#words are easy. tools of deception

[yuechihua]

everything you said about characters caring deeply for each other without the need for a romantic angle was so so relatable. i love those kinds of stories and i personally think these ambiguous relationships are so fun to play with… narrative wise too because you don’t need to add cliche markers of romance and instead focus on how each character shows affection and care. (ighter anon)

I'm glad you agree!! I also really love the sort of stories where love doesn't need a big, grand gesture or explicit declaration, but is present in everything the characters do and how they think and how they act. It's something that's just so entwined into who they are... Also, I think ambiguous relationships, where the love isn't able to be defined because it's greater than language, are more romantic to me in general, haha! Other people's words can't capture what's so unique and special between these two people, or the intensity of their specific emotion!

I also agree that it's nice when you can focus on how each character would show affection! I think it's fun considering how individual circumstances and personality influence how characters would react in regards to love. Writing x reader fic is really just an exercise in analysis for me in that regards lmfao

[wholoveseggs]

hi! ik youve done smth similar to this but i'd like to request like an enemy-to-lover elijahxreader with him just being an asshole. with eventual smut and teasing. ty!

The Gardener {Part One}

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

Part One

The relationship between witches and vampires has always been fraught with complexity— a toxic mix of power and revenge. Raised to preserve nature’s balance, you’ve been taught that vampires are a perversion of life itself. You have a duty and a purpose, to eliminate all vampires. You're willing to do whatever it takes to fulfill it, even if that means falling into bed with the enemy.

♡♡ Thanks for the request beautiful anon! This is a story I've wanted to tell for a while, I hope y'all enjoy it...♡♡

3.7k words - Warnings: no smut in this one, but lots of drama, angst, violence and deception... reader is a bit of a fanatic, witches, magic, murder && vervain...

{Part Two}{Part Three}{Part Four}

{Elijah Mikaelson Tag-List }

@gorgeouslydangerous @starkleila @lydia1369sworld @notleylaaa @vampiresluv

@myanmy @xflowerbombxo @maryvibess @always-and-forever-daydreaming

@spnaquakindgdom @amournoir @meeom @damienmorton @wickedmuse

@cs-please @complicatedandconfusing-25 @youcanhavemybuckanyday @akala6670229 @yeaiamme2

@itsjulzandmydiamonds @witch-of-letters @elijahstwink @rosecentury

@amanda08319 @starshipcookie @li-da-savage @veggie-eggrolls @spideybv28

@sunkissedebony97 @idk00sblog @savannaounana @sekaishell @b1tchy

@loving-and-dreaming @fancycassie-stayfancy @hcqwxrtss123 @iamawkwardandshy @ziayamikaelson

@absolutemarveltrash @darkened-writer @nina6708 @evasmlp

You wiped the sweat off your brow before picking up another bag of soil. Entering through the front gates of the compound, you dropped the bag next to the others and paused to catch your breath. You took a few more steps down the hall, entering a lavishly decorated courtyard. You had always been curious about what the compound looked like on the inside; you were not disappointed. Beautiful ivy laced up the old walls, spanning over arched balconies and expensive antique furniture was thoughtfully placed throughout. It was cozy, fantastical, and a little medieval; the only hint of modernity was string lights artfully hanging about.

It was easy to get swept up in the beauty of the place, so you had to remind yourself of all the evil the people that lived here had done. It was a sobering thought and you felt a surge of righteous anger. Your mind raced back to the countless people who had been hurt by these monsters. The innocent lives lost.

The ancestors had bestowed a glorious mission upon you and you were honored to be chosen. To take down one of the oldest and most powerful families of vampires was no small feat. It was not something you took lightly.

You returned to your task and carried on with your work. Gathering your tools from your car and retrieving the last bag of soil from the trunk. It was all very heavy, and the warm Louisiana weather was making you thirsty. You lugged the remaining supplies back inside the gate, dropping them down into a pile. Letting out a relieved sigh, you leaned against the wall and took a long sip from your water bottle, then another, then a third one to finally quench your thirst. You pooled a bit more of the water into your hands and splashed it on your warm face.

"Can I fetch you a wheelbarrow?" said a smooth voice from across the courtyard.

You spun around to find an amused looking gentleman, dressed in a three-piece suit. The infamous Elijah Mikaelson. He was not exactly what you had imagined, though it wasn't entirely surprising. A good predator hides behind a pleasing facade.

He was attractive, that was certain and he had the sort of charisma that could disarm you. He was smiling, his eyes dark and intense, like he could see right through to your skin and bones.

You put on your best smile, trying to be friendly and non-threatening. "Yes, that would be very helpful, thank you," you said breathlessly, wiping the water and sweat from your face.

He nodded and disappeared down the hall. You watched him go, admiring his handsome features as he left. You had a good feeling about this, he could be your way in.

You stepped further into the center of the courtyard, straining your neck trying to get a look at the opulent rooms beyond the second-floor balconies. What you were looking for was probably up there somewhere, just waiting for you to take it.

Elijah returned, pushing a large wheelbarrow before him.

"Thank you," you said, as he handed it off to you.

"It's nothing," he replied with a soft smile.

"Are you Klaus? I'm the one you hired to plant your garden," you replied politely, extending your hand. You needed to play the part of the naive gardener, clueless to who and what he was.

He chuckled, glancing at the bags of soil piled at the entrance. "No, I'm not Niklaus, but I did deduce what you were here for. My name is Elijah; Niklaus is my brother," he took your hand and shook it gently.

You knew exactly who he was, practically learning his name not long after you learned your own. He was the poised one, the liar, the deceiver. You had been taught to be wary of him, for his soft words and empty promises always led to death.

You didn't let any of this show, smiling back at him and saying, "Well, it's nice to meet you, Elijah."

It was a simple performance, all you needed to do was maintain it, add a bit of sincerity to your mannerisms. You pretended to be flustered by his charm, reaching up and twiddling the piece of verbena you had braided into your hair.

"So do you two own this place? It's beautiful," you remarked, looking up once again at the stunning architecture. "The ivy is incredible."

"Thank you; it's been in our family for years. Would you like a tour of the place?" He said, his eyes on your twiddling hand. You immediately put your arm down.

"I would love to, but I promised your brother I would finish setting everything up before the end of the day," you replied, pointing to the pile of supplies.

"It's quite alright, I will help you."

"Oh no, it's okay, I can manage-"

"Please," he said, his brown eyes looking deeply into yours.

This almost felt too easy, a part of you was suspicious, but you couldn't deny the thrill of playing the game. If you could win the favor of a Mikaelson, it would certainly help your cause.

"Alright," you replied with a nod. "Could you show me to your greenhouse?"

"Of course, follow me," he replied, walking ahead.

You picked up your bag of fertilizer and began the task of wheeling the heavy materials across the courtyard. Elijah glanced back at you with a concerned look on his face.

"Let me," he offered.

"That's alright, I've got it," you said, pushing the wheelbarrow with a grunt.

He didn't look convinced, but he didn't press the matter further. He led the way towards the back of the estate, opening the doors for you. He had a way about him, a posture and stride of a man who had the confidence to do anything.

Because he wasn't a man, but a beast, and the world was his prey. You had to remind yourself not to be intimidated, even if it was difficult. You had trained for this, prepared yourself to face the most vile of creatures.

The greenhouse was large, with old, wooden tables full of tools and gardening supplies. The sunlight shone through the glass, illuminating the rows and rows of empty flower beds. You smiled, admiring the beauty of the space. It was the perfect place to create, to nurture life. The irony of it being located at the center of the den of death made you laugh.

Elijah gave you a curious look. "Is something funny?"

"It's nothing," you replied. "I'm just excited to get started. The weather is perfect."

He raised an eyebrow, looking a bit skeptical, his eyes traveling down your body, taking in your appearance. You looked a bit eccentric, with a pair of overalls covered in colorful patches and flowers braided into your hair. It was all a part of the persona, an act, and it worked. He relaxed his stance and gave you a smile, then he took the wheelbarrow from your hands and unloaded the soil with ease.

"You didn't have to do that. If you keep helping me like this, I might have to pay you and not the other way around," you joked, setting down your bag of tools on the workbench across from the door.

He smiled, taking a step back and raising his hands playfully in mock surrender. He leaned against the door frame, surveying you as you unpacked your things. "How long have you been a gardener?" He asked.

"I've been doing this professionally since I was eighteen, but I've loved it my whole life," you replied honestly, setting the seeds you had brought with you on the table. "I own a shop not far from here."

He nodded, glancing at the bags of fertilizer and plants, then back at you. "Do you enjoy it?"

"Of course. What's not to enjoy? Being able to create something beautiful, nurturing it, watching it grow. I love it."

You were being sincere and honest this time, no need to change everything about yourself. He studied you carefully, then made his way towards you, pulling out his handkerchief and gesturing for you to take it. "You have some soil on your forehead."

You blushed, taking the fabric and cleaning yourself; that was entirely on accident, but it was working well for your act. "Hazards of the job," you said, giving him a sweet smile and handing it back to him.

He smirked, sliding the used handkerchief into his pocket with a practiced grace. "It's no problem at all; I'll leave you to your work," he moved to leave when he suddenly paused and turned back to face you. "I don't mean to be impolite, but what do you have in your hair?"

"What?" You replied, feeling the side of your head where your hair was braided. You knew exactly what he was talking about, but it was important to feign innocence. "Oh, it's verbena, one of the plants your brother asked me to grow," you pulled the flower out of your hair and twirled it between your fingers. "It's an herb, and it smells nice, too," you lifted the blossom towards him.

He didn't make any move to take it from you, and you knew exactly why. Verbena was known for repelling vampires, you had braided the sprigs into your hair and woven it into the band of your hat. They were small enough to be ignored, but they were powerful.

"Out of curiosity, what else did he ask you to grow?" He asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Hmm, let's see," you turned away from him searching for the list you had left in your bag. "Monkshood, Sage, Yarrow, Verbena, and Winter bloom," you read off to him. "Klaus told me he liked the colors together."

You both knew that was utter bull shit. All of the plants were herbs with various magical properties, especially in the hands of a witch.

"Hmmm, of course he did, my brother can be very particular," he replied, looking a bit uneasy.

"It sounds like a diabolical witch's brew straight out of a fairy tale," you laughed, and so did he, but the tension was still there.

"It does, doesn't it." He paused for a moment, as though he was debating whether or not he should say something. "The verbena suits you. You should keep wearing it in your hair."

You smiled, blushing and twirling the flower between your fingers, "Thank you, I think I will."

"I will leave you to your work. My brother will be returning shortly, so if you have any questions, please feel free to ask him."

"Thank you," you replied cheerfully, "I appreciate that."

With that, he walked out of the greenhouse, shutting the door behind him. Once you were alone, the smile dropped from your face. Your hands were shaking and the adrenaline was coursing through your body. You were scared and excited all at the same time, the rush was overwhelming. It had been a risk, to flirt so brazenly with danger, but it had paid off.

Soon you would have your prize and the ancestors would honor you for generations to come.

You had your headphones on, humming along to your music as you worked on planting a row of winter bloom. It had taken a couple of hours to organize all the flowerbeds and fill them with soil. Now, the hardest part was getting everything planted.

You felt a large vibration through the floor, then another. You stood, pulling off your headphones; a blood-curdling scream echoed through the hallway, along with a loud crash coming from the courtyard. You quickly shut off the music and crept towards the door, peeking your head out. You heard angry voices and saw the shadow of a fight moving along the walls.

You stepped out into the open, walking slowly towards the noise, your spade clutched tightly in your fist. You peeked around the corner to find a gruesome sight.

Crumbled on the floor was what looked to be a pile of bodies, blood pooling out around them. Another scream came from above. You looked up to see Klaus on the third floor, holding a woman by her neck as he dangled her over the railing. Her feet kicking erratically as she helplessly struggled.

"You know the rules, no magic in the quarter," he yelled, his voice crackling with rage, pulling the woman close to his face. "You witches think you can make moves against my family and live," he said in hushed fury. "Now I have to use you and your conspirators as an example."

The woman gasped and clawed at his arm. Her face was turning blue, and her eyes were bulging. Klaus glanced down, meeting your eyes. Then he dropped her, her scream cut off as she hit the floor, a loud crack reverberating through the compound.

Suddenly, Klaus was in front of you. You tried to use the spade to defend yourself, striking out in his direction. He laughed and grabbed it from you with extreme ease. He then planted both of his hands against the wall on either side of your head. His eyes were black with murder, blood dripping from his grinning mouth. You tried to look away from his horrifying face, too frightened to even scream.

It was him, the fabled beast, the abomination. You could hear the voices of your ancestors, thousands of voices yelling out in anger, screaming at him.

Kill him, kill him, kill him, they chanted, louder and louder until it was all you could hear.

He grabbed your face, forcing you to look into his eyes and all the chanting turned to screams of fear and agony. Like they were being slaughtered by him all over again.

"Hello love, you must be the new gardener," he said, his words soft and gentle, "I'll be sure to give you a generous tip, for services rendered."

You wanted to tell him that he was the devil, the monster, the bringer of death. That you would be the one to end him. But you were paralyzed with terror, the screams and images were too much. You shut your eyes tight, trying to block it all out, but it was impossible. You started to sob, tears rolling down your cheeks, mixing with the dirt on your face.

"Look at me," he said softly, his fingers digging painfully into your cheeks.

You opened your eyes, your vision blurry and your head spinning. He had a strange look on his face, half amused, half concerned. He brushed away your tears with his thumbs, his touch surprisingly gentle.

"You won't remember anything about today; all you know is that you did another excellent day of work and finished all the planting," he said slowly, staring deeply into your eyes.

He let go of your face and offered you the spade. You looked down, taking it from his steady hand with your shaking one. He believed he could compel you, and you had to convince him that was true. You swallowed, taking a deep breath, remembering your training, focusing on slowing down your heart, relaxing your muscles. You couldn't panic, or you would die.

You looked back up at him, and he seemed pleased with himself, smiling brightly, his blue eyes twinkling.

"Go back to your work," he said, patting you on the shoulder before disappearing down the hall.

You took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as you tried to compose yourself. You were so scared you could barely stand. You had faced the beast, and you had survived. The screams in your head were deafening, the images of the dead witches flashed through your mind, the pain of their deaths searing through your body. But slowly, all their garbled words turned into one unifying chant.

Death to all vampires, death to all vampires, you whispered, echoing their words, clutching your spade tightly in your fist.

You half walked, half ran from your car to your shop, scrambling inside. You threw your tool bag behind the counter and headed to the back room. You faced the stone wall, and with trembling fingers, you slid aside the brick that hid the hidden latch. Your hand was shaking so hard you could barely get the door open.

Once it swung open, the scent of incense wafted through the air, filling your nose. The others had already gathered, all seven of them, the other witches who were brave enough to make a stand against the vampire scourge.

You rushed into the small room and shut the door behind you, turning to face them. They were waiting for you, looking at you expectantly.

"Report," Agnes demanded, her eyes narrowed and her hands gripping her cane tightly.

"They don't suspect a thing," you said, your voice still a little shaky. "The abominations bought my act,"

"And the ash?" Agnes asked.

"Location still unknown," you replied.

She nodded, seeming satisfied with the news, "very well,"

"How was it? Facing them, what were they like?" Your friend Beatrice asked, her brown eyes wide with concern.

"It was horrible," you replied, "they are just as ancestors say,"

"We need to plan the next steps," Maeve interjected, she was always impatient, wanting everything to happen as soon as possible.

"Maeve," Beatrice chastised. "If they suspect something is amiss, this could all fall to ruin,"

"We have a way in, that's the first step completed, we should not waste any time," Maeve argued. "Y/n can only plant a garden so slowly, when she is done we will lose all access to the compound."

Agnes was about to reply, but the door chime of the shop rang, cutting her off. "I will handle this," you said, taking a deep breath.

You looked to your sisters and nodded, leaving them and going back out into the shop. You would be right back to finish the meeting, you just had to quickly deal with a customer.

You put a smile on your face and rounded the corner, only to come face to face with one of the monsters you were just talking about.

Elijah.

He was standing by a shelf, looking at a potted plant. You swallowed, composing yourself before walking towards him.

"Mr. Mikaelson," you said as cheerfully as you could, "what can I do for you today?"

He looked up at you and smiled, putting the pot back down.

"I apologize for the intrusion," he said politely. "I wanted to see your shop, it's lovely," he gestured to the display shelves and many plants hanging from the ceiling.

"Thank you, I've spent a lot of time making it this way," you replied, feeling a bit proud.

"Your work in the greenhouse is quite impressive," he said, looking back at you, a curious expression on his face.

"It was nothing," you laughed nervously, rubbing the back of your neck, trying not to meet his gaze.

"I wanted to ask you something," he continued, walking around the store, looking at the various plants.

"Ask away,"

"You're a witch," he said casually, picking up a pot of herbs, taking in their fragrance.

You felt your heart stop, but you tried to remain calm. You had prepared for this, bumps in the road are to be expected.

"That's more of a statement than a question." You said as calmly as you could.

"Yes, well, you've done a very good job of hiding it, so much so that my brother didn't even suspect," he glanced at you, his brown eyes dark, almost black. "It seems strange that you would take a job as a gardener in a vampire's home."

"Why does that matter?" You asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

He stepped closer, and you backed up, bumping into the shelving behind you. Leaning down, his face hovering inches from yours, you could feel the heat of his breath on your face, and you were frozen in place.

"I like you," he whispered, "and I want to give you a chance to explain yourself."

You stared him directly in the eye, trying not to flinch or show any emotion. "It's important to protect yourself in these times,"

He chuckled, looking amused. "You speak of the ban on magic? My brother's rule of the quarter?"

"Yes," you replied simply.

He nodded, a small smile on his lips. "And how would you like to change that?"

You swallowed, the voices of your ancestors ringing in your ears. Lie, lie, lie, they commanded.

"I'm simply trying to survive," you answered, it wasn't a lie, just an incomplete truth. "I have no love for my kind,"

"Hmm," he mused, his dark eyes studying your face. He reached up, brushing a stray strand of hair from your cheek. "So, tell me, are you planning on harming my family?"

You could feel his energy, his power. He was ancient, powerful, and deadly. "Of course not," you replied, looking up at him, praying your face didn't betray you.

He didn't respond, his gaze searching yours. He was close, so close, you could smell the cologne on his skin, the subtle hints of soap and shampoo. You knew the stories, the horrors, here you were, staring into the eyes of death himself.

You leaned in and kissed him, placing a hand on his chest. It was a wild gamble, but one that you hoped would explain your nervous energy.

He stiffened, surprised at the sudden contact. Then, as if he remembered himself, his hands grabbed you, pulling you in tightly against him. You had been told over and over that vampires were monsters, cold and heartless, but the heat radiating from him was overwhelming. He was so gentle and his lips were so soft. He pulled away, his eyes boring into yours. You were sure that he could see into your soul, see all the secrets and plans you were hiding. But, if he did, he didn't say anything.

"Well," he said, releasing you and straightening his suit jacket, "I'll see you tomorrow then."

You were about to say something when he was gone. You let out a sigh of relief, slumping against the shelves.

"Shit," you whispered.

You could see your path now, the way forward to victory, to eliminate the world of vampires. You took a deep breath and steadied yourself. You couldn't fail, not now, not when you had come so far.

All that was required was that you seduce a monster.

{Part Two}{Part Three}{Part Four}

[mk-wizard]

This is possibly the most random idea ever, but if I was to make a Shattered Glass version of Transformers One, the most crucial thing I would not change was Orion Pax and D-16 being friends, miners and their ambitions.

What I would flip is how each character's ambitions would be translated. D-16 accepting that he is a miner and wanting to focus on that would be flipped in a positive way in that he is humble, accepts himself and believes in hard work to get ahead. And he does want to get ahead, but the RIGHT way without skipping crucial steps and while playing fair. In other words, his mentality of "we're miners, we mine" is not him settling. It's him accepting that doing his damn job will get him ahead in life which technically, is not wrong. Hard work does get you ahead in life most of the time, but if the system is broken (which unfortunately it is), then you're justified in changing.

In Orion Pax's case, his ambitions of believing himself to be meant for something greater is rooted more in ego and delusion. He also takes not focusing on his work a lot further as he tends to sneak out way too much not to get into the archives, but to do stuff like gamble and such. That is another thing that separates SG Orion Pax from the other guy. He doesn't take risks as a leap of faith. He takes them solely out of foolishness and thoughtlessness. Also, his risks tend not to pay off. Most notably, he wants to get to fame, fortune and more the easy way as he feels a sense of entitlement to it.

Most notably, instead of there being an Iacon Race, there's an Iacon fighting tournament in the arena where it is an all out brawl and the last bot standing wins. A lot of bots suggest to D-16 that he joins because he's built like a tank and is as strong as one, but he's a pacifist and doesn't like hurting other bots. Plus, the risk of winding up dead or crippled does not appeal to him because the odds are still against him and he would rather be able to keep doing his job. One day, Orion enlists him without his knowledge or consent. In spite of not wanting to be there, D-16 WINS the fight because he is a natural fighter and survivor. It is also revealed that before he was a miner, he was a gladiator, but switched careers once he was able to buy his freedom. Even though he won, he is NOT happy that he did because of what he had to do.

The rest of the film plays out the same way, except the big moment. When D-16 is faced with shooting Sentinel... he freezes upon realizing how everyone around him is looking at him. It reminds him of how people looked at him with fear and like a monster when he was a gladiator, so he sobers and gives this speech.

"I hate you. You took my energy, my hopes, my life goals and my LIFE!! I want to kill you!... But I won't because if I do that, you'll take the one last thing I have: my dignity and I'm done giving you everything. And now that everyone sees you for the fake you are, you can't take anything from ANYONE anymore, so I'm going to let you live, BUT you're going to spend it giving back to the society you ruined. Starting with this."

Then he forcefully opens up his cog port and removes Megatronus' cog. As a side effect, Sentinel depowers into a pathetic weak looking little bot who dwarfs compared to D-16. That is when Orion suggests they use the cog to become the new leaders, but D refuses saying that he will not follow Sentinel's path nor will he reduce a true Prime's remains to a tool. This is when Orion has had enough of D-16 always holding him back, he fights D-16 for the cog and in doing so, pushes him off the ledge while he is still alive and falls into the abyss. While this is happening, Orion inserts the cog into himself and powers up before dragging Sentinel into the crowd. When he does, he watches them tear Sentinel apart with glee. Meanwhile, D-16 makes contact with the spirit of Megatronus who informs him that his code of honour, unbreakable spirit in the face of Deception and act of mercy has made him worthy in the eyes of Primus. In doing so, he gets rewarded with the Matrix of Leadership and dubbed as Megatron Prime, BUT he is also given the task of leading Transformers to a new age as the Autobot age is over and was one based on deception, so the new Transformers will now be called Decepticons.

