slid the large Demon mask over his head, making sure the cloth headwrap covered every part of his neck from view except the front. 

The sound of loud drums rang out through the courtyard. It was a little bit difficult to breathe with the mask on, but not impossible. If anything, Yoongi was more concerned with the mask falling off by accident. But Hoseok assured him that the bands were secured and redesigned to fit his head perfectly. It wouldn’t come off unless he pulled it off himself.

Admittedly, his nerves were a little frayed. Being around so many people at once, as well as so much noise, was teetering him toward sensory overload. But he continued to remind himself that he had a job to do. He just needed to get through the performance and then he could continue exploring the Crown City to his heart’s content. They were set to ride back out to the mountains at first light.

He hoped the shops would still be open before the lanterns were lit.

The large drum was hit, signaling for everyone to settle down. Yoongi took another breath, waiting for their group to be announced in front of the Royal Court. His vision was limited through the small holes in his mask - the rest of the world shadowed on either side of him. He could hear his own breath in his ears as he tried to peer out in front of him. But he wasn’t sure what he was even looking for. There was a strange pull at his heart; a feeling he couldn’t quite explain. 

Like someone was calling to him.

No. Like multiple people were calling to him.

“Members of the Royal Court! I present to you a troupe of young performers who hail from the outskirts of the Crown City!” The Chief Artisan looked in their direction as some of the students in the palace artisan school helped to set up their stage. “The White Tower Troupe!”

There was a round of polite applause from all the members of the royal court. The other troupe members were helping to set up the first scene for their skit. Yoongi waited patiently, even though he offered to help. Taehyung and Hoseok insisted that he stand back and focus on the performance. It wouldn’t take them long to get the set pieces ready. Once everything was put together, Namjoon walked gently forward and bowed deeply to the Royal family seated at the large banquet table.

“Please forgive our lack of eloquence, Your Majesties, as we attempt to regale you with a story. It is one I am sure you are all familiar with, but allow us to perform it for you just the same.” He flicked out the large fan in his hand, a picture of a blue sky and a green field painted on it. “We humbly present to you...the Tale of Green Pearl and the Demon!”

Yoon felt Chae-Ok grab his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. He cast a sidelong glance in her direction, noting the soft pink flush that tinted her cheeks. He knew it wasn’t from the wine but more from her excitement. He smiled as she met his gaze.

“Oh, I love this story!” She looked back out toward the courtyard. “I’m interested to see how they will tell it.”

“As am I.”

The bass drum resounded through the large space just as the troupe finished setting up for the first scene. The narrator who spoke walked off to the sidelines and took a seat on a plush cushion that was provided for him. Silence draped over everyone present as the actors moved to their positions. 

“Many years ago, there was a humble man who lived a humble life. He had a humble trade and a humble wife. The wife bore him two children. A son named White Fang and a daughter named Green Pearl.”

Yoon watched as the narrator spoke about each character. One by one, they all appeared - their faces concealed with wooden masks painted in eloquent designs. Lingering off to the side was an actor clothed in black, red and gold garbs - a demon mask covering his face. Yoon felt his heart beating a little faster as he gazed at the person, unsure of why this strange sensation was lurching in his chest. 

The narrator slapped his stick against the small drum cradled in his lap. “As the seasons changed and the children grew older, the father became ill. The wife sent for what physicians they could afford and the old apothecary said that there was nothing he could do. The wife was distraught, unsure of what would become of her or her children should her husband leave this world for his journey to the afterlife.”

“Seobang-nim! You cannot leave us like this!” The wife sobbed beside the husband, cradling his hand between her palms. “What are we to do without you? How are we supposed to live?!”

“Don’t worry, Mother,” said White Fang as he placed his hand over his mother’s, “I will find a way to cure Father. I will travel across foreign lands until I can find the medicine that will save Father’s life!”

Again, the narrator struck the drum. “White Fang left to search for a cure for his ailing father, leaving his mother and sister behind.”

Yoon watched the person portraying Green Pearl moving toward the backdrop meant to pose as a wide open field. A lone tree stood off in the distance where she clasped her hands together and prayed. 

“Gods of Heaven, I beseech you! Please help my father. Please find a way to help him get better!” cried Green Pearl as she lowered her head, all but sobbing into her hands.

Heavy drums beat softly, signaling an ominous transition. Yoon watched as the actor portraying the demon slowly moved forward, until he was mere feet from the Royal Banquet table. The Demon whipped his head around to face the Royal family, causing everyone to lean back and gasp. 

All except Yoon.

Maybe it was the optical illusion of the mask, but he swore that the demon was looking directly at him. His heartbeat escalated, a soft thunder against his chest, and he waited for the demon to speak. There was a line here. Yoon remembered it. A line where the demon spoke to the audience of his wicked scheme.

But the demon said nothing. All he did was stare. Had the actor forgotten his lines?

“A demon heard Green Pearl’s cries, intrigued by her earnest wailings.”

The narrator cut through the silence. This seemed to wake the demon up, causing him to swiftly shuffle back a few steps as he threw his arm out in a dramatic flourish. 

“The sweet sound of sorrow nourishes my heart,” the Demon exclaimed, curling his shoulders forward. He pressed a hand against his face, fingers gliding over the white fangs on the mask. “It is the sound of easy prey. How I have longed to devour such a miserable soul!”

He heard the Crown Princess gasp as the Demon ran forward, leaping into the air and landing on the tightrope with amazing ease. Yoon quirked a brow, internally admiring the actor’s swiftness and balancing abilities. The Demon leaned forward, slinging his legs out until he was hanging upside down from the rope. 

Green Pearl took a sharp intake of breath, clutching at the front of her dress. “W-Who goes there?”

“A humble and curious Demon. But nevermind me, Sweet Child.” The Demon spoke in a cooing and sweet voice. “What seems to be ailing you? What causes you to mourn so?”

“My father is ill and there is no way to save him. My brother has left to travel in hopes of finding medicine to cure him.” Green Pearl turned away from the Demon, looking off in the distance. “I mourn for my family and what is to become of them should my father pass.”

The Demon laughed, swinging his body so that he was now sitting upright on the tightrope. He rested a hand on his knee and leaned forward, drawing Green Pearl’s attention once more. “This is a simple problem with a simple solution.”

“It is anything but simple!”

“Oh, but it is!” The Demon hopped onto the rope, bouncing up and down in a playful manner. “Because I know how to save your ailing father!”

Green Pearl stepped toward the tree, her hand reaching up toward the Demon but she was far out of his reach. “What do you know? Please, tell me how to save my father!”

The Demon bounced on the rope a few more times before dismounting, landing just a few feet away from her. He placed his hands behind his back and paced, not really bothering to stray too far from her but not coming too close. “There is a flower that grows in the western mountains. It is said that creating a potion from this flower can cure any illness.” He spun on his heels just as Green Pearl tried to approach him, causing her to halt in her steps. “But it is an arduous journey. Many have died trying to claim this flower.”

“Can you guide me to this mountain?” 

The Demon circled her, his steps slow and measured. “What will you give me if I decide to lend you my aid?”

“Whatever you wish to claim from me, Sir!” Green Pearl fell to her knees. “No boon is too great when it comes to saving the life of my father!”

The Demon knelt down before Green Pearl, lifting her face to meet his. “You will become my bride. That is the price you must pay if you wish to obtain my help.”

“If marrying a demon is the trade we are making, then I would marry you a thousand times.” 

The Demon pulled Green Pearl up onto her feet, a hearty laugh bursting from his chest. “Then come! Let us be off! The day grows shorter and the journey will be that much harder for you when the night comes.”

A gong and more heavy drums rang out as the Demon and Green Pearl exited the stage. Troupe members hurried to change the set backdrop to suit the next scene transition. 

“So Green Pearl and the Demon hurried toward the Western Mountains. The journey was, indeed, arduous. Many perils crossed their paths, but the Demon protected Green Pearl every step of the way. The harshest trek, however, was the path leading up toward the mountains. Wild animals impeded their path. Even the cold mountain winds attempted to blow the two off the krags so they would plummet to their deaths.”

With each scene change, a linen drape with a painted landscape was swapped. The serene music fit the pacing of each scene and the narrator’s strong voice pushed the actors to continue through the skit. Yoon knew this tale very well. Yet watching it unfold in this manner made the story seem brand new. He was particularly drawn to the Demon, unable to shake the tremors in his heart as the masked performer’s moves seemed fluid and natural.

