#the cheating trope needs to die

[likesomekindofcheese]

Prayer Circle

🕯🕯🕯

🕯 Grigor/Marial is 🕯

🕯 retconned in S3 🕯

🕯 of The Great 🕯

🕯 And he goes back 🕯

🕯 To his wife 🕯

🕯 🕯

🕯 🕯 🕯

#I freaking hated that subplot #The Great #Girgor Dymov #Georgiana Dymov #George Dymov #gwilym lee #the great #bohrap cast #the cheating trope needs to die #welsh disney prince #Charity Wakefield #Marial #Phoebe Fox #the great season 3 #the Great series

[cy-cyborg]

Disability Tropes: The Miracle Cure

The miracle cure is a trope with a pretty negative reputation in disability circles, especially online. It describes a scenario in which, a disabled character, through either magic, advanced technology, divine intervention or some combination of the three, has their disability cured throughout the course of the story. Sometimes this is literally, as in the disability is completely and entirely cured with no strings attached. Other times, it looks like giving an amputee character a prosthetic so advanced that it's basically the same as "the real thing" and that they never take off or have any issue with, or giving the character with a spinal injury an implant that bypasses the physical spine's break, or connects to an exoskeleton that allows them to walk again. Sometimes, it can even look like giving a character some kind of magic item or power that negates the effects of the disability, like what I talked about in my post about "the super-crip" trope. Either way though, the effect is the same: The disability is functionally cured and is no longer an "issue" the author or character has to worry about.

But why would this be a bad thing? In a world with magic or super-advanced tech, if you can cure a character's disability, why wouldn't you?

[ID: a screenshot of Roy mustang from Full metal alchemist Brotherhood, a white man with short black hair in a hospital gown. In the corner of the screen is the hand of another person holding a small red gemstone. /End ID]

Well there's a few reasons. First, lets talk about the purely writing related ones. If you've been around the writing or even media critique communities for a bit, you've likely heard people voicing their frustrations with tropes like "The fake-out death" where a character is either implied to have died, but comes back later, or is explicitly shown to be dead and then resurrected. Often when this happens in media, it leaves the audience feeling cheated and like a character's actions and choices don't really matter if even the worst mistakes and consequences can be undone. In the case of the latter situation, where they die and are brought back, it can make the stakes of the whole story feel a lot lower, since even something like death is shown to be reversible, so the audience doesn't really have to worry about anything bad happening to their favourite character, and once you've used this trope one time, people will constantly wonder why you wouldn't use it every time it comes up.

The same is true for "fixing" a character's disability. It sets a precedent that even things as big and life-changing as disability aren't permanent in this setting. We don't have to worry about anything major happening to the characters, there's no risks associated with their actions if it can all be undone, and it will lower the stakes of the story for your audience. Personally, I also feel like it's often used as a cop-out. Like writers wanted to include a major injury the leads to something big like disability for shock value, but weren't sure how to actually deal with it afterwards, so they just made it go away. Even in cases where the character start the story with a disability and are cured, this can still cause issues with your story's stakes, because again, once we've seen you do it once, we know its possible, so we won't feel the need to worry about anything being permanent.

Ok, so that's the purely writing related reasons, but what if that situation doesn't apply to the story you're writing? What if they're "fixed" right at the end, or the way they're cured is really rare, so it can't be used multiple times?

I'm glad you asked, because no, this is far from the only reason to avoid the trope! In my opinion, the more important reason to avoid it is because of how the a lot of the disabled community feels about the miracle cure trope, and the ideas about disability it can perpetuate if you're not very, very careful.

You might have noticed that throughout this post, I've put words like "cured" and "fixed" in quotes, and that's because not every disabled person wants a cure or feels like their ideal to strive for is able-bodied and neurotypical. For many of us, we have come to see our disabilities as part of us, as part of our identities and our sense of self, the same way I, as a queer person might see my queerness as a part of my identity. This is an especially common view among people who were born with their disability or who had them from a young age, since this is all they've ever really known, or who's disability impacts the way they think, perceive and process the world around them, how they communicate with people or in communities who have a long history of forced conformity and erasure such as the autism and deaf communities. Many disabilities have such massive impacts on our lives that we literally wouldn't be who we are today if they were taken away. So often though, when non-disabled people write disabled characters, they assume we'd all take a "cure" in a heart-beat. They assumed we all desire to be just like them again, and this simply isn't the case. Some people absolutely would, and there's nothing wrong with that, but it's not as universal as media representation makes it out to be.

Another reason it's so heavily disliked is because this trope is often used in conjunction with other ableist and harmful tropes or it's used in ways that perpetuate misinformation about living with a disability and it can have ableist implications, even if that's not what the author necessarily intended.

If the miracle cure is used right at the end of the story for example, as a way to give characters a happy ending it can imply that the only way for a disabled character to be happy in the long run, is for them to be "fixed", especially if they were miserable all the way up until that point. If it's used earlier in the story as a way to get said character back into the action, it can also be read as the author thinking that disabled people can't be of use to the plot, and so the only way to keep them around is to "fix" them.

Of course, there's also the fact that some authors and writers will also play up how bad being disabled is in order to show why a cure is justified, playing into the "sad disabled person" trope in the process, which is pretty much what it says on the tin. Don't get me wrong, this isn't to say that being disabled is all easy-breezy, there are never any hard days and you should never show your character struggling, not at all, the "sad disabled person" trope has it's place (even if I personally am not a fan on it), but when both the "sad disabled person" trope and the miracle cure trope are used together, it's not a great look.

This is especially bad when the very thing that cures the disability, or perhaps the quest the heroes need to go on to get it, is shown to be harmful to others or the disabled person themselves. Portraying living with a disability as something so bad that it justifies hurting others, putting others at risk, loosing yourself or killing yourself in order to achieve this cure perpetuates the already harmful idea that disability is a fate worse than death, and anything is justified to avoid it.

I've also noticed the reasons the authors and writers give for wanting to cure their characters are very frequently based on stereotypes, a lack of research in to the actual limits of a person's disability and a lack of understanding. One story I recall reading years ago made sure to tell you how miserable it's main character, a former cyclist, was because he'd been in a car accident where he'd lost his arm, and now couldn't ride bikes anymore, seemingly unaware of the fact arm amputees can, in fact, ride bikes. There are several whole sports centred around it, and even entire companies dedicated to making prosthetic hands specifically for riding bikes. but no, the only way for this to resolve and for him to be happy was to give him his arm back as a magical Christmas miracle! It would be one thing if the story had acknowledged that he'd tried cycling again but just had difficulties with it, or something was stopping him from being able to do it like not being able to wear the required prosthetic or something, but it really did seem as though the author was entirely unaware it was even possible, which is an issue when it's the whole point of your story existing. This happens a lot more often than you'd think, and it's very clear when an author hasn't even bothered to google search if their character would be able to do something before deciding the only solution is to take the disability away.

There's also the frustration that comes from being part of an underrepresented minority, finally seeing a character like you on screen or in a book, only for that representation to be taken away. Disabled people make up roughly 16% of the population (though many estimate these numbers are actually much higher), but only about 2.8% of American TV shows and 4.1% of Australian TV shows feature explicitly disabled characters. In 2019, around 2.3% of films featured disabled characters in a speaking roll, and while it's slowly getting better as time goes on, progress on that front is very slow, which is why its so frustrating when we do see characters like ourselves and so much of their stories focus on wishing to be, trying to become or actually being "cured".

An finally, there's the fact this is just a really common trope. Even if we ignore the issues it can cause with your story's tone and stakes, the harm it can do to the community when not handled with care, the negative perceptions it can perpetuate and everything else. It's just a plain-old overdone trope. It shows up so often that I, and a lot of disabled people, are just getting tired of seeing it. Despite everything I've said, there are valid reasons for people to not want to be disabled, and just like how I made sure to emphasise that not everyone wants a cure, it's important to recognise that not everyone would refuse it either. So long as it's not done in a way that implies it's universal, in theory, depicting someone who would want and accept a cure is totally fine. The issue is though that this trope is so common and so overdone that it's starting to feel like it's all we ever see, especially in genres like sci-fi and fantasy (and also Christmas movies for some reason).

[ID: A Gif of a white man in a top hat nodding his head with the caption "Merry Christmas" down the bottom. /end ID]

Personally, because it's so common, I find even the few examples of the trope used well frustrating, and I honestly feel that it's at the point where it should be avoided entirely where possible.

Ok but Cy, you mentioned there are ways to use this trope well, what are they?

So, like I said, I'm of the opinion that this trope is better off not being in your work at all, but if, for whatever reason, you can't avoid it, or it's use is really that important to the story you want to tell, there are less harmful ways to implement it.

Don't have your only disabled character take the cure

If you really must cure your disabled character's disability, don't make them the only disabled person in the story. Show us another character who, when offered the same cure, chooses not to take it. This at least helps push back a little against the assumption of "of course everyone would want this" that these kinds of stories often imply and doesn't contribute (as much) to disability erasure in the media.

Don't make it a total cure

In real life, there are cures for some disabilities, but they rarely leave no trace. For example, an amputee's limb can sometimes be reattached if it was severed and they received medical treatment fast enough, but it usually results in at least a little nerve damage and difficulties with muscle strength, blood flow or co-ordination in that limb. Often times, these "cures" will fix one issue, but create another. You might not be an amputee anymore, but you're still disabled, just in a different way. You can reflect this in your fictional cures to avoid it feeling like you just wanted to avoid doing the work to write good disabled representation.

Do something interesting with it

I got a comment on my old tumblr or possibly Tik Tok account ages ago talking about their planned use for the miracle cure trope, where their character accepts the cure at the cost of the things that made her life enjoyable post-disability. Prior to accepting the cure, she had found other ways to be independent to some extent and her community and friends helped her bridge the gaps, but they were all taken from her when she was "cured" forcing her into isolation. Kind of like a "be careful what you wish for" sort of thing. The story was meant to be a critique on how society ignores alternative ways of getting the same result and how conforming to other people's ideas of "normal" isn't always what you need to bring you happiness. This was a genuinely interesting way to use the trope I think, and it's a perfect example of taking this trope and twisting it to make an interesting point. If you must use a trope like this, at least use it to say something other than "disability makes me sad so I don't want to think about it too much". Alternatively, on a less serious note, I'm also not entirely opposed to the miracle cure being used for comedy if it fits the tone. The Orville has some issues with it's use of the Miracle Cure trope, but I'd be lying if I said Isaac amputating Gordan's leg as a prank, knowing it could be reversed in a few hours did get a chuckle out of me.

If your villain's motivation is finding a cure for themselves, don't use it as justification for hurting people

Disabled villains need a post all their own honestly, but when a villain's motivation for doing all the terrible things they do is so they don't have to be disabled anymore, it's especially frustrating. Doubly so if the writer's are implying that they're justified in their actions, or at least that their actions are understandable because "who would want to live like that?" Honestly, as a general rule of thumb, avoid making your villains disabled if you aren't disabled yourself (especially if they're your only disabled character), but if they are disabled, don't use the disability as a justification for them hurting people while finding a cure.

So are there any examples currently out there to look at where the trope is used, if not well, at least tolerably?

Yeah, I'd say so, but they're few and far between. Two examples come to mind for me though.

The Dragon Prince:

[ID: A Gif of Ava the Wolf from the Dragon Prince, a light brown, fluffy wolf who is missing her front right leg. /End ID]

The Dragon Prince on Netflix uses the miracle cure twice, but I still really enjoyed the show (at least I did, up until my Netflix subscription ran out, so I've only seen up to season 4). The first time the trope is used in the series, it's actually a fake-out. Two of the main characters, while looking for someone to help them heal the dragon egg they're carrying, encounter a young girl named Ellis and her pet wolf Ava. The two explain their egg is not looking good and they need to find someone to help it, but no one they've found had the knowledge or ability to do anything to help. Ellis says she knows a healer who can help them, and tells them that this healer even restored Ava's amputated leg when she was a pup. When we actually reach this "miracle healer" however, she is revealed to be simply an illusionist. She explains that Ava is still missing her leg, she simply made it look as though she had restored it because Ellis's parents were planning to throw the puppy out, believing it would not survive with its disability and would only be a drain on supplies. This was not actually true and Ava adapted to her amputation very well, she simply needed more time, and hiding her disability and making her appear abled gave her the time she needed to fully recover and adjust. When they return to the healer with the main characters, she removes the illusion and explains why she did it, emphasising that the real problem was never with Ava, but with how people made assumptions about her.

While I do feel it was drawn out a bit too long, I do appreciate the use of the trope as the set up to an overall positive twist. Disability does come with down-sides, it's part of the deal and it would have been nice to see a bit more of that, but for disabilities like amputation in particular, the worst of our problems often come from a lack of adequate support and people's pre-conceived ideas about us, and it was nice to see this reflected, even if it is a little overly simplified.

The second time this trope comes up in the series is when one of the antagonists, Soren, is injured during a fight with a dragon, becoming paralysed from the neck down. His sister, Claudia is absolutely beside herself, believing it was her fault this even happened in the first place, but Soren actually takes his new disability very, very well, explaining that he understands there are things he can't do now, but that there's a lot of things he can still try, that his previous job as a soldier just didn't allow time for. It's possible this reaction was him being in denial but it came across to me as genuine acceptance. He is adamant that he doesn't want a cure right from the beginning because he knows that a cure would come at a cost that he doesn't want his sister to pay, and that he is content and happy with this new direction his life will be going in. Claudia, however, is not content. It had been shown that she was already using dark magic, but this event is what starts her down the path of using it in earnest, disregarding the harm it will cause to those around her. She ignores Soren's wishes, kills several animals in order to fuel the healing spell that will "fix" him, and Soren is pretty clearly shown to be horrified by her actions. What I like about this use of the miracle cure trope is that it touches on something I've seen happen a lot to disabled people in real-life, but that rarely shows up in media - the fact that just because we accept ourselves, our disabilities and our new limits, doesn't mean our friends and family will, unfortunately. In my own life, my mum and dad were always accepting of my disability when I was younger, but as I got older and my support needs changed, my body took longer to heal and I stopped being able to do a lot of things I could when I was little, they had a very hard time coming to terms with it and accepting it. I'm not alone in this either, a lot of disabled people end up cutting contact with friends and family members who refuse to accept the reality of our situations and insist "if we just try harder maybe we won't be so disabled" or "Maybe you will get better if you just do [xyz]". Unfortunately however, some disable people's wishes are ignored completely, like Soren's were. You see this a lot in autistic children who's parents are so desperate to find a cure that they hurt their kids through toxic and dangerous "treatments" or by putting them through abusive therapies that do more harm than good. Claudia has good intentions, but her complete disregard for Soren's decision still harm them both in the long run, leading to the deterioration of their relationship and causing her to spiral down a very dark path.

Full Metal Alchemist: Brotherhood

[ID: A Gif of Ed from full metal alchemist, a white boy with blond hair, staring angrily at a jar of milk on the table. His brother Al, a sentiant suit of armour, is in the background looking directly at the camera. The caption, spoken by Ed, says "So we meet again you little bastard" /end ID.]

The show does begin with Ed and Al looking for a way to cure their disabilities (which they gave themselves when trying to resurrect their mother as children went horribly wrong). However, when the boys discover that the object needed to do that - a philosopher's stone, can only by made through absolutely abhorrent and despicable means, and using one, likewise, comes at the cost of potentially hundreds or thousands of people's souls, they immediately stop, and shift their focus on finding the stones that had already been made so it can't fall into the wrong hands, and preventing the creation of new ones. The core theme of the show is that everything has a cost, and sometimes the cost is simply too great.

However, right at the end of the show, several characters are healed in a variety of ways. Ed gives up his ability to do alchemy to get his brother's body back, as well as his arm so he can save his friends in the final battle, but neither of the boys come away from this completely "healed". Al's body has not been used since he was a child, and so it is shown he has experienced severe muscular atrophy that will take a long time and a lot of work to recover from, acknowledging that he has a pretty tough road ahead of him. When we see him in the epilogue, he is still on crutches despite this being several months after getting his body back. Likewise Ed is not fully healed, and is still missing one of his legs even if he got his arm back.

The more... interesting use of the trope, however, is in the form of Colonel Mustang who was blinded in the final season. Mustang is shown to take to his blindness pretty well given the circumstances, finding a variety of ways to continue doing his job and reaching his goals. When other characters offer to let him use the philosopher's stone to heal himself however, he takes it, acknowledging that this is a horrible thing to do and that Ed and Al would be extremely disappointed in him if they ever found out. He uses it both to cure his own disability, and to cure another character who was injured earlier in the show. While I'll admit, I did not like this ending, I can at least appreciate that the show made sure to emphasis that a) Mustang was doing fine without the cure, and b) that this was not morally justified. The show spent a very long time drilling into the viewer how morally reprehensible using the stone was, and it didn't try to make an exception for Mustang - you weren't supposed to like that he did that.

When I talk about these tropes, I do try to give them a fair chance and discuss the ways it can potentially work, but I really do want to reiterate that this particular trope really is best avoided. There are ways to make it work, but they will still leave a bad taste in many of your viewer's or reader's mouths and you have to be exceptionally careful with your wording and framing, not just in the scenes where this trope is used, but in the lead up. If you really must use it, I highly recommend getting a few disability sensitivity readers and/or consultants (yes, even if you are disabled yourself) to help you avoid some of the often overlooked pitfalls.

#writing disability With Cy Cyborg #very long post #I could have sworn I talked about this trope already but I couldn't find the post. Apparently I had a lot more to say anyway lol #long post #disability #Disabled #Disability representation #Physical Disability #disability Tropes #Writing #Writeblr #Authors #Disabled Rep #Writing Advice #writing Tips #Disabled Characters #writing disability

[cupid-styles]

cupid-styles fic recs!!!

I read a lot of harry fic.....like a lot.......so here are some of my favorites on wattpad and tumblr!! enjoy ! :)

wattpad

breaking the ice by sarbearfive: long form fic, hockey player fmc x hockey player harry

boston by witchysunflower: long form fic, SMUTTY (like check content warnings before you read bc the kinks explored aren't for everyone), cheating teacher fmc x cheating hockey player harry, angsty with a happy-ish ending

boys don't cry, posted by cuddlingzjm: was originally posted on tumblr but this user uploaded it to wattpad when the author (oxygenstyles) deleted. long form fic, lots of back and forth and angst with a happy ending, university au

love, sex, dreams by tempress_: short story, stripper fmc x rich harry, smutty!!

pierced by tpwkmila: long form fic, SMUTTY!!!, piercer/gang harry x innocent fmc. for some reason I can't hyperlink, so here's the link: https://www.wattpad.com/story/255321426-𝐏𝐈𝐄𝐑𝐂𝐄𝐃-𝐇-𝐒.

devil's due by petit_cerise: long form fic, broke my heart a million times and put it back together just as many times. gang harry x artist fmc, super angsty with a kind of happy ending. (there's a sequel currently being written with really slow updates)

earned it by alisonfelix: long form fic; if you haven't read her work yet........ you need to. escort/sex worker fmc, make sure to look at content warnings before reading!! contains A LOT of cheating, smut, and angst, but such an original plot (and a happy ending!).

informed consent by alisonfelix: short fic; university au, innocent/shy fmc x experienced harry who is kind of mean at the start. (read her extras for informed consent here!)

one night stand by alisonfelix: short fic; I told you, everything she writes is INCREDIBLE. pregnant fmc x (sort of) mean harry, some angst and a lot of back and forth, smut, but a happy ending :)

daydreams by temptress_: one-shots with some of THE best smut I've ever read. I know they have an account on here and posts some of their writing to tumblr, but I believe they have more on wattpad!!

ecstasy, misery by kenneedyxx: long form fic, work in progress. I don't usually recommend WIPs but WHEN I TELL YOU THIS BOOK IS AMAZING..... SUPER smutty, set in the 90s, so much fun. updates are slow tho!

tumblr

thinkin' bout you (pt 1) and pink + white (pt 2) by @angelisverba (florist!h, super cute, lots of pining)

love on tour: the groupie by @meetmymouth (smut!!!! groupie!yn x famous!harry, a series of blurbs and I love them)

love's an ache in the jaw by @harryforvogue (TA!h x TA!fmc, I would die for them)

this relationship of ours by @harryforvogue (dom!h x sub!fmc, second chance romance type of deal — again, I would die for them)

serendipity by @adorebeaa (such a cute plot, smut and some fluff!)

wake up call by @harryistheonlyoneforme (smut, nhl!harry x wife reader... what can I say, I love hockey au harry)

the devil is a gentleman by @1800titz (smut, if you're not reading this you're probably living under a rock, SUCH a good plot)

professor harry by @novelistrry (smut and fluff, professor!h x student!yn, short form fic)

literally anything on @freedomfireflies masterlist

tangointhenight by @teaspoon-full-of-sugar (on going short fic, erotic audio recorder (??)! harry, smut!)

anything on @haaarry masterlist

obviously anything on @moonchildstyles masterlist

pleasing by @stylesloveclub (chef!harry x waitress!yn, smut and fluff)

sunshine by @stylesloveclub (grumpy!harry x shy virgin!yn, a classic trope for the girlies, lil bit of smut and fluff)

anything on @jarofstyles masterlist, but some of my favorites include: -reaper (gang/biker!h x innocent-ish!yn) -sk8er boi (high school au, skater!harry x popular!yn) -level up (nerd!harry x popular!yn, high school au)

anything on @jawllines masterlist, but some of my favorites include: -mechanic!harry -boxer!harry -witch!harry x witch!yn -bookstore owner!yn x tattoo shop owner!harry -dom!harry x sub!yn -pornstars!harry and yn

mutually beneficial by @cherryjuiceblues (ceo!harry, dom x sub dynamics, smut obv)

I'll probably add more to this as time goes on but that's all I can think of atm and I need to go make dinner!!!! enjoy!! :D thanks to all of the incredible writers in the harry fic community for sharing your talents <3

#fic rec #harry styles fic recs #harry styles fic rec #harry styles #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic #harry styles fan fic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles blurb #harry styles imagine #harry styles smut

[happeehippie]

instagram j.b.

summary: follow along with joe and his girlfriend evie as they go through his football career.