Megatron Prime then faces off with powered up Orion, beats him and while he does, smashes his face in such a way that he completely destroys his lower jaw. Orion leaves with some guys, gets a mechanical lower jaw which also transforms into his mask and is pissed that the Matrix was given to Megatron. So he renames himself Nemesis Prime to symbolize what he is to his ex-friend now and to how HE should be Prime. Meanwhile, Megatron Prime honours his mission and does not forget about the people who supported him. The first thing he does is abolish the gladiator games and slavery.

PS: SG Elita-One is not a miner. She is a spoiled rich young woman who is one of Sentinel's many mistresses and a girl Orion had his eye on for a while. In the end, she goes with Nemesis because she's a gold digger and sees potential in him, and because even in this universe, she has fallen for him. I also call her Alita-Nill to differentiate her from her good counterpart. Megatron Prime has a girl too who is Nightingale (SG Nightbird) who is an aspiring singer and waitress as Maccadam's bar. As for B... he was always mute and is much more shy person. He joins Megatron because he was always so kind and protective of him like a brother figure. Also the "Rise Up!" catchphrase is turned on its head to be positive as in "Keep moving forward" or "Don't give up!"

What do you all think?

[gorbo-longstocking]

Do Not Blame the Sea | Chapter 6

Pairing: Emperor Geta/Reader, Emperor Caracalla/Reader

Summary: You are not yourself. How can you be after the realization that this is your life now? What you thought was a long, neverending dream is actually reality. At this realization, you find the world and your sense of self begin to slip away between your fingers. The emperors notice, and Caracalla attempts to help you. Poorly.

Tags: Very severe dissociation from a POV character including both derealization and depersonalization, major emotional breakdown, implications of period-typical slavery, self-harm via negligence, injuries, homesickness, Caracalla is bad at comforting, low self-worth from reader, and implications of reader’s toxic relationship with their parents. I think that’s everything.

Word Count: 6.5k Words

Read on AO3

Masterlist.

The days blurred together into nothing more than a foggy haze. Your head hurt. It hurt and that terrified you. There was only one reason why you could feel pain, and you struggled to keep it caged in the back of your mind where it shrieked and writhed as if it had a will of its own. Think, remember, realize, it screamed. You had to cover your ears to drown it out. Unbelievably scared and absolutely sick with terror, your stomach would lurch every time those realizations returned. It was only locked away in the safety of your clinic, the praetorian in the adjacent room, and away from prying eyes, did you allow yourself to curl in on yourself. To feel this horror, if only for a second. A single, relieving, aching moment in time before you locked it back away, deep inside your chest where it belonged. Where it clawed at your ribcage and tore at your lungs.

This was something you couldn’t think about, wouldn’t dare to ponder, and yet…

And yet—

Your hands trembled as you reorganized your surgical instruments. Again and again, for two days, you would complete your duties in a mindless haze, then return to your clinic to stare at your tools. They were deceptively sharp. Your hands were covered in little cuts, bandaged haphazardly. Carelessness got you hurt, and you tried not to think about how your hands stung with every movement. The room felt fake, it was proof that you were right all along. Your body didn’t feel like it was your own. When you stared down at yourself, the way it moved, seemingly stuttering behind your actual instructions in a way that made you feel you were in a bad video game. You knew the truth.

It was more proof that this wasn’t real. A figment of your stress-addled mind, that was all this was. You hadn’t defied all logic, all science, and time-traveled back to Ancient Rome, because that was impossible. One day, you would wake up in your bed and this nightmare would be over.

You looked down at your injured fingers, blood blooming across the bandages. Then why did it hurt? Why could you feel pain? It wasn’t until you felt an ache radiate down your spine did you realize you were picking at one of the welts Caracalla left behind. There was a scab over it, the cost of all of your inspections.

You looked at the scalpel, glinting sharp in the torchlight. It was time to count that one too.

The events of the past two days were strange. While you could remember what happened, it felt far away, as if it had happened to someone who wasn’t you. A person wearing your skin, speaking with your voice, but, in the end, was separate from who you were. A clone, or a puppet, dancing on strings that belonged to no one.

That was who you were: no one.

It was hard to be ‘someone,’ and it wasn’t until you became empty did you realize the complexities of being. The choices that came with every day, gone, the simplicity of wading through it all on autopilot as the world writhed and shifted around you, just as empty as yourself. It was intoxicating. Why would you ever go back to how it was before? For once, living was easy, you would be a fool to give that up. Deep down, you knew it was wrong. That you should be fighting to stay present rather than sink away into the swamp inside your head.

Right now, being a person came with consequences, ones you didn’t have the faculties to fight through. Not right now, maybe not ever. One day, you would wake up in modernity, and all of this nonsense would fade away like every other dream you had. You had to cling to that.

“My friend,” Aelius began, his tone soft. It wasn’t until he spoke did you realize his hand was on your shoulder. His skin was darker than the hair on his arms that if it wasn’t so prominent that it would be hard to see. Your gaze flickered from Marianus to stare at him. He looked worried. “Are you feeling alright?”

“Yes.” Your voice didn’t sound like your own. There was an emptiness to it that echoed in the open air. The first time you had patched Marianus’ wounds, Aelius was asleep. It made the situation easier to deal with. If you looked closely, you could see the concern swimming in Marianus’ dark eyes, though he didn’t voice it.

Aelius had no such reservations. If you didn’t feel so strange, maybe it would have made you angry. You didn’t know. There was a bite in your gut. “Marianus mentioned you were acting strange the previous day, and I see why now. I think you should rest, medicus.”

“I’m not done,” Came your reply. Your fingers twitched against Marianus’ chest. There was a hand wrapped around your wrist and you stared at it before following it to where it attached to the glenohumeral joint.

It belonged to Marianus. He was frowning, and you wanted to feel ashamed. “Medicus, you are no use to anyone like this.”

He was right. Distantly, you recognized how badly you were dissociating. This is worse than it had ever been, and truthfully, treating Marianus right now, you would be more of a hindrance than a help. Your pupils flickered when you felt a wave of shame wash over you before it was gone, replaced once more with a buzzing numbness.

“What’s wrong,” Aelius tried, his thumb attempting to soothe you by rubbing against your upper arm. “Perhaps we can help.”

“I am as I need to be,” You muttered. Gently, you ducked under Aelius’ arm and stood. The exit to the barracks looked distant, and each step you took, it seemed to get farther away. Behind you, Aelius and Marianus were speaking, but you couldn’t hear what they said. Maybe it was Marianus who shouted, or maybe it was Aelius. Like all things these days, they faded away into the background, simply more noise for you to drown out.

Static faded away into silence. Blessed, blissful silence as you walked down the palace halls, your unblinking gaze fixated in the distance. You were nothing again. For some reason, you felt embarrassed, but you couldn’t remember why. It was probably not very important.

The first night that you made Caracalla his chamomile tea, he wasn’t put off by your inability to speak. He was far too preoccupied by playing with your fingers, his own tangling with yours before he pulled away, again and again. You focused on the repetition. It was comforting. His soft skin against your own, damp with sweat, only to pull away. He would clench his fingers around yours, forcing a little resistance in the motion, almost as if you didn’t want him to let go.

He did this until he fell asleep. It was his snoring that jostled you. Caracalla’s mouth was open, drool seeping from between his lips onto his pillow. When you blinked, you were using the hem of your tunic to wipe his face dry. It was an effort in futility, you knew that much. He would only drool more when you left. Still, it felt like something you needed to do.

You didn’t know when you returned to your clinic.

The sun rose as blood from your fingers dribbled onto the floor. You had spent the entire night lining up your supplies, and your absent state left you more reckless than usual. Instead of patching yourself up, you watched the red liquid drip from the tips of your fingers and onto the floor. There was an audible, rhythmic plop. It reminded you of a clock ticking.

Plop, plop, plop.

When you looked down again, there were bandages where the cuts had been. You didn’t remember doing it, but it must have been you considering you were alone. You flexed your hands, and a whisper of pain sliced through your nerves. That awful realization howled in your chest as the world felt more blurry than before.

It was morning, you had to check on Marianus.

You were back in your clinic and the bleeding had stopped. Unfortunately, the blood you had forgotten to clean up before you left had dried to the floor. It would take a rag and some elbow grease to get up. There was a nagging sensation in the back of your skull that told you to clean up before the wrong person saw. Who was the wrong person? You didn’t know, you didn’t care.

Your arm ached from scrubbing.

The floor glistened in the sunlight by the time you were done. Sweat dripped from your face — or were those tears? — moistening the marble further. You felt yourself frown as you wiped it away. There, now there was no evidence that you had injured yourself. It wasn’t until you saw the bloody bandages draped around your fingers did you realize how stupid you were being.

“Alga!” The snap of your nickname startled you enough to wince. Pulling yourself so that you were kneeling, you stared up at Caracalla. He was frowning, his arms crossed. “Why are you scrubbing the floors? We have slaves for that. This is not work for a medicus of your caliber.”

Caracalla was angry with you. There was a strange squirming under your skin and your head throbbed, almost reminiscent of how he had beaten on it. Your lips parted and you blinked at him. His eyes darted to your mouth before his pupils dilated, taking in your position with a hunger that wasn’t there before.

“Huh?” You uttered.

That seemed to snap him out of his thoughts. Caracalla’s eyebrows furrowed and he reached down to brush his thumb over the welt on your forehead. A bit of anxiety sparked in his blue eyes, only to be drowned away by frustration. “Did I knock you stupid? I don’t remember it, but Geta tells me I threw a cup at you.”

“Oh. Yes, you did.” Now you were standing. Caracalla was a short man, and you didn’t know who was taller between you or him. Either way, you were eye level with him now. “You hit me, too. It h—” You cut yourself off with a choked noise. A split second of horror buzzed under your skin before it was gone, leaving you numb once more. “I’m fine, now. I think.”

“You think?” Caracalla repeated. He was scowling now. “Either you are, or you aren’t.”

“I don’t know,” You mumbled.

With an exasperated noise, Caracalla grabbed you by your upper arm and steered you toward your chair. There was no gentleness in the way he pushed you to sit. His eyebrows were knit as he glowered at you. Underneath it all, however, was an undercurrent of concern that he didn’t seem to know what to do with.

“Look around the room and tell me what you see!” He snapped and clapped his hands twice to signal it was your turn.

All you managed was to utter another ungraceful, “Huh?”

Caracalla huffed and clenched his fists at his sides. “You’re impossible! How did you do this? Smell me, medicus!”

You didn’t have time to lean back before he was in your space. With one hand, he tugged down the collar of his tunic to display his collarbone, and with the other, he yanked you forward by your hair. Practically limp in his grasp, you allowed him to drag your nose against your skin.

“Alga, tell me what I smell like!” He ordered, his grip tightening.

“Lavender. You always smell like lavender.”

Pleased, Caracalla let you go. He seemed proud of himself, almost glowing under the force of it. “There! You must feel better now, Alga.” When you didn’t look at him, your gaze fixated on the floor, his face split into frustration again. “This is ridiculous.” He shoved an accusing finger in your direction. “You’re being ridiculous!”

Again, you didn’t respond, though you did lift your gaze to stare at the digit invading your space.

“Say something to me,” He demanded.

“I apologize.”

That must not have been the response that Caracalla wanted because he drew back, puffed up like a furious cat. His fingers gripped your shoulders as he shook you with each word. “I do not want an apology, I want my medicus back!” A bit more desperate, he added, his eyes closed tightly. “Fix! Undo! Return to how you once were! If you are like this forever, I will never forgive you!”

Even after releasing you, he was breathing heavily. Nostrils flaring, he gave you a firm pat on the cheek in an effort to snap you out of your episode. Followed by another, harder this time. It did little to break the fog you found yourself in. Caracalla looked furious, his jaw set and his other hand balled tight at his side. In the end, however, underneath all of his fury, there was regret. He reached forward, gentle now, to run his hands over the knots he left on your head.

“Geta will know,” He mumbled to himself as he ran his nails over your scalp. You didn’t realize you were leaning into his touch until a cackle escaped Caracalla’s throat. “Yes, yes, you agree, don’t you? My brother will know how to make you better. Stay here, Alga, I won’t be long.”

When you looked up, Caracalla was gone. You were alone in your clinic again. Sitting in your chair, you began to unwrap the linen bandages that covered your hand to examine your cuts. Instead of with a scholarly mind, you were bleary, poking at the scabs with an experimental finger. If you pressed too hard on one, it would hurt, and your surroundings would tunnel even further. You didn’t remember why pain was such a bad thing, all you knew was that you didn’t want to think about it.

There was so much that you didn’t want to think about. It was all there, bubbling under the surface of your marrow, though you refused to let it run over. You couldn’t lose control like that, your parents would be furious with you. They’d find you even more pathetic than they already did. Geta and Caracalla would likely agree. Your parents were the smarter, better versions of yourself, you were simply a cheap knock-off. The thought of earning the emperors’ disdain even more than you already have made your heart squeeze tight in your chest.

Someone was snapping. Your eyes darted from your lap to see a hand directly in front of you. Caracalla was back, like he promised, with Geta bent at the waist, his brown eyes examining yours.

Satisfied, he straightened and allowed his arm to fall to his side. “He responds to noise. That’s a good sign.”

“Is it, brother? You are no physician,” Caracalla argued. His jaw was set in a hard line as he gestured to you. “Look at him! He’s in a state of— of—” He cut himself off with a frustrated noise.

“If you are going to be difficult, why fetch me? You wanted my help, so now you get it. Be happy with it,” Geta responded. While he was clearly displeased with his brother, his focus was entirely on you. “Medicus, are you in there? Your emperor demands a response.”

You parted your lips to reply, but you couldn’t bring your jaw to open. Ever so slightly, you felt your eyebrows twitch together. Geta let out a long suffering sigh.

“Alga, you…” He turned to Caracalla, lips pursed into a thin line. “What was his name again?”

“I don’t remember! It was some ridiculous, foreign noise, how am I supposed to remember that?” Caracalla was shouting now, his hands on his hips. His body shook ever so slightly as his gaze shifted from his brother back to you. With a vacant stare, you watched his expression morph from frustration to something imploring and sweet.

“Algacula,” He cooed. “Tell me and my brother what has happened with you, and we will give you a very generous treat.”

“There is nothing wrong with me,” You replied on instinct.

Both emperors drew back. Caracalla brought his fists to his face to let out a scream between clenched teeth, while Geta let out a disbelieving scoff.

“You are not yourself, medicus, anyone can see that. Now snap out of it, you are upsetting my brother.” You were back to being quiet. It made Geta’s eye twitch, and you noted that he had kohl smeared on the outside of his eyelid. It made him look more intimidating than usual. Without taking his gaze off you, he nudged Caracalla to the door. “Have a slave fetch your pet ape.”

A smile made Caracalla’s eyes light up with relief. “Yes, yes, Dondas. That is a good idea, brother, she always helps.”

Geta waited for Caracalla to be out of earshot before he gestured to your hands with a subtle sweep of his finger. “How did that happen, medicus? It looks like you have barely taken care of your own wounds. What use are you as a physician if you can’t even do that?”

“Huh?” You looked from Geta to your hands and softly closed your hands. A few scabs pulled taut, but none split open. All you could recognize was that it hurt. “I was not careful. It was an accident.”

Geta closed his eyes and released a breath. “Accidental, yes.”

Caracalla’s giggle, followed by an animalistic squeak drew your attention. Sitting on his shoulder in her own tunic, one that matched Caracalla’s in color, and a golden leash attached to the collar on her neck, was a little monkey. She was small enough to be cute rather than terrifying, you had heard enough horror stories about chimp attacks to ever want to be near one. Still, though, there was a Roman emperor standing before you with a monkey on his shoulder. You felt your brain throb as a stab of sheer disbelief cut through the haze, causing your nose to wrinkle and your eyes to widen.

“Is that a fucking monkey?” You asked in English.

Caracalla’s expression mirrored you as he ran his fingers through the monkey’s fur. “Brother, he is speaking nonsense.”

“That he is. You made it worse, Caracalla. Remove the ape.”

His hands tighten around the monkey’s golden leash. “You liar! Dondas was your idea!”

“It doesn’t matter whose idea it was, look at him, it’s obviously making whatever is wrong with him worse!” Geta threw his arm out at you, his patience fraying at the edges.

Caracalla looked at you, then back at the monkey, his disappointment coming off of him in waves. Carefully, he allowed her to run off his arm into the waiting hands of a young man, who graciously took her leash without a word.

It was silent for a moment, only to be broken by Caracalla. His voice was soft, barely a whisper. “Brother, you don’t think I caused this…”

“No, I recognize this,” Geta said, softer than you ever heard him. He placed a comforting hand on his brother’s shoulder. “This is what you are like after one of your outbursts, quiet and distant. I think what our medicus needs is time. He will come back, just as you always do.”

“He has been like this for over a day,” Caracalla hissed. “The praetorian I assigned to him told me.”

“We will assign guards to watch him at all times. Once he comes back, we will know immediately.” With a harsh sigh, Geta pinched the bridge of his nose. “Caracalla, we have duties to attend to today. Both of us. I don’t need you pining after an unresponsive physician while I juggle senators asking after you.”

Caracalla was ready to argue, glancing at you over his shoulder. “The senators are unimportant! We are the emperors, we should be able to do as we please. This is what pleases me.”

“Do not fight me on this, not now. Alga will be here when we are done, I’m certain of it. If they are not, the praetorian will fetch you.”

With narrowed eyes, Caracalla countered, “And you will allow me to leave?”

“Yes, brother, if that will get you to join me. Now, come.” Geta pressed his palm between his brother’s shoulder blades and began to force him out of your clinic.

Even as far away as you felt, you were able to recognize it wasn’t only Caracalla who gave you a final glance before the door shut.

It was dark now. Your reflection shone in the scalpel’s sharp metal as you held it up to the torchlight. The sight of yourself made your head spin. That wasn’t who you were, it couldn’t be. Dark circles lined your eyes and your hair hung in limp curtains around your face. If you looked closely, your roots were beginning to show. Once you woke up, you could dye it back to the green you liked so much.

“Wake up…” You murmured into the empty room. The sound of your voice almost startled you, it had been hours since there was another person in your clinic aside from yourself. Maybe days, maybe weeks, maybe months, maybe years.

There was a long cut on your palm. Blood bubbled from it as your scalpel clattered to the floor. Your hands were no longer bandaged, you didn’t remember when you removed them, nor why you didn’t bandage them once more. Staring down at the cut, you could only think one thing as it oozed red:

It hurt.

Inside your chest, your heart began to pound. It squeezed and thudded, filling your veins with adrenaline. It felt as though ants were marching under your skin, their little legs prickling along the folds of your muscles.

It hurt.

Tears began to flow down your cheeks, scorching and silent. Your lips trembled as your breath hitched and snot bubbled from your nostrils.

It hurt.

You couldn’t breathe. Weeping, heart thundering, you couldn’t breathe, no matter how hard you tried. Desperately, you clawed at your chest, an attempt to rip yourself open before everything you had been avoiding spilled from you in a white-hot frenzy. All you managed to do was smear blood in your tunic, settled next to the dried drool from Caracalla’s slumber.

You could never go home and it hurt.

“Oh, god!” You gasped. The speed at which you stood sent your chair clattering behind you. Your hands ached as you clutched at yourself, at your head, at your chest, at your leaking eyes. All you could hear was your own ragged breathing. “Oh, god! Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

This was no dream, you knew that now. There was no hiding from it anymore. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t fill your lungs with air. You weren’t dreaming, this was real. Rome was real, the emperors were real, Aelius and Marianus were real, every person who called this palace home was real. It was all disgustingly real.

You were running now. Out of the clinic and down the halls, you were sprinting like a mad man. Upon turning a corner, your body slammed into the wall and a sob ripped from your throat with a ball of saliva. It dripped down your chin, and you pushed yourself onward on shaking legs. You needed to see, to prove to yourself that you hadn’t lost your mind, and there was only one sight that you could think of that would prove that to you.

The one place you had avoided looking since you arrived.

Grass stained your tunic. You had tripped on the small step leading to the imperial gardens, causing you to skid through the foliage. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t force yourself to stand. Each time you managed, your knees gave out on you, sending you back to the ground.

In the end, it didn’t matter. You didn’t have to be on your feet to look up.

To see the stars in all their glory.

Above your head was a tapestry of glittering silver, more beautiful than you had ever seen it. The sky was a beautiful mix of purple and blue, the moon nestled in its edges, full and bright enough to cast a milky glow on the gardens. There were constellations you didn’t recognize, but so many that you knew the name for. Ursa major, Orion’s belt, Cassiopeia, Perseus, you listed as you felt a scream begin to form in your chest. It was a strange mix of uncanny and familiar that only served to make your tear ducts leak all the more. You squeezed your eyes shut before you opened them again to see nothing had changed. The stars, ever present, even when the modern city lights emptied the sky of their shine, laughed down at you.

You could never imagine a sight such as this. No part of your brain could ever conjure this night sky, not in a million years. This splendor, the pain that flowered from your palms, none of this could ever have come from you on your own. Pathetic, worthless you, so far from everything you knew, with no hope of return.

You would never get drinks with your coworkers after a long shift again. You would never see the rare bits of your mother’s approval, or your father’s awkward hugs. You would never have chocolate, or have coffee, or eat a burger again. You would never enter the hospital where you worked.

Everything you were, everything you had, you watched it fade away under the everpresent stars.

A sob so strong it was almost a gag caused you to double over. Snot and saliva mingled with the salty taste of your tears. Your hands clawed at your neck under the weight of the keening wails you couldn’t hear, but you knew you were making. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t turn it off this time. Weeks of repression had come back to bite you in the ass as a catastrophic breakdown. It wasn’t new, you had always been like this. Pushing onward, wading through the muck until you couldn’t take it anymore.

“I— I can’t— Breathe. I can’t— Help me— I can’t…” The words fell from your lips in sporadic English, followed with a bubble of snot when you tried to exhale through your nose.