“Finally, Green Pearl and the Demon reached the top of the mountain peaks. There was the mythical flower the Demon mentioned. It was a rich purple in pigment, the stem a soft green and nestled among a cluster of clovers. In the snow and cold temperature, there was no way that any vegetation should have flourished, let alone this single flower.”

Green Pearl reached for the flower, preparing to dig it up from the earth. Suddenly, she was stopped by the Demon’s harsh pull at her wrist. “W-What are you doing?!”

“Do not forget your promise to me, dear Child.” He pulled her flush against him. “You are to be my bride the moment your father is well. And not a minute later.”

“I haven’t forgotten our deal, Demon!” Green Pearl pushed away from him. “We must hurry back quickly!”

A soft bell tinkling sound issued from a row of wind chimes. The Demon laughed, grasping onto Green Pearl and jumping up toward the tightrope. Everyone watching sucked in their breaths as a stream of dark blue fabric followed after them. The Demon dragged Green Pearl behind him as the actors portrayed him using his powers to help them travel quickly. The two actors almost appeared to float across the thick line of rope.

“The Demon used his powers to transport Green Pearl and himself down the mountain. When they reached the foot of the mountain, they instantly moved through the fields. Within minutes, they were back in Green Pearl’s humble village. He safely brought her home and Green Pearl wasted no time preparing the flower into a medicinal tonic for her father.”

Green Pearl appeared next to her mother, holding out a wooden bowl. “This tonic will help Father. Please, we must hurry!”

The Wife started to feed the potion to the ailing Husband. In minutes, he started to rise up from his bed. He held his wife’s hands and she threw herself into his arms. 

“Husband! You are well!” she cried as her husband held her close. 

He laughed, stroking her back. “Yes, I am well, Pu-in. But tell me, what has helped me come back from the gates of the Underworld?”

“I traveled far to retrieve a flower that is said to cure any illness.” Green Pearl hugged her father’s neck.

“A flower?” He tilted his head to the side. “How did you come to learn of this flower?��

Green Pearl lowered her head. “A Demon told me. He guided me to the Western Mountains and I plucked the flower from the highest peak.”

Both the husband and wife looked at each other, clutching at their chests. The father reached out for his daughter’s hands. “You foolish girl! How could you make an agreement with a demon?!”

“Don’t you know that a deal with a demon only breeds disaster?!” The mother shook Green Pearl’s shoulders. “You have sold your soul to the Underworld!”

Green Pearl pulled herself away from her family. “I’m sorry!” She ran out of the house where the Demon was waiting for her. “We must hurry!”

The Demon grabbed her hand in his. “Let us leave this place!”

“Stop right there, you foul trickster!” The Father appeared, brandishing a wheat sickle. “Release my daughter, this instant!”

The Demon laughed. “The deal has been made, Human! You cannot break the contract!” 

The sound of a gong exploded over the courtyard, causing the Demon to gasp. When he looked down, there was a sword plunged through his stomach. As he turned, the assailant stepped forward to push the blade through his gut even further. The Demon reached out with a bloodied hand toward the one who attacked him. 

“B-Brother!”

White Fang ripped the sword from the Demon’s body, causing the Demon to fall to his knees. His head hung low and Green Pearl was instantly at the Demon’s side. He finally collapsed to the ground and Green Pearl clung to his shivering form. 

“What have you done?!” she screamed as the Demon continued to tremble in her arms. “Why did you strike him?!”

“It was a Demon, Green Pearl!” White Fang dropped the sword from his hand and the satchel from his back. “They only breed misfortune!”

“Y-You fool,” sputtered the Demon, “I would have given her a good life.” A trembling arm lifted as he pointed at White Fang. “Because of your actions, you have now condemned your sister to death.”

“What?!” White Fang dropped to his knees. The husband and wife hurried forward. “What lies do you speak, Demon?”

The Demon turned to look up at Green Pearl. “I will not be able to give you a life you deserve.” He touched the side of her face. “But I will be able to stay with you in the Afterlife. Always.”

“I am sorry for the cruel nature of man! Forgive me!” Green Pearl sobbed, burying her face in the Demon’s shoulder. “I will see you on the other side.”

And then the Demon’s hand fell limply to the ground. Seconds later, Green Pearl collapsed next to him.

Silence filled the courtyard. No one spoke. Hardly anyone took a moment to breathe, Yoon included. 

It was broken the minute that the King began to clap. The Queen soon followed until everyone at the Royal Banquet table rose from their seats and applauded. Yoon was still stunned, but he, too, clapped. The actors remained where they were - unmoving. However, the narrator stepped forward and bowed deeply to them. The tragic scene remained, but the story’s message still lingered in the air. 

Even a Demon was deserving of love and a person could see beyond the surface to one’s true heart.

But when promises were broken, a terrible fate would await. 

[samthemarvelfan]

I Won’t Say: Chapter Seven

-Torn-

Summary: Ellaria Stark is the daughter of a king. When she is unwittingly betrothed to the King of a neighboring city, she isn’t sure how to feel. More importantly, she isn’t sure how the King will feel if he finds out the truth about her.

Pairing: James Barnes x OFC, Ellaria Stark. (Stark!Reader.)

Warnings: Royal!AU, ANGST, betrayal, kidnapping, verbal altercations.

A/N: This one is a bit longer, bur its FULL OF DRAMA. Please don’t hate me at the end. I had to do it! >:)

James has been noticeably absent from the castle the past few days. He was always off meeting with the foot soldiers and Sir Sitwell, in hopes of keeping the people of Buchanan as safe as possible.

There hasn’t been another incident, thank goodness, and with your engagement ball this evening, you’re hoping to maintain the status quo.

“Everything is coming along beautifully, Ellaria. Fret not.” Natasha smiled, stirring the bath for you. She added orange-colored petals to the beautiful milk-blue water, and the aroma immediately relaxed you.

You leaned back against the basin and closed your eyes. “I don’t think I’ll stop worrying until I’m married...and even then I’ll be a nervous wreck that somehow I’ll mess up.”

“You truly care, don’t you? Most women would be more concerned with their appearance for the ball, but not you. You, my future Queen, are already worrying about others.”

You smile, opening your eyes and massaging the oils across your chest. “I’m following in beloved footsteps. Her Majesty was so loved and revered by her people. I’ve been reading quite a bit of the history.”

Natasha tutted, “You’re supposed to be relaxing.”

“Nat, I don’t think I know how to relax. My Mother always says I’m like my Father in that way; too worried about the when and then to enjoy the now.” The memory alone made you smile.

Nat noticed, “You must be so excited to see them tonight.”

She held up your bathing robe and helped you step out. “I am. I only wish Morgan was coming, but Mother assures me she will be here for the wedding.”

My wedding. In just seven days time. You thought to yourself.

Once out of the bath, you dressed into a simple silk robe—not wanting to dress until this evening. Besides, Natasha was most likely not going to allow you to do anything but relax.

She cleared her throat, “Ellaria?”

“Hm?” You ask, brushing your hair.

Nat finishes making your bed as she speaks. “Have there been anymore incidents?”

You shake your head. “No. Thankfully, but the King has also been visiting with me more, so maybe the person has lost their confidence?”

“Oh he has, has he?” She asked suggestively.

“Natasha!” You scold playfully, “I simply mean he has been checking on me more frequently. That’s all.”

God, how I wish there was more to tell.

A reserved knock on your door draws Nat’s attention. “Stay,” she says, “I’ll get it.”

You watch as she approached the door cautiously. She puts her ear to it before calling out warily. “Who is it?” 

You heard the clearing of a throat, “Oh, it’s Peter. I come with a message for the Princess.”

Nat laughed, as did you. Peter was so eager to please and happy to help. “Come in!”

The door opened slowly, “Hello, Peter.” She greeted.

Peter’s face flushed, “H-Hello...Miss Romanoff.”

You stood, assuring your robe was tied tightly. Peter averted his gaze for a moment.

“What message have you, Peter?” You smile.

“Oh!” It’s then you notice he’s holding a small navy-colored, velvet satchel, along with a note. “I was told to give these to the Princess, it’s from King James.” He smiled.

You heart fluttered, “Really?” You ask happily.

He nodded, “Yes, I was told to make sure I give it straight to you.”

You look to Natasha, who’s smiling proudly at you. “Peter, where is the King now?”

He looks awkwardly as he shift his weight from foot to foot, “The King isn’t back from the borders yet, but Sir Steven assures he will see you tonight.”

A small amount of sadness washes over you, but you understand. Duty calls.

“Thank you, Peter.”

“My pleasure, your highness! I’m happy to help in any way I can.”

Natasha smirked at his eagerness. “Peter, why don’t we give her majesty some time to be with herself, is that alright, Ellaria?”

