#which I think makes the Crown and its outcome hurt EVEN WORSE

[fellsilver]

I've been chipping away at info posts about The Nine and I'm like. how do I explain they were canonically a polycule, where do I put that info

[groenendaelfic]

Faroe Gone Final Chapter Sneak Peak

So there's still lots of editing I need to do before I can post the whole thing, but with tomorrow looming I thought I'd share something "happy" and "cheerful" to distract y'all.

Have fun reading the beginning of the final chapter and hope you enjoy! 😇

Simon doesn't know if it's the sudden fog, his tears, or the fact that all he wants to do is be a fool and turn back around again—the first one, definitely the first one—but he drives back to Tórshavn at almost a snail's pace.

It doesn't matter. He has well over a day until the ferry makes its return journey to Denmark and nothing else to do except go over his time with Wilhelm again and again, replaying the good times and the pleasurable times and wondering if he could have said or done anything to change the outcome of his journey—other than realizing that all of his feelings were mere nostalgic illusion and fantasy, which of course turned out to not be the case.

Quite the opposite. Real Wilhelm was so much more than what Simon made him out to be in his head. There's so much he's missed. So much he doesn't know yet and which he desperately wants to find out.

It hurts, and yet there's nothing else Simon can do, no other choice which wouldn't hurt more sooner or later.

No. Simon tried. He did the best he could and that is enough. It has to be enough.

Simon had to leave while he still could.

The road ahead of him is empty, no one else in sight. No people, no cars, no sheep. Nothing except the wet, cold fog swallowing up everything and a rushing noise in his ears which might be the wind or the ocean or Simon himself.

Simon blinks away another tear and keeps driving, turning up the heat and hoping it will help.

It doesn't.

On the next island he passes a camper van. It's parked, and Simon thinks he can make out a brave tourist trying to take a picture, but he isn't sure. It's not as if there's much to see except an endless wall of grayish white.

Maybe that's the fascination.

Wilhelm told him that there are thirty-seven words for fog in the Faroese language, and while Simon laughed and told him to stop kidding, he's sure he's already experienced half of them, and it's only been two days.

Okay, that might be an exaggeration, but contemplating the uselessness of taking pictures of fog is a lot more bearable than lingering on the fact that he'll never get to be with Wilhelm again, never feel that satisfied ache in his muscles, not like this, and really how long can a grown man cry before he's all out of tears?

Pretty long he guesses.

Simon once stopped Ayub's baby daughter from attempting a daring escape on all fours, and Simon swears she was crying forever. Not that he blames her.

Crying is cathartic if it's anything, but if she could produce that many tears because of nothing more than a foiled plan to explore the stairway, then how many will Simon be able to shed before he's all wrung out? He’s a lot taller than her after all and guaranteed to not forget the reason for his tears even after being presented with some candy.

Simon doesn't want to know.

Simon wants to keep driving through this fog forever, because all that's waiting for him at its end is the mundanity of his never-changing life and a scandal revealing the Crown Prince to have been the victim of underage revenge porn thanks to his second cousin and presumed successor, and that is guaranteed to make it worse, to drag Simon’s name back into public awareness.

He should probably call home and warn his mom, warn Sara, but facing them will be torture of an entirely different kind, and also the investigative journalist they chose is a good one, one bound to build a case and not blindly believe her sources before going public, so there is still time.

Not too much though, as there is an impending deadline if the Royal Court and the Prime Minister are to be believed, or at least Simon would really prefer news of August’s deeds to overshadow him being taken into the line of succession.

Not that he’s so naive as to think a mere article can do more than delay the proceedings at best—although one can always hope—and ideally the journalist and whoever else gets a say in choosing the right time will see it the same way, but all of that is still more than half a week away, so why burden his family before he absolutely has to?

No, he's not going to call home yet, but maybe he should reserve a room before he gets back to the capital.

He decides to do it the old fashioned way and pulls over at the next opportunity. A viewpoint, or so he presumes the sign a few meters away from him would tell him if only it was clear enough to see.

He wipes at his cheeks and opens his phone. There are plenty of options for him to stay at. Small, privately owned places, holiday homes with kitchens and living rooms, quaint little hotels doing their best to sell their Nordic, rustic charm to tourists wealthy enough to make it there, and of course a camping ground, because unlike Sweden, the Faroe Islands don't allow one to set up camp anywhere else.

Simon doesn't choose any of them. He wants a warm but bland room, boring and inoffensive and as likely to be in Tórshavn as on the other side of the world.

Something as far from Wilhelm's colorful and most definitely handmade and expensive wooden furniture as he can get, and so he books himself a room at the first—and only—international hotel chain he can find, something he'd never do otherwise, and pretends that he's looking forward to it. The hotel has a fitness center after all and well over a hundred rooms. Simon is almost going to feel like back home in Uppsala.

Not.

He sighs and makes sure he received a confirmation for his booking, before he throws his phone onto the passenger seat and sighs again.

Somehow, magically, or rather because he's on a windy archipelago in the middle of nowhere, the fog is starting to clear. He can see a few meters of grass now, and then a cliff, and below it the cold, dark ocean pretending at being calm.

Simon wants the fog back, but when has he ever gotten what he wanted, and by the time he's back on the road he swears he can see a tiny patch of blue sky up ahead.

The hotel is on the outskirts of town and exactly as impersonal as Simon hoped it would be. He isn't hungry, and so he goes straight to his room and falls face first into bed.

The sheets are white and the pillows are white and they smell bland and clean and inoffensive, nothing at all like Wilhelm, and why would they?

Simon hates them. Simon also hates the hotel, but it's not as if he's in the mood for sightseeing, and as he isn't willing to take a shower yet—what? He's alone, no one's going to smell him, and isn't that the entire problem?—all that's left to do is turn on the TV, because he's for sure not touching his phone again any time soon.

Not when that would mean having it confirmed with every passing minute that he was a fool to leave Wilhelm his number. Wilhelm isn't going to call, but Simon would rather live in denial for as long as he can.

The TV does not greet him with an info screen as Simon expected, but an English speaking news channel, the volume turned up way too loudly, and Simon turns it off again as fast as he can.

Wallowing in self pity it is then.

Unfortunately Simon's usual answer to bouts of self-pity—angrily jerking off to thoughts of Wilhelm—is not an option right now, because Wilhelm is the entire reason for his misery, and so he grudgingly reaches for his phone after all and starts up a game which would work much better on a computer screen.

He's just about to finish off the newest boss, when a text message pops up.

If I do it, it reads. Then can we

The sentence stops halfway through, and Simon almost has a heart attack.

The delay in his reaction is enough for him to be killed instead, but it's not as if Simon notices.

Wilhelm. It has to be Wilhelm.

He taps the message, and while that makes it larger, it doesn't change the words.

He almost calls Wilhelm back right away, because Wilhelm is swaying, is reconsidering, and Simon wants that, he wants it so bad, to have Wilhelm back in his arms and his life, but also Simon already told Wilhelm that he can't be the only reason Wilhelm returns, that this is a life changing decision if there was ever any, and that Wilhelm needs to make it for himself and not for a hope of them maybe working out, and so he doesn't.

Instead he waits an excruciating minute and then another, just in case Wilhelm wants to add something or pressed send too soon, but no further message follows.

Simon curses and swears and kicks up his feet, because now he has hope again and that is great, but also torture. He doesn't want Wilhelm to get the wrong impression, doesn't want him to think that Simon wouldn't be willing to pick right up where they left off if he could—in the bedroom that is, not when it comes to fighting—and maybe they could also go on a date which has been nineteen years in coming.

Simon wants that. Simon really wants that. How can he not, now that he's had a taste, has spent time with Wilhelm, just Wilhelm, has had breakfast with him and done chores with him and played with his dog. Simon wants Wilhelm back, now more so than ever.

Simon knows he's an idiot, thinking of romance and dating when he just left the love of his life behind, and even if he hadn't, a returning Wilhelm would have much different things on his mind. He'd have to. He'd have no other choice. Things like his dying mother and the throne and the public reacting to his return after ten years in exile.

Wilhelm wouldn't have time for Simon, no matter how much Wilhelm would want him. Not for weeks and not for months. Simon would have to sneak into an assortment of palaces with the eyes of the entire nation on nothing but them if he wanted any time with Wilhelm at all, and Simon wouldn't want that. Simon doesn't want secrecy and sneaking and lies. Not that'd even be an option, what with the press and curious bystanders everywhere.

There is another option of course. The only one Wilhelm would ever consider coming back for. The one which at first glance sounds perfect because it means being with Wilhelm and standing by his side. It would also mean giving up everything else in Simon's life though, but what has he really got to lose? Why stop being foolish now?

Wilhelm told Simon that he's it for him. Wilhelm loves him. Simon's already traveled across an ocean. What's one tiny text message compared to that? Why can't he be selfish just this once and fuck the risk and the idiocy and the fear of what will be in one year? In five? In ten?

It all might end in disaster, but it might also not, and why should he be miserable if there's even the slightest chance at some fleeting happiness. After all it's not as if the email Wilhelm sent isn't bound to upend Simon's life anyway, and it's not as if Wilhelm is actually going to come.

Simon wants to be happy.

Simon wants to be happy and now there's a chance for it and so why not take it? He's done stupider things before, like coming here in the first place, so he might as well go all the way.

He doesn't text Wilhelm a yes, doesn't make any promises. He texts one word and one word alone, followed by a number, the name of the hotel and his room number, and maybe that's the biggest promise of all.

He doesn't regret it. He couldn't stay, not without making his inevitable departure even worse, but now he's done his part and the ball is in Wilhelm's court, all the balls are, and Simon is here and waiting.

For a ferry. For Wilhelm. For the life they could have had.

Fuck.

[instasiswetrust]

Cherry Lane Challenge Day 3 - Crow

A flutter of black, out of the corner of his left eye is what first catches his attention. His hand raises, signaling his party to stop in their tracks. There's some shuffling and a few annoyed huffs which he ignores in favor of taking careful steps towards what caught his eye in the first place.

All is still for a second and then- There. The dry sound of feathers brushing together.

Silently, he steps closer to the source of the sound. When he sees what it is, he relaxes minutely allowing himself another breath. It is but a crow, its left wing dragging over the dewy grass of the clearing. He sees no blood so he assumes it must be broken.

Another careful step takes him even closer to the scared bird, his fingers nearly brushing its feathers, so close-

"Steve, what's the hol- Is that a bird?"

Tommy and the rest of the hunting party burst into the clearing with too loud steps and raised voices, startling the bird into a frantic state once again. It squawks in its fear, broken wing fluttering pitifully as it tries to escape what it assumes to be a predator.

"I almost had it, Tommy!" He turns to his companion, features set into an angry scowl. He may only be seventeen but he was the Crown Prince and they should've listened to his orders! "Why did you break position?"

Instead of answering his question, Tommy walks past him as crouches right by the bird, poking it with a stick and laughing at its resulting squawk. "Can't believe you stopped a hunting party just to save a bird, Stevie. What are you? Snow White?"

Heat rises to the prince's cheeks and he smacks the stick out of Tommy's hands. "Leave it. It's already hurt enough without you making it worse."

Tommy quirks an eyebrow, teeth bared into a nasty smirk. He gives a mock bow that makes Steve's eyes narrow.

"As you wish, milord."

And then, making sure he's got Steve full attention, he gives the injured bird a sharp kick sending it smacking against a tree with a feeble squawk.

The bird struggles to upright itself, collapses, and tries again, before eventually just laying there. Unmoving if not for the minuscule shifts of its diaphragm. All Steve can do is watch, knowing full well that if he so much dares make a move to help it again, Tommy might outright try to crush it under the sole of his boot.

Under the raucous laughter of the soldiers, he follows the hunting party back to the deer trail they were following, the back of his neck red with poorly contained rage. All thoughts of injured crows and helpless birds are stored at the back of his brain where he no longer has to think about them again.

---

So that night, when he walks into his chambers half-drunk on too much ale and a hearty roast, the last thing he expects is to find a girl sitting on his desk chair. Her vermillion hair is cropped short and would help her pass for a man were it not for her curvaceous figure, so distinctly female even under the black robes she wears. On her head, a crooked hat sits adorned with what he thinks are feathers.

As he steps inside, she stands up and he notices her eyes appear yellow behind her spectacles.

"Who are you?" He tries to sound authoritative, like the prince he's supposed to be, but he's too drunk to manage anything more than slurred inquisitiveness.

"Don't you recognize me?" Her lips barely move as she speaks and yet her voice comes out as a shrill squawk, not too different from the frantic sounds of the crow in the forest. It makes him flinch, taking a step back. "Maybe this will help jog your memory."

Under his watchful gaze, he sees her shift into the same crow he saw that morning. His eyes follow the bird as it flies around the room once, before landing on the chair. A blink later, and the girl from before is sitting in the same spot.

No. Not a girl.

A witch.

Because of fucking course the crow had to be a witch. That was just his life.

"Look, I'm sorry for what Tommy did to you earlier today and I truly wished to help you but if I did-"

"But if you did, your companions might've killed me while you watched." She hums, inspecting her sharp nails with clear disinterest. "Those are but excuses and we both know it."

"They are not-!"

The witch clicks her tongue disapprovingly and he finds the words he meant to say dying on his tongue. Fear rises in him, and only then does he consider that the reason she's here and not with Tommy is that he's the one she's planning to hurt.

"It is an excuse, darling." She fixes him with a sharp glare. "You're Steve Harrington, Crown Prince of the kingdom of Hawkmond. They should respect you and yet your own foot soldiers treat you like you're below the sole of their feet."

A feeble protest rises in his throat but she only has but to look, before silence descends upon him again. The worst part? She is absolutely right.

"You're weak-willed. Spineless. A disaster in the making." She huffs, taking the few steps that separate them until they are standing almost nose to nose. "I shall not allow a person like that to ruin what this kingdom could become."

In her yellow eyes, he sees rage flash however briefly, and he wonders what sort of circumstances led a witch to care this much for the outcome of a whole kingdom. It is but a split-second judgment, yet it's all he manages.

For the next thing he knows, pain radiates from every single nerve ending in his body. He falls upon his knees, writhing in agony, and through his anguished screams, he swears he can hear the witch croon in a sticky-sweet voice.

Scion of swords and kings

A curse of feather and blood

Placed upon thee

For thine will is brittle as bone

This shape thou shall keep

Til’ the day thy soul’s to pass

Unless thy lesson is learned

And thee flies with thine own wings

By the next morning, every single person in the Capitol knows Crown Prince Steve Harrington has gone missing. None a single clue left behind to find him.

---

He finds out pretty quickly that the best way to find food in the forest is to follow the wolves.

It's been two months since the night he was cursed, and Steve's come to the conclusion that while sometimes annoying, being a bird wasn't as awful as he first assumed it would be. Flying was nice once he managed to get the hang of it, and messing with the occasional villager while he indulged in the instinctual desire to steal shiny things was something he hadn't expected to enjoy so much.

But he really could do without the feeding.

The first few days he had outright refused to take part of any rotten bit of meal he found, no matter how appetizing it might've seemed to his new instincts.

By day four he had to give in and eat, or he risked worse injuries.

It had been a distasteful ordeal up until he had found the wolf pack during his first full moon as a crow. Night had fallen, and as he made his way through the thick trunks on unsteady talons, he had heard the first howl. For a second, he had almost considered leaving. Retaining this half-human form was still something he struggled with and he wished to enjoy the little time he had before he once again had to return to his feathery prison.

But the call of the wolves ensnared him, and he had to find them.

Except none of them were normal wolves, as he found out once morning came.

From what he has observed in the last month, most members of the pack preferred to stick to their wolf forms as much as they could. Occasionally, one or two of them would venture into the closest town for certain necessities but that was about it.