So caught up in your own panic, you didn’t realize you weren’t alone anymore.

Not until a sharp bark echoed behind you, sounding both furious and scandalized, “Who made you cry?”

Now, more than ever, you wished this was a dream. You recognized that voice, it had become such a familiar one since you fucking time-traveled that you could never hope to forget it. Caracalla was here to see you break apart at the seams. Another gasp left you, and in a desperate attempt to hide, you curled your knees to your chest and covered your face with your hands.

“Alga! Who made you cry?” Caracalla was closer now. When he reached down to shake you by the shoulder, you realized he was next to you. His grip was harsh, just as Caracalla always was. Rough and unyielding. “Tell me now! Tell me who made my medicus cry!”

For some reason, his insistence irritated you. Ripping your hands from your face, you could taste your own blood on your lips. You must have smeared it across your face. “Me! I did! This is my fault, and now I— and now I cannot stop!”

Caracalla frowned. If he was taken aback by you shouting at him, he didn’t show it. He merely looked annoyed. “Yes, you can. Tell yourself to stop crying and you will.”

“Is that— Is that how it works for you, Caesar?” You sneered. It was cruel of you to throw his own issues back at him, but all you could think about was breathing again. Caracalla narrowed his eyes at you, though he said nothing. Talking irritated your throat, and you coughed a few times to soothe the ache. All it did was make it hurt more.

Everything hurt.

Your face crumpled again, and you must have looked pathetic because Caracalla’s scowl softened. Not enough to be kind, only enough to go from furious to frustrated. He crouched down and pawed at your face, attempting to wipe it dry. Each time he managed, more tears escaped from the corners of your eyes. It ruined his progress. Caracalla got rougher the more your body defied him.

“What is wrong with you, medicus? One moment, you will barely respond, the next, you are more hysterical than a woman in childbirth.” He was kneeling now, working tirelessly to clean your filthy face. Desperate for comfort, you grabbed his wrists and leaned into his palms.

By now, your crying had become miserable sniffles as fat tears rolled off your chin. “I can— I can never go home, Caesar.”

“Yes, I am aware.” He looked perplexed as the heel of his palm pressed into your nose. It wasn’t gentle, and it made you move to pull away. Caracalla didn’t let you, his fingers tightening against the flesh of your cheek. “It is as you told me and my brother when we hired you. Your strange little country will never let you pass through its borders again. Why is this a problem now, medicus? Or have you been lying to me?”

“I thought— I thought I could go back, I thought they’d let me in,” You choked out. It was hard to both speak Latin and weave lies into truth in the state you were in now. “I thought this was not—- not r- real and— How can this be real?”

Rather than use his own tunic, Caracalla lifted the hem of yours to wipe away snot from your upper lip. He was frowning again, eyebrows knit. “Of course this is real. I can barely make sense of what you are saying, Alga. You sound more ridiculous than usual.”

“I miss my mom, and my dad—” You were blubbering now, your fingers tangling with Caracalla’s. “— And my coworkers, and my superiors! I will never see them again!” There was an intake of air, signaling he was about to respond, only for you to bulldoze over him. “I will never be able to have chocolate, or coffee, or any other foods from home again.”

Caracalla placed his hand over your mouth and forced your lips shut. “I will have the kitchens make you whatever your heart desires if you will stop this crying! Who cares about your mater, or your pater, or anyone else. They are gone and I am here. That is better than what they have to offer. I can give you more than they could ever hope to, and here you are crying over them instead of being grateful for me.”

When you spoke again, it was muffled by his hand. Caracalla seemed to debate with himself, looking away for a moment, before he removed his palm from your lips.

“I have lost everything,” You whispered, glassy eyes staring up at him.

He huffed, and if you had to guess, he was frustrated his words didn’t sink in.

“Yes, you have!” He agreed bluntly. “Think of what you have gained, Alga. The favor of an emperor, a palace to lay your head to rest, skills that surpass every medicus in Rome! You are hopeless if you cannot see that you have gained more than you have lost.”

You wanted to keep crying. It couldn’t be that simple to soothe you, but his words, though harsh, were logical. Back home, back in the future, you weren’t happy. You had everything, yet, at the end of the day, you were miserable. Maybe that was how it would be in Rome, too. It was possible you were simply broken so completely that there was no hope of joy in your future.

It was also possible that your happiness laid in this miraculous event that defied every inch of your world view. That made sense, in a disturbing way. Everything Caracalla said made sense, even if you didn’t want it to.

“My parents didn’t even like me,” Your voice was thick as you spoke. At least the tears stopped.

Caracalla smiled, a sense of triumph in his eyes. “It is as I say, Alga. You are wanted in Rome, where in your country, even your parents didn’t want you. See how much you have gained? You should be rejoicing.”

“I am scared, Caesar.” You shook your head, far more calm than you were before. “Everything is so different in Rome. I fear that I will ruin everything by being here.”

“Then you will bring ruin.” Caracalla shrugged, his grin growing with each second that you weren’t crying. “Let it break, let it shatter in your grasp. Your Caesar will have it cleaned and you can return to his side, fat and happy.”

The assurance shouldn’t have steadied you as much as it did. Caracalla was unpredictable. While he may be attached to you now, how long would that last? You looked at his face, earnest and open in a way that betrayed his immaturity, his eyes gleaming as his thumbs traced the outlines of your face, careful to collect any wetness that remained. If there was one thing that you knew, now more than ever, it was that Emperor Caracalla was no liar. Even if the truth of his words changed in the future, for now, at least, he meant every word.

Hopefully, that would give you enough time to work out a backup plan. For once, you felt calm.

“Thank you, Caesar.” Against all odds, a tired smile made your lips twitch upwards. “I look forward to being your physician until you grow tired of me.”

Caracalla’s expression turned mischievous now that he was certain your outburst was over. Crawling closer to you, he pressed his hands against your thighs to uncurl your knees from your chest. With an ungraceful flop, he laid his head in your lap to stare up at you. “Good, good. I believe that I deserve a reward for suffering through your hysteria.”

“Would you like to watch the stars with me, Caesar?” Despite feeling better, you still sounded watery.

Impatient and uncaring now that you were no longer weeping, Caracalla grabbed your wrist to bring it to his hair. For a moment, he stared at the cut on your palm, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. His eyes flickered to your splotchy, still damp face. You startled when he tangled your fingers in his hair. “What is so special about the stars? They are the same as they are every night.”

“They don’t look so beautiful in my country.” It was grounding to play with Caracalla’s hair. His soft curls tickled the cuts on your fingers and his eyes fluttered shut with a soft hum once you began your ministrations.

“How can the stars look different in your country? Is it truly so far away?”

“Further than you could ever imagine, Caesar. In the cities, the streets are lined with torches that glow brighter than any you have ever seen. For the entire night, they are on, protecting travelers and showing off merchant’s wares. The city is so big and so bright, it drowns out the stars, making the sky empty, save for the moon.”

“Sounds like an awful place, melimelum.” Caracalla opened his eyes to search your face, testing you. “You are better off in my Empire. Here, you can see the stars in all their glory.”

“Yes.” Craning your neck, you took in the velvet sky one last time. “More beautiful than I’ve ever seen.” You took a deep breath, finally filling your lungs to the brink, then exhaled. “I apologize for my outburst.”

“You should,” Caracalla said, leaning into your touch. “I will not be so gentle next time. A good slap would have knocked sense into you faster.”

“Caesar, that would have made me cry more,” You weren’t able to swallow the incredulous laugh that bubbled in your throat.

Caracalla’s shoulders jumped in a lazy shrug. There was a hint of smug pride in his smile. “I would calm you, then. I have once already, how much harder could a second be?”

“I will be there to calm you as well,” You said, tugging at his bangs.

Before Caracalla could respond, the sound of footsteps on the walkway behind you drew your attention. When you turned, there was Geta, late to the party once more. He took in your red rimmed eyes and tear stained face with an air of urgency. It wasn’t until you gave him a small smile and a wave did his posture slump.

“Medicus, what are you doing in the gardens so late at night?”

Caracalla sat up to glare at Geta over his shoulder, your fingers still tangled in his hair. Your own expression was a juxtaposition to his, tired amusement etched into your features. “I needed to see the stars. They are beautiful tonight.”

“The stars? So, you can respond again,” Geta said, exasperated. “And somehow, my brother has found his way into your embrace for another night.”

“I calmed him down, brother.” Caracalla sat up, his breath was hot against the shell of your ear, making your face burn. It sounded almost like he was rubbing it in Geta’s face.

Geta glanced at you, his eyebrows raised. “Did he now?”

“Your brother has a way with words.” More so than you expected. Caracalla’s grin grew even more, showing off his teeth.

Rolling his eyes, Geta let out a scoff. “You are the first person to say that about Caracalla, and now he is certain to be insufferable because of it.”

“I have a way with words, brother. Perhaps I should be the one to speak to the senate tomorrow.” With his arms draped over each side of your collarbone, Caracalla rested his chin on your shoulder. You didn’t know if he was serious or not. Judging by Geta’s grimace, he was.

Now that Caracalla’s attention was on his brother, you mouthed a silent apology to Geta. He responded by pursing his lips at you, clearly displeased. With a flick of his wrist, he gestured to Caracalla. “Come, brother, off to bed. If you are to speak with the senate tomorrow, you must do so with a clear mind.”

“Come with me?” Came his whisper, lips brushing against your ear. The scent of lavender was stronger now. It made your head spin, not unlike earlier, but far more pleasant.

Gently, you pushed him away as you pried his arms from around your neck. “Tonight, someone else will make your medicine, Caesar. I must take care of my wounds.”

Disappointment and confusion made his face scrunch, though he stood with little effort on your part. “Tomorrow night, then.”

“Of course, Caesar.”

Caracalla stared down at you, his gaze heavy, before he let out a huff and trudged to Geta’s side. You offered both emperors a farewell. The relief on Geta’s features was too slight for you to notice in your exhausted state. Without waiting for either’s footsteps to fade, you laid down on your back to face the sky.

The stars were smiling now.

Only in the past could they do something so quaint to someone like you.

A/N: Helloooooo, this was a hard chapter to write, I’m not gonna lie. Alga’s dissociation is based off my own experiences with derealization and depersonalization, which made it hard to type out without accidentally making myself fall into the mindset. However, do not worry, my friends! I am fine, yay! I’m actually pretty proud over how I wrote their hashtag Episode. In an effort to convey just how disjointed time feels, along with their memory, I wrote events out of order in the first half. I hope it was conveyed well!

For anyone who didn’t catch it, Geta one hundred percent believed that the injuries on Alga’s hands were purposely self-inflicted. If they were, he would have assigned more praetorians to them and have them under supervision 25/8. Caracalla is clearly very attached and he’s not risking losing the only other person who can calm his brother. Speaking of Geta, I am sooooo sorry Geta enjoyers for the Caracalla wave we are under. Next chapter will have a major Geta moment, I swear to you.

And, finally, we can address the fact that Caracalla’s got a bit of a crush. It first manifested after the needle incident, stewing for a few days, and by the time he gives the needle back to Alga, it’s like a little sprout. After they calmed him down from his flashback, it’s a full ass rosebush. From how I’m writing it, I think it’s unfamiliar to Caracalla to have this particular feeling. He knows lust, but these feelings are far too innocent for him to really know what to do with. Like, of course He Wonts Them sooooo fucking bad, but also, he does just genuinely like being near them. It makes him feel giddy. It’s new and he may or may not be obsessed with how he feels when he gets to be near them.

During Alga’s episode, they are, uhhhh, way too out of it to truly understand the depth of Caracalla’s affections. Most of what he said in the gardens didn’t properly register, so they’re like both oblivious and aware as to how Caracalla is obsessed with them. It’s a mess. Also, he did NOOOOT mean for them to make him his medicine when he asked them to join him. Not in the SUH-LIGHTEST. Yesssss, come back to his bedroom so he can seduce you. You want to so bad, ooooooo.

Oh, and before I forget. Algacula is my attemot at making 'Alga' a diminutive petname. ‘Cula’ means little, and a lot of Latin petnames have that. Like melculum (little honey) and anaticula (little duck). Melimelum is another Latin petname that means “honey apple.” Most of Caracalla’s petnames tend to be overly sweet.

Finally, oh my god, thank you guys for the feedback last chapter!!! It was so sweet and I was rocking back and forth from sheer joy. Obligatory like, comment, and subscribe!!! You don’t have to, but I won’t lie. It does encourage me to write more 😭😭

Thank you for reading, bye, ily!!!!

taglist: @snazzynacho @t6gse370 @cherrysweets-world @justlibra @001mon

[gear-project]

Okay, what's going on with Unika using the Thunder Seal to transform herself? Is this an offshoot form of Lightning Install from GG Isuka where Ky (presumably) does the same by enhancing himself with the amplified magic from his OutRage weapon? Can Sol or Anji perform this, or is it unique to Unika because she's a Command Type Gear?

I was just about to cover this, actually.

Weapons Free isn’t simply an air combo in nature:

In actuality it is the same as Order Sol’s Dragon Install “Killing World” Rave Combo.

The additional Final Blow, called “Star Deviation: Annihilate” is actually a reference to the original Guilty Gear X inputs for a Dust Attack. As in, by pressing Slash and HeavySlash together would produce the stronger Dust attack (Or Dust Strike lane attack, in Dust Strikers and Isuka terms). In matter of fact the word “Star Deviant” is a subtle wordplay on “Sol Badguy’s” namesake!

Because Ky clearly still holds the Thunderseal OutRage in his possession (and never once makes mention of lending the weapon to Unika) in all likelihood it is a form of OutRage Resonance.

Unika already has the power to Amplify and transform Magic, the EXACT same power as any OutRage Jinki Instroment normally has.

In this “Installed Form” her hair changes, her Wings and Tail appear, so she probably summons a proxy of the OutRage to channel her Magic in to.

Normally she would likely never have known the OutRage even existed, since she came from an era where Gears were destroying themselves and Humans were barely surviving at all.

She also used a similar technology to reproduce the Control Device used to activate the Magic Satellite Weapon in Dual Rulers: a technology that can replicate any device from hand contact.

But because OutRage aren’t easily replicated, she uses her power to resonate with the genuine article, much the same way that Tyr from Guilty Gear Xtra Manga can resonate with the Sacred Treasures.

Meeting her real biological Father, Ky Kiske, probably had a major impact on her emotionally, compared to the stark contrast of her suffering under Nerville Hammer’s manipulation, deception, and revulsion of her.

The appearance of the Thunderseal, even by proxy, is a symbol of that connection with her family.

As for the other OutRage, not just anyone can make them manifest: they require a “hidden cost” to even be used. While OutRage can transform to suit their wielders, there has never been a case where the OutRage completely transformed the wielder: with only ONE EXCEPTION.

The Shape-shifting Bio-organic Armor OutRage Justice wore.

Justice’ armor is the only known weapon to have such a property, though it does not expand on Justice to further transform her appearance and powers during Omega Shift: Justice’ equivalent to Dragon Install.

Many Gears have a shape shifting power, as do Valentines to a certain extent, but that power has never precisely come from an OutRage directly, except for Justice, who had the Magic Capacity to wield the armor as a Backyard protection device.

You could argue that Nagoriyuki’s Gashadokuro blade can transform in proportion to his bloodlust, but that is a supernatural sword, similar to a cursed blade than something made by Humans or Scientists studying Magic Physics. Bedman’s Bedframe borrows a similar principle with using Dream Demons called Oneroi, but I digress.

To sum up, while it is a technology common in Unika’s future era to replicate tech from hand contact, reproduction of Instroment enchanted tools like the OutRage is not as easy.

In this regard, recreating the Thunderseal is a power exclusive to Unika alone, and proof of her bond with her family.

[nomimits7]

Limerence: The Iron Pact | 4

The Game Of Control

Title: Limerence: The Iron Pact

Pairing: Taehyung x OT6

Warnings: Manipulation. Gaslighting. Violence. There is implied incest, BUT it's not because they lied. Betrayal. and trust issues. themes of deception and a staged assassination attempt. Scenes of violence, injury, and psychological coercion are present. Reader discretion is advised. If I left out any major tags, please let me know. I will add more later.

Summary:

In a kingdom where power is everything, Taehyung is a mercenary with a dark past and a dangerous secret—one he doesn’t even know exists. Six powerful figures, each with their own motives, see him as the key to their ambitions. A reluctant prince, a tormented warlord, a prophetic seer, a cunning vizier, a rival claimant, and a high priest—all are willing to do whatever it takes to win his loyalty.

But Taehyung is no pawn. His bloodline is tied to a lost empire, and the untapped power within him could reshape the future. As the six men vie for his trust, they’ll soon discover that controlling him may be more difficult than they thought... and the price of failure is deadly.

Waking up with the thoughts swirling around Seokjin’s words was not in Taehyung’s daily plan. To be fair, his plan only consisted of waking up, stretching, maybe using the bathroom to freshen up, sneaking past the guards at the door (because apparently, they took his safety very seriously), going for a walk, and sneaking poached fruit into his room before any of them could figure out he was gone.

But like most things lately, that did not happen.

Perhaps it was because of what Seokjin had said to him. Those words of comfort, the offer of companionship. The possibility of having someone to trust, to lean on. Someone who could be his friend, his protector. It was tempting. Far too tempting.

Yet the whispers of doubt would not silence themselves. They grew louder, gnawing at him with merciless persistence.

Hadn’t it all been too convenient? Jimin appearing just when his dreams had been restless. Seokjin with his gentle eyes and soothing words when he felt most alone. Yoongi with his training sessions that felt more like traps than guidance. Hoseok’s easy smile, masking something far more calculating. The High Priest’s assurances of safety. They all offered him something, but at what cost?

But Seokjin... Seokjin had seemed sincere. His words carried warmth that Taehyung craved like air. And that was the problem.

What if it was all part of their game? What if Seokjin’s kindness was only a tool to draw him in, to make him believe in them until he was nothing but a puppet dancing to their tune?

He didn’t want to believe that. Because if Seokjin’s concern was genuine, then... perhaps he wasn’t alone. Perhaps he had something real.

But how could he know for sure?

Taehyung’s hands clenched around the fabric of his sheets. The confusion tangled his thoughts, leaving him at war with himself. His trust was a fragile thing, battered and torn by too many betrayals. But this... this was different. Or so he wanted to believe.

He wanted to believe Seokjin meant it. That there was more behind those tender looks and quiet words than strategy.

But he couldn’t forget the way the others moved around him, like circling wolves cloaked in velvet.

His head dropped forward. Maybe this was all a mistake. Maybe he was just projecting hope onto a situation that had none.

Still...

He couldn’t shake the feeling of Seokjin’s hand resting near his, the brush of his lips a memory that lingered far too long.

He hated how much he wanted that to be real.

“Are you alright?”

The voice made him flinch, his gaze snapping toward the door where Seokjin stood, eyes filled with concern.

“I thought I’d check on you,” Seokjin continued, his tone careful, gentle. “You looked troubled when I saw you sleeping.”

“How long have you been here?” Taehyung asked, his voice rough from disuse.

“Not long,” Seokjin assured him with a small smile. “I wanted to make sure you were alright. But I can leave if you want.”

The offer to leave was almost too perfect. Like Seokjin was giving him a choice. But Taehyung couldn’t find the words to send him away. Instead, he found himself speaking without thinking.

“I just... It’s hard to know who to trust.”

Seokjin’s expression softened, and he stepped further into the room, as if approaching a wounded animal. “I understand. With everything you’ve been through, it’s only natural. But I meant what I said before. I’m here for you. No strings attached.”

Taehyung’s laugh was brittle, forced. “No strings? Isn’t that what all of you say? That you’re here to help me, to protect me? But how do I know it’s true?”

Seokjin’s shoulders slumped, and for a moment, something like genuine pain flickered in his eyes. “Because it’s not about kingdoms or power or duty. It’s about you. I care about you, Taehyung. Maybe... Maybe more than I should.”

The admission left Taehyung stunned, words caught in his throat. His suspicion wavered, unsteady and crumbling under the weight of Seokjin’s earnestness.

“What if I choose not to believe you?” Taehyung asked, voice trembling.

“Then that’s your choice,” Seokjin replied, his voice thick with something desperate, something real. “But I hope you’ll give me the chance to prove myself. That’s all I ask.”

The sincerity was maddening. It chipped away at Taehyung’s doubts, leaving him torn between suspicion and longing. But what scared him most was how much he wanted to believe.

Seokjin’s gaze remained on him, unwavering. “I know you’re afraid. And I know you feel lost. But you don’t have to be alone. Not if you don’t want to be.”

Taehyung’s throat tightened, and he lowered his gaze to his hands. “I... I don’t want to be alone.”

“Then let me stay,” Seokjin whispered. “Just for a while. Just until you find your way.” Seokjin said as he leaned closer until their lips were a mere breath apart.

And for once, Taehyung didn’t push him away.

***

The next morning, Taehyung returned to training. But his movements were tense, hesitant, as if he was bracing himself for the sting of betrayal. Every word of encouragement, every touch of reassurance felt heavy, like honey laced with poison. And yet, he couldn’t stop himself from seeking it.

Yoongi refused to spar with him that day, his eyes avoiding Taehyung’s with an unease that spoke of something deeper. Even Jungkook’s attempts at friendliness were met with Taehyung’s careful distance, his gaze flickering between acceptance and distrust.

Seokjin was there, watching him carefully from the sidelines. His eyes never left Taehyung, tracking every movement, every falter.

And then the King entered the courtyard.

It was only for a moment, a passing presence flanked by guards. But it was enough. The sight of him struck fear into Taehyung’s chest like an icy blade. He froze.

Then, as if trying to shake off the paralysis, he turned and called out to one of the sparring soldiers. “Again,” he demanded. “Harder.”

The soldier hesitated, then nodded.

They clashed again. Taehyung pushed harder, driven by something deeper than pride—by fear, by confusion, by the overwhelming need to prove something.

A single misstep.

Taehyung lost his balance, the world spinning sideways. He hit the ground hard, breath knocked from his lungs.

Seokjin and Yoongi were on him in an instant. Voices of concern echoed around him.

“Taehyung!” Seokjin’s arms cradled him before he could push himself up. “Don’t move—are you hurt?”

“I’m fine,” Taehyung rasped, wincing.

Yoongi’s face was grim. “Call Jungkook.”