You nod, “I will see you for the dressing?”

“Of course.” She bowed.

When Peter and Nat had left your chambers, you sat on the edge of your bed, letter in hand.

This is the first note James had ever written you, so naturally, you were nervous to read it. With shaking hands, you opened the parchment carefully, and read his words.

Princess,

I hope you are well. I cannot wait to have you in my arms this evening.

You will no doubt be bathed in beauty and elegance. You are so everyday, tonight I’m sure will be no different.

I am bestowing upon you a special gift, I do hope you wear it proudly. I cannot wait to see you in it tonight.

I look forward to celebrating our future, and to watching the future of Buchanan unfold.

-James

Your heart soared at his words. The two of you had been getting closer, and thankfully so. Small glances, the shared moments, light touches that set your skin ablaze.

You wanted him in every way, and it seemed he wanted you as well.

You carefully opened the velvet satchel, and pulled out a beautiful diamond and sapphire broach. It was clearly an antique and very valuable, and James entrusted it to you.

“My goodness...” you said to the empty room. It will match your gown perfectly, and you couldn’t wait to show the King just how much you appreciate his gift.

“I feel like I’m going to be sick, Nat...” you said as she gave you a once over.

“Breathe, Ellaria. Just imagine it is only the two of you.”

You let out a hefty breath. “But it’s not just the two of us. I want to make a good impression and my parents will be there...I just hope I make them proud.”

Natasha stepped back, admiring her handy work. “You look breathtaking, your majesty.” Her voice was earnest; she believed in you.

“I couldn’t have done any of this without you. Thank you, Natasha.” Instinctively, you hugged her. Though taken aback, she hugged you in return.

“I will clean up while you head for the ballroom. Go on, don’t keep your betrothed waiting!” She jested, ushering you out.

Once in the hallway, you unwrapped the broach from the handkerchief you’d kept it safely stored away in, and pinned it on above you left breast.

Sir Samuel rounded the corner, “Ready, your majesty?”

A moment passed before you nodded your head. “Ready.”

Natasha gatherer the old sheets due for a washing in a pile on the floor.

A final sweep of you room confirmed your safety, and she was on her way out when a piece of parchment fell from the sheets she’s scooped up.

It had you name on it, but it was in a writing she didn’t recognize.

Nimble fingers opening it carefully, she nearly jumped out of her skin when someone knocked at the door.

“Natasha? What are you still doing here?” Steve said with a smile.

A sigh of relief passed when perfect lips. “Unlike some of us, I actually have to work around her.”

She was smirking as she nudged his hip. “What’s that?” Steve asked.

“I’m not sure,” she said. “I don’t recognize the writing, do you?”

Nat handed it over to Steve, who read your name aloud. “No, no not at all.”

With as much care as Natasha would have, Steve opened the parchment and began reading the page. His face immediately registered alarm.

“Natasha, where did Ellaria get this?” Steve’s tone was rushed.

“Peter, he brought it earlier with a parcel and said it was from James. Steven, what is it?” She asked, taking the page from him.

“That is not the King’s writing. No where near it. Where is Ellaria now? What was in the parcel?”

Nat began to panic, “Samuel collected her already, and I’ve no idea. She opened it in private.”

A moment of thought, and Steve is running out the door. “Find Peter at once.”

The ballroom was full of people. Families and children and some select members of court. You watch in amazement at the joy on their faces; it came together perfectly.

Golden sconces adorned the walls, and the navy curtains and linens complimented the golden accessories. Candelabra’s on each feasting table and the most perfect musical accompaniment.

“That cannot be my daughter. She so regal, so grown!” You heard your father’s voice behind you and tears began to well almost instantly.

“Father! Mother!” You shout, running into his arms. “Oh, I’ve missed you so!”

He held you as if you’d float away. “My treasure, look at you...”

“Tony, don’t ruin her gown...” Mother scolded. You turned and hugged her as well. “You look perfect, my love. Like a true queen in the making.”

An emotional sigh escaped you, “I hope I live up to you, Mother. Thank you for all you’ve taught me, and all you’ve given me in my life. I will not waste it, I swear.”

You heard the bang of a staff, and suddenly, butterflies filled your stomach.

“Ready?” Father asked you.

A nod was all you could muster as a reply.

The court crier called the attention of those in attendance. “Citizens of Buchanan, please welcome their royal majesties, King Anthony Stark and Queen Virginia from the Iron Kingdom.”

Father looked at you, “We shall see you out there; head high, Ellaria. Head high.”

Watching as they walk through the velvet curtains into the ballroom, you adjust your stance, and assure you’re looking as perfect as possible.

“It is my joy to present her royal highness, Ellaria Stark, heir to the Iron Kingdom and future Queen of Buchanan.” The crier called.

“Here we go...” you whispered.

As you walked into the ballroom, you heard gasps and chattering amongst the crowds.

“She’s enchanting...”

“Our Queen!”

“Such grace and beauty!”

The heat rose to your cheeks almost instantly, hearing their words and feeling all the eyes in the room on you. Your father and mother smiled at you from there seats at the head table as you moved to the center of the room.

One final bang of the staff, “Citizens of Buchanan, it is my honor to present his royal highness, James Barnes, protector and King of Buchanan.”

The crowd went silent almost instantly, and you locked your eyes on the doorway.

When James walked in, he looked more handsome then you’d ever seen him. Dressed in a deep navy tunic, adorned with golden buttons and buckles. Black, leather pants and boots, and his crown placed perfectly atop his chestnut locks.

When he stopped just short of you, the crown began to applaud their king. James smiled at you lovingly, as he took in your dress.

His eyes seemed to lock into your chest, and you’re sure it’s because of the beautiful gift he gave you. Suddenly though, his demeanor shifts. His eyes become enraged as he storms toward you, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t frighten you.

“James—“

“How dare you!” He shouts, cause the crowd to still.

You shake your head, “What? What’s the matter?” You were entirely lost, you’d thought everything was perfect.

His jaw was clenched. “Do you mock my grief?”

It was strange seeing him this way; so obviously full of rage, but with tears behind his eyes.

“James, I do not understand...” You say with a quivering lip.

He grips your bodice harshly, and tears at your chest with his metal arm, ripping the broach from its place. Your dress was torn to shreds at the top, exposing nearly all of your chest.

“You think yourself worthy of this? The broach my mother wore when her throat was slit?” He shouts.

The crowd of people gasped at the sight before them. You hands rush to shield yourself from either humiliation.

“What is the meaning of the, Barnes?!” Your Father asks, rushing to your side.

The King ignored him. “Get out of my sight. You’re a liar and a thief! Get out of my home, and go back where you came from!”

You started running before he finished, through the the corridors back to your room. What happened? James had given you that broach, did he not? He wrote a letter and all.

Unless the letter was not from James. You thought.

It doesn’t matter anymore. There is surely no repairing what was done tonight. The court saw James disrespect and denounce you, as did his citizens. You had no choice, you must leave Buchanan.

Tonight.

“Steven! Enough! He’s just a boy!” Natasha shouted as Steve tossed Peter across the room.

...again.

“Was it you?! Did you plot against the Princess?!” Steve shouted, grabbing Peter and forcing him to look up.

Peter was visibly shaking, word had quickly traveled of what transpired at the ball only a few minutes ago, and Steve wasn’t happy.

No one was happy.

“No! No Sir, I swear it!” Peter shouted, almost in tears.

“Peter who gave you the parcel for her majesty?” Natasha asked softly.

Peter hesitates, afraid no matter what his answer, he’d be tossed around again. Natasha read the boys face, and saw the fear in his eyes.

She placed her hands on Steve’s, and he softened at her touch. Moving him aside, she crouched down in front of Peter.

“Who was it, Peter?”

The boy let out a sigh, one of relief. “It was Miss Carter. She told me it was at the King’s behest. She said I was to bring the parcel and letter to the Princess and that the king said it was of the utmost importance.”

Steve and Natasha shared a glance. “Looks like Miss Priss is up to her old shite...” she seethed.

Steve extended a hand to Peter, hoisting him up. There was no exchange of words, the gesture was enough.

“I’m going to find Sharon. You go find Bucky.” Nat said, heading for the door.

“Natasha wait, one of us needs to get the Princess and tell her. She must feel so betrayed.” Steve said grimly.

She nodded, “Alright, inform the King of the traitorous acts of the foul shrew. I will make sure Ellaria doesn’t do anything drastic.”

“Peter?” Steve called.

“Sir?”

“Find Samuel. Have him rally the the King’s Guard.”