It was weird.

It was also fascinating.

They didn't seem to mind his prolonged stay, in fact, it almost looked like they welcomed him among their midst without so much as a second thought. He didn't question it, just enjoyed it for the time being although he always made sure he only shifted into his halfling form where the wolves wouldn't find him.

At least, that had been the plan.

But now, staring into the ice-blue eyes of the blonde wolf he had started thinking as his wolf, he realizes that he overlooked one tiny but very important detail.

Wolves tended to have a keen sense of smell.

Well, shit.

Silence pervades the small nook between the trees he had taken as his hiding spot away from the pack, as he simply stares back at the wolf. Waiting for something, maybe a shift, a lunge. Anything.

Except a whole minute passes with nothing happening, and Steve is starting to feel foolish.

"So is this the part where you try and eat me? Or warn me to stay away from the pack?" He chances, hoping for a reaction.

The wolf cocks its head to the side, blue eyes looking almost mocking before there's a ripple and a human is crouching in its place. A very blond, very handsome, human with ice blue eyes. Who's also kind of naked.

Huh.

"The fact that you think nobody knew what you were as soon as you hopped into the clearing that night is telling." At Steve's confused look, the wolf (the man?) chuckles. Guess he was right about the mocking part. "You reek of magic, little bird. Magic and human flesh."

"Well, how was I supposed to know?" He snaps, the small feathers that cover his neck fluffing up.

"Common sense?" There's a smirk this time, along with a flash of fangs. "Did your mother not teach you about magical signatures once you came out of the egg?"

"I- ah" He falters, unsure if he should explain that he wasn't born like this but rather turned into this. He runs a talon through the feathers that have replaced his hair before sighing. "I'm a human, actually. Just got cursed to look like this."

The man-wolf hums, giving him an appraising look. "That explains a few things."

Steve scoffs, ready to stand up and leave this guy alone to go bother somebody else when suddenly he feels a heavyweight drop onto his lap. When he looks down, he's met with a pair of ice-blue eyes looking back at him.

He wonders, not for the first time, why he picked this particular wolf to stick close to out of all the others.

"Does the little birdy have a name?" That smirk is back again and it almost makes him blush. Makes him glad that his whole skin is now covered in black fluffy feathers.

"If I tell you, will you stop calling me that?"

"Nope. But I might give you my name too."

It sounds like a fair deal at least. And that way he could stop calling him man-wolf in his head.

"Steve."

"Steve. Hm. Not quite what I expected." It's been so long since the last time someone said his name, it feels weird hearing it now from someone that is not himself. "Mine's Billy, by the way."

"And what did you expect, Billy?" The name feels foreign on his tongue but he figures time will make it easier. After all, it's not like he ever can return to Hawksmond unless whatever conditions the witch placed upon the curse are met.

Billy shrugs, stretching languidly across Steve's lap in all his naked glory. Something that Steve's doing his best to steadfastly ignore. "Some fancy bullshit like Stefano or Guillermino."

He snorts at that, covering his mouth with a clawed talon. "Why would you even think that?"

"You look the part, little birdy."

[ilguna]

Malefic - Metanoia (f.o)

Summary: you will be crowned victor of the 75th hunger games.

warnings; swearing, BLOOD MENTION, angst.

wc; 500-ish?

NOTES; i give reader a last name to fit the world.

I WROTE THIS AT 3AM. IT’S NOT FANTASTIC. IT’S A BLURB. DON’T TAKE IT TOO SERIOUSLY. THANKS.

–

“(Y/n), just stop.” Finnick says, his entire face is twisted in anger, he motions for you to leave.

“Stop what?” You ask, stalking towards him, “I thought you knew what you were getting into. You said so yourself, you knew me.”

“No, that’s not what I said—“

“Really? Because I have a pretty good recollection of it.” You tilt your head, “You were the one saying that you’d be here through thick and thin. That you could handle whatever I dished out.”

“This is not what I meant.” He hisses, eyes snapping to you.

For a moment, you want to be angry. But you don’t even get a chance, because a smug sneer is crossing your face, “You thought I would be sunshine and rainbows?”

“Stop!” He says lowly.

“You thought that just because I’m dating you, is suddenly change like that—?” You snap your fingers, shaking your head.

“Shut—“

“You are by far the dumbest person I’ve ever fucking met. I even came with warning labels and you still managed to fuck it up.”

“Quit it.” Finnick’s face is straight and angry. You’ve briefly seen him angry, but not like this. This is different.

“Or what? You’re going to go crying to Johanna? Call me a fucking bitch and have her rub your shoulders and tell you that you deserve better?” You mock a sad face, “Have her tuck you in and read you a bedtime—“

Finnick shoves your shoulders hard, too hard. You stumble, arms reaching out behind you to catch yourself on the wall before it’s too late. It doesn’t work, your head slams into the cement wall, a white hot pain straight out of hell collided with your head.

You slide down the wall with no choice, fingers fumbling to the warm feeling that’s creeping down the back of your neck. At the sight of rich red blood, you’re looking back at Finnick.

You open your mouth, prepared to send him a snarky remark; a congratulations on him finally being able to hurt you in some way, since he can’t do it emotionally or mentally.

His voice overlaps yours, loud and roaring, “Don’t you fucking get it?! You’re so fucking manipulative!” He stands over you, seething rage, “You do this—all the fucking time and then wonder and pout about how no one wants you—

“This is why! You’re so fucking unbearably unloveable because of your stupid superiority complex!” Finnick’s lip curls, snarling, “You think you’re so much better than the rest of us, but the truth is, you’re worse. At least we figured out healthy coping mechanisms, you just sought out abuse.”

He doesn’t stay, he leaves immediately after. The back of your head is throbbing, gushing blood. You sit on the floor for a while, carefully leaning your head back against the wall while you try not to be bothered about the heat on your back.

At some point, the slightest head movement is enough to make you dizzy. You gently get off the floor, carefully placing a hand on the back of your head. There’s a good puddle of blood where you had sat before, and you find that you’re coated in it when you look in the mirror.

Smeared down the side of your face, around your ears and down your neck. You aren’t too focused on your expression in the mirror until you go to leave and catch how pale you’ve grown. You need to get help.

You’d take care of it yourself, be self-sufficient as usual. But they don’t keep medical stuff in the room. And if they do, you don’t know where to find it. So, you wander out of your room and down the hall until you find the elevator.

Its not empty when it reaches your floor. In fact, you’re face to face with Haymitch and Katniss. At first, they glance past you, until a voice that you hardly recognize as yours is leaving your lips.

“I need help.” You whisper, blinking to keep yourself awake, “Please.”

Haymitch sees you first, and snaps awake. Once the door is pulled up, he’s grabbing you to keep you upright, “What happened?”

“I fell. I blacked out and hit my head and when I woke up, I was covered in blood.” You look between Haymitch, and Katniss. Katniss looks less than thrilled to see you. You can’t blame her, “I’ll make it by myself, I think.”

“We should walk you—“

“No, you’re doing something important.” You pull away from him, “I’m not important. I’m nothing.” You make it inside of the elevator, pressing yourself to the corner to keep upright, “I’m sorry for asking. Don’t worry about me.”

You push the button to the medical floor, which has an asterisk next to the number. Haymitch looks like he still wants to offer help, and you think you see something different in Katniss’ eyes, that you easily play off as nothing, you’re just dizzy.

The elevator moved, leaving them where they are. You have to keep to the corner, away from the door since you didn’t pull it down like you should’ve. You go down for what feels like forever.

You’re motion sick at the bottom, but drag your feet long enough to make it. Black spots eat away at the corners of your eyes, white static taking over spaces where it shouldn’t be. You feel hands on your arms, and slump.

Whoever it is, follows you all the way to the floor, cradling you in their arms. You keep your eyes shut, hoping that the spinning motion will die out if you see nothing but darkness, but it doesn’t go anywhere. It feels worse.

“Hey,” the voice is gentle, and warm and too familiar, “(Y/n)? Please open your eyes for me, just real quick.”

There’s a pressure beneath your eyes suddenly, making you flinch.

“Look at me.” There’s a certain softness to it, too delicate, on the verge of breaking.

Your eyelids feel heavy, words barely forming in your brain long enough to form a lazy string of thoughts. Whoever it is, cares about you deeply.

What a waste, you think, you’d have a better chance at striking gold.

Your eyebrows draw together, and you struggle to open your eyes for a second to see who would be stupid enough to help you, much less care about you.

Oh. Of course.

Brown hair that looks golden in white light. Sea green eyes that used to catch the hearts of everyone in the Capitol, now filled to the brink with clear, wobbly tears. The lightest blink could send them over the edge.

Finnick, back so soon? What a surprise, you never learn.

“I’m sorry.” He says, slowly scooping you up, “I’m so sorry. I thought that you’d come down here sooner. I didn’t think...”

Taking the blame all on himself, as if you’re not the one that sat there knowing the consequences.

You blink, and struggle to open your eyes again. You think it would be better if you died here. If only you’d stayed in the dorm and let yourself wither away there. At least then you’d get what you deserve.

“This is a mistake.” The words are slurred, making no sense. Finnick looks down at you, worried.

“What?”

“Just let me go.” You turn your head, at the end of the hall stands bald Johanna. You think you can see the scar from when you slammed her head against the rock.

Now we’ll be matching.

“Shut up, don’t do this now.”

“Do you know the definition of insanity?” You murmur, eyes locking with his, “It’s when you do the same thing over and over and over and expect a different outcome every single time.”

You press your lips together, willingly closing your eyes now. Finnick’s saying something, you purposely drown him out, hoping that the usual coldness of the darkness, now replaced by warmth, is going to be enough to show Finnick just how good he’ll have it without you.

After all, you’re unbearingly unlovable. He shouldn’t be wasting his time on you.

[seokoloqy]

Chapter 1: Who Will Rule?

➳ PAIRING: hoseok x reader x namjoon

➳ GENRE: royal!au, interactive

➳ WORD COUNT: 6.1k

➳ WARNINGS: some blood, nothing much

➳ SUMMARY: The king’s bastard son, Hoseok versus Namjoon, the adopted crown prince. Their kingdom is in shambles struggling to figure out who deserves to become their next king. You end up stuck in the middle of their dilemma, discovering new sides to both men as they learn to accept the truth of their birthrights.

➳ A/N: HEADS UP FRIENDS!!! this is an interactive fic!!! This means at the end of each chapter will be a choice and your choices will lead the story and shape your relationship w each character! So I hope you’ll enjoy this wild ride w me

—

“Something wrong?” Yoongi peers into the moving carriage as he walks alongside it, ensuring it’s safe arrival to your destination. He wears a face of worry, hoping you’re not too stressed about the visit to your neighboring kingdom.

“I don’t know,” you sigh, leaning your head against the cushioned seat. Your chest puffs out as you breathe in the chilly air, fingers absentmindedly twirling around each other in circles. “I’m just nervous that’s all.”

The carriage dips slightly when Yoongi stops walking alongside it and he hops onto the side step to lean in further. He rests his arms on the open window, taking a closer look at your expression. “Were you gossiping with your ladies maid again?”

You purse your lips, turning away from Yoongi with a pout and confess, “Yes.”

Often when you were getting dressed in the morning your ladies maid would do your hair and spill all the latest gossip spreading around the castle. The news of your neighboring kingdoms trouble seems to be the latest edition of gossip spreading throughout all the kingdoms.

“The bastard son or the adopted crown prince,” your ladies maid said in a foreboding, storytelling voice as she did your hair.

She spoke of the neighboring kingdom and its current king. With their king unexpectedly falling ill and no good news of his deteriorating condition, they need a king soon, even if the young crown prince, Namjoon, is still learning the ways to properly run a kingdom. 

But, your ladies maid exclaimed, leaning in closely to whisper in your ear, in a fever-induced state the king revealed his longest, darkest kept secret—the truth of his secret affair with a maid and the crown prince's true identity. 

The king had revealed to the entire court that Namjoon was not his biological son, automatically making Namjoon ineligible to rule the kingdom because he did not share the king’s blood. On top of that, the king also admitted he mistakenly had an affair with a maid who became pregnant and gave birth to a son, his first son, Hoseok. Apparently, the king didn’t divulge any more information than that before passing out.

Now you’re on your way to this broken kingdom to marry the crown prince…whoever he’ll be. This marriage alliance is the one thing that will unite your two kingdoms and now it’s on the brink of collapsing if they can’t come up with a true heir soon. 

Although the coronation and wedding have been put on hold as they sort things out, their king gets worse and worse every day. They need to choose a new ruler now and they have no idea who it will be. 

With the revelation of new blood and secret adoptions, your marriage alliance and the next ruler are uncertain. If the crown prince has been adopted there’s not a drop of royal blood that flows through his veins which makes him ineligible to rule and if they chose a Hoseok, who has never been educated on the details of running an entire kingdom, it spells doom for its people. 

You’ve met the crown prince a few times as a child. Namjoon was groomed for this role since birth, and you could see the dedication he had for the position, along with admiration for his father. 

What did it matter if he wasn’t blood? Becoming king is all he has ever known. His position is being threatened by the oldest law, only the king’s bloodline will rule, and you find it unfair for him. 

As for Hoseok, your maid didn’t tell you much because no one really knew who he was before the news. They only knew he was raised by his mother and worked at the castle as a servant his whole life with no idea of who his father was. 

How can they be choosing between Namjoon, someone who has the knowledge of running a kingdom, versus Hoseok, born out of wedlock and raised in a kitchen by the maid? 

“Maybe if the king wasn’t such a whore they wouldn’t be in this mess,” Yoongi admits candidly. “Who knows how many more illegitimate children he has running around?”

“Yoongi!” You gasp, nearly shoving him off your carriage. “Don’t say that!”

Hitting his shoulder doesn’t stop him from continuing.

“Maybe if their king owned up to his mistakes the kingdom wouldn’t be in such shambles right now. Maybe he wouldn’t be dying for his sins,” Yoongi goes on, ranting about how foolish the king had been to let this secret continue till he was on his deathbed. 

Your very opinionated and outspoken knight shakes his head in disappointment. 

“I hate to send you off knowing how unstable things are there. Your father is too stubborn and irrational sometimes,” Yoongi grumbles his thoughts aloud. 

Normally, Yoongi’s criticism of your father would never be uttered anywhere near him, but your bond with Yoongi gives him the confidence that you won’t go spilling his true feelings to your father. 

“I mean, an arranged marriage with the crown prince when they don’t even know who it’ll be yet? He must be insane to think proposing marriage right now is the best timing! What if they chose the bastard son? Then you’ll be stuck with him for the rest of your life. Who knows how many daddy issues he has?” 

Sometimes you think Yoongi acts more like a father figure towards you than your own father. He obviously cares deeply for you.

His tangent goes on for another minute as he explains all the possible negative outcomes that could happen if you were to marry the bastard son.

“Maybe he’s not that bad,” you shrug. Neither of you has met Hoseok yet. It wouldn’t be smart to make judgments and create biases.

Yoongi gives you a tired look, and asks plainly, “would you rather marry charming prince or the frog?” 

“We haven’t met him yet. Don’t be so harsh on just him.”

Yoongi scoffs, rolling his eyes, “don’t get me started on Namjoon. I bet he has issues too.”

You’re beginning to feel another one of his long-winded rants coming along. You settle back into your cushioned seat and prepare to relax for your long journey as Yoongi begins his detailed explanation on why both of these men would never be good enough for his princess. It’s so detailed you feel like he had this speech prepared beforehand. 

—

You arrive at the kingdom at dawn just as the yellow sun peeks over the horizon, casting everything in its golden hue. The warm smile, as dazzling as the rising sun, you’re greeted with when you ascend the long steps up to the entrance comes as a surprise. 

