#probably will make more ocs to tag alongside his story..

[neptunes-blue]

OC DROP!! This is Judah “Hawk” Hawkins and he’s my son. My insane, bastard, feral dog son.

Bonus… he’s customisable

[foxymoxynoona]

To Kill A King (Chapter 16)

Banner and linebreaks by the talented @awrkives

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How’s the prince?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck,” Taehyung said.

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

“Where you said?”

“Yes, it’s–”

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

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

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

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

“No one in or out,” a guard told her.

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

“No one called,” another one said.

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

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

Fools, every one of you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I didn’t do this.

I did do this.

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

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

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

“Hey!”

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

“Let go of me–”

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

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

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

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

Someone wanted to be caught. They wanted the attention.

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

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

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

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

She picked a path and set off.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You were stabbed,” Jungkook answered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Anyone else injured?”

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

“Wha?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Dead before that as in–”

“Someone killed him before and put him there.”

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

“Who someone?”

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

“Has someone been feeding–”

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

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

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

“Your Highness, you should remain in bed–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I will avoid strolling, understood.”

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

“Unless his heart ruptures!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Seokjin.”

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

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

“He said so.”

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

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

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

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

“Because they do not understand to be grateful.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It wasn’t done to annoy you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“The battlefield is merely the path.”

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

“The starving people to the east disagree.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mother’s rooms?” Seokjin interrupted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is that your command?”

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

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

“Seokjin?”

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

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

He had indeed felt a twinge in his chest.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

… Right?

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

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

“Well I think I’ll–”

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

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

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

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

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

“It got quiet suddenly,” Jungkook explained.

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

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

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

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

“How bad is it?”

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

“Where’s Taehyung?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Lovely. I’ll have to thank her.”

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

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

“Don’t know, I didn’t see.”

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

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

Each cut will hurt worse.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh… you did?”

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

“Who denied you?” he asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ser, it’s time for–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He’s a… squirrel.”

“He is.”

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

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

Nasimiyu nodded, not sure what else to say.

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

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

“I already know that.”

“I like dogs,” she admitted.

“More than cats?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Who had done this?

Did her father have someone else acting without telling her?

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

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

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

“I know but I can pretend.”

“Pretend what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s how I cope.”

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

“Like what? How do you cope?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“About which part?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Does your uncle want to declare war?”

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

“And your father wants…”

“Undecided.”

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

“You agree with my uncle then?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She’s from Paloma.”

“Yes… hm… how do I put this…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh. Fuck. 

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

What had he found? 

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

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

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

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

“No. No, I haven’t.”

Dulce, what have you done?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dulce, what have you done?!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“They… don’t.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you all right?”

“I’m just tired. I’m all right.”

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

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

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

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

“I’m calling for the doctor.”

“I’m fine.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Your dagger? Which one?”

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s Dulce’s,” Nasimiyu corrected.

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

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

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

“See that you do!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mind you, the prince is sleeping!”

“How dare you use that tone with me!”

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

“Let me in right this moment.”

“He is resting though–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It had all happened so fast. 

Well, apparently the prince was indeed awake.

PREVIOUS | MASTERLIST | NEXT

[vesanal]

ʚɞ  ~Blog Introduction Post~ ʚɞ  

Howdy there!! Ok. So. It’s been long enough. Probably should have done this earlier but here it is now!

Anyways, hello! You can call me Ves/Vesanal or some variant of that! I love to write and do art because I like to suffer creatively twice. I am getting back into writing after a while and I will be using this blog to share my works as they come along!! I have some projects I’m working on that I am very excited to share with y’all!! 

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

→Quick Links:

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Join The Taglist!!

Writemas Masterlist!!

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→Here is some info about me:

I love love love making art and writing. Those are two of my greatest passions in life

Pronouns are She/Her

Plotter by heart, I cannot call a story finished if I do not know every minute detail. Quite overwhelming at times but I get by!

I am a stressed out college student who probably shouldn't be scrolling tumblr all day long but here I am. 

Computer Science/Math Major, I couldn’t decide on which subject to drain my soul from so I picked both. If I am a bit inactive at times it is due to this 

Love to yap and listen to certified yappers about fandoms and OC’s. Infodump about WIPs to me!!! I will gladly listen!!

Proud lesbian, and yes the lgbt girl in CS stereotype is alive and true. If you have a problem with this you are on the wrong website friend

Some of my favorite genres are Fantasy, Sci-Fi, and Drama. Gotta love TV shows and movies to absolutely nerd out over :D

The type of music I like is all over the place but mostly I stick to hard rock, heavy metal, and thrash metal (I would be more than happy to tell y'all about the bands and like and even recommend some)

My MBTI personality type is INTP-T

I am a complete Tumblr NOOB. Please bear with me here while i try to figure out the hellsite <3

My time zone is CST/CT (Central Time)

You can DM me anytime. Along with asks too, but please do not send me any promotions or begs for money. PLEASE. I have gotten a few of those recently and I just want to say that is not what my blog is for. Other than that, asks are completely open! If you have a question, please ask me!!! :) <3

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→Some of the wips of mine:

(There will be separate intro/masterposts for each of these when i get to them

The Bone-Binder’s Covenant 

(click link to see masterpost)

Basic Premise: The Bone-Binder has broken his promise with the land of Pytharios, and is now terrorizing the region to get what he wants. Chosen directly by the Queen, Aerlyra Ghorne–a promising yet incredibly unsure woman–is tasked to stop him for once and for all. With the help of her assigned crew and companions who join alongside her during the journey, she hopes to do just that. 

Tags: #The Bone-Binder’s Covenant or #TBBC

Genre: Dark Fantasy; Adventure

Status: Active (Somewhat done and planned, still getting a feel for everything, still brainstorming some ideas)

I will be adding more links as I post!!

We Die As One

(Adding masterpost soon)

Basic Premise: Tells the story from a series of ancient journals that are uncovered showing the events following up the total wipeout of all magic. The journal entries focus on a group of scrappy, young heroes who are on a mission against the world, and fail to stop the evils of the world from taking over. All that is left of them is the journals, leaving the ways of the past to be seen as a distant memory and an inspiration to the new generation, who see how the world came to what it has become.

Tags: #We Die As One or #WDAO

Genre: High Fantasy; Action-Adventure

Status: Active (ish, still in idea-phase)

I will be adding more links as I post!!

I still have more WIPS but those are secrets for later ;)

I’ll be posting mainly about my wips, ask games, the occasional art, and writing memes so stay if you are into that!! You can ask me questions any time, don’t be afraid to ask!

Taglist under the cut (interreact with this post here to be +, notify me if you want to be -)

@seastarblue @seafloor507 @stars-forever @viridis-icithus @estrellasxxminis @synthesistoagreatercreation @ink-stains-and-constellations @wyked-rebellion @satohqbanana @amatowriting @riverstixx @theodora47 @selfemployedmess @thebookishkiwi @17panicattacksinatrenchcoat @memento-morianon @the-ellia-west @write-with-will @jwritesalright @sunflowerrosy @myniceisniceblogbloglog @corinneglass

[shes4twnksinatrnchct]

Hell of a Show

Jake Kiszka x fem oc

Fifteen years after resigning from Greta Van Fleet, for reasons undisclosed to the public, Coley Payne is asked by her former band members to tell her side of the story.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, SMUT: fingering, oral (f. receiving), unprotected sex (p. in v.), explicit language, angst, first love, fluff, mentions of cheating

Words: 3.7k

Thank you to everyone who continues to read/reblog/like/comment, it means so, so much to me and I appreciate your support so much!

Please keep in mind this is a work of fiction and enjoy!

***LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED***

***Table of Contents***

The Rise: Part I

DANNY: Man, we were ready to go. We know that our rise, once we got signed to a label, appeared to occur overnight but we worked for years to even be acknowledged by anybody in the music business. We were just hungry for it, so by the time Al approached us we really buckled down and collectively decided that we were really gonna try to make it happen.

2017

Coley’s fingertips try to relieve the tension that’s knotting itself up in the center of her forehead as Jake and Josh go back and forth trying to agree on a key while Sam’s lost in conversation with Al who explains the technicality of some setting on the soundboard laid out in front of them. 

She grabs her phone from the pocket of her sweat pants and sees 8:57p.m. staring back at her. 

Growing restless and annoyed—feeling as though she’s been trapped in this damn studio all day even though it’s only been a handful of hours—she starts to become silently weepy.

Daniel, who’s been listening to Al alongside Sammy, glances over at Coley to see she’s got her eyes closed and her palm on her forehead, with her elbow propped on the arm rest of the swivel chair she’s tucked into while waiting for her boyfriend and his brother to get on the same page. 

“You okay, Coley?” He asks. 

“I’m starting to feel like I’m being held hostage.” She explains to him when she opens her eyes and sees him staring at her. 

Josh overhears her in the midst of his back and forth with his twin, smoothly turning to look over his shoulder and pipe, “we’re almost there,” before turning back to his brother to pick up where he left off. 

“You’ve been saying that for ten minutes.” She retorts, Josh pausing to look at her once again, somewhat irritated. 

“Well, you’d probably be less bored if you came over here and contributed.” He passively smiles out, to which she raises her brows and looks at Jake. 

He flatly looks at his brother and says, “Josh. Give her a break—she’s been here for five hours and you’ve bitched and nitpicked her almost the whole time. People don’t wanna share their opinions with you when you think it’s all shit.”

“I’ve made suggestions.” Josh corrects his brother. 

“...About guitar when you don’t even fucking play.” Coley retorts. 

“Hey, guys, let’s not.” Al’s pulled from his conversation with Sam, feeling the tension once more building within the room. 

“If Thumbelina wants to get her panties in a twist over my opinion—which is superior—then there’s nothing I can do about that.” Josh tells him. 

Jake eyes his girlfriend over Josh’s shoulder, silently pleading with her not to keep arguing because they both know Josh can go for hours if he feels the need to. 

JOSH: We were all under a little duress and I just didn’t want it to sound like shit. And it didn’t…because of my refusal to let it sound like shit. Do you see where I’m going with this?

JAKE: Josh was wound up so tightly around that time that he just wanted things to go as smoothly as they could. He’s always been very particular, which we all could pick through and critique each other a little too much at times, but we really had to learn how to just be okay with not every take sounding perfectly polished and flawless. Once we came to the conclusion that part of the authenticity of the music lay in the little mistakes made here and there, it wasn’t so testy to be in the studio for hours on end with each other.

“I’m going to the bathroom.” Coley states, next, huffing out a breath and standing up to stretch before sarcastically inquiring to Josh, “Any other suggestions you wanna make for me?”

“A smoke break and a motrin, maybe.” He quips, earning a harsh shove to his shoulder from Jake.

“Don’t be a sassy-ass.” Sammy sighs out to him while Coley ignores his comment and steps out.

“She knows it’s out of love.” Josh shrugs as the door shuts behind her. 

When Coley gets in the hallway, she’s scrolling through her phone, seeing that she’s missed a text message from Sherri. 

Sister💕 Don’t forget to text me when you guys are on the way over. Hopefully I’m about to get Kayce to bed. 

Coley We’re probably about to head out when I get back from the bathroom. 

Coley locks her phone and slides it back into her pocket when she reaches the bathroom. 

Once she’s done, she’s washing her hands and going back to the room her friends and boyfriend are still hard at work in. 

“…Look, it needs to be higher so the—”

“—Jake?” 

Josh stops speaking, the two of them looking at Coley before she’s waving her boyfriend over to her. 

Putting his guitar aside, he does as she’s asked, and Coley feels her heart pick up its pace in her chest as he grows closer to her. 

Looking up at him while her fingertips fumble with one of the buttons of his flannel, she quietly asks,  “Can we please put a pin in this for tonight? Sherri’s waiting up for us, and it’s gonna take an hour for us to get to their house.” 

Jake looks down at her, unable to help the way his focus on everything except her melts away with the bat of her lashes and silent begging behind her blue eyes. 

He rubs his lips together, glancing at his brothers. 

When his umber gaze shifts to her once again, briefly, she knows she’s garnered a small victory for the night. 

She cracks a triumphant grin when he turns to look at his brothers and says, “Hey, guys, we’re gonna call it a night. Me and Coley are gonna be at her sister’s tonight.” 

~ * ~

“Fuck!” Her high-pitched, shaky cry echoes in the cab of Jake’s car, her writhing hips moving in sync with his through her orgasm, her bare chest pressed to his t-shirt while his hands keep a vice grip on her ass. 

One thing had led to another while he was driving, as it sometimes tends to, and they somehow ended up pulled over on the side of a back road…another thing that sometimes tends to happen. 

His hand runs over the smooth beige patch of birth control that’s adhered to her skin right above her ass…

“You want it?” He asks her slyly, knowing the answer as his tongue licks along hers, her pussy continuing to tighten around him. 

“Every drop.” She struggles out, her head fuzzy and her stomach aching from her taut abdominal muscles tensing. 