Peter nodded, “Yes, Sir.”

You knees were pulled to your chest.

Where were your parents? What if...

No. No, he wouldn’t hurt them. Would he?

Your trunk was packed and your belongings put away, any sign you had been in the room had been erased.

Was this the King’s plan? To embarrass and belittle you because he didn’t want to marry you after all? The thought alone broke your heart.

The way his eyes so easily filled with hatred, how he put his hands on you so harshly and tore away your dignity. A man like that was surely incapable of love.

You felt a fool.

Pounding on your door startled you.

Jumping up, you hoped it to finally be your parents. You swung it open quickly, only to find a face you hadn’t expected.

“Sir Sitwell? What are you doing here?”

He looked down the hall and behind you, “I’m here to escort you to your parents carriage, your majesty.”

“Oh,” you hesitate for a moment. “Where is Sir Samuel? And Steven?”

He cleared his throat, “They’ve been summoned by the King, I’m afraid.”

You nod, understanding. “I’ll grab my trunk—“

“No, no. There’s no time. I shall have someone run it down, come quickly.”

He ushered you forward, assuring the door to your room closes behind you.

The walk is silent and awkward and rushed. “Are my parents alright?” You ask.

“What? Yes, yes of course they are. Come quickly.” Sitwell responds.

You round the corner to the front of the castle and see three men, dressed in colors that aren’t Buchanan’s. “Who are they?” You ask, slowing your pace.

The men approach you quickly, “Sorry about this, Princess.” Sitwell says with a smirk.

The next thing you know, a napkin is covering your mouth. You screech to no avail, inhaling something that makes you feel faint. Blackness is invading your vision and your legs give out.

Soon there is nothing but darkness and the cold cobblestone floor against your back.

Taglist: @iheartsebastianstan @jjlizz @stuckysbabe @sk493494 @lefoutoir @nickangel13 @marvelismysafezone @lilulo-12 @warmvanillafeels @star-spangled-beard-burn @ravenesque @pinknerdpanda @wintersoldierissucharide @snapcapquartet @ellen-reincarnated1967 @unlistedpond @my-drowning-in-time @supernaturalwintersoldier @kimvmarvel @roseboho @winterboobear11 @choicesloversstuff @disaffectedbarnes @igothroughphasesalot (strikethrough means the tag didn’t work! I’m sorry!)

[doomedandstoned]

10,000 Years Take Us Into The "Gargantuan Forest"

~Doomed & Stoned Debuts~

Review by Billy Goate

Album Art by Francesco Bauso

Leaving the world For salvation yonder Quest for eternity To suns beyond

Gazing upon our past Out into forever To a future obscured What glory awaits?

To begin another week of awesome original content at Doomed & Stoned, we're getting you better acquainted with the Swedish juggernaut 10,000 YEARS.

Last summer, the band dropped their eponymous debut to welcome ears and in just a few short weeks 10,000 Years come roaring back with a follow-up. Y'all know I'm a sucker for a good concept album. The eight-track full-length record 'II' (2021) picks up the trail of the Albatross research vessel, which has been galavanting 'cross the nether reaches of the galaxy on a potent rocket fuel made of sludgy stoner rock and doom metal.

If that sounds epic, wait'll you get a load of what's next for our interstellar crew. It helps if you picture the following text as a Star Wars-style screen crawl, slowly working its way up the page against the backdrop of a starry night.

After narrowly escaping the confines of the strange planet and its surrounding dimension, the Albatross and its crew finally return home to Earth. The re-entry is rough and the ship crashlands in a forest. The earth that greets them is vastly different from the one that they left.

When the ship travelled back to earth through the wormhole, it created a rift in the space-time continuum which propelled them far into the future, as well as allowing the Green King and other ancient gods from the other dimension to cross over to our dimension. They have since taken control of not only the earth, but the entire solar system.

After various harrowing experiences and encounters, the truth finally dawns on the surviving members of the crew. They are indeed back on earth, but ten thousand years in the future from when they started their journey. And to make matters worse, they find evidence that the Green King has been known and worshipped by secret cults and societies on earth for millenia, since before humankind even existed.

The surviving members of the crew come to the conclusion that the only way to set things right again is to repair the Albatross and take it back through the rift again in order to close it.

Now that's a saga I'm ready to get invested in. George Lucas, eat your heart out!

The record revs to a start with "Descent," a track that can best be described as terrific panic. It had me thinking of KOOK's "Escape Velocity" from their recent second album, though that's an eight-and-a-half minute slow burn and this is a quick twenty-six second fall from the sky. I wish this little notion had a chance to develop into something longer, but regardless what a thrilling way to open an album!

With rapt attention, I'm waiting to hear what comes next. The ship seems to have crash landed deep inside a "Gargantuan Forest." As an aside, it would be a blast to smoke a bowl o' something (anything, really) with Erik Palm (guitar), Alex Risberg (bass, vox), and Espen Karlsen (drums) just to gab it up a bit about sci-fi lit and horror flicks. I mean, check out the trove of B-movie greats referenced in their preface to the new single (which Doomed & Stoned is debuting today):

In this ABSURD (1981) video, 10,000 Years enter a FOREST OF FEAR (1980) as they access THE BEYOND (1981) and enter a BLOODBATH (1971) with THE BOOGEY MAN (1980), otherwise known as the Espbeast. The Espbeast stalks and haunts the bodies and minds of the characters in this C-grade homage to the horror movies of yesteryear.

The characters FIGHT FOR YOUR LIFE (1976) through insane NIGHTMARES IN A DAMAGED BRAIN (1981). If they survive the AXE (1974) they may still end up in an INFERNO (1980) and risk being EATEN ALIVE (1976). All the same risks face the viewer, so don’t watch with the lights out, don’t watch by yourself and DON’T GO IN THE WOODS ALONE (1981). Because after all, isn’t there an Espbeast in all of us?

10,000 Years have picked the ideal setting for the music video. The forests of Sweden stand tall and dark, the ground packed with snow. Screw you, Blair Witch Project -- this is where I want the next found footage flick filmed!

The song opens with a mysterious theme on solitary electric strings, surrounded by hazy reverberation. Drums and bass accent the motif as it's repeated several times over. Dazed by their graceless fall to earth, the crew wander about, checking one another for injuries, seeing if the faithful Albatross has even hope of another journey. As the shock begins to wear off, their hopeless plight reveals itself.

Screaming from the sky Blasting through the atmosphere

Come to rest On the forest floor Still alive What fresh new hell is this?

Surrounded by swamps A strange bleeding from the earth

Giant trees A dense horror taking root Same old sun Unfamiliar rays shine down

Is there something lurking about in the Gargantuan Forest? I'm sure no one wants to wait until nightfall to find out! The so-called "Espbeast" (which the band may actually have been first to name) is more than likely some strange amalgamation of guitar and creature, ripping through foes like a berserker of sound with scraps of High on Fire's "10,000 Years" echoing perversely through the treetops as it stalks and ultimately slays you. Nobody wants to be around when the Espbeast is on the prowl.

Now see, I'm letting my imagination get carried away! Then again, maybe that's what the band had planned all along -- for listeners to join in the fantastic adventures of these cosmonauts, to see through their eyes and feel through their body as they touch foot to strange soil. What will our adventurers find next?

The answer comes all too soon: "Spinosaurus!" This gruff beast charges angrily through the woods knocking things about, displacing rocks, snapping branches, royally pissed and ready to make somebody pay for the noise that snatched him away from a damned good nap. The repeated note riff, with its odd strumming pattern, does a nifty job of representing the crude movements of the Spinosaurus as it lumbers about the forest. Eric is a virtuosic mess of frantic tremeloes and wiry noodling against Espen's stampeding drums, as Alex narrates the scene with a terrifying shout:

Is this our earth? No time to dwell Dorsal sail cutting air Cretaceous ghost made flesh

Staring into Dead end eyes No place to hide Theropodic annihilation

Teeth into flesh!

What the crew is experiencing on their homeworld thus far seems foreign, almost ancient. Through some curse of Einstenian logic have we zipped through a wormhole only to return to the distant past? "The Mooseriders" are about to challenge our assumptions about what's possible on this Rock.