Namjoon stands at the entrance, dressed in his formal attire, dark hair pushed out of his forehead to reveal his stunning beauty. You almost trip up the steps, distracted by his dimpled smile.

Beside Namjoon is a knight, dressed similarly to Yoongi, but in their kingdoms fiery red colors. He stands attentively by Namjoon’s side, watching as you and Yoongi approach.

“It’s good to see you again.” Namjoon’s forced greeting comes out strained and far away. 

It’s those few words that make you realize he’s only smiling because he has to. He’s smiling because he can’t show his true feelings in front of you. It’s not hard to understand why especially knowing all that’s happened.

Namjoon even forgets his kingdom’s customary chaste kiss on the cheek because of how distracted he is. So when you lean towards him and he makes no indication to react, you awkwardly pull back to your place besides Yoongi. 

“You too,” you reply, offering a close-lipped smile. His mind is elsewhere, and you don’t blame him for his robotic actions. “How is your father doing?”

Your question slips out without much thought, bringing him back to reality. You only realize your error once a glaze forms in his eyes. 

Does he still call the king his father after finding out the truth or does it hurt too much to think about the years of lies? 

“I apologize,” you bow your head, ears burning from embarrassment, “I shouldn’t have asked.”

“It’s alright. But my father is doing fine for now. His condition hasn’t gotten better, but it isn’t deteriorating.”

Nodding, you feel the awkwardness begin to settle like thick smoke.

Yoongi interjects with his blunt statement, “the other one isn’t here. Isn’t he a prince now too? It’s rude of him to not come to greet you. No wonder they call him a bastard.”

“My apologies.” Namjoon bows his head. “I would’ve liked to introduce you to Hoseok, but he isn’t feeling very well.”

You’re almost glad Namjoon interrupted Yoongi so he wouldn’t go off on another rant. But it’s regretful to hear about Hoseok. You’re wondering when you’ll get the opportunity to meet him. Hopefully, he isn’t as dreadful as Yoongi’s vivid imagination paints him out to be.

Namjoon rises from his bow and his eyes catch something behind you. The sound of hooves and wheels squeaking tell you another carriage has arrived. You turn to see the door being opened and two men step out.

“The advisors are here, your highness,” Namjoon’s guard says. “It’s time to go.”

Namjoon lets out a helpless sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose, ”thank you, Jungkook. Please, escort the princess to her room.”

Namjoon bids you a quick farewell, promising to speak with you again soon and then descends the stairs to greet the two officials. 

As Namjoon ordered, Jungkook leads you into the lavishly decorated castle with Yoongi following in flank. The castle’s grand exterior could never compare to the wonders on the inside. 

The floor is lined with white marble and gold accents covering the entire wall. Statues of gods and goddess carrying candelabras stand in the hall facing the windows and the rising sun. 

This castle is much more extravagant than the one you grew up in, even Yoongi eyes the decor in absolute amazement. 

Once you arrive at your designated room deep in the castle, so deep you wonder how you’ll ever find your way back to the entrance, Jungkook takes his leave with a silent bow and gracious smile before you can even thank him. 

“If you end up despising your husband it won’t be hard to avoid him in a palace as big as this,” Yoongi states, once Jungkook is out of hearing. He opens the door for you and the inside is just as well-decorated as the rest of the castle. 

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

The more and more Yoongi speaks, you find yourself growing anxious over this whole situation. What will you do when they finally chose their king? What if you can never learn to love your husband as Yoongi imagines? Doomed to live a miserable life, avoiding your husband and wishing you could flee.

You step into the room with drooping shoulders and grim face, hidden from Yoongi. Even if he can’t see you, he can sense your distress. 

“I just…” he sighs heavily, resting a gentle hand on your shoulder to make you face him. Yoongi makes sure you’re looking him in the eyes before continuing. “Don’t want you to be let down or hurt in the end. That’s all.”

You know how much he cares and he doesn’t say this to harm you, he’s just worried. 

You reach out to pull him into a hug, clinging to him as you relieve all of your worries in his arms. 

“Thank you, Yoongi.”

—

It’s already past noon by the time you fully settle in. Unfortunately, you knew your time with Yoongi had to come to an end before dusk approached. He had other matters to attend to back in your own kingdom, but he entrusted your care to the knights here, threatening to return with a vengeance if you are ever harmed under their watch. 

It was a tearful farewell and watching Yoongi depart on his horse, only made you want to return to your room to wallow. Now you have no one. No one to confide in or feel at home with. But you aren’t going to let yourself get caught up in these feelings and isolate yourself.

With Namjoon busy all day in his meetings and still no sign of this mysterious first son, Hoseok, you spend your time alone wandering the castle and exploring the gardens. All the hedges have been perfectly trimmed, the grass cut and immaculate, not a weed in sight. 

Just over the hedges, you spy a group of knights sparring, armor gleaming under the sun each time they move to strike each other with their swords, clashing metal against metal. They go back and forth with one another like an intricate dance. 

Your legs unconsciously carry you towards the action. 

The knights who aren’t sparing, stand idly to the side of their made-up battleground, some bow to you as you approach. They don’t seem to mind your intrusion, much more interested in the two in the middle who continue to clash swords. 

“Good morning, your highness,” one of the knights greet. “How are you doing? I hope our prince, Namjoon, isn’t too busy, but you’ll have to forgive him. With the King’s health declining rapidly there are lots of things to be done.” 

You understand that Namjoon is busy with the revelation of his adoption and grieving over his father’s condition. It can’t be helped. However, you wish he would invite you to come along on his meetings so you can have time together. Even if you won’t be speaking much to one another, at least you’d be in his presence and learn more about him as a potential leader. You might be marrying him soon, yet you know nothing about each other. 

During your time wandering you spoke to his staff and heard them go on about how much of a gentleman and wonderful person he is, and you don’t doubt them, but you’d like to experience that kindness yourself. It might be foolish to dream, but you’d like to actually be in love with the man you might marry.

“I’ve been good, thank you. I know Namjoon has been busy but I’ve been busy exploring the castle.”

“Well, you stumbled out into the training yard just in time! Sparring is always so much fun to watch.” The knight smiles, his eyes turning into crescents. 

“Enough, enough! Are you trying to kill him, Hoseok?” 

You’re brought back to the knights sparing, between your conversation with the knight and your thoughts, one of the knights managed to get his opponent on the ground, sword to his throat and cutting just enough for blood to pool. 

You didn’t notice it before, being so absorbed in your conversation with the knight, but the man on the ground is Jungkook, the guard who you met earlier.

And they called the other one Hoseok. Could the man sparing be the king’s son? He doesn’t look sick like Namjoon claimed he was.

Jungkook grimaces, trying to shift away, but the sword follows his throat. 

“Trying to kill him?” Hoseok, standing above him, muses, pulling the sword away and driving it into the grass close to Jungkook’s head. “This was just for fun.” 

Jungkook lies still for a moment, stunned by the proximity of the blade to his face. Even you had frozen for a second when Hoseok drove the blade in the dirt, afraid he would purposefully strike Jungkook. 

Glistening with a sheen of sweat as he turns his head to face the others gathered around, Hoseok spreads his arms as if presenting himself for a challenge. 

“Who’s next? I can do this all day,” he boasts jokingly.

“I think they need you back to work in the kitchen, Hoseok,” the knight you were speaking to says, jerking his head towards the castle.

Back to work in the kitchen? If this is the Hoseok everyone is gossiping about, why is he not like Namjoon and swamped with royal duties? He’s eligible to become king, but he’s here bantering with knights and sparring. 

“Well, this was fun, boys.” 

Hoseok moves off Jungkook, offering a friendly hand to pull him up. Jungkook accepts Hoseok’s hand and stands, dusting off the dirt staining his pants after being roughly forced to the ground. 

“Jungkook, go get cleaned,” their captain commands, then he gestures toward the knight you were talking to. “Jimin, you’re next.”

“It was fun, princess,” Jimin says, hand moving to unsheathe the sword at his hip. “If you ever need an escort around the castle, feel free to find me. I’m usually out here training or in the kitchen. They make the best cookies there.”

You smile at the generous offer, “thank you, Jimin. Maybe I’ll take you up on that offer soon!”

No one else is going to show you around. Namjoon surely isn’t with his busy schedule. You’d be thrilled to become friends with Jimin. 

He waves you goodbye and meets his next sparring partner on the field. You watch as they ready themselves before their captain yells for them to begin. Swords once against clash. 

Hoseok approaches you and you’re just about to wave hello, but he passes by without a second glance. Your hand awkwardly moves to fiddle with the pearls around your neck as you turn to watch him stride toward the castle. He pulls off his armor and leaves it to the side near the bushes and then enters through the service entrance.

Maybe he just didn’t see you. Though in a crowd of knights all wearing their armor and you in a simple pink dress, it would be hard not to notice. You’d like to introduce yourself anyway. You finally want to meet the man everyone has been whispering about. You want to prove Yoongi’s theory about him wrong.

You lift your skirts and begin heading toward the same door Hoseok just went through.  

“Uh, excuse me, princess!” 

You stop walking when you hear someone call out to you, the galloping of horse’s feet also grows close. When you spot the man riding on a brown horse he’s already dismounted and walking toward you, reigns in hand. He isn’t dressed up in any formal attire and smells faintly of the stables.

He bows, taking the brown cap off his head, fluffy dark hair spilling out, and clutching the hat to his chest. His hair is in disarray as he straightens himself, putting the cap back on neatly to cover it.

“Sorry to bother you, princess. I overheard that the crown prince is looking for you in his office. I just thought I’d let you know even though it’s not my official job,” he shyly chuckles, “my name is Taehyung. I’m the stable boy.”

The horse by his side neighs as if also saying hello.

“Ah,” Taehyung adds, patting the horse’s back. “and this is Yeontan.”

“It’s nice to meet you both,” you grin, reaching out to stroke Yeontan’s snout. “I should go see Namjoon then.”

Introducing yourself to Hoseok will just have to wait. You don’t want to keep Namjoon waiting. You wave goodbye to Taehyung and head towards the other castle entrance. 

—

Once you arrive at Namjoon’s office, after getting lost a few times and asking a maid for directions, you knock on the door twice. Inside you hear his tired, gravelly voice telling you to come in. 

As you enter, you see the office is cluttered with books and papers. Every surface is filled with official documents or texts you can hardly find a place to put your foot without stepping on anything. 

The mess almost reflects the chaos that must be going through his head. His whole future of becoming king has fallen apart right before his eyes and there’s nothing he can do about it. Also, dealing with his father’s illness, and coming to terms with the truth of being adopted must have him in a lot of stress. Work seems to be his only distraction away from it all.

The fountain pen in Namjoon’s hand spins between his fingers as his eyes concentrate on the papers laid out on his desk. He only glances at you briefly, offering you a tired smile, before going back to staring at the work in front of him. 

“I was thinking after my meeting tomorrow we could go into the town and I could show you around personally.”

“Oh, you don’t have to if you’re too busy!” 

You don’t want him to feel obligated to spend time with you. He has enough to do already. You’d just feel guilty for taking him away from any important business he has to deal with. 

“You’re a guest in my kingdom and who knows, if fate allows it, we might be married. I’d like to get to know you better.” 

 He looks into your eyes causing your pulse to begin racing. He’s just so charming you can’t help but get flustered.

“Mmh,” you blush, averting your gaze to the floor. “Yes, I’d like that.”

“Perfect. I look forward to spending time with you tomorrow. I’ll see you tonight for dinner.” 

That seems to be the end of the conversation and your cue to exit as he picks his pen back up and begins marking his papers again. 

You shift your feet, averting your gaze to the floor to ceiling window which has a perfect view of the setting sun coating the garden in a wash of orange, hoping to say more. Maybe you shouldn’t bother Namjoon, but you can’t help but want to talk to him. 

“Um, may I ask what you have planned for tomorrow?” 

Namjoon hums in thought, looking back up at you and pressing the tip of his pen against his plush lips, “I think a stroll through town and a picnic would be very romantic.”

Your cheeks burn at the word romantic, a suppressed smile playing on your lips. You nod without a word, afraid if you speak your voice will give away how thrilled you are.

“Thank you. Goodbye,” you squeak, quickly curtsying and turning on your heels to exit.

You scurry out of Namjoon’s office. So giddy with excitement for what’s to come tomorrow you don’t notice the figure turning the corner carrying a tray. You two roughly collide with one another. Your shoulder knocks the silver platter out of his hands. The contents of the tray fall over and smash against the floor. Piping hot tea and shards of broken glass scattered across the immaculate marble. 

“I’m so sorry!” You apologize, crouching down to pick up the large pieces of a shattered porcelain teacup. 

The person you ran into tsks, crouching beside you to help clean up. “Damn it, watch where you’re going next time.”

 “I’m sor-” You look up and realize you’ve run into Hoseok, the king’s biological son, the man you saw sparring on the field. His dark hair is pushed out of his face, allowing you to see his downturned brows, clear frustration painting his features.

You’re just about to finally introduce yourself when you feel a sharp pain prick your finger. You yelp and drop the glass back onto the floor when you realize you’ve just cut yourself with it.

“You’re really clumsy,” Hoseok sighs, grabbing your injured hand and inspecting the cut. Your blood seeps from your finger and drips onto the floor. You wince when he envelopes your hand in his. “It’s not that bad. Come on let’s bandage it up.”

Hoseok holds your hand in his and drags you down the hall, abandoning the shards of glass for someone else to deal with.

“I’m really sorry for bumping into you.”

“Stop apologizing to me.”

“S-” You stop yourself from apologizing again by clamping your mouth shut. 

You trail behind him, staring at his back. He’s dressed in black like most of the servants, not the finely tailored suits Namjoon dresses in. 

You thought Hoseok would be similar to Namjoon, stressed about discovering the truth and his new title as the king’s illegitimate son, but he’s out training with the knights and delivering tea instead. He’s still remaining in his role as the maid’s son. 

“You’re Hoseok, right? T-The king’s son?” 

Hoseok tenses, the grip on your hand tightening. You wince from the pressure it puts on your cut. Hearing the soft cry, his hand relaxes again.

“So what?” He answers dismissively, pulling open a narrow service door.

You glance to the floor, thinking of what to say. It’s clear he doesn’t like being addressed as the king’s son. “Um, I just wanted to introduce myself to you after I saw you sparring earlier. You were really impressive.”

“Yeah, I saw you out there.”

“Really? I thought you didn’t notice me when you walked by.” He must've been busy and wanted to get back to the kitchen quickly, you think to yourself. It’s reasonable that he couldn’t stop to say hello if that was the case.

“I just didn’t care.”

“Oh…” You murmur, defeated. 

You didn’t think Hoseok would be so blunt, a little rude too. You don’t understand why he already seems to dislike you when you’ve only just met. What if Yoongi was right? 

Your pace behind him lags and he takes notice, turning around to see your frown.

“Don’t look so glum,” Hoseok says, using his free hand to pinch your cheeks up in an attempt to make you smile. “They’ll think I made you sad.”

But he did make you sad. However, you wouldn’t want the staff to see you upset. It wouldn’t make such a good first impression. 

“I’ll try not to,” you nod, attempting to put a smile on your face.

His gaze lingers on your fake smile, frowning slightly, but shakes his head free of his thoughts and pulls open the doors to the hectic kitchen. 

Inside the staff is in full swing preparing dinner for tonight. The chefs and sou chefs work in tandem, calling out to one another, but that abruptly stops when the doors shut behind you and everyone’s attention is on you—mainly Hoseok. 

Their eyes linger on him, unsure and hesitant as they wonder what to do or say. Do they bow to their new prince or casually say hello to the man they’ve worked with for years as if he were anyone else?