The High Priest arrived swiftly, kneeling beside them with practiced calm. His hands hovered over Taehyung, assessing him.

“He’s alright,” Jungkook said, but his tone was laced with worry. “Just rattled. He needs rest.”

Seokjin didn’t let go. He helped Taehyung to his feet, an arm tight around his waist. “Come. I’ll take you back.”

Later, after Jungkook confirmed he would recover with rest, the six gathered behind closed doors.

“He’s cracking,” Namjoon said quietly. “You saw it. The kiss with Seokjin... the fall. He’s more fragile than he lets on.”

Yoongi crossed his arms. “We need to be careful. If we push too hard—”

“Then we lose him,” Jimin finished, frowning. “But if we don’t act now, he might slip away. He’s still questioning everything.”

“We need to show him our cards,” Hoseok said. “Or at least let him think we are. If he believes we’ve come clean, that we trust him enough to be honest, he’ll follow.”

“He already trusts Seokjin,” Jungkook added. “We use that.”

“But that’s not enough,” Jimin said, brow furrowed. “He still doubts. Still pulls away. He is like a lost child who has never experienced care. Dare I even say love? His parent kicked him out at the ripe age of ten. He doesn't know what trust is. Even his deepest, darkest dreams are filled with betrayal, hurt,t and abandonment." 

 “He’s scared. We need to appear open. Let him feel like he has power. Like we trust him.” Seokjin murmured.

“I agree with Hoseok. We need a gesture of transparency,” Namjoon agreed. “Let him believe he’s seeing the truth. Give him just enough.”

“If we don’t,” Jungkook added, “he’ll retreat again. And the damage could undo everything.”

Seokjin’s jaw tightened. “He needs one last push. He needs to believe this is his choice.”

“And he has to seal it himself,” Hoseok said. “The final knot. He must tie it.”

A beat of silence passed as the six considered their next move.

“Then we show him what he wants to see,” Seokjin said. “And we let him think it was always his to choose.”

They nodded in agreement. One last push. One final tilt of the scales.

***

That night, Seokjin returned to Taehyung’s room, quiet and hesitant.

“You scared me,” he said quietly, settling beside him.

“I didn’t mean to,” Taehyung replied, his voice softer than usual.

“I know. It’s just...” Seokjin hesitated. “Watching you fall like that, it reminded me of my brother. He—he used to throw himself into things when he was scared, too. Always trying to be stronger than he felt.”

Taehyung blinked. “Namjoon? You never talk about your family.”

“There’s not much to say,” Seokjin murmured, gaze distant. “Most of them are gone now. Politics and power—they take everything eventually. That’s why I stopped trying to chase after titles or favor. That’s why... I started caring about you instead.”

Taehyung’s breath caught, heart twisting with something too soft to name. “Why me?”

“Because you remind me of what I lost,” Seokjin said with a weak smile. “And because you still have a chance to choose who you want to be.”

A knock interrupted them. Hoseok’s voice floated through the door. “May I come in?”

Seokjin stood, smoothing his expression. “Of course.”

Hoseok entered with a light smile, his usual charm tempered by something more grounded. “Walk with us?” he asked Taehyung. “There’s something we’d like to share with you.”

Taehyung hesitated, then nodded.

They walked in the gardens, evening light casting long shadows. Flowers rustled in the breeze. It should have been peaceful.

“You’re still unsure of us,” Hoseok said gently. “I understand. But there’s only so long you can stand in the middle of a path before you’re forced to choose a direction.”

Taehyung glanced at him warily. “And if I choose wrong?”

“Then we’ll catch you,” Hoseok said, his voice steady. “We always will. We don’t want your allegiance, Taehyung. We want you safe. Protected. And for that, you need to trust someone.”

Taehyung swallowed. “You make it sound so simple.”

“It’s not,” Hoseok admitted. “But we’ve shown you our hands. Our flaws. Our fears. We’re not perfect—but we are here.”

Taehyung looked away, uncertain. The cool air stirred his hair, brushing it against his cheek like a whisper. Hoseok waited a moment, then leaned closer, his voice quiet and coaxing.

“You asked me once if I ever lied to you,” he said. “And I told you no. But that wasn’t quite true.”

Taehyung turned to him, startled.

“I’ve never lied to you directly,” Hoseok continued, “but I’ve guided you away from truths that would only hurt you. I’ve silenced those who tried to manipulate you for their own ends. I’ve protected you in ways you may never know. And I would do it all again.”

“Protected me?” Taehyung echoed, brow furrowing. “From what?”

Hoseok smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “From everyone who sees you as a pawn. And yes, even from some of us—when they forgot you were more than a symbol. I’ve done terrible things for your sake. And if that makes me a monster in your eyes, I’ll accept it. As long as it keeps you breathing.”

His words sank deep, curling around the thorns of Taehyung’s doubt. It was a confession and a warning both.

Taehyung opened his mouth to respond, but footsteps interrupted them. The others emerged—Jimin, Namjoon, Yoongi, Jungkook—waiting by the path, open and unguarded.

“We want to tell you the truth,” Namjoon said. “Or at least, as much of it as we can.”

They spoke then, of pasts twisted by war and secrets, of ambitions bent toward a single cause: him. They painted themselves not as masterminds, but as people who had chosen to follow him because they believed in him.

And Taehyung listened—quietly, uncertainly—but with his heart tilted toward them, pulled by the possibility that maybe, just maybe, they meant it. That he wasn’t being used, but chosen.

When the conversation ended, he didn’t walk away.

He stayed.

***

Later that night, long after the others had gone, Taehyung sat alone in his chamber, the candlelight flickering against the walls like restless thoughts. He’d left the windows open despite the chill—he needed air. But it did little to ease the tightness coiling inside his chest.

The truth. That was what they had offered him.

But what was truth? Their stories had blended so seamlessly with his own confusion that he could no longer tell where one ended and the other began. Had he ever truly had clarity? Or had he simply clung to the illusion of it?

A soft knock at the door broke through the silence.

“Come in,” he said hoarsely.

Seokjin stepped inside, his expression unreadable. He closed the door behind him but didn’t approach. He waited—an offer, not an imposition.

Taehyung didn’t speak right away. He didn’t even look up. He sat at the edge of the window bench, fingers curled loosely in his lap, knuckles pale from how long he’d been gripping the fabric of his robes.

“I don’t know what’s real anymore,” he whispered.

Seokjin didn’t move.

“I thought I could see through people. I thought if I watched long enough, listened carefully enough, I’d be able to tell who was lying.” Taehyung’s voice broke on the last word. “But I can’t. I can’t tell with any of you.”

There was a long pause. Then the soft shuffle of Seokjin’s steps.

“You’re not supposed to,” Seokjin said gently. “Not when you’ve been torn in so many directions that the ground itself doesn’t feel solid anymore.”

Taehyung finally looked up.

“I hate that I’m scared all the time,” he said. “That I don’t know who I am unless someone tells me.”

Seokjin’s gaze flickered with something dark—pity, perhaps, or guilt. Maybe neither.

Or maybe both.

He sat beside Taehyung without asking, their shoulders brushing.

“I could lie to you,” Seokjin said softly. “I could tell you that everything we’ve done was perfect. That none of us made mistakes. That you were never meant to be caught in the middle of it.”

Taehyung swallowed.

“But I won’t,” Seokjin continued. “Because I think... I think you deserve more than pretty words. You deserve someone who will stay, even if you scream. Even if you hate us.”

The silence that followed was fragile, almost sacred.

Taehyung’s breath shook as he turned toward him. “Why me? Why not just let me go?”

“Because you are the one thing we all agree on,” Seokjin said, voice low. “The one thing none of us could walk away from.”

That felt too big. Too heavy. Taehyung looked away, but Seokjin leaned in closer.

“You don’t have to believe everything we say,” Seokjin murmured, “but I need you to believe this: I would burn this entire kingdom to the ground before I let it swallow you.”

Taehyung’s heart lurched painfully at that. He felt the weight of those words settle deep inside, like a stone cast into water.

It was too much.

And yet not enough.

“I don’t want to be alone tonight,” Taehyung said, so quietly he could barely hear himself.

Seokjin didn’t answer with words. He simply shifted closer, drawing Taehyung into his arms with a gentleness that felt both protective and possessive. A prison made of silk and warmth.

Taehyung didn’t resist.

He let himself lean into it.

Because even if it was all a lie—

—it was the only lie that ever held him like this.

Hoseok stood in the corridor, half-shrouded in shadow.

He had not intended to linger. He rarely did. His presence was best felt, not seen—like breath on the back of a neck, like a voice in one’s mind they were certain was their own. But tonight, something had pulled him here. Call it curiosity. Call it caution.

He had seen Seokjin slip inside Taehyung’s chambers. Had felt, even from a distance, the tension thrum through the walls like a heartbeat.

He hadn’t planned to listen. And yet—

The door wasn’t quite shut. Not tightly enough.

He didn’t catch everything, but he heard enough. The tremor in Taehyung’s voice. The silence that followed. The soft, muffled words that could only be meant for someone who had finally broken.

“I don’t want to be alone tonight.”

Hoseok closed his eyes.

Something shifted in him. Not anger. Not quite.

He had expected Seokjin to win this particular battle. Seokjin always did, in the end—he had a talent for devastation wrapped in silk. But Hoseok hadn’t expected... this.

Not the vulnerability. Not the surrender.

Not the fact that it wasn’t manufactured.

He pushed off the wall, footsteps quiet as breath as he disappeared down the corridor, the hem of his robe whispering against the stone.

The others would want to know. Not the words—he wouldn’t repeat those. But the tone. The shift. The way Taehyung was beginning to tip, not from pressure, but from a need he could no longer ignore.

It was working. All of it.

And that should have pleased him.

But instead, Hoseok felt the stirrings of something cold. Something unpredictable.

Because for the first time since they had begun weaving this web, Taehyung wasn’t just accepting their control.

He was craving it.

And if he began to seek them out—not out of obligation, but out of longing—then Hoseok wondered, not for the first time, if they were still the ones pulling the strings.

Or if, perhaps, they had created something they could no longer contain.

***

They gathered in the room lit only by a single brazier. Shadows clung to the corners. The atmosphere was subdued, tense—not with conflict, but with anticipation.

Yoongi leaned against the wall, arms folded, gaze sharp. Jimin sat cross-legged, fingertips pressed together, unreadable as always. Namjoon stood near the fire, the light flickering across his thoughtful face. Jungkook lingered in the doorway, unusually quiet.

Then Hoseok entered.

He didn’t speak right away, just let his eyes settle on Seokjin as he too entered the room.

“You should be the one to say it,” Hoseok said quietly, a flick of his chin. “He didn’t fall for the rest of us. He fell for you.”

Seokjin exhaled slowly, then stepped forward, expression carefully composed. But the satisfaction couldn’t quite be hidden in his eyes. Nor could the shadow of something heavier.

“He let me stay,” he began. “He asked me to. Not out of duty. Not out of fear.”

He paused, gaze sweeping over the others. “He was unraveling. Doubt had rotted through everything he believed in, and still—he reached for me.”

Yoongi’s jaw tightened.

Jimin tilted his head, saying nothing.

Namjoon’s eyes narrowed, calculating.

Seokjin continued. “He said he doesn’t know what’s real anymore. That every time he tries to pull away, it feels like the ground vanishes beneath him. He’s lost, and instead of running, he looked to us for shelter.”

He swallowed. “He looked to me.”

The silence was thick with meaning. They had been working toward this—every gesture, every whisper, every dream and touch carefully placed.

“He said,” Seokjin added, voice lower now, “‘I can’t do this without you. I’m afraid… I’ll lose myself if I try.’”

A breath passed between them all.

And that was it.

The turning point.

Not a scream. Not a breakdown. But a soft, desperate surrender.

“He believes we’re the only ones who can keep him whole,” Seokjin finished. “That without us, he’ll fall apart.”

Hoseok looked away.

Yoongi said nothing.

Jimin closed his eyes.

And Namjoon nodded once, the barest movement. “Then the game is no longer about keeping him. It’s about making sure he never wants to leave.”

Chapter 5

[lingshanhermit]

Lingshan Hermit: Reflections on Zen and Esoteric Buddhism

In the monumental Zen anthology "The Five Lamps Meeting at the Source" (Wudeng Huiyuan), compiler Master Puji typically offers only brief introductions to the past Zen masters, often summarizing their lives in a single sentence. For example: "Qingliang Xiufu Zen Master, from Shengzhou Qingliang Temple, Master Xiufu Wukong, born to the Wang family of Beihai. He became a monk in his youth and took full precepts at nineteen." The compiler rarely mentions these masters' past experiences, causing many readers to overlook their previous lives—what kind of people they were, what they had experienced. Consequently, many mistakenly believe these masters did nothing significant until one day, they met an old Zen master, exchanged a few words, and suddenly became enlightened. This is certainly not the case. If you read carelessly, you might think their enlightenment came easily. Reading "The Five Lamps," you might believe these Zen masters were born only to accomplish this one thing—as if they never had childhoods, never experienced adolescence, never felt sadness or fear, never had parents or siblings, never faced setbacks or witnessed their country's fall. They appear as people without histories. The lack of description about their past deeds leads many to mistakenly view Zen as an easy path, believing they too can achieve enlightenment without effort, merely through a chance encounter with a Zen master who offers a few words of guidance.

When I was young, for a long time I thought people held this belief because they didn't read carefully enough. Later, as I met more people, I noticed that this misunderstanding wasn't always due to careless reading but was deeply connected to their cultural background—the same reason they were drawn to Zen in the first place, believing that "Zen requires no practice" and "everything is Zen." This aligns with their habitual self-deception and laziness. Although true Zen indeed involves "doing nothing," this "doing nothing" is completely different from what they imagine. But one shouldn't expect ordinary students to distinguish these nuances. They were born into a culture where people generally want everything without giving anything in return. They want to exert minimal effort for maximum results. Therefore, they seek shortcuts in everything they do. Behind this impatience lies the fundamental belief that "people only live once, so they should enjoy themselves." In daily life, they want gains without labor and permanent solutions; in spiritual practice, they desire the same.

So when they pursue spiritual practice, many choose Vajrayana Buddhism, not because they are suitable vessels for these teachings, but because Vajrayana provides countless excuses to maintain their ego. They can avoid abstaining from alcohol, giving up hamburgers, staying away from luxury cars and beautiful women, or becoming monks. Vajrayana teaches that desire is great bliss, so they can shamelessly indulge in their greed, anger, and ignorance, even proudly promoting these traits. When some of them discover Zen, they believe they've finally found what they wanted. Because Zen seems even more extreme than Vajrayana and harder to see through. They can do nothing, know nothing, practice nothing, and just say a few ambiguous words no one understands, pretending to be profound and mysterious. Most people cannot distinguish whether they are genuine or fake anyway. Such people always extract from Buddhism elements that nourish their "self," always picking out what their "self" desires most. Because they constantly seek methods to gain without effort, they can immediately smell a shortcut. They want to practice but without the hardships of practice; they want the freedom that comes after enlightenment but without the difficult cultivation beforehand; they want teachers but don't want to follow their teachers' instructions.

Zen becomes their dream spiritual path, a tool for self-deception. They can claim to practice without practicing anything, pretending it's the highest form of non-practice practice. They can fake enlightened detachment and claim their practice is everywhere: tea drinking is Zen, walking is Zen, even playing games and arranging furniture is Zen—Zen is present in walking, standing, sitting, and lying down. Zen even allows talking back to teachers under the pretext of "testing the teacher's wisdom," which would be unimaginable in a Vajrayana teacher-student relationship.

In the past, when I read "The Five Lamps Meeting at the Source," I saw between the lines the struggles of each accomplished Zen practitioner. What they probably saw was only quick success and the secret delight of appearing spiritual without doing anything. They don't see the hardships of Zen masters who climbed mountains and crossed rivers seeking the dharma; they don't see the calluses on their feet and the dust on their faces; they don't see their shoulders scarred and scabbed from carrying sutra cases; they don't see their disappointment and confusion after meeting many Zen masters and studying for years without results; they don't see them sleeping outdoors and enduring hunger; they don't see them being chased by tigers and wolves; they don't see them being ridiculed, ignored, and sabotaged; they certainly don't see their swollen faces when sick. They only see the glorious moment of enlightenment, leading them to mistakenly believe this is an easy path. This is truly a sad misunderstanding. But for them, this outcome is almost inevitable—their habit of wanting gains without effort only allows them to see what they truly desire.

Written by Lingshan Hermit on March 11, 2025, first published on March 12, 2025.

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灵山居士：禅密忧思录

在禅宗巨典《五灯会元》里，编纂者普济禅师对那些过往的禅宗大师的生平介绍通常都很简单，大多数时候都是一句话带过。譬如：“清凉休复禅师升州清凉院休复悟空禅师，北海王氏子。幼出家，十九纳戒。”《五灯会元》的编纂者很少提及这些大师们的过往，所以很多人会忽略他们的过往。忽略掉他们之前都做过什么，是什么样的人，经历过什么。所以很多人会误以为他们什么都没做，只是在某年某月某日，他走到那里，和一位老禅师说了两句话，然后，开悟就发生了。这当然不是事实。假如你不会读书，你大概会以为他们的开悟很容易。读五灯会元，你会觉得这些禅宗大师们很多人生下来就只做了这一件事，就仿佛他们没有过童年、没有过青春期、没有过悲伤和恐惧，没有父母姐弟、没有经历挫折和国破家亡。他们就像是个没有过往历史的人一样。因为经典里缺乏对他们过往事迹的描述，这让很多人误以为禅宗是轻松之道，误以为自己什么都不做只要机缘到了遇到某个禅师点拨几句就能开悟。

我年轻的时候，有很长一段时间都以为他们会这么想是因为他们读书不够仔细。后来接触的人多了，我注意到有些人之所以会这么想并不全是因为他们读书不仔细，他们会这么想和他们的文化背景有很大关系，就如同他们会选择禅宗那是因为他们认为“禅什么都不用做”、“一切皆是禅”，也是出于同样的文化原因一样。这符合他们一贯自欺偷懒的作风。虽然真正的禅确实是什么都不做，但这个“什么都不做”和他们以为的“什么都不做”完全不同。但是不要指望普通学人能区分这些。他们生在一种文化里，这种文化里的人普遍都是什么都不想付出，却想要得到一切。他们想要出最少的力却能得到最大的功果。所以他们干什么事都想要速成。而急于求成的背后则是基于“人只能活这一世所以要好好享受”的底层观念。在生活上他们想要不劳而获一劳永逸，在修行上他们同样会想要不劳而获一劳永逸。所以，当他们去修行，他们很多人会选择金刚乘作为修行法门，这不是因为他们是金刚乘的法器，而是因为金刚乘提供了无数可以被他们拿来维护自我的借口。他们可以不用戒酒、不用抛弃牛肉堡、不用避开香车美女、更加不用出家。金刚乘教导说贪欲即大乐，所以他们可以毫不掩饰自己的贪嗔痴，甚至可以到处宣传自己的贪嗔痴且以此为荣。而当他们中的一些人看到禅宗这样的法门时，他们觉得终于找到了自己想要的东西。因为禅宗比金刚乘还要极端，也更加不容易被识破。你可以什么都不做，什么都不会，什么修行也没有，只要说几句似是而非谁也不懂的话，就能装成很高深莫测的样子。反正大多数人根本无从分辨你是真是假。像这样的人他们总是能从佛教里截取那些能够营养“自我”的东西，总是能扒拉出那些“自我”最想要的东西。因为他们一直都在寻找各种不劳而获的方法，所以他们总是能在第一时间闻到捷径的味道。他们想要修行但却又不想要修行的苦，想要证悟后的自在洒脱却又不想要证悟前的苦修，想要有老师却又不想听老师的话。禅宗就成了他们的梦中的情宗，成为了他们自欺的利器。他们可以什么都不修却宣称自己在修，而且是最高级别的无修之修。可以假装证悟的洒脱和无所不在的修行，什么都是禅，喝茶是禅，走路是禅，连打游戏摆桌子也是禅，行走坐卧处处皆是禅。禅宗里面甚至还允许你和老师顶嘴，只要你打着机锋的名义，就可以名正言顺地和老师斗嘴。这在金刚乘的师徒之间是无法想象的。

过去我在看《五灯会元》的时候从字里行间里看到的是每个禅门成就者的不易，而他们在看五灯会元的时候看到的大概只有速成，还有就是什么都不用做却又能装得很有修行的窃喜。他们看不到那些爬山涉水去求法的禅师的辛苦，看不见他们脚上的茧子和满脸的尘土，看不见他们被法箧磨出血结痂的肩，看不见他们见了很多禅师参学了很久却一无所得的失望和迷惘，看不见他们风餐露宿忍饥挨饿，看不见他们被虎狼追逐，看不见他们被嘲讽被冷落被落井下石，更看不见他们生病时肿胀的脸，他们只看见了他们开悟那一瞬间的高光时刻。这让他们误以为这是一条易与之道。这实在是个可悲的误会。但是对他们而言，这几乎是必然的结果，他们身上那种想要不劳而获一劳永逸的习惯让他们只能看到这些，因为这些才是他们真正想要的。

灵山居士写于2025年3月11日，首发于2025年3月12日。

[askanaroace]

Nov Carnival of Aros: Aplatonic - Aplatonic Advice

So this month's Carnival is hosted by @exploringaspec on the topic of aplatonicism.

Now, I've written quite a bit about my aplatonicism and aplatonicism in general already (all of which AUREA is welcome to quote if anything is interesting enough).

Loneliness - I Don't Think I Experience It

Aplatonicism guitar playing metaphor

Afamilial Thoughts

How I Came to the Aplatonic Label

Platonic vs romantic love

Coping with loneliness

Dealing with guilt

So it was quite difficult for me to come up with something I wanted to talk about this month. Since I am an advice blog, I think I will go with some general advice to anybody aplatonic, aplatonic spectrum, or questioning.

-> Remember, aplatonic is just like any other label. It's a tool. It's not meant as a diagnosis. You don't need to meet some standard or pass some test to be valid. Is the term aplatonic useful to you in some way? Does it make you feel good/comfortable/seen to use the label? Does it help you connect with a community of people who have similar experiences to you? Do you want to ID as aplatonic? If you answered yes to any ONE of those, then try the label out! You make the label work for you. You don't work yourself to the label. Use it when, how, and if you feel like it. That includes not using or discarding the term if it doesn't work for you, even if you might technically fit into the definition.