Thundering hooves crack the sky Dark robed wizards appear in the light Travellers in ether descending Protectors of the realm

These are the oath-bound eternals -- interdimensional templars, if you will -- who have arrived at this precise moment in time to take on the Green King. Complex rhythmic drumming with precisely stricken odd beats, is accompanied by a hyperactive bass and progressive metal riffmaking. Together, the band conjures the trot and hustle of the approaching entourage. A wilding guitar heralds a message from the great protectors:

The hour draws near The endgame is nigh Divine prophecy Even death may die

The mood now turns stately. A brave theme is introduced and developed with dashing prowess. This track would fit perfectly into a playlist with Mastodon, Ape Cave, and Zirakzigil. I found Alex's vocal approach especially appropriate for the frantic depiction of "antlers clashing with steel" in this battle to the finish. "Even death...may...DIE!"

"Angel Eyes" greet us on the B-side, and it's not a cover of the Jerry Cantrell song (though that would have been unexpectedly awesome). No, the hard-charging mood and raspy vocals are pointing to something far more apocalyptic.

Hooves of burning coal Let loose upon the world

Return of the warlord Eternal fire scorches the earth

Heavenly gaze Order through chaos

At times Alex seems exasperated, practically out of breath, as he gives these dire words his all. It's a style the 10,000 Years frontman owns as well as his counterpart, Simon Ohlsson of Vokonis, who has a comparable vocal attack. A bass-fortified guitar establishes a second theme that adds a Wagnarian touch of high drama, and this ushers in the song's curtain fall.

If 10,000 Years is to be compared with High On Fire at all, the rumbling riffstorm "March Of The Ancient Queen" surely merits it (to say nothing of their mutual love of alternative histories).

Her royal blood Once ruled these lands Generations Buried by time Dynasty of dust Rise from the sands Rise from the dead The Green King's servant

March!

March Of The Ancient Queen - Single by 10,000 Years

That last lyric is uttered with the most blood-curdling all-caps conviction that I was immediately drawn into its sentiment, miming "Maaaaarrrrrch!" with my ugliest war face on every time it came up in the song. The NWOBHM-style finish is so deftly executed that it comes across as orchestral. 10,000 Years paint with big, bold strokes here.

"Prehuman Walls" is a welcome shift down, with its chugging "Bury Me In Smoke" tempo. You sludge fiends will find moments of Zen here, with riffs that bend and twist and saw 'neath the summer sun. The crew have chanced upon a temple of sorts, though not one made with human hands. Nothing seems to make sense here at all. It's like Area X from the film Annihilation (2017), where everything is a contortion of reality. Then the "truth settles in." This alien monstrosity, we find, bears the mark of the sinister Green King. We thought we'd escaped him, only to find that he both followed us and was here millenia before.

Unholy worship Feed the Green King Eyes pried open Sanity stripped away

At last, we reach the final track in our journey: "Dark Side Of The Earth". So many revelations have been made in this second chapter, so many loose ends that need to be tied off. Naturally, a third chapter must be written. "We must go back, set it right," deliberates an exasperated Albatross crew. "We must go back, whence we came."

Dimension walls broken down The fabric ripped and torn apart Thread the needle once again A journey of ten thousand years

We must go back, set it right We must go back, through the tears

Insanity the only way The dark side of the earth

Following these words, the song develops instrumentally and the mood gets quite emotional. I found myself drawing parallels between this "bastard version of earth" and our own, wondering if we ever can go back and make it right. For us, perhaps it should be about moving forward, for there is no golden age or better time to which we can return. We make this world a heaven or hell tomorrow by the choices made today.

The album was recorded by Tomas Skogsberg at Studio Sunlight. Totally diggin the awesomely swamp landscape that Francesco Bauso of Negative Crypt Artwork created. It reminds the five-year old me of Luke's sopping wet landing on Dagobah, though guitarist Alex Risberg says the band's more inspired by Planet of the Apes than by Star Wars.

The album will be released on June 25th as a special vinyl "Green King Edition" by Interstellar Smoke Records pre-order here), a cassette tape "Forest Edition" from Ogo Rekords (pre-order here) and "Swamp Edition" from Olde Magick Records pre-order here), with the digital and compact disc formats handled by Death Valley Records (pre-order here).

10,0000 Years have in II their most accomplished album to date, with powerful moments that will stay with you long after the record's stopped spinning. Fans of High On Fire, Black Tusk, and The Sword listen up! You might just discover your next favorite band.

Give ear...

10,000 Years - Gargantuan Forest (Music Video)

Some Buzz

Having previously played together in the original lineup of Swedish underground heavyweights Pike, Erik Palm (Guitars) and Alex Risberg (Bass/vocals) found their way back to each other, musically, in early 2020. The creative fire reignited and stoked to a burning inferno and through a mutual love of heavy riffs and thundering stoner rock, doom, and sludge metal, 10,000 Years was born. Finding a drummer would prove to be an easy task and with Espen Karlsen the final piece lay firmly in place. The groove they fell into during the first rehearsal hasn’t stopped rumbling since.

After spending the first-half of 2020 writing and rehearsing, 10,000 Years recorded their self-titled debut EP during one weekend in June in the legendary Studio Sunlight with equally legendary producer Tomas Skogsberg. The self-titled EP was released on July 10th and immediately struck a chord with the heavy underground worldwide, and 10,000 Years garnered rave reviews and accolades.

10,000 Years by 10,000 Years

10,000 Years' musical and lyrical world revolves around the tale of the terran class III exploration vessel Albatross and its mission to explore the Milky Way and nearby galaxies in search for a possible new home for humanity. The EP tells the tale of its first foray into space and what happens when the crew accidentally travel through a wormhole and end up in an adjacent dimension populated by ancient gods and giant beings, ruled by the Green King. The EP ends with “From Suns Beyond,” where the crew make it off from the strange planet, back out into space in search of a way back home. The new album picks up the story as the Albatross blasts through the atmosphere of a seemingly unknown planet and crashlands headfirst into strange new adventures.

II by 10,000 Years

Now, less than a year after their first release, 10,000 Years are back with their first full-length effort, aptly titled 'II' (2021). Picking up right where the EP left off, II continues the story of the ill-fated Albatross mission and its exploration of time and space through a skull-crushing mixture of stoner rock, doom, and sludge metal. The album will no doubt continue to build on 10,000 Years' already golden reputation and prove to be an even bigger hit with the heavy masses.

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[soybeantree]

revenant

pairing: grimreaper!do kyungsoo x cemeteryworker!(reader) genre/warning: eventual fluff  word count: 2k+ description:  the surplus of spoopy ghost dramas as of late brought this little gem around. totally normal for a paranormal story in january, right?  a/n: january installment of our ‘trying to write a kyungsoo story for every month that he is gone’ series. hana promises that there will be a part 2 because b if there ain’t imma flip. she loves the angsty cliff-hangers. i HATE them. - em

Your mother always said the benefits to living in a rich city were innumerable. That’s a bit strong of an adjective, but you can agree that there are many benefits. You have access to great shops and great food, top rated schools, and the city is beautiful. Every building, street, and sign look like they were plucked from some children’s book. The city officials take great pride in the city’s appearance. Too much pride though, which is why you’re waking up at 9:30 in the evening for your 10:00 shift at the cemetery. The cemetery is one of the city’s top tourist attractions. The above ground mausoleums, the grand tombstones dating back centuries, they draw in countless visitors each day. As such, the city officials expend great effort and money to maintain the grounds and keep the stone gleaming. However, since appearance is everything, the cemetery’s caretakers, aka you, your father, and your grandmother before him, must only work at night. After all, what tourist wants to see a sweaty, mud-begrimed worker pushing a cart around the cemetery?