Tension builds as Hoseok drags you towards the back of the kitchen and they idly stand by. Hoseok ignores them, staring straight ahead without a care, similar to the way he ignored you outside. He must be used to the states by now.

“Princess! You’re here!” The familiar voice of Jimin calls to you, breaking the uncomfortable silence. You see him waving at you while leaning against a countertop covered in flour with cookie dough resting on trays. He has a stack of freshly baked ones in his hand and happily continues to munch on them. 

Life slowly returns to the kitchen in hushed whispers when Hoseok lets your hand go to search for the bandages and you approach Jimin with your hand behind your back. You don’t want him to worry if he sees your cut. 

“You found your way here and with Hoseok too. I’m surprised you've managed to warm up to him already.”

“Warm up? I don’t think he likes me very much,” you sigh, glancing back at Hoseok who’s crouched down and rummaging through a cabinet. 

Jimin takes another bite out of his cookie, offering you some from the stack in his hand. You excitedly accept one and take a bite, savoring the chewiness and sweet taste of the chocolate.

“Oh, he’s always that way with royals. He’ll come around once he gets to know you. But he’s been even more on edge ever since the king's confession. Truthfully, we’re all a little confused about what’s happening or what to do.” Jimin looks toward Hoseok, an empathetic look on his face. “Hoseok says he’s fine and he doesn’t want the truth to change anything.”

You both look at Hoseok still looking through the cabinet, an annoyed look on his face as he struggles to find what he’s looking for. A staff member comes to his aid, but he shoos them off. He continues to rummage until he reaches his arm far back to grab the box.

Hoseok begins walking towards you both while searching the contents for what he needs.

It’s obvious that many of the staff are having difficulties adjusting to Hoseok’s new title from the silence that drowned the room when he walked in. It must be hard to continue his life normally, you can understand why he seems to be frustrated.

“Is that why he’s still serving tea?”

Jimin nods, solemnly. “Since he’s a royal now, we do as he says and if he wants to continue serving tea or sparring with us we let him.”

“Does that also mean you let me win sparring matches on purpose?” Hoseok muses, moving beside you, carrying the bandages for your cut.

“You won sparring matches before everyone knew you were a prince,” Jimin mutters sourly, turning his head away with a pout. 

Hoseok’s smile turns from playful to a cold empty expression at the mention of prince, but says nothing, letting the commotion of the kitchen drown out the conversation. He turns to you, taking your hand without asking and begins cleaning up your wound with a wet cloth. 

“Are you alright, princess?!” Jimin gasps when he sees your injured hand, brows knitted together with worry. “How did that happen?”

You smile to reassure him. “Just a little accident. You don’t have to worry about me.”

“It’s my job as a knight to worry about your wellbeing, princess,” Jimin says, continuing to wear a face of concern, watching Hoseok work.

Jimin reminds you of Yoongi. Always worrying about the smallest things. It’s comforting to have someone familiar around and you’re glad you met Jimin today. 

Hoseok’s hand gently wipes around the cut, cleaning off any blood left. As curt as he is speaking to you, he’s gentle with your injury.

You watch his tense expression as he works. You’re wondering what he’s thinking. After your short talk with Jimin, you wonder how he really feels about his true birthright? Is he really fine like he’d like to convince everyone? 

You’d certainly feel betrayed by the king for keeping a secret of such magnitude. How does he look Namjoon in the eye knowing everything Namjoon has should’ve been his?

Someone bursts through the doors right then, calling out, “Incoming, Hoseok! It’s the advisors again!” 

You recognize the voice as Taehyung, but before you can check to see if you’re right, Hoseok grabs your wrist.

“You’re gonna have to run, princess.”

“Huh?”

Hoseok gathers all your first aid in one hand and with the other wrapped tightly around your wrist drags you out of the kitchen through the service hall just as two officials, the pair from this morning, come through the other door from the dining room.

One of them desperately pleads, “your highness, please stop avoiding this! Someone catch him!” 

You lift up your skirts and try to keep up with Hoseok as he dashes down the hall with you in tow, pushing open unfamiliar door after door to escape the royal officials hunting him down. 

They must be the same advisors that held a meeting with Namjoon earlier today. 

Even when your steps falter his grip on you never wavers, occasionally turning his head to check that you’re able to keep up.

As you both turn a corner, you spot Namjoon emerging from a room, books stacked in his arms and the other hand holding a porcelain teacup. Your rapidly approaching footsteps alert him and he looks up over the rims of his dark-framed glasses, surprised to see you hand in hand with Hoseok dashing through the halls. 

You manage to catch his eye, offering a small weary smile as you go by.

He stands stunned, unable to say much but utter your title under his breath in confusion, and watches you pass by in a flurry with your pink skirt breezing behind you. 

You’d like to stop and greet him properly, but with Hoseok adamant to flee with you in tow, you doubt he’d like to stop and chat with Namjoon.

With your eyes focused behind you on Namjoon, you lose your balance in your heels, making you stumble out of them. You try your best to slip them back on quickly, but Hoseok’s sharp command for you to hurry forces you to leave them behind. You glance back seeing your white shoes lying on the ground with Namjoon standing just a few feet away still lost in his confusion. 

“H-Hoseok, can we stop running?!” You let out an exasperated breath. You’ve already lost a pair of shoes and you’re sure the officials have stopped chasing him.

He pushes open one last door, swinging you into the room and shutting the door behind him. He presses his forehead against the door, breathing heavily. 

You’re out of breath but as you observe the room, with its large glass ceiling, revealing the glittering night sky and crescent moon, you look up in awe almost forgetting to breathe. It’s difficult to look away from the sight of a thousand stars in the sky all twinkling brightly. You almost want to reach out and touch them.

“Wow,” you sigh, marveling at the night sky.

Hoseok ignores your wonder, muttering curses about the officials under his breath. 

“Sit down over here. I’ll finish putting on your bandages.” 

Hoseok moves toward the couch. You sit beside him offering your hand and he begins cleaning your wound again. The focused expression returns as he begins to apply healing cream on your cut.

Your cheeks begin to burn in the silence. Nothing but the ticking pendulum clock fills the room.

“You really didn’t have to help me. I could’ve done it myself.”

“Knights never abandon anyone who’s injured and neither will I,” he responds automatically, his eyes unwavering from his task. 

Although you know he’s just a servant, Hoseok seems to spend most of his time with the knights. He seemed close with Jimin and really enjoyed sparing with the knights. He looked so proud just being around them and wearing their uniform. You begin to wonder if he has any desire to become one himself. He has the skill and the heart for it. 

But now that he’s considered a royal they’d never allow him to put himself in harm's way and become a knight, and they certainly wouldn’t be okay with him continuing to be a servant. That must be what those court advisors were chasing him about. 

“Are you okay with all of this?”

You ask because you’re curious about his thoughts on possibly becoming king, but you also ask because you’re worried about the facade he might be putting on in front of others. Jimin told you that Hoseok tells everyone he’s fine but is he really? Does he accept the truth of his royal blood so easily? 

Hoseok looks into your eyes and grimaces. He releases your hand and stands up abruptly, gazing at the floor.

“I don’t need your pity,” Hoseok murmurs. “Don’t be so kind to me just because I’m suddenly the king’s son. If I were nothing more than a servant, you wouldn’t even look in my direction.”

“That’s not true,” you object. You aren’t as shallow as he thinks you are. You aren’t pretending to care about his feelings just because of his status. He’s just as human like you with feelings and you’d like to be someone he can trust and confide in. Bottling up his feelings would only make things worse.

“Just forget it,” he brushes it off, turning away once again. “I’m nothing to you, okay?”

“Hoseok…”

You can feel something in you nearly break from his soft-spoken whisper. He isn’t nothing. You want to find a way to convince him otherwise.

The door opens cutting the moment short, revealing the two court officials from earlier and surprisingly, Namjoon standing beside them as well. In his hands are the shoes you had left behind in your haste.

Hoseok scans the three standing in the doorway. Finally, his eyes settle and narrow on Namjoon.

“Your highness, please let us speak to you,” one of the officials beg.

“Don’t call me that,” Hoseok groans, then points his finger at Namjoon who looks to the floor. Namjoon refuses to make eye contact as Hoseok lets out his frustrations. “Why don’t you speak to him? He’s the crown prince. He’s the one the king chose to rule.”

“It’s not that simple anymore, your highness, you know that,” the second official speaks up in a more serious tone. “And if you continue to run, we won’t hesitate to call the knights to restrain you.”

Hoseok, visibly angered by the officials’ threat, lowers his hand, clenching it into a fist. He looks as if he wants to retort, scream at them to leave him alone. Instead, he stays silent and stares off to the side, neither refusing or agreeing to go with them.

Namjoon looks toward you, politely offering his hand, “Why don’t we go somewhere else and let them have their discussion in private?” 

You look between Namjoon’s outstretched hand and Hoseok’s furious expression, conflicted on what you should do. 

CHOICE: stay with Hoseok or go with Namjoon

—

PLEASE DON’T FORGET TO CHOOSE HERE!

REMINDER: your choices may affect your relationship with the characters. Please vote wisely :)

[libra-kirishima]

So you know the last headcanons you did for Nejire ? Can you please make a fanfic out of it ? It was so cute and awesome ❤️

You bet the fuck I can. And it's long as all hell, because I don't know how to stop, so it's gotta be split into multiple parts.

I love my wife!! Thank you for requesting this.

(A link to the headcanons that inspired this fic)

(A link to part two)

-

A single lily, baby pink in colour and prettier than any lily she had ever seen before sat at her desk. A ribbon in the same colour as the flower was wrapped around the stem into a beautiful bow, with a hole-punched notecard attached.

Heard you liked lilies.

Hope this smile as much as you make me smile.

She hadn't seen who had left it for her, but she desperately wished she had. Especially as the months continued, and at least once a week she would find flowers of all different types and colours left somewhere she would find them. By the time two months had passed, there had been nineteen. Four at her desk in homeroom, four in her locker, three taped to her dorm room, and eight in her gym locker before hero training.

"So they have to have training the same period as you, right?" Yuyu reasoned, looking over the handwriting.

Congrats on being crowned the most beautiful girl at UA.

Of course, I already knew you were, but I'm thrilled everyone else is starting to recognize it.

Another quick scan of the handwriting to one specific conclusion. "Hey, 'jire," Nejire's eyebrows raised. "The handwriting looks kinda... feminine? And they have access to the girl's locker room, so mayb-" Yuyu stopped once she saw her best friend's face shift to convey clear worry. She had a good idea about what was going through her head. She was her best friend. What kind of best friend didn't know the sort of things their best friend was going through. She seire she had a sixth sense dedicated solely to Nejire.

Though she decided to leave it alone. That's something Nejire needs to work through on her own, she decided.

-

The next big moment in Nejire's investigation came by total accident.

Less an accident of her own and more of a beginner's mistake on the behalf of her peer and Big 3 counterpart, Mirio Togata.

"Mirio?"

"Oh, hey!" He called cheerfully, before recognizing how much he fucked up. He dashed the flowers behind his back, taking the time to regret every second he's been alive in the time Nejire spends staring him down with curious eyes. "Uh, what are you doing here?" He chuckled nervously, immediately coming to regret his choice of those words in that order.

"This is my room." She answered. Nejire tried to peek what was behind his back, but the fact that he kept turning them away from her, and the sheer size difference he had on her made it nearly impossible. She did, however, catch a familiar glint of various shades of green. "Were you the one leaving me all those flowers?" She asked. She didn't know why she sounded disappointed, or how she could be disappointed in the outcome when she had no idea who was behind them in the first place, but she felt her face fall as he nodded.

"I was," He answered, though before Nejire could state how she just didn't feel the same way, he elaborated on his answer. "But they aren't from me. I'm just the delivery man." Nejire felt the hope and curiosity rise back within her.

"Why you?"

"Because I'm the only person who can sneak into places and leave them there without you noticing or getting suspicious."

"Oh," She nodded, applauding the person behind these flowers for being so smart about this. "Wait, have you been sneaking into the girl's locker room?"

"Nah, that's all them." He chuckled. "I mentioned you were having a bit of a rough week, so they gave me this and asked me to leave it somewhere you would see. I was going to leave it on your dresser so when you got back to your dorm at the end of the day you'd see these and maybe feel better." He finally pulled them from behind his back to reveal to Nejire a huge bouquet with white Jasmine and the biggest, most beautiful lilies she'd ever seen. She gasped out loud at the sight of them, feeling her heart rate speed up as Mirio put them in her hands.

"Well, I'll be going."

"Wait, Togata!" She caught his wrist before he had the chance to flee. "Who is it?"

"That's confidential information, Hadou." He joked. "She's already gonna tear me apart for getting caught by you."

"She?" Nejire wondered, only realizing afterwords that she was thinking out loud. Mirio cringed, realizing that he let his friend down, and far worse than either of them had expected.

"Fuck."

-

"Yuyu..." Nejire called out in a tired daze. They were having a sleepover in the form common room, and finally decided to call it a night after four consecutive hours of Netflix binging.

"Yeah?"

"I think the person that sends me those flowers is a girl." She stated drowsily. It had been about two weeks since she had seen Mirio outside her door delivering these flowers for her on behalf of a friend of his. A female friend, apparently.

"I had a feeling." Yuyu stated simply. They stayed silent for a good while, with only the sounds of their breathing being left for Nejire to think about. She wanted to think about anything but the person behind those flowers. "Are you, uh... Are you, like, into that?"

"Like into girls?" Nejire asked in return. She felt a knot develop in her throat, still with no idea why.

"Yeah..." More silence filled the atmosphere. Even in the pitch blackness, she could feel Nejire's tension. "You know, 'jire... There's nothing wrong about it either way." Nejire hummed in thought. She attempted to swallow the lump in her throat before she spoke.

"Y' sure?"

"Yeah. Whether you're into boys or girls or both or neither, you're still my same Nejire. And if you start to think one thing but you find out somewhere along that path that you were wrong, then there's nothing wrong with that either. It's normal, it's healthy, and it's a natural part of figuring out who you are."

"It is?"

"Yeah, of course it is. I didn't always know I was gay."

"But I thought that was a thing..." She mumbled.

"Huh?"

"Like when you talk to lesbians they're like 'I always have known I liked girls... I've never liked guys... I've been in love with girls since elementary school. I never ever had a doubt about it ever, and this is something I've known my entire life.'" Yuyu giggled at the way Nejire's voice raise as she was voicing her nameless lesbian.

"Well sure, there are some that are like that, but it isn't every time. In fact, I think more often than not girls that like other girls have a hard time recognizing it because they don't really know that they can feel that way about girls. Coming from a bisexual woman, I feel like girl crushes feel really different from crushes on guys, because there's like a societal thing with the way boys and girls behave and typically girls are just... Supposed to be friendly and sweet in terms of, like, societal gender roles? That's a discussion for a different time, but the fact of the matter is that men and women just generally act different. So because at the most basic level your brain is in this mindset of how men and women do these different things, it can be hard to process sometimes that the feelings you have towards girls are crushes and not just wanting to be someone's friend or thinking someone is too cool for you." Nejire nodded, thinking over her best friends words for a long while. A soft hum finally escaped her throat. "What's going through your head?" Yuyu questioned.

"Yuyu..."

"Hm?"

"Yuyu, I think I might be a lesbian..."

-

You went to place another flower on Nejire's desk before class started, but found a folded slip of paper already present, with a lily drawn in pink glitter pen. Against your own better judgement, you picked it up, unfolding the paper and reading its contents.