-> There's no one way you have to feel. I mean this multiple ways. You're not somehow inherently "wrong" for not feeling A Way(TM) about the people in your life just because a lot of people may feel differently than you. There's not one way to be aplatonic, either. The term has multiple, wide definitions. It can refer to people who don't experience platonic crushes. It can refer to people who don't experience platonic love. It can refer to people who have difficulty, disinterest, and/or discomfort in making, managing, or maintaining platonic relationships. Again: do you connect to the term in some way? That's what matters. Language is a tool. That's it.

-> Foster whatever kinds of relationships you desire or that make you happy. Don't foster relationships you don't desire or that make you unhappy. You can be aplatonic and allosexual. You can be aplatonic and alloromantic. You can be aplatonic and experience alterous attraction. You can be aplatonic and want a committed partner of some kind. You can be aplatonic and polyamorous. You can be aplatonic and experience familial, aesthetic, sensual, etc. attraction. You can be aplatonic and want none of that. You can be aplatonic and be a hermit/recluse. You can be aplatonic and enjoy having acquaintances or other casual platonic relationships. Instead of getting hung up on the label, explore what makes you happy - and what doesn't. And it's okay if this changes over time (short- or long-term).

-> Relationships aren't the only thing in life. Feel free to focus on hobbies, art, sports, exercise, cooking, baking, fashion, work, volunteering, animals, education, meditation, spirituality. In fact, I would encourage everyone to not forgot those parts of life exist and to pursue other parts of yourself beyond your relationship to other people.

I hope there are some helpful words in here if you needed them.

Volunteering for the Carnival is deceptively easy, and we have an open spot for December and January. If there's a topic you want to engage the community in, please reach out. All you need is a topic idea and a place you can receive submissions at. If you don't even have a place to host - we'll help with that.

[hiswordsarekisses]

By AnnStewartPorter:

She had caught him abusing her son.

He went to jail. He got out of jail. He kidnapped his sons and they still haven’t found them. She despised him.

She had every right to hate.

Nobody would blame her. But….

It takes an immense amount of energy to hate. It’s more than exhausting to spend your day picking and choosing to hate. Oh you might trick yourself into thinking it’s important judgement, a righteous opinion, a well deserved justification or any

other self deceptive thing…when in truth, it’s just pampered hate.

One of the hiding places of hatred

is in grief. A wounding. A betrayal.

A pain too deep for words. A past, a trail of festering sores and sorrows.

It can be a perpetual process.

It can taste so bitter, we struggle

with it going down into the work

of the Holy Spirit.

Hatred can be intoxicating.

Most certainly, consuming.

Absolutely deceitful.

It’s life out of context.

Extract love and the energy will shift.

Even if the pain is still prevailing,

love will begin to heal you.

It may not mean you change your feelings about the situation.

God allows pain with a purpose.

Whether we understand it or not,

we are to trust Him with its process, its healing and its lesson.

Because it is such a deceptive tool for the Adversary to use, it’s so imperative we pray for discernment.

Surrendering your hatred doesn’t mean you tolerate the unthinkable.

And it may well be a long process of journey through hatred to love.

When pain overwhelms us, it’s easy to use hate to get through it.

But, it also slowly destroys us, roots

us in bitterness rather than love.

One of my favorite passages of Scriptures addresses this so eloquently that I couldn’t do justice

to this post, without it.

“For this reason I bow my knees

to the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ,from whom the whole family in heaven and earth is named, that He would grant you, according to the riches of His glory, to be strengthened with might through His Spirit in the inner man, that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith; that you, being rooted and grounded in love, may be able to comprehend with all the saints what is the width and length and depth and height to know the love of Christ which passes knowledge; that you may be filled with all the fullness of God. Now to Him who is able to do exceedingly abundantly above all that we ask or think, according to the power that works in us, to Him be glory in the church by Christ Jesus to all generations,

forever and ever. Amen.”

{Ephesians 3: 14-21}

Everytime I read it, I realize how pathetic I love. I am not as rooted

and grounded in love as Christ

desires me to be.

If we are ever going to have any true connection with overcoming the hatred in our exhausted groaning whimpering world, we must demand ourselves to be rooted and grounded in love…

Not in our opinions…

Not in our pain…

Not in our perspective …

Not in our desires ….

Not in our reality…

But in love. Divine love.

Not the cute frilly valentine card love,

the deep rooted, pulling out the strongholds, jerking out the bitterness, sacrificial, dying to self, total surrender…love.

Yeah, I know. I hear your sigh.

And yes, only through faith in Christ.

But oh how I want to love like Jesus loves me. I know you do too.”

~AnnStewartPorter

[gimmie-a-sammich]

Absolution | Chapter 3 | A Necessary Escape

Pairings: Resistance!Ateez x Fem!Original Character, Resistance!??? x Fem!Original Character, feat other idols

Genre: (18+ Minors DNI) Dystopian au, smut, angst, fluff

Summary: Absolution: act of absolving; a freeing from blame or guilt; release from consequences, obligations, or penalties. Haunted by the guilt of her choices, Serafina desperately searches for a way to atone for her sins. In a world ruled by power and corruption, will she find the forgiveness she seeks? Is she worthy of absolution? Maybe stumbling upon the resistance is the answer she's been looking for.

Chapter Warnings: deception, manipulation, mentions of past trauma, mentions of past deaths, escape, fist fights (but Sera is still a badass)

Word Count: 14.4k

read here on AO3

Absolution Masterlist

previous chapter | next chapter

**

Sera stumbled back up to her room, clutching her knotted stomach. Her father’s plans made her nauseous, the metallic taste of bile brewing beneath her tongue. The small-scale brainwashing and manipulation had already taken a significant toll on her, contributing to her feelings of self-loathing just as much as her kill count. Mentally she couldn’t handle influencing the masses to bend to her father. As long as she was within her father’s grasp the people of Meridian would never be safe, not with this nefarious plot. Not with her father in power.

She needed to get out, and get out now. 

In a rush, she locked the door behind her, no longer caring about her mother’s warning for staying in her room. There were no tears left in her body to cry. Now she felt numb, desperately trying to form a coherent thought. 

Escape was necessary. But how? 

What would happen to Ryland if she left? 

For the time being, she pushed her brother out of her mind, focusing instead on how she was going to get out of the compound unseen. She had to leave. The best time would be early in the morning. She knew the guard schedule by heart and her favorite set at the main gates went on rotation at 3am. They would be easy to manipulate, but she would need to do it right at the beginning of their shift before more people started coming in and out. It would be much easier to slide out then, and she would be able to put some distance between herself and the compound before her absence was noticed. Sera hated that she needed to use her powers, but in this case it was a necessary evil. 

In a rush she searched her closet for one of the large military backpacks. She needed to travel light, but would need some clothes and other necessities to survive on the run. She grabbed a few pairs of practical pants, long sleeve shirts, tank tops, hoodies, a rain jacket, thick socks, and underwear. At this point she was a professional at packing, folding everything tightly and neatly to leave enough room for an extra pair of shoes. The sleeping bag would be tightly rolled along the top, rations and other survival tools kept within the many pockets. Of course she would need some toiletries, not wanting to live like a complete heathen while on the road. If she played her cards right she would be able to sleep at inns and hotels along the way, not always on the roadside. With that thought in mind, she found the box she’d also hidden in her closet, stuffed to the brim with money. She had been saving it for as long as she could remember, never knowing why, but increasingly thankful she’d been tucking it away. 

Oddly enough, she felt a twisted sense of gratefulness towards her parents. Escape would be much easier since no one outside the inner circle or the compound knew what she looked like. Even her name had been kept a secret. Her face would not be plastered across Meridian like some wanted criminal. Honestly, her escape would more than likely be kept quiet. No one would know the Crown was missing its most prized possession. 

Now she needed to get to the training building since it housed most of the other supplies she needed, including the ration packs. Getting in wouldn’t be a problem, it would be getting out unnoticed with handfuls of packs. Easily, she came up with a solution, silently muttering to herself for not thinking of the obvious answer immediately. It was not uncommon for her to go into the training room with a duffle bag. She would do a quick workout, hopefully avoiding people while she went. Afterwards she would sneak into the supply room, grab what she needed, and stuff it into the bag. 

Truthfully, she knew it would be good for her to do some sort of physical activity, even if there wasn’t an ounce of desire to do so. While sparring was totally off the table, a few miles on the treadmill could do wonders for her head. Running had a way of clearing her thoughts, the only focus being the pounding of her feet. She preferred to run outdoors, but her current situation called for the gym. 

Sera quickly changed into workout attire, throwing her hair up in a messy bun. Her hair tangled around the damn ring, but she knew better than to take it off just yet. Wearing it wouldn’t draw the same unwanted attention as not having it on her hand. She would pretend to be happy about the engagement if she did happen to run into anyone. Faking it would be difficult, but nothing she hadn’t done a million times over. 

The walk to the training building was a quiet one. Sera felt very self conscious of the empty duffle bag hitting her side with each step. Those she did pass didn’t say anything to her other than the obligatory ‘princess’ with a shallow nod. In times like these she also felt a shred of gratitude towards her extensive military training. Even though her mind was racing, her body remained calm. She handled this type of pressure and the pressure of missions extremely well, carrying herself in the same way she always did. Only afterwards did her walls crumble.

Although she expected the room to be empty, finding Jay leisurely jogging on one of the treadmills didn’t surprise Sera. Did he know about the announcement?. 

Jay stopped the treadmill the moment he saw Sera walking through the archway, sprinting at her in full force. He nearly knocked her over, wrapping her up in a sweaty hug, but Sera didn’t mind. 

“Hey, Sera,” he said, not relinquishing his hold around her shoulders.

“Hey, Jay.” Sera’s arms wrapped around him just as tightly. 

He dipped his head slightly to rest his cheek atop her head. “Are you okay? We heard about your, uh, your engagement.” 

With a massive sigh Sera squeezed him tighter. She never had to pretend with Jay, but she couldn’t tell him how she felt in this case. She couldn’t risk putting Jay in a compromised position, especially with her leaving. Jay’s loyalty towards Changkyun couldn’t be questioned.

“I’m okay, Jay. I promise. It was a surprise to say the least, but it could be worse. Much worse.” 

Finally Jay released Sera from the hug, but moved his hands to clasp Sera’s shoulders. Their eyes met, Jay obviously searching for her real feelings. “Let me say this… if you’re happy, I’m happy. Whatever you’re feeling I’ll get behind, good or bad. It’s going to be weird for all of us now. I can’t imagine not having you on this team. But, you will always have Jiwoo and me in your corner. You can always count on us, no matter what. Okay?”

Sera had long since gotten over Jay’s instances of maturity. Jay was definitely the moodmaker of their little team, but always knew the moments to put that aside. Emotionally smarter than he would ever let on, Jay often understood everyone’s moods and underlying feelings, even if they weren’t always expressed. He knew better than to pry for more, but made sure that Sera knew where he stood without outright saying it. Sera gave him a genuine smile despite the all too familiar pang in her chest. How she would miss him and Jiwoo.

“I know, Jay, and I appreciate it. But, how did you already know that I was off the team? That wasn’t part of the announcement.” 

Jay’s hands dropped, one running through his sweat slicked hair. His eyes fell to the floor while he gnawed on his lower lip. Sera could see the internal debate going through his head on what he should say. “We, uh, had a briefing early this morning. Changkyun, Ender, Ji, and I. He told us… and then he said we would be meeting a few potentials for your replacement tomorrow at the base.” Sadness lingered on his face. “I’m sorry, Sera. I really am.” 

Sera felt tears forming. Not for being off the team. But for Jay’s guilt about the situation. None of this was his fault, yet here he apologized for the team’s behalf. “Jay, it’s fine. You don’t need to be sorry. You and Ji… well I hope that even though I’m off the team we will stay friends. Right?” She felt compelled to ask, even though no friendship could continue in her absence. But she needed the peace of mind in knowing.

Jay laughed at her question, pulling in Sera for another hug. “You aren’t getting rid of either of us.” She relaxed. The assurance placated her brain. “I’ll let you run in peace, okay?” 

“Thanks, Jay. You’re pretty spectacular, you know that?” 

He shot her a dazzling smile as he went to the cubby containing his things. “Of course I know, Sera.” 

With a final wink, he was out the door, leaving Sera alone. She placed her bag in one of the cubbies before making her way to the treadmill. Jay had forgotten to clear it, letting Sera see just how long he had been going. The crazy guy had been running for over an hour before Sera interrupted him.

Clearing the screen, Sera set her pace to a brisk walk to warm her legs up. The interaction with Jay made her forgo stretching and she didn’t want to strain her body by starting too fast. Soon, she settled into a decent pace, not a full out sprint but more than a slow jog. Her mind went blank, just as she had hoped. Everything faded out besides the sound of her feet. 

After about 30 minutes, Sera decided she had enough. The intention wasn’t to push herself today, only to work up enough of a sweat that she wouldn’t look too conspicuous. Clearing the screen and wiping down the treadmill, she grabbed one of the yoga mats. A few more moments in the training room wouldn’t jeopardize her plan. If anything, the more time she spent here, the better. Hopefully it would make the day go by faster.

For a moment Sera laid back on the mat, hands covering her face. Thankfully her brain was too tired from her run to let her thoughts go wild. She focused only on her plan. On her escape. She lost herself so deeply iin her plan development that she didn’t hear the faint footsteps steadily growing louder.

“Oh… Sera.” 

Changkyun. Of course it would be Changkyun. Sera sighed, raising her back from the mat. Avoiding him was no longer an option.

She turned to face him, forcing a small smile. “Hey, Changkyun.”

He paused in the entryway, unsure of his next move since Sera had made it clear that she wanted space from him. His hands immediately went into the pockets of his joggers. “I can go.”

With a sigh, Sera shook her head. “I was done here anyway,” she stood, grabbing the mat and rolling it up. 

Changkyun entered the room, dropping his belongings to the floor, eyes never leaving Sera. A faint smirk flickered through his face when he saw the ring on her hand. Slowly, he made his way over to her once she returned the mat to its proper spot. 

“Sera… will you please forgive me?” His voice was so low, so soft. 

She fought the urge to flinch when his hand touched the small of her back. She had to play into his desires, as much as she didn’t want to. Instead of shying away, she turned to face him. It took everything she had to meet his eyes. Per usual with her, they were warm and soft. It was hard to believe that he could be so possessive, yet the overheard conversation and his demeanor in the greenhouse said otherwise. Sera questioned how long those feelings had been forming and when he fell in love with her. 

“What happened to you giving me time, Chankgyun?” she sighed. 

“I can’t help that I ran into you. It’s not like I sought you out.” Still, he kept his hand firm on her back. She could feel his fingers twitching along her skin, longing to move. “I’m happy to see you, and even happier to see you’re wearing the ring.”

Sera allowed him to grab her hand, letting him run his thumb along the diamond. This was easier than causing a fight with him. Any sort of disturbance would only draw more attention to her. Attention she did not want. 

“Well… we are engaged. It only makes sense.” She kept her voice calm and quiet, almost breathless. 

Changkyun exhaled, tension leaving his shoulders. A small grin bloomed on his face and he pulled Sera closer to him. “Are you… are you more okay with everything?” 

She had to tell him what he wanted to hear, especially with how expectantly he looked at her. Feigning a smile, she snaked her arms around his waist, making Changkyun’s smile widen. “It’s easier to accept now that I’ve slept on it. Of course I was surprised by the announcement. How couldn’t I be? But you’re right. Things could be much worse, and honestly I’m thankful that it's you.” 

Following her words Changkyun pulled her into his chest, completely ignoring her sweat ridden body. Lips pressed against Sera’s temple. “You don’t know how much hearing you say that means to me, Sera.” When Changkyun drew back, a hand migrated to her face. The way he looked at her made Sera’s breath hitch. Not in a good way, but Changkyun was too blind to tell the difference. Love and sincerity filled his eyes. “If you feel up to it, I’d like… well I’d like to… god why is it so hard to ask you on a date?” Immediately he blushed, followed by a nervous and embarrassed laugh.

If Sera hadn’t been so upset with this engagement and the plans to exploit her mind control, she might have found him struggling to ask her on a date cute. Unfortunately for him, that was not the case. However, she continued to smile at him despite wanting to run away from him as fast as she could. That time would come.

“Tomorrow night?” 

“Tomorrow night then,” Changkyun agreed. Keeping a soft hold on her face, he leaned in, kissing Sera’s cheek but dangerously close to her lips. It took Sera by surprise, but she handled it remarkably well, taking it without so much as a twitch. Her eyes fluttered shut as she squeezed his waist. “Let’s say… seven? I’ll get you from your room.”

Changkyun made no effort in hiding his excitement, grinning ear to ear. Little did he know that Sera would be nowhere near the compound by that time. 

“It’s a date,” Sera said warmly, knowing her face and voice weren’t giving away how she truly felt. 

Changkyun dropped his hands, but not before laying another chaste kiss atop her head. He walked away from her slowly, grinning like a schoolboy in love. Sera grabbed her bag without looking back at him, cautiously making her way through the building to the supply room. Once again she was left relatively alone, only passing two or three people on her way.

She didn’t ponder long, hurrying once she got to the supply room. Time was of the essence, and while it wouldn’t be out of the ordinary if someone saw her, it would definitely raise questions. Sera could easily make them forget she saw her, but she wanted to avoid that as much as she could.

After grabbing her favorite rations, a fire starter, sleeping bag set, and a water purifier she went on her way. The bag was stuffed, but any passerby wouldn’t think twice about it being at her side. Much like the way to the training building, she hardly saw a soul, or at least nobody who would stop her. 

In her room, she quickly switched the supplies over from the duffle bag into the backpack. After hiding it behind her many gowns in the furthest corner of her closet, she switched gears in her head. The plan was set. Now she had to think about Ryland. 

A large part of her wanted nothing more than to bring Ryland along. But would that be the safest place for him? Her father had given his word that no harm would come to him despite her mother’s threats. A life on the run wasn’t one she wanted for her brother. One child of the Crown missing was going to raise a number of alarms internally. But two? She couldn’t risk it. The last thing Sera wanted was for Ryland to constantly be looking over his shoulder. It was a selfish thought to take him along in the first place.

But, despite her head telling her she should leave without seeing him, her heart needed the closure a goodbye would offer. Now the debate on when it would be best to see him. Mentally, Sera didn’t think she could handle seeing him too early, especially knowing what she would have to do following the conversation. She quickly determined that she would need to say her goodbyes right before she left, even if it was going to be in the early morning. 

All that Sera needed to do was bide her time before her big move. 

**

Unable to sleep, Sera took to pacing and repacking to pass most of her time. After the twelfth go through of her belongings and supplies she finally set the bag aside and took to watching the clock slowly tick, continuously running through her escape plan. 12:45. 1:52. 2:17. She had gone through every potential outcome in her head a thousand times over. Not a single aspect was left unthought of. With this she felt confident. Confident in the plan. Confident in her choice to leave. But with her upcoming conversation with Ryland she lacked all confidence.  

It was imperative that she be calm with him. She wouldn’t allow her little brother to see her upset, even if he wouldn’t remember speaking to her. With a final glance at the clock, she stopped her ceaseless pacing. Suddenly, she remembered the ring encircling her finger. How could she have forgotten that monstrosity? Pulling it off her finger, she threw it back in the drawer of her bedside table, praying she would never have to feel the weight of it on her hand again.

Grabbing the backpack, Sera turned back to look around her room once she reached the door, determining that she wouldn’t miss anything about it. She closed it behind her quietly, hoping that this would close a chapter of her life she would never revisit.

The hallways were barren due to the early hour. Sera knew all the blind spots for the surveillance cameras within them, taking extra care to stay in those shadowy corners. She assumed the guards weren’t too vigilant in watching the screens this early, especially with knowing who worked in the surveillance room at this time. 

Soon, she found herself standing in front of Ryland’s room. Her heart raced in her chest, dread slowly filling her body. She inhaled deeply through her nose, shoulders lifting with her chest to fill it with much needed air. Not wanting to run the risk of someone hearing her knock, Sera opened the door slowly. 

Ryland looked so peaceful, deep asleep with his hair a fluffy mess, blankets half covering his body. He was always a fitful sleeper, constantly turning in bed to end up in the most uncomfortable looking positions. She moved towards the bed as quietly as she could, dropping her bag along the way.

The bed gave slightly when Sera sat down, but Ryland didn’t so much as budge an inch. She softly brushed some of the stray hairs away, smiling down at the one person who meant the entire world to her. 

“Ryland,” she whispered, gently nudging him. “Hey, wake up.” He stirred slightly, moreso following Sera’s repeated whispers of his name. 

“Sera?” he asked groggily, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He squinted at her, trying to determine if he was awake or still in a dream, confusion evident in his scowl. “What are you doing here? Is everything okay?” 

“I’m leaving, Ry.” The words slipped out of her, not able to think of a way to ease him into it. 

Ryland scrambled upwards, the shock of what Sera said jolting him awake. “What, Sera… what? What do you mean?”

She pulled Ryland into her chest, squeezing him so intensely his breathing hitched. “I have to leave… Dad… I can’t brainwash people anymore, Ryland. I can’t do it.”

Her little brother clutched onto her just as tightly. “Where are you going to go, Sera? You can’t… you can’t leave me here without you.” 

Tears welled up in Sera’s eyes. Drawing back, she held her brother’s face in her hands. A few tears snuck down his cheeks with her admission. She carefully rubbed them away, shaking her head. “Away. Far, far away. I want to bring you with me, but I can’t Ry. A life on the run is not one I want for you. There’s safety for you here… something I can’t promise out there.” 

“But what about your safety? Dad will do anything he can to find you.”

His comment reminded Sera that Ryland was much wiser and much more in tune to the reality of their family then he let on. And that crushed her. 

“I’ll be fine. We both know I can handle myself.” A forced laugh left her chest, more of a huff of air than anything. 

Ryland took his sister’s hands into his, pulling them off. “You’re not going to let me remember talking to you, are you?”

Sera’s face fell at the fact he knew it was coming. 

“It’s better for you that way. Do you want them questioning you? If you don’t remember, you can’t lie.” 

“So you’d rather me be upset at you?” His eyes had turned slightly cold towards her before he squeezed them closed. When he reopened them, though, they were full of understanding. “Sorry. I don’t mean that. I get it Sera. I do.” This time it was Ryland who pulled Sera into an embrace. 