His brows scrunch, his head falling to the crook of her shoulder as he forces her down on his length, a sharp, “Ah!” Leaving her throat as he empties into her as deep as he can, the both of them panting, Jake huffing the scent of her lotioned skin mixed with the aroma of her shampooed hair. 

After they catch their breath, and Jake’s had his round of spoiling her with sickly sweet kisses in the midst of her easing back down from her high, Coley shifts from his lap with a wince at the sight of his soaked jeans. 

“I’m sorry.” She tells him as he looks down at the wet denim. 

“Don’t be.” He shakes his head, glancing at his lap before looking at his girlfriend who’s reaching for her panties, pulling her knees to her chest to slip them over her ankles. 

“Jake!” She scolds despite her weak giggle, as his hand slides between her legs, “We don’t have time for—shit!” 

She stops arguing when his fingers delve into her pretty, swollen cunt, Jake craving to hear the way Coley says his name as she comes again. 

Her back is hitting the seat underneath them, Jake crawling over her before tugging one of her nipples between his teeth, chuckling at the sound of her hands scrambling to find something to brace herself with as she arches into him. 

“There’ll always be time for this,” He states to  her, in a crooked smile.

“Promise?” She asks, her constant whimpering turning into full-fledged moans that escape her when he quickens his fingers, curling them into their hot walls. 

“I promise,” Jake assures her before their tongues tangle together, only breaking from one another as she begins to chase her next wave. 

She can’t even speak, her eyes almost rolling back  as the lewd sounds of his fingers fucking into her floods the car. 

Grabbing his free hand, she guides it around her throat, clinging to his wrist with both of her hands before her pink tongue sticks out to welcome the spit that deliberately rolls from his mouth. 

“My sweet girl is getting cum everywhere, you know that?” He teases, seeing his own release leaking from her along with her glistening slick, “Just for me.”

“Only you,” She whines, her toes curling as she chokes back a sob as she tightens around his fingers stronger as she hoarsely gasps, “Jake,” as the familiar knot in her core begins to feel as if it’s about to disintegrate entirely. 

“You can make as big of a mess you want to, pretty girl, c’mon,” He encourages her. 

She does just that, thighs shaking as her back bows upward and her nails claw at his arm, a loud wail leaving her lips as she succumbs to his persuasion. 

Jake doesn’t believe he’ll ever grow bored of seeing her come, addicted to watching her fall apart just as much as he is seeing her smile. 

Her eyes close as her heart hammers in her ears, her head growing light momentarily in exhaustion. 

Jake leans down and kisses her hair before helping her get cleaned up the best he can with spare napkins he collects in his glove box from fast food visits. 

Once she’s got her clothes back on and is once more in the passenger seat as he drives, she starts dozing off with his hand tightly intertwined with hers. 

After arriving to Sherri and Trace’s, they both shower and Jake starts on dinner while Coley takes up time with Sherri, Kayce, and Collins. 

Soon after dinner is eaten, the sound of the kitchen sink running mingles with the clumsy strumming taking place in the living room where Jake’s attempting to let Kayce try his hand at guitar.

Sherri grabs the plate once Coley scrubs and washes it off, her older sister drying it before putting it away in the cupboard, craning her neck to look at Coley’s boyfriend with her son. 

“I really appreciate your guys’ help.” Sherri informs Coley, her hair piled on top of her head in a bun that she hasn’t refixed in a day, her face showing exhaustion and her eyes darker with subtle bags under them. 

“It’s not a problem, Sis.” Coley assures her. “At least this dinner turned out better than the last one.” She adds, and Sherri scoffs. 

“Yeah, that burnt lasagna…” 

“I tried.” Coley shrugs, and her sister smiles at her. 

“You did. That’s all that mattered,” She agrees, sniffling, before rubbing her lips together nervously, not quite sure how to branch this conversation into what she really wants to discuss. “...I, um, I talked to mom this morning…” 

Coley’s lungs expand with her deep breath, her teeth biting into her tongue as Sherri continues. 

“She seemed pretty upset.” 

“I don’t care,” Coley shakes her head, looking at her older sister. 

“She didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, Coley—”

“--Okay, her dragging my boyfriend through the mud no longer hurts my feelings. It just outright pisses me off, and I’m really not in the mood to talk about it, yet.”

She says it a bit louder than intended, pulling Jake’s attention from the five year old he’s quietly coaching. 

“She just wants what’s best for you, and somehow has it in her head that maybe he’s not.” Sherri states. “I don’t agree with her at all, but it’s mom, Coley. I don’t like when you guys—”

“—I said I’m done talking about it, Sherri.” She states, cutting the sink off and drying her hands. 

“You’re staying here tonight so you don’t have to be at home with her.”

“Sherri, I said–” 

“--What happens when we all go off to Yankee Springs next weekend? You can’t just ignore that this is happening, Coley.” 

“Mom can think what she wants. I’m not wasting my time anymore trying to convince her when she’s already made up her mind. There’s no point. Fuck it. I’m done. Just drop it, Sher.”

Coley’s stepping to the fridge, grabbing a beer, and heading to the living room to sit with her boyfriend and nephew while her older sister decides it’s not worth getting into right now with Jake present. 

After Sherri feeds Collins, she places the tiny baby back in her bassinet in the living room and sighs, “Alright, Kayce, tell aunt Coley g’night.” 

He lets a disappointed breath out and Jake gently accepts the guitar from him before the boy is getting out of the floor and walking to his aunt with open arms. 

“Goodnight, dude, I love you.” Coley says, squeezing him tightly until he giggles and squeezes her back just as hard, her lips pressing to his hair before she’s releasing him. 

“I love you. Goodnight, aunt Coley. Goodnight, Jake.” He replies, his fist bumping into Jake’s in-passing. 

“Goodnight, man.” Jake says to him, waiting for him and Sherri to disappear from the doorway of the living room before looking at Coley. 

She notices him watching her, raising a brow as he takes a heavy swallow of his own beer and puts the bottle on the coffee table, hauling himself up to sit on the couch beside her. 

“What is it?” She inquires, and all he does is brush her hair from her face, his thumb returning to her cheek to rub at the smooth skin momentarily as his eyes flicker while staring at her. 

He’s not an idiot. 

He knows she and Tammy have been going back and forth ever since she and Jake started dating…well…ever since they graduated and Coley dropped out of college twice, and showed no interest in going back because she was convinced they didn’t need school when they’ll make it as a band. 

Her mom has blamed him for filling Coley’s head with baseless dreams, not knowing that Jake’s tried to get her to go back to school, to no avail—clearly. 

Jake can’t bring himself to press her about what happened this morning with her mother, instead he tells her the truth, hoping to cheer her up a little bit. 

“What?” She repeats, giggling nervously under his gaze. 

A smile spreads across his lips, growing wider until his teeth are showing. 

“What?” 

“I love you,” He finally says to her, watching her face and eyes light up when she hears the words. 

She leans into him, kissing his mouth chastely before quietly replying, “I love you, too, baby,” 

As always, the single show of affection multiplies into dozens until they’re both forgetting where they’re at, their hands roaming greedily, and their mouths moving together desperately. 

She’s soon on his lap, his hands under her t-shirt to run along the smooth skin of her back while her arms wrap around his neck, the both of them growing needier in their movements. 

Her mouth parts in a gasp when his hands grab at her hips and encourage her to grind against him, and his teeth gently nip at her bottom lip. 

Coley fights to hold back a whimper that stifles in her throat at the feeling of him moving between her legs, wanting to keep quiet from her sister…

Her attention soon snaps to the bassinet in the corner that holds the sleeping baby who appears to be laying a little too peacefully. 

“She’s breathing, right?” She asks, yanking Jake from his time wrapped up in the haze of her. 

“What?” He inquires, half-paying attention. 

He lets her go as she stumbles from his lap and pushes her hair from her face, heading to the bassinet to peer at her niece, who is breathing, after all. 

“Okay. She’s okay. Sorry.” She sighs, running a hand through her hair, settling beside Jake and curling into his side as the T.V. sends a soft glow through the room…

It’s now that Jake once again looks at her, something that doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” Coley more-so demands it, causing his eyes to immediately pull away from her. 

Jake licks his lips, keeping focused on the television as he tries to figure out what to say.

I’m sorry your mom hates you because of me?

I think you need to go back to school, maybe. 

What’s happening with you and your mom?

The last one doesn’t seem so bad. 

“What’s going on with you and your mom, Coley?” He asks her softly, but it’s stern enough. 

She pushes out a breath and shakes her head. 

“It’s nothing, Jake.” 

It didn’t seem like nothing when she got in his car and had clearly been crying when he picked her up to head to the studio…nor did it seem like nothing in the kitchen with Sherri a few minutes ago. 

“Am I getting between you and Tammy?” He doesn’t sugar coat the question. 

“Tammy is getting between me and Tammy.” She scoffs. “Mom’s being a dick right now—well, she’s been one for a couple years but she’s really being one here lately. I wouldn’t worry about it, though.” 

“I do worry about it because I don’t wanna cause anything between you two.”

“Jake, you haven’t.”

“What about the school thing?” 

“Well…I’ve decided she’s not actually upset about the school thing.”

He seems all the more confused by her words and she thickly swallows and exhales before starting, “It’s not the school thing. It’s the Holton thing.” 

“Ever since his mom told her that I cheated on him, mom’s been ornery about you,” She confesses, eliciting a heavy breath from him. 

His hand rubs at his forehead, silence taking over aside from the TV, and he licks his lips. 

“So…she thinks I’m a piece of shit who took my buddy’s girlfriend then fired him from our band?” 

“Apparently that’s what Holton made it out to be to his mom.”

“Fucking prick.” He mumbles, rolling his eyes.

He’s not the least bit surprised—knowing he’d somehow manage to victimize himself completely in the situation. 

No, Holton didn’t put Jake and Coley on blast the way they had braced themselves for when the break-up first ensued…but that doesn’t matter if somebody he cares about—such as his girlfriend’s mother—thinks badly of him. 

“It’s a sore spot for mom, I guess, because of dad cheating on her but…I mean, she did it, too. So she doesn’t have any room to judge either of us for it.” Coley rambles, pulling Jake’s brows to a furrow as he looks at his girlfriend. 

She realizes what she’s blurted out, and feels her eyes water and her throat grow tight. 

COLEY: My parents’ relationship wasn’t always the best. Right after I was born, they both struggled pretty bad…dad stepped out first, and mom followed. They seperated a few months after my first birthday, and when mom came up pregnant with Julianne, my dad really worked to get better and win her back. 

It obviously worked out but they both had wounds from that whole experience that they didn’t really heal from. I think that’s why my mom was so weird about everything that happened with me, Holton, and Jake. 

It was very frustrating. 

Jake listens as Coley unloads everything. 

Her dad cheating on her mom, her mom cheating on her dad instead of leaving him, the two of them finally separating—Tammy taking Sherri and Coley back to Vegas with her to stay with their grandmother, only for Tammy to find out weeks later that she was pregnant again…

He knew Tammy got pregnant with Sherri at seventeen after meeting her dad while he was on a trip with his older brother, and they decided to stay together…but he never would have thought, ever, that Tammy and Cole had such a rocky start the first few years. 

Not from the way they appear, now. 

“It doesn’t have anything to do with us, or even  you.” Coley tells him, at last, sniffling while he wipes tears from her cheek that have appeared through her sharing where all of this is coming from. “It’s just bullshit she hasn’t sorted through and is pinning it on other people, and I’m so embarrassed that she’s being like this because it’s not your fault.” 

Growing less offended as he comes to realize maybe it’s not as personal as he assumed it was, he still doesn’t quite know what to say. 

Instead of pretending to, he merely pulls her to his lap, his cheek resting against her forehead as his arms wrap around her.

“I love you.” Jake finally tells her. “And I’m not worried about what anybody thinks, so don’t let it get you this worked up, baby.” 

“I love you, too.” Coley sighs, closing her eyes and trying to calm down some before they lay down to hopefully get a little sleep before Collins wakes up. 

Early in the morning, after Coley and Jake fell out on the couch—Jake’s arm tightly secured around her waist with his face buried in her hair—an impatient cry sounds out at 4:00a.m., signaling it’s time for another bottle, and being that Jake got up with Collins at 1:00a.m., Coley takes her turn. 

After changing her diaper, silence befalls the house once again the moment Coley gets the bottle from its warmer and pops it in the baby’s mouth, hoping her older sister wasn’t disturbed from her sleep. 

Jake keeps his eyes closed despite being somewhat conscious, hearing Coley, very softly, very quietly, as she sings to the little baby in her arms…he immediately decides it’s one of his favorite things that she does, but he struggles to keep himself awake longer to bask in the beauty of it, her sweet voice lulling him back to sleep.

.

.

.

.

.