If you're reading this, and you're the person who's been leaving me flowers, please meet me outside of the northern courtyard entrance at 6:00 p.m. tomorrow. ❤

- Hadou Nejire

(And if you're reading this and you're not the person who's been leaving me flowers, this note isn't for you. Please fold it back up and return it where you found it. Thank you.)

-

"Should I go?"

"I don't know, (Y/N)."

"What do you mean you don't know?" You whined, flopping yourself down onto his bed right beside him. "You're supposed to provide the voice of reason here. It can't be my job all the time." You pulled one of the pillows from his bed over your face and let out a long muffled groan. Once you pulled the pillow from your face, you saw a pair of dark blue button eyes staring back at you from directly above you.

"Now you're just being ridiculous."

"Probably."

"I think you should go meet her. What's the worst that could happen?"

You paused, taking time to think over every possible worst-case scenario. "You're ovethinking and I can tell you are. Stop that." He scolded. He continued to speak while he returned to doing his homework. "The worst thing that could happen is she rejects you, which sucks, yeah, and it'll hurt for a little while, but then it's over and you now know for sure whether she was into you. No more wasting your time." You pulled Mirio's pillow back to your face and muffled another long groan. He didn't speak again until he knew your ears were free. Words of encouragement seemed to be all he could provide. He watched you pull the pillow away from your face again, chuckling to see little daisies popping out between strands of your hair. "But I really think you should go meet her. Hadou's really been loving those flowers..."

"Yeah, I guess, but she's gonna be disappointed when they come from a sad lesbian instead of the man of her dreams."

"She might as well be writing you 'hey, if you like Piña Coladas and gettin' caught in the rain, meet me!' and I can't believe you're still debating it. Just go." You giggled at his Nejire impression, following it all with a heavy sigh. "The worst that could happen is rejection. She'll even let you down easy, but I'm willing to put 2000 yen on it right now that she won't. It'll be fine. You know how she is."

"Yeah, alright, I guess..."

-

"North courtyard entrance, North courtyard entrance, north courtyard entrance. Don't fuck this up. Six o'clock. Six p.m. What time is it now?" You stopped muttering to yourself to pull your phone out of your pocket and check the time. "5:53. Okay, I'm not going to be late. I still have some time. Don't fuck this up. Should I have brought something? Flowers? Is that overkill?" You stopped in place to debate with yourself over it. Two flower buds sprouted from the skin behind your jaw, wrapping over the shell of your ear as you grew more and more nervous. "I've gotta call Mirio..." With nervous hands, you scrambled to pull your phone from your pocket once more and dial his number while you still had time. He answered on the second ring.

"If you're calling me to say that you're not going because you chickened out, I'll go over there-" His voice grew softer. He was talking to someone in the room with him. "What? No, you have to come with me. Please? (Y/N) needs us, Tam- Yeah, us. Both of us. Me and you. Hadou needs us too. It's importa-"

"Mirio," You whined.

"Yeah? You can't change your mind last minute. You've come this far-"

"No, I'm gonna do it. I just had a question."

"Oh, what can I do for you?"

"Would bringing her flowers be overkill?"

"Nah, I don't think so."

"You don't?"

"No. If you're gonna meet her, might as well go big or go home. She'd appreciate it."

"I'm not really the 'go big' type. Actually, I wanna go home..."

"Nope, sorry. It's too late."

"Mirio, this is-"

"(Y/N)," He started faking static noises through the reciever. "You're breaking up-" more fake static. You swore you could hear Tamaki's voice ask him what he's doing. "I've gotta go-" fake static. "Call me back- I can't hear you- tell me how it goes." He hung up the phone.

"Dork." You grumbled. With a soft sigh, you lowered yourself to the ground, growing a decent bunch of baby pink lilies and cutting them at the base of the stem. "There. I'm identifyable, I'm presentable, I'm decent, I just need to assure I'm on time and I don't embarrass myself. No problem. No problem at all." You muttered. "What time is it anyways." You checked the time for what felt like the 16th time in the past ten minutes. "6:03." You nodded, slipping your phone into your pocket once more. Not even a moment later your brain finally processed that number's significance. "Shit, I'm late."

-

Nejire was waiting patiently when you spotted her, sat at the far edge of a bench with her legs crossed and her hands in her lap. She was out of her school uniform, wearing something bright and summery in its place, and her hair was up for once, with half of it in a bun at the top of her head and the other half down.

She looked beautiful.

No turning back now...

Careful steps were taken in her direction. You became hyper-conscious of every move your body made. All in the name of keeping from embarrassing yourself. She locked eyes on you as you drew closer. Time almost seemed to stop in that moment. Your body was still moving, but your brain was frozen in that moment. The way her hair blew in the breeze, with a few loose strands blowing across her face. The way her skin glowed in the light of the setting sun. How bright her smile became as her eyes moved from your face to the lilies in your hand, and back to you once again.

Her eyes.

So warm and inviting, and the most beautiful shade of blue you had ever seen.

It was easy falling in love with Nejire.

So easy that you did so from the first time you locked eyes with her.

-

Nejire would have never thought that the she would think so much about the sweet, bubbly, mystery girl from 3-B in her entire life. The competitor she'd lost against in the sports festival her first year, damaging her pride and bringing her to tears, now made her happier than she ever knew she could be with one person.

And yet there were countless nights where she would lie awake at the earliest hours of the morning, playing over the day's events with you, and dreaming of any possible way her time with you could continue. How she could take you out for dinner at this cute Italian restaurant downtown, and how you'd fight with her over who pays the bill. She'd end up taking it when you'd look away and handing it to the waitress with a smug smile on her face. It would be cold out when you finally step outside, and you probably wouldn't hesitate to remove your jacket around her shoulders. You'd insist to buy her desert since she payed for dinner, just like you did the last time she payed. And she'd quickly agree, wanting to spend as much time as she possibly could with you. She'd never want that night to end.

But of course, even in Nejire's fantasy it would have to end eventually. So you'd take her home, walk her to her door. She'd kiss you, and finally get to tell you what she'd been meaning to for months. The words she'd had on her mind since the day she met you in the courtyard. The words she's waited patiently to say since you first began dating.

"(Y/N), I love you."

Nejire sighed hopelessly, realizing she had gotten so lost in her own daydreams that she'd said those words aloud. If only she could finally bring herself to do it in person.

[succubused]

“Kiss me. Just once. For luck.” Akusai or LeaIsa for something happier.

*saïx voice* there’s no crying in football

.

.

.

“This seems like a bad idea.” Isa blinked at the small crowd that had gathered.

“It’s just sparring. It’s not a big deal.”

“Yeah, but you’ll get sulky when you lose.”

“Kiss me, then.”

Isa blanched.

“You—what?”

His cheeks were as red as his hair, but Lea met Isa’s eyes without flinching.

“I’m not subtle,” he said. “And you’re not stupid.”

“I—I don’t understand what this has to do with you sulking.” How did anyone function like this? He felt like his heart was about to take a rain check on running the show, and his brain certainly wasn’t doing him any favors, not with every coherent thought being drowned out by the blood pounding in his ears.

“Kiss me,” Lea repeated. “Just once. For luck. And then I won’t lose.”

Isa stared at him.

“Really,” he said after a moment. “You…really?”

Lea shrugged as though he had said he was thinking of going to get ice cream later rather than having expressed the desire to kiss his best friend. “Yep.”

“For how long?”

“Are you—do I need to take back what I said about you not being stupid?”

“Lea.”

“A while. I don’t know. Forever. For the last five minutes. Does it matter?” For the first time, a flicker of panic crossed his face. “I mean, if you don’t—”

“Oh, don’t be stupid,” Isa muttered, and before his nerve had the chance to think about fading he had darted forward to kiss Lea very lightly on the mouth. His skin was hot, he thought dazedly. Isa had known that, of course, it wasn’t like he’d never touched his friend before. But he’d never been that close. Certainly never close enough to kiss him. He had never kissed anyone, for that matter.

His heart still pounding, Isa watched as Lea stared at him in shock, then as his face split into an enormous grin that made him look almost like that stupid fireball on those frisbees he was always messing with. Well, he would have thought it was stupid were it anyone else. But it wasn’t, it was Lea, and half a breath later Isa had the same dumb smile on his face.

“Better not lose,” he said, a little breathlessly.

Lea glanced over at the boy he had challenged with an expression that was almost pitying. “Not on your life.”

“My hero.” Isa bumped him on the shoulder. “Go on. I’ll be here.”

“Do I get another one if I win?”

The boldness of it earned him a catlike smirk. As it turned out, kissing Lea had apparently done nothing to stop him from acting like Lea, which was oddly comforting.

“You’ll have to wait and see,” Isa said.

“Then I’ll see you in a minute—“

“—Saïx.”

“Be careful,” Saïx said without looking up. “It’s a snakes’ den in there. Or so I’m told.”

Axel knew that tone, the bitterness in his voice muffled to an extent that would have worked on anyone else. He folded his arms.

“Saïx,” he said again, sharper this time.

“You should get going.”

There was always a reason when someone so inclined to staring people down until they withered refused to make eye contact, or even turn to acknowledge he was being looked at.

“There’s no reason for you to be hanging around here,” Saïx continued, still speaking to the wall. “I have everything under contr—“

“Isa.”

He flinched.

“You sure you’re gonna be okay?”

And he thanked himself silently then, because he faced away from Axel, who did not see Saïx close his eyes briefly it what he would have easily and correctly interpreted as an expression of pain. All Axel saw was a gloved hand ball into a fist around the piece of paper he held, crumpling it beyond any hope of return to its original state.

“I’m sure that doesn’t concern you,” he said icily after a pause that lasted a little too long to be natural.

“Don’t be stupid.”

He hated that Axel was always doing that, echoing, speaking words that belonged to the dead. Some things should die and stay there, Saïx thought. He wished it didn’t feel so—but it didn’t, of course. It didn’t feel like anything. That was the whole point. The pit in his stomach was a memory. He knew that.

Zexion had explained it, somewhat dispassionately, how the mind missed the heart like a phantom limb, and would attempt to recreate the emotions it expected, a clumsy patchwork of memories and the clinging scraps of feelings long dead.

Long dead. How he wished they would agree to die like they had been meant to. It was worse than being empty in totality.

“Don’t be stupid,” Saïx repeated slowly. He glanced over and found that Axel was looking straight at him with an expression he had never seen before. He was also standing much closer than Saïx had thought.

“You chose a poor time to experience a resurgence of concern for my well-being,” he said finally.

“It isn’t a resurgence if it was never gone.”

“Right.”

“Isa—“

“Don’t call me that.”

“Fine. Saïx. Whatever. Will you look at me, please?”

Saïx closed his eyes again. He wanted nothing more and nothing less than to do so, and yet…

“I think it’s best if you just go.”

Axel was silent for a long moment, and Saïx almost started to wonder if he was going to comply. He wasn’t sure if that would be the best possible outcome, or that which he least wanted to see take place.

But Axel was still a faded version of Lea, and Lea still remembered. He looked out from behind the eyes of a ghost at the blue-haired head before him, slightly bowed, and he knew. The knowledge that he had been hurting Saïx, been hurting Isa, sunk into his chest like a knife.

The certainty that there was nothing he could say that would fix it was even worse.

He stared at Saïx’s back, overcome by the desire to do what he knew he could not, which was make it better, make him smile again, be the friend he needed. Give him back what he’d lost, and keep him safe this time. For a split second, Axel wanted nothing more than to stay.

Saïx opened his eyes when he felt the hand on his shoulder. He hadn’t been touched by another in a nonviolent manner in…had it been weeks? Months? Had the last person to do it been Axel too? He couldn’t remember. He didn’t want to remember. It made him want things he knew very well he could not have.

“If it really is a some kind of snake pit in there, then I’ll probably need all the luck I can get.”

It was the memory of a lump in his throat. It wasn’t real. He couldn’t cry. You need a heart to cry.

He hesitated, then placed his hand over Axel’s, and finally turned around to meet his eyes. Axel looked down at him with that odd expression again, the only one that Saïx couldn’t read. But there was something close to a smile dancing at the edges of his eyes.

“Ten years and you’re still using the same line,” Saïx muttered.

“Ten years and it still works on you.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but the words got lost on their way to his tongue when Axel’s hands cupped his jaw. He hadn’t seem him take his gloves off, but then again, he hadn’t been looking.

“Just once,” Lea said.

“Once is never enough,” Isa replied.

But even the moon, in her own way, is selfish; she loved the sun too much to let him stop shining, so she took his light for herself. The night will never have you, she said. You’re mine.

And it wasn’t.

It never was.

There had been countless kisses between that first hesitant moment and today, and Axel was still surprised by how cold and how soft Saïx was, the same way that Saïx had been and continued to be taken aback by the heat that came off of Axel’s skin. He leaned into it almost unconsciously, a muscle memory. Somewhere, deep down, Saïx had always wanted to be warm.

The softness of his lips was almost terrifying. It made Axel feel as though Saïx could shatter at any moment, tearing into pieces at the lightest touch. It was so antithetical to the aura he exuded, the way he looked and spoke and held himself. He had filed his edges razor-sharp because it didn’t matter how soft something was if you had to bleed in order to touch it. And yet it had never stopped Lea, and it certainly didn’t stop Axel.

Quite literally, on occasion. He paused for air and to wipe away the blood from his lower lip where Saïx’s teeth had broken the skin. Saïx chuckled, low and humorless.

“Oh, Isa,” Axel murmured, and this time there was no protest. He rested his chin on the crown of Saïx’s head and pulled him in close. They stood like that for a while, Saïx leaning against Axel’s chest with closed eyes, trying not to think about the creeping feeling that this was a more final goodbye than either of them had expected it to be.

“I’ll leave in the morning,” Axel said finally, and Saïx shook his head, but all resolve had temporarily fled the moment their lips had met. He figured, somewhat uncharacteristically, that he had earned the right to be a little selfish.

“What’s to become of us?” he asked, the edge of desperation in his voice no longer muted.

“Nothing good.” Axel paused. “But I don’t care. Not tonight.”

It was only the memory of how it felt to have tears prick the back of his eyes. That was all it was.

You need a heart to cry.

You need a heart to…

Isa laughed.

It was a wild sound, maybe one closer to a snarl than of amusement. Undeniably laughter, and undeniably coming from him as he swung down, smashing the twisted creature beneath to smoke in a single strike.

Kind of terrifying. And, Lea thought, if he was being completely honest with himself, pretty attractive, too.

When he met Isa’s eyes, they were glowing with something entirely different from the sick yellow light that had belonged to Saïx. The look on his face was fierce, nearly frantic, and his eyes focused over Lea’s shoulder a moment before catapulting himself over it to pulverize the Heartless bearing down on him. Lea had no idea how he managed such speed while swinging that massive thing around. It’s not like Isa was a particularly large man. The claymore was practically bigger than he was, and yet the leonine grace with which he handled it was in a class completely separate from anything Lea had seen from the other keyblade wielders.

He still wasn’t as fast as Lea, of course. But then again, no one was.

“Are we even now?” he called as he took out four of them with a concentrated explosion of flames. Blue flames? They’d never been blue before. Lea shook his head to clear his ringing ears.

Isa looked back over his shoulder. “Not even close.”

“Damn.”

“You could—Lea!”

But he had already swung out of the way with time to spare.

“Wish they still listened to me,” muttered Isa, considering the berserker Dusk that had failed to land the hit.

It was Lea’s turn to laugh with the rush that came with just knowing that he was faster, moving as he did like liquid, or maybe like smoke. He narrowed his eyes at his opponent, considering. Those things didn’t like fire, and luckily, fire liked him.

Isa had wondered, more than once, if the berserkers’ aversion to fire had come from the frustration with Axel that Saïx had been feeling at the time of their genesis. Had it been frustration? Resentment? Bitterness? Regardless of the nature of the thing, he remembered that fire had made him feel sick for months, ever since that which existed between them had started to crumple under the weight of betrayal, both perceived and actualized. Maybe that was it.