“I’m so sorry, Ryland,” Sera whispered. “I love you, more than anyone on this continent. More than anything in this world.” 

“I love you, too. Will you make me a promise?” 

Taken aback,  Sera stared at her brother. “Yeah?” 

Ryland sniffled, struggling to keep his tears at bay. “Will you promise to come back for me? And when you do… let me remember this. Please.” 

Tears fell freely down Sera’s face. The composure and tough exterior she tried so hard to keep fell in an instant. “I promise, Ryland.”

A deep sigh left Sera, rattling her chest in conjunction with the sobs she struggled to contain. Ryland nodded at her, silently giving her permission to move forward. Sera’s eyes closed, and when they opened Ryland found himself staring into pools of gold.

“You never saw me. I never told you my plan. When you hear of my absence you will react how everyone expects you to. Now, you will go back to sleep. A dreamless, restful sleep.” 

At her words, Ryland went limp, slumping into Sera. She settled him back into the mattress, tucking him back into the blankets. Leaning down, she kissed his forehead and made sure there were no remnants of tears on his face. He was back to looking peaceful, already deep in the sleep Sera induced. Having to manipulate her brother in this way made her feel horrible, but the alternative would be much worse. It was safer for Ryland to forget, even if it ate at her. 

Wiping away her own tears, Sera made for her pack in the center of Ryland’s room, grabbing it quickly. After she slung it onto her back she allowed herself one more look at her brother, casting a solemn smile he would never see. 

“I love you, Ryland Banks,” she whispered a final time, “to the tallest mountain and the deepest sea.” 

Shutting the door, she crept through the hallways, her steps overly cautious, but she felt an odd sense of calm. Like the rest of the house, the kitchen was completely empty of the typical staff. Only used by staff members, the back entrance through the kitchen had a direct, yet less traveled route to the main gate. Their shifts wouldn’t begin in the main house for another 2 hours, meaning the path would be clear. 

The clear night sky gave Sera a perfect view of the stars above her. On any other night, she would take the time to admire them, loving to pick out the constellations and lose herself in a daydream staring at them. She did not have the luxury of time this evening and she kept a steady pace along the cement path. The cold air around her made her thankful for the extra blanket and thick sweater she threw in her bag last minute. 

Pulling the coat around her, she continued on, checking the time on her watch. Truly having thought of everything, Sera made sure to grab an obsolete model of watch. It still had access to necessary GPS and maps, but not the capability to be tracked. The Crown wouldn’t even notice  it missing. 

3:12am. Sera’s timing was perfect as she rounded the final corner, the gate now completely in her sight. Few cars were lined up to leave, no doubt on their way to the military base. Just to be safe, Sera pulled up her hood, tucking her brain along her back. With all the confidence in the world she strode up to the booth, grinning ear to ear when she saw Malachi sitting on the chair.

“Well good morning, Sera!” he said animatedly, leaning out the window to address her. “Awfully early out here for you, isn’t it?” 

“No rest for the wicked, you of all people should know that Malachi,” she teased. She kept her hands snug in her pockets, not wanting him to see the absence of her ring. 

His laughter was deep and booming, as always. “You know I would never think of you as wicked. Off to the base?” Sera nodded in response. Malachi began typing away on his keyboard, brows furrowed as he looked at the clearance list for the day. Sera kept her eyes neutral, a smile still plastered on her face. She knew she wouldn’t be on it, not that it mattered either way. “You’re not on my list, m’lady…”

Sera shot him a dazzling smile, eyes transitioning to gold in an instant. “You’re going to let me through the gates Malachi. You’re going to forget you saw me. If anyone asks about this moment you are going to have no recollection of it.” 

Malachi’s eyes glazed over for a moment. He typed in the access code for the door, allowing it to open with a low buzz. Sera adjusted her backpack and hood once more before strolling through the gate without a second thought. 

She was out. She was free. Free of her family. Free of Changkyun. 

But not free of her guilt.

**

The compound was silent in the morning, nothing out of the ordinary, nothing out of place. Nikolai didn’t immediately know something was off. It was typical for Serafina to be absent from mealtimes, especially recently. Delphine was much more concerned about their daughter’s absence, but he quickly quashed his wife’s plan to storm into Serafina’s room and drag her out again. The King simply stated that their daughter needed space, a minor convenience they could grant her. He hadn’t forgotten the conversation he had with Serafina, and he was hopeful that some space from Delphine would earn him some grace with his daughter.

It wasn’t until the following day that Nikolai became concerned. Normally he would have at least seen Sera within the compound’s gardens or about with Ryland, but not even he had seen his sister. It was only after speaking with his youngest child that he went to check on his daughter.

“Serafina,” he said sternly, knocking on the door with three crisp raps. When there was no answer, he opened the door, immediately engulfed by fury at the made, empty bed.

He basically sprinted to the surveillance room, shoving aside the two seated guards to stand in front of the monitors.

“Where. Is. My. Daughter,” he seethed. His hands gripped the control panel tightly, eyes as dark as his soul. Black goo seeped out of his fingertips in his anger. “FIND HER.” 

The two guards got to work quickly, fear evident in their eyes. They rewound the tapes, looking for any sign of the princess. Nikolai’s eyes fixed on the screen, searching for any sign of his precious jewel.

“Your Highness, the last clear image of her was two days ago. It appears she went into the training building, then back to her room. We will look more in depth now tha-”

The man was silenced by Nikolai lifting him by his throat. His face turned blue with the lack of air, futilely struggling within the King’s grasp. “Find my fucking daughter before I kill you both.” 

Nikolai dropped him just as suddenly, leaving the man clutching his neck and gasping for air. He didn’t stall long, returning to scour the footage for the princess and determine her location. The king left in just as much of a rush, quickly calling for Changkyun and Ender, commanding them to meet him in his study immediately. 

Changkyun entered first, looking confused and watching Nikolai pace in front of his desk, fists and jaw clenched. 

“What happened?” Changkyun asked quietly, crossing his arms just as Ender entered the study. 

“Serafina seems to be missing,” Nikolai said through gritted teeth. Stopping his pacing, he turned to look at Changkyun and Ender. Changkyun blinked in surprise, visibly concerned. Ender remained stone faced, only the faint outline of a smirk turning at the corner of his mouth.

“What do you mean, she’s missing? I saw her just the other day. She wouldn’t… she wouldn’t do that. Sera wouldn’t just leave,” Changkyun muttered, running a hand through his hair. 

Ender barked a laugh at his friend and captain. “You’re a lovesick fool if you think she wouldn’t run off.” He shot a glare at his father. “I don’t know why you’re surprised by this. She’s always been a loose fucking cannon.”

Sharp black spikes stopped inches from Ender’s face. He didn’t so much as flinch when they came barreling towards him, instead the smirk on his face only grew wider. 

“Don’t speak of your sister that way,” Nikolai spat, letting the spikes dissipate as quickly as they had formed. “Search the compound. Tell no one. Report back to me in 20 minutes.” 

The two men exited the study. Together they developed a plan to search the grounds, even though deep down both knew Sera would not be found anywhere within the compound. Changkyun went to the training building, gardens, and greenhouse, knowing that IF she was still in the compound those would be the most likely places. Ender searched the remaining buildings littered around the grounds and the main house. 

While they conducted their search, Nikolai returned to the surveillance room to continue reviewing footage. For how little he had been gone, the two guards had already gathered up all the evidence they could find of the princess. What they found reignited his fury.

The largest screen showed Sera walking out the front gates without so much of a struggle, her golden eyes glinting knowingly at the camera, a sly smirk on her face.

Nikolai’s screams of fury echoed through the halls, heard even outside within the grounds. His Jewel was gone.

And Nikolai would do anything to get her back.

**

Being on the run was more or less what Sera expected. She barely slept the first week with how constantly she looked over her shoulder, just waiting to be found by someone from the Crown. Most nights since then she thankfully found herself in some form of sleazy inn, but she didn’t risk that until she placed a good amount of distance between herself and the Capital.

The three weeks steadily took a toll on her. Her rations ran dangerously low, her clothes absolutely disgusting, and her money dwindled. She was exhausted, and that was showing on every inch of her body. She had lost weight from saving her food as much as she could, not wanting to spend all of her money nor dip into too much of her rations. 

The rain did nothing to lift her spirits. Normally Sera loved the rain. However, she did not love being caught in a torrential downpour while trying to find a place to sleep. The unfriendly town she found herself in had no vacancies in any of the inns or hotels, even the most rundown ones. 

Taking a moment to regroup, she took to huddling underneath an awning covering a dimly lit alleyway. It might not have been the safest option, but Sera was perfectly capable of handling anything that would come her way, even if she didn’t look it. 

Sera leaned against the brick building, basking in the reprieve from the rain and setting her bag on the dirty cobblestoned ground beside her. She felt disgusting covered in mud, hair matted and sticking to her despite her best attempt at keeping it within a braid. The sopping wet clothes had her freezing and even more desperate for a place to stay. The last three days on the road had been especially unkind to her, offering no breaks from the elements. 

The pounding of rain and thunder drowned out the sound of the side door flinging open. Sera didn’t immediately notice the four men stumbling outside, some still clutching bottles of beer in their hands. It wasn’t until one of the bottles shattered against the building that Sera looked in their direction. Obviously drunk, but once they caught a glimpse of Sera they stared at her hungrily. 

“Well, look at this pretty thing,” one sneered, fumbling in his steps towards Sera. 

Sera stayed still on the wall, choosing to ignore the advance. Her muscles tensed nonetheless, preparing for the worst. 

“It’s been awhile since I’ve seen one as… delicious as this,” another slurred, taking a generous swig of his beer and tossing the bottle to the ground.

Murmurs of agreement came from the other men. With a sigh, Sera pulled herself off the wall, turning to face the four men teetering towards her on uneasy feet. 

“How about you leave my ‘delicious’ self alone.”

Before she could say anything further, one of the men lunged at her. She dodged it easily, but her movement turned her straight into the arms of one of the sleazeballs, the same one that called her delicious. 

He wrapped one arm around her chest, the other gripped her chin tightly. “The things I’ll do to you…” he muttered, licking Sera’s cheek. The smell of whiskey and smoke radiated off of him.

Sera laughed through her disgusted grimace. These men really thought they had the upper hand on her. How adorable. The other three clambered around her, looking at Sera like their next meal. 

“At least buy me dinner first,” Sera huffed, slamming her head back against the man holding her. She heard a loud crunch and felt something thick drip onto her hair just as the man let her go.

“You fucking bitch,” the man yelled, clutching his nose, blood dripping through his hands. “Fucking get her.”

Once free, Sera kicked the man squarely in the chest, causing him to double over onto the ground. Spinning around to face the other three men, she quickly threw an arm up to block a weak punch. A small giggle escaped Sera as she thrust her fist into her attacker’s temple, knocking him out cleanly. It was too easy, their unsteady movements only playing further into her favor.

The final two men came at her together, assuming a united attack would catch Sera off guard. She made quick work of both with a well aimed kick to the knees of one and a swift left-handed uppercut to the jaw of the other. All four crumpled in a heap around her, struggling to stand up, the one still out cold. Sera didn’t even break a sweat. 

“Hey! Are you-” Sera spun on her heel towards the voice behind her, golden matter forming around her hands with a shift of her eyes. The voice had taken her completely by surprise. The man behind her raised his hands immediately, a gesture of surrender, while he took a step backwards. “Woah woah woah woah.” He leaned around her, investigating the men on the ground and the matter floating around her. His gaze hardened when he landed on one in particular. “Keith, take your friends inside. Leave the girl alone before worse happens to you.”

The man whose nose she broke, who Sera now assumed to be Keith, stood up even more wobbly than before. He gruffly ordered the other two to hoist up the still knocked out man, shuffling behind them like a dog with his tail between his legs through the side door. Before he disappeared he threw a few more profanities at Sera and the unknown man. 

Turning back to face this new man, she let her matter dissolve, eyes transitioning back to their stormy blue. Now wasn’t the time to fling anything at this new stranger, especially since he didn’t appear to pose a threat. At least not yet. 

“Are you okay? I heard the scuffle…” he said calmly, hands still raised. A smile quickly passed over his face. “I came to help, but it seems you handled yourself just fine.” 

Sera looked him up and down. He was tall, probably as tall as Ender, but much leaner. Blonde hair stuck to his face from the pounding rain. He seemed well put together despite the storm, with clean clothes and pants tucked neatly into his boots. Not a hint of alcohol wafted off him, much different than the men she just fought. His eyes were warm and friendly, crinkling slightly at the edges while he continued smiling. Her gaze lingered on the pistols strapped to his sides, before sliding it back to his long fingers, waiting for them to make the slightest motion towards the guns.

“The name’s Yunho, by the way,” he added. Yunho took a cautious step towards her. “I haven’t seen you around here before… and standing alone outside the bar late at night is no place for a girl. A girl whose name is…?” 

“Sera.”

“Just Sera?” His eyes glimmered in the lamplight as he took another step towards her, slowly dropping his hands down to his side. 

“Just Sera,” she echoed, watching his hands intently.

Yunho chuckled, shaking his head slightly. “Well okay, Just Sera, you’re not going to find any sort of safe area around this part of town, especially not at this hour. Do you have somewhere to go?”

“Like you said, I can handle myself just fine,” Sera retorted quickly, picking up her backpack. “I just needed to get out of the rain for a minute.” She adjusted the straps of her pack, staring fiercely back at Yunho. 

“You haven’t answered me.” 

“Why should I tell a man who I don’t know, who just warned me of not finding safety out here, where I’m planning on going?”

“Hey now, are you taking me for one of those drunken sleazeballs? I consider myself a gentleman.” Yunho waved his hands in front of him, looking offended that she would even consider that of him. “For the record, I’m almost positive you would have a semi-decent chance at kicking my ass, but it would be a much more even fight… if I went easy on you.”

Sera crossed her arms, slightly insulted. “Only a semi-decent chance? I think you’re deliberately underestimating me.” 

“You took out four very inebriated men, sorry I’m not too impressed. Don’t look at me like that, just stating the obvious here,” he added due to Sera’s glare, his smile transitioning to a smirk. “Here’s what I know about you so far. One, you’re completely unarmed. Two, you must have a pretty gnarly ability to be walking around alone and without a gun… did you think I missed those shimmering gold blobs of whoknowswhat floating around you, or the fact your eyes changed color? Three, you have some form of formal combat training. Your clothes and the way you handled that albeit easy fight all point in that direction. Plus, you’ve been passively watching my hands, like you’re waiting for me to make a move towards one of my firearms. You’re just as observant as I am. Have I missed anything so far?” 

“You think you’ve figured me out in what… less than five minutes? How cute.” Sera found it quite easy to banter with him, but refused to let her guard down.

“Not at all. Just what I’ve observed during our lovely little meetcute,” Yunho said sweetly, sticking his hands into his pocket. “Here’s the deal, you have nowhere to go. You and I both know it. If I wanted to take advantage of you in some way, I would have done it by now. That’s not my intention in the slightest.” 

“Then what is your intention?” Sera asked flatly. 

“I live about 25 miles from here with some friends of mine. It’s a big house. There’s plenty of room, and I know for a fact you’re not going to find anything in this town. Not now at least. Come back with me and you’ll have a warm, safe place to sleep. And my buddy Wooyoung makes a mean breakfast.” 

“I’m not looking for charity.” 

“And I’m not stupid enough to not recognize a fellow military deserter when I see one,” Yunho said flatly, gaze hard and full of conviction. “I’m not offering charity. But I know how hard it is to get out, and it’s even harder to find a fresh start.” 

Sera inhaled sharply and did nothing but blink back at Yunho. He was also a deserter? Granted, she was much more than that, but objectively speaking she truly was just another poor soul trying to escape the military. It made sense though, especially with how quickly Yunho teased her apart in their short interaction. She chewed the inside of her cheek, debating her next step. Something inside told her that she could trust Yunho, at least at face value. At least enough for tonight.

“So, Just Sera, what do you say?” His eyes went back to glimmering in the streetlights, that endearing and warm smile returning. “At least for the night. Tomorrow you can decide your next steps, after a good night’s sleep and food.”

Yunho outstretched his hand as if offering for Sera to take it. Huffing loudly, Sera walked towards him, pushing it down by the wrist. As much as she wanted to say something smart, she refrained. 

“Thank you.” 

Yunho beamed at her. “Well that didn’t take much convincing. Our chariot awaits. It’s just a block over.” 

He walked next to her, but left a significant amount of space between them. Despite the rain, they walked slowly. Yunho tried to put Sera at ease with his actions, something she noticed and appreciated immediately. 

“So it’s the black SUV up there,” he said, pointing at the nondescript vehicle ahead. “My friend's name is Seonghwa, he’s as harmless as I am.” 

Through somewhat clenched teeth, Sera nodded. The wind had picked up, blowing the rain more intensely in their faces. Sera squinted at the impact of the droplets, tugging at the hood around her head. She wanted nothing more than to be out of this damn rain.

“Do you want the front or backseat?” Yunho asked once they were steps away from the car. “Sit where you’ll feel the most comfortable, okay?” 

“Backseat is fine.” 

Smiling, Yunho opened the door for her. Sera set her bag down first, scooching it to the middle before sliding into the seat. Yunho quickly got into the passenger’s seat, ignoring the glare from the man who Yunho stated was Seonghwa.

“Hwa, meet my new friend, Just Sera,” Yunho said casually, buckling the seatbelt. “Just Sera, this is Seonghwa.”

Seonghwa’s gaze flicked between Sera and Yunho. His hair was pitch black, skin nearly as tan as Sera’s. At some point his hair had clearly been styled, but thanks to the rain it fell flat against his head, although sharp designs were visible in the shaved undercut. Despite his eyes being narrowed, they were large and very expressive, colored a deep chocolate brown. 

“Your ‘friends’ aren’t allowed to come back to the house,” Seonghwa said curtly. 

Booming laughter filled the vehicle. “Not that type of friend, Hwa. My girl here is in need of a place to stay, though, at least for the night.”

“Not your girl, Yunho,” Sera muttered from the backseat, snapping her head to shoot Yunho her own leer. She felt increasingly awkward as the conversation between the two men progressed. 

A smile briefly flicked on Seonghwa’s face at her comment. “Have you spoken to Hongjoong about a… guest?” 

“We’ll be having that conversation at the house.” 

The two men stared down the other, neither giving an inch. Sera didn’t know who this Hongjoong was, but assumed in some way he must be in charge. In charge of what she didn’t know. Now she was curious just what she would be walking into this evening. 

Suddenly, Yunho turned to Sera, grinning once again. “Please excuse Seonghwa. He’s not typically this uptight.” His gaze returned to the driver. “Let’s get home, I’m soaking wet and smell like a damn dog.” 

The engine revved to life, Seonghwa sighing loudly in defeat and mumbling how Yunho is in fact a dog. Sera wondered what their dynamic was, along with the dynamics of the rest of the house. She was certain there were at least two more people since Yunho named them, but speculated there may be more. 

The drive to the house was a tense one. Yunho chattered aimlessly, but it seemed Seonghwa was in no mood to partake in any conversation. His silence did nothing to deter Yunho’s ramblings. Sera would occasionally answer a question if necessary, but chose to focus more on the trees speeding past the window and memorizing the number of turns, gauging the mileage between them. After roughly thirty minutes of driving with at least twenty of that being on winding gravel roads through the forest, the SUV pulled into a clearing. 

“Ah, welcome to the homestead, Just Sera,” Yunho said, casting a glance into the backseat with a smirk.

The ‘homestead’ as he called it was a huge farmhouse with a very welcoming wrap-around porch. A large garage was attached to one side, but there were at least two other pole buildings on the property that Sera could make out through the dark and falling rain. The clearing was surrounded primarily by trees, but thanks to a flash of lightning Sera saw a large lake a little ways back behind the house. 

A garage door opened in one of the detached buildings after Seonghwa clicked a button on a remote from the center console. He pulled the vehicle in, parking it between two other identical SUVs. More vehicles lined the garage,  including a couple smaller cars and a large flatbed truck. Partially covered in the corner were unmistakably drones, causing Sera to raise an eyebrow. There was definitely more to this little homestead than met the eye. 

Seonghwa turning off the motor shook Sera from her thoughts and observations. Both he and Yunho exited the vehicle quickly. Yunho once again opened Sera’s door for her, giving her that same blinding smile he’d been flashing her all evening. Returning a faint one, Sera grabbed her dingy bag. She attempted to sling it over her shoulder only for Yunho to snatch it out of her hands and put it on his own back. 

“This way, m’lady,” Yunho said with a dramatic bow, gesturing towards a door at the side of the building. 

Sera didn’t argue, simply rolled her eyes and followed the still silent Seonghwa. Now that they were out of the vehicle she was able to get a much better look at him. He was taller than she expected, still not quite the same height as Yunho but just as lean. His movements were all very smooth and graceful, like he was walking on air. Yunho walked beside Sera once more, but no longer seemed concerned about leaving space between them.

The rain was still coming down but had lightened significantly. The walk to the house wasn’t nearly as painful as the earlier walk to the car. Seonghwa continued to walk a few paces ahead of them, leaping up the steps and leaving the front door open for Sera and Yunho. 

The house was relatively dark, but from what Sera could tell it was well taken care of. She immediately stepped foot into a large entryway, finding a sitting room with numerous couches and chairs arranged methodically around a fireplace and TV to her left, an offset staircase to the right leading to what she could only assume was a second level, and a hallway on the other side of the staircase. 

Yunho and Seonghwa moved straight through the house, bypassing the living room and walking towards the lit room further back. Neither spoke, but Sera could see both men tensing the further into the large house they went. Soon Sera could hear new voices conversing, both male. Yunho adjusted Sera’s bag, fidgeting with it as the threesome stepped into a large kitchen.

Sera saw two men sitting within the large, extremely cared for kitchen. Wooden cabinets lined the walls, along with a huge fridge and granite counters One man sat at the raised portion of the countertop on one of the stools lining it, reading some sort of files laid in front of him. He had a mop of dark lavender hair on his head and unlike Yunho, Seonghwa, and Sera was completely dry. The second man had his back towards Sera, messing with something on the countertops between the fridge and oven. He was definitely shorter than both Yunho and Seonghwa, with black hair half pulled back in a messy ponytail. His oversized hoodie looked to be covered in grease.