*face claim is Yasmin Quintana*

part one. part two. part three.

breezyevie

liked by joeyb_9, lahjay10_, bengals and 34,034 others

breezyevie: shout out to the sweet lady who sent us these cookies to start the new season! we are so excited to have j with us this year! #uno

view all 1,238 comments…

user: let’s go UNO

joeyb_9: put some respect on him

> breezyevie: they’re about to find out.

user: chosen 1

user: uno finna go crazy!

> breezyevie: i see no lies.

lahjay10_: let’s work

> breezyevie: work work work work work work

user: why is no one talking about the cookies?

> breezyevie: they were so good.

user: get ready to be destroyed this season.

joeyb_9

liked by breezyevie, bengals, and 117,505 others

joey_9: “If you die without any scars then you never did anything worth fighting for.”

view all 2,009 comments…

user: marry me

> breezyevie: @joeyb_9 me first. 🥺

user: tiger king

breezyevie: it’s joe time baby!

user: ain’t that the truth

user: this your year joey b!

lahjay10_: no pain no gain

> breezyevie: wise words yoda

breezyevie

liked by joeyb_9, taylorswift, bengals and 43,298 others

breezyevie: in honor of the new season starting this sundey! it’s who dey forever.

view all 1,727 comments…

user: this our queen!

user: drop the link

> breezyevie: on my story!

user: long hair joe need to make a comeback pending your approval

> breezyevie: i approve!

user: ev over everyone!

user: time for joe to get injured

> breezyevie: time for you to be a decent human being.

joeyb_9: you’re the best

> breezyevie: my heart. 🤍

breezyevie

liked by joeyb_9, bengals, taylorswift and 289,528 others

breezyevie: Let’s do this shit. #whodey

view all 2,783 comments…

user: i feel like your personality is too dominant for clean boy joe

> breezyevie: i feel like you don’t know us

user: i am so excited for game day content! i love you!

> breezyevie: it’s coming!!

user: sis donate the jacket!

> breezyevie: but.. i love it.

user: sorry sis he’s cheating on you

> breezyevie: in your dreams?

> millyg: can’t you be more original? it’s always the cheating trope.

user: that’s her MAN!

> breezyevie: FOR LIFE

user: delete this, lmao.

> breezyevie: awe, this bothers you huh?

user: can you fight?

> breezyevie: i’m prepared. 💪🏼

user: i’m confused.. are you his gf? your page looks like a fan page.

> breezyevie: people can’t fan girl their own boyfriends? yikes, this is embarrassing for me.

joeyb_9

liked by breezyevie, bengals, lahjay10_ and 413,108 others

joeyb_9: Andddddddddd I’m back

view all 3,909 comments

lahjay10_: back like you never left

> breezyevie: cant wait to watch y’all run it back

user: in joe we trust

> breezyevie: always and forever.

user: you’re girlfriend is so average, you could do better.

> breezyevie: ouch. my fragile ego. 💔

user: ur the mvp

user: i love how ev is always in joes comments replying to everyone. she’s my favorite person ever.

> breezyevie: stop it, you’re my favorite person ever!

user: overrated af

> breezyevie: i think you mean hot af. because dayum. 🥵

user: THE JOE SHOW

breezyevie: the goat reporting for duty?

> joeyb_9: dork 🤣

bengals: He’s back!

BONUS:

liked by millyg, lahjay10_, joeyb_9 and 780,826 others

breezyevie: i love you.. and that’s the beginning and end of everything.

view all 7,283 comments…

user: omg! i just seen joes post!

user: i’m so happy i could cry!

millyg: my best friend.. you deserve this love.

user: not joe posting you for this after not posting you for like 4 years

joeyb_9: life with you is my favorite.

> breezyevie: please never change.

user: get that ring!

joeyb_9

liked by breezyevie, millyg, sam_hubbard_ and 871,038 others

joeyb_9: vibes are pretty.

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user: joe please i can’t handle this i have exams to study for

user: there is no fucking way he just dropped this bomb

user: the most basic caption ever

> user: yall cant ever just be satisfied. obviously its not a problem for them, let them enjoy this.

user: respectfully, this ruined my day.

user: I AM SO EXCITED

user: ev finally becoming that NFL wifey!

breezyevie: i will be smiling and giggling uncontrollably for the foreseeable future. i love you jb. 4ever.

#bengals #cincinnati bengals #joe burrow #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow insta au #joe burrow instagram #joe burrow x reader #nfl #nfl imagine

[sickbromeo]

reasons vol. 2 makes me really believe the duffers are just bad at writing characters

mike wheeler. now they have mike be super caring about will in s1 & s2 only in s3 to have be suddenly be kind of a dick. this would have made a lot of sense if mike was meant to be written as queer. but obviously he wasn’t. he was just a dick for zero reason at all. also fuck them for making mike say that he doesn’t think his life really started till he meet el. that’s so fucking stupid.

will byers- here’s the thing with will, they seem to not know what to do with him if he’s not being affected by the upside down. they just seem to make him sad but he loves his friends so he’s gonna support them! they don’t know wtf he would be like if he’s not sad and suffering so they just make him sad and suffer.

eddie munson- eddie was great character this season. like he fit right into the groups dynamic and him steve robin and nancy were a super fun group. but the duffers refuse to touch the main cast even if it would make sense for those characters to die. how did him dying help? how was that in anyway a good way to end his story? what they killed hik just because they couldn’t think of a way to clear his name? honestly wouldn’t be surprised!

steve harrington- they jsut don’t know wtf to do with steve if he doesn’t have a love interest. i thought part of steve’s develop would be realizing that he don’t need romantic love in his life all the time. that he can still be loved by his friends but no. once again the you need a love interest to be happy trope!

them making lucas, the one black person in the party, join basketball even if he’s showed zero interest in it before

them having robin’s, the one explicitly queer character, love interest be a side character that we get to know basically nothing about

nancy staring at steve and having multiple scenes where it looks like they might kiss and have her cheat on jonathan even though s3 made it seem like nancy and steve didn’t have feelings for each other anymore

#stranger things s4 #byler tumblr #byler #will byers #will byers is gay #mike wheeler #mike wheeler is gay #robin buckley #ronance #nancy wheeler #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steveddie #jane hopper #eleven hopper #jonathan byers #mike wheeler is bi #steddie #lucas sinclair #stranger things spoilers

[campbell-rose]

Hazbin Trailer + Rewrite Spitballing

The Hazbin Trailer omg

I finally watched it and like... it's so bad guys. Honestly, the only people I pity are the animators and the pilot voice actors, and the new actors too. Blake Roman especially, the man is super talented, but trying to fill the massive shoes of Michael is weighing his performance down so bad. Honestly, if Viv wasn't a petty brat, she could've kept Michael and gotten Blake as the singing voice.

Apparently there's a war on Heaven plot? I hope to god not, like that's NOT THE PREMISE. God Viv just cannot stick to her premises, can she? This happened with Zoophobia, initially it seemed like it was going to follow Cameron but slowly lost focus on her. Then Helluva Boss losing the hired assassin plot for the sake of shitty Stolitz drama. Seems redeeming sinners is going to be a side plot which is unfortunate because that was one of the biggest things i wanted from this show. I remember when i used to love Vivziepop and i got so excited for the pilot of Hazbin. Redeeming sinneers, that sounded so cool. It's what got me into demonology and was a big part of my life. Sad to see this happen.

I genuinely hate the stupid trope of heaven, the place that is literally paradise for good people, being bad. Like, i cannot feasibly imagine a universe in which Viv manages to write that in any compelling way. And why is it just ‘heaven bad’??? This could be an interesting story that discusses the nature of good and bad, talks about what makes someone a good person, should people be given redemption if they already blew their chance, is the definition of 'good' wrong? Like, in the hands of competent writers, Hazbin could be an interesting story, like a Walmart Good Place! But no, heaven bad, let's go kill angels that say fuck.

Like, as an example of my above point, let’s look at a familiar face from Helluva Boss, Mrs. Mayberry. 

She killed someone, tried to kill someone, then herself, and is now in hell. But a good question could be raised of if her being in hell is even justified. Yes, she killed a person (and attempted to kill another) which is not a good thing to do. But she killed her husband in a fit of rage after seeing him cheating on her – like actively, red handed, balls deep cheating on her. From what we see of her before her death, she seems like an attentive and caring teacher and wife, she even says herself she was ‘good my entire life’. Her students love her, and literally the reason she kills herself seems to be because she realizes that they saw her literally murder someone. She did choke and throw a child, but that was played for comedy so I'm not counting that against her. She kills herself because she’s so shocked about what she’s done. She’s bitter because she’s in hell.  

Her husband was a cheater and the woman she tried to kill was a murderer and a cannibal, so by that logic, doesn’t her killing a bad person negate the killing? Yes, murder is bad, she should’ve controlled herself, but this was one terrible moment in a lifetime of being good. Like, say someone kills a pedobear, is the person commiting the murder a bad person for killing someone who deserved it? Not that her husband deserved to die for cheating, a good beat down maybe. If a good person kills a bad person, does that make them a bad person too? Or does it come down to intention? Did the good only kill the bad for a selfish reason?

That’s an interesting conundrum (in my opinion). Does she deserve to redeem herself? How would she redeem herself? If I keep thinking on it, i'll ramble, but that's my thinking. Anyway, this made me think about a rewrite that follows this line of thinking.

I’ve come to the conclusion that Charlie being an angel and Vaggie being her Exterminator guard who goes with her to hell to redeem sinners is the best way to make this mess an interesting thing. Like, Charlie is an optimistic angel who thinks the extermination of sinners is inhumane and that the standards of Heaven need changed. Vaggie is literally trained to kill sinners and sees Charlie’s efforts as futile but is assigned to help her anyway. Makes sense why everyone would disrespect Charlie and treat her like an idiot for wanting to redeem sinners, instead of insulting the daughter of FUCKING LUCIFER HIMSELF, they’re laughing at an angel who came down out of nowhere and is acting high and mighty.

Also, Charlie can keep the name Charlie Magne instead of Morningstar because she's no longer Lucifer's daughter. Vaggie is just V. boom, problem solved, i'm a genius.

Have a doodle

#anti vivziepop #vivziepop critical #hazbin hotel criticism #hazbin hotel critical #hazbin hotel redesign #sorry for the ramble #i just like exploring actual interesting things in writing

[red-write-hand]

“Get back down here, we’re not done yet.”

pairing -> dom!thomas shelby x f!oc

trope -> smut (hard smut, have fun y'all)

warning -> orgasm denial, fingering, overstimulation?, praise (uses of "good girl", "Mr. Shelby", "Sir"), tommy being a little mean

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Laying in a Shelby boy’s bed wasn’t as bad as she thought it was going to be. As the technical wife of a Shelby boy, this is where she liked to be best. She enjoyed the love she got here. She enjoyed loving her husband in his big plush white bed with his thick soft white comforter and the Egyptian sheets she had told him not to buy but after a very long, slow, tender distraction, he had bought them. Just made the whole experience better. She sat up on her thighs and smiled at him. He ran a hand through her hair and pulled her in close. She instinctively braced her knees on the outside of his hips, effectively straddling him. He hummed into the kiss, one of his hands coming around the small of her back, pushing her closer. They were now flush against each other. The blonde front part of her hair fell while his hand was still holding the dark brown curls. He always held her hair while she made him feel good, he adored when she came up after taking it so well, she would always give him those eyes that said ‘I love you more than you’ll ever know’. She moaned softly into the kiss as her hips slowly started to move against his. He chuckled very lowly as he let go of her hair to be able to hold her hips to make sure she wasn’t moving too fast. He kissed down his neck, nipping at certain places to elicit those pretty noises that he got a high from. She tilted her head back to expose her neck more and to make it easier for him. She had her hand on his back, her nails scratching, knowing that it made him feel good. She knew that when they woke the next morning, she would be able to feel the lines she had created. She smiled as another sweet sound escaped from her. He had one hand on the lowest point of her back, slowly, teasingly moving it down. His free hand came up to slowly grope her chest. Her moans were broken and appreciative. 

“Oh f-fuck…you’re cheating…” Her usually aggressive Irish accent that could make kings and powerful men and women alike cower at her feet was now broken and soft. It was loving and compliant. It was the voice that she had grown to have around him. The opposite to his, deep, tender, with that perfect edge of dominance to it. The voice that wrapped her up in his arms and told her to be a good girl. The voice that kissed down her torso and had its finger inside her. The voice that had married her on a whim and made sure she knew that he truly loved her. The voice that pulled her into his lap when he was tired and needed physical touch. The voice that connected with those eyes. Oh those eyes. Those eyes that didn’t look like they could hurt a soul even though they had seen so many die by his hand. Those eyes that could still look innocent even after loving her so roughly and ruthlessly that she couldn’t stand the next day. Those eyes that could make her drop to her knees no matter where she was or who she was with. Between his voice and his eyes, she knew that he was hers, and she was his.

“Yeah, but you’re the one who likes it.” His voice was perfect. She adored everything about it. Everything about every inflection that came with the Birmingham accent. That gritty edge to it. She laughed slightly. He let go of her hips and she started to get up, under the assumption that they were done for the night. 

“Get back down here, we’re not done yet.” He flipped her so she was under him. He bit slightly harder on her neck. She groaned softly. 

“Maybe warn a girl next time…could’a given me a heart attack.” He hummed and kissed her gently. She had just registered that his knee was gently brushing against her panties. She squeezed her eyes shut to see if she could block him out. He laughed. She could feel his kisses going lower. She could feel his breath on her stomach. She tried to squirm to create more friction but his hands that had she adored so much, those hands that had held her comfortingly on their wedding day, those hands that had cut men’s throats open, held her fast against the bed. She whined and pleaded for him to do something, anything, but no. He chided lovingly.

“Oh no, only good girl’s who don’t stay up, waiting for me to get my work done. Now maybe if you’re good for me and take your punishment, then I might consider fucking you so hard that you’ll have to skip work and then you’ll have to spend the day with me instead.” She thought this over in her mind. Go to work and effectively melt her brain away or stay with her gorgeous husband and have nice, tender, love-filled morning sex? How had he given her such an easy choice? 

“I’ll be good. I promise.” Of course she was lying through her teeth, but everyone trusts a pretty face like her, anyone who didn’t have some sort of common sense. Not that Tommy didn’t have common sense, he had much more than an average person in Birmingham. He just sometimes thought with his heart. She could feel his breath on her thighs. Right at the apex of her thighs. She let out a soft moan as she felt his hot breath. His hands snaked around the back of her thighs and held them firmly, but not too hard, just to make sure she didn’t snap her legs shut when she got flustered. She could feel him trying to decide something.

“Will you get on with it? Here I thought you were going to be this amazing husband who makes his wife feel good–” She felt her hands get slammed into the bed. He had a strong grip on her crossed wrists. His voice came out through his trademark smirk. The smirk that had brought down duchesses and queens, princesses and wives. The smirk that could make anyone do anything. The smirk that every Shelby had. That was, frankly, one of the reasons that she loved him. Between his smirk and his eyes, she had fallen hard. She whimpered and struggled against his grip but then a searing kiss was placed on her soft lips. A searing kiss that branded her with a teasing love. The type of love that was mean but in a caring way. The type of love that slapped you in the face and kissed away your tears. The type of love that made fun of you and put you on a pedestal. It was all of that wrapped up in cornflower blue eyes. Those eyes could kill anyone if they wanted to, even her, she’d gladly die in those eyes. 

“And here I thought you said you were going to be good. Being patient falls under being good, love.” She squirmed when the kiss went away. She wanted another, then another, then another. She wanted every kiss he was able to give her. He chuckled and gently nipped her inner thighs. When she finally registered that a small mark had formed, she moaned. She needed more, finally, he gave her more, she felt his other hand slither out from under her thigh and she knew what was about to happen. She felt her black panties slide off her effortlessly without it even dawning it on her that she had moved. She could hear his voice, but it seemed muffled to her brain.

“Now remember, be a good girl and I’ll give you more than my fingers, beautiful.” She moaned in response. She gasped when two of his fingers entered her. She had spent restless nights fantasizing about his fingers. The fingers that she had seen hold cigarettes gently, fingers that had pulled triggered and killed so many, fingers that had been inside her so many times before this. Her filthy moans filled the bedroom as he pumped his fingers repeatedly. This was her punishment, the punishment that she would enjoy. That was, until her actual punishment arrived. Her face was flushed and her breath was ragged. Her hair was spread out on the pillow below her, it was a huge curly mess, it was big and hard to take care of to begin with but now? So close to a release that she desperately needed? It just got worse. It was a frizzy and uncontrollable mess. Before, he was holding it together so at least it looked more together but currently, it was all spread out, a brown puddle of curls on the white pillow. She really had to cut it much shorter, to her jaw was bad enough, next time it would be to her ears. She had been so close to a release, the release she had been waiting for all night, but no. She was so close, so incredibly close. She had even felt the hot pit in her stomach but then— but nothing. Tommy had pulled his fingers out and sighed. He gave her a look that said it all, ‘That was your real punishment, darling.’

“You look so pretty when you’re about to get that sweet release. The thing is, it wouldn't be much of a punishment if I just let you feel that ecstasy, would it?” She didn’t answer, she was annoyed but she was also still in the headspace of having his fingers drawing her so close to the edge. She felt his fingers inside her again just for a minute, but this time it was more than two, it was three. She let out a languid sound and fell back against the bed. She wanted it to go on forever, that glorious burn that she craved so much. That burn that came from the most loving of flames. That burn that she would die a fiery death in if she was asked to. That burn that was so perfect that it– but no. It stopped. She had been brought to the edge again but no. No release. No nothing. She groaned in protest but all she got back was his laugh. His laugh that she only heard when she was getting denied something that she had already staked a claim to. The laugh that truly added insult to injury. This time, she hadn’t even noticed she had even made a mistake. He leaned close to her ear. His voice was unsettlingly smooth and deep. Not that it wasn’t normal for his voice to be this deep and smooth, just unsettling that it had chosen to come out at this minute.

“You didn’t answer. Now that just isn’t polite, is it?” She dropped her head against the pillow, her curls cushioning her drop even more. She knew she had to respond, or her punishment would get much worse.

“Yes, Sir.” She added the ‘Sir’ right at the end to see if he would be gracious and let her have that release that she wanted so badly. It was a long shot but she would do anything for that release only he could give her. 

“Oh, you’re calling me Sir? Sounds strange coming out of your mouth. Mr. Shelby just sounds so much coming out of that pretty mouth of yours.” She smiled weakly. It had been a thing with them for a while; calling him Mr. Shelby had been their code that she wanted him, usually very badly, when he was in meetings. She kissed his jaw and he chuckled. She could feel something very hard digging into her thigh and smiled mischievously. She flipped the two of them over and straddled his hips. She ran her newly freed hands down his chest. She nipped at his neck a good couple times, just high enough that he couldn’t cover them with his collar. She felt his hands at her hips, holding her in place. She smirked triumphantly, tonight was going to be, hopefully, a long one. Most nights were long but she had a feeling that tonight was going to be a much longer one. One of those nights where they passionately loved each other until the sun finally rose and both of them got dressed for work, trying to keep their hands off each other. She teasingly kissed him again.

“Alright then, Mr. Shelby.”

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y'all. pls tell me if i forgot anything in the warnings. pls and thank u!

#thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby x oc #thomas shelby x f!oc #top!thomas shelby #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x oc #tommy shelby x f!oc #top!tommy shelby #peaky blinders smut #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders x y/n #tommy shelby #thomas shelby

[moreespressoformydepresso]

Hot take:

Coriolanus Snow did not love Lucy Gray, even though he loved her.