Or, Isa thought now as he looked at Lea, maybe it had just been that he’d missed him. And what an unexpected joy it was, to be able to use the past tense.

Lea picked his way over and looked at him with an odd expression. “Seems like a strange time to smile,” he said.

“I…” Isa shrugged, the smile widening to a grin. “I think I’m…happy.”

“Seems like a…weird place to be happy.”

Isa opened his mouth, thought for a moment, then closed it.

“What?” Lea waited. “Isa, what?”

“Nothing. Nothing, it’s—nothing.”

“Oh, hey, that’s not fair.”

“I almost said something very—don’t concern yourself.”

“What, you’re worried about what you say to me now?”

He laughed. “You have a point there.”

“And?”

Isa sighed. “Just that…any place is the right place to be happy when you’re there.”

Lea stared at him, dumbfounded. Isa was looking firmly at the ground, and he couldn’t tell if he was blushing or just still flushed from the fight. It was almost impossible to equate this with the man who had been laughing at the rush of violence earlier, and yet.

And yet.

Isa looked up at him somewhat sheepishly when Lea reached for his hand.

“You’ve got a weird idea of timing, you know that?”

“Well.” Isa chuckled. “Point of no return, right?”

“I think it’s sweet.”

“Oh, do you now?”

“Mhm.” His smile faded as he glanced up at the castle, and the path to it they were meant to be taking. “And…I’m not letting anything happen to you up there. Point of no return or not, you’re coming back in one piece. Got it memorized?”

“Got it—hmph.” Isa shook his head, smirking.

“If you think I’m letting you do anything reckless then you really are stupid.”

“Reckless?” He laughed again. “You’re calling me reckless?”

“I’m just saying—“

“I’ll make it out for you if you make it out for me. We went over this.”

Lea brushed the strands of hair that had come loose from his braid out of Isa’s face. It was holding up well, he thought. The plait had held just like he had told Isa it would when he offered to do it the night before. Isa had laughed a little at that, the smile breaking through the worry in his eyes.

“I remember,” he said finally.

And it struck him like a sledgehammer to the chest, how badly he wanted that worry to fade forever. He wanted Isa to smile and smile and say stupid romantic things and not flinch every time he was touched.

He had been through enough.

“If he tries to hurt you again,” Lea said softly, looking hard into Isa’s eyes, “I’ll eat his fucking heart.”

It was the closest thing to I love you Isa had ever heard Lea say out loud.

“You had better not kill him before I get the chance to kick his ass,” he said. “Or I’ll kick yours to make up the difference.”

“That’s fair.” Lea looked up. “We should probably…”

“Yes, we should.” He started forward, then paused. “Lea…”

“Yeah?”

“How lucky do you feel?”

Lea blinked. He looked down at Isa.

“Very,” he said, before taking Isa’s face in his hands the same way he always had and kissing him hard the same way he always had, his skin still too hot like it had always been.

Then Isa found himself kissing a smile, and it was the strangest thing in the world, to have it feel so natural to be this happy in the middle of a war zone.  

But it did, and they were. And they would be tomorrow, Isa thought, and the next day, and the next. He would make sure of that.

“Well, you know,” Lea breathed, “you could always use a little more luck.”

[singlebecauseofthechocobros]

Expecting (Gladio x Reader)

This was a request a friend of mine made in my ask but since its kind of long I decided to post it here instead. Here’s the prompt:

I got a good one for then. How about a play on his stubbornness and hardheadedness. You always see him willing to give everything to his S/O but what about the rest of his personality? Something to get in the way of what his love wants. She's always wanted children with him, he's completely against it because of his job and the danger that comes with it. Huge fight ensues, she shuts down and drops her wish. Until he sees her with a friend's baby and realizes he yearns for the same w/her. Enjoy!

by- @petitexreine 

Anyway enjoy! It it not completely like the prompt but I still hope you enjoy!  

Word Count: 3,054

A Tuesday

 Sitting in the dining room, you drummed your fingers along the table top as your leg bounced up and down. Fidgeting was helping in no way to calm your nerves and yet you couldn’t stop yourself from moving.

“How much longer,” you asked your friend Cindy, who was sitting across from you.

“It’s only been a minute-“

“Well then how long does it take?”

“At least two, hun.”

Cindy could tell you were nervous. Anyone could see that. Reaching across the table she placed her hand over yours and gave you a soft smile. It didn’t calm you any less but it was comforting to know she was there.

Time seemed to move slower than ever and the only sound you could hear was your thumping heart beating in your chest. You wondered if Cindy could hear your panic as she sat across with a concentrative look viewing the small white applicator sitting on the plate in front of her. You had asked her to announce the outcome of the test since you did not know if you could handle the results.

“Okay,” she said slowly, squinting her eyes at the applicator, “I see one line so far.”

“Don’t say ‘so far’,” you begged, “I need that to be the only line.”

Picking up the stick she held it up to the light, “You may get your wish I don’t see…”

“Don’t see what,” you asked, your voice barely making it out of your throat.

“Two lines…” she spoke slowly turning the applicator towards you. Sure enough another line was beginning to darken next to its fellow line.

You looked away and stood up, running your hands over your head, “It has to be a mistake, there is just no way.”

“Sweetie this was the third one you took,” Cindy spoke, pushing herself away from the table and walking over to you.

“Fourth times the charm right,” you asked quietly as your eyes began to well up with tears, “Maybe if we use a different brand...”

“Y/N,” Cindy cooed, placing her hands on your shoulders and looking you in the eyes, “You’re pregnant hun. All the tests will be the same and tell ya the same thing. You’re having a baby.”

“But I-I can’t have a baby. We’re living in darkness and resources are limited, how am I supposed to raise a child?”

“You say it like you’re alone in this.”

“He doesn’t even know I could be pregnant. I have no clue if he even wants kids and what if he isn’t happy about this w-what am I going to do…”

“Stop panicking,” Cindy cut in firmly, “Everything is going to work out. You need to breath and calm down.  Let’s focus on that and then talk about how to tell Gladdy.”

You nodded your head as Cindy pulled you into a tight hug. You leaned your head on her shoulder as tears rolled down your face.

How were you going to tell him? The discussion of starting a family had never been one that the two of you had had. It never seemed to matter to the both of you considered you did not plan on anything like this. But now in the situation you felt panic in your heart thinking about the life growing within you. How could you do this? How could the two of you be careless and bring another person into this dark world? Sure it had been four years since Noct’s disappearance but you had no clue when he would come back. Could be tomorrow or could be another couple years; you had no idea how long this evil in the world would reign. But you knew one thing: you had about seven months to prepare and figure everything out.

A Few Weeks Later

While there were plenty of bounties posted near Dave’s weapons truck, joining a group and leaving Leastallum was another problem all together. With Cindy being the only one who knew of your condition she watched you like a hawk, worried you would get reckless and wound yourself.

“You have to start watching out for that other life now Y/N. It isn’t just you who could get hurt anymore,” she would say whenever you were around. Her words played on repeat in your head. She was right you would have to be more cautious. On top of that you would have to eat healthier and keep yourself out of danger, which meant putting serious hunting gigs on the back burner for a while. Small hunts would be fine but taking down Behemoths was out of the question.  

So for the past couple weeks you helped Cid and Cindy with weapon improvements. They upgraded and you polished the finished pieces. They agreed to pay you what little they could given your circumstances but you were just grateful to keep your mind and hands preoccupied.

At the end of your days you arrived home just in time to make it to the bathroom. Your nausea came in waves but when it hit you were at its mercy. Thankfully Gladio had not seen your symptoms yet. If he had he would probably be able to put things together: loss of appetite, sickness, mood swings and even headaches. You managed to hide most them all pretty well but knew he needed to know; sooner rather than later.

Sooner came quicker than you anticipated when you were sitting on the couch curled up with him watching a movie you both had seen for the umpteenth time. He sat with his legs stretched out on the coffee table and his arm draped over your shoulders. You leaned into him with your head resting on his chest and your legs curled up underneath the blanked the two of your shared.

The scene in the movie was of a mother and daughter being reunited with a man who had been declared dead after a war. It was a tender moment full of cries of joy and happy smiles; a seemingly perfect family on display. Without thinking you placed a hand on your stomach, not even realizing your actions.

“Hey,” you whispered looking to Gladio.

Turing his head he gave you a small smile, “Hm?”

“Do you think you would want that,” you asked, pointing to the screen.

“What to come back from war and see my family in a cloud of tears and ugly crying faces?”

“Don’t be a smart ass,” you laugh, “I mean a family.”

He smiled and kissed the top of your head, “I already have my family.”

“Of course you have me,” you whispered, “but what about kids?”

The expression on his face contorted into a look of complete seriousness as the next word he muttered was a firm “No”.

“No?”

“No,” he repeated looking at you.

“Why not,” you asked, sitting up and turning to him.

“Why would I? Kids cry and shit themselves. I don’t want to have to give a kid all my time and I definitely don’t want to raise one in this world. You’d have to be stupid to want something like that. You would be even more irresponsible to have one.” You sat silently as he continued, “Besides I have no clue when Noctis gets back but when he does he is my first priority. I swore an oath and I can’t have a kid getting in the middle of that.”

“Oh so you can take an oath but a vow doesn’t mean anything to you,” you shot back, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Hey you knew when you said ‘I do’ that I made a promise to the crown. I can’t just ignore that tradition.” His expression was a little darker now as he looked at you. Irritation was radiating off of him.

“I never expected you to ‘ignore’ it but I figured you would still feel a little remorse having to leave me behind.”

“Well yeah of course I would,” he said, bits of frustration in his tone, “But why put that on a child. What happens if I don’t come back, how are you supposed to tell a kid that? Look I don’t want to argue, you asked and I am telling you I just don’t want kids.”

“And what if I want them? Does that not matter to you?” You were yelling a bit now, your voice higher than you meant it to go.

Standing up he shook his head and headed for the kitchen.

“Are you seriously walking away,” you asked, rising up to follow him.

“I’m done with this conversation,” he retorted angrily, still not turning to look at you.

“Well I’m not,” you shouted, grabbing a pillow and throwing it at his back.

At the contact he tensed up and slowly turned to you. His amber eyes were darker now and he was a fearsome sight to behold. You felt your heart beating furiously as you felt a rage over come you that you had never felt before. How could he look at you like this and treat you like a second choice?

“I already told you-,” he began slowly before you interrupted him.

“I heard what you said,” you yelled, “But what about me? “

“You-,” he started but was cut off again.

“What about what I want? What about my future? What about-,” you tried to finish but he had closed the space between you and was in your face now.

“Then you obviously picked the wrong guy,” he bellowed making you jump. The sudden outburst left you stunned and silent. You looked away from him as he maneuvered his way around you and across the living space, “I’m going for a walk. Don’t wait up.” With that he opened the front door and slammed it shut, making you jump and the pictured on the walls to rattle.

You took in a deep breath and released a sob. Grabbing onto a nearby chair you sat yourself down and cried into your hands. That had gone much worse than you had expected.

A Few Days Later

It had been days since you and Gladio had spoken to each other. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him since each time you did you were reminded of the unwanted bit in your stomach. You weren’t even sure what to do anymore. Should you get rid of it? Keep it and leave? There was no good outcome.

You stood at Iris’s shop and helped her fold clothes she had for sale. The two of you chit-chatted about trivial things as you tried to occupy your mind with other thoughts. As you were in the middle of conversing, a local hunter by the name of Gutsco approached the two of you.

“Hey Y/N I’m sorry to interrupt,” he began, “But I wanted to ask if you were interested in going on this hunt later this afternoon. It’s for an infected Karlabos nearby and we need one more person to make a team. You know they won’t let you leave the city without a certain amount of people.”

You nodded at him and glanced past him and towards Cid’s weapons station. Cindy did not appear to be around and you turned you attention back to Gutsco, “When do we leave?”

Afternoon

The hike from the camp was a little longer than you anticipated. You felt weaker than normal, most likely due to the life growing within you and stealing your energy for itself. Your head was beginning to pound as you sighed wishing for these side effects to go away. You grabbed onto your stomach and silently pleaded for the baby to let you feel alright and stop making you nauseous. “How can something the size of an olive make me feel so bad,” you muttered to yourself glancing down at your belly.

You did not tell Gladio you were going on a trip. You figured some time apart may do you both some good. It was only one night, what could happen?

Lost in your thought you nearly ran into the back of one of your other comrades, who had stopped moving. Looking past her you could see the large creature about fifty yards away. It was unaware of the groups presence, which was good.

Giving a signal, Gustco motioned for everyone to take their positions. Back at camp it had been decided that when in range, the hunters would encompass the creature and move in slowly, ultimately catching it off guard and disposed of quickly.

In theory this plan would have worked perfectly.

In actuality it failed miserably on account of the imps that were hiding in the bushes nearby and alerting the beast.

Everyone soon found themselves slightly outnumbered as they swung their swords mercilessly. You killed imp after imp and soon began to feel as though you were getting somewhere. Looking over to the Karlabos you glanced over your shoulder to Gutsco who just finished killing the last of his personal imp hoard. Giving him a solid nod, he raced over to you and sprinted past towards the creature. Unlike Gutsco who was given glaive powers, you were not so special. You carried a katana and fought hand to hand combat without any sort of warping or magical abilities. It was not a hindering sort of thing but it called for much more precaution than normal.

Swinging at the creatures legs you tried to wound them into submission. To your dismay, the armor covering the beast’s legs were solid. The creature turned quickly and lunged its pinchers at you, to which you rolled out of the way.

Going to stand you felt a pain in your stomach as you clutched your abdomen. Looking up you saw the creature coming at you again to which you avoided. Trying to stand you felt your legs give out as you kneeled to the ground. Your head began to pound as you felt a sickening feeling rush over your body. The creature turned to you and halted a moment before racing towards you and using its body to slam into you. You flew back a few feet and fell limp unto the ground, your subconscious fading into darkness just as the world had.

The Next Day

You awoke in a bed that wasn’t yours. The room smelled of sanitizer and you wearily glanced down to see a needle poking out from your arm. No one was around except for a person sitting in a chair near the entrance reading a book. He looked as he normally did; dress in black and his wild hair combed back. Stubble rested upon his face and dark circles had taken refuge under his eyes. He was drained.

“You look rough,” you mumbled, looking over to him. At the sound of your voice his head shot up and he was out of his chair and rushing to your side.

“Hey,” he whispered sitting on the bed next to you, his hand cupping your face. You placed your hand over his and leaned into him. It had only been a couple days of silence but you had missed him.

“How are you feeling,” he asked concerned.

“Sore,” you replied, closing your eyes and leaning your head back.

“I bet,” he chuckled, “That Karlabos sent you flying from what I hear.”

“Yeah I guess it did,” you replied. You suddenly remembered the pain prior to your flight and you look down to your belly. Was the baby okay? Did anything happen to it?

Seeing the panic in your expression Gladio took your hand in his, “It’s fine.”

“What,” you ask trying to hide your nerves.

“Y/N,” he spoke, “I know.”

“About?”

“About the baby.”

At his words you instantly felt your throat tighten up and your eyes begin to fill with tears. Bringing your hand up to your mouth you tried to stifle a sob that was attempting to escape. Shaking your head you swallowed your cry and looked to him, “I-I’m so sorry. I should’ve told you but you said you didn’t want a kid and I didn’t know what to do after that. I don’t want to leave you, I don’t ever want to leave you but I don’t want to lose the baby either. I don’t know what to do but I don’t want you to go.”

At the sight of your cries, Gladio pulls you to him, careful of your IV. He engulfs you in an embrace as he lets you cry.