“About time you made it back,” the purple haired one said with a small giggle. “What did you two-” He froze when he looked up from the stack of papers in front of him. When his gaze landed on Sera, he quickly shut the files and moved them to the side. It didn’t leave her when he addressed Seonghwa and Yunho. “And who is this?” 

At the question, the man at the counter turned around. He didn’t say anything, but looked just as surprised to see Sera standing awkwardly in the kitchen. Seonghwa had walked around the counter to stand next to the purple haired one, whom Sera deduced was Hongjoong based on Seonghwa’s question during the ride here. 

“This is my friend, Sera,” Yunho said simply. He placed Sera’s backpack on the floor and kept his eyes locked on the man's despite the glare he was receiving. “Just Sera, this is Hongjoong,” he nodded in the direction of the glaring man, “and Wooyoung. She needs a place to stay.”

The tension in the room was palpable. Hongjoong’s almond eyes flicked between Sera and Yunho. Seonghwa continued to stand with his arms crossed next to him, while Wooyoung leaned silently against the granite countertop. Finally, Hongjoong broke the silence and focused on Sera.

“Sorry, Sera, was it?” Hongjoong said tersely as he stood, gathering the files up around him. Sera nodded, jaw clenched. “Please excuse us for a moment. Yunho, Seonghwa, and I need to have a quick conversation. Privately.” 

Yunho flashed Sera a quick smile despite the somber faces both Hongjoong and Seonghwa wore. “Take good care of my girl Woo, I’m sure she’s starving,” he said with a wink towards Wooyoung before he followed the other two out of the kitchen.

Sera stood awkwardly for a moment, unsure of what to do. Clearly she was unwelcomed in this house. Seonghwa’s demeanor in the car made much more sense now that she had meant Hongjoong. Her original assumption of him being in charge was definitely correct, but she still hadn’t figured out to what exactly. She tried to catch a glimpse of the files in his hands, but couldn’t make anything out with how quickly he hid them. 

She looked around the rest of the kitchen, noticing the large table in what could only be a dining room, eight chairs set around it. So far she had only met four, meaning there were at least four other people somewhere in the house. 

“You can take a seat if you want,” Wooyoung said, shaking Sera out of her observations. He gestured towards the same stool Hongjoong had been sitting at. “Their conversations are never too quick.” 

Wooyoung smiled warmly at her, but remained wary and wouldn’t take his eyes off her for a multitude of reasons unknown to Sera. With her own grin, Sera moved towards the counter, studying him a little more intently. His features were sharp, highlighted by a cutting jawline, sparkling brown eyes, and golden skin. Multiple piercings were glinting in the light, although Sere couldn’t tell how many lined his ears.

He studied her just as much, wondering who she was to Yunho. ‘Friends’ of Yunho were not allowed in the house, leaving Wooyoung to assume there was something special about her, especially with the my girl comment. He did question what Yunho saw in Sera with her current state. She looked like she had been through the ringer. Her clothes were covered in mud, face nearly as dirty with visible bags underneath her eyes, hair ratted with sticks and blood visible in the long braid going down her back. Despite the filth, Wooyoung was completely mesmerized by the piercing blue eyes staring at him. 

“Are you the same Wooyoung that I heard makes a mean breakfast? Or is there another Wooyoung that lives here?” Sera asked with a laugh, remembering that Yunho mentioned  Wooyoung while convincing her to come to the house. It seemed like a perfect segway into conversation with him. Plus, without Hongjoong and Seonghwa in the room she felt more comfortable.

His eyes lit up even more when he laughed, sharp and loud. “I’m the only Wooyoung, thank you very much. But I also make a mean sammich. I was actually about to make one… would you like one?”

Sera raised an eyebrow at him, smirking. “A sammich?” 

“A sammich. One of my specialties, if I might add.” He turned back around, grabbing a loaf of bread and other ingredients out of the cupboards and fridge, hands immediately going to work on creating said speciality. “I’m thinking tea would be good too, want some?” 

“Both sound great, actually,” she said just as her stomach started growling. It had been weeks since she had a good meal, and her rain soaked clothes chilled her further. 

Humming while he worked, Wooyoung started the electric kettle sitting on the countertop. Sera quickly noticed that his tongue would poke out between his teeth when he seemed especially focused on a task. The kettle heated up within a couple of minutes and Wooyoung grabbed a couple of mugs before looking back at Sera.

“Chamomile okay with you?” 

“Only if you have honey.”

“Obviously,” he said with an exaggerated eye roll. He placed the tea bags in the mugs, pouring the boiling water over them carefully. “Maybe it’ll help you sleep. Looks like you need it,” he added as he set a mug and the container of honey in front of Sera.

Sera laughed. Something about Wooyoung made her feel at ease, very similar to how she felt around Yunho, even in their brief interactions. Both seemed kind and open, attributes she didn’t typically find in people. She learned very early on to trust her gut, but as always she prepared for the worst. Oddly enough, she felt like the worst that would come with Wooyoung would be a bit of teasing. 

“I’m not going to say you’re wrong about that,” she said, bobbing the tea bag in the water by the string. 

Judging by the look on his face, it appeared Wooyoung wanted to press her further. He met her eyes easily, laced with wonder and a hint of concern. Somehow he knew better than to ask too many questions. Instead he returned back to making their late night snack, only now he chose to chat with Sera instead of humming. While only meaningless small talk about the rain, it made Sera feel more comfortable nonetheless. 

After a few more minutes, Wooyoung set down a plate with a well put together sandwich and a handful of chips in front of her. He leaned down onto the counter across from her, grinning at her with a slightly mischievous glint in his eyes. 

Sera took a large bite, eyes rolling into the back of her head at the taste. It had been so long since she had anything remotely this tasty, even if it was just a sandwich. For just being a “sammich” as he called it, Wooyoung made it extremely flavorful with a variety of meats, cheeses, lettuce, tomato, and some sort of oil based sauce. It tasted heavenly.

“Told you I made a damn good sammich,” he gloated, grinning wildly with his tongue hooked on a canine. 

***

Hongjoong punched in the code to their planning room down the hall. Being soundproof, there was no possibility of Sera overhearing anything. He opened the door gruffly, gesturing for Yunho and Seonghwa to go in before him. 

Yunho flipped on the lights, illuminating the well organized room. The large meeting table was covered with systematically arranged files. Multiple screens and high tech control panels lined one of the walls, file cabinets and bookshelves along the others. Here they planned every single mission, debriefed information, and met with other factions of the resistance. 

“What are you thinking, Yunho?” Hongjoong asked the moment he closed the door. “Or are you thinking at all?” When he turned around, his glare pointed straight at Seonghwa. “And you? You just let him bring this girl we know nothing about into our home? Knowing we have a huge mission in ten days?”

Seonghwa raised his hands up, meeting the glare without fear. “He was adamant. You know how this goes.”

“From the beginning, Yunho. Explain,” Hongjoong said sharply.

Yunho sighed, running a hand through his drenched hair. “Hwa and I heard something outside the bar. I went to check it out and saw Keith and his buddies coming after her.”

“And you felt the need to jump in and save the day?” 

“Didn’t have to,” Yunho said with a shake of his head. “She had them on the ground in seconds, pretty sure she broke Keith’s nose, too. But there was something coming out of her hands at the end, some kind of shiny gold substance floating around her. When she turned around her eyes were the exact same color. They went back to normal and the substance went away with it. She was completely unarmed, so whatever her ability is has to be enough that she would feel safe without a gun. Plus, she fought just as well as all of us, honestly maybe even better than a few.”

“You still haven’t explained why you brought her here,” Hongjoong said while crossing his arms, ignoring Seonghwa’s scoff. 

“Because she’s a deserter, Captain. Just like me.” Yunho’s gaze bore into the leader “I don’t know how long she’s been out, but it can’t be long. Clearly she’s been on the run. If she’s that concerned about getting away then there’s something special about her. I know how hard it is to leave, and I was only in that hell for two years. It’s even harder to get your feet back under you. You helped me, and now she needs it. I couldn’t leave her.” 

Seonghwa’s eyes lit up as he was thinking. “Could there be a possibility that she’s the-?”

“We can’t assume every single girl we see is the princess, Seonghwa. We just got the notice that she might be on the run. There’s no confirmation yet,” Hongjoong said with a wave of his hand. Since they had gotten the news that the princess left the royal compound, the entire resistance was on high alert. “What’s your opinion of her?”

Seonghwa shrugged. “She didn’t seem like a threat when she got in the car, but I’m not the one who can read emotions. During the ride she didn’t say much, but seemed very observant. I didn’t see any of the fight, but I trust Yunho’s judgment in terms of her abilities.” 

Hongjoong continued pondering Yunho’s statement. When Yunho escaped he stumbled upon Hongjoong almost five years ago in a very similar manner as Sera did with Yunho. Now Yunho was one of his closest friends, along with the six other members of their team. Being second in command of their unit, Hongjoong trusted his judgment as much as his own.

“What does Sera know of us?” he questioned.

“Nothing, but she’ll figure it out quickly, guaranteed,” Yunho said with a smirk. “She’s smart, I can tell you that much.” 

“She’s your responsibility while she’s here… which will be for how long?” Hongjoong asked with a sigh. Seonghwa blinked in surprise with how easily Hongjoong gave in. 

“I don’t know, honestly. I want to figure her out, that I know for sure.” 

Seonghwa moved towards the door first. “Neither of the rooms are ready, I can go get one-”

Yunho shook his head. “Nah, she can sleep in my room tonight. I just switched out my sheets anyway. I’ll crash with Mingi. If she decides to stay longer, we can get one set up.” 

“We’ll need to inform the rest of the team to be careful while we're getting ready for this mission, but we still have a little bit of time before we really need to hit things hard,” Hongjoong said matter-of-factly. “Seonghwa, tell San when you go upstairs about our guest. Yunho, same with Mingi, Jongho, and Yeosang. We don’t want them to be too surprised in the morning.” 

“Thanks, Capt.” He followed Seonghwa out of the room, Hongjoong close behind. 

Yunho was entirely surprised by what he saw when they reentered the kitchen. Sera smiled and laughed with Wooyoung, looking much more relaxed than she had all night. He really had made something for Sera to eat based on the empty plates in front of both. Yunho would have to thank him for that in the morning. Now the two of them sipped from steaming mugs and talked, although about what Yunho couldn’t quite make out.

Seonghwa continued through the kitchen, muttering a faint good night to everyone before disappearing. Hongjoong paused at the entry to the kitchen, crossing his arms while he watched the others in front of him. 

“Thanks for taking good care of my girl, Woo,” Yunho said with a smirk as he went to stand beside Wooyoung, making him jump slightly. “Just Sera, if you’ll follow me I’ll show you to your room this evening.” 

Wooyoung grabbed the empty plates and took them to the sink. His demeanor changed entirely upon Yunho’s entrance, becoming a little more hardened than he was with just Sera for some reason. “Sure thing, Yu.”

Sera stood up, walking towards Wooyoung and the sink. She deposited the empty mug within it, pausing to look at Wooyoung once more. “Thank you for the sammich,” she said warmly, giving him a genuine smile. She made sure to use his wordage for it, an addition he appreciated greatly. Wooyoung had been nothing but kind to her, making her feel very welcome in a situation where she clearly wasn’t originally. 

“Anytime, Sera,” he responded with his own small smile before he turned on the faucet and began washing both their dishes from this evening. “But next time, you get dish duty,” he added with a wink and a bite of his bottom lip. 

Yunho had grabbed Sera’s backpack and leaned against the wooden frame of the entry back into the living room while he waited. Without a word, she followed him, but not before tossing a glance back at Hongjoong. His dark eyes bored her. This time, though, they were much softer when she met them, quite opposite of how he first looked at her. A touch of a smile crossed his face and he gave Sera a small nod before he also disappeared from the kitchen. 

On the way through the living room, Yunho placed a finger against his lips before leading her up the stairs in a gentle reminder to be silent. Once up the stairs, Sera found herself in a decently sized open space with a couple of chairs and a couch around a coffee table in the center. The house was much bigger than Sera originally thought based on not only the size of the rooms she saw downstairs, but also the amount of doors that lined this floor.

Along the wall of the staircase downstairs was a door, with two more along the adjacent wall. The wall directly in front of Sera housed yet another door and a spiral staircase that led to a third floor, with the final wall also donning two more doors. All had a touchpad in front of them.

Yunho led her across the center rug and through the comfy couches to the door closest to the spiral staircase. The touchpad scanned his fingerprint, unlocking the door with a click.

“It’s a good thing I just cleaned in here,” Yunho whispered as he opened the door and turned on the light, motioning for Sera to enter. When they were both inside, Yunho shut the door behind them. “Welcome to my little corner of the house.”

His room was spotless. A cleanly made bed covered with an extremely comfortable looking gray comforter sat in the corner with a bedside table containing a clock, watch charger, and a lamp  situated next to it. A desk with a laptop was nestled in the corner near one of the two windows in the room. The dresser didn’t have much sitting upon it other than a few books that he must have taken off the small bookshelf. 

Yunho dropped Sera’s bag and moved to the dresser. “I’m going to crash with Mingi tonight, so don’t worry about us having to snuggle or something tonight.” Sera made a mental note of the name. He pulled out a couple of pairs of sweats and a t-shirt before going into his closet, where he grabbed a crewneck sweatshirt. “We have two open rooms, so if you decide to stay longer we’ll get one of those set up for you tomorrow.” 

Sera watched as Yunho set one pair of sweats and the hoodie on his bed. “Thank you, for everything,” she said sincerely. “I didn’t mean to cause any trouble though, so I’m sorry if you are.”

“No trouble,” he said with a wave of his hands. “Hongjoong is just wary of new faces, that’s all. Same with Seonghwa.”

“I will say, you’re awfully trusting of a random girl you just met on the street,” Sera said, only teasing slightly. She wanted to press him further about Hongjoong, but decided now was not the time. Exhaustion hit her and she wanted nothing more than to shower and crawl into Yunho’s warm bed. 

“And you’re awfully trusting of a guy you just met on the street,” Yunho said with a shrug as he stepped closer. It was the closest they had been all evening, no more than six inches separating them. “I guess we’ll see if we both made the right decision, yeah?” 

If the situation had been any different, Sera might have felt somewhat intimidated. Yunho towered over her, but nothing about him screamed danger to her. She looked up at him, meeting his gaze with ease. They both studied each other, wondering what lay hidden beneath the surface. 

“There’s a bathroom through there, towels in the cabinet. Use whatever you need,” Yunho said, gesturing towards the door with his head. “I share it with Yeosang, he lives in the next room over. If you lock the door you’ll be fine, but I’m going to let him know you’re in here so he’s not surprised. The clothes on the bed are for you tonight. Throw everything in the gray bathroom hamper, plus whatever you have in your bag and set it back in here. I can get the laundry started while you’re showering.”

Yeosang. A sixth name for her to remember. Two left to find out. 

“You are not doing my laundry for me,” Sera laughed. The thought of Yunho washing her disgusting clothes appalled her. “I am more than capable of doing that in the morning.” 

“I have my own to do anyway.” Yunho rolled his eyes dramatically, even crossing his arms as he stared down at her. “Accept the help, Sera.” 

Moving away from his stare, Sera sighed. This was an argument she was not going to win. “Calling me by my real name? You must be serious,” she said, stepping backwards towards the bed to grab Yunho’s clothes. 

“Don’t get used to it, Just Sera.” 

Sera grabbed the clothes and her bag from the floor, pausing at the bathroom door. “I really do appreciate all of this, Yunho.” 

“I’ll see you in the morning, okay? We’re all usually up by 8:30 at the latest, but sleep as long as you need.” The smile he gave her was blinding, eyes brimming with sincerity. Now, Serea was certain that she made the correct decision in trusting him. 

Without another word but a wink, Yunho left the room, leaving Sera to enter the bathroom. It was just as clean as his bedroom, but nothing special with a large glass enclosed shower, a toilet, and a sink. She immediately locked the opposite door that must lead to Yeosang’s room. She could faintly hear two voices on the other side when she got close, but couldn’t make out what either said. Yunho must have gone straight there when he left. 

Sera jumped slightly when she caught the image of herself in the mirror. It was the first time she had seen herself in days. Her hair was a disaster, even worse than she originally thought and she wondered how long it would take for her to brush out all the rats. The mud coating her skin would be easily taken care of with the shower. Her face was skinnier, and she could only imagine what her body looked like. 

Brushing out her hair didn’t take as long as she originally anticipated, but she grimaced the entire time. She only grumbled slightly when she dumped her clothes into the gray hamper as Yunho ordered. Even though there were clothes at the bottom of it, she knew the insistence on doing laundry was for her benefit.  After she stripped off her soaked clothes she threw the hamper outside the door, making sure to lock it again. 

She definitely lost weight, confirming her suspicion. Her ribs protruded more than usual, skin sallow. The black vine spiraling her ribs, arm, and thigh stood out against it. Even the colorful flowers appeared more vibrant against the now pale canvas. Her fingers slid across the triangles on her forearm like every other time she missed Ryland and the pang of guilty that accompanied it. Tears built within her eyes as she turned on the shower. Instead of shoving them down like she did every other night she let them fall freely, mixing with the steady flow of water hitting her face. Sera hadn’t allowed herself to feel anything besides the urgency to escape. But here with the little sense of safety she felt thanks to Yunho and Wooyoung she let her emotions out.

The tears didn’t last long, though, especially once Sera focused on washing the weeks worth of grim from her body. The amount of supplies in the shower surprised Sera, especially with it being used solely by two men.  Her skin felt raw from how firmly she scrubbed her body. The water turned a dingy shade of brown as it cascaded down her body and she hadn’t even touched her hair yet. 

“Sera?” The knock on the door startled her even though she recognized Yunho’s voice immediately. “I’m grabbing the laundry… I’ll lock the door behind me, so don’t worry about anyone coming in tonight or in the morning. If you need something, I’m upstairs in the room on the left.” 

“Thanks, Yunho,” Sera half-yelled back, but wasn’t sure he could hear her response over the shower and through the door. She didn’t want to run the risk of waking up Yeosang by yelling too loudly. 

Yunho made no indication whether he heard her or not, but based on the silence Sera assumed he left the room. Her focus went back to the shower and getting every ounce of dirt off her. Whatever body wash she used smelled delicious, floral and musky all at once. Same with the  shampoo and conditioner with their hints of coconut. These men already surprised her and she didn’t even know them.

She stood in the shower for ages. The water pressure rivaled that of hers at the royal compound and massaged her weary body. It had been weeks since she felt this clean. Sera honestly couldn’t remember if any of the showers since leaving the compound had hot water lasting longer than three minutes. Regardless, the hot shower and the steam were a treat, one she wanted to enjoy as long as possible.

It was only when she felt herself nod off for a moment that she turned the faucet off. Tiredness had finally caught up with her. She quickly dried off, towel drying her hair as best she could before putting on Yunho’s clothes. Sera swam in them. The sweats bunched around her ankles with how long they were, and she had to pull the drawstring extremely tight to keep them on her waist. The hoodie fit the same, falling almost to her knees and over her hands. But, she felt comfortable and warm.

Somehow she remembered to unlock the door to Yeosang’s room before shuffling back to Yunho’s. While Sera was showering Yunho turned off the lights and clicked on the lamp, dimming the room. He even went as far to grab her an additional blanket. 

The bed was just as comfortable as Sera imagined it to be, the comforter and sheets just as plush. They smelled fresh and clean, only making her more relaxed. Flicking off the lamp, she sunk into the mattress and pulled the blankets up to her chin. For the first time since leaving her home, sleep hit her quickly and deeply. 

***

A running shower woke Sera the next morning. Blinking heavily, it took her a moment to gather her bearings on where she was. Some house in the woods. Yunho’s room. Somewhat safe, or at least safer than she had in the wild. She felt like she actually slept for once, not dreaming in the slightest, no nightmares creeping their way in. Not only that, Sera was clean. Suddenly she felt even more grateful for everything Wooyoung and Yunho had done for her. 

Stretching, she sat up and checked the clock. 8:45am. Earlier then she wanted to be awake, but knew she would be unable to fall back asleep. With a brush back of her hair she stood up to make the bed and fold the extra blanket. She didn’t want to leave Yunho’s room a mess, especially since she didn’t know whether she would stay longer.

With everything put back in place, she debated on whether or not to head downstairs. Remembering what Yunho said about everyone usually being awake early, she didn’t know how she felt about walking into a room full of people she didn’t know. While unsettling, it was nothing she couldn’t handle. Based on what she gathered, Yunho would put her comfort on the forefront. With that in mind, Sera decided to head to the kitchen.

“Sera?” 

She jumped slightly at Wooyoung’s voice, finding him sitting on one of the chairs in the area outside the bedrooms. Granted, one of the other five doors could be his bedroom. He seemed just as surprised to see her coming out of Yunho’s room… wearing Yunho’s clothes. Not only that, he was even more taken aback by Sera now that she wasn’t soaking wet and caked in mud. 

“Hey! Good morning, Wooyoung,” she grinned, eyes sparkling in the sunlight sneaking through the window. He didn’t know how, but they seemed more blue than they did last night. “What are you doing?” She moved closer to him, resting her hands on the back of the chair, leaning over it slightly.

Wooyoung looked up at her. “I was waiting for Yeosang.” The smile he returned wasn’t as bright as those he provided her last night. Sera wondered what changed with him. “But he’s slow this morning.”

“Yeah, I think he just got in the shower…” Sera murmured, standing back up. “Do I still get an opportunity to try this breakfast I heard about? Or are your skills only reserved for sandwiches?”

Laughing loudly, Wooyoung stood up, scrunching his nose at Sera. “My skills go far beyond that, Sera.” His eyes went hazy for a moment before a genuine smile came through, breaking whatever thought rolled in his head. “I also make the perfect cup of coffee.”

“Oh can you now?” Sera teased. Together they moved towards the staircase, heading for the kitchen. “Perfect for you, or perfect for whoever drinks it?” 

“Are you challenging me?” Wooyoung smirked at her, resting his tongue on his canine like he did last night. 

Their conversation halted when they reached the kitchen. Sera froze momentarily in the doorway when she saw Hongjoong, Seonghwa, and a third man she didn’t recognize all sitting around the large table. Wooyoung squeezed by her, giving her an encouraging smile to coax her into the room. 