Despite the ridiculousness of the arrangement, you enjoy working at night. Grabbing a beanie, you pull it over your ears as you head out. A thin fog is your only companion as you walk the short distance to the cemetery’s back entrance. The lack of tourist makes your work easier and more bearable. If you had to do double duty as caretaker and tour guide, many tourists would find a new home in a mausoleum. Another benefit is the hefty paycheck. The extra money though is due less to working at night and more to the fact that the cemetery is haunted. Heading towards your tool shed, which is cleverly disguised as a mausoleum, you pass several spirits. The newer ones acknowledge you with a nod while the older ones wander by lost to themselves. During your school days, your classmates gave you a wide berth. They held the ignorant opinion that spirits followed you to school. However at that point, they would have had to follow your dad home then attached themselves to you then follow you to school. None of which made any sense. Ghosts rarely travel far from their resting place. Explaining that to your schoolmates though was a waste of breath, so you stopped. The caretaker position became yours by default. You went away for a few years after college, but real world jobs are too boring. When you came back, the city council all but kissed your feet. The slew of caretakers who came in after your father retired had lasted only days at a time. The cemetery was a mess. The city council was at its wits end. You could have asked for anything. In the end, you settled for the fat paycheck and complete autonomy. Pulling out your cart, you begin your work. The fog slips through the cemetery obscuring the paths and adding to the whole eerie haunted vibe. Your feet know the pathways, and you hum to yourself as you walk. On today’s “to do” list, you have polishing the mausoleums by the eastern entrance. Some city council dweeb had complained that they looked weathered and dingy. You wish he had said it to your face rather than hide behind an email, but he was probably too chicken-livered to step foot within the cemetery. “Good evening, caretaker.” The singsong voice grates against your ears. You stop in front of the first marble facade and pull a rag and polish out of your cart. “What has fouled your mood? Receive another rejection from a suitor?” “I’d have to have a suitor to be rejected by one.” You grunt as you crouch down to start on the base of the first column. “True.” She giggles. The ghost hovers beside you, the hem of her ethereal gown brushing against your cheek. You sneeze. “What has soured your mood then?” Sighing, you stand and move to the top of the column. With a huff, she floats to your other side and folds her hands in front of her. She glances over her shoulder then back at you. “The cemetery is awful quiet tonight.” You skirt around her as you move onto the next column. Beside the few specters you passed when you arrived, you have yet to meet another of the cemetery’s occupants since beginning your work. “Have you no curiosity for the cemetery’s silence?” “I assume it’s because Mrs. King started on about her grandkids again.” “Indeed not.” She simpers, peering at you from the columns other side. You divert your attention to your task, scrubbing an obstinate stain. Clearing her throat, she continues. “Mr. Long in plot 112 has gone malevolent.” Your hand stills. In addition to the high pay and freedom from human interaction, there is a third benefit to working nights at the cemetery. Arguably the best benefit, and one of the main reasons you returned. Of all the days to roll out of bed and throw on clothes, it had to be today. Yesterday, you had showered and worn decent clothing, not the stained cargo pants and t-shirt which you pulled from your laundry basket. You groan and toss your rag into the cart, fighting the urge to kick one of the wheels. Your work boots would easily protect your toes, but you’d rather not give your companion the satisfaction of seeing how deeply her news affects you. She smiles smugly at you. “I’m sure a reaper will take care of Mr. Long. You might want to make yourself scarce. I’d hate for the reaper to see you and take you with Mr. Long.” “Surely, you know which reaper has come.” She floats through the column to hover beside you. Often during your life, you have wished for the ability to slap a ghost. Today, the wish twitches your fingers, but you keep your hand by your side. Only reapers can touch ghosts. Of course, you know which reaper has come. The cemetery has a single reaper assigned to maintain order. He was in charge even before your grandmother’s time. His name is or was Kyungsoo. All your grandmother and father would say about him was that he was the cemetery’s Reaper, and it was best to leave him to work in peace. Which would be easy, if you hadn’t developed a crush on him when you were four. “Mr. Long is the first malevolent spirit since you started, correct? Which would mean this is the first time Reaper Kyungsoo has made his appearance?” Her smile widens. “How many years have passed since last you saw him? Surely, you wish to renew your acquaintance.” “Surely, you wish to mind your own damn business.” You hiss. Of all the damn ghosts to witness the first time you met Kyungsoo, it would have to be this bitch. She chuckles, and you shake your head. Stupid. However, now there’s no point in pretending you don’t care. Leaving the cart and your responsibilities behind, you race across the cemetery to plot 112.

-

A malevolent spirit is frightening to anyone who hasn’t grown up around ghosts. The normally human-appearing spirit transforms into a towering demon. There’s a lot of ear-splitting screeching and gusts of wind which dig into the ground spraying rocks and dirt into the air, and an overwhelming sense of dread fills your chest and tugs at fear. However, growing up around ghosts, you learn when you should be afraid and when the malevolent spirit is just a pissy, windbag. Mr. Long is the later. Sitting on the tombstone of a spirit who long ago passed into the beyond, you watch the skirmish between spirit and reaper. Kyungsoo rushes forward scythe in hand. His black robes billow out behind him as he leaps forward. The scythe slices through Mr. Long as he passes him. A final screech peters to a whimper as Mr. Long returns to himself. Kyungsoo lands, spinning the moment his feet touch ground. He faces his opponent, his scythe posed behind him, ready for the next swing. Mr. Long stares forlornly at the reaper then at the mess he has made of his burial site. He whimpers again. The sound tugs at your heart strings. While you are the one who will have to put the area to rights, you sympathize for the spirit. He’s new to the cemetery, two years in the grave. You didn’t know him when he was alive, and you haven’t spent much time around him since he arrived. However, you know his grave marker cost less than two hundred and that he never has flowers placed on it. He stands beside it during the day, staring at the cemetery’s entrance. Kyungsoo relaxes his stance. His scythe disappears as he steps forward. From this distance, you fail to hear the exchange between reaper and spirit, but you can see the relief in Mr. Long’s shoulders. A reaper’s duty is to ferry the dead to their final resting place and protect the living from the dead. Kyungsoo will allow Mr. Long to remain in the world of the living and will not resort to drastic measures to protect the living. You’ve heard of reapers who decimate a malevolent spirit without a thought. Kyungsoo has never been like that. Even that first time you met him, he brought the spirit back to sanity. Back then, you had thought he was some kind of superhero. He appeared from nowhere and rescued you and the monster. The conversation ends, and Mr. Long disappears to wherever ghost go. You asked both you grandmother and father where ghosts go when they disappear from the living world. Both blustered without giving a satisfactory explanation. You assume they go rest in their graves. “You’ve returned.” The voice is soft like the footsteps which brought it near you. Glancing up, you find Kyungsoo standing a few feet from you. Your heart quickens and rises through your throat, blocking all words. So you nod. “I am happy to know your family will continue to oversee the cemetery. The caretakers after your father had no place here.” Your head bobs along as you force your heart back into your chest. “I guess not everyone is cut out to work with the dead.” He smiles, and your heart rises once again. You cough and look away. “Your father is well?” You nod, keeping your eyes on the rows of tombstones. “He retired to a beach somewhere.” In a whisper, you ask, “My grandmother?” “She passed beyond when she died. I saw her off well.” As you had thought, your grandmother wasn’t one to linger in the living world. She had done her work and been satisfied with her life. “I look forward to working with you.” His words nearly force your heart from your body. You choke on it, falling off your perch from the violence of your hacking. “Are you unwell?” He crouches before you ensuring you meet his gaze. “Fine.” You croak as you push yourself off the ground and put distance between you two. “I also look forward to working with you. Not that I hope you come a lot because malevolent spirits are bad, but also when you do come I won’t be mad.” Your words peter out, and you wish you could have choked again. Kyungsoo maintains the distance you set, his lips curving down into a pout as you rambled. “Thank you for helping Mr. Long. I’ll take extra care to check on him.” You swerve the conversation. His lips turn up into a soft smile. He glances behind him at plot 112. “He is a good man and will find peace if he allows himself.” When his attention returns to you, you can feel the charge in his eyes. A caretaker’s job is more than maintaining the cemetery’s appearance. The truest duty is held within the title. You must take care of the spirits and help them on their way. You nod. “Thank you.” He bows his head. “I must be going.” In the next instant, the space before you is empty. You remain staring at that space, a forgotten smile on your lips. “I am beginning to understand your lack of suitors.” Your smile sours. You really wish you could slap a ghost.

[chromeskiesstuff]

The Killing of Three Thousand Crows Recap EP 1 三千鸦杀

This drama has been a huge blast - I am 8 EPs in and the plot, characters are wonderful and refreshing. The main leads are a hoot themselves, being very hilarious and have their own unique personalities. Props to CGI and costume theme who does their best to make it realistic while in budget, in particularly the costumes feel so natural and pretty.

So just a brief introduction:

This is a Xianxia adaptation from novel of the same name. Xianxia = it involves immortals. Our heroine, Yan Yan, or with her adult/real name Qin Chuan (覃川) is a mortal princess of her country and it has been destroyed by the demon people. Her people are slain and she vowed to kill off each and every demon people to bring peace to her people.

The Male Lead is Jiu Yun (九云), a powerful young immortal who has a crush on her, and he has seen through her ten lives/ previous reincarnation.

We started off with our male lead, Jiu Yun and his friend. His friend ponders why he is sharing with him a drawing by his Shifu/Master and what is it about.

He replied that this was about a war where drums are beating, and bones anre piling up. He also said he didn’t understand the meaning of the drawing for thousand years.