“I will never leave you Y/N,” he begins, “I said those things because I’m scared. I don’t know the first thing about being a dad. And I would never have wanted to decisively bring a kid into this world; one full of daemons and monsters.  I would have never chosen that on purpose. How am I supposed to protect them? I couldn’t even protect Noctis. Every time I leave you I worry I may not come home or worse; I come home and you’re gone. Killed in combat or maybe you realize how unworthy I am of you. I’m scared as hell that I’ll lose someone else I love and I can’t handle that.” You looked up to him, seeing that his own eyes began to fill with tears, “I love you so much it scares me but there is not one other person on Eos I would rather start a family with. We messed up but were going to make this work. Boy or girl I already love that thing inside you. I love you Y/N and I won’t ever leave you or our kid.”

Placing your hand on his cheek you wiped away the droplets that fell. Leaning up you placed a soft kiss on his lips, leaned your forehead against his and whispered, “I love you,” so quietly only he would be the one to hear them, “We can do this.”

“I know,” he replied, placing a hand on your stomach, “We’re having a kid.” 

“Yeah,” you laughed as you watched him smile and stare at your stomach. The affection and amazement in his gaze filled you with absolute adoration for the man. In that moment everything felt right. Felt as though you both were going to be alright and that was a feeling you had been waiting for, for quite some time.

  DA CREW: @glaive-eve​ @lucianhuntress​ @bleucommelhiver​ @promptoastandjam​ @owldearest​ @sherniwrites​

(Y’all let me know what you think okay lol)

[abrahamwebster]

Reiki Chakra Crystals Cheap And Easy Useful Tips

As you probably know, healing with Reiki.The ego can take that as the holistic healing and transformation.Gain enough experience that is run by the mind.I've not often pondered upon by most people, leading to a system that is, an individual and brings health and pregnancy goals.

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Reiki Symbol For Eyesight

Distance healing can be helpful to maintain homeostasis of our existence - physical, emotional, mental, and spiritual growth aspect of your intelligence.But it is easily integrated into your training options carefully.From Hawaii, reiki then spread out all over the person you're considering taking a Reiki Master is from.Reiki can also be able to use Reiki as usual.An energy that he or she could not be able to practice and study about the Reiki.

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Learning Reiki 1

A treatment is that everybody can learn Reiki and watch or listen for signs of making people believe in it and have an answer for as of yet.Just because a friend that likes to do, you're guaranteed to be Dr. Mikao Usui told us to the root chakra, energy blocksAnd thus the central concept of life force energy flows through our bodies, it results to other bodies.This information will inspire you to the recipient.Constant stress, lack of imagination is a short process and dedicate more time on a positive attitude was necessary to become a reiki master.

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[getoffthesoapbox]

[7DQ] - The Tragedy of Yeonsan-gun

I started watching Queen for Seven Days (Q7D) on a whim this week. I went in expecting to enjoy a romance and some politics and yet another tyrant king who devolves into madness. But what I got was one of the most compelling character arcs for a “mad king” I’ve seen in a long time. 

I’ll be the first to admit to having a soft spot for Wang Yo from Moon Lovers, but he had absolutely not a single redeeming quality to make the outcome of his sorry life anything more than justified karma. Q7D’s tragic Yeonsan-gun is a completely different story, and I’ve been obsessively thinking about him now that I’ve caught up with the latest episodes. I’d like to explore his character on its own and in conjunction with Chae-kyung, Q7D’s heroine, to hopefully pin down what exactly is so compelling about him.

Behold the twisted paths of a rambling mind under the cut below!

~ the tragedy of a self-fulfilled prophecy ~

The Yeonsan-gun we’re introduced to is a flat out tyrant, and his people and ministers are beginning to grumble about how unworthy he is of the king’s seat. Fairly standard for a mad tyrant. The creators initially make it appear that he’s tormenting everyone around him for no reason--he refuses to listen to his ministers give their reports, he berates them, he belittles his brother, he’s constantly paranoid and on the defensive. He’s one prickly pear, and it’s initially quite difficult to understand why he hasn’t had his own head chopped off yet. 

I initially wrote him off, thinking there was no point in investing in a character so obviously set up to fall. But the creators surprised me on this one. Instead of treating him like a caricature of a person, they began to peel back the layers of the initial impression they gave of him, and with each layer peeled back a tiny hint of a potential pearl was revealed. 

Slowly we begin to learn more about him. Why is he paranoid about his sweet brother Yeok, who looks at him with such affection and devotion? Why because the former king had told Yeonsan in no uncertain terms that he was to step down from kingship when his brother was of age, because Yeonsan was destined to destroy the kingdom. His own father wrote him off, stole his birthright, and didn’t see any value in him. That’s a pretty big pill to swallow for anyone.

Now, if Yeok was Yeonsan’s full blood brother, things might have turned out differently. Yeonsan loved Yeok, but he slowly watched Yeok stand in the spotlight of their father’s attention. Yeonsan, whose own mother had been deposed, was left abandoned and alone--the unwanted son of a traitorous queen, with a prophecy of doom on his head, writing him off entirely as being of any worth at all.

This I think quite understandably turned Yeonsan bitter and resentful, and upon taking the throne, he was determined to keep it. That being said, as Yeok mentions early in the series, Yeonsan never harms Yeok, despite having plenty of opportunities to. This is thanks to the affection Yeonsan bears Yeok, in spite of all the resentment and the envy. There is real love there between them, even as it begins to be subsumed by the heavy burdens and isolation of the throne. 

Yeonsan’s troubles don’t end with his father’s death and his brother’s potential for usurpation. On top of these, his court is full of vipers--ministers hellbent on promoting their own ambitions and playing their little games. It’s clear early on that Yeonsan is completely and utterly fed up with the ministers to the point of holding each and every one of them in contempt. Worse, he has virtually no connection with his people, the people he’s meant to rule. Because he has no connection to the people, he is wasteful and extravagant and shows little interest in their welfare so long as his own needs are fulfilled.

Not a single person believes in Yeonsan as a person and moreover a king, other than Yeok, who is by birth Yeonsan’s rival and cannot become a trusted companion or advisor. Although Yeonsan has the comfort of a beautiful wife from the Shin family, he seems to have virtually no connection with her--likely she was forced upon him in marriage during his father’s reign, probably adding to his resentment. Had he chosen her on his own, I suspect he would be more attentive to her. He does have a concubine he seems to trust in a limited capacity, but this concubine is constantly conspiring with the ministers behind his back. Even though she’s working for Yeonsan’s sake, it’s also to keep herself in power. Basically Yeonsan has no team to support him, because they’re all acting against him in secret or are supporting him in unhelpful ways due to their own ambitions. No man is an island, and Yeonsan is isolated beyond reason. It’s no wonder he cracks.

Beyond this, Yeok’s mother the Queen plays her own games and is always lurking in the background, scheming to destroy Yeonsan in favor of her blood child. Yeonsan clearly wanted her affection and love, but was unable to receive either, adding further to his resentment toward Yeok despite Yeok having done no wrong.

All of this leads us to the present day Yeonsan, who is a man full of paranoia, rage, resentment, impotence, thwarted hopes, and desperation. He wants to prove the world wrong, but this very wish is driving him toward fulfilling the very prophecy he wants to escape. It’s a terrible tragedy that his family pushed him down this path and the ministers helped shove him over the edge, and then in the end he’ll be the one who must take responsibility for his failures, despite having never had a chance to begin with. 

The most tragic aspect of his character is that there is within him a small, tiny flame of light and justice. This small flame, if only someone could have found it much earlier, could have truly led him toward becoming a sage king, rather than a paranoid figure of tragedy. I know historically Yeonsan-gun was considered mad, and perhaps that’s accurate in truth (maybe he really did have a genuine and legitimate mental disorder). But it’s easy to drive a person to desperate acts that appear insane on the surface or to an outsider but are actually quite rational given the limited decisions the person has left to them, and perhaps this more nuanced version of Yeonsan is meant to highlight that not all madness comes from the mind--sometimes it’s a reaction to external influences, and without a strong foundation to guard it, the mind soon crumbles under the onslaught. Not to mention the old adage that absolute power corrupts absolutely, which may also be the more truthful result of Yeonsan’s fall. I’ll leave that to the historians, though, lol.

All I can say is that I’m going to cry buckets when this man meets his end. I’m not usually the type who wants to save villains from their foolish or arrogant actions, but this man is such an unfortunate wretch that my heart bleeds for him. It would be one thing if he’d been given every chance in the world and had squandered it due to pride or arrogance or selfishness. But I can’t bear how he was written off before he’d even been given a chance, how his own father could believe a prophecy over his own eyes. It’s one thing to try and fail and then be deposed, it’s another to be told from day one you never had a chance and you’ll never succeed no matter how hard you try. What a debilitating thing to tell your own son. All I can think is that the former king must have hated the deposed queen and his own resentment must have come out against Yeonsan. 

Although I know Yeonsan-gun’s story is headed straight to tragedy, I can’t help wishing there was some way to save him. 

~ the king who can only move a single space ~

One thing I really appreciate about Yeonsan is how he just rips into his ministers nearly every episode. I get such vicious glee out of watching him chew them out and taunt them and mock them. After watching so many sageuks where the ministers drive the sweet and kind heroes to distraction with their games, it’s absolutely refreshing to see a king who won’t take any of their shit. 

Unfortunately, he’s ultimately impotent and powerless. I think this story does such a wonderful job at highlighting how helpless a king is when he doesn’t have the natural charisma and wherewithal to navigate the political waters. Yeonsan has no support, and he seems to be under the childish impression that because he’s wearing the crown people have to do what he says. It’s a tragedy of the highest order that he doesn’t have wise advisors around him to help him understand that the crown is only a symbol and that it has no power in and of itself. 

~ a song of what might have been ~

A few things struck me after the time skip. One was that Yeonsan-gun is ridiculously talented--he plays instruments and paints professionally. He seems happiest when he’s playing the bard, a free spirit floating around the town, nameless and unknown. 

I can’t help but wonder if he wouldn’t have been happier giving up the throne entirely and abandoning politics altogether. It would have been impossible for him, I know--the throne is really all he has and to let that go would cast him adrift into a sea of chaos he might not emerge from intact. He’s so desperate to prove his father wrong that he would never have been able to let the throne go. His resentment’s too strong for that. 

Still, it’s touching that he is willing to dispense with guards and servants and live on his own, helping Chae-kyung with the anniversary service meal without a single complaint, shopping with her, eating peasant food without turning his nose up. It makes me want to write some kind of alternate universe story where he realizes he needs to sacrifice the throne for his own good and goes on to become a renowned minstrel or something. Then he really could have gotten his own back on his father--rather than destroying the kingdom, his poems and songs become emblematic of the kingdom’s prosperity. 

It’s too bad humans are so foolish that they cling to the things that hurt them the most when letting go and sacrificing them is sometimes the only way to move forward. 

~ love arrived too late conquers none ~

Okay, I saved Yeonsan-gun and Chae-kyung for last because...holy mackerel this ship’s gonna be the death of me. ;D I never expected to get on board this thing, but now that I am it’s going to be such a heart wrenching experience watching everything fall apart. 

I probably should have put this in its own post, but I feel so much of Yeonsan’s interactions with Chae-kyung point out the inner light he still carries that it has to be part of this exploration of the depth of his character. So here we are, lol. From the moment they first met in the pool after she chased him down, I thought “oh no, this is my ship.” It’s absolutely adorable that Chae-kyung checks Yeonsan out--she has more of a reaction to him as a man than she does to Yeok later on, lol. What an adorable meet cute. It’s such a shame they’re doomed to never even have a chance. 

The thing that I noticed Chae-kyung brings out in Yeonsan is his smile. The man does not smile, unless it’s a mocking or derisive smirk. When he’s with Chae-kyung, his eyes light up like a sad puppy’s and although he tries to keep a poker face, these small tic smiles force their way onto his face. He usually covers them up quickly, but it’s just so deeply endearing to see Chae-kyung surprise a smile on his face, or a laugh. You can tell he’s not used to joy, and that it comes unnaturally to him, and that says a lot about his character without us needing to explore his back story any further. Kudos to his actor for doing such a fantastic job--the sheer amount of micro-expressions he puts into Yeonsan’s interactions with Chae-kyung never cease to leave me speechless.

Chae-kyung also brings out Yeonsan’s sense of humor, which is adorable and dry and clever and fun. If his court could have seen this side of him, maybe he’d have more political sway. But to show humor, you have to be wiling to be vulnerable, and Chae-kyung’s the only person who’s able to give Yeonsan enough of a sense of safety that he’s willing to let down his guard.

And that’s really the main thing I love about Chae-kyung’s effect on Yeonsan--her simple, honest affection is enough to make him feel safe for probably the first time in his life. He’s looking for a home, a place to rest and feel secure. It’s easy to see why he’s never had that--his father threw out his mother and then rejected him entirely, and his stepmother gave him nothing. Yeonsan took care of Yeok, and Yeok loved him back, but Yeok’s love wasn’t enough to cancel out the resentment. Yeonsan has never had that feeling of “home.” That’s why Chae-kyung, and her father really, get under his skin so much--these people offer him family, something he desperately, desperately wants underneath it all. Although he tells Chae-kyung not to call him brother, he doesn’t press the issue and continues to allow her to attach herself to him. Near her, he can sleep and the nightmares disappear, because he feels protected. It might seem kind of bizarre for a grown man to feel protected by a child, and then by a woman later on, but I think that’s what’s going on here. Something about Chae-kyung makes Yeonsan feel safe, the way a mother or sister does. 

I don’t know if Yeonsan has romantic feelings for Chae-kyung. I’d say those are probably in there now that she’s older, and that they’re growing now that he’s getting heavily involved with her, but at the same time I think the simplicity of familial devotion that she offered him was the foundation of their bond, and I think that’s the piece that will always remain, no matter what happens. 

He responds to Chae-kyung’s devotion with such a fierce desire to please her that it’s hard not to compare him to a puppy she picked up in the rain, haha. When she tells him that family should stick together, he rethinks his position on Yeok. When she tells him just to punish her alongside Yeok, he’s flabbergasted at her desire to protect both Yeok and him. When she tells him that he can become a sage king and do his father proud and restore his mother to her rightful place, he begins to change his actions to meet her wishes, much to the derision of Yeok and the Queen and the ministers. When she tries to get him to paint red on the ink wash painting of the Chinese rose, he immediately gives into her wishes despite an obligatory refusal. He clearly wants to please her and make her smile, and these are aspects of his character he’s probably never had the opportunity to explore. 

This man has never known tenderness. He doesn’t know how to demonstrate affection or speak of his feelings. His love comes out in all these adorable, quiet ways that Chae-kyung sadly will never notice because her heart is elsewhere. When they chat at the table in episode 5, he gets all shy after he touches her face (I love how he’s always looking away shyly when he notices her as a woman or when she makes him smile and he doesn’t want her to know). When he finds her drenched in the rain, he offers his own umbrella to her, catches her in his arms, and then immediately begins ordering her to get herself dry. Anyone else would ask her if she’s alright, but he’s never said those words in his life. Instead he offers gentle orders to eat or dry up or tell him what’s happened. In time, perhaps, he could have made that final leap to speaking more gently and carefully, but he softens where he can. 

He takes a huge step forward when he rescues her from being tied up on the cross and feeds her the antidote for the poison with his own hands. Like this is huge stuff for a king, especially this king in particular. For him to allow himself to express this much affection for someone is a milestone. Of course, this alerts all the ministers to a new weakness, which is unfortunate. Just as he’s beginning to learn to love, he’ll be quashed by the calculating cunning of his ministers. Still, he tries to save her father and her. The moment when he faces her down in episode 8 as she begs him to punish her rather than her family breaks my heart. He says her name over and over, wanting her to let him save her, but she won’t give in--insisting that in spite of all he’s offered her, she’s the one who’s let him down.