TAG LIST: @takenbythemadness , @edgingthedarkness , @zooweemama555 , @hollyco , @fleetingjake , @lizzys-sunflower

[plasticfangtastic]

American Royalty. Ch. 10

A Homelander X F! Reader/Dadlander fanfic.

A/N: sorry for the delay, I wrote another fic and that ate my time, hope y'all like the chapter, there's only 3 chapters left and the epilogue and now that kinktober its done I should be able to post the remaining chapters on time, if ya like to be on the taglist plz leave a comment with a request. prev. chapter here:

Tags: mild gore, angst, slow burn, fluff, oc characthers, child neglect, dadlander, romance, some spicy and murder.

Chapter Ten

Reconsidering

A lavish prison.

More rooms than ideas to fill them with– mere latrines for kisch. 

Floors that screamed ugly opulence, the kind that made you yearn for the simplicity of owning nothing, of forced minimalism... or tasteful decor.

When you cracked your neck to witness the enormity of the seven story mansion (not counting the cellar basement and the terrace) the price tag had frightened you to the core more than the height, making you feel more than inadequate in visitation, as you had come in jeans and an ironic t-shirt to accompany him (not that you had a choice)--  as Homelander pulled you around from floor to floor, forcing you to walk alongside him from beige rooms to white rooms, past rich dark wood doors. So heavy they hurt your wrist, you worried for your future.

These were the things you could only witness in pictures.

“I hate the carpet.” He said coyly, trying to stand close to you without frightening you.

Looking down at the rug you’ve taken your shoes off for-- it was luxurious, it was nice for the somewhat dark library, the smell of curated cedar and walnut genuinely intoxicating. From a second glance it matched his taste in your mind, but you guess he was a lot more finicky than he already was– perhaps it wasn’t soft enough for him, you thought.

“I'd rather we just have the floors bare– it’ll be easier to clean.”

“Concerned about the maids already?”

“Maids?”

“Honey, you don’t think I expect you to clean this thing by yourself?” He gave you a playful pat in the back– even with superspeed you’ll wear yourself out…”

The real estate agent who kept rubbernecking at your direction, raised his eyebrow as he saw how stiff you were next to your fiance.

Pressing yourself against the aged stone of the terrace fence, the city seemed so far away as you looked down from so high up, wondering if you could fall quick enough, if he would catch you right on time or make it easy for himself and play the tragic broken hearted hero. The cold breeze kissed your temples as you processed the jarring passage of time.

Kaleem, his wife Alessia and your co-worker Chrissie dropped what they were doing when you broke the news that you’ve gotten engaged, they’ve already gotten it from the breaking news report and online but actually hearing it out of your mouth cemented it, it wasn’t a lookalike sharing your name marrying Homelander! But you! Their hardworking and worn out cook. 

Who never once mentioned him before, who never described your baby daddy, who gave no hints… yet to them who thought were your friends–if not confidants, felt betrayed.

They were friends of yours but the fear of Homelander’s and Vought had been so great you never wanted to disclose who’s Helena’s father was to anybody, they had formed very strong opinions over the time they’ve known you but at the sight of half a dozen black suits entering their pizza shop– you probably would have never been able to tell them on your terms, anyways.

 You had no choice now but to divulge.

After having been made to lose a day’s work and being informed they would have to agree to some sketchy stuff regarding selling your situation to the public, you owed them an explanation– at least the financial compensation for their cooperation was generous.

Right now you were a stranger.

You told a version of your story, adding to what they already knew, like everybody else their image of Homelander was firmly cemented after 20 years of exposure to the bastard, it was hard to view ‘The Nation’s Favorite Dad’ was the one who threw you on the streets, nobody spoke much while you melted into the booth, your sight so far away, as the light’s buzz drilled into your brain.

“Is the dick at least good?” Chrissie slurped loudly on her coke– I mean go get your bag bitch, just don’t let him make you sign a prenup and when you get divorce take half his shit.”

“Slightly above mid… his mouth tho…” You did smile there.

“Is it little?” 

“I wish… shit hurts. Can’t sit straight afterwards... he's just so quick! Thank god his mouth isn't just good at speeches” You chuckle dryly.

Chrissie began spacing her fingers until you rolled your eyes in embarrassment, poor Kaleem sat in his corner pretending to be blind.

You both shared an ugly snorting laugh, cackling from the absurdity of the situation.

“You wouldn’t be the first woman to marry for benefits– trust me I seen a lot of ‘90 day fiance’ and my aunt Lucia’s been married to my uncle for 32 years– she met him a month before the wedding and only for the green card.”

“32 years?” That was dreadful.

Alessia was quite relaxed about the whole ordeal, if anything it was the most stimulating thing that had happened in recent years and seeing a six-year- old tutor her teenage son was exhilarating.

“She said he has a big dick and uncle works the night shift… works great for her– pretty sure 2 of their 7 kids are his” 

“Is this the aunt Lucia that came and did our light fixtures? I feel sorry for your uncle.” Chrissie said.

“Yes– she's happy, and don’t be… Uncle Frank may have a whole other family in Mexico, but that’s a whole other business.” She said loudly– look you had it rought, and fuck him. I thought killing the dude at that rally was a bit much, but dumping you in the streets– way worse than murder! Look, we got three kids and if this dumbass died on me– I don’t know how I would cope and if some hot rich asshole asked me to marry him… I might ‘cuz college ain't cheap.” You could laugh, watching Kaleem agreeing he would do the same if she died– Homelander is cute and has money. You said it yourself– you don’t have to love him. He’ll meet somebody else and end it, but Helena it’s your main priority here not him, and I mean after everything you’ve been thru you deserve to cruise thru life.``

“I don’t think John is going to let me fuck around…” You groaned, resting your head on your forearm as you sunk deeper– I don’t have to be happy, right?”

“It’s overrated.” Chrissie said– Helena would probably finish college by 12, and that if she takes her time.”

“Thank you guys for encouraging me in my new ‘Sugar Baby’ journey– I always knew I had it in me to be an amazing hoe.”

It wasn’t what you wanted to hear… to them who just like you had to break their backs to keep the roof over their heads, it was an enviable golden opportunity and in this economy one couldn’t really afford to miss out on such opportunities… 

“Just pretend you like him if he’s ever around, I guess.” you mention.

“It’s gonna be hard ‘cuz I like Noir more.” Chrissie says leaning across the table to pat your shoulders.

So here you were admiring the Upper East Side, in the nicest street, in a coveted building that he had every desire in the world to make you ‘Lady of the House’, it was beyond extravagant it even had an elevator… so there was some appeal.

Ashley followed him like a lap dog as he listed a billion much needed remodeling decisions to bring back the home into the office spaces by force, in case he decided to purchase the edifice.

“So you like it? This is the fifth house we’ve seen… you said you wanted a yard and space.”

“Needs more plants… is a great location…” you said softly, still looking down, pretending to not notice Ashley was writing that down too.

“But do you love it?” he pressed rubbing your shoulders– we can still get the penthouse… even if it's only four bedrooms but great open concept! Or the condo right in front of Central park– but that one is only 3 bedrooms which might tamper with our plans… although the one in 63 street, classy and it has a cinema.” 

He kissed your forehead, after speaking quickly.

“Do you love it?” You asked, fixing his hair once he got too close to you– this will be your home too.”

“Is pre-war” He whines playfully– is so pretty… the brownstone… the history…” He gives you the most pathetic attempt of ‘puppy eyes’ you’ve ever seen, a smile creeps onto your face without permission which he takes graciously– I can see us here.”

“You’re not hanging a giant american flag anywhere in this house!”

“A small one?” He pouts.

“In your office… and it better be small, John.” You rested your head on his chest– The kitchen… is awful.”

He was touchy, your skin numb to his touch at this point, he wanted to kiss you and hold you until you cherished him, but he wouldn’t force it. 

You just had to keep smiling and thwart most of his approaches, but you know if you gave him just enough affection he would be unable to notice the wicked game you were playing– forcing him to move at your dictated pace, to keep him on his toes yearning that you would turn and pamper him, never knowing if his affections were welcomed or not, but knowing you gave yours to him and he welcomed it.

You could see Ryan and Helena growing up happy, and safe. 

You and those two children sitting by the fireplace, enjoying hot chocolate and opening Christmas presents.

You would in fact not choose this house just to spite the man, who had fallen in love with his grand vision– not that the chosen house was worse, just one floor shorter, just as massive as the other and still in a great location… so Homelander didn’t complain too much… just a little.

The boxes increased but there was still so much to fill up, even with his stuff it wasn’t enough to fill the gaps… he would not spare you from the American flags, tragically as it sounds. 

At least it was framed and matched the decor of the gallery and dining room. As you unpacked and watched the movers bring the beds while the kids argued about who kept which floor– Helena demanded the fourth floor already making executive decision to turn the empty rooms into labs and  offices for her future endeavors, while Ryan wanted to be normal child and stay in the same floor as his sibling, ultimately pushed to the fifth floor after multiple rounds of rock-paper-scissors, and a paternal mediator who said they had to settled it with another round of games which sadly Ryan lost.

After a laborious day, you two just sheepishly laughed as you stared at your bedroom, both leaning against each other as you laughed, staring at the wooden cross dividing the two beds and matching nightstands– all so very circa 50’s catholic chic. 

You two just laughed about how absurd this was in execution, a part of you wished to just put the beds together instead of making your great-grandmother proud.

“Y’know we could’ve fit two kings in here…” He said while staring at the space.

“I thought you wanted me close-by.”

“Double’s were the perfect choice.” He replied quickly.

It took weeks before you reached a boiling point with your live-in situation, to see him walk around your home in that stupid suit, his mind longing for the familiarity of his abandoned penthouse was frustrating, he himself didn't expect to miss it either– He felt like a guest that refused to leave instead of your fake fiancee, this wasn’t him staying overnight at your previous domicile levels of awkward, that had been a challenge on its own, even if now you skipped the pillow walls and sleeping on the floor… God knows how many times he picked your unconscious self up from the ground and laid you to bed, while he sat next to you reading a book in the dark– this was an alien living in your house calling himself the owner. 

Before you knew it your heart stung as you dragged the two kids to the nearest Target to bulk buy the man some loungewear, both from exasperation and as request from his son who mentioned he didn’t really own much clothes, and what little he did own he didn't feel like washing every 2 days just to chill around the house... and as his future wife you gave yourself automatic permission to buy him clothes… just anything that would get him out of that suit.

Ryan had never been to many stores before, much less a Target, it hurt a tad to see him fascinated by the colorful aisles and the abundance of people…knowing he had grown in a compound, the mother in you just wanted to squeeze him and apologies for it all, but you instead just squeezed the handle bars and let him pick snacks that caught his fancy.

It was hilarious that you would find yourself doing this again– back then buying for him had been difficult, he wore very little but he liked your input, he simply wore what you told him, but after so long you had no idea what he liked anymore– this wasn’t food… this wasn’t easy… so the plainest sets were your best bet.

There was something fresh about this, as you perused the aisles with the kids in tow, thinking of buying him some jeans and clean button ups, Ryan picking up colorful socks while Helena opted to pick him a shirt just to fit in.

You had fun, you looked forward to sprousing his wardrobe, watching this scene play out made you feel as if you were normal, until somebody took your photo at the checkout in your least flattering angle.

It took another week before he opened up to being undressed and exposed in cheap pajama pants and white t-shirts, it would take three weeks for him to do so without being told to– plus enough complaints about people trying to photograph them after seeing the Homelander lounge in the terrace, served as added motivation.

You told yourself it wasn’t too bad to cohabitate, as you saw him slowly get more and more comfortable in his new environment, as you watched him become softer with your kids, as you found yourself having pleasant breakfasts, found yourself being welcomed home and conversed over coffee about your day or his day– not even bringing up his concerns about you still choosing to work in Lucci when you could do so much better too often, giving up on teasing you with buying you a restaurant, or upcoming publicity stunts when you weren’t in the mood to listen to the drivel.

Staring down from the roof garden looking at the brownstone buildings around and the pale light, pleased by the subtle fragrance of flowers behind you, he seemed so normal as you watched him from across the coffee table.

He kept sipping on his latte looking miffed before turning around and asked about why Elmo had been staying over for the last 3 days, to which you reminded him he sent his dads to sort some business in Singapore.

“Does he have no other family?” He thought of Singapore– it was quite urgent… they decided to fuck us up.”

“You and them booked them for acting classes plus they have their first suit fittings tomorrow… easier for them to leave Elmo here and have us take care of that– they’re a team-up. They should be close.”

“I know! But why does he have to sleep here? He’s a boy.” He seemed concerned.

“‘Cuz we got the space…?”

“It doesn’t seem appropriate.”

“Oh you freak.”

 He was still stiff around the edges but you could bear with it, as you saw him and Helena bond you knew your daughter was handling him well– your target was Ryan now. 