The three at the table paused their chatting at Wooyoung and Sera’s entrance. Hongjoong smiled at Sera, something completely unexpected. Seonghwa’s gaze was much softer this morning, making Sera see just how large and round his eyes really were. The third man studied her, looking her up and down. His hair was a shocking pink, bangs going into his cat-like eyes. Sera could see his well defined arms clear as day, looking much more built than Hongjoong and Seonghwa next to him. 

“Good morning, Sera,” Hongjoong said, sounding surprisingly chipper. His elbows rested on the table, mug gripped loosely in both hands. He watched her closely as she sat down at the countertop. “This is San. San, Sera.” 

The pink haired man, San, beamed at her. Deep dimples bracketed his smile, eyes crinkling from how large it was. “Hi.” He turned his head to Seonghwa. “You could have mentioned she was hot.” 

Seonghwa nearly spit out his coffee at San’s comment. Wooyoung’s head spun around to look at him, looking unsure whether he should laugh or not. Hongjoong simply sighed, chuckling slightly. Heat rushed into Sera’s cheeks, uncertain how she should respond.

“Who’s hot?” Yunho’s voice carried through the kitchen when he entered. His eyes lit up when he saw Sera sitting in the stool. “Ah, Just Sera, I see you’ve met San.” Two more men walked in behind him. “Told you she was real, Mingi,” he added, taking a seat at the stool next to her.

Yunho spoke to the man directly behind him. He stood nearly as tall as Yunho, although looked more muscular. His black hair had random streaks of blonde throughout. The last man was shorter than both and stockier with dark, clean cut hair. He moved past the counter to sit with Seonghwa, San, and Hongjoong at the table. 

“It wouldn’t have been the first time you’ve made a fake excuse to come sleep in my room,” Mingi said with a pronounced eye roll, sitting on the stool beside Yunho. His voice was deep and gravelly. He leaned forward around Yunho, smiling. “Hi Sera, I’m Mingi.” 

“Apologize for questioning my girl’s existence,” Yunho said flatly, staring at Mingi with false anger. Mingi only laughed.

“You slept in Mingi’s room last night?” Wooyoung asked Yunho when he placed a mug in front of Sera. His eyes swept between her and Yunho. Now it made sense why Sera came out of his room. Internally he scolded himself for overthinking, and also for letting himself get upset by seeing Sera in Yunho’s clothes when he had no context as to why. In reality he had no reason to be upset in the first place. 

She hadn’t even noticed him making the coffee, having been too distracted by everyone coming into the kitchen. It looked delicious. He even frothed milk before pouring it over. The smell of hazelnut wafted towards her in the steam, making her smile even larger at Wooyoung. His eyes and smile were back to being extremely warm with her. When she took a sip of it she realized it really was perfect. Not how she typically made hers, but could quickly become a new favorite. Wooyoung must have read the look on her face. Instead of gloating he gave her a wink, a subtle ‘I told you so.’

“Well, yeah?” Yunho seemed confused by Wooyoung’s question, but shook it off quickly. “I think a better question is why Sera gets a coffee immediately while the rest of us are sitting here like peasants.”  

“Because Woo only makes coffee for people he likes,” San said matter of factly. Everyone in the room snickered and laughed while both Sera and Wooyoung’s faces turned beet red. 

“Have we just forgotten about me?” the last man asked. He had been sitting so quietly Sera almost forgot he had sat down. “My name is Jongho.” 

Sera smiled at him. “Hi, Jongho.” 

“Why is everyone so loud?” a voice grumbled loudly, shuffling his feet as he walked. He plopped down next to Mingi on the final stool. His black hair was still damp and partially covered a pink birth mark near his eyes. Based on his wet hair, Sera assumed this was Yeosang.

“Glad you finally decided to join us,” Jongho said with a gummy smile. “Normally you’re the first one down here.”

“Normally I’m not woken up in the middle of the night,” Yeosang responded, taking the mug of coffee out of Wooyoung’s hand before there was a chance to set it down. Much like Mingi, Yeosang leaned over to speak to Sera. “I’m Yeosang, it’s nice to meet you Sera.” 

“You too,” Sera said faintly. She held her own mug against her chest, taking in the group around her. 

Yunho dipped his head towards her. “How did you sleep last night?” he asked softly. The chatter of the seven men around her and Wooyoung banging cupboards and pans in the kitchen nearly drowned out his question. 

“Well, surprisingly enough.”

“I’m sure a bit of beauty sleep did you wonders, not that you needed much of it,” Yunho joked, laughing slightly to himself. Sera glared at him. “I’m sorry, I had to. Have you decided what you’re going to do yet?” 

Sera sighed and stared down at her coffee. She felt torn. Another night of a warm bed was enticing. But the last thing she wanted to be was an inconvenience. A burden. It wasn’t in her nature to accept help. As safe as these people seemed, she didn’t know them. Once again, though, her gut was telling her that she could trust them. 

“I don’t want to be a bother Yunho.”

“Sera, you are welcome to stay. You can trust me. You can trust all of us.’ His gaze was so intense she could feel it burning into her. “I want you to stay, if it’s any consolation. Take the time to rest. I can reach out to some of my contacts-”

“No. No reaching out, Yunho,” Sera said sharply. The last thing she needed was her name circling around as a military deserter. There were plenty of others in her exact position, but she couldn’t risk it. “I’m sorry, I just-”

“No need to apologize, I get it. You and I will figure out what you do next. Stay a few more days. Give us some time.”

“A few more days, then.” 

With her answer, Yunho relaxed and returned to the general conversation around them. Wooyoung pestered Jongho to help him make breakfast for everyone, to which he did cave in. San and Yeosang gave Wooyoung a hard time about how much effort he placed into breakfast this morning, not so subtly hinting that it had something to do with Sera. Mingi kept complaining about Yunho and his incessant snuggling, to which the latter stated Mingi secretly loved it. Seonghwa eventually stood and helped Wooyoung and Jongho in the kitchen, acting like a mediator with their bickering on whether or not to make pancakes or french toast. Sera chimed in here and there, but it didn’t take long for them to intentionally include her.

Sera observed them all intently, analyzing their dynamics and trying to tease out just what this group of eight was. All while Hongjoong was doing the same with Sera. At one point the two made eye contact, taking the time to study one another further. Hongjoong was beginning to agree with Yunho. There was something special about her, even though he was unsure what yet. But, he was determined to figure it out. Just as Sera was determined to figure them out.

[vurthshistorian]

My Last Post About TTRPG's Got 15 Likes so I gotta talk about another one.

Vagabond Pulp Fantasy.

A Roll to Beat RPG System.

Taking inspiration from Fria Ligen's

But flipping the dice.

To use Taron Pounds Own Words:

This system advertises its easy Math, because it's mostly done when you make your character.

Your Skills in this system are

Might

Dexterity

Awareness

Logic

Presence

And last but not least

Luck

Might determines your Endurance.

Dexterity and Awareness determines your Reflexes.

Logic and Presence Determines your Willpower.

These are your saving throws, it looks familiar if you've played Pathfinder 2e.

Luck is a Bit Special. Luck determines your luck pool.

From Chapter 6:

Yeah. This baby has rules if you decide to go it alone, or if you decide to find some Jolly Co-operation.

Your 6 Scores govern other things than your Saving Throws.

Might

Your Health and your Hit Die Size

Going from 2-3 Might D6 Hit Die, 4-5 Might D8 Hit Die, to 6-7 Might D10 Hit Die.

Your Character's Melee Skill and your Brawl Skill covering Traditional Melee Weapons, while Brawl Covers Punching, Kicking, Grappling, and Shoving.

Your Character's Bulk/Item Slots, Which sits at 8 Slots + Your Character's Might Score.

Dexterity

Your Character's Movement Speed.

Your Movement Speed starts at 25ft with a 2-3 dexterity, increasing to 30 at 4&5, and capping 35 at 6&7.

Finesse.

Attacking with Weapons that have the Finesse property.

Pickpocketing. Which lets you steal weight 1 items off close targets, but if they're aware you will be hindred.

Lockpicking. As long as you have the right tool, you have a shot of cracking that lock. However if you fail the Game Runner may see fit to move up the progress clock or possibly alert the guards.

Sneaking.

Classic Skulking about and Avoiding Enemy Detection.

Awareness

Detect.

Locating, You can wave moving in favor of using your eyes to check the area for concealed enemies.

Vigilance, Feel Eyes over your shoulder? If enemies are attempting to get the jump on you, you'll need to roll Detect to see if you can whoop their ass on Turn 1.

Mysticism. The Casting Skill of Druids and Luminaries. Is the skill about understanding the Super Natural.

Survival. Need to Track someone or something? Need an Intrinsic Knowledge of Vegetable Animal and Mineral? Then you need training in this skill if you want to be the model of a Modern Major General.

Ranged Attacks.

Instead of Traditional Approaches, Your Eyes and Ears are what guide your Bows, Throwing Knives, And Classical Firearms.

Logic.

Arcana.

This is the Skill to Use and Apply Magic. This is the Spell Skill of Wizards and Magi.

Medicine

This is Your Character's Knowledge on Non-Magical Healing. If you want to be able to treat wounds, you need to be trained in this skill.

Crafting.

Crafting is a bit Wisely Worded so I'll let the mechanics speak for itself.

Presence.

Influence.

This is your Sorcerer's Spell Skill. This skill is about Persuasion, Deception, Negotiation, and Corrosion. Including the ability to Parley, a skill check that could end a Hostile Encounter.

Leadership

This is the Spell Skill of the Revelators, the Paladins of Vagabond. Need to Motivate, Need to Rally, Need to Command Hirelings or Troops? Leadership is your skill.

Performance

Can you sing, can you dance, can you play a funny flute, a bassoon, a Bass? This is your skill. This skill can also be used in different and interesting ways.

And that covers skills.

If Tumblr Will Let Me. Let's talk about Armor and how your ass will be covered.

This System doesn't have Armor Class. Instead it takes a Dragonbane Approach of "Yeah your ass is getting hit, but your armor will tank some of the incoming damage."

To illustrate.

Now you may ask, What About Shields?

In Vagabond Shields are a Type of Low Damage Weapon that can Feature the BLOCK property, which lets you roll Favor with your Block Saves.

A Block Save is a Parry Made with a weapon in your hand in order to Negate Damage.

Alternatively You can Dodge. If there's an attack coming your way, Roll that Reflex save I mentioned and you can get out of harm's way.

Now for the Fun Bits.

Ancestry and Classes.

Ancestries include

Humans

Dwarves

Elves

Halflings

Drakens

Orcs

Goblins.

Classes Include

Alchemists

Barbarians

Bards

Dancers

Druids

Fighters

Gunslingers

Hunters

Luminaries

Magi

Merchants

Pugilists

Revelators

Rogues

Sorcerers

Vanguards

Witches

Wizards.

Each of which pick up abilities and perks as your Vagabond Game goes on.

And there are rules for making it go on.

Suffice it to say if you dig any of:

This.

I highly suggest you pick up the Quick Start Guide for $Free.99

At

Or

Purchase the full Vagabond Core Rulebook for $29.99

At

I like supporting cool people doing cool shit and it would mean a lot if you just checked it out to see whether or not it's for you.

Me personally?

I have faith in Vagabond.

My bank account still fucking hates me.

[rowancampbell-author]

Writer Q&A Tag Game

Thanks to @mthollowell-writes for the tag! Find their original post here.

1)What motivates you to write?

Mostly reading fantastic stories and becoming inspired with ideas about my own work. Also the people in my life like my sister who is also a writer; her vivid words inspire me all the time. I am also heavily motivated by my love of my characters, and a little bit of my guilt that I have not finished one of my novels (the first one) that I have been writing for soooo long.

2) A line/short snippet of your writing that you are most proud/happy of. If not maybe share a line of someone else's work you love (just please credit them)

Shared my own work from Bloodlines.

Every day she fought the wolf for control. Every day to stop herself from hurting anyone. The wolf was the worst, most animal parts of her, and most of those dark parts wanted nothing more than vengeance. To cause the chaos and suffering done to her. Before Eron and her suspension from The Order three years ago, that’s what she did. The wolf that now sulked beneath her flesh missed the blood. Every day it tried to take control, to turn her back into a monster.

3) Which OC makes you smile every time you think/talk about them and what are they like?

Jackal Bellare from my WIP Bloodlines. He is always my answer because he is just so fun to write. He is that character that came fully formed. Nothing to change, nothing to define, he just appeared. He is a smartass, deceptive and manipulative. He at first is very selfish because he was forced to grow up fast and was abused by his father for many years. He pushed him to achieve his own goals and basically taught Jackal that no one would love him, not even his own family. So he grew up thinking he couldn't trust anyone and that everyone he met would be angling for something. He is also ridiculously powerful as a demon and can be impatient and even petulant. And he's classist too, thinking he's better than anyone who's not at his power-level. These are all fairly awful traits, but I love him still because I know the depths of his character and that all he truly wants is friends that he can trust, a surrogate family that actually gives a shit about him.

4) What process of writing do you enjoy the most?

I love the discovery/investigation phase best I think. Imagining the world and then researching and defining what I need to. I love to learn new things, and I always do in that stage.

5) What part of writing do you think you are the best at? (Yes stroke your own ego it's okay)

I would say action scenes and dialogue are my greatest strengths. I can plot as well, but I am more of a character focused writer so most of the plots are pretty simple in concept and execution. I am also not too shabby with the NSFW scenes, but I don't write detailed smut. It's not my thing anymore.

6) What is something in the writeblr community is most enjoyable?

Doing tag games! no really. I love answering questions and seeing other's posts about this stuff. I also just appreciate the vibes, everyone is very friendly and inclusive and it's refreshing.

7) A writing tool/device you use that helps you with writing? (It could be speech to text, a writing program etc)

Microsoft Word has always been my go to. I really appreciate the formatting and how easy everything is. It's also great for editing. I have also used fighter's block to help me reach my goals in a fun way.

8) A piece of worldbuilding that you like in your own story? (It could be the magic system, a particular place in the story, a law etc)

I would say Pandemonium from my novel Bloodlines. This is the planet where demons live. I really just like the lore I have built around demons in general because they are inspired by lots of things but not tied to any real-world religions or mythology. Also in that story one of the types of demons are dragons (Draconem) and they have the power to shapeshift from their real form (dragon) to a human, and change their mass even. There are also these garbage disposal-like demons that have no heads and a mouth on their chest. These are heavily inspired by Blemmyes. I even have a separate dominion for Hell, which in my series is unusually referred to as Gehenna. The realm is a prison obviously, but instead of one place, or several levels like the circles, each Hell is a separate dimension governed by Warden that has a particular specially for punishment. I also have demons that are kind of like Valkyries, they are basically the law enforcement and are super scary even to other types of demons because they can make you tell the truth just by looking into your eyes. There are Demon Kings (which in my novels is a non-gender term, just go with it) and each one has a different rank and they serve as military leaders as well. They also have cool titles, like King of Slaughter (he's the war general and most powerful warrior). I could go on for ages. I spent a lot of time on the lore around demons because originally the novels were going to take place there exclusively and the main character was a Demon King.

9) What piece of advice would you say to encourage others to write if they are having a rough patch?

I usually step away for a bit, and look at it again later. Sometimes it sparks new ideas and even makes me appreciate what I have already. I would really just advise that you don't be too hard on yourself. It's better to go slower and work smarter, so you don't burn out and end up in an uninspired state of procrastination. Goals are important too, but don't compare yourself to other writers. Make goals you know you can achieve and set times and make space to work.

10) Tag some people whose works you love/have been your biggest supporters:

Obviously @dyrewrites needs to be first. She is my sister and was the one that got me on writeblr in the first place. And what an amazing community! I haven't been here long, but I can say that I get a lot of attention and really cool asks from these amazing people:

@stesierra - @aziz-reads - @digital-chance - @mthollowell-writes - @quantumlandbooks - @anonymousfoz - @another-white-hole @inkytealeafwriting - @schepper-wubs-wips - @hottubraccoon

You all are lovely people and if you want to join in on this tag please do.

[meredithhutton79]

Living with chronic pain is an unrelenting battle. It’s not just the physical agony, but the mental and emotional toll that can be truly debilitating. The constant discomfort, the fatigue, the frustration of a body that feels like it has betrayed you – for me and countless others suffering with chronic pain, it’s a heavy burden to carry. In this landscape of struggle, a simple, almost deceptively easy, habit is emerging as a powerful tool for those who suffer: Mel Robbins’ "The High 5 Habit." 

A couple months ago I discovered motivational speaker Mel Robbins after a friend recommended her podcast to me, and I liked her right away. I liked what she had to say and it resonated with my brain so it didn’t take long before I downloaded her bestselling audiobook, The 5 Second Rule, and started listening to it. I actually wrote a blog post about it last week (5 Second Rule Blog Post). When I heard her voice, as if she was speaking directly to me, I knew words would have a profound impact on my productivity, self esteem, and mental health. 

If you don’t already know who.......continued on blog......

To read how The High 5 Habit can change your life despite chronic pain, head on over to my blog at: meredithhutton79.com/meredithhutton79

[letterhanna]

Introduction: The Modest Marvel of the Alphabet

Today, we shine a spotlight on a small but mighty character in the world of typography—the lowercase “i.” It’s often overlooked, nestled quietly between other letters, but it holds a fascinating legacy and design elegance that deserves center stage. From medieval scripts to modern logos, the “i” has traveled far—always bringing its iconic dot (or tittle, if you want to sound fancy) along for the ride.

So, let’s grab our type loupe and get nerdy about this slim, vertical superstar!

A Brief History: From Quills to Glyphs

The origins of the lowercase “i” trace back to the Roman alphabet. Initially, there was no distinction between upper- and lowercase letters in ancient Latin. The “i” started as a simple vertical stroke (or iota in Greek), often written without a dot. As writing tools evolved—especially with the switch from chisel to quill—scribes began to shorten and stylize certain characters.

By the 7th to 9th centuries, during the Carolingian Renaissance, a more legible, consistent form of lowercase letters emerged. The “i” was refined into a short vertical line, but here’s where it gets interesting: the dot wasn’t originally part of the package!

The tittle (the official term for the dot above the “i” and “j”) appeared around the 11th century. Why? Because in the dense and curly manuscripts of the time, an “i” next to an “m” or “n” looked like a mess of vertical lines. The dot was a lifesaver for clarity—and it stuck.

Anatomy of the Letter “i”

Despite its simplicity, the letter “i” has distinct features:

Stem: The vertical stroke that forms the body.

Tittle: The iconic dot, usually a small circle or square depending on the typeface.

Height: The stem usually aligns with the x-height of the font.

Axis and Contrast: In serif fonts, there may be a slight contrast between thick and thin, though minimal in this letter.

In geometric sans-serifs like Futura or Avenir, the “i” is ultra-clean—just a straight line and a perfect dot. In old-style serifs like Garamond, the tittle may appear teardrop-shaped, adding elegance and humanist flair.

Crafting the Perfect “i” – Tips for Font Designers

Designing the lowercase “i” seems easy, right? It’s just a line and a dot! But any font designer will tell you—it’s deceptively simple. Here's how to approach it:

Harmony is Key: The “i” must align visually with other lowercase letters. Its stem width should match similar strokes, and its height should match the x-height.

Tittle Placement: The dot shouldn’t be too high or too close. It needs breathing room but also must feel connected. Some designers use the cap height as a guide for tittle positioning.

Shape the Tittle with Intention: The tittle’s shape communicates the tone of the typeface. Round = friendly. Square = modern. Teardrop = elegant.

Spacing is Critical: The “i” often affects the rhythm of type—especially in combinations like “iii” or “i” followed by punctuation. Kerning around “i” requires extra care.

Italic Challenges: In italics, the tittle often slants forward or takes on a more expressive form. This gives personality to script and calligraphic fonts.

Where “i” Shines in Design

Designers love “i” because it's one of the few letters with a floating element. Logos, especially tech startups, love to play with the “i”:

Pinterest and Fiverr make subtle tweaks to their “i” to give unique flavor.

TikTok’s lowercase “i” in its logotype adds balance and playfulness.

Apple’s “i”-series (iPhone, iPad) made the lowercase “i” a tech icon!

In these cases, the “i” becomes more than a letter—it becomes a brand ambassador.

Fun Facts About “i” – Because Why Not?

The term “tittle” comes from the Latin titulus, meaning “inscription or heading.” Yep, the dot has its own etymology!

The “i” is the most common vowel in many European languages, including English.

There’s a palindromic word made up entirely of “i”s in dictionaries: iii (used for Roman numeral three in stylized text).

In some futuristic fonts, the tittle becomes a tiny square or diamond, a nod to digital pixelation.

Final Thoughts

The lowercase “i” may be small in stature, but it’s loaded with design implications. From legibility and branding to calligraphic elegance, “i” wears many hats—or rather, dots.

So tomorrow, when you type “I’m in,” take a moment to admire the humble elegance of the “i.” It’s not just a letter—it’s a legacy.

https://letterhanna.com/introduction-the-modest-marvel-of-the-alphabet/

[gingermcl]

The chosen wording used in the mainstream is intentional and often encoded or the inversion of truth.

The phrase “seeing is believing” comes to mind. It plays directly into the flaw of relying on the external as the measure of truth. When humans are trained to prioritize what they see over internal knowing or intuition, it becomes easy to manipulate them. Visual deception is one of the most effective tools in the control system; belief systems form quickly and resist contradiction once that sensory input is locked in. Seeing is believing refers to how easy it is to visually fool someone and how difficult it can be for someone to find the truth after they’ve been shown a lie. Humans are programmed to believe what they see.

There’s literally a “lie” in the middle of the word belief—and beliefs are often not truth. Beliefs are easily hijacked and weaponized. The system relies on belief to function: belief in government, belief in media, belief in money, belief in science as dogma, the list goes on.

9/11 is a perfect example. A powerful visual event—played over and over and over—etched into global consciousness. Whether planes were actually used or not, the image itself became the truth for billions. Any contradictory evidence, even from credible eyewitnesses, gets filtered out by the sheer volume of visual reinforcement. If 100 eyewitnesses said there were no planes - they get drowned out by the billions shown planes on tell lie vision. Lots of power in visual programming.

Reconnecting to inner knowing is critical because the system deals in external spectacle. Looking out there for what's real is looking where the mimic thrives.

The inversion is often closer to truth. In this case -

“Seeing is believing” is a weaponized trap.

Knowing is seeing is likely the truth.

Discernment lives not in the eyes, but in an inner awareness that no image can touch.