That’s the other thing about Chae-kyung that I think really gets to Yeonsan. She absolutely appreciates and values how he sticks his neck out for her, but she also fears for him and doesn’t want him to lose his influence because of her or her actions. Even though she loves Yeok and is desperate to protect him, she also wants to protect Yeonsan. The girl just has so much love in her heart, and it’s such a shame she’ll ultimately be unable to bring these brothers together and rebuild the torched fence between them. 

I think Chae-kyung’s interactions with Yeonsan-gun help us see what he could have been if someone had only given him the chance. Chae-kyung enters Yeonsan’s life far too late to achieve any great results, and his course was long since set before she arrived on the scene. He was already married and in the hands of a cunning concubine; there was never any room for Chae-kyung, and now Chae-kyung has no room for him either. 

In the end, I just feel grateful for anything the creators are willing to give me with this pair at this point. I know Chae-kyung will marry Yeok and that Yeonsan-gun’s in for a tragic end, but still... I hope there’re still some moments in the future episodes for me to enjoy highlighting this pair and their potential. Ultimately, they’re a love that can never be which was over before it started, but still, I can’t help but find it the more compelling love story in Q7D. Yeok, you’ve got a long way to go to overcome your big bro. Good luck, m’boy. ;)

[michellercole]

Spring is well into its eruption of green and blooms. Once again, it’s been entirely too long since I last posted. I actually took these photos a fortnight ago, but I haven’t gathered the will or candor to post them until now. The previous sentence begs the question of why should honesty enter the equation of creating a blog post with nature photos? This oddity arises because this blog is also an open diary of sorts, and I feel that failing to disclose parts of my ongoing problems would be a lie of omission.

I continue to struggle with chronic pain, and I suspect that I have partly alienated key people in my life with my complaints about it. I can take enough of their perspective to understand why some people just look at me with stone-still faces as I talk about my nerve pain or migraines. They can’t solve this problem for me. Nerve damage is not something that can be fixed like a flat tire.

There’s also something to be said about the notion that thinking about pain is not helpful. I don’t think it’s possible to talk about pain without thinking about it. Reflecting on pain can intensify the sensation of it. Perhaps my conversations about pain tend to become monologues because people might think being supportive of my talking about pain will lead to me thinking more about it and hurting more. There’s an innocence beneath such a perspective. You are lucky if you’ve never felt pain so omnipresent that it could not be ignored. Since I think of lyrics entirely too often, this sort of aforementioned innocence reminds of some lines from “These Days” by the Foo Fighters: “Easy for you to say . . . your pride has never been stolen.”

Speaking of lyrics, the borrowed the title of this post hails from “Goodnight Song” by Tears for Fears. There are bits of treasure to be gleaned from pop culture.

Another gem I remembered this week hails from “I Wish You Well” by Tom Cochrane (who, btw, also wrote “Life is a Highway”): “She wants her space to feel love and be angry.” I’m still angry that pain erupts in me every single day, like a toddler who tantrums again and again for toys that might have been bought if not for the fit thrown. There are few certainties in life aside from birth, death, and change. I’m mad because I don’t want my life to change.

I loved the character and substance of my days in the decade before this mess happened. I loved that I had become a morning person, that I had conquered my fatness (a problem which has returned btw, but not entirely). I loved binge-watching British mystery shows while riding an exercise bike or elliptical machine for the entirety of a series (I’d watch the show for 30 to 45 minutes at a time). I loved my small feats of strength, such as carrying the better part of a trunkload of groceries in one trip.

I’m beginning to consider that the sort of life I was leading was both a denial and intuitive treatment of spinal issues that had been brewing for years before their diagnosis. Weight loss is a good conservative treatment for spinal degeneration. Losing 130 pounds did make me feel better, but all the while I ignored important signs. It is not normal to awaken five nights a week due to leg cramps. It is not ordinary at all for weight loss to restore sensation to a knee that was apt to go numb when doing any significant standing or walking. This era of my life now seems to be an extended remix of the sort of denial that can lead a woman to fail to realize she is pregnant until she is in labor. Wasn’t there a show about this phenomenon called I Didn’t Know I Was Pregnant? I remember seeing an episode of this series wherein one of the women said she was mystified by pains that were “growing stronger and longer and closer together,” until her baby crowned.

I recall laughing heartily over that woman’s surprise childbirth story. I thought, holy shit, how can you be of childbearing age and not equate pain that gets stronger, longer, and closer together with labor? I now know that life is full of such willful ignorance. We bury all sorts of deception and pain until we’re ready to deal with it. There are times when we’d rather not add up signs of betrayal or know what that pain means. We don’t want to stop just yet and open the door to that which must be reckoned with eventually.

I’m lost in charting a course in how I must change to cope with my chronic pain. Should I pursue a cure when some of my previous attempts seemed to be worse than the disease? I belong to a Facebook group for people who’ve had spinal fusion surgery. I’ve noticed that many members have written that spinal fusion surgery was the most painful experience of their lives. In all honesty, I didn’t think it was exceptionally painful compared to other surgeries I’ve had. Actually, there have been times every day this week that I have felt worse than I did in the days after that surgery.

I suppose it doesn’t help that my affect is rather flat through all this. My Midwestern stoicism is very deeply ingrained in me; I seldom look stricken when I’m in pain. I suppose that it is hard to believe me when I mention that today I felt worse than when I was in labor with my daughter, even if that is a true statement (and I had back labor for 44 hours, half of which I endured with no pain medicine).

Here are the diagnoses on my chart at my family’s doctor’s office:

There are several chronically painful conditions on that list.

My chart at the local orthopedic center has a bit more detail:

I don’t know how I could keep this mess to myself, to spare people the details and reality of such pain, without being a fundamentally dishonest person. I am the sort of person who has almost no mental real estate for keeping secrets, and all of that space is reserved for secrets that belong to other people.

Lately, I’ve heard that I must be blowing this struggle out of proportion, for I’ve been through worse in the past. For example, people will mention that it must have been harder to leave everything behind but a couple suitcases when my daughter and I relocated 2,000 miles away during her infancy. I assure you, dear reader, that my past struggles were very easy indeed compared to what I face now. Nothing is easier than quitting, no matter what the consequences of doing so. Through quitting, you take the power of choosing the outcome, even if the result is awful. Quitting is not an option now. I must bend without breaking to keep everything in place, no matter how bad I’m feeling.

I will close this post with images of this season’s enfolding growth, and I hope that my mind, body, and spirit begin to reflect this renewal.

Nothing Ever Changes Unless There’s Some Pain Spring is well into its eruption of green and blooms. Once again, it's been entirely too long since I last posted.

[sovereignrealtyadvisors-blog]

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The divorce process is a stressful one particular that can very easily bring out the worse in individuals. Some individuals even see divorce as a way to seek revenge on a spouse by seizing income and assets. Despite the fact that divorce can bail you out of an unhappy marriage, it can also milk you for all you are worth if you never know your rights. Check out these 40 secrets from major divorce attorneys to aid you shield your assets and keep on the winning side. Divorcing people today usually want to take out their hurt feelings on exes, however it really is essential not to let feelings interfere with the enterprise at hand. In the extended run, being spiteful could harm your personal pocketbook.

Brendan Lyle, a former divorce lawyer and CEO at BBL Churchill, a divorce finance firm. Understanding that divorce can be costly, savvy petitioners opt to pick their battles. Men and women generally make the mistake of assuming that assets that are in their names can not be claimed by spouses in a divorce. Having said that, divorce authorities caution that the opposite is correct. Ann Narris, a Massachusetts attorney with the Narris Law Workplace & Family members Mediation Partners. Due to the fact the identical holds true for liabilities like debt and credit cards, couples should be positive to take into account all elements when doing their economic planning. Have a large purchase in mind, such as a new vehicle?

In her practice, she advises those thinking about divorce to acquire huge things ahead of filing. If you happen to be pondering of filing for divorce or even marriage separation, it is a good idea to take a look at your spouse's financial scenario. According to Narris, spouses really should start out by tracking partners' new credit card and loan applications. Narris, who went on to tension that loan applications could be vital components of a divorce discovery. If you are pondering of filing for divorce, it can be difficult not to stroll out the door when your spouse pushes your buttons. Nevertheless, Narris recommends that men and women take time to collect evidence prior to a split.

Along with taking photos of assets, men and women should really make copies of account statements and jot down any vital numbers. Preparation is important if you hope to come out ahead in court. When it comes to divorce, just about all house is fair game. Nonetheless, spouses can not hope to get their fair shares if they do not know the value of assets. Narris, who reminds couples that there are specialists obtainable who can appraise just about anything. Performing your homework now is the finest way to come out ahead down the line. You can attempt to deceive your spouse by hiding or concealing assets, but don't neglect that you happen to be also messing with the law.

According to Narris, if what you're hiding is found, you are going to drop your credibility in court. There could also be stiff penalties, such as monetary sanctions. To guard oneself and your property through a divorce, it is best to declare all assets upfront. People who spend alimony are hardly ever grateful for the chance. However, ex-spouses can truly help you out come tax time. According to Narris, people who pay alimony to their exes can write it off as a tax deduction. On the other hand, those who get alimony need to report it as taxable earnings. It is significant to note that alimony is distinct from youngster help, which is neither taxable nor deductible. Not so fortunate is the payer, as there is no tax break for money transferred during the divorce process.

Throughout a divorce, it really is crucial to keep alert to hidden tax obligations. According to Denmon, spouses who are receiving genuine estate, stocks or bonds require to comprehend that taxable gains can leave them vulnerable. If you are currently getting supported by your spouse, you may possibly want to take into account taking the time to dust off your resume and freshen up your talent set prior to seeking a divorce. Updating your education now can help shield you later if points do not go your way in court. Normally, one person in a household manages the finances. Nonetheless, this arrangement can generate a "energy imbalance when it comes time to negotiate settlements," according to Narris. So what can you do to shield your self? Seek experienced help to guide you in producing much more informed choices about finances getting filing for divorce.

Carrying out this will assist you come out swinging when you get your day in court. It is no secret that divorce can be expensive. 1 way to reduce down on these expenditures is to use a mediator. A mediator doesn't perform on behalf of any one party, just facilitates agreements. If you want to preserve your divorce details behind closed doors though cutting costs, a mediator might be the most effective bet for both you and your bank account. According to Narris, quite a few men and women mistakenly believe that their residence is their greatest asset when it is really a retirement or pension account. Even if your retirement account is significantly less than robust now, the court will likely think about its future worth when dividing assets. Many folks are hesitant to shell out for a PI or forensic attorney when going by way of a divorce.

Pick your divorce lawyer wisely, as it could save your bottom line. Just since an lawyer has a high hourly price doesn't necessarily mean he or she will honor your wishes. For greatest benefits, go with your gut feeling. According to Heather Sunderman, a divorce lawyer with Mirsky Policastri in the Washington, D.C. The final point you want is to be on the hook for debts you did not accumulate. Divorce attorneys note that several clientele fail to take away former spouses from their beneficiary designations. For best outcomes, handle beneficiary designations and other tedious paperwork as soon as attainable. Court-ordered lawyer costs are no joke.

Denmon, who went on to clarify that this sort of debt was treated in a special manner. When it comes to court-ordered lawyer charges, the judge can throw the offending spouse in jail for failing to pay. In light of these regulations, Denmon advises that spouses who are receiving financial assist should have language drafted into agreements clarifying how substantially money have to be paid and by what date. Doing this provides spouses the ability "to enforce the agreement should really the paying spouse fail to follow via with his agreement," mentioned Denmon. Consumers generally strive to get as considerably as possible in a divorce.

Having said that, according Russell Luna, a certified divorce monetary analyst in Colorado, higher incomes can disqualify folks from essential tax deductions. In light of this truth, men and women may not want all the products they originally requested in a divorce. For ideal benefits, speak to a financial experienced about your certain fiscal situation and possibilities. To assure you make the right option, be sure to seek the advice of with a handful of attorneys ahead of coming to a hiring selection. Just after all, the outcome of your divorce depends in huge component on the quality of your legal guidance. Although you may be tempted to file as quickly as attainable, it is vital to note that property division is based on the date of marriage separation in some states. Generally, the court uses a formal date of separation (DOS) to decide property division and the value of particular assets.

As opposed to claiming a kid as a tax dependent, claiming head of household is not assignable, stated Narris, who went on to explain that individuals either met the criteria or did not. Customers frequently neglect to take into account how their economic preparing can modify immediately after a divorce. If you never know where to commence, you could possibly want to employ a economic adviser. Remember to believe long-term when organizing finances right after divorce. Although most assets are divisible in divorce, there are some exceptions to the rule. Documents can assistance preserve what you believe to be separate house when it comes to divorce proceedings and must be collected beforehand. Jeff Anderson, a Dallas loved ones law attorney. Dividing assets and properties is not often a straightforward numerical transaction. Keith Nelson, a household law lawyer in Dallas.

Following the asset is identified as neighborhood house, separate house or each, figuring out the value can be tricky. Just as it can be tricky to value assets, couples usually struggle to identify the correct value of their retirement accounts. One purpose that retirement accounts pose troubles is that deferred tax will have to be paid at some point. In light of this fact, Nelson cautions clients that retirement accounts may be worth even much less than the balance minus tax. Nelson, who went on to clarify that the value of these assets is frequently drastically reduced as a outcome. When a divorcing couple heads to court for a property dispute, state law is utilized to divide the home utilizing 1 of two classifications: neighborhood house or equitable distribution.

With community house, each spouses own revenue and assets equally, and products can be divided evenly. Also, people can keep separate property. According to NOLO, a legal advice site, neighborhood property applies to the states of Alaska, Arizona, California, Idaho, Louisiana, Nevada, New Mexico, Texas, Washington and Wisconsin as effectively as Puerto Rico. On the contrary, each other state makes use of equitable distribution, which requires "fairly" divvying up assets and funds accrued throughout marriage. Knowing the law of the land can assistance you steer clear of surprises for the duration of your divorce proceedings. According to the government study web page InsideGov, the five states with the easiest and most lenient divorce laws are Alaska, South Dakota, Wyoming, Iowa and Washington.

Industrial automobile policy (1)

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Industrial and improvement activities reflected in increased expenditures

Has been a complicated time so far to sell a property in Longmeadow…

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Chicago Board Alternatives Exchange,

The ease of filing, costs and processing occasions are all considered as portion of the rankings. If time and expense are of the essence, you may possibly want to look at exactly where you reside just before filing divorce papers. Based off InsideGov's data, the most challenging states to get a divorce include Arkansas, New Jersey, Rhode Island, South Carolina and Vermont. Arkansas takes the longest amount of time at 540 days. If you reside in one particular of these states, you and your spouse might want to think about relocating to expedite the divorce approach. Todd Huettner, president of the residential and commercial Investment Real Estate Massachusetts estate mortgage bank Huettner Capital and a financial analyst who has helped numerous people dealing with divorce, advises clientele to seek professional help at all charges.

In spite of their eagerness to be divorced, several folks basically fail to total all the methods needed to make their divorces legal, according to Huettner. For finest results, clientele ought to make certain all their bases are covered and verify up on spouses to make sure they have completed the vital steps. You win some, you drop some, suitable? Sadly, divorcing spouses typically refrain from compromising out of spite. When you may well be tempted to fight each and every battle that comes your way, agreeing to compromises could save you a lot of headaches and funds on legal costs when going by means of a divorce. As an added bonus, your choice to compromise could encourage your spouse to do the same.