You asked him to help you around the kitchen more, taking your time to teach him without pressure, scolding his father when he acted like it was undignified of him to help around the kitchen and forced him to eat whatever he'd made, making him feel proud when he took charge of dinner even if it was slightly too salty at times and his impenetrable skin resulted in chipped knives… 

 You helped him make those cute films and took him out to the cinema, buying him books on the subject, encouraging him to join art clubs, to try as many extracurriculars he was interested in and to ignore his father as he pushed Ryan to join sport related clubs, when all he wanted was to make dioramas with his new found friends, instead. 

Homelander didn’t have any issues with Helena for her selections were sparse, just the chess club, and some science club she was quickly losing interest in… if anything he was being pushy about piano– and god knows how he managed to bring that piano to the fifth floor without breaking anything.

Is not as if she was already taking too much in-between physics, science and math classes… and working casually at Vought, but he didn’t seem to care. Helena assured you she could handle it, telling you to focus on your tasks without worry and you listened.

Ryan liked your support, it helped you get closer as you allowed his friends to enter the house for his little projects, he liked when you twisted his father’s ear to let him be just in case he began to disapprove, he began to trust you.

Helena wasted her afternoons in the office between daycare, superhero training and shadowing her father or Ashley, reading his meeting notes, writing them for him, or as he called it assisting him, learning about the company and the labs from her privileged position– the whispers of curious passerby wondered why Homerlander would keep his daughter so close, it had taken the building by surprise to learn that this little girl had been his child all along even if rumors had spread prior… but the once cute anomaly began to gain a insidious reputation in the underbelly of this company, something that made them more uneasy than just her strange demeanor from before.

“What’s that on your dress?” You noticed a brown stain on the hem of her dress.

“Iodine.” She said while taking her clothes off, Homelander said nothing as he picked after her.

Homelander gave you a stiff smile as he scrunched the clothes into a ball before your kid ran up towards the bathroom, mentioning she’s a tad clumsy with the equipment as he walked past you.

You didn’t need to know that the duet had some quality father-daughter time to the misfortune of some lab rat.

He stared at the chunky bloodstain sliding down the wall.

“I can explain.” She panted, staring at her work as her eyes spun around the room.

“It’s pretty obvious what happened, no?” He said stepping on top of the unidentified– "I'll have somebody come clean it up, darling.”

“You’re not mad?” She asked, genuinely nervous, fidgeting with her fingers as her head throbbed.

“Why did you kill him?” He stared at the smashed patty with curiosity.

“He resisted termination… forcing me to defend myself… he took my assistant.”

Homelander looked at the other corpse and its mangled remains, spilling around her boots.

“Why?” He spoke with a boor.

“Self-defense.”

“You took your time doing it… you could have cut his oxygen supply and killed him in a few minutes, instead you” He kicked a shattered bone– made it agonizing.”

“Tch… if he attacked me I would’ve lost control of the bubble…” She gasped lightly trying to kill the headache inside her– the math… the math makes sense. My formulas make sense. But it's them… these samples aren’t fit, they aren’t meant to be like us. They are worthless!”

She leans towards the wall, smacking her forehead against the wall full force, Homelander jumps on his heel but doesn’t reach her as she mutters incoherent curses under her breath, his hand stop just inches from her.

 “This one wasn’t too bad… I thought I cracked it but then I noticed…” Helena was pensive looking at images he wasn’t privy to, as she spoke with a light airy voice as her lungs emptied for her to speak once more— I cull it.”

She squatted picking up a loose tooth from the ground, examining the perfectly structured canine, for the first time Homelander felt uneasy about her.

“Is not often that I feel…”

Homelander raised a curious eyebrow, taking a step closer towards her, Helena tilted her neck to look at him, her sight so detached it didn’t seem possible for a child to make such an expression.

“Excited. The simulations always succeed but the human variant poses an interesting angle I hadn’t previously considered… truly successful adult specimens… V24 almost recreated the perfected serum but with nasty side-effects… programming the serum is obtainable but adult humans continue to reject it or somehow create variants as if the host alters the code live”  She flicks the tooth– Is like Frederick left me a puzzle.”

“So are these just pieces” He waved his fingers nonchalantly at the messy remains.

She scoffed standing up and patting her knees clean.

“You know why I play piano?”

He shook his head.

“Because in order to be good at it… you have to foster talent… but no amount of practice can’t beat those blessed with a gift… supposedly. So I have to solve his puzzle because I cannot believe that that coward was blessed more than me.”

“You think Vought has beef with you? So what will you do with all your failures? Murder them?”

“Is it murder to cull a deformed goldfish? No… that’s just mercy.” She stands up fixing her hair– It’s not beef. Is a challenge he left us with.”

His smile is so wide his skin creaks as it stretches. 

He picked her up to plant a kiss on her chubby cheek.

“You’re such a messy child.” He kissed her again– you got your pretty dress dirty.”

“Sorry.” She moped– sorry about all of it… you must think I'm a hack.”

“Is okay princess… daddy will just buy you a new one… and a new dress.”

You didn’t question the stains on her dress, god knew what sort of chemicals and stuff she had to play with, and how much of it wasn’t built for the size of her hands.

The more you saw him return to that man you once loved, you felt down the spiral of considering giving him a second chance– Helena was happy, she was smiling, she was playful, your quiet daughter had blossomed under your mutual care, seeing him domesticated, seeing him interact with genuine joy with her had began to melt your heart. It didn’t help that he look so delectable in compression shirts, as he came back with the kids without a sweat on his brow, Ryan just as dry with nothing more than messy hair and then your daughter dropping to the ground half-dead from the walk… what you had stared at mostly had been his ass in those black tights.

“Honey it was only 20 miles.” He sounded a bit frustrated– gotta get her fit otherwise she will get outperformed.” He turned to you sounding a tad aggressive– she’s my daughter she should be able to handle it just like me and Ryan.”

“Mommy!” she cried.

“Most humans can’t even do twenty!”

You picked her up, not caring she was covered in sticky sweat but as you draped your child over your shoulder kissing her head as she whined, you caught an improper glimpse at him, no doubt he caught a couple looks from passersby on his way here– even by this city standards he was wearing too little.

“Go change…” You said with a light blush on your neck– don’t be a dick to her, she wasn’t born a copy of you.”

He pestered Helena for the rest of the evening, giving up once she barricaded herself in her bedroom.

“Spending all her time inside books is not gonna do her any good… she needs exercise.”

“I think you got the kids mixed up, dear.”

He moped in the living room pursing his lips, one sentence away from crossing his arms and whining like a child.

“Look I think it’s great that you want to train her but… she’s not like you. I would love for her to have inherited some of your physical skills– it's just not gonna happen.”

“I know. I don’t know why she’s so different from me… yet she has to get better…” His sight lingered on the roof– You think she’ll move her dresser out the way.”

“She’ll move it when she wants to– and don’t think about getting in there thru her window!” He almost complains but chooses to stay quiet scooting closer to you on the couch– What?”

“You seem mad…”

“You harassed our kid all day and made her upset… but I was mad before it...I made the mistake of googling myself after somebody at work made mention–  have you seen the shit that people are saying ‘bout me online ‘cuz of you.”

Homelander shook his head lightly.

“I only google myself.”

“People are saying nasty shit. Hurtful shit… saw my mom getting interviewed… that was nice… she certainly made me feel like shit.”

“Want me to kill her?” Homelander spoke in such a bored tone, his head finding his way on your lap with the smoothness of a cat, unconsciously your hand took to his hair– Or something else?”

You stared at him and considered it, your mom sort of had it coming if she was going to paint herself a saint for her 15 minutes of fame.

“Don’t kill my mom, John. I just don’t want people saying I’m a bad mother because my kid went to a “shit public school” in the projects.” you said annoyed.

“I’ll see if Vought can write you a fluff piece.”

You believed him, choosing to put your anxieties away as he nuzzled into your stomach and let you watch TV without care as long as your hands kept pampering him making little commentary as you watched true crime videos.

Rolling in your bed you turned to see his back on the bed beside you, you signed readying to play dirty, your body awoken to something sickening.

“I know you ain’t asleep, John.”

His ears perked, he turned to see your silhouette in the dark.

“I can’t sleep.” You whispered– mmm…so” you signed lightly– can you get your dick up?”

His ears perked up, lifting himself by his elbows as he adjusted to face your darkened silhouette, your cheeks reddened, mildly embarrassed, your mind wandered back to the sight of his clothes, to the tussling of his hair and the glint in his eyes as of late… and of that last sudden night of intimacy.

“Oh. O-okay… might need some stimulation is not like I got a crank down there.” he faked being annoyed by your request.

“I stopped taking the pill…” His piercing eyes illuminated the room for a brief second just to catch a sly smile ‘bout to fade away off your face– so you wanna put the mommy in MILF or not?”

He tripped out of the bed to jump into yours, clawing his way back towards you, as the little voice in his head blared sirens.

Latching on your neck, ripping your clothes open as you tried not to chuckle at his messy desperation to fuck you, you closed your eyes and thought of nothing but the hundred different pleasurable sensations prickling you– it had been so long… your body sensitive, writhing over his hungry touch, wherever his hands and his lips got to taste you felt it twice as strong.

Whatever he was imagining in his head was happening none of it was relevant– this was simply a mutually beneficial exchange. Nothing but lust, it had to be lust because you didn’t see Homelander underneath you, as you rode him, as he let you fucked him just as hard as he wanted to fuck you– you saw the John that he had killed so many years ago... but somehow you didn't hate the sight.

He wanted to devour you, he was needy and pent-up and you took it all graciously, for one night you two used each other equally.

Finding himself delighted and more aroused at the squeals and mewls coming from your delicious lips just as much as you enjoyed the moans and guttural grunts that came from him as he cried against your chest, crying for your kisses and directions, liking the way he craved your scent once again.

You were better than his molasses drenched memories.

Homelander teeth gilded over your neck, the thought of him ripping and gnawing on your flesh lingered as he brought you to an orgasm. 

To be so close to death as you touched heaven… you heaved, melting into the mattress letting him lumber atop of you, too delighted with the end result to complain… looking down to find him kissing your chest, whispering sweet grunts as your hand pampered his hair, you tried not to smile at that satiated goofy expression on his face, at the flickering light illuminating your skin as he purred around your touch.

He was so easy to win over… it scared you.

My Taglist-- @demodemo909 @immyowndefender @fromforeigntofamiliarity @ghqstfqce

[transformers-mosaic]

Transformers: Mosaic #557 - "Loyalty Rewarded"

Originally posted on November 15th, 2010

Story - Zac DeBoard Art - Kei Tomoe Letters - Franco Villa Edits - Juan Pablo Osorio “Chopper” design - Andy Short Whirl design - Paul Vromen

deviantART | Seibertron | TFW2005 | BotTalk

Later revised and annotated for Transformers: The Lost Seasons

wada sez: The last of three Sunbow-version-of-Animated-character strips. On the Machine Wars Starscream color scheme used for Scrash, DeBoard said on Seibertron: “I believe Scrash's coloring was a way to differentiate between he and Skyquake (even though they were pretty much consdered to be the same character), as well as being a shout out to MW Screamer.” Onslaught’s seeming death here appears to be an choice, as he’s alive and well later in the Sunbow timeline—but Cattleprod points out that the Combaticons first appeared reduced to personality components after a failed coup, so presumably this is intended to lead into that, with Onslaught just heavily damaged but alive. The blue character is an OC based on the Diaclone helicopter who, in later official sources, would variously be given the names "Fumes", "Rotorbolt", and "Skyklik"—the creators of The Lost Seasons apparently used a common fan-name at the time, "Chopper". I've tagged him as Rotorbolt, because of the Wreckers connection. On the strip’s ending, DeBoard said: “Personally, I love ol Luggy and I just assume that while his body may have been destoyed, his spark survived....like they put it in a machine like they have a Garrus 9 or something.” He explained the strip’s plotting as follows: “Again, this is just "in my head" but Megs was probably obsessed with The Autobots on The Ark (at least for the moment) and didnt bother to take attendance, so to speak, and therefore didn't notice Lugnut. Another thing to keep in mind is...we were kinna working within a set continuity and trying to fit stories and characters where we can. Obviously Lugnut wasnt in G1 originally so it's a tricky thing to do. I just kinna thought it was a pretty neat way to introduce him and explain his "absence" from the show. Believe me, I try to take all of this stuff into account when I write, but if I overthink it, I'd never get anything written! Hehe. As for the faces of the "transplanted characters. It seems to be harder to translate the facial features of the TFA bots into a G1 style (for instance, I felt Lockdown's face in the Drift mini was just horrific), but I think Lugnut came out very well in this. [...] We are floating around some more stories featuring G1 Lugnut so hopefully he will be fleshed out more in later stories. Personally, I hope to bring his personality closer to the fanatic he was in TFA, which is what made him one of my favorite characters. With the space limitations of the Mosaic, we really didn't get to do a lot of it (though it was more prevalant in the script).” This strip evolved from an earlier script of DeBoard's, which went unused: “Unfortunately, I realized there was already a Mosaic piece essentially telling this same story. This one however was set in the G1 universe”—I’ve reproduced the full text below, alongside the usual Italian translation. The earlier strip with a similar idea was “False Saviour”, in case you were wondering.