The cinematography is pretty amazing and the narration done by Zhen Ye Cheng (yes our Male lead does his own dubbing along with Zhao Luo Si) is nothing short of haunting. The sequence is written in a semi-classical format, and its a thing of beauty when it combines with great cinematography, great colour combinations, great symbolism (eg drums that reinvigorate a dying party) , great prose and great narration. Look at her red robes flowing in harsh winter while hitting the drums. Maybe I should translate this part later :D

His friend retorted. “It’s normal for mortals to be in war”. He replied "I finally met her yesterday. I have been searching for her for a thousand years” while the screen switch to her facing her enemies alone. 

I presume she didn’t survive. Based on some notes on the novel this was her past life. Anyway I really dig these prologues as of late as its normally shot wonderfully and in a simplistic manner + introduce the whole thing.

The scene switched to an enormous paper bird flying down to a city.

I love the design of the paper bird. Its delicate. Can I have one for a Mercedes?

Our heroine slept at class, slacking off  from learning paper folding spells which is a secret skill of Dali royalty. He also scold her that she have already learn for a year but she knew nothing.Her Shifu challenges her to make ten paper crane. 

She could fight with Bai Qian with tardiness though what Bai Qian did is even more crayy

She defended herself that paper folding spells emphasize on making it freely/casually. Under her shifu threat, she back off, saying she can do it anyway, but instead she made a frog.

The sequence is amazing btw. The CGI is really on point here :D

The paper container too is delightfully designed. Along with the sunscreen panels at the background

The set design and the headdress. Its amazing. Look at the Peach blossom background :D. And I enjoyed her acting a lot. She displays the right amount of mischievousness here :D

Our princess met with her brother and to cheer her up,  her brother shows her a painting he obtained. She said the painting is fine but not worth two to three thousand coins. 

Yeap. It looks like regular drawing even from my POV. But I hope whoever drawing this is not offended T_T (based on TMOPB the artist will normally on set whenever their artwork is shown)

He asks her to look at it carefully. Soon the garden turns into winter, and winter plum blossom starts blooming, and sometime later it turns back to normal. She excitedly asks him where he obtains the painting. He told her he obtained it from the famed painter, Gongzi Qi (公子齐).

Cue hilarity ensured of Gongzi Qi being synonymous with celebrity, full-on with fans dying to have his artwork and to see him,  and her brother the prince being very excited to obtain one. While looking for the artist, a scroll appears on his hand and he looks both happy and confused.

Here’s how he describes Gongzi Qi:

Gongzi Qi, he was rumoured to be extremely handsome, with one of the kind drawing skills. He was rumoured to apply rare immortal spells to his artwork.

She muses that man is too proud. And if Gonzi Qi said his art skills are his second-best skill, then his music skills should be out of the world. Her brother said he wrote a song titled East Wind Peach Blossom Flower .. nope it's half a song not a full song (WTF XD) and he refuses to write the other half, saying that no dancer will be able to dance this song (I see you Gongzi Qi, you are tempting her). Indeed our princess is up to the challenge and asks her brother to request him to finish the song so she can dance to it.

The siblings then visit their cousin, where her brother advises her not to be rude. Apparently their aunt and cousin are attending their mom’s 40th birthday celebration.

After greetings and praises, the two women throwing barbs at each other, we know that Xuan Zhu (玄珠，the cousin) recently start to learn immortal skills under a mysterious teacher. Their barbs become a quarrel, causing their companions to try to rein them in. Yan Yan excuses herself. The quarrel continues as both are tugging a purple handkerchief. 

A man came in. Yan Yan seems to be jealous that this guy (Zuo Zi Chen, 左紫辰) seems to come here to visit Xuan Zhu. He clarifies that he is here on behalf of his father to see her cousins. She instantly brightens up and let him go. 

OK, first crush? And guy seems to be interested.

At the court, the King seems to be really worried about Tian Yuan, as they have usurped three countries around Dali. He is also worried as his prime minister Zuo (Zi Chen dad) applies for retirement at this time due to health. He announces that he will pay a visit to Prime Minister Zuo.

Our Prime Minister seems quite healthy (healthier than the king!!) and performs some ritual that's clearly demonic.

This is performed in front of a satan like figure. That's demonic even in Taoist book right?

Our prince got the sheet music, but with a bet from Gongzi Qi: She must be able to perform it, else he will make her a laughing stock. While visiting the prime minister, she took the opportunity to visit Zi Chen. She blocks him from visiting the king. Instead, she wants him to ask him something on the new music sheet she obtained since he is extremely good with music.

uwuuw the music sheets are so pretty

Zi Chen was amazed since he never saw such complicated tunes. There is a catch though. The verse she pointed out is rather bloody and will cause the audience and the performer to feel very sad, totally inappropriate for a birthday celebration. He answers the way to go is to change the tunes from a sad tone to a happy one.

Girl is clearly enamored with him and his skills. He turned around and ask whether his modified tunes sounds right. She thinks it's great. And she gifted him a hairpin, helping him to wear the new hairpin. She finishes pining the hairpin and touches his face. He reciprocates by grabbing her hand tenderly

OMG I must say this scene is so well done. Very tender, and little words need to be said.

After she left, his father looks for him. He looks anything but friendly. He asks whether he knew the reason the king came. Oh gosh, the prince is way too naive. His father is clearly plotting about something. But he is a young man in the midst of meeting his first love, maybe that's why he didn't catch on the shenanigans.

The Princess is totally unaware of the plot tho, she happily shares her joy with her maid, Aman and hoping for the day Zi Chen will marry her. She also declares that she will be able to conquer the tough music sheets and it will prove Zi Chen's musicality is superior to Gongzi Qi. 

At night Gongzi Qi visited her, leaving her a note. She wakes up and declared again that she will win their bet. Gongzi Qi hears her in the court garden and leaves with a smile.

It seems like the budget is spent on the prince wardrobe. His gear looks very natural and menacing ha. But the candles deco is totally inferior to TMOPB Ye Hua house. Maybe the Demon People are saving the $ for war?

Yan Yan dance is stellar, she interprets the music sheets beautifully, with peach blossoms,snow and leaves. The audience including her brother, Zi Chen, and Gongzi Qi are amazed.

Oh wow the music is wonderful. It reminds me of TMOPB EP30 Peach blossom scene OST - the warm and sweet feel kinda touch. And the dance is shot beautifully. Although I think some of the dance moves are done by a professional dancer? Not a problem imo since one of the most beautiful performances in cdrama history is choreographed by a dancer.

And YESSSS.... his wardrobe is really on point here and the angles the cinematographer take is really good. He is not your conventionally attractive lead so I understand that some angles will not stand out. Kudos to the production team!

The dance ended and Gongzi Qi was shocked that she changed the ending of his sheet music. HA, SO YOU KNOW SHE IS GONNA PERFORM AT HER MUM’S BIRTHDAY BASH PARTY AND YOU WRITE HER A BLOODY TUNE? lmao he is pissed and serves him right XD. And what's wrong with your bestie XD? He seems to have a tendency to pine after a married woman.

They met Shifu who seems to be their ShiXiong (Elder brother disciple). Shifu reminded Gonzi Qi that since he is an immortal, he shouldn’t involve with mortal matters especially when Yan Yan is still very young. Gongzi Qi asks if he insists on doing it? Shifu replied that her fate has been decided and he shouldn’t go against fate. He seems to accept that decree and he hands over a huge scroll of painting, requesting Shifu to pass it to her.

Note: The reason why Shifu is able to involve is that he owes a debt to the Dali Royal family per the book.

At night the city is being attacked, and Yan Yan wakes up feeling happy and refreshed. She saw the painting scroll, both her and her maid marvelled at the painting and she told her maid that she wants to go outside alone to visit Zi Chan.

Meanwhile, Zi Chan father sent his son away “ For praying in the temple. Do request for glory at Royal Court”. His son wonders as his dad will not need it because he is retiring. His dad replies smoothly that it’s for Zi Chan. Zi Chan wanted to pray for his father’s health, and his father praised him lightly, sending him away. Looks like he is sending him away for safety. 

COMMENTS

I have been waiting for this drama for some time, and luckily they are no longer stuck in broadcasting hell. This EP has a lot to unpack, introducing the background and characters. I feel this EP wonderfully introduces multiple characters while making Yan Yan and Zi Chan characters unique. Yan Yan character is sweet while slightly spoiled, she is still very charming herself, and have all the characteristics of a well-loved high born lady. Zi Chan too stands out as the highly ranked son, with his politeness and his crush with Yan Yan being really subtle. Plot-wise it is interesting and hopefully, the revenge plot won’t be too over the top later. The drama is also not afraid to insert some modern jokes (AHEM CELEBRITY ARTIST) while feeling super natural in doing so.