Bear with me for a second I know this sounds like an oxymoron but I promise I can make it make sense. The TL;DR is that both SnowBaird shippers and detractors are right, but also very very wrong. I’ll explain.

People who say Snow was genuinely in love with Lucy Gray are wrong. Flat out incorrect. And I say this so bluntly because of one simple factor: before the games, he needed Lucy Gray to promise total devotion to him. This 16 year old girl was about to be thrown into an arena to fight to the death and his concern was whether she was committed to him?? That’s not love. That’s need. Remember the saying “if you love someone, let them go”? It exists for a reason. If you truly love someone, you want what’s best for them. You want them to be happy, even if that means stepping away. Snow was not ready or willing to do this. If there was even a chance of him having to step away, he was prepared to just leave her to her fate to die. And this happened relatively early in the story when you look at the importance of events. Most of the moments we can point to and go “that’s a turning point for him” happen either during or after the games. Funnily enough this ties to a very simple fact of the story that seems to fly over a lot of fans’ heads, if they’re not just outright ignoring it.

Snow did not lose his mind or go insane over the course of the story. The whole point is that he was always this way, and looked every opportunity to choose to be a good person dead in the eyes as he dashed them to pieces, burned them to ashes and used the charcoal left over to draw happy little doodles on their graves. This story has two points, with the first being a subversion of the “uwu villain with a tragic backstory to excuse their actions” trope. The second one is gleefully stewing in all the ways the people Snow wronged in his early life haunted him until the day he died, especially Sejanus and Lucy Gray. That’s just one example of Snow not actually caring about Lucy Gray, but there are more. They’re sprinkled all throughout the story, culminating in the final scene where he attempts to murder her.

However

Coriolanus Snow did have genuine feelings for Lucy Gray. He was prepared to ruin his entire future to save her, knowing that getting caught cheating would destroy all he’s worked for his entire life. When he was forced to become a peacekeeper, he asked to go to 12 in hopes of seeing her again. He went out of his way to track her down and they shared genuine moments together. By now, he has no ulterior motive for being around her. No prize, no game to win, nothing to gain except happy memories. Snow wanted to be with her. And Lucy Gray wanted to be with him. There’s a skeleton of a genuine relationship there, inklings of the love story Lucy Gray was convinced they were destined to have. That wasn’t fake, those were real feelings and it could have been beautiful. If it wasn’t for one tiny little problem: Lucy Gray is not who Snow thought she was. She isn’t who he wanted her to be. In other words:

Coriolanus Snow thought he loved Lucy Gray Baird, when in actuality he loved the idea of her he’d created in his mind.

You see, this boy is the least reliable narrator to ever narrate in the history of ever, beaten out only by Humbert Humbert. And in similar fashion to Lolita it looks like people are making the mistake of taking his word at face value when the point the book tries to make is that you should not do that. Snow looked at his choice to keep bashing Bobbin over the head after he was already knocked out and decided to take it as evidence that all human beings lose their humanity when cornered (even though he was no longer cornered), he is very clearly not a trustworthy individual when it comes to making logical deductions. Especially because he can be neck-deep in denial sometimes. Snow never cared about Lucy Gray, the Covey girl, singer and performer who lost most of her family to a massacre and was forced to stay in one district rather than moving around like she used to. He cared about Lucy Gray Baird, district 12’s female tribute for the 10th hunger games. And those are not the same people. Tribute Lucy Gray Baird was locked in a zoo, forced to perform at all times to survive. Lucy Gray was free to be her authentic self (trauma not withstanding) and while she loves to perform, it’s a different kind. There’s no pressure, she can leave the stage if she so desires. She can roam as free as one can in the districts and no longer needs a mask to live.

In the book, Snow outright says he wishes she was still locked in the zoo so he knew where she was and she couldn’t leave. He loved the Lucy Gray that was contained. The one that was considered his by the people around him. The girl who relied on him completely because she had to. He loved what she was forced to be in order to not die, and when he saw the real her he wished she would be more like the girl he met. Which was not the real Lucy Gray. Snow loved the act she put on, and to some extent the control he had over her. He had genuine feelings for her, but not for the real her.

To conclude this rambly mess: shippers will pretend Snow genuinely loved Lucy Gray for all she was. This is not true. A certain subsect of people who hate this ship will say he never cared for her at all. This is also not true. And in a fandom for a book about the nuances of even the worst people on earth, that’s very funny.

#the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas #the hunger games #10th hunger games #hunger games #lucy gray baird #lucy gray x coriolanus #coriolanus snow #character analysis #I saw one too many posts warring about whether he did or didn’t love her and decided that the correct response was to piss everyone off #so here we are #analysis #hot take #i guess #idk #love #love is complicated #people are complicated #nuance

[bittergirlsworld]

I finally gave up and saw TVD to understand some stuff in TO, and I just have to say: what an awfully written show. My goodness, how the hell is the most annoying girl in Mystic Falls the anchor who holds them together? Caroline, the fandom darling has no personality whatsoever. She's a camaleon, she's what they need her to be in the episode. Sometimes, she's the greatest soul alive, sometimes she's only there to slutshame another girl for doing exactly what she does. Sometimes she's pinning after her boyfriend, sometimes she backstabs him. Sometimes she's so repulsed by the 1000 year murder who bribes her with fancy things and sometimes she's okay to use the hell out of him to have what she needs. Elena, who's supposed to be the protagonist, becomes more and more the love interest to Damon. His love for her, that both recognize as toxic, comes from a sire bond and everyone insists to pretend that she loves him just the same without it as if she wasn't heavily projecting Stefan on him to the point he calls her out. The Originals, who were supposed to be invicible, the most insane of them just dies for a teenage hunter. Finn, the most sane one, portrait as a bore because he resented the bother who kept him in a coffin for thousands of years. Katherine, who I swear is one of the only two female characters really interesting in this show, is called a bitch all the time for the unforgivable crime of running from a psycho hybrid who wanted to slaughter her and then slaughtered her fucking family. Elijah and Rebekah does not exist outside of Klaus. Rebekah was just extremely annoying till they gave her a real personality and in the spin-off. Out of nowhere, she was obsessed with being human. Bonnie, poor Bonnie. The racism was blatantly showing. She was only there to be the magic negro trope. They didn't even allowed her to have romantic storyline! Her boyfriend who she resurrected cheats on her with a freaking ghost and she still back with him in season 5? She deserved so much better. Damon turns her mother in a vampire and then she's his best friend? She loses her entire family as well and is never treated with the same courtesy Elena has been treated. Not even the fancy balls she could attend, apparently. (Her wigs were also terrible. Poor Kat, they made her appear so old sometimes with those hairs).

And the romantic pairings? Awful. Damon and Elena were downright disgusting. He raped Caroline. Why everyone pretends he wasn't compelling her while having sex with her? Why all these centuries old man are so obsessed with fuck teenagers? How's that's romantic, date a girl on high school when you had two shares of a lifetime? Even if we take in consideration the lore that vampires stop aging when they're turned, the only couple who would make sense in this logic were Stefan and Elena, since Stefan was a teenager when turned. Klaus and Caroline had no romantic connection. She used him dry, he bite her to die to make a point to her boyfriend. He would be her last love but fucked her and left. She hated him but would happily accept his gifts while treating him like a dog. Damon and Elena loudly assume to each other that they are terrible together but then forget because they're fucking again. I swear to god, that relationship was pure based on their sex drive. She wanted that old dick so bad she blamed dead Katherine for the fact he killed her friend and threatened her brother.

The timeline made no sense. Plotholes all around. Why Bonnie couldn't make magic while being the anchor? Must be because she would be too powerful, and with Elena being so useless, they couldn't allow that. Caroline is another one completely useless for the plot. She could disappear from the show and wouldn't change a single thing.

It's really awful. After finally seeing this I can say with conviction that The Originals was the best they could have.

#the originals #the vampire diaries #tvd #tvdu #elena gilbert #damon salvatore #stefan salvatore #caroline forbes #tyler lockwood #klaus mikaelson #katherine pierce #delena #damon x elena #klaus x caroline #klaroline #forwood #anti klaroline #stelena #stefan x elena #bonnie bennett

[shoezuki]

I dunno why but I feel like Gepard can handle liquor. Like Sampo has the gift of bein smart knowin his limits and what to drink and when, so he gives off the vibe of being able to handle a lot but he's not that heavyweight. He's jus big brain conman XD. Get enough in him n he'll go down like the rest.

But Geppie. Man's sippin vodka from the bottle and not even slurrin his words. When he was a trainee the older guards decided to prank him with a glass of absinthe n called it a weak alcohol only for him to get halfway and not even bat an eye, only stopped cuz it tasted like ass. Dude takes the path of preservation seriously. Even his liver is beyond destruction XD.

Which is why I find two situations very freakin funny, which I'd love your opinion on:

1) Sampo starts up a drinking competition with him. It's on one of his guardian mandated holidays, so Gepard doesn't have to be responsible, and Dove 3 in 1 won't leave him alone anyway, so he agrees. Partway thru Sampo realises he's losin but Gep insists on gettin the drinks so he can't even cheat his way to victory. Cue Gep having to drag a very drunk, incredibly flirty Sampo back to Natasha but he keeps running off. Even being drunk doesn't stop him from havin smoke bombs up the wazoo.

2) Sampo manages to cheat, scheme, girlboss his way to victory. He comes out on top but now has the problem of an incredibly drunk, dangerously curious Silvermane Captain who won't stop flooding him with the oddest of questions. "Why are your eyes so green? Is your hair natural? What happened to the rest of your shirt? Do you really enjoy crime or is it jus something you fell into?" Whi- okay that one was oddly specific and he doesn't have the capacity, as tispy as he is, to answer.

He really needs to get him back home, before he asks the wrong person the wrong question, but isn't cognitive enough to face being questioned by Bronya and would sooner die than face Serval. So he opts into takin him to one of his more obvious hideouts which poses 10 million problems in and of itself when he keeps freakin touching everything!

ANON YOURE RIGHT YOURE A FUCKING. GENIUS. I been thinkin bout this A LOT ACTUALLY prob cuz for some reason fandom seems to lean towards gepard bein a horrific lightweight (i mean i know Why the lightweight trope is very much seen as 'cute' and childlike n whatever but i digress). But tbhtbhtbh i agree w u 100% like.

Gepard is a Tank of a Man. Homie can handle anything. Mfer the living embodiment of preservation like dude could be like 'serval this drink sucks' and hes gulping down perfume, unaffected. Dudes prob ate weird shit out on the front lines n questionable rations. The stuff in his fridge is expired n hes jus shrugging and eating it anyways.

I think w sampo its like. He SEEMS like he can handle his liquor. And hes not bad w it. But hes an Actor. Mfer could be plastered and you wouldnt know. Dude could convince a breathalyzer that hes only a Little Tipsy. But theres a threshold for him where he jus Caves at some points. Like u said tho man is Always competent w bombs. Like drunken boxing but w daggers dude could be blown over by a gentle breeze but still kicks ass.

I imagine that gepard doesnt Usually drink in that he jus. Doesnt care much. But absolutely his drink of choice is the hard shit. He jus has whiskey w ice or vodka w tonic water like a freak. Maybe a white russian if hes feelin zesty. When his guards convince him to go to the bar n challenge him to take shots he shrugs n jus packs them back no big deal.

But oh my god like. The 2nd scenario. I imagine it in order like first sampo realizing gepard has an Inhuman tolerance n making it his missiom to get the good ol captain fucked up. N it takes a while but like. Gepard jus gets more... blunt. But in a strange soft questioning way where he asks the things he wonders bout but never says aloud. The kinda soul reads like 'sampo youre a criminal not because you need to be but because you enjoy the thrill and attention right?' N sampo is just like holy fuck. But its like his inhibitions are gone and hes so Curious about everything and everything. He hangs onto sampos every word n it drives sampo crazy

#alcohol mention #sampard #anon im holding you. we r holding hands. #i like gep being a sturdy lad. like. a tank. nothing shakes him. someone tries to poison him but he doesnt notice #getting stabbed is a mild inconvenience ok. all the silvermanes get food poisoning from the cafeteria food one day except him. #except wine fucks him up a lil quicker #who knows why bsbsvdjddh #anon #ANOTHER ALTERNATIVE: gepard is the 'can i have a sip of your water?' 'its not water' 'what' 'its vodka'

[aprito]

hi! do you have any recommendations for sasosaku fic with more than 10k words?

a couple (a lot) of the top of my head (burned into my retina) in no particular order finished and unfinished (they are all important to me)

!!! IF YOU READ ANY OF THESE BE A COOL KID AND LEAVE A REVIEW !!!

hope springs eternal by simplelations (wholesum retelling of p1 naruto but with same age au sos i have made fic art that's how you know the love is real)

incantations by thirrin (extremely underrated howl's moving castle inspired magic au)

the neighbourly thing to do by koneko_taichou (wholesome middle aged sos are neighbours au. especially love the reason ss divorced in this fic and cant wait to see where this goes)

against all odds by koobabear (unfinished but platonic canonverse sos that's very fun)

these days by stormdragon6 (the one and only extremely long and extremely fullfilling mutual pining sos childhood friends modern au. scenes from this fic are burned into my brain)

a second chance by invisibleninja12 (200k literal retelling of p2 naruto with same age au sos where sasori got yeeted into the future and sakura is committed to help him before he makes the final turn for the worse. incredibly wholesome)

deep into the woods by muffin_ride (twisted beauty and the beast meets horror meets sos in their 40s far too old for this bullshit. thats the type of content we love around here)

lost year by omgitspocky (the fic that literally started my obsession with same age au basically sakura goes back in time and not only distracts sasori from defecting but also gets to hang out with a young tsunade)

bait and hitch by aelynthi (after the fantastic previous fic homesick comes one of the funniest takes on the fake dating trope with outrageously good characterization. i am emotionally invested in this one)

acaso mi madre engaña a mi padre? by takewaelel (i recommend this cheating fic at least once every full moon cycle because it has some of my favorite characterisation ever. every reread i discover some other amazing take)

lady of the blackthorns by vesperchan (amazing fantasy sos au. and thats why vesper is the GOAT)

pyrrhic victory by watevermelon (same age au sos with sasori's parents alive is one of the three ships and we're rooting for them)

grading on a curve by sayyikes (100% pure comedy and we're here for this painfully realistic and hilarious modern au)

sword of damocles by angelofdeath10 (medieval sakura is sasori's knight au. sasori is extremely pathetic but that makes it fun. i recommend everything they write in general <3)

spring fever by tsuki hoshino (sakura quits her job with sunan royalty and is ready to settle down and have kids in the middle of sasori's 10 year meticulously planned how do i get her to date me plan. watch as he desperately tries to bring his plans to fruition in the most sasori way possible)

invocation of the muse by nenalata (toxic college au sos that ruined me as a person, it's so fucking good even if i took immense psychic damage after deluding myself sos somehow will make it work. you need to read this immediately. this is exactly how i envision a bad ending outcome)

porcelain by shoujojunkie (not 10k but i will rep this doll maker falls in love with his tiny vain selfish creation fic until the day i die)

#ask noni #fic rec #sasosaku #im sure i have more that i forgot about i will never forgive myself #if you had given me over 2k this would probably be triple in length #do you know how unfair it is to me. as a person. to not be able to recommend a bunch of my faves bc theyre shorter than 10k #im in tears #hope this keeps you busy <3

[likesomekindofcheese]

A Summary of me from November 2021-April 2022

Me: I can't wait for the second season of The Great, especially for Gwilym Lee to play Grigor and all the angst and feels from how much he loves his wife! :)

*cheats*

Me: :(((( Okay, that really hurt. I don't like it when my celebrity crushes play cheaters. Huh, looks like my other celeb crush Tom Hiddleston is gonna be in this thing in The Essex Serpent! Cool! Maybe this time, the guy won't che-

*cheats*

Me: WHO JINXED IT???

#the cheating trope needs to die #the great #the essex serpent #gwilym lee #tom hiddleston

[foxymoxynoona]

To Kill A King (Chapter 14)

Banner and linebreaks by the talented @awrkives

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

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

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

Old habits die hard. Though Dulce had shifted her purpose to finding some way to prove Nasimiyu and her father were planning to overthrow the Kim family –a thing she hadn’t the faintest idea how to accomplish– an opportunity presented itself in her quest for information that was simply too good to pass up. King Dong-gun quit the palace to go on another of those maniacal cave hunting expeditions, and took most of the palace with him, including Nasimiyu and that ice-cold uncle. 

It had almost been funny, that brief moment in which Nasimiyu debated whether to take Dulce. Dulce was back on laundry duty –surprise, surprise– but was carting clean clothes up to the princess’ room. Nasimiyu called for something she could wear on a hunt, then informed Dulce they were going to the caves in the morning, then looked at her in silence for a long moment… before deciding Eula would go. Eula had cried about it all night because she was scared of caves and guns.

Mirta had given Dulce a day’s worth of tasks which she utterly ignored. Was Mirta going to fire her? That would suit her just fine; the only thing keeping her from quitting was needing time to find whatever she could take to Prince Seokjin or King Dong-gun. 

As soon as Nasimiyu left for the hunting trip, Dulce ransacked her room. She put everything back so it wouldn’t be obvious, of course, but she dug through all the spaces she normally didn’t care about –the drawers in the writing desk, the false bottom of her jewelry box, the tiara box in the wardrobe that used to house a secret supply of snacks until Nasimiyu ate through them within days of arriving in Priva. 

Rooting through the wardrobe made Dulce wonder if Nasimiyu would rat her out about killing the spying man at some point. She could. A princess’ word against a maids would result in nothing other than the death penalty for the maid. Nasimiyu could toss in that Dulce had threatened her about it. It didn’t even have to be true, Nasimiyu could say whatever she wanted and have Dulce’s head off in a moment. Rather than frighten her, this power disparity pissed Dulce off.

She clearly and obviously ought to leave immediately, before that could happen. What was holding Nasimiyu back from doing so this very day? She was clearly angry about Namjoon still, and hadn’t said a word to Dulce since she’d walked in on her and Prince Seokjin fucking. Was she waiting and hoping for Dulce to come groveling to her? Or just biding her time until she could surprise Dulce with an accusation and death?

It didn’t make any sense, and Dulce hated not knowing. She was too close to this one; she wouldn’t be able to leap away before Nasimiyu’s dagger plunged in.

She had to be fast. Faster than this.

But there was nothing incriminating to be found anywhere in Nasimiyu’s room. The letters from her mother were dull and saccharine. There were no letters from her father. She didn’t keep a diary, not even a fake, so there was nothing to betray her as a fiance either, no pining for Namjoon inked onto pages in her hand. Dulce had taught her too well, it seemed.

Dulce paid a visit to the old room Nasimiyu had stayed in, but there likely hadn’t been anything notable there either before it was wiped clean. Same for the rooms Prince Hamisi and Princess Simisola had lived in. 

What was Dulce’s next step here? She felt hopelessly out of options. She could approach Prince Seokjin and just tell him… but why would he believe her against his own fiance? He wouldn’t. Dulce was just an out of favor maid. Well, she could tell him more than that if she was willing to sacrifice her own security…

But how did one prove they were an assassin hired to spy and assassinate you? She had no written orders. No secret society brand on her shoulder. No poisoned dagger bearing Prince Hamisi’s emblem or any of the other clues that led to the capture of the villains in the Kalamouche novels. The emblemed dagger in the most recent book she’d read had really done her in, it was nearly enough to make her laugh, it was such a stupid idea. What idiot gave an assassin a clear and obvious connection back to the purse-holder? Dulce had found herself wishing she could meet the author and give him a good thrashing and tell him to do better –nobles were absolute idiots but in a very different way than that. But it had then led to the mental play of Prince Seokjin meeting the author and probably being so exuberant and excited about it because he probably read these ideas and thought they were genius and it had ticked her off so much, this day dream, the fact that she was daydreaming about Prince Seokjin. 

What was this man doing to her?! Why?! She had met so many men in her life and this one was… was ignorant and naive and too trusting and… honestly, a clown. And thoughtful and considerate and inappropriately chivalrous and unfortunately almost funny and generous and from what she could see, honest. If he was not honest, he had fooled her. Otherwise, he might be one of the only honest people she had ever met in her life. Everything about him seemed so sincere. Was that true? He did not seem to consider himself when he put himself forward to help someone –a maid who didn’t need rescuing, a crying child, a servant who was secretly his brother and an inherent threat to his throne.

Fuck that guy, he was messing with her head. She had to figure something out and then get the fuck out of here. She’d do her best to find some way to open his eyes to the dangers around him, but she couldn’t die for him. She needed to be gone before Nasimiyu figured it out. Possibly the only thing staying Nasimiyu’s hand right now was that she’d never directly caused someone’s death before. Could that be it? Was there some conscience after all beneath that ridiculous flower crown Prince Seokjin had given Nasimiyu for dinner last night?

She circled the palace trying to look like she had somewhere to be without actually having an aim. Prince Hamisi was too smart to leave anything incriminating in the Kim palace. Nasimiyu never had anything to leave around. She could try interrogating Nasimiyu’s guards or maids for anything but it would raise suspicion on herself unless she killed them afterwards, likely not get her anything, and another death around Nasimiyu would probably send the palace into another frenzy.

How ironic. Dulce was possibly the greatest threat to Nasimiyu, wasn’t she? It occurred to her that striking Nasimiyu down and lying in wait for Prince Hamisi to come running back would be the quickest way to ensure they couldn’t harm Prince Seokjin.

But actually killing Nasimiyu… It made Dulce’s stomach turn. She didn’t need to go that far right now. Dulce was efficient and purposeful, but she wasn’t wasteful. Death was inevitable, but that didn’t mean Dulce was eager to dole it out, not to someone she had so recently been so close to. Honestly, did Nasimiyu deserve to die? She shouldn’t be queen but..

Dulce was compromised. She was too sentimental. The objective truth was that no one person was worth more than the lives of dozens or hundreds of others, but right now Nasimiyu wasn’t a threat to dozens or even hundreds of people. If she died today, there would be a new and probably worse princess betrothed to the prince tomorrow. Nasimiyu was selfish and stubborn but supposedly had good intentions, so in a world where her rule wasn’t a threat to Seokjin’s life, Dulce would have left her alone. 

“I have a packet for the King,” a deep voice said, traveling closer up the hallway.

Another voice scoffed, “And I told you, he is not in the palace today so you will have to wait or leave your missives with me.” Dulce recognized the voice of Han-gyeol Jung –that weasley old man constantly looking down his nose at young men and squinting like he could see through the dresses of young women. Allegedly he served as a ‘deportment’ tutor for Prince Seokjin but seemed to leave his more palatable son to do most of the actual refining work. 

“I’m in a hurry,” the man said, which struck Dulce as odd. If you had things to deliver to the king, wasn’t that the most important thing you could do? Unless you were just impatient, but he didn’t sound impatient, he sounded… nervous. “They must be delivered directly to the King.”

When Lord Jung or whatever the fuck his proper title was refused to go and physically retrieve the King from the caves, the man snapped that he would try again tomorrow but he wasn’t spending a night here and stomped off. Dulce watched the elder Jung subtly around the corner. He looked completely unbothered by the man’s insistence, as if this sort of urgent entitled demand to see the king was a common occurrence. She found it more curious that he would act as a kind of butler or intermediary for the King in his absence rather than the Castellan or literally anyone else. It seemed outside of his job scope. But what did she know? Besides, most of those people had gone on the hunt. 

He strode off to do another task. So the King must not be lying in wait expecting anything urgent, otherwise surely he would let his butler know to fetch him at once should a messenger arrive. Unless Han-gyeol Jung didn’t know anything either and had just unknowingly thwarted something actually very important

Dulce had nothing better to do though (what, maid chores?) and decided to follow the man with the message. He’d not gone far and anyway his steps were loud enough to easily find him, the idiot. She tailed him out of the palace and down into the city, right out the front doors. Nobody looked at him, and she supposed she struck the right balance of looking like a nobody maid that nobody bothered with her either. The man did keep looking anxious around himself but he clearly wasn’t worried about an innocent looking maid with her hair wrapped in a white kerchief the only time he might have seen her over his shoulder.

They moved further into the city. He seemed to know exactly where he was going, which made it easier to keep up with him because his movements were purposeful and obvious. They passed through a couple neighborhoods before he entered an unremarkable tavern, the Bear and Beer.

“Need a room?” the innkeeper asked as the man went straight to the counter.

“Yes, only the night. Middle of the row if you’ve got it,” he said, already dumping coin on the counter as though he knew the cost. They didn’t seem to know each other but he must have been here before; he didn’t wait for further instructions about how to reach “Room 4” before taking the key and heading up. Locking doors meant this was a nicer place, though Dulce could have guessed that from the quiet and decently clean downstairs. The innkeeper kept the keys on a loop that jangled at his hip, which would make it harder to get the spare for Room 4 that he surely kept.

“What about you, need a room?” he called, unfortunately spotting her right away.

Annoyed, she said she was hoping to meet someone and ordered a beer for while she waited. Since it was early in the day, she had her pick of tables where she could watch the few folks who came and went. No one looked suspicious, or even remarkably unsuspicious which could itself be suspicious. Those who came down looked like they’d had a late night to sleep off. Three went up during the time she watched –a maid with an armful of clean linens and a pair with a massive bag between them and the air of disappointment, whatever their business had been that morning.

This was stupid. She was wasting her time on what was likely one of a thousand people who tried to visit the king on any given day and were turned away, and for what reason, because she was bored and frustrated around the palace? She’d have as much luck finding something useful blindly wandering the streets.

She paid for her beer and headed for the door but felt the shuffle of movement close behind her. Turning, she caught only the back of a figure heading purposefully for the stairs as several other people moved around the room at once, getting up to refill mugs of beer or empty tables or step closer to the fire. All normal gestures, but Dulce felt as if the world had thawed quite suddenly, which struck her as odd. Not everyone seemed to be orchestrating something, but rather like something predictable had happened –the waitress had brought in a large tray of food– just as she had risen from the table and others had moved in synchrony too. Coincidence. 

But the two people who slipped quickly up the stairs as if they did not wish to be seen felt more intentional. Like people trained to take advantage of a predicted moment of distraction.

Dulce strode forward and bumped into the waitress, who promptly toppled the whole tray onto the table. The patrons leapt up and the waitress leapt back and the innkeeper came running around from the bar squawking about the mess, shoving the waitress out of the way in his rush to apologize –which was just enough physical distraction for Dulce to unhook the ring of keys from his belt. It wasn’t even a twist latch! The fool.

She disappeared up the stairs in the chaos, shedding her cloak and the kerchief in the process, wrapping them into a bundle to mute the jingling of the remaining keys once she’d pulled off the one with the 4 scratched into it.

She put on her best oops wrong room face and rushed through door four… to be met with an empty room. The man had either left or met his fate, but it was definitely his pack still sitting on the bed. She frowned at the stillness and pulled her blade from her pocket, the little shitty one Nasimiyu had given her since it was the closet on hand. If she reached for her boot, he might rush out of the wardrobe or something.

He wasn’t there when she checked though, nor under the bed. Convinced she was alone, she promptly upended his bag. She shoved aside some light clothing, a miniscule bag of money, no more than a handful of jerky and a cheap necklace, and instead focused on the small leatherbound journal –oddly expensive compared to everything else– and a short stack of sealed envelopes. Everything else she shoved back inside, hoping it would buy her some time before the man realized he’d been robbed –of what was probably just a complaint about his neighbor. Dulce realized she was being very rash right now.

A noise in the hallway made her freeze, then leap into the wardrobe mere seconds before the door swung open again. In walked the man she had followed, pulling at his waistband as if he’d just pulled his pants up. 

Well shit.

If he had any wits about him, he was going to check the wardrobe in a moment to make sure his room was secure and find her, and what was she going to do? If he was rotten folk, she could kill him and be on her way, but if he wasn’t, she’d rather knock him out.

He didn’t check the wardrobe yet. Instead he sat at the table and produced some cheese and a hunk of bread from his pocket. She held her breath, expecting he’d open his pack for the jerky and notice his precious papers were gone– but he didn’t.

Were people really such fools they didn’t check their rooms first?!

Dulce set the keys in the bottom of the wardrobe with her cloak, moving slowly and carefully so as not to produce even the faintest brushing sound. Then, by the light creeping in through the shoddy cabinetry, she eased open the seal on the first paper and did her best to read. The hand was scratchy and rushed, masculine she thought but couldn’t be sure –her own hand was masculine, she’d been told long ago, as if that mattered.

HD not in Sartia as directed – SD alone

HD crossed border near Ft Gaysa, could not follow, gone 3 days

HD headed north

Dulce’s brow knitted. How annoying to be simultaneously in code but not really. Per request sure sounded like this man had been sent somewhere, to trail this HD to Sartia–

Hamisi Dabo. Dulce was no font of knowledge on famous or infamous persons, but Prince Hamisi had been headed to Sartia with his wife, Simisola Dabo. People were stupid and often the most obvious answer was right.

Her heart leapt into her throat. Was this important? That Prince Hamisi had lied about going to Sartia? What was at Ft Gaysa? If that wasn’t notable, the fact he had crossed the border down there sure was; no one was allowed to cross the southern Therepin border, it would nullify the very precarious treaty after the Therepin Border Wars.

She shoved the note down the front of her dress, blood pounding in her ears as she carefully opened the next. It was in a different hand and dated separately, sealed differently, as if the letters had been sent by two different people completely which left her unsure how they had both wound up with this man.

Summary report on investigation into recent Therepin skirmishes. Full reports arriving separately

1: No witnesses survived. Entire village dead and burned. Civilian deaths: 76.

2: Reliable eyewitness reports invasion of village at dawn. Military arrived 22 minutes later. Military deaths: 1, Assailants: 14 reported - bodies burned could not verify, Citizens: 7. 

3: Eyewitness claims assailants came around from the north not south!!! Military arrived in 11 minutes. Military death: 1, Assailants: 13 - bodies burned could not verify, Citizens: 18.

4: Two witnesses survived by hiding under floorboards, have gone missing since interview. Claimed to have heard assailants speak of belonging to Sons of Sunset. Military deaths: 0, Assailants: 32 reported - 3 bodies produced, rest burned could not verify; Civilian deaths: 49 + assuming 2 witnesses

Dulce’s mind was racing. These reports were exactly what she was looking for! Proof that Hamisi was up to something. He shouldn’t be crossing the border, and if the Sons of Sunset were attacking towns and blaming another country, the king needed to know!

But maybe he already knew? She couldn’t tell from just these notes if the King was investigating Prince Hamisi on his own, or if he was just looking into the skirmishes, or what. She knew the royal family had a network of spies, though they tended to be clumsy and easy to identify. This man seemed excessively clumsy though to be carrying such precious documents only to leave them unattended in his room for even a moment. He must not know what he had.

Damn she wished she knew more about what was going on at the border for the notes to make more sense. Namjoon had ranted within earshot at some point but she wasn’t very political and had ignored him. Nonetheless, she would now make sure these landed in the King’s hand directly. 

The third didn’t have a seal. Just a dashed, unsigned note on a thin slip of paper.

Delso dead. I’m followed. Take this copy in case I’m done. Watch your back cmdr dsk on the move hunting for squeakers

Cmdr Dsk… Commander Dong-suk Kim? These things weren’t even in code! Any good spy knew the point of code! Though she considered that if the point was to get this information to the King, maybe code wasn’t useful. After all, she was not part of his spy network but understood at least some of the message that needed to make it to the king. It wasn’t actually in the King’s interest for these things to be secret, it was only in the interest of the messengers themselves but by the point someone was reading them, you were likely already dead–

A knock at the door to the room made her head jolt up as quickly as this messenger’s. He rose slowly from the table at another knock. He took a step forward and drew his blade at an even harder knock, nearly enough to take the door off its hinges.

The man started to run for the window, but the act of grabbing his pack from the bed was too slow –he ought to have grabbed and run first, the fool! And he paid dearly for it as the door crashed in, the lock shattering right out of the doorframe as one of the suspicious men she’d seen slide upstairs earlier launched himself through.

A thrown dagger caught the messenger in the back of the neck and he toppled forward, metal protruding through the front. Still his body dragged him forward but there was no fight for life possible and by the time the large man carelessly ripped the bag from his shoulder, he was still and limp.

“Is it the right room this time?” a second voice demanded. He elbowed the door back into place after a peek down the hallway. “You sure it’s him?”

“This is the guy.”

“--Is what you said about the other.”

Dulce waited, calculating. If they’d made short work of someone in another room without even her hearing, they were a trifle better at their jobs than this careless messenger. She could remain hidden and hope they left, but only an idiot wouldn’t check the fucking wardrobe.

Two to one… she’d faced worse odds. All three notes carefully down her bodice, she eased her favorite dagger from under her skirt, touched the one in her boot to make sure it was at hand, took a deep breath, then launched herself from the cabinet.

They’d upended the backpack and the bigger man’s wrist tangled in the straps, which slowed him down enough for Dulce’s blade to slash his upper arm. His other first swung around and would probably have knocked her out cold if she hadn’t ducked just as the smaller man’s blade sliced at her back. Fabric caught and tore thanks to a hook on the tip of his blade that would do even nastier things to skin if she let it, but also presented a weakness. She tried to catch her blade in it to yank it away but misjudged the angle once, twice, three times; their blades struck and slid against each other, the metal grating noise making her skin crawl. It was too much thinking and not enough movement to keep her out of reach of the second man who wasn’t that bothered after all by his cut arm: he plucked her around the waist and threw her against the wall like a rag doll.

“Quiet,” the small man hissed at him after the thud. Dulce groaned and rolled onto her stomach, wheezing. But she’d managed to save some of the breath in her lungs by curling as she flew, and took advantage of their assumption she’d be down. She dragged herself deceptively slowly forward and when the smaller man lifted a leather boot to kick her, she stabbed her smaller blade right down into the toe of his boot as hard as she could. Those fine leather boots of his parted like butter; the toes she stabbed through put up more resistance. He yowled.

“Quiet!” the bigger man mocked and lifted Dulce from the ground by the torn back of her dress, his other blade already slicing at her middle as if to gut her. She slashed at his wrist with the second knife. He tried to knock it away, opening himself up to a straight stab to the gut with the blade from her boot, and another and another. Her blade sank in several inches each time, blood rushing out as she pulled it out, but nowhere deep enough to hit anything vital.

“Fucking whore!” he bellowed and dropped her just as the other man stabbed forward. They weren’t well coordinated and managed to knock into each other while she ducked down and spun away. It only saved her a moment though before both were on her again, small blades biting anywhere they reached. The room’s space was too tight to really maneuver away and they shoved furniture, blundered into the walls, tripped over the body of the messenger, crashed against the bed. 

“Just grab her!” the smaller man shouted. Dulce instinctively leapt away from the larger man as his fist clipped the back of her head, but maybe intentionally so, it had been a distraction and the smaller man slashed at her throat, just missing. Dulce struck back but another blow to her back pushed her right into the man’s blade; she knocked it away from her belly but he brought a second around to stab at her back. She slammed her foot onto his thigh and jumped high so that his blade sliced the side of her leg instead, tangling in her ridiculous skirt and tearing fabric and skin both. She returned the favor against the man’s face, an attempt to kill him that sadly missed.

Dulce felt a meaty hand grab the front of her dress and turn her for what was undoubtedly a death blow. She turned faster than the larger man expected and wrapped around him, the strings of her bodice ripping and tangling around his hand as she slid onto his back, her blade dragging across his throat like a caress. It was butchery; she couldn’t risk her cut being too shallow again. He threw himself backwards to avoid the depth, crushing her against the dresser as his blood fountained out and his body began to thrash in in a fit of primal survival. It took all the muscles of her arm to tear that pipe. She managed to slide away from him, diving after the other man who seemed monentarily shocked that she’d managed to down his companion –but not shocked enough to meet the same fate. 

He leapt towards her as the other man still flailed, blade extended. Dulce tripped on the dead messenger and it saved her skin; neither she nor the smaller man expected her to drop just then. She rolled around him instead and stabbed at his thigh; the blade sank in but her fingers were locked too tight so when he leapt away it jerked her along too, exposing her side. Her skirt twisted around her leg and later she’d curse herself for wearing such a stupid thing. He took the opportunity, blade going right for her ribs. Her turn dragged it instead across the tops of her breasts, a shallow slice that stung like a bitch. the other side of her torn bodice caught the actual hook of his blade. She stabbed in the direction of his arm. 

He surprised her, shoving his hand down the front of her chemise. She thought he was stabbing and tried to twist away. 

Instead he pulled out the notes she’d tucked, dashed with her blood and sweat and crumbled beyond belief. He flashed her a grin and was out the window in a heartbeat, unbothered by the knife she threw at his back. Dulce tried to stumble after him, to follow him out, but her legs refused and she merely crawled forward. By the time she reached the, he was long gone and she was alone in the bloodied, broken room with two corpses, the larger one still blinking and gasping but beyond consciousness.

Dulce panted for breath and felt herself, searching for anything fatal. It had all happened so fast. Bruises and cuts she hadn’t noted in the moment competed for attention but adrenaline kept her from surrendering to any of it just yet. 

The notes were gone. 

Fuck!

That’s what they’d been looking for.

She didn’t have time to think about it right now. They’d been noisy; any moment someone was going to crash through the broken door and she couldn’t be here. She refused to take the fall for whatever she had stumbled into.

Fuck, the notes were gone. It killed her. They were exactly what she had needed! She didn’t want to leave empty handed but pounding steps in the hall told her she had seconds to act. She grabbed the messenger’s coat he had previously hung on the chair and yanked it on over her torn clothes and with her braid tucked down, pulled his hat on low, and rushed towards the door. 

“Hey! What’s going on in there!! Open up!” the inn keeper or someone matching his anger shouted ahead of themself, storming down the hall. Dulce weighed her options. She could rush out but didn’t know how many people were there. The other man had gone out the window, so there was a way. He might be waiting but it was her best change.

She grabbed her favorite blade and leapt onto the windowsill, eying the likeliest path he had taken. 

Shake all you want, but you’re moving on, she told her legs and took the leap. It was a tight scrabble. Her fingers ached for purchase. She shimmied along the narrow ledge until she reached the lower roof, then tore over it before anyone from the ground would hopefully notice her. The stables on the other side had enough boxes to leap down like a cat and off she raced as soon as her boots touched ground. Some globs of blood dotted the hay-strew ground; she’d got the man good at least once and wished now she’d at least had a good look at his face. She would never recognize him in a room and that pissed her off. He might recognize her.

She noticed  the gasps and curious, nervous glances as she sprinted down the street until she knew her legs really were about to buckle. Then she slid into an alley, turned the coat inside out, and did her best to piece herself back together. 

In doing so, she discovered she still had one paper: HD not in Sartia as directed – SD alone

Useless on its own.

Now what to fucking do. She was injured, unclear how badly. She knew she looked awful and would raise too many questions if she limped into the palace like that, but where else did she have to go? She didn’t even have the money for a room to wash her face in.

Taehyung or Yoongi? Which could she get to without being seen? Which did she trust to help and not question? What a loss that Nasimiyu couldn’t shield her now.

Neither, she didn’t trust anyone. Ever. People were only loyal as long as it served them. No oath in the world was sacred, even one of love, and they had sworn her nothing.

But she had no other options.

She took her bet and set off, already crafting her story.

“Come on,” Drin cajoled, jostling Seokjin’s arm in the hallway. “You can’t avoid the hunt.”

“I’m not avoiding anything,” Seokjin lied, lied as big and strong as the angry surf that had crashed against the sea wall all night. It called to him, that sea. Only slightly in a macabre way –and not because of the wedding planning, that was fine. He wasn’t avoiding wedding planning. Why would he be avoiding wedding planning? Nor was he avoiding his uncle, as Drin now gracefully hinted it:

“You’re either avoiding your uncle or the caves but either way, you’re fucked. Your father has sent for you. A tummyache ain’t a good reason to skip the hunt.”

“Actually I find it a very good reason,” Seokjin quipped. “Would he have me shit my horse?”

“You can’t blame a stomach to avoid uncomfortable things, little prince. Turn right around and suit up for the hunt. Wear a baby’s swaddle to hold the shit, if you need to.”

“Does no one take me seriously?”

“We know you’ve a history of avoiding–”

“I’m not avoiding anything, except maybe the kitchen.”

Because god save him if he ran into Dulce there. Not after Dulce had walked in on him… with Nasimiyu… A cold shudder ran through his body, followed by the flush of a fever of mortification. It would have been bad for anyone to walk in –didn’t anyone fucking knock?! But of all people, for it to be Dulce, it just…

He wanted to scream. To cry. To throw up. He’d done none of those things. He had quickly dressed and fled to his room and taken a hot bath to wash the sex off and considered drowning himself more than once. For all he knew, his dick had shriveled into his body and would never emerge. Certainly he was never going to have sex again. He was private about sex, thank you very much, so for an unwelcome guest to intrude–

And for it to be Dulce– on or around her birthday, of all times!

Seokjin was not easy to embarrass. But this had done it. And, with little practice in recovering from an embarrassment he rarely felt, he was, in fact, hiding from a maid. Utter shock had emboldened him to hastily scribble the note with the book and send Jimin to deliver it to wherever Dulce slept and now his interactions with her were done and he would never look her in the eye again. Which meant avoiding any of the places they might ever run into each other, including but not limited to: the kitchen where she went for food, the yard where she sometimes passed by, any of the hallways near Nasimiyu’s room, and possibly the queen’s garden where she seemed to appreciate the flowers. He wondered if Nasimiyu would be willing to come to his room from now on… assuming this hadn’t just rendered him impotent for life.

Honestly wandering into a bullet’s path in the caves seemed like not the worst way to go right now.

Because in truth Seokjin also knew he could not avoid Dulce forever, particularly if she remained Nasimiyu’s maid. 

He felt like he’d assaulted Dulce. His note wasn’t enough. He didn’t know what else to do. He’d never been in the wrong in this way towards a woman before! And she might be around any corner in this palace, ready to turn to look right through him with those dark eyes that looked so warm behind a mug of hot chocolate. The whole thing was ghastly. How his father had allegedly carried on orgies in the dining hall was beyond Seokjin. Would it have been less devastating if it was someone else? He decided not to answer that, even to himself.

“Is Nasimiyu really going?” Seokjin asked Jimin over his shoulder. “Who’s she taking with her?” The question probably said too much but Jimin was sworn to loyalty and wouldn’t rat him out, even if he figured out the question behind Seokjin’s question. Which he probably did, seeing as Seokjin had told him what happened and had him deliver the book.

“She is, Sir, and expects you are too. She’s not taking any of her maids.”

That was good enough for Seokjin. 

“Fine, I’ll go,” Seokjin said to Drin.

“What now, really?”

“I’ll go change.” 

“No, you’re off to hide. You’re dressed fine, just take your jacket off. A fight doesn’t always wait for the prince go get changed into clothes he doesn’t mind bloodying!” Drin barked, and clapped Seokjin on the shoulder. He seemed shockingly sober, likely a result of Uncle Dong-suk’s arrival. The two had served together when they were younger, as peers. But Dong-suk was royal and rose to commander and Drin shattered his arm and decided to train the prince instead of remain on the battlefield. Dong-suk was of the mindset you should die on the battlefield instead of “give in to disability,” which Seokjin thought was rich to say when you had no such injury. As if being the private arms tutor to the prince was a mark of weakness!

“Why are you so eager?” Seokjin demanded, already regretting it. “We aren’t fighting, we’re hunting.”

“Is it different?” Drin cryptically asked and strode ahead, trusting Seokjin to follow to the courtyard where the hunting party gathered. 

“Did you really think you could avoid the hunt?” Jungkook asked, sidling up to Seokjin’s elbow as the prince dragged his feet but followed his trainer. Seokjin gave him a look, because obviously yes, he did and would have, even if it meant lying to his father and uncle that he was shitting his brains out. But also no, he had known he couldn’t, because Nasimiyu was going and he couldn’t leave her to hunt alone. Why had she decided to go?! It was that bit of information from Jimin that had dragged Seokjin from his hiding place. 

She sat atop her horse with only two of her guards at hand. Taehyung wasn’t far off, a horse lead in each hand, though he looked confused. Seokjin assumed it was concern over whether Seokjin would show and went right to him, hairs on the back of his neck prickling as his father and uncle no doubt noted his late arrival.

“I’m to go with you,” Taehyung said quietly.

“You? Why, you’re a stable boy,” Seokjin scoffed for any who might hear.

“I don’t know, your uncle said so.”

Seokjin glanced over at the two elder Kim men now. Uncle Dong-suk didn’t hide that he was watching. 

“Do you think he–” Taehyung broke off and looked away, poorly hiding his nerves.

Seokjin slapped a hand on Taehyung’s shoulder and announced loudly, “Congratulations on winning the honor of joining us on the hunt! Every month we’ll take along someone new from the household staff so that you may all experience the wonder and prestige of spending a day skulking around in the dark, looking for things to kill that aren’t even good to eat. You’ll ride with me today, aren’t you lucky?”

“So lucky,” Taehyung murmured. “Here’s your horse…” He glanced at the path down to the hunting caves as if considering whether he ought to just set out for Paloma now. Seokjin thought he should. This did seem suspicious, for Dong-suk to take any notice of Taehyung. He had visited Priva a couple times since Seokjin brought Taehyung to live here and never even looked at the stablehand, but Seokjin had always assumed his uncle knew and didn’t give a shit, as he didn’t have a direct descendent in line for the throne anyway. Nothing changed for Dong-suk if it was Seokjin’s ass on the throne someday or Taehyung’s.

But this was a change. Either he hadn’t know before and now did, or he was trying to make a point that something had changed now, and Seokjin didn’t like it either way. 

“Lady,” he called to Nasimiyu as he mounted his horse, one last prayer of bailing. “Are you well today?”

Nasimiyu’s brow knit as she demanded, clearly offended, “I am, why do you ask?”

“Are you sure this is how you want to spend a day? We might do… anything else your heart desires. Literally anything.”

“Oh there are Lord Jothi and Lord Theo, should we ride with them again?” Nasimiyu asked. “I do hope you’re able to catch something this time.”

“I caught your heart last time, can’t imagine what greater prize there exists then–”

“Let’s ride!” Seokjin’s father called as if recognizing his son was still trying to weasel out of this. The two dozen mounts in the courtyard moved as one, Taehyung rushing to swing into his saddle and pulling into line next to Jungkook in Seokjin’s wake.

Conversation with Nasimiyu ran dry during the ride down. She didn’t seem much inclined to talk, giving him the suspicion he’d done something to anger her, but he couldn’t fix it because he didn’t know what. She hadn’t seemed angry at dinner last night. 

“You decided to hunt alone?” he asked as they waited for servants to bring them weapons. 

“I have my guards and you. Who else would I want?” Nasimiyu asked with what he thought might be feigned confusion.

“Last time you brought a couple of maids, didn’t you?”

“Yes and they all begged not to come again.” She said it so casually, Seokjin had no reason not to believe her. With any luck, Dulce was avoiding him the same way, and they would never cross paths again despite living in the same palace.

Yay?

Once in the grand entrance cave, Jungkook pulled his horse close to Seokjin and leaned as near he could to murmur, “It’s going to be impossible to keep an eye on Taehyung and you at the same time.”

Seokjin knew he was right. This was the easiest place in the world to kill someone. He’d always thought how stupid that man who’d tried to assassinate him had been, sending a pig to do it, when one could just do it from a ledge or around a corner and no one would ever catch you. It was a wonder more people weren’t killed here –though he had his suspicions that the dark rumors his great-grandfather had hunted men down here for sport might be very true. He suspected Grandfather had too, though the old bastard had died when Seokjin was young enough to not remember much about him except his ice-cold hands.

“Watch him closer,” Seokjin told Jungkook.

“Than–”

“Yeah. I’ll be fine. That’s your order.”

“Ok…” Jungkook said as he leaned back in his saddle. He didn’t look pleased about this but he’d never disobeyed an order before.

“I mean it. Jimin will watch after me,” Seokjin said, turning to his right-hand man.

Jimin let out a guffaw and asked, “Did you just assign me bodyguard status? You must be joking, haha.” He hesitated to accept the gun handed to him by a staff of the hunt before taking it with a look of disgust.

Nasimiyu, having heard some bits of this, asked, “Is there a problem? Why is your butler being a bodyguard?”

“It’s just a joke,” Seokjin assured her. “Are we ready? Let’s get a head start.”

“Don’t we have to wait for your father to–”

“I’m the prince so I’ll do as I please,” he said, full of shallow bravado. “Besides, I don’t want to ride with Theo and Jothi again. They were flirting with you last time.”

Nasimiyu looked surprisingly thrilled as she argued, “No they weren’t… were they? I don’t think so…” 

“Eager to lead the charge, my son?” Dong-gun called, giving his horse a swift kick to catch up before Seokjin’s party made it through the first cave. Dong-suk pulled up beside his elder brother and Seokjin bit back his frustration.

Instead he teased, “Shall we make a competition of it, father?”

“I’d rather watch your technique and see the catch myself,” Dong-suk interjected, which was of course exactly the opposite of what Seokjin wanted. Did his uncle mean to shoot Taehyung himself?! He brought no guards, only the servant assigned to fetch his kills trotting along beside him, looking terrified by his assignment as if he too realized how disposable he was as a witness.

“Well you shall… certainly be in awe…” Seokjin stammered out as Drin too pulled forward.

“A full party, eh? Just like old times,” he beamed at Dong-suk. Dong-suk did not beam back. “He’s made good progress in arms since you were here last but his sharpshooting is second to none. Fantastic aim, that one’s got.”

Dong-gun clapped his hands and pulled his horse ahead, taking an uncontested lead that Seokjin had no choice at the moment but to follow –with every intention of carving Taehyung and Nasimiyu off to get “lost” down a side cave at the first chance.

Dong-gun and Dong-suk weren’t going to make it easy. They led them, practically boxed them in, down the central corridor, right past all the twisty windy smaller paths that would have made it easier to “take a wrong turn.” No one dared rush past them, so they were the first to enter the grand central cavern with its massive forest and craggy peak –not too dissimilar from the cavern he’d explored with Nasimiyu and Dulce and those bratty upstarts last time, so that an average person might think they were the same place. That was the danger with this place, it was a death trap if you didn’t have a good guide. 

Dong-gun and Dong-suk wasted no time along the way shooting anything that moved, no hesitation. Despite his uncle’s constant criticism of Priva and its excesses, he loved the hunt. It was about the only time he saw his uncle smile, just a tight-lipped slant when a deathcry followed the crack of his rifle. He scowled when Dong-gun would get one first, their array of servants running to and fro in the dark with low lanterns trying to find whatever they’d felled or take the long way round to chase what lay strewn against the far cliffs. 

“They’re going to shoot someone,” Nasimiyu gasped as a goat went stock still in the distance, illuminated by those shimmering blue lights overhead, then collapsed not too far off from a game master who raised his hands in a silent plea not to be shot next.

Seokjin’s father heard her and scoffed, “Never, Princess. You doubt our aim?” 

In one swift motion he’d turned his rifle towards Taehyung on his horse and fired, knocking Taehyung’s hat clean off. A pinch from taking Taehyung’s head with it, most likely.

Taehyung didn’t scream, just tightened his hold on his horse as it took a couple nervous steps.  

Seokjin screamed loud enough for both of them. He shouted, “Ah ya, what’s that!? You take aim at our staff guest? Are you confused, old man? Aim your gun that way!” His heart pounded in his chest, his fear urging him to take flight and trust Taehyung to follow and get away from this place. He’d brought his only living brother into a deathtrap, that’s what he’d just done. Was their own father the threat, not Dong-suk? Seokjin was shocked by what had just happened.

His father laughed and pointed out, “See? Horse or man, Privan stallions are made of stern stuff.”

Nasimiyu’s horror showed on her face and Seokjin was glad his father couldn’t see it, afraid it would only encourage him. 

“Onwards,” Seokjin gritted out and pulled his horse forward, nudging Taehyung to ride beside him, against the wall. 

Seokjin fucking hated it here.

It wasn’t long before Nasimiyu nudged her horse up beside him, forcing Taehyung to fall back, which was probably for the best anyway. 

“Shoot something,” she hissed at him.

“What?”

“We’re here to hunt, so hunt, or they’re going to be shooting at you next,” she whispered harshly. “The whole thing is a test, isn’t it? Your uncle is watching you so do something!”

Seokjin didn’t know how to explain a lifetime of misery and fear of his uncle to her. He didn’t think she’d be impressed anyway. What was he going to tell her, that anything more intelligent than a fish he found nauseating to kill? It wasn’t like they were killing to eat out of necessity down here. The game alway tasted like rocks. 

He was glad she realized there were politics going on but disappointed she wanted him to play into them, even though he recognized she was probably right. 

Drin was right that his aim was good; if he aimed true, he could fell something quickly, appease his father and uncle, impress his bride-to-be, and maybe protect Taehyung in case that had been meant as some kind of weird show of power. 

“Very well,” he murmured. “Yes, it’s about time I show off my marksmanship.” He took his time loading his gun as their horses dawdled after the others. He looked around for something inoffensive to murder, but the blue lights gave everything the same unearthly glow and made it hard to distinguish a mouse from a monkey in the trees. He looked at the ridge instead, and in doing so noted a something-or-other silhouetted against the stream trickling through the center of this stretch of cavern. 

“Perfect shot, I should think,” Dong-suk mused from ahead, his horse blocking the path for everyone. His gaze tore into Seokjin, digging in deep, finding him lacking as always.

Seokjin raised his gun and aimed. It didn’t matter what it was at this point, he didn’t have a way out without further ridicule. His brother’s life might be in danger. He had to pull the trigger.

He hesitated.

A crack erupted, bouncing around them, echoing in Seokjin’s ears. The black lump slipped from the tree branch. Seokjin wanted to do the same from his horse but remained frozen.

“Fantastic shot, my son!” Dong-gun cheered. “Go fetch it, whatever it was. An owl?”

“I hope not…” Seokjin joked vaguely, and resisted looking except out of his periphery at Taehyung shoving the smoking barrel of his gun out of view under the pretense he was looking down the barrel still trying to find something to shoot.

“That was a great shot, Your Highness,” he called over his shoulder to Seokjin.

“Marvelous,” Nasimiyu agreed. She gave him a smirk, leaving him unsure if she had been fooled or not.

“Hm,” his uncle said. Seokjin doubted he was fooled but either way, didn’t say anything.

It was a kestrel. Beautiful. Seokjin hadn’t even actually killed it and still looked away.

They rode on, into a smaller cave called The Aviary thanks to the hundreds of birds that roosted in the trees that grew up and the vines that dangled down and the clear space in between.

“Can’t miss in here,” Dong-gun called back. “Want a go, Princess? I think your rifle’s still cold.”

“Of course!” she called back. “I’ve just been watching to learn the layout of the caves.” Seokjin started to tell her she didn’t have to –he’d take the attention away– but Nasimiyu lifted her rifle and fired once– twice– nothing. She handed it to her servant to reload, hand waving for them to hurry. Seokjin didn’t think she’d aimed at anything and decided she must be firing wide.

Except her next shot connected. Seokjin didn’t see what it was as he had been watching her face, but the cheer went up, he heard the broken cry behind him, and he saw Nasimiyu’s face –shocked, horrified, for only a moment, and then triumphant. Had she had a change of heart or pulled on a mask?

The bird was brought to her, a beautiful yellow-feathered song bird that draped across her hands, a bright messy red spot on its stomach where her bullet had punctured and killed. She stared at it and then at Seokjin, like she wasn’t sure what to do with this.

“What is it?”

“We call them Sun Singers,” Seokjin told her. “They sing every morning when the sun rises but not down here. They can’t see the sun so they never sing.” Do you understand how fucking sad that is? He was afraid she wouldn’t get it. He felt an innate certainty Dulce would.

“My lady, do you wish to have it stuffed?” the servant asked her.

Her face flickered with emotions he couldn’t name as she asked, “Can it not be eaten?”

“No, they only sing, they aren’t good for eating.”

“Take it away,” she said, thrusting it back at the servant. Dong-gun and Dong-suk had both brought down geese and Taehyung a duck. Rifle cracks left and right made Seokjin flinch. And the niggling worry in his stomach that his uncle knew he’d faked the shot earlier. He felt his uncle’s eyes on him even when they weren’t, the man sitting proudly on his horse obnoxiously nearby, in between Drin and Taehyung. Shit, he didn’t want his uncle anywhere near Taehyung!

In a hurry to cause a commotion and separate them, Seokjin raised his rifle. He’d shoot a bird, a duck if he could manage it, and invite his uncle over to inspect the bird and feel his warm rifle for proof he’d shot it, and then growl at Jungkook and Jimin to bookend Taehyung and not leave his side until they got out of this place.

There, a bird perfectly arching into view. Seokjin aimed, calculated, and pulled the trigger.

No one would be able to say whether it was the shot that spooked the horse or not, except that Jungkook would swear the horse jumped before the shot and Seokjin believed him because Privan horses didn’t spook. It was too quick. He was certain there had been nothing even close to his line of firing at the moment he pulled the trigger and yet suddenly there was Drin, nearly taking a bullet through the head.

This time Seokjin didn’t scream, just dropped from his horse and ran over as Drin did the same, slapping at his head like a bee had stung him.

“Damn horse!” Drin shouted. 

Seokjin grabbed his arms but Drin shoved him away in his startle, leaving a bloody handprint on Seokjin’s arm.

I’ve killed him. I’ve fucking killed him.

“Your head’s still on,” Dong-suk called, his voice cutting through the chaos. Seokjin reached for Drin again but Dong-gun took hold of him first and shone a light to the back of Drin’s head where the bullet had grazed but not penetrated. A red line across his scalp wept blood.

“I… I’m sorry…” Seokjin stammered, stumbling backwards.

Suddenly Drin laughed and gestured at Dong-suk, “That’s right, old man. I told you he’s got a good aim, eh? Bends bullets in mid-flight. Could have blown my head off thanks to that damn horse startling!”

But it didn’t make sense. Seokjin was too horrified to figure out what would. All he knew was that he’d almost killed his arms master, one of his friends. He didn’t know how he would have dealt with that. He couldn’t comprehend it.

Drin planted a shaking hand on Seokjin’s shoulder and laughed, “Good one, Sir. Think I’ll head back and get my rock stitched up now, no more hunting competition from me today!”

“I’ll go back with you,” Seokjin insisted.

“Nah, don’t bother. Still need to get your duck for dinner like you vowed!”

A crack over their heads echoed, followed shortly by the thump of a carcass hitting the path not far off. Taehyung lowered his smoking gun.

“I saved you the trouble, Your Highness,” Taehyung said to Seokjin, his brow lowered and serious. “There’s a duck for you.”

Uncle Dong-suk slid from the horse himself to pick it up and mused, “Nice shot, boy.”

“Great. That’s the end of the day for me. Nasimiyu, will you accompany me back to the palace as well? You come too, my horse will only settle for you,” Seokjin rattled off, calling his people to him, prepared for his father and uncle to protest his rapid departure. But terror strengthened his blood to iron and he would have shouted down his own father to get out of there

He’d almost killed Drin.

By the time he was in his saddle, Dong-gun and Dong-suk were laughing at these “children with their brief stamina” and venturing further into the cave. 

“I’ll lead us out,” he said. “Drin, are you able to stay horsed?”

“It’s not that bloody bad, nothing a stiff drink won’t pull me through,” the man insisted, sounding more like himself as he fished a flask out of his saddlebag. He needed help getting back into his saddle after the servants finished tying the makeshift bandage around his head, but once there seemed stable enough. 

“Do you know the way out?” Nasimiyu asked. She’d been quiet for a while. Seokjin had forgotten all about her, to be honest. What would she make of this? But it almost seemed like she’d missed it all; she kept glancing at the game bag attached to her saddle. She reached out and pushed the golden feathers peeking out deeper into the sack.

“I do,” Seokjin said simply and pulled his horse ahead.

It wasn’t until they were safely in the sunny courtyard, Drin off to the hands of the palace doctors, that Jungkook came right to Seokjin’s side and said quietly, “The horse jumped before the gunshot.”

“I almost killed him,” Seokjin rushed out, grabbing Jungkook’s arm. He felt less steady now than he had in the cave.

“It wouldn’t have been your fault. I’m telling you, the horse jumped at nothing.”

“I don’t think it was nothing,” Taehyung argued. “But whatever he did, I couldn’t see it clearly.”

“Who?” Seokjin asked even though he already knew the answer.

“Your uncle. Had to be him, but I couldn’t see it…”

“There were other servants around and it was dark,” Jimin pointed out. “Could have been someone else.”

“Why would anyone else give Drin’s horse a kick? Everyone around here likes Drin,” Jungkook argued.

It was Taehyung who swallowed and suggested, “Maybe they didn’t mean to kick his horse. Maybe it was supposed to be mine.”

The suggestion made Seokjin feel even clammier than he already did. As bad as it would have been to kill his swordsmaster, to kill Taehyung would be worse. He wasn’t sure he could live with it. He didn’t even want to kill a duck.

Seokjin didn’t know what to do about any of this. He didn’t want Taehyung to go, but clearly he wasn’t safe right now. If Dong-suk wanted him dead, nowhere would be safe though.

“Jungkook, stay with Taehyung. I’m going to my room so I don’t need a guard. Taehyung you should… pack.”

Taehyung’s face shifted quickly into complaint, as if he hadn’t just faced his own death once or possibly twice. 

“But I can’t leave yet.”

“Or die? You have to go if I have to wrap you in a carpet and toss you on a ship myself.” He paused, watching Nasimiyu speaking to the servant near her own horse, gesturing with disdain at the game bag the servant kept trying to press on her. 

Taehyung stomped off without further comment but clearly pissed. As if Seokjin wanted him to go! He couldn’t put into words how much he wanted Taehyung to stay here. He’d never been good at expressing brotherly devotion of any sort, and Seok-ho was the brother he’d been with for most of his life, but Taehyung must know that Seokjin cared very much for him! They would always be brothers, even if they couldn’t be in the same city, at least for now. 

Nasimiyu was gone. Seokjin was glad. He didn’t feel like facing her right now either. He wished he could just disappear. Even his bedroom wasn’t far remote enough, but it’s the only place he had, and so he went.

Nasimiyu bit back her sigh when the summons from Lady Zselyke came. The summons. Obviously it wasn’t worded quite as such but the intention was clear, and for now she had to endure it because until she actually wed Seokjin, the two of them were in an odd inversion of their proper roles. Lady Zselyke was the only female member of the Kim family, and older, and clearly extending her hand in an attempt to be some sort of mentor.

Annoying.

Nasimiyu had begged off the last invitation(s), and planned to do so again, claiming exhaustion from the hunt that morning. A week wouldn’t have been enough time to recover from all that and it had only been a few hours.

But the invitation had included a warning that the party was at risk, and anyway what else was she going to do, pace her room and try to get that dead bird out of her mind? How stupid to be bothered by a dead bird. Not that she thought the bird was the worst part of it, but that was the ghost her mind chose to haunt her with in every still moment right now, rather than the almost two deaths she had witnessed, one at her own fiance’s hand and the other by her father-in-law’s atrocious bravado.

So she went. Lady Zselyke wanted to discuss some of the details of the wedding party –unavoidable. The wedding itself was being carefully managed by the planner, but the party afterwards was supposed to be planned by Nasimiyu as a first show of her critically important role… as the royal party planner.

Annoying.

Nasimiyu put herself into a dress that already had a tricky seam on the verge of ripping, intentionally, so she could do so after an acceptable period of time and excuse herself to have it fixed. That was something Dulce had taught her early on –Nasimiyu could recall it in vivid detail: shortly after they’d finished fucking, Dulce had gone to get her trousers and a heavy ball had fallen out of her pocket and emitted a horrible stench that drove them both coughing from the room. A literal stink bomb. Laughing, Dulce had explained one should always plan an exit, though it was regrettable, she had not intended to use it with Nasimiyu. At least not that day.

Always plan your exit.

Even from an romantic entanglement?, Nasimiyu had teased.

Always.

Nasimiyu frowned at the maid who stepped ahead to open the door of Lady Zselyke’s parlor. Babs. She had Babs, hated that name, hated how overly eager the woman was to do the things Nasimiyu wanted ahead of her even asking. She didn’t like maids who acted like she was a cruel or unfair mistress when she really tried not to be unreasonable. She tried to treat them kindly. For example, when they had all looked horrified about who she would take on the hunt with her since it wasn’t going to be Dulce, she’d decided to take none of them. Kindness! It wasn’t like she wanted to be there either, but she needed the respect of the king and that nightmare military brother of his. 

Anyway she had strongly believed Seokjin would beg off anyway and then she would decline the invitation without him… but he’d bloody gone! And shot nothing and nearly killed someone. What sort of man took credit for a stablehand’s shot? Not that she was going to point that out in the moment.

ANNOYING.

Nasimiyu sat across from Lady Zselyke in the elegant, tastefully decorated parlor. So much of the palace was ostentatious but these rooms were slightly less so.

“Did you decorate in here?” Nasimiyu asked when Lady Zselyke had said nothing, only watched with her hands folded, clearly waiting for something.

“I did.”

“Did you decorate the rest of the palace?”

Lady Zselyke’s lips gave a tight tremble before she answered, “Some… it’s largely set by the late Queen’s tastes and the King’s though, and the King requires me to uphold it.”

“That’s a shame. You have lovely taste,” Nasimiyu said. Then, realizing it would be easy to read an insult to her royal in-laws from what she’d said, she appended, “I just mean–”

“You don’t have to excuse flattery towards me. I appreciate a discerning eye. The Queen had other interests. The King has other talents.” She said it in such a coy way that Nasimiyu wanted to recoil from; it sounded sexual. As far as she knew, there was no sex between these cousins, but the gutcheck made her tread a bit more cautiously. She wondered what Dulce would make of that idea…

“Well soon it will be yours to redecorate the palace as you like,” Lady Zselyke mused, looking around her room as though trying to picture it with Nasimiyu’s style. “Will you make it look very different, do you think?”

“Do you mean like home? It would take a monumental effort to make this Privan palace look Marvonese.”

“You will have all the money and workers you could hope for at your disposal. You could make this palace look exactly like… there.” The word sounded loaded, like a single syllable conveyed all Lady Zselyke had to say about Marvonese style. In short, she didn’t like it.

Nasimiyu felt insulted and said archly, “It ought to reflect the convergence of mine and Seokjin’s styles, don’t you think? Where is it you spent your childhood, Lady Zselyke? I don’t think it was here, was it?”

“Sartia.”

“Is that what this style is? I’ve never been to Sartia.”

“I don’t think it would be to your liking, since you don’t like the sea.”

Nasimiyu found it interesting Zselyke knew that about her. She had certainly never admitted that to anyone except Dulce. It made her wonder if Dulce and Zselyke had gotten close. She certainly didn’t know everything Dulce had gotten up to. She couldn’t be trusted after all; maybe she was fucking the king’s cousin to get information, who even knew with that girl anymore?

“Sugar?” Lady Zselyke offered

“No, thank you. The tea here is already so sweet,” Nasimiyu quickly intervened, reaching for the tea cup Lady Zselyke had poured. 

“You don’t like sweet things?”

“Not particularly, no.”

“The world runs on sweet things,” Lady Zselyke said, which Nasimiyu didn’t even pretend to understand. Her face must have shown it, because Zselyke clarified, “Any party must have sweet things. The nobles here prefer them. If you mean not to have sweets…”

Nasimiyu’s nose crinkled before she decided, “Why don’t you just choose the sweets for the wedding party then. That’s what we’re here to talk about, right?”

“Yes, we need to, I’m afraid we’re woefully behind schedule, especially if you have any grand ambitions.”

“I really don’t.”

“You should.”

“I’ll be honest, Lady Zselyke, I love attending parties, but I do not love planning them,” Nasimiyu said because she might as well be upfront about it.

Lady Zselyke looked aghast and argued, “You must learn to love it then, because it will be the most important thing you do as queen.”

“I hope that’s not true.”

“The delicate balance of maintaining power by managing the nobles– do you think Seokjin will do that?!” Zselyke screeched at her.

“He’s… charming, isn’t it?” Nasimiyu tried. She had not expected this cousin to shout at her and it caught her off-guard.

“Charming my left foot!” In her anger, she yanked up the teapot and refilled Nasimiyu’s empty cup and seemed to have forgotten Nasimiyu didn’t like sugar because she spooned some right in as she continued to berate, “Do you mean to say you won’t learn these skills and plan to let the social structure of the palace just die? The nobles here expect a certain schedule of entertainment! When important guests arrive from other places, they must be tended to! They–”

“It’s not that I don’t recognize how important it is,” Nasimiyu assured her, lifting her cup. Her own mother had certainly never yelled like this and she didn’t know what to do about it. It ought to fill her with rage but she was genuinely just stupefied. “I just don’t…”

“Like it?!

“Well no, not the planning part. I don’t have any talent for it and you do. Do you like doing it?”

“It is one of the most sacred tasks I’ve had since coming to the palace after the late Queen passed. Her taste in decor may have been questionable but she threw marvelous parties and I knew I needed to carefully maintain that so that her death wouldn’t pitch the nobility and thus the country into absolute chaos.”

“Well if you like it and you’re good at it, why don’t you keep doing it?” 

Lady Zselyke’s brow knitted as she explained, “Because I will not be here.”

“Why not?” Nasimiyu set the tea cup down without sipping it, intending to ask for a new one without sugar.

“Because… because you will be queen and not want an older woman here interfering with your work…” Lady Zselyke had stopped yelling and suddenly looked uncertain. “You did not know I would be sent away?”

“Who would send you away? Not I.” Nasimiyu did her best to look sincere about it. Honestly she had no love for this stuffy older woman but it hadn’t occurred to her that Zselyke would be gone. She saw at once how dismal it would be to take on the things Zselyke already managed. Dreary enough that enduring her was likely worth it. Besides, she managed Dong-gun and Seokjin to a degree, and even Dong-suk. She knew a great deal. Maybe it was at least worth keeping her around until they were gone. Nasimiyu couldn’t see Zselyke supporting her as queen if the Kim men were dead, and she might not want that, but… she might. Zselyke might do it, if she didn’t think Nasimiyu had any hands in the deaths. Regardless of her personal feelings about Zselyke, she knew things, she seemed actually quite good at what she did. That could be useful.

Lady Zselyke was watching her with unmasked confusion now and clarified, “You would not make me leave? Queen Soon-hee did the moment she married Dong-gun.”

“Why?”

“Well, that… that’s not something I can know…” she instantly fumbled out, clearly hiding some truth or at least suspicion. “It’s tradition, though. A queen mother will be sent to retire in Sartia and I am almost like a queen mother.” As soon as she said it, she looked like she regretted it. 

Nasimiyu grinned. She felt like she had just found a very pretty knife.

“I think you are too,” she agreed. “In a good way. I can’t imagine running this palace without you, it never occurred to me I would need to. I don’t want to. I refuse.”

Zselyke’s light skin turned a fascinating shade of pink, like she’d sat in the sun too long.

“Oh! But…”

“Maybe if the King retires at some point to someplace nice like Sartia, you would want to go with him, but I expect he will remain on the throne for a long time even once Seokjin and I marry.”

“Yes, you won’t be queen but you’ll be the crown princess which is the same thing in the absence of a queen,” Zselyke countered. 

“I don’t think tradition should dictate what we do when it’s not… convenient. I don’t see why you should be sent away or robbed of the duties you enjoy just because I’m here.” She mindlessly picked up the teacup again. “I can easily see a world where you maintain your status here and oversee the things you care so much about and are recognized and appreciated for it, which frees me up to attend to the things I care about –like supporting Seokjin, for instance. Raising his children.” She suspected Zselyke would struggle to accept an ambitious political princess just yet.

“He does need a great deal of support,” Lady Zselyke said slowly. “The kingly duties don’t come naturally to him…”

Nasimiyu smiled and nodded, agreeing, “He can learn with a wife nudging him along, and King Dong-gun can rest easier seeing his son take his future role more seriously.”

“Two women have never run the palace together before,” Zselyke said. Her words seemed to be poking at Nasimiyu, trying to find a lie or a threat.

“Women in Marvono know how to work together and rely on each other. I very much want to rely on you, Lady Zselyke. I wouldn’t dream of replacing you. Your balls would be a crucial loss to Priva!”

“I…” Lady Zselyke blinked rapidly at her, heavily stained eyelashes leaving residue on the tops of her cheeks. Clearly none of this had occurred to her.

“Together we can keep the Kim line respectable and strong, don’t you think?” Nasimiyu suggested as her finishing move. She lifted her tea cup to take a dramatic sip.

“Oh dear!” Lady Zselyke gasped, lunging forward. “You don’t like sugar! I put sugar in there! Let me trade that for you.” She wrenched the cup out of Nasimiyu’s hand in the blink of an eye and set it hastily on another saucer. “I think eventually you will need to take over these things from me… but maybe not… and in the meantime you can learn from me. It doesn’t seem you’ve been trained in any of these types of things. Things must be done very differently in Marvono…” She sloshed a little tea out of the cup in her haste to pour Nasimiyu a new one.

The door flung open before Nasimiyu could respond and in strode Mindeulle. Nasimiyu did not miss the way Lady Zselyke’s face hardened, despite Mindeulle’s bright smile and polite curtsy.

“I’m so sorry to intrude, but I’ve been looking for the Princess. Might I have a word?”

“Why don’t you join us?” Lady Zselyke offered instead. “We need to discuss wedding plans and then you can have her.”

“It will only take me a moment.”

“It can wait, I’m sure. Have a seat.” There was an edge to Lady Zselyke’s words that got Mindeulle to promptly do so. “Sugar?”

“No thank you,” Mindeulle muttered as Lady Zselyke poured her a cup. Servants fluttered in at a snap of her finger to refill the pot, which was getting low. Flowers and leaves danced inside the glass pot, briefly mesmerizing Nasimiyu.

“We are discussing Nasimiyu’s elaborate wedding party and what will best capture the deep love she and Seokjin share.”

Do we? was on the tip of Nasimiyu’s tongue. She didn’t say it, but Mindeulle gave her an amused smile as if she had, which gave her a start.

“I’m sure it’s going to be beautiful,” Mindeulle said.

“The wedding of a century,” Zselyke agreed. Nasimiyu did not understand why Zselyke sounded so defensive about it, unless this was just her enthusiasm about remaining here as a royal party planner showing through. “Seokjin has told me to spare no expense, he wants the world to understand how deep his love and devotion to his bride are.”

“That’s lovely,” Mindeulle said.

“It is,” Zselyke agreed.

The fact they hated each other seemed very obvious to Nasimiyu and now it was her turn to smile. If they both remained in the palace with her after she married, that would be perfect. The two of them hating each other would make them eager to be her most trusted and relied upon, and she could trust they would never join forces to work against her.

It amused her to watch them politely bicker as more details of the party were discussed; Mindeulle seemed just as eager for it to be perfect and her own suggestions seemed to rile Lady Zselyke into even grander plans. Nasimiyu would have been happy to eat her olive and thyme biscuits and let them have at it and giggle through whatever resulting wedding party they planned but the door opened again and in came Lidmila.

“It’s a regular party isn’t it? I didn’t plan for this,” Lady Zselyke murmured as Lidmila curtsied and sat in the final chair at the table without being asked.

“I apologize for my unexpected arrival. My parents are here but I wanted to find the Princess for company instead. Is it all right if I join?”

“Yes yes of course. What business do your parents have here?”

“I don’t know, to be honest. Something with the tax collector or the city planner?”

“That seems like business for your father, not your mother,” Lady Zselyke said. 

“Sometimes my mother helps with those things, I think…”

Lady Zselyke shook her head at this and sighed, “It’s quite a business, being a wife.”

“Have you never regretted not marrying?” Mindeulle asked, a twinkle coming to her eye that hooked Nasimiyu’s attention.

“Heavens, no! Of course it’s a high calling to be a wife, however…” Lady Zselyke looked embarrassed by her answer and like she wasn’t sure how to respond. “I’m sure you will all make good little wives. My hands are quite full supporting the King.”

Honestly, did she hear herself? Probably Dulce could find out in an instant what the real relationship was there but Nasimiyu was not sure she wanted to know.

“But what will you do once Nasimiyu is queen?” Mindeulle asked. “You won’t be needed here anymore.”

“Actually I’ve asked Lady Zselyke to stay and support just the way she does now,” Nasimiyu quickly interjected. 

Lady Zselyke gave Mindeulle a smirk and agreed, “Of course I have accepted. Nasimiyu recognizes the value of this work and her own untrained skill for it so it will be an honor.” She dumped a spoonful of sugar in Mindeulle’s drink and poured more black for Nasimiyu. Lidmila had not yet touched the cup on her saucer, Nasimiyu’s discarded sugared tea from earlier, now gone cold.

“Oh, I don’t like sugar in my tea,” Mindeulle said. “May I have a different glass?”

“Dear, I forgot. Well it’s only a little bit of sugar,” Lady Zselyke dismissed. 

“I’m sure we can get a new tea cup,” Nasimiyu laughed. 

“I don’t mind sugar and I didn’t add any to mine. Why don’t we trade, Mindeulle? It’s a little cold though,” Lidmila suggested, passing hers across the table.

“Don’t be silly, that’s a perfect way to get sick.” Zselyke tutted and blocked the pass with her hand, nudging both cups back towards their original owners. Nasimiyu could not make sense of such crazy behavior but thought it was rather funny. Lidmila and Mindeulle seemed briefly mystified and set their cups back in their sauces.

“I’m not very thirsty. I’ll have a cookie instead,” Mindeulle decided. She nudged her tea setting closer to Lady Zselyke to make room for a plate, helping herself to several different pastries from the trays in the center.

“I’ve had enough tea and I can assure you I’m not ill,” Nasimiyu offered, pushing her cup closer to Mindeulle. “I’ve taken no sugar so you can have my cup.”

“Oh, there’s sugar in mine after all,” Lidmila realized, looking into her cup.

“Have you tasted it?” Lady Zselyke asked her, her voice rising so abruptly in pitch it startled them all. She pounded her chest and couch delicately into a napkin. “Did you like the tea? How much did you try?”

“I haven’t yet. Is it very special? Is it better to taste it without sugar then?” Lidmila considered.

Lady Zselyke nodded and reached for the cup, insisting, “Yes, you’ll like it better without. That’s the Princess’ old cup. We’ll get you a fresh cup.”

“I do like sugar and sweet things though, is it bitter? I don’t mind that it’s cold for a first taste so it won’t burn my tongue.”

“Try it without,” Lady Zselyke insisted, snatching the tea cup away from her. She went to set it on her own saucer but paused, hand hovering over hers and Mindeulle’s cups now right next to each other. 

Nasimiyu laughed, “It’s like a game. I’m not sure which is yours anymore, they’re all mixed up. It doesn’t matter though does it? I’m sure we’re all healthy here and close companions can share a tea cup.” She hoped it would encourage a sort of bond between the group to begin forming. Lady Zselyke was older but not old. It would be good to have some close companions who weren’t all younger than herself. She could learn to like Zselyke, probably.

“Oh nonsense, we don’t have to go so far as trading tea cups,” Zselyke immediately intervened. “We need another setting!” she called to the servants with a clap of her hands. “Take these three away,” she commanded. “And bring a fresh bowl of sugar, Miss Lidmila likes her tea sweet.”

Lidmila giggled and pointed to the full sugar bowl, insisting, “I don’t need more than that in my tea!”

“If you like sweet things, I think raw sugar will taste better than this refined stuff,” Lady Zselyke told her. “Minor details matter. A subtle change can have a great impact, it’s an important lesson for young ladies.”

“My brother says the same thing,” Mindeulle chirped.

Lady Zselyke looked down her nose at Mindeulle and insisted, “I don’t think we need to talk about your brother’s words to young ladies. There is more to discuss than men.”

Nasimiyu reached out to grab Mindeulle’s hand, fully expecting her to launch from the table. She did not, just stared at Zselyke so blankly that it felt menacing.

“Like Nasimiyu’s wedding! Oh, but that’s to a man…” Lidmila mused with a thoughtful frown. It was endearing. Nasimiyu found herself chuckling under her breath. Honestly she would have expected to find someone with Lidmila’s innocence obnoxious, but it was actually refreshing to be around someone so sincere and good-intentioned. Nasimiyu wasn’t used to those sorts of people. Lidmila might be one of the only truly good people she had ever met. Simple, but good.

Mindeulle must be on that list too, though the sharpness of her mind as she gradually revealed it made her seem less doe-eyed about the world. She too had that air of enthusiasm as she pressed Lady Zselyke on what else she was thinking of for Nasimiyu’s wedding, and if she intended to plan the honeymoon too. There was an edge to her Nasimiyu liked a lot.

“What do you mean by that? Of course I will, if you’d like me to, Nasimiyu darling.”

“You suggested Sartia before–”

“But you don’t like the sea, so… hm, I will think on it,” Zselyke said.

“You don’t like the sea?” Mindeulle and Lidmila both parroted.

“It’s all right. Maybe I should take Seokjin to Marvono instead…”

“Maybe you’d like Therepin more,” Mindeulle suggested. “It has the elegance and beauty and splendor of Sartia, but no seas.”

Zselyke looked repulsed and gasped, “Therepin is no place for a honeymoon!”

“Why, because you don’t like the government there? I’ve never honeymooned but I don’t think government is very involved…” Mindeulle tittered. Lidmila’s face opened up in surprised laughter and Zselyke seemed angry. “None of us have honeymooned, maybe we should ask someone else to plan it.”

“I am quite capable!” Zselyke scowled. “Less taunting me and more eating, girls, it’s important to keep our strength up until supper.”

“But our figures…” Lidmila pointed out.

Zselyke gave her a gentle smile and assured her, “You have nothing to worry about. And Therepin adheres to no such beauty standards, so Mindeulle’s prospects won’t be upset by some extra padding.”

“Not that I care about my weight, but why would I look for a husband in Therepin?” Mindeulle countered. 

Nasimiyu ate her cookies and felt like this was all rather a lot of fun, watching the back and forth. Dulce would hate this, but she found it amusing.

“I suppose your brother and parents will, regardless.”

“They take into account my wishes. They’ll let me choose the partner I want.”

“Will they?” Zselyke pressed and it seemed so pointed, Nasimiyu could tell she must know something and be taunting Mindeulle with it. She wanted to know too –not to taunt, but just to know. 

“What does that mean?” Nasimiyu intervened as Mindeulle looked troubled. “Do you have a personal tragedy, Mindeulle? You don’t need to say at the table but if you’d like to talk in private– if there’s anything I can do to aid you–”

Mindeulle pressed a hand to her flushed cheek and insisted, “No, Princess, there’s nothing. Lady Zselyke only speaks in riddles to make it sound like she knows more than she does.”

“Didn’t you come here to find a husband? To Priva, I mean?” Lidmila suggested, perhaps in an attempt to help. “There are so many men here who I’m sure would be honored by your attention.”

“I came with my brother,” Mindeulle said simply, even though Nasimiyu vaguely thought she’d heard Mindeulle mention before she wanted to marry here and remain. Hadn’t that been a hope she had for the ball? She couldn’t recall clearly now.

“Well you certainly aren’t going to find a husband spending all your time with your brother and Seokjin,” Lady Zselyke scoffed. “They are related and taken. I suspect your parents will call you home soon for a match.”

“Not if I don’t wish to marry,” Mindeulle countered. “You have never married, Lady Zselyke, and you spoke moments ago about it as a burden. Surely you had your reasons?”

Lady Zselyke filled their tea cups and said airly, “I did. There are many types of love which are worthy of a life’s devotion. Your devotion to the prince is admirable but inappropriate now that he will have a wife.”

“I–!” Mindeulle gasped. She looked quickly to Nasimiyu and insisted, “It’s not that, I promise. He is like a brother to me!”

“I know that,” Nasimiyu assured her. For all she knew, Mindeulle did have a crush on Seokjin, but it failed to trigger any jealousy in Nasimiyu. There didn’t seem to be anything adult about it if it was there, more like childish admiration. She hadn’t witnessed a single ambitious attempt, nor did Seokjin act any way towards her but brotherly. “I’m sure Lady Zselyke didn’t mean to be a gossip,” Nasimiyu admonished, arching her eyebrow at the older woman smirking to herself as she served Mindeulle more tea.

“Oh yes, I meant nothing by it, except that with men, you can never be too careful. You will have to curb your closeness with him so that it doesn’t cause… problems,” Zselyke scolded as she dumped a heaping spoonful of sugar thoughtlessly into Mindeulle’s tea. “I’m sorry I ruffled your feathers. Have some tea and settle down about it, have another pastry.”

“You’ve put sugar in it again,” Nasimiyu said, deftly reaching for Mindeulle’s tea cup and handing over her own. “Mine has none, we can trade.”

“You don’t like sweet things,” Mindeulle said. Nasimiyu found herself surprised each time the people around her knew things about her she had not explicitly told them. It made her feel very special and admired and flattered her into insisting,

“It’s not a hard rule. My lips are plenty puckered by now, some sweet on my tongue may be a relief.” 

“No, the tea is much better without that refined stuff–” Lady Zselyke said, rising from her seat and reaching for Nasimiyu’s cup.

Lidmila suddenly kicked the table hard and cried out, “Ah! My ankle got caught in my skirt and I’ve hit my shin…”

The flurry of commotion was all startling enough that Nasimiyu put her cup down, laughing, “Is there alcohol in the tea? Why is everyone so clumsy suddenly?”

“There is certainly nothing like that in the tea,” Zselyke sniffed. “But if you tire of it, I can bring coffee or wine or juice or–”

“Nothing else, thank you,” Nasimiyu dismissed.

“She’s right that the raw sugar is better though,” Lidmila said, still rubbing her leg beneath the table as she lifted her saucer and passed it over. “Let’s trade.”

“I really don’t mind.”

“You are going to be queen, Nasimiyu, you should let those around you take care of simple things,” Mindeulle insisted. So Nasimiyu was shamed into trading teacups with Lidmila, who looked adorably proud to have made the swap and settled herself with the apparently less-desirable white sugared tea. 

However before she could even have a sip, Lady Zselyke reached for a pastry but her dragging sleeve managed to upset the whole sugar bowl and Lidmila’s tea cup.

“Oh goodness,” Zselyke gasped. “I’ve made a mess of my own tea…” She gave Nasimiyu the kindest smile of their acquaintance so far and laughed, “Maybe the tea did get us all a little drunk! It’s only flowers in there… maybe it’s the talk of weddings going to our heads!”

The table was soaked now though, they’d all logged themselves with unsweetened tea, and the pastries were going stale. Nasimiyu thought everyone seemed relieved when she suggested tea come to a close for now, and promised to meet with Zselyke again the next day to resume their wedding chat, and suggested Lidmila take a turn with her in the garden, and Mindeulle too if she wished.

“I would love to, but I really only need to ask you a question and then return a letter to my parents,” Mindeulle said as the three women left Zselyke’s parlor. 

“That’s right, you said you needed to speak with me.”

“Yes… privately, if that’s all right? It’s about… some private business,” she murmured, glancing at Lidmila. “I hope you understand.”

“Of course. Why don’t I meet you in the garden, Princess? Have your servant bring a parasol though, it looks like it might rain.”

“Don’t you need one too then?”

“Oh… maybe I can share yours? I didn’t bring one…”

“I’m sure we can,” Nasimiyu said, or else she would bring another, or they could find someplace else to walk, it really wasn’t a big deal. Lidmila seemed content with this plan and flitted off, hopefully not to wander out into the rain before Nasimiyu arrived. She was sweet but perhaps not the brightest.

Mindeulle insisted on leading Nasimiyu into a room with a closed door before she admitted, “I’m sorry if I seem so cryptic, but I’m looking into this mystery with my brother and Çiğdem.”

Nasimiyu instantly cringed and suggested gently, “Does your brother know? He may not want you poking into his personal affairs…”

“So you think he did it then?” Mindeulle caught.

“I don’t know but…” Nasimiyu thought of Namjoon fucking Dulce at the masquerade ball. “I don’t know him well enough to say anything regarding his relationships with women but I think we can all move on.”

“We can’t move on. You saw how Lady Zselyke treated me at tea, and she’s not the only one.”

“You think it was because of that? I suppose that comment was rather… barbed.” 

“Lady Zselyke already dislikes me and Namjoon because of the trouble with the Prince’s former fiance… but he has you now, that can be behind us. But this… this wasn’t him either, I’m sure of it! And now the families here want even less to do with us because they think my brother has a habit of leading women on, which he most definitely does not! He’s been framed both times and I intend to figure out who’s doing it.”

“I think you should let it go,” Nasimiyu admitted.

“But we’re being ostracized.”

“Does he care about something like that?”

“No, but… but I do. If society here shuns me I’ll have to go back to Therepin. I want to stay here.”

“I’ll protect you and your reputation, it doesn’t need to be tied to your brother’s.”

“You don’t believe me and won’t help me,” Mindeulle frowned, taking a step away.

“I didn’t say that, I just think…”

“Çiğdem’s family are not kind people. They aren’t the sort of people I want as family enemies. They are going to make you choose and if I can’t prove my brother is innocent, you’ll have to choose them.”

“I don’t have to do anything.”

“There are politics here you don’t understand yet,” Mindeulle said. When Nasimiyu shifted unhappily, Mindeulle hurried to add, “Only because you are new here and you aren’t used to these families. They are sensitive and vengeful. The only reason they haven’t outright attacked us yet is because it means admitting Çiğdem was writing letters to a man, so they’re trying to figure out something else to pin on us.”

“I’m not interested in their petty accusations–”

“But if you anger them, they will interfere with your marriage,” Mindeulle insisted. “They’re powerful enough to do it.” Mindeulle paused and seemed to think about what she said, then shook her head to clear it. “I need to clear my brother’s name. Please let me at least try.”

Nasimiyu sighed and conceded only, “What help are you asking from me?”

“I need the letters from Çiğdem. So I can compare to my brother’s handwriting and language and prove they aren’t his.” Nasimiyu had to admit that was a good plan.

“What makes you think she still has them?”

Mindeulle looked stunned and nearly laughed, “Why wouldn’t she? Don’t you keep every letter anyone has ever written you?”

“No one has ever written me letters,” Nasimiyu admitted. “Is that strange?”

Mindeulle seemed to think it was very sad.

“Well… I believe she has them,” Mindeulle insisted. “I bet even though she’s angry, she still has them. She might give them to you if you ask.”

“I’m not that close with her.”

“Or if you ask Lidmila to ask for them, even better.”

“I don’t know…

“But Lidmila will do anything you say, she worships the ground you walk on.”

Nasimiyu had to admit that seemed true. So in the end, she agreed to try. 

And as Mindeulle predicted, when Nasimiyu brought the subject up of investigating things herself with Lidmila as they strolled through the warm summer rain under a shared parasol, Lidmila readily vowed to try, too –no, to succeed! It wouldn’t be easy but she would convince Çiğdem to let them see the letters under the guise of Nasimiyu wanting to understand Namjoon’s sins for herself. Lidmila admitted Çiğdem seemed to be having a hard time letting go of it all and probably would be eager to share.

All the moving of social chess pieces left Nasimiyu exhausted by the time Lidmila left with her parents and Nasimiyu could finally flee to solitude. She tossed the parasol to the ground and slipped off her damp shoes as soon as she was through the door. She’d take a bath to get that humid sea-city slime off her skin, she decided, and called for the maids to draw the bath.

As she moved around her room undressing, trying not to notice how quiet it seemed in here lately without Dulce emerging from the shadows to slide into the bed or bath with her, she began to notice things. Little things, small things that someone without her eye for detail might not: her gowns twisted in the wardrobe in a way she nor the maids would ever leave them; her shoes lined up too perfectly when she only ever lazily kicked them off; the papers on the wrong side of the desk from where Dulce had sat writing a coded message to send to Prince Hamisi (Nasimiyu sure hadn’t touched them since then), obvious because Dulce was left handed and scratched things out hunched over the right corner of the desk like someone who’d barely learned to hold a pen.

Had someone been here? 

She didn’t like that feeling. It didn’t just scare her, it angered her, this idea that someone had come into her room –somehow, despite the guards posted outside. She looked around herself, trying to determine what someone had been looking for, what they might have found, though there weren’t secret things to find. The letters from her mother were nothing but that, nothing notable in them. She didn’t think any of her jewelry was missing, at least none of her favorites. What else would they have taken?

“Did you girls clean in here today?” she asked as she shed her clothing for a bath. The two maids looked at each other, uncertain how to answer. “If someone did, they didn’t do a very good job. My gowns are tangled up in the wardrobe.”

“We’re sorry, Princess,” they quickly said. “We’ll fix it right away.”

Well, mystery solved then. Nasimiyu sank into the bath and washed it all away. 

The palace was stifling.

Seokjin had almost killed a man.

Taehyung had almost been killed too.

He had to get out of here. Hiding in his room with the comfort of his fur babies wasn’t enough, but Jungkook wasn’t on duty so Seokjin couldn’t pull off his disguised anonymous jaunt into the city. It would be too much for him right now anyway. He needed to be alone but not alone… he didn’t have a solution for that.

Muhtar followed him at a bothersome distance, not quite far enough, as he set out for the sea wall. The sun was setting, drawing some touristy crowds to admire the vibrant hues brushed across the cloudy sky, but for the most part the people of Priva did not find a regular sunset anything remarkable. They saw this every day. They had other things to do.

Seokjin, however, still found it remarkable. He hoped the day never came that he forgot about the miracle of a sunset, how the air itself became orange and red and that honey warmth seeped into your skin. He paused once a respectable distance from the palace to take it in.

And then saw her.

He should keep walking, he knew immediately. He had no reason to approach. She sat there, legs dangling recklessly over the edge, face cast towards the sun and a hood on so that he shouldn’t have even recognized her. He could not have explained how he did. And he’d been avoiding her for days now! Muhtar was with him; he didn’t trust any of his bodyguards to keep his secrets the way he trusted Jungkook, and sitting to enjoy the sunset with the maid of his fiance was one of those things that deserved to be a secret. The last time he’d seen her, he was fucking said fiance. The last time he’d spoken to her, she’d been furious. 

He should keep walking.

He fully intended to keep walking.

He eased himself down on the ledge beside her, careful not to lose his step and plummet to his death because that would just really be the icing on this shit-cake day.

She didn’t even glance at him, as if not surprised at all. Maybe she’d somehow sensed him standing behind him. She so rarely seemed surprised by anything.

She had looked surprised when she walked in on him and Nasimiyu.

“About what you saw…”

“I didn’t see anything,” she said, voice a low murmur weaving through the aggressive crash of waves against the rocks. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

So it would be like that. Yes, that was for the best.

“I only see the sunset,” she told him.

“It’s a good one.”

They sat in silence for a while. Gradually Seokjin’s mortification settled into a dull hum in the back of his mind, beat away by the waves. That experience seemed fake. Nasimiyu seemed fake, his engagement seemed fake. Certainly less real than the hues streaking the wispy clouds dawdling over their heads.

“What’s your favorite color in the sunset?” he asked. She didn’t look at him, but he could see enough of her profile to watch her brow pinch. 

Why, why was he so desperate to reach out and smooth it down?! She was just some woman. It didn’t make sense. He barely knew her at all, as she had made crystal clear. Why was it so easy to think of a thousand things he wanted to say to her, and equally easy, for once in his life, to say none of them and simply sit there watching the sunset?

“Pink,” she finally said. He’d forgotten the question and gave her a confused look. “I don’t seem like the kind of woman who likes pink?”

“I like that it makes my hair look pink,” he told her. “I think I’d look really good with pink hair.”

“Your hair doesn’t look pink.”

“A little bit.”

“Not at all,” she insisted, so seriously as she looked at it that he couldn’t help the laughter. 

It died quickly as he noticed the bruise on her cheek, the bandage on the side of her neck.

“What happened to you?” he asked, quickly turning towards her, reaching only to hover because he had no right to touch her.

“Hm?”

“You’re injured!”

“Oh. Accident in the laundry room,” she said, lifting a hand to her cheek like she’d forgotten all about it. He thought he saw the shadow of another bruise on her jaw and resisted the urge to turn her face and confirm.

“What the hells happened in the laundry room?!”

“Everything is fine. How was the hunting trip?”

He didn’t answer, torn now between the dread of what had already happened and a desire to not be shaken off from her injuries. He wasn’t sure she was telling him the truth. He hadn’t heard of an accident in the laundry that had caused serious harm to a maid. If there were safety issues, they needed to be taken care of immediately! 

“What happened in the laundry room?” he tried again.

“How was the hunting trip?”

He narrowed his eyes. She stared a moment, then turned her gaze out at the sunset in a way that made clear she would not be answering his question. 

“You know,” he shrugged. “It was… unpleasant. It’s good you didn’t go along today.”

“Might have been better than the laundry room.”

“No.” He thought of Dulce witnessing what had happened. Or, worse, Dulce being involved with what had happened. He didn’t say anything more, uncomfortable with imagining it. A horrible thought came to him, of his uncle somehow figuring out that Dulce was… notable to him. She’d be in grave danger, he was sure of it. A princess had some protection from a sadistic uncle-in-law. A maid had none. He glanced back at Murtah, worried his own bodyguard might report this to his uncle. Could anyone be trusted? Murtah was older, kind, formal, serious. He looked up and down the seawall, always on alert. 

“I don’t think it’s safe for you to go hunting down there,” Dulce said, a rush of words he hadn’t expected. He raised his eyebrows at her unexpected concern. “It’s too easy for an accident to happen. It feels like it was designed for accidents.”

“Nowhere is safe from accidents. Apparently not even laundry rooms.”

“Your joke makes it clear you’ve never been in one,” she muttered.

He had to admit, “No. Are they dangerous?”

“Yes. But a hunting party in the caves is particularly dangerous for you, I think. You’re the crown prince. You’re never safe.”

“I have a bodyguard,” he said, jerking his head towards Murtah.

“He doesn’t look very good.”

“He is.”

“He’s not even listening to our conversation to know I insulted him.”

“He’s discreet,” Seokjin argued. “He’s like you, he’s not reactive.” Dulce scrutinized the bodyguard like a duel partner, then looked back out at the water. The wind tangled in loose strands of her long hair and danced it around her face. He wondered how wild it would look if she let the hood down and her braid out. It seemed to want to curl around her neck; a perfect ringlet had formed and he had that intrusive urge to reach out and tug it. The hood made her look particularly beautiful. 

Brooding. He’d meant she looked particularly brooding.

He felt so calm right now. It was strange, he’d come out here hoping to feel that way but not expecting too. The nervous energy that had kept him restless all day got washed out to sea with each tug of the tide below. It was almost embarrassing for Dulce to see him all calm. He had an image to uphold, after all. Funny, energetic, charming.

He was tired.

“Have you ever been fishing? What’s your favorite fish?” he asked, deciding to make an effort.

“Are you ever just silent– nevermind,” she said quickly. Then, “My apologies, sorry.” He wasn’t sure that she’d ever apologized for being blunt before and was surprised to see her cheeks darken with a flush.

“What?” he laughed. “Say what you were going to say. Am I ever just silent? Not really, even when I’m alone I talk to myself.” Her lips tightened. “What does that face mean?” he laughed. 

“It’s just my face.”

“No it’s not. Are you… blushing? About what?”

“I am not,” she snapped, scowling at him, and in any other lifetime he would have grabbed and kissed her right then. He couldn’t explain it. She was so put out with him.

You want to kiss her. You need to get and stay away from her. He knew that was true. He understood this clearly in a way he had danced around for days now. Weeks? He didn’t know how long but he knew he wanted to kiss the bruise on her cheek and the one on her jaw and her fingers and that this feeling of his would get her fired at best. He couldn’t think of the worst.

“You’re quiet when you fuck, that’s what I meant,” she suddenly said, tearing her gaze away from his and crossing her arms. “Maybe that’s the only time.”

“I thought you didn’t see anything,” he cried, now his turn to blush a bright red. Here he was contemplating the tragedy of this woman bringing out the romantic in him when nothing could ever come of it and then she had to wallop him in the face like that.

“I didn’t hear anything either, that’s my point.”

Now silence enveloped them again, a less happy one. Seokjin didn’t know what to say. The thought of having sex with Nasimiyu made him want to run away screaming. Not a great foundation for a marriage but one he was going to have to work through, just like he was going to have to keep distance from Dulce, and neither thing seemed possible right now. 

No, he could do it. He would. He was the crown prince, he did tons of things he didn’t want to simply because it was his duty.

He wanted more than a duty marriage with Nasimiyu.

He needed to squash these feelings about Dulce immediately.

“I didn’t mean to criticize,” she murmured, glancing nervously at him. Probably because he was staring. She had a very pretty profile. He bet she would hate it if someone pinched her chin but it was perfectly pinchable. “Nasimiyu speaks… highly of your time together.”

He grabbed for the lifeline she’d thrown him and laughed awkwardly loudly, “Oh, lovely. She speaks of it?”

“Brags, more like.”

He knew he should be flattered. A small part of him was. 

“Yes, well, good. What can I say? I have many talents and pleasing women is one of them.” Dear gods what was he saying?

“I don’t need to hear that. When I said you don’t know me, I didn’t mean we should get to know each other,” she said. 

He laughed, flat out laughed, “Dulce, why are you so mean?”

“I… sorry. It’s been a long day.”

“Yeah for me too but I’m still my pleasant charming self. You wouldn’t believe the day I’ve had. I almost watched my father kill another of my friends. It was the shittiest hunting trip you can imagine.”

“Did you shoot anything?”

“I almost killed another of my friends, does that count?”

“Taehyung?”

“No… what made you think of him?” She shrugged. “No, Master Drin, my arms masters. His horse reared and threw him in the path of bullet right as I aimed at some mysterious creature in the woods that didn’t deserve to be shot at in the first place. Sliced the back of his head open but he lives.” The words poured out, a tirade meant to make her laugh even though it wasn’t funny and he didn’t even mean it to be funny. His laugh cracked as he repeated, “I almost killed someone today.”

“People die.”

“Come now.”

“People die in hunting accidents all the time,” she said again. “That’s what I meant by you shouldn’t go.”

He grinned and nudged her arm without thinking about it, teasing, “Are you worried about me?” She stiffened and he immediately leaned away. Oops. 

She didn’t comment on the physical contact, just asked, “Have you never killed anything before?”

“I’ve shot ducks.”

“A dark stain on your soul.”

“I see their eyes every night before I sleep,” he joked. “I remember their names.”

“I don’t,” she said thoughtfully. 

“Killed a lot of ducks, have you?” 

“A few.” She said it so seriously, he couldn’t decide if she was joking or not. That made things she said even funnier, when he genuinely couldn’t tell. He had an inkling she did it on purpose. He wondered if Nasimiyu knew that about her.

“We’re still talking about ducks, aren’t we?” he teased.

“What would we be talking about?”

“Didn’t you grow up on a farm? I don’t think I have the guts for it.”

“I didn’t tell you that,” Dulce said sharply and Seokjin felt a ridiculous victory at very clearly having guessed something correctly about her. “I seem like a farm girl to you?”

“Is there anything besides farms in Paloma?” Her eyebrows raised and he snickered, “Oh no, did I just insult you?”

“You don’t know anything about Paloma.”

“No but I know you grew up on a farm.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Your reaction gave it away.”

“I don’t react,” she insisted and he felt laughter bubbling brighter in his chest. He had the playful childish urge to knock her over and wrestle now, to crow about his victory.

“You’re wrong. You have very big reactions, if you know what to look for.”

“I do not.”

“The more you deny it…”

Her face twisted in what seemed like a fake rage. She kept her mouth pressed tightly closed and stared at the sky now sliding to purples and blues. What she said earlier might seem right, that darker colors suited her style more, but he loved knowing now that she liked pink. 

“I hate farms,” she said, possibly the closest to a confirmation he would ever get. He didn’t think it was a joke. There was an air of sadness to her voice that seemed shockingly sincere. 

Or was he projecting it all? He realized that was possible. He might be sitting here feeling like their hearts were stitching together in a way that was going to hurt very much when he stood up, and she was sitting there thinking what a nuisance he was. It wasn’t like she said or did anything that hinted at feelings for him. She endured him. Humored him at best. She had no choice. The power imbalance was real and he’d be a fool not to remember that his company might be less welcome than Namjoon’s –which she may have loudly hinted at before.

He stared out at the water, debating. He should leave her alone. He knew that. Everything in him knew that. But he didn’t want to just yet… could she endure him for a few more minutes? That was the least guilt and horror he had felt all day. He had almost killed Drin.

“You didn’t kill him.”

“Wha?”

“You didn’t kill the man so you shouldn’t let it haunt you. Even if you had, accidents happen.” 

He stared at her, eyes wide, stumbling over the words, “How did you–”

“I won’t reveal my methods.”

He was struck dumb for a moment, astonished at her acuity. Could she read minds? Oh, he’d be so fucked if she could read his mind right now. The threat of her seeing what kind of man he actually was –the kind who developed affection and desire for their fiance’s maid– was  horror beyond belief.

Just to test it, he thought of some really crazy things. Six foot tall rabbits and a throne made of spaghetti and a giant fish leaping from the water to swallow them and carry them down to meet the king of the sea. She did not seem to read those thoughts.

“If you don’t want people to know what you’re thinking, don’t think so loud.”

“Don’t listen,” he countered. Which clearly brought her up short. She gave him what could only be characterized as a scandalized look, then stared out again at the sunset as if it was the most compelling thing she had ever seen.

He still felt like she was listening. Worse, he felt like he could talk to her. He felt like she could say anything and nothing would surprise him and she’d tell him her direct thoughts, he could count on it. Alone but not alone, that’s how he felt with her.

“I don’t even want to be the cause of someone’s death,” he admitted, verbalizing it this time.

“You’re going to be king. You’ll be the cause of many people’s deaths.” Yep, just like that.

He blew air out and looked down, for a moment allowing the intrusive thought of what it would feel like to just plummet down to the rocks and die. Then he’d never hurt anyone.

“I’ll be a different kind of king,” he tried to convince them both. “No wars, no hunting, no more hunger or… no poverty. I’ll take care of Destin and Paloma and… we’ll just all have good lives reading books and playing games and…”

At least she was kind enough not to tell him what a fucking idiot he was. She struck a nice balance of silence and directness. He appreciated that about her.

“And birthdays!” he said, suddenly recalling. “Is it your birthday soon?”

“What?”

“Is your birthday soon?”

“No, why?”

“Are you telling the truth?” he pressed, leaning closer and scrutinizing her closely. 

She batted him away, revealing bandages on her hand that was quickly tucked back under her cloak despite the warm evening. 

“My birthday is in the winter,” she said.

“An answer! Or close to one. Look how far we’ve come,” he teased.

“Why do you think my birthday is soon?”

“Nasimiyu asked Yoongi to make a Paloman dish and he thought your birthday was soon.”

Dulce considered this before admitting, “Maybe she thinks it is.”

“She doesn’t know?”

“Do you know the birthdays of your servants?”

“Yes,” he answered easily. “Murtah’s is in late August and then Jungkook’s is September first.”

Dulce didn’t seem to know what to say to this. He watched the pensive look on her face out of the corner of his eye, trying not to look like he was watching her. 

“Are your injuries bothering you?” he guessed.

“No.”

“Are you sure? You were hurt at the palace, it’s understandable you should see the palace doctor to make sure–”

“I’m fine.”

“I don’t think you’re fine. You seem…” He couldn’t think of the word. Not that she was usually chatty but she seemed… “Weighed down.”

“So do you.”

“I think I’m my usual charming self.” When she didn’t respond, like she wasn’t buying it, he conceded, “I told you I almost killed my friend. I feel that on my handsome broad shoulders.”

She was silent for a while. He couldn’t tell if she was debating an answer or simply not going to give one. Which was fine. He would like for her to say but it was always unpredictable.

“I think you need to be extra careful,” she said. “You should be more concerned that your bodyguard went missing.”

Seokjin frowned and pressed, “What do you know about that?”

“You don’t think servants notice when one goes missing? You aren’t careful enough. People wish to harm you.”

“Well… yes. I’m the crown prince. That’s always been true and always will be true,” he admitted. “I’ve learned to live without worrying about it. If I die… well, I’ll be dead and won’t care about it anymore, will I?”

Her head snapped up, her face showing how absolutely incomprehensible she found his answer. It made him laugh again, he couldn’t help it. 

“Did you think I’d scream and cry and hide away? I don’t want to die but it happens to all of us eventually. My mother, my brother… it won’t change my fate to sit around worrying about it every day.” He couldn’t believe how brave he sounded about it, although the things he said were true. He tried not to think about death every day. He tried to live as best he could.

“You aren’t afraid to die but you’re afraid to kill?”

“Well see… yes. Yes, that’s about right.” He gave her a bright grin. “I don’t want to, but I can endure a lot. Of course I guess you don’t really endure death, at that point you stop enduring–”

“What is a lot to you?”

“I’m still alive, so I suppose I don’t know yet.” She was taking this so seriously and he felt bad about that. “You don’t need to worry about me. I was born into this life and I’ll die in it too someday. But not today. Some days closer than others but…” He shrugged. “Best I don’t go into the laundry room, I guess.”

She didn’t laugh at his joke and he realized it was a bad one. She’d been badly injured in one. He was inclined to march back to the palace and ask someone working in the laundry what the hells had happened, but based on the last time he intervened in Dulce’s well-being, he suspected she would not be pleased. Did he care? It depended how badly she was hurt… 

He sighed, not sure how to navigate anything. He wouldn’t intervene. She’d made clear she didn’t want him to. He was supposed to be putting more space between them now. He had promised to respect her wishes. Soon he was going to promise to love and devote his whole heart to Nasimiyu.

He wanted to say something but the longer the silence lasted, the less inclined he felt to. She didn’t demand anything of him, and he felt tired now by what he’d managed for her entertainment. Wrung out. This was a long day. He didn’t know what to do about his father shooting at Taehyung. Who was that a warning for? It would take a couple days to bundle Taehyung off to somewhere else since they were arguing about where that someplace else would be; was it better to spend those days in the palace or in an anonymous inn? Seokjin was debating having Taehyung just sleep in his room, gossip be damned.

“I have something for you,” she said eventually.

He immediately realized his gift must have felt like an obligation instead of an apology, especially since it wasn’t her birthday.

He waved his hand, “No, no, you don’t need to–”

“Not a gift. Someone gave me a letter to pass on to you.” She dug around and pulled it out of a bag across her body, looked at it a moment, then handed it over.

“What is this?” he asked. The front was blank, the envelope crinkled from passage. The red seal on the back immediately brought recognition and understanding –he’d recognize the imprint of his brother’s ring anywhere.

“A letter.”

“Yes I managed to figure that much out on my own,” he snickered. He had an idea who it was from, so instead he asked, “How did you get this?”

“Someone gave it to me while I was out walking here and begged me to put it in your hands,” she said. 

“A woman,” Seokjin guessed.

“Yes.”

“Do you know what it’s about?”

“I didn’t read it,” Dulce said. “She didn’t say.” She looked him right in the face as she said this, direct eye contact that made him want to believe her… and yet he had melted and reattached enough seals to notice the telltale sign of staining on the paper.

“Please keep the existence of this letter between us,” he said lowly, tucking it into the pocket on the inside of his vest so it couldn’t be stolen until he got a chance to read it. After which he would probably need to burn it, depending on what it said, and if he was right about the sender. After all this time, he figured she was dead, in which case this letter might be something different. Either way, it was probably something dangerous for Dulce to know.

“What letter?” she asked, holding her hands out to show they were empty. He believed she would keep the secret, anyway, whatever she could actually glean from the contents. “I thought about not giving it to you, in case it’s trouble,” she admitted.

“I’m glad you did. Not every prince is a damsel who needs protecting, you know.”

“I think you may be a particularly reckless one.”

“How many princes do you know? Nevermind, Prince Hamisi, that was too easy. Well, this prince would be happy to walk you back to the palace now.”

“I’m fine. I’ll stay here a bit longer.”

“Is it safe?”

“It’s no laundry room so…yes.”

He was loath to leave her, but at least guards roamed the sea wall and she was less likely to meet trouble here than anywhere else. 

Still, “Will you at least promise to stay out of the laundry room from now on?”

“It’s my job.”

“I can make it illegal for them to put you on laundry duty. I’m a prince. I don’t mind being an eccentric one.” She gave him a baleful look that felt like victory but she shook her head and he wasn’t going to push her. He didn’t want to undo what had felt like progress towards forgiveness.

“Thank you for your company,” he told her with a slight bow. He meant it. The events of the day still troubled him but he felt soothed, despite the fact she hadn’t actually had anything comforting to say –clearly she did not understand the magnitude of what it meant to take, or nearly take, a human life. He was glad of that though.

Murtah shortened the distance between them as they walked back towards the palace so that within a few minutes they were side by side.

“Your Highness.”

“Murtah.”

“This wasn’t wise.”

“I believe you are here to guard, not to advise,” Seokjin pointed out. “I was only watching the sunset.”

“With your fiance’s maid.”

“A coincidence,” Seokjin insisted, then quickly added, “But don’t worry, it won’t happen again.”

“It can’t.”

“No, it can’t,” Seokjin agreed with a sigh. He was projecting an attachment on a woman he barely knew. Was he just frightened by his impending promotion to husband and flailing about for diversion? 

Her bruises and bandages bothered him more than his own troubles, he couldn’t stop thinking of them.

The safest thing for them both was not to get close enough to notice them next time.

Maybe Taehyung wasn’t the only one he needed to find a safe, cushy place for, far from Priva. How much money would it take Dulce to go away and not tell Nasimiyu why?

Yes, that was the answer. Money. See? Seokjin was already thinking like a king.

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[kyouka-supremacy]

Ask game can you do kyouka

Yay Kyouka!!!

Favorite thing about them: HER EXISTING. The fact that she's one (1) fleshed out female character and for one I will love her for that. I also generally really like the trope of little girls facing unimaginable horrors and defeating them, it gives me hope. The fact that she was able to get out of an abusive environment by her own forces is very inspiring, too. More Kyouka love words here.

Least favorite thing about them: I feel I'm cheating at this with always mentioning things that are really not about the character but rather about the way they fit in the story but... I'm very disappointed when the author flat out forgets about her. 55 Minutes and the whole airport arc. I've said it before but I really wish she would have intervened during the Atsushi / Akutagawa airport fight because what were she and Yosano and Lucy doing the entire time. In general, I wish we'd see her more outside of her relationship with Atsushi which I LOVE but that is starting to feel quite limiting of her right now.

Favorite line:

Eheh. It's been this blog title since day one. It's just that crepes is one of my favourite desserts too but most of all I really appreciate the feeling of carrying on living even if it's just for the small nice things in life. I may be worthless, and with no right to breathe; but crepes still make life worth living. I appreciate the sentiment. Ss/kk should learn from her it'd spare them a lot of trouble lol

brOTP: I LOVE LOVE LOVE HER RELATIONSHIP WITH ATSUSHI. It's really one of my favourite things. I think Kyouka is about the only person Atsushi truly cares about beyond his own selfishness and it's really heartwarming. They make each other's lives better every day and comfort each other that they're good people capable of doing good. I also think Kyouka really helps Atsushi in the way she's so blunt and straightforward, she helps him overcome his insecurities and second-guessing everything; she's a reassuring presence for him because he knows she wouldn't lie to him. And Atsushi allows her to be a child, and it's so sweet!!! They need each other in a lot of ways and they're so perfect for each other. Platonic soulmates fr. I also really like her relationship with Kenji, that too is so wholesome, I'm happy she has someone her same age she can do 14 y/os things with!!! Oh and I LOVE her relationship with Lucy, they're so much fun in their low-key animosity but I like to think they truly care about each other and that Lucy fully took Kyouka on as her annoying little sister she wouldn't hesitate to die for. AND the potential of Kyouka and Yosano, AND Fukuzawa. AND Akutagawa and Kouyou (more as like, relationships to explore rather than think they'd actually get along). I think about Kyouka's relationships with other characters a lot lol.

OTP: You know I'm fully convinced I would have been a full flagged Kyouka/Kenji supporter if only they were a little older, but the way I can really only think of them as children kinda makes it hard for me to say I ship them just because personally I don't really like to imagine them in a romantic picture in general (个_个) It's a shame because again I know what I like and this kind of sun/moon coded het ship is something I would have been really into ;;

nOTP: Likely Kyouka and Kenji for the reasons mentioned above :// It's just something I noticed I'm not very into when it's brought up in ss/kk fics. That said, it's not like I have any strong feeling against it either.

Random headcanon: About that, I really like to think she and Kenji are going to be partners when they're older.

Unpopular opinion: Not sure this goes here but right now I can't think of anything else– I do think that in the early chapters of the manga there was some level of writing Kyouka like she was Atsushi's love interest. Overall I think the manga verges way less in the “siblings” direction than the “eventually couple to-be living together” direction than the fandom makes it to be (I don't think they were ever directly associated to siblings in the manga, like, ever? I don't remember Atsushi ever saying he sees Kyouka as a little sister or something in those lines). Which I personally do not like, but in my reading interpretation that's the direction the manga was going for. That's why the chapter 15 opening is extremely distasteful to me, it really feels like pushing forward the stereotype of little dainty young house wife waking up early to prepare breackfast for her husband... And the way we know she's so young makes it downright disturbing. (But again, that's only as far as my understanding of the manga goes, feel free to disagree with me on this).

Song i associate with them: Shinkai Shoujo by Yuuyu-P!!!! It's just so her, both in the girly j-pop vibes and lyrics. It literally talks about a girl sinking in the darkness but managing to find the light in the end :')

Favorite picture of them:

Favourite panel from the manga:

Favourite illustration:

Favourite illustration in the anime art style:

Favourite Mayoi card:

Send me a character?

#This was a great idea because it feeds my primal instict to look at pretty images #kyōka izumi #bsd #mine #people asks me stuff #Thanks for asking <333

[multifandomslxt]

BLACK ROSES Pt.5

Pairing: Mafia!Lee Jeno x Florist!Reader

Trope: Grumpy x sunshine

Genre: Dark Mafia Romance

Word count: 1.4k

Synopsis:

Lee Jeno is a dangerous man. From going on k!lling sprees for fun to torturing and k!lling his own father. He does it all. In short Lee Jeno is the devil.

Y/N is a florist. She's as pure as they come. Nothing exciting ever happens in her life and she’s okay with that. In short Y/N is an angel.

He was bad and she was good. They were complete opposites.

…Or so they thought

Get your tissues for this one. It's gonna be one hell of a ride

Warnings for this chapter: mentions violence, panic attacks, Trauma, scars etc. Jeno is obsessed.

*((((A/N: words in bold are her conscience and words spoken in Korean are in italics ))))*

taglist: @scuzmunkie @devinitysann @luvrboyjeno

@painted-hills @mings-cafe

DM ME IF YOU WANNA BE TAGGED<33

FLOWER OF THE DAY: The Hibiscus. They are the symbol of positivity, joy, and cheer. They can also mean good luck and wealth. They can be kept as a personal “good luck” gift. Or given to someone who needs some positivity in their life.

“No! that’s not fair!”  I screamed in exasperation.

“Flower, I’m not cheating. I promise you it is a word.” Jeno said with his eyes twinkling in amusement.

We were currently in his office playing Scrabble.

We sat on opposite sides of his work desk.

I know, I was bored, okay?

This is the third time he’s won and I’m getting annoyed.

“Finifugal is not a word.” I argued. What the hell did he take me for?

He looks at me and smiles, his eyes making crescents “It is though.”

I kissed my teeth and lifted my self out of the chair making a mental note to google the word later.

“I’m finished playing.” Since all he wanted to do was cheat, I’d leave.

He threw his head back and laughed at my disgruntlement.

“You can end the game Flower but you’re staying with me today.”

I rolled my eyes at his bossiness.

The man hadn’t let me out of his sight since I told him about the scars on my back.

That was 2 weeks ago.

And over said 2 weeks I got my phone back.

Yay.

“I’ve been under your nose for 2 weeks already.” I complained.

“Exactly, so what’s 2 more?”

I squinted my eyes at him but sat down anyway. “I’m bored and I can’t do anything with you always watching like that”.

He arched a perfect brow “Why not?”

I huffed and crossed my arms “I just can’t!”

He leaned back in his chair and smirked with a mischievous look in his eyes “Is it because I make you nervous flower?”

Just like that the atmosphere became heavy and thick with tension.

Sexual Tension.

I gulped and looked away from his gaze “You’re an asshole”.

Fuck.

Why the hell does he have to be so annoyingly hot?

I squeeze my thighs together at the inappropriate thoughts passing through my head.

I must’ve been doing a shitty job of hiding it because next thing I know he speaks.

“Is there something wrong princess?” He says lowly.

His head is tilted slightly and his eyes dark, enough for me to know that he knows exactly what’s going on.

“Everything is fine.” I rush out.

I rather die than let him make a fool out of me.

My attraction to him is not something I want, so I’ll ignore it.

“What did I tell you about lying to me Y/n?” He grunted out.

I shut my eyes tightly trying to shut him out.

Although, the heat pooling between my legs proved that my methods were not effective at all.

“Come here.” He spoke out to me.

I peeled my eyes open and met his gaze.

I could see him fighting the little restrain he had left.

Good, I won’t be the only one suffering today.

“Come. Here. Now.” He said calmly. His patience must’ve been wearing thin.

I got up from my chair and made my way around his desk settling right in front of him.

He had pulled his chair back and was now looking at me with his legs spread and a dark look in his eyes.

“You’re killing me” He was angry. Furious even.

I said nothing. Too afraid that I would give in to his addicting self.

I stood for what felt like hours under his heated gaze.

I watched him clench and unclench his jaw in some type of anticipation.

In the dark confinement of his office, I realized…

We were waiting on each other.

Unconsciously making a bet.

‘Who will be the first to crack.’

“I want you.”

Those three words were uttered in such desperation.

Those words were uttered by the one who cracked first.

It was me.

I held his gaze completely unfazed by my abrupt confession.

He says nothing for a moment.

But even then, I could tell by his eyes,

He wanted me too.

 Maybe even more than I wanted him.

“Before we start anything Flower, I need you to know that there is no coming back from this. After this I won’t be able to give you up or let you go.” He says sternly.

I expected to have my mind filled with questions, but it seemed for once my heart and mind were on the same track.

I wanted Jeno.

I wanted him Now.

“Do you understand?” Jeno continues oblivious to the fact that I already had my answer from the minute he walked into Izzy’s flower shop.

“Yes, I understand.” I said without missing a beat.

“Good. Now, strip and get on the table.” He says gruffly.

 My body buzzed in anticipation.

I wanted him to break me apart and put me back together again.

Something told me that’s exactly what he was going to do.

Soon, I was naked and sat at the edge of his table.

“Such a fucking good girl.” He smiled and looked at me.

My heart soared as he praised me.

“I want you to do something for me okay?”

I nodded my head eagerly.

I can’t wait to feel him inside of me.

“I want you to touch yourself.” He rasps.

I didn’t object but I didn’t move either.

I suddenly felt sick.

‘Touch yourself for me Dove’.

“No” I whispered.

“If you aren’t comfortable with that you can tell me flower.” Jeno’s voice pulls me from my thoughts.

His eyes held sincerity.

“I’m sorry.” I said ashamed. This went horribly wrong.

“You don’t have to apologize baby”

He was still seated but his belt was undone.

He hadn’t touched me yet.

 I wanted him to.

I needed him to.

But I was scared.

‘Look at you trying to get rid of me already. I’ll never let that happen Dove.’

It happened so fast.

First, I felt nauseous.

The marks on my back started to itch.

Then they started to burn.

I dropped to the floor in excruciating pain.

I could hear Jeno’s voice in the background calling out for me.

“Flower? What’s wrong?’’ Jeno questioned alarmed.

I’d never heard him like that before.

I’ve never heard him so scared.

I tired to answer but my throat felt like it was closing up.

A vivid image of my brother’s face smiling down at me caused me to cry out.

“Y/N!” Jeno called out in alarm. He must’ve gotten up some time ago because felt his hands holding my bare waist.

“GET A DOCTOR IN HERE NOW!”

Was someone else in here