Before I was little more than a thug.  Making a living by robbing those less fortunate than me.  Feeling I was destined for a greater purpose, I had applied numerous times to the Cybertron Military Academy only due be denied due to what the Head of the Academy deemed was an aggressive attitude.

This would haunt me in my future endeavors as I could find little work.

Eventually I found the Arena.

It was there than I unleashed my aggression and anger, my strength was unparalelled and I became known as the Kaon Crusher.

And, as quickly as I embraced my newfound outlet, I soon found myself longing for more.

Was this all I was meant for?  Mindlessly destroying mechs for little more than a thrill?

Blastburn lies defeated at my feet and I feel nothing.  I walk away, feeling just as beaten as my foe.

"Your designation Lugnut?"

I nod.

"It is."

"My commander has had an optic on you for over a Vorn.  He has seen your indifference and longing."

"What do you or your commander know of me?!"

"He believes he can provide you with a sense of purpose--a new life, if you will."

The blue mech (Soundwave) has my attention.

"And what do you call your glorious leader" I say to him mockingly.

"His name is...Megatron."

At the end would be a close up of Lugnut's single red optic, with an image or a shadow of G1 Megs in it.

[purplefangirl42]

Who We Were (Part 7)

Series Summary: Silco has returned to take over Vander’s position as leader of the Undercity, only to find himself facing a new challenge. The woman that had once been devoted to him wants nothing to do with him. Can he convince her or have things changed too much in his absence?

Pairings: Post Act 1 Silco/OC (Olillia), Implied past Sevika/OC, Young Silco/OC

Parts: Series Masterlist || Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

Warnings/Tags: Slight angst

A/N: Long time no update for this story, which I hope won't happen again. Thank you to anyone that's still around and reading. There have been a few extra things written for this story so check out the masterlist for those. Big thank you to @silcoitus for beta-reading for me!

Sevika let the door of the bar slam shut behind her, pulling her coat over her broad shoulders as she walked out into the chilly night. She shuddered as a gust of wind blew past her, pulling the front of the coat shut to block it out. An unlit cigarette rested between her lips and she attempted to find her lighter within the pockets of the coat as she began her trek home.

She was more than ready for Spring, wanting this awful cold to go away. She could deal with rain and mud as long as the wind was no longer around. When she finally got the lighter out of her pocket and the end of her cigarette was glowing hot, she ducked her head against the wind, keeping close to the wall of the alley she was walking down.

If she had gone home when she had originally planned, it probably wouldn’t have been as cold, but she had been waiting for Lil to finish her shift at the Last Drop so they could walk together. Just as Sevika was getting ready to leave, Lil had told her that she was going to be staying later and to head home without her. When Sevika had asked her why, the explanation had made her roll her eyes.

One of the kids was sick. Probably the little blue-haired brat that Lil was so attached to. Vander had asked Lil to watch over her while he worked the later shift at the bar. He seemed to always be asking her to do things that were outside her job parameters, at least that was what it felt like to Sevika. If he didn’t have time to take care of the kids, he shouldn’t have taken them in. It wasn’t right to pawn them off on someone else.

Sevika shook her head in annoyance and tried to clear the thoughts from her head. She knew Lil cared about the kids and just wanted to help out, that’s just who she was. It wasn’t something that was going to change anytime soon, no matter how much it annoyed those that wanted to spend time with her.

As she neared her apartment, Sevika felt a prickle on her skin, as if someone was watching her. She paused a block away and looked around, eyes shifting from corner to corner, looking for anything suspicious. A dark shadowy form leaned against the wall of an alley alongside her apartment building, someone lurking just outside the lit area where she’d be able to see them.

“Whoever you are, quit being such a damn creep,” she called out. “If you’ve got something to say to me, come out and say it. Don’t lurk in the shadows and stare at me.”

The figure pushed off from the wall and slowly stalked out of the alley in her direction, their steps deliberate like a predator. A street light on the corner shone a beam of light down onto the sidewalk and the figure stepped into it, revealing a lean man dressed in brown and red. A large scar covered the left side of his face, surrounding a malformed eye that almost seemed to be glowing. Despite his startling change in appearance, Sevika recognized the man beneath the damage.

“Silco?” she said softly. “It can’t be, you’re dead.”

“So I’ve been told,” Silco responded. “Yet, here I stand.”

Sevika blinked rapidly a few times and shook her head in an attempt to clear her vision in case she was seeing things. She had had a few drinks at the bar, but not enough to make her start seeing and hearing dead people.

“I assure you that I am really here,” Silco said. “You aren’t hallucinating.”

Sevika stared at him with her mouth hanging open, the last bit of her cigarette falling to the ground. He really did seem to be standing before her, there was no denying it.

“How? Why?” she asked, not really forming whole questions. “Where the hell have you been all these years?”

“Perhaps we can talk somewhere more private?” Silco suggested. “My survival is not well-known and I prefer to keep it that way for the moment.”

Sevika nodded in the direction of her apartment and he followed her across the street to the front door of the building. When the two of them were securely inside, she turned to face him again, trying to keep the anger building inside her from erupting.

“So you’re alive,” she said. “And you’ve been doing what? Hiding?”

“Not exactly. I’ve been building up my forces and planning for the future. I also had some healing to do,” he said, gesturing to his scarred face. “Attempted drowning in a toxic river has some damaging effects on a person.”

“Attempted?” Sevika said. “From what Vander said, it sounded pretty successful. As far as any of us knew, you were dead. It had some serious effects on some.”

“Is that so?” Silco asked. “How is Olillia? From what I’ve gathered, she still works at the bar as if nothing had ever happened. I also am aware of the fact that the two of you had some kind of situation going on for a while.”

“Have you been spying on me?” Sevika asked, narrowing her eyes at him. “Have you been spying on her? Rather than just coming to her and telling her that you’re still alive?”

“Why would she care? She seems to have moved on.”

Sevika could hear a tinge of anger and betrayal beneath his words, as if he was hurt by the idea of Lil having a life beyond grieving his loss. She could feel her own anger bubbling up again, indignation at the insult he was implying towards her friend.

“If you think she’s moved on completely, that she ever forgot you, then you are more stupid than I took you for,” Sevika sneered at him. “You never seemed to understand how much you meant to her, and I don’t think you ever will.”

Silco seemed surprised by her reaction and she could see his expression falter for a moment before he refocused and returned to his previous image. 

“You care about her a great deal still? Despite your failed attempt at a relationship?” he asked.

“Of course I do,” Sevika spat. “She’s my friend. I care about her much more than you ever did.”

She could see the corner of his mouth twitch and anger flashed in the eye that was undamaged. Silco turned away from her and walked over to the window in her living room, staring out into the night. Sevika could see tension in his shoulders for a moment before they settled back into a more relaxed state.

“Don’t be so sure,” he said quietly. 

Sevika stared blankly at his back for a short time before speaking again.

“What did you come here for, Silco?” she asked. “I highly doubt you came here to talk about Lil.”

“No, I didn’t come here about that. I sense that things are tense in the Underground. The Hound is not running it as efficiently as he should and things are slipping through the cracks.”

Silco turned away from the window to face her again, linking his hands behind his back and stepping towards her. 

“I don’t imagine that is something that you agree with,” he said. “You want things to be different. You don’t like how Vander does things and you want to see some change.”

Sevika narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously. She didn’t know how he could know things that she had only thought to herself. He was hitting everything right on the head; she did want change and didn’t think Vander was doing what he should as the de-facto leader of the Undercity.

“Maybe you’re right,” she said. “But what does that have to do with you? You planning on overthrowing him and doing things your way?”

Silco didn’t answer her, the question hanging in the air between them. His silence was all the answer she needed, however. He was planning on doing exactly that. While she didn’t agree with the way Vander did things, Sevika was sure a coup was the way to deal with the problem. She also wasn’t sure Silco was a good replacement. Out of the two of them, she had always liked Vander more and thought he was better at getting others to follow him. She had to admit that Silco had a stronger revolutionary spirit though, and would probably do what was necessary to better the future of Zaun.

“I didn’t come here to recruit you to my side quite yet,” Silco said. “I only wanted to place the idea in your mind that you have an alternate option if you desire it.”

“I’ll have to think about it,” Sevika said. “I’m not sure I want to throw my lot in with you and ruin what good I do have in my life.”

“I would like to have you at my side when I bring about the change I see for our future,” Silco said. “You’ve always had that fighting spirit in you that I admired.”

Sevika scoffed at the idea that he admired her in the way she had been just thinking about him. The two of them had never really been close, and there had been some tension between them in the past. Most of which had to do with Lil. She knew that was something that couldn’t continue if they wanted to work together in the future.

“No matter what happens,” she said. “I will never abandon Lil. If you want me, she comes, too.”

A small smile lifted the corner of Silco’s mouth at her words.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

When Sevika had seen Lil walk into the Last Drop, she hadn’t believed her eyes. She watched silently as Ran led her across the bar to take her up to Silco’s office. It had been a while since she had disappeared and Sevika was very curious as to what was going on. Now, she could see Lil descending the stairs, her gaze focused on Sevika.

“I’m surprised you showed up,” Sevika said. “After how you reacted, I didn’t think there was any chance in hell that you’d walk back through those doors.”

Lil crossed her arms over her chest and stared at her.

“At first I wasn’t going to,” she said. “And I have every right to never speak to either of you again if I felt that was the correct thing to do.”

Sevika felt the guilt that had been gnawing away at her for months reforming in her stomach. She had hated hiding the truth from Lil, but Silco had said it was necessary. She honestly wouldn’t blame her if she didn’t speak to her again.

“What made you change your mind?” she asked.

“Powder. I want to make sure she’s safe,” Lil said. “Also, I need money and wasn’t having much luck finding work anywhere else.”

Sevika rolled her eyes at the mention of the kid. Of course, Lil would stick around for the brat like she always had. It was not ideal that Silco was keeping the girl here, but if it meant Lil would stick around, then she could find a way to deal with it. Maybe it would give them a chance to fix things between them.

“Hey, are we gonna be okay?” she asked. “I know you’re pissed at me, and I don’t blame you.”

“You lied to me, Sevika. How am I supposed to trust you when you would hide something like this from me? I’m not surprised about Silco’s behavior, but I am about yours.”

“I know I messed things up, and I’m sorry,” Sevika said. “I promise that you can trust me.”

“I’m going to need some time before that can happen,” Lil said. “But since we’re going to be working together, we can have a truce for now.”

Sevika nodded and glanced down at the floor, not wanting to look at Lil’s hurt expression anymore.

“How are you feeling?” Lil asked. “What’s going to happen with your arm?”

“It has to finish healing and then I’m going to get a mechanical replacement,” Sevika said. “Silco felt it was the least he could do since I lost it protecting him. Supposedly, it’s going to be some high-tech thing that will be better than I could hope to get on my own.”

“Well, I hope you aren’t in too much pain,” Lil said before stepping forward and resting a hand on Sevika’s good shoulder. “No matter how hurt I am, I still care about you.”

Sevika looked up and met Lil’s gaze, seeing the love displayed there. It seemed that she still had some hope for a chance to repair things in the future, and she would take whatever chance she got to fix her mistakes.

“I’ll be back tomorrow,” Lil said, removing her hand from Sevika’s shoulder. “See you later.”

As she walked away, Sevika thought she should say something and take the first step to help her friend. She called out to Lil, causing her to stop and turn back to face her.

“Please be careful,” she said.

Judging by Lil’s expression, she knew she didn’t need to elaborate. Lil gave her a small smile in return before leaving the bar. As she watched her leave, Sevika felt a pit begin to form in her stomach. She hoped that she hadn’t led her friend into danger by her actions. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to live with herself if she had.

The days following his conversation with Olillia had been interesting for Silco. Though he spent most of his time in his office, he still saw her from time to time when he did leave the room. As there wasn’t much for her to do until the construction was complete, she spent a lot of her time with Powder on the premises. Silco wasn’t sure what they did during their time together, but he was glad that someone was keeping the child occupied.

When he had decided to take the girl in, he hadn’t really thought through what he was going to do with her. He had no experience in caring for children and he certainly didn’t have time to do so with trying to get his operation off the ground and solidify his leadership of the Undercity. Still, he made sure to check in on her from time to time to reassure her that he was still around if she really needed him. He didn’t want her to feel abandoned, not when she was so vulnerable.

There had been a few nights where he had been woken by her screams from down the hall, no doubt caused by nightmares of the night they met. Part of him wished that Olillia was here full-time to help in those situations, but as it was, he had to deal with them himself. Powder was slowly beginning to trust him and allow him to offer her comfort for her nightmares, which was a step in the right direction in his eyes. He wanted her to feel safe, and for that, she needed to trust him.

Olillia had told him that Powder had a few things to work through that she would need to do on her own, things that neither of them could help her with. Silco wasn’t sure what those things could be, but he trusted that she knew best since she had known the child for much longer. She had assured him that Powder would come to him when the time was right.

When he heard the knock on his door one day and the child entered his office with Olillia in tow, Silco wondered if that time had come. The two of them approached his desk together, Olillia guiding the girl with her hand, an encouraging touch on her back. Silco set his pen down and focused all of his attention on the pair before him, patiently waiting for whatever they had to say.

With an encouraging gesture from Olillia, Powder stepped forward and placed something on his desk before stepping away again. Silco glanced down at the object and saw that it was the ashtray that had gone missing from his office a number of days ago. He had wondered what happened to it, but it had never crossed his mind to ask the girl about it. The formerly plain, gray tray was now covered in brightly colored doodles.

“I wanted to make it look nicer for you,” Powder said. “So you could have something nice, instead of just boring old gray.”

Silco picked up the ashtray and turned it in his hands, taking in every colorful swirl and pattern that she had added. He had never received something so personal and despite the child-like nature of the gift, he appreciated it.

“Thank you, Powder,” he said, placing it back down. “I will make sure it is put to good use.”

A shy smile appeared on the girl’s face and she looked up to Olillia, who nodded at her in response. When she looked back at Silco, she was biting her lip nervously.

“Was there something else?” he asked, prompting her to open up to him.

“Lil said that since things were changing, it would be a good time to think about who I want to be,” she said quietly.

Silco glanced up to Olillia and their gazes met briefly before she nodded back down to the child, instructing him to pay attention to what she had to say.

“I don’t think I want to be Powder anymore,” the girl said. “I want to be called something else.”

Silco sat back in his chair and folded his hands in his lap, focusing on the child before him. She seemed to have given this subject some thought, no doubt at Olillia’s suggestion. He thought back to their previous discussion about this and was glad that she had taken the initiative to bring it up to the girl so he wouldn’t have to.

“Do you have an idea for what you want to be called?” he asked.

The girl bit her lip again and reached up to pull on her braid anxiously. Olillia bent down to get closer to her and despite the fact that he couldn’t hear her, Silco figured she was offering the girl more words of encouragement. 

“I like…Jinx.”

“Jinx?”

The girl looked up and met his gaze, giving him a slight nod. She seemed sure of her choice, no matter how strange it may be. When Silco’s gaze shifted slightly to Olillia again, he could see a tinge of worry in her expression. It didn’t seem like she much approved of the name choice, but was respecting the girl’s decision when it came to her own identity. It only seemed right that he do the same.

“Jinx it is then.”

A/N: Hope you enjoyed this part! Please reblog, like, and comment! I would really like to hear your thoughts! If you would like to be added to the taglist, go here.

Tags: @findinghiddentruths, @photogirl894, @ariaud, @sherwood-forests, @insult-2-injury, @eurydicethesage, @mazikomo, @pinkrose1422, @crunchlite, @edlix

[chronicbeans]

Meet "Boss" (aka another Welcome Home OC from my stories/AU)

They have a lot more dark topics, so I'ma just put some trigger warnings in case. Most are only lightly touched on or hinted at, though some are more in-depth.

TW: Cult Recruitment/Activities, Manipulation, Brief Mention of Grooming through Media (with the purpose being to make individuals join a cult), Mysterious Disappearances, Narcissism/Narcissistic Behavior, Obsessive Behavior

👔Basic info, like the first one. He is a young man named William Dorelaine. He is the younger brother of Ronald Dorelaine, who first came up with the idea for Welcome Home alongside Caesar Jones. William took over as boss, in place of his brother, after just a few episodes. He did so because Ronald went missing under mysterious circumstances. He doesn't have a partner or kids, but people have noted how he complains about being single.

👔 If you couldn't already tell by the tags, William is a part of a cult. Specifically, a spiritual/religious based one. He actually works as a recruiter for his cult. When he took over as boss, he quickly got to work on changing the show up a little. He made it so that the whole dynamic between the characters was more like a cult, with the intention being to groom children into thinking that these behaviors are normal. Wally works as the cult leader, being at the center of the neighborhood both socially and physically. The neighbors represent other members of the cult and Home is meant to loosely represent a divine power, being the only living house in the neighborhood and having a tight bond with Wally. Everyone acts so nice and makes a tight bond with the viewer. It's meant to teach kids that, if a kind person (even a stranger) wants to talk to you or even ask you to join them in a fun, interesting group/community, it is okay to say yes! They will treat you well!

👔 William actually hates kids. Like, he actively hates kids. If he sees one on the street while walking somewhere with someone (probably a fellow cultist), he will turn to his friend and whisper something like "look at that snot-nosed brat... I'm glad our group doesn't allow kids. It's disgusting..."

👔 He can and WILL make you disappear. How do you think Ronald went missing? He has friends (cultists) who care very deeply about their group (cult), so he can just say you are a risk to their plans (ascension). Then... POOF! You're gone! No one knows what really happens to them besides William and his friends, but no one's been found, yet.

👔 William doesn't like anyone at the studio, really. He can pretend to like them VERY well, though. He can even pretend to be their friends, although, he will never see them that way. He only considers his fellow cult members friends. In fact, he feels closer to them than his own family. Caesar is the most annoying, though. He constantly questions him, but he also feels as though he can't just have him disappear. He is essential to the show, due to being the last remaining person from its conception. If he got rid of Caesar, there would probably be controversy. Then, controversy starts investigations. Then investigations could result in William being exposed.

👔 Not much is known about the cult William is a part of, but it is known that it has a lot to do with night and day cycles, as well as time in general. Drawings of Suns and Moons happen to litter the walls of the studio and Welcome Home never seems to openly show nighttime in any episode. Clocks seem very important, too, as his house and office are full of them. He claims to just collect them.

👔 He is a somatic narcissist, meaning that he specifically takes narcissistic pride in his appearance. He will spend hours obsessing over the smallest of things, from his hair to his skin, to make sure he looks perfect and better than everyone else. It is one of the reasons why he is so distraught over being a single man. In his eyes, people should be ADORING him left and right. He wants, no, NEEDS compliments about his everything. His hair, his eyes, his skin, even his teeth are all perfect, so why hasn't anybody asked him out, yet? He doesn't understand that, although he might look nice, live isn't just about looking handsome. Needless to say, he wouldn't be the best partner to a lover, so it is good that most people seem to stay away from a romantic relationship with him.

👔 If he were to ever find someone who embodies the values of the cult, as in they act and follow the values without being a part of the cult or knowing anything about it, he would go nuts for them. It would most likely be the only time that he would EVER treat someone as if they were above him. He most likely wouldn't even see them as a human being, instead claiming that they might be something above human. The problem is, with his narcissistic tendencies, he would feel as if he DESERVES them, so he would pursue them relentlessly. Due to the mysterious nature surrounding the cult, though, no one but the members know why someone simply embodying the values of the cult would be so important.

👔 If he were to ever figure out that something was up with the puppets, he would be soaring over both the Sun and Moon! He would take it as a sign that the cult's plans (ascension) is coming soon! Or maybe, it is a sign that his prayers are being answered! While in many cases Wally would worship/love the whoever controls him or helps him (which, William fits the first category in his own way), William would worship the puppets. He would believe that the life given to these inanimate objects are the possible embodiment of his cult's deities and/or ideals, which should be worshipped.

(Bruh I am going to write about this guy and Caesar Jones SO MUCH so I'm sorry if it makes my other writings for the Canon Welcome Home Characters x Readers a bit slower. I'll answer any questions about my Welcome Home OCs, too. Y'all don't have to, but I think it might help some people understand my current and future writings a bit more. OwO)

[riddlerosehearts]

OC ask game!

i was tagged by @nerdalmighty! tysm for tagging me! 💖

going to talk about my tav, elenion, and will try not to ramble too much about them!

do they have any special hobbies or skills?

well, aside from being a skilled musician (he is a bard, after all), i guess the main thing would be that he's also a great storyteller! and he's very passionate about history and anthropology, so he reads and researches a lot and uses topics like historical figures and folk tales as inspiration for songs to write and stories to tell. needless to say the adventure he ends up on during the game gives him plenty of material, lol. OH and they've always had an affinity for the night sky and loved stargazing as well due to the influence of their mother, who's an astronomer.

do they have any unique scars, marks, or tattoos?

hmm, i don't imagine that they do! so i'll answer an extra question at the end since i don't have much of an answer for this one lol

what's their fighting style? do they stick to the back and wait for a strategic opening, or charge in guns blazing?

oh, they definitely try and stick to the back or the sidelines and rely on ranged spells and crowd control abilities, while also doing everything they can to buff their allies/debuff their enemies. they're very overly cautious because of something that happened in their past--specifically, they've always believed that their own lack of caution while using fire magic during a performance caused their father's death. so in combat they want to be able to keep their distance and carefully plan and strategize as much as possible.

what does their tent look like? what do they keep inside it?

ooh okay so i've actually thought a bit about this already because i came across a fun little template on here for describing your tav's tent and i kept meaning to fill it out. i even looked at photos of tents on pinterest for it and i decided that elenion's would have a design similar to this, but imagine all the gold accents are silver instead. inside, he'd keep his lute or his lyre (whichever one he's not using at the moment) and probably other instruments the party finds on the journey, alongside a big pile of books. included among that pile are several journals he's filled with a combination of song lyrics and research notes and random personal thoughts, and his father's old songbook which he carries with him wherever he goes. he's also got a small music box, and some skin/haircare products because yes he's on a super dangerous journey and has a parasite in his brain to worry about, but if he doesn't at least try to take care of his appearance he's sure he'll go insane faster than you could say "ceremorphosis".

they'd also have a little exterior area that's similar to shadowheart's--some nice decorative pillows and a stool beside a table with a quill and inkpot, even more books and journals stacked up, and sheet music on a tabletop stand. everything they need to be able to sit under the stars while they attempt to relax or work on things. they have their own telescope too, but unlike gale's, theirs is a much more compact telescope that's meant for travel. and finally they've been accumulating a small collection of artifacts that they find while traveling and think are interesting!

...and now i've just rambled on a bunch about what might be in my character's tent LOL, whoops! i'm adding one additional question and then i'll be done.

what song represents them best?

i've been listening to pluto by sleeping at last a lot lately because it makes me think of elenion, so i'm going to say that one! to explain why as briefly as possible, by the start of the game he's been very much stuck in his past and in self-destructive patterns for a long time and throughout the game's story he realizes that he needs to let go and break those patterns if he ever wants to actually heal and be happy. so i think this song represents that really well.

tagging @smooti if you'd like to do this for your tav, but no pressure! i don't have a lot of bg3 mutuals and i'm not sure who else has OCs for it that they'd like to talk about! so if anyone sees this and wants to participate just say i tagged you.

my questions for your OCs:

Where is your OC from?

Do they have a romantic partner (or multiple partners), and if so then what first drew them to their partner?

Do they have any unique scars, marks, or tattoos?

What does their tent look like? What do they keep inside it?

(you can also answer any of the other ones that i answered above if you'd like to!)

[greycryingcorner]

of Moons and Stars • Prologue

// what happens if the moon falls from the sky? would it bring destruction or perhaps safety? are you willing to find out?

/ this is an OC story following the JJK timeline! Things will play out from their perspective as they try to find out who they are and what role they play in this world.

Tags: Fluff & Angst, Memory loss, Deaths, Spoilers, Found Family, NB MC. updated as I go o7

-☆-

‘Huh, how weird, I don’t recall what led me to this.’

It’s a gentle and sunny Sunday night in Tokyo. While known for its colors and business, on the edges of the loud city it was quite calm, you could hear the birds and insects as they sang their songs during the night and mornings and close your eyes to fall asleep alongside it.

That, unfortunately, wasn’t true for Megumi, who was currently sitting outside, unable to sleep. He had been struggling with sleep for a while, but it was now 3:45 AM and he had practice tomorrow. A sigh left him as he leaned back to look at the sky.

“Can’t sleep?” Came an oh so familiar voice from behind him. Megumi turned to look in the direction as he could feel the wood under him bend slightly as they sat down.

It was Gojo, because of course it was. Seemingly always up at any given moment. Megumi rested his head in his arms. “Mhn…”

Gojo smiled at him, reassuringly to make sure Megumi knew it was alright. “You look pretty tired to me.” He said, chuckling as he saw Megumi yawn.

“I just can’t seem to fall asleep regardless…” Megumi sighed. He was true that he was incredibly tired, and his training would most likely suffer tomorrow in turn, but no matter what he tried, he just wouldn’t fall asleep. Even the tea he would usually drink before bed wasn’t working this time.

Gojo pat him on the back. “Hmmm… what can we do about that…” He said, trying to find something that would help him get at least a bit of rest. Maybe some early practice? Oh! Or some boring papers, those worked wonders on Gojo. He was so lost in trance trying to find something that he missed Megumi tapping his shoulder a few times.

Megumi squinted up at the sky, seemingly seeing something. “Gojo…? Do you see that? That's not a curse, is it?”

Gojo was pulled out of his trance at that. “Hm? Where?” He looked in the direction Megumi was and saw something in the sky. Right under the moon, floating downwards slowly, it was hard to see but while he could certainly see cursed energy with it, it didn’t seem like a curse itself. More like a… Sorcerer?

They both stood up from their spots to walk towards where the shadow seemed to land. It was a bit into the more foliaged area of the practice field, in an area with a few trees, making it harder to see. “It’s not a curse but be on guard.” Gojo said as he slightly lifted his blindfold, trying to see the figure.

Slowly but surely the figure seemed to float down. They seemed to be unconscious by the way they were falling without a reaction.

Megumi’s mouth formed an o shape once he saw that it seemed to be a person.

Both of them kept watching as the body floated between the foliage and Gojo held out his arms to catch them from an actual fall and from landing in the dirt. They could now see that the person was apparently a sleeping person, their hands on their heart as Gojo caught their back and held them as the body went limp in his arms. Well this was curious.

Gojo sighed at the fact they seemed to be no threat for the moment. “Shoko is asleep for now, but we should check up on her tomorrow to check for any injuries. He then started walking towards the dormitory area as Megumi followed. “Eh? Are we just going to keep them asleep? What if they’re dangerous?-“

“Mhn, that’s a possibility, but by how they are looking right now, I doubt they’ll wake up anytime soon. Plus!” He lifted one finger. “I’ll keep watch, if they try anything we can make a plan b.”

Megumi mumbled a hushed “We should probably have a plan b beforehand…” That Gojo either truly didn’t hear or chose to ignore as they made their way to the first years dorms. “Mind if you open the door for me?” Gojo smiled and said before Megumi walked past him to open one of the doors and nodding.

He then laid the person onto one of the beds there, watching for any movement besides the slow and gentle breathing before grabbing a chair and sitting down next to the bed, the backrest between his spread legs and his arms crossed on top. “How’s that for a goodnight story for you Megumi?” He gently laughed, “Maybe if a few more people fall from the sky you can start counting them!”

Megumi just held his head at that. “And now?” He said before yawning again, his sleep schedule finally getting to him.

Gojo lifted a finger again. “Now, dear Megumi, you-“ He pointed it at him. “- will go to bed. I’ll keep watch, if anything happens I’ll wake you up.”

“And what if something happens while I sleep?” Megumi said, crossing his arms.

“Whaaaat? Do you not trust your trustworthy teacher anymore? I’m hurt…”

“Nevermind.” Megumi said before saying his goodnights and going to his own room.

Gojo looked towards the door as Megumi left before looking back at the person next to him. They had grey hair cut to be shorter in the front, a wolfcut. They were also wearing a black oversized sweater. If he had to guess he would assume them to be around 20.

“You know… it’s not often we have new students fall from the sky. Sleep well, tomorrow you get to answer lots of fun questions.” Gojo sighed, thinking about how to explain this to the higher ups, and oh the paperwork… ah this was going to be a long day.

[harmonyckrs]

Don Lothario, Hermia Capp and Vidcund Curious

Inserting the replies as asks to myself so there will be no renmants of the post when I eventually decide to delete it lol @npenguinc

Should note that I don't play much Pleasantview and I don't think there's much to Don but I enjoy all the theories that people come up with. I've seen two separate stories where he was innocent in regards to Bella's disappearance and decides to search and both of them were great. Also he is fun to play which is the most important part imo so I'd probably rank him either mid-tier or a bit higher if I were to rank him among other Pleasantview premades

I think he's probably just a fuckboy and there's nothing more to it but I do like the deeper characterizations that people give him. I also do think he's probably smart since he's in med school, and Cassandra seems like the type to be drawn to intelligence esp since she's working in the scientist career. Either way I would probably avoid him, but I don't think he'd be too scary as I feel like he would probably back off if you say no to him and find someone else

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(lol got a bingo)

Hermia is a bit complicated because she was one of many Veronaville premades that I did not care about when I first started playing (and I really did want to like her because she has my favorite design out of all of the premades there) but I think she's alright now. There's not much going for her by herself but she meshes well with the other Veronaville sims

There's little things here and there that I can overthink (like how she's best friends with Juliette and implied to be her confidante by the family image, has a decent relationship to Tybalt despite her bio saying that she doesn't understand him, her mutual crushes on both Puck and Mercutio alongside Romeo wanting to flirt with her most of the time when you first play) but at the end of the day I have no clue what was intentional and what was a coincidence

Feels like she plays the role of both the Nurse and Rosaline (considering Romeo has a want to flirt and she's technically a relative of Juliette like Rosaline was to Juliet) so I think there's a lot of things about her that I can theorize about. I think we would be good friends if she was real, I feel like we'd have common interests and we're similar personality-wose

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As for Vidcund I was one of numerous people who got into the Sims through CallMeKevin, with his Sims 2 playthrough being what made me want to try playing it. As a result I have a soft spot for him, he may be the most morally questionable out of his brothers but I think he is capable of changing as a person

I do get annoyed with stuff that gloss over the fact that he got mind controlled in the PSP game and pretend that he willing sold Tycho, especially when the same people are willing to acknowledge that Circe was mind controlled when she "had an affair" with Newlow. Because of that I usually remain in my bubble and look at stuff through tags rather than following specific ppl, but I think it's reasonable to dislike him for other reasons

Also the fact that he starts off being best friends with Lazlo is p interesting considering their opposite personalities but extroverted people who share a common interest with you are usually easier to talk to as an introvert since they can carry conversations and you can talk about the common interest. Reminds me of how I make most of my friends irl lol

I think we would get along horribly if he was a real person as he seems like the type who would be way easier to talk to once you get to know him, but it'll also be a pain to get to know him because he'll reject most of your efforts to do so and then proceed to complain about how he can't make friends. However he usually does mesh well with most of my sim OCs and makes for good enemies to lovers material because of the telescope thing.

[somethingclevermahogony]

OC Interaction Tag

Thank you for the tag @dungeonsandblorbos ! This feels like kind of cheating since we both already know eachother's characters haha (I DM the campaign that Cerris is from). Giving Cerris' character and his connection with Milo, it feels natural to have him interact with Ninma, but I'm not going to do that, instead I'm going to match Cerris up with a villain, Zatar.

C's OC: Cerris is a 23-year-old adventurer, albeit somewhat reluctantly, and the champion of a temperamental storm god. At the start of the story, he was fairly naive and trusting, a fact that was grossly taken advantage of by several bad actors to disastrous results. In the aftermath, he's become a lot more wary, cynical, and sarcastic. He hasn't lost his drive to do good—in fact, he's probably more devoted to good-doing now than ever before—but it's taken on something of a self-sacrificial edge due to the extreme guilt he feels over the aforementioned disasters. He's more than willing to throw himself in harm's way if it means protecting someone else. He's also more than willing to throw himself in harm's way for no particular reason, as he's gotten into a bad habit of being rather tactless and petty when dealing with super powerful beings and people who have weapons pointed directly at his face. At the same time, he is incredibly caring and patient with the few people he does trust, and will often awkwardly show his affection with small gifts. His only hobbies are whittling and playing "What did you steal from me today?" with his adopted child Milo.

My OC: Zatar is the spearmaster under the employ of the King of Labisa, Akard. His past was rough, a quarter demigod, born to a runaway warrior from the north and a Kishite lord. His mother abandoned him, and his father followed soon after. He grew up in the streets alongside his sister. Zatar is often cold, he rarely laughs or smiles, the only emotion he ever expresses to any great degree is rage. Zatar's life is defined by his loyalty to his King and to his sister, and his distaste for most of the nobility of both Kishetal and Apuna. Zatar is an incredibly violent and bloody person. Unfortunately for those that face him, his temperament is paired with an unmatched skill in ways of war and combat. He is obsessive, and will seek to complete a goal, even at great physical or mental expense to himself. While vicious, he does not necessarily seek violence, his actions are always in service of his king, he will almost certainly ignore anyone whose existence does not in some way help or hinder the ambitions of Akard.

How they would Interact: As long as Cerris does not in some way insult or else threaten Akard, or get in the way of Zatar completing what he believes is Akard’s will, I imagine that Zatar would be relatively ambivalent towards Cerris. He might not even remember Cerris’ name after meeting him. Cerris is technically a very minor noble, so that might cause some distaste on Zatar’s part, but not enough to actually mean much. Their interactions would be relatively curt, Zatar is cold and stiff, and Cerris is tactless, all in all the two of them being together in a room would, I think, produce a very uncomfortable environment. Now, if something was to happen, and the two did fight, I’m not entirely sure what the outcome would be. Cerris comes from a D&D world, and has access to a kind of magic that Zatar is completely unfamiliar with. On the other hand, Zatar as a D&D character would have crazy stats; his strength, dex, and constitution would all be incredibly high (I’m making him a character sheet now, cuz why not), plus his Arkodian Bronze Spear would give him lethal bonuses to his attacks. I suppose the final outcome would depend on other factors.

Tagging @willtheweaver , @mk-writes-stuff , @the-octic-scribe , and @inkovert, and also leaving this one open!

[unnecessary-feelings]

Tell me abt the oc u lovingly refer to as "weird arson motherfucker" pls

HI sorry i forgot to answer this, thank you for asking abt her!!! i’m still in the process of fleshing everything out so things might change but she’s my ace attorney OC! i’m putting everything under a read more because this post ended up being longer than i meant it to be and i don’t want this to be a pain to scroll through for anyone on mobile who doesn’t wanna read me rambling about blorbo from my brain, i’m sorry if this is hard to read i have trouble putting my thoughts into words for other people to read hdjdbfbdn, also spoilers for cases 4-1, 6-1, 6-3, and 6-5

i made her because i started wondering what would happen if dhurke and amara had a daughter older than rayfa that was in line to become queen before the khura’in royal residence fire and then i accidentally got carried away with her story lmao

her name is kaba’anyi padma khura’in (i was thankfully able to figure out a name for her after i created her tag, it means something along the lines of “daughter of the sun” because sun motif go brrr. ALSO i got to that name because nyi means sun in tibetan and khura’in is in the himalayas so i figured that link made sense. i’m very proud of her name because i struggle with naming characters so being able to make up a name for a character from a country that doesn’t exist is very big for me), or anyi for short, and she uses she/her pronouns. she was born in 1998 (for the sake of timeline consistency in this version of AA dhurke and amara are around 5 years older than they are in canon because after i had already chosen a birth year for her i realized that dhurke and amara would have been too young at that point in time shdnrhdh) and i played around with the idea of her committing a couple of crimes as a member of the defiant dragons, set a couple of government buildings on fire to get back at whoever tried to kill her and amara (she didn’t know it was ga’ran at the time but since they would have had to have access to the royal palace she knew they would have to have been high ranking and probably still were in that position) which is how i got her tag name but now i’m not sure if i wanna keep that part in or not lmao, now that i have a probably-concrete name for her i might move everything in her tag over to a new one, probably should do that sooner rather than later before the tag has too many posts

anyways, no matter if it was arson-related or simply because y’know, she was the daughter of the man who the country believed had murdered the previous queen, she was arrested, but she broke out and managed to fake her death to avoid being looked for (that part may be subject to change if i can’t figure out how exactly that happened, while i have a good grasp on the rest of her story there’s a gap between the royal palace fire and her moving to the US that is just kind of a loose collection of things i thought would be interesting for now hjsjdjsjfh)

so after that, she moved to the US when she was probably around 21 (still working on a concrete timeline but that’s somewhere around the right age) because of the rebellion. she changed her name to guinevere amos (i chose guinevere because the rest of the WAA except for trucy has mythology themed names so i figured arthurian legend would fit into that even though i’ve gotten all of my knowledge of arthurian legend from the mechanisms lmao, and i just chose amos because it was the first name of the main character of the book i was reading at the time and i’m pretty sure amos is also a last name so i went with it) and ended up joining gavin & co law offices which turned into a very awkward sibling reunion with apollo, i think she would have acted as a second co counsel alongside gavin (pretty sure that happened once in dd so i’m choosing to believe that double co counsels are a normal thing in the aa legal system) during 4-1 and helped apollo and phoenix get kristoph arrested, then she joins the WAA alongside apollo (although i think she would have joined a little bit earlier than apollo as she was quicker to accept phoenix’s invite at the end of 4-1) and then she helps the WAA with the rest of AA4 as well as AA5

as for AA6, anyi decides to go with phoenix to khura’in because it’s been nearly a decade since she was last in contact with her family and the rest of the rebels and she felt it was time to go back even if only for a couple of weeks, since she was now going under a different name she decided that it was safe to go back if she could keep her head low and avoid getting into trouble, obviously that didn’t happen, which marked the beginning of Guinevere Amos AKA Kaba’anyi Padma Khura’in’s No Good Very Bad Vacation, canon shenanigans ensue, you get the idea, when i get around to replaying the AJ trilogy (i’m intending on replaying it when it comes out on the switch but i might end up doing it before then as well) i’m thinking abt doing a liveblog thing (is it still liveblogging if you’ve already played the game in question?) where i also explain how anyi would interact with the events of the games if that makes any sense

after the events of 6-5. she stays behind in khura’in with apollo, and works with him at justice & co law offices, my original thoughts were that she takes back the role of royal priestess alongside being a lawyer and then quits when she becomes queen instead of rayfa but it could also be that she stays a lawyer and rayfa becomes queen like in canon, either way i’d imagine it could be a source of conflict between the two, although i think they would be able to work it out, unlike amara and ga’ran

one last thing, i’m currently working on some art for her and i am so excited to post it here because she is literally GORGEOUS i’m so proud of her design <33

i think that’s everything! i hope this made sense lmao

also is it normal to be nervous talking about your ocs to other people? it feels so weird trying to explain the things that come out of my brain like this

[luky-soul]

BAHH PINNED POST JUMPSCARE!!

so straight to the point, this blog is just gonna be me talking about the story things i write/my oc's because i wanna scream about the weird gay people i made

the profile pic is of one of the main characters from "king of diamonds" but this isn't gonna be a strictly kod blog

(on the topic of the pfp, i didn't draw it, i commissioned gummy on etsy)

anyway, here's all the stories and a little description :3

King of Diamonds: in the far far future, so far in fact our continents reformed into pangea ultima, the unchecked acts of the government continue to make life worse and worse for the people, from shrinking the final remaining residential district JUNKS even more, to bio engineering beasts named "Carbonites" that feed off humans so they can sell weapons just for Carbonite removal, life is very grim. however, a group known as "Förgätmigej" aims to rectify this and "remind" everyone of better times

Divine Decay: world renowned, yet forgotten, scientist Zagreus Sunday invented something known as a "WATCH" back in 2006, and thanks to the WATCH humanity has withered away in it's immortality, his goal? maybe to repent, maybe to die for one final time, maybe he can't even remember anymore

Rotten Autumn Leaves: Autumn is a strange girl, a girl who's dealt with relentless bullying nearly her entire life, with her only saving grace being her friend Dís. until Dís moved away that is. since then, Autumn never functioned, choosing to rot away in bed and let mold take her instead of moving on. but amidst her jealousy of her friends happy life, one day, she awoke in the past? an alternate reality? the after life?

Flowers in Hell: in the city of Hysteria, any and all scientific or technological advancement was stolen from the nearly immortal Cronqvist family. known for devouring people countless years ago, now they remain chained away in the basement of the biggest building in Hysteria for whenever their knowledge is next needed. but one day, paired alongside the murder of the mayor, Alucard was broken free from his chains and kidnapped by a strange witch named Etro

so those are all the ones i plan to talk about :3

i'll probably add tags later to easily sort through them but for now with the whole lot of nothing on this blog i think it's fine to leave it as is lol

[stillwaitin76]

Thank you for the tag! Since you’re interested in hearing both my headcanons and ocs, here they are! For the characters Peter played:

Joel Cairo:

Ah yes, my blorbo. My scrunkly doo. Now, I don’t exactly see him being a good babysitter. If it isn’t his inherent responsibility, he doesn’t care much. Not to mention, he has temper tantrums like a little kid, so there would be one actual kid and one adult (who has a child’s immaturity). BUT, I feel he would be a pretty good parent. He knows the responsibilities with being a father and would take it on, if he felt like he could settle down. But I do see him being a “girl dad” more. In his words, “Boys are dumb. I should know, I’ve gotten caught up with the dumbest.”

But if you have a little girl, who came from a rough home-life, Joel will pamper and spoil the hell out of her! Besides the pampering, he’d be quite empathetic towards her and any problems or trauma she may face. Also, considering his knowledge on art, she could grow to have a nice academic background. Just be warned, he may teach her how to use a pistol…

Mr. Munsey:

I know this guy was from an unsold pilot but I know for a fact that he would be a great babysitter. He’s surprisingly gentle, despite the grumpy old man exterior. He’d teach the kids how to sculpt (probably with play-dough, as he doesn’t want them to eat his actual clay) and would tell them all kinds of stories from his past jobs. Plus, it’s a package deal! Henry would absolutely help out and would bring their kitten, Hannibal, alongside them.

Now for my lorre-inspired ocs and how they would fare…:

Harold Kaminsky:

Now, I love Harold. He’s one of my favorite ocs, but there’s one thing you have to know about him... He’s a ghost. So, if you’re a human kid and you come across him, you would probably run away before he could even say hello. But if you’re a monster parent looking for someone to babysit your kid, he probably still wouldn’t be your number one pick. He’s got a lack of focus and gets easily distracted. Not to mention, he’s more comparable to a wine aunt. He’ll spill all the tea you didn’t wanna know, but is an absolute blast to hang out with!

Niffty:

(Now, she isn’t exactly a oc. She’s from my rewrite of Hazbin Hotel, @hotter-than-hell-rewrite. But she’s my most recent Lorre oc/parody and I wanted to add her.)

Now Niffty isn’t the most, let’s say… “mentally healthy” soul. She’s kinda similar to the Igor archetype or Dr. Herman, and will do anything that her boss will tell her to do. But, she does love the idea of being a caring housewife figure! She’ll bake the kids cookies, join in on their games, help bandage any injuries they might get, etc. But don’t let her babysit especially impudent kids, they’ll probably make her cry. And don’t let the kids make a mess, for Satan’s sake! There’s a reason she’s a janitor in Hell!

Nikolai Corman:

Finally! We have someone who’s fit to be a babysitter, as that’s his unofficial job! He and his husbands, Clyde and Cornelius are macabre parodies of characters like Mary Poppins and Mrs. Piggle Wiggle. No matter how grumpy Nikolai may seem, he adores the latchkey kids that run around his home. He absolutely teaches the kids how to use the classic Lorre Puppy Dog Eyes™️ and tells them stories and cautionary tales from his motherland. Struwwellpeter anyone? Anyway, he and his husbands are very protective of the kids and are willing to help them with their problems.

(I need to redraw them, it’s been a hot second lol)

this is a silly question but I'm genuinely curious: which lorre characters would make the best babysitters?

LOVE this question.

Short answer: Just about all of them, depending on your views. Here are just a few - join in, folks!

Polo

You'll never have a better organized home once Polo becomes part of it! Particularly skilled at teaching youngsters how to organize jewelry boxes, heirlooms, and other portable items of worth. You've never been so clutter-free! And all with an uncrackable good humor and a smile so sweet, you'll want to keep him forever. Note: Polo is up for adoption; inquire at the agency.

Dr. Herman Einstein

Best at influencing future professions in the realm of reconstructive surgery or as distillery owners, Herman also teaches choice Germanic phrases and the art of leaving a room gracefully if quickly. Plus, you get a two-for-one deal: Herman is accompanied by his jovial pal, Uncle Jonathan, who has a full bag of tricks to amuse and divert your children. You'll never look at your sewing kit the same way again!

Dr. Gogol

A distant relation to Dr. Einstein, call on "Helping Hands" Gogol for the next level of medical profession influence in the surgical realm. His eccentric manner will delight and amaze your children as they learn the latest techniques. Includes field trips for research purposes. Preference given to neighborhoods near gallows. Note: Households must clear a space for Gogol's equipment, which includes a wax effigy - on which to demonstrate surgical techniques, of course.

Colonel Gimpy/The Baron

Are your children interested in the theatrical arts? Call on Colonel Gimpy - he'll get the whole neighborhood of kids learning all sorts of techniques, from the innocent art of misdirection to making amusing owl faces and blowing horns. And for children who prefer the art of gathering and imparting information, Gimpy provides his completely innocuous persona of The Baron. Set your child up with a lifetime of transferable skills!

[astraldoesart]

Pinned Post!

Hello! I'm Astral. I go by it/its pronouns. I am very deep within the Markiplier and Jacksepticeye fandoms. Alongside others. I sometimes talk about important world issues but this is mostly a blog for my art and aus. I will also write on here.

Read this post for a laugh :)

[AO3] - [WATTPAD] - [DISCORD SERVER] - [VENMO] - [PATREON] - [COMMS] - [CARRD]

All the Blogs

@sinful-reblog - A blog for me to reblog things of all varities. Contains nsfw.

@dabis-loverboy - MHA writing blog, contains nsfw.

@nixie-writes-aot - Attack on Titan writing blog. Contains nsfw.

@nixies-op-imagines - One Piece writing blog. Contains nsfw.

@fivenightsatsins - Fnaf writing blog. Will contain nsfw (god dont look at me jdmdkdk).

@sinful-decaf - Smaller fandoms/generalized writing blog. Contains nsfw.

@ask-ego-manor - Ask blog for Markiplier egos, mostly Dark and Actor.

@ask-the-septics - Ask blog for Jacksepticeye egos, mostly Anti.

@ask-caretaker-mael - Ask blog for my irissona, Caretaker Mael.

@ask-hurricane-twist - MLP next gen AU blog following the story of Hurricane Twist.

@ask-the-warriors - Attack on Titan Warriors ask blog, including an oc.

@wc-endless-dreams - Warrior cats original comic blog.

@the-sinful-collective - System and vent blog. TWs will be both tagged and under general read mores (I sometimes forget tho).

All the AUs

Ego AUs

Megamind - Antihero au, Anti is Megamind and Jackie is Roxanne.

Werewolf - Antiaverage au, Chase is a human and Anti is the alpha of his pack. Anti protects Chase and his kids from dying after targeted by an enemy pack. Stacy died to a wolf from that pack when Anti first discovered Chase and his kids. Mostly Anti's perspective.

Mer - Schneeplebro and danti au. Dark is trying to wake up a god and Henrik is trying to stop him, Chase gets caught in the middle when Stacy makes and breaks a deal with Dark. Several perspectives.

Skyrim - Dark x Anti x Henrik x Chase au. Chase runs an inn, dealing with the hijinx of what eventually is his three boyfriends (mostly Dark and Anti). Chase's perspective.

Dragon - Marvin x Anti. Dragons have been hunted by humans for decades since the accidental murder of most of the royal family. Now it follows Anti, looking for his dad Chase who had been dragges off by humans. Too trusting, humans target him and almost hurt him until Marvin saves him. Marvin agrees to help. Anti's perspective.

Avian - Several ships. Several avians deal with the world they live with and the evil humans are capable of. Several perspectives.

Crossover - Still in concept. The mers and avians having a crossover where they could meet and what not. Probably won't have a real story or plot. Sub au of the mer and avian aus.

Bird Boys - Chase x Marvin x Henrik. Follows the story of the avian au except Chase doesn't end up dating Anti and Jackie. Chase's perspective.

Gods - The Iplier and Septic egos as gods. So far, no real story except gods go brr.

Undead - Anti x Henrik and Jackie x Chase. Set in the universe of the walking dead, main four boys handle a zombie apocalypse. Starts as Chase's perspective but follows Jackie, Henrik, and Anti.

Sparklecats - I have no explanations. Just the egos as sparklecats. There are two clans even. Septicclan and Iplierclan.

Five Nights at Sam's(FNaS) - Very early conception. Basically fnaf and ego crossover with Anti as William Afton.

IRIS Pokemon - Early concept. The JSE egos(+ Caretaker Nix) in the Pokemon universe.

Attack on Titan AUs

Bertholdt Survives - OC x canon au. Inspired by the song "I Know Those Eyes/This Man Is Dead" from The Count of Monte Cristo. Bertholdt survives the Battle of Shiganshina, switching sides. Chaos ensues when he sees the Warriors again in season 4.

Band - OC x canon. Inspired by the song "Guys Don't Like Me" by It Boys. The Warriors, minus Annie, make up a band. Eren, Mikasa, Armin, and Zakai make up another band. Zakai is dating Armin but meets Bertholdt in a club. She ends up cheating on Armin with Bertholdt's help.

Traitor - OC x canon. Zakai makes a different choice, siding with Paradis instead of Marley when she is reunited with Reiner, Bertholdt, and Annie. Her loyalty is grey until its revealed that Reiner and Bertholdt are the Armored and Colossal titans. She ends up running into Armin's arms specifically. Angst heavy.

Warring Pokemon - Early concept. AoT characters(+ ocs) in the Pokemon universe. I just want more pokemon brainrot to be shared.

My Hero Academia AUs

Hero - Where the LoV + ocs have different upbringings, resulting in many to be heroes instead. A "fix it" au of a sort. LoV and the Big Three aged down to fit into UA (with the Big Three being in 2A instead of 3A).

One Piece AUs

If You Died - An au where Lenna dies instead of Lila. Early concept.

19 Total AUs