 The magic spells they introduce are fairly unique too (paper magic) which can be quite handy. The brief introduction of paper cranes and paper frogs are delightful. The costumes are delightful too. One of the difficulties of cdrama production is making costumes natural relative to the period and making it beautiful. I love Zi Chan wardrobe here because he looks great in it while not making him too prince-like. Likewise I like that Gongzi Qi wardrobe are slightly more fancier than a normal immortal /Taoist disciple (YEAH HIS WEIRDASS WAYS) but not that fancy.

I think one of the downsides for this drama is the set production. Some of the sets like the snow scene are totally beautiful, while at some parts its so obvious the wood is made of plastic, or the garden looks too tropical. That being said I understand cdrama fantasy budgets are tight + high likelihood of delayed broadcasting, so these downsides are relatively minor, plus the cinematography team is killing it, so I think in overall any fan of xianxia should watch it.

[lukeskywaker4ever]

Inês de Castro, Queen of Portugal (posthumous), (Wife of King Pedro I of Portugal

Inês de Castro (1325 – 7 January 1355 in Coimbra) was a Galician noblewoman best known as lover and posthumously-recognized wife of King Pedro I of Portugal. The dramatic circumstances of her relationship with Pedro (at the time Prince of Portugal), which was forbidden by his father King Afonso IV, her murder at the orders of Afonso, Pedro's bloody revenge on her killers, and the legend of the coronation of her exhumed corpse by Pedro, have made Inês de Castro a frequent subject of art, music, and drama through the ages.

Inês was the natural daughter of Pedro Fernández de Castro, Lord of Lemos and Sarria, and his noble Portuguese mistress Aldonça Lourenço de Valadares. Her family descended both from the Galician and Portuguese nobilities. She was also well connected to the Castilian royal family, by illegitimate descent. Her stepmother was Infanta Beatriz of Portugal, the youngest daughter of Afonso of Portugal, Lord of Portalegre and Violante Manuel. Her grandmother was Violante Sánchez de Castile, Lady of Uzero, the illegitimate daughter of Sancho IV of Castile. Her great-great grandfather was Rodrigo Alfonso de León, Lord of Aliger, the illegitimate son of Afonso IX of León. She was also legitimately descended from Infanta Sancha Henriques of Portugal, the daughter of Henry, Count of Portugal.

Inês came to Portugal in 1340 as a maid of Constança of Castile, recently married to Pedro, the heir apparent to the Portuguese throne. The prince fell in love with her and started to neglect his lawful wife, endangering the already feeble relations with Castile. Moreover, Pedro's love for Inês brought the exiled Castilian nobility very close to power, with Inês's brothers becoming the prince's friends and trusted advisers. King Afonso IV of Portugal, Pedro's father, disliked Inês's influence on his son and waited for their mutual infatuation to wear off, but it did not.

Constança of Castile died in 1345. Afonso IV tried several times to arrange for his son to be remarried, but Pedro refused to take a wife other than Inês, who was not deemed eligible to be queen. Pedro's legitimate son, future King Fernando I of Portugal, was a frail child, whereas Pedro and Inês's illegitimate children were thriving; this created even more discomfort among the Portuguese nobles, who feared the increasing Castilian influence over Pedro. Afonso IV banished Inês from the court after Constança's death, but Pedro remained with her declaring her as his true love. After several attempts to keep the lovers apart, Afonso IV ordered Inês's death. Pêro Coelho, Álvaro Gonçalves, and Diogo Lopes Pacheco went to the Monastery of Santa Clara-a-Velha in Coimbra, where Inês was detained, and killed her, decapitating her in front of her small child. When Pedro heard of this he sought out the killers and managed to capture two of them in 1361. He executed them publicly, ripping their hearts out claiming they didn't have one after having pulverized his own heart.

Pedro became king of Portugal in 1357 (Pedro I of Portugal). He then stated that he had secretly married Inês, who was consequently the lawful queen, although his word was, and still is, the only proof of the marriage.

During the 1383–85 Crisis of royal succession in Portugal, João das Regras

produced evidence that allegedly established that Pope Innocent IV had refused Pedro's request to recognize his marriage to Inês and legitimize his children by her, the elder of whom, João, Duke of Valencia de Campos

would have a strong potential claim to the throne of Portugal. By negating these children's claimed legitimacy, João das Regras strengthened the claim of another illegitimate child of Pedro I of Portugal: João, Master of Aviz, who ultimately took the throne and ruled as João I of Portugal.

Some sources say that after Pedro became king of Portugal, he had Inês' body exhumed from her grave and forced the entire court to swear allegiance to their new queen: "The king [Pedro] caused the body of his beloved Inês to be disinterred, and placed on a throne, adorned with the diadem and royal robes. and required all the nobility of the kingdom to approach and kiss the hem of her garment, rendering her when dead that homage which she had not received in her life..." 

Some modern sources characterize the story of the Inês' post-mortem coronation is a "legend." and it is most likely a myth, since the story only appeared in 1577 in Jerónimo Bermúdez' play Nise Laureada. She was later buried at the Monastery of Alcobaça where her coffin can still be seen, opposite Pedro's so that, according to the legend, at the Last Judgment Pedro and Inês can look at each other as they rise from their graves. (which is also not true since the tombs already were in different positions before). Both marble coffins are exquisitely sculpted with scenes from their lives and a promise by Pedro that they would be together até ao fim do mundo (until the end of the world).

Inês de Castro and Pedro I had the following children, who were legitimized by Pedro I on 19 March 1361:

Afonso, died shortly after birth.

Beatriz (1347-1381), married Sancho Alfonso, 1st Count of Alburquerque and was thereby the great-grandmother of Fernando II of Aragon.

João (1349-1387), Duke of Valencia de Campos, claimant to the throne during the 1383–85 Crisis.

Dinis (1354-1397), Lord of Cifuentes, claimant to the throne during the 1383–1385 Crisis.

Inês de Castro's story is immortalized in several plays and poems in Portuguese, such as The Lusíadas by Luís de Camões (canto iii, stanzas 118-135), and Spanish, such as Nise lastimosa and Nise laureada (1577) by Jerónimo Bermúdez, Reinar despues de morir by Luís Vélez de Guevara, as well as by the comtesse de Genlis (Inès de Castro, 1826), and in a play by French playwright Henry de Montherlant called La Reine morte (The Dead Queen). Inês de Castro is a novel by Maria Pilar Queralt del Hierro in Spanish and Portuguese.

Plays written in English include Aphra Behn's Agnes de Castro, or, the Force of Generous Love (1688); and Catharine Trotter Cockburn's Agnes de Castro (1695). Mary Russell Mitford also wrote a drama from the story entitled Inez de Castro.

Felicia Hemans' poem The Coronation of Inez de Castro first appeared in The New Monthly Magazine in 1828.

She is a recurring figure in Ezra Pound's The Cantos. She appears first at the end of Canto III, in the lines Ignez da Castro murdered, and a wall/Here stripped, here made to stand.

There have been over 20 operas and ballets created about Inês de Castro. Operas from the 18th and 19th centuries include:

Ines di Castro by Bernhard Anselm Weber (1790, Hanover)

Ines di Castro by Niccolò Antonio Zingarelli (1798)

Ines de Castro by Walter Savage Landor (1831)

Ines de Castro by Giuseppe Persiani to a libretto by Salvadore Cammarano (1835)

Ines di Castro by Pietro Antonio Coppola (1842, Lisbon)

In modern times, Inês de Castro has continued to inspire operatic works, including:

Ines de Castro by Scottish composer James MacMillan. This work was first performed at the 1996 Edinburgh International Festival

Wut [de] (Rage) in German by Swiss composer Andrea Lorenzo Scartazzini. The world premiere of this work was given at the Theater Erfurt, Germany, on 9 September 2006.

Ines de Castro by American composer Thomas Pasatieri. This work premiered in 1976 with the Baltimore Opera Company.

Ines by Canadian composer James Rolfe. Premiered in 2009 by the Queen of Puddings Music Theatre Company in Toronto.

In addition, Portuguese composer Pedro Camacho (born 1979) composed the Requiem to Inês de Castro, first performed on March 28, 2012 in New Cathedral of Coimbra on the occasion of 650 years of the transportation of Ines de Castro's body from Coimbra to Alcobaça Monastery. Christopher Bochman, with the Lisbon Youth Orchestra, has produced an opera "Corpo E Alma" (Body and Soul) focusing on Pedro's transition from a sensual to a spiritual love following her death, drawing on various aspects of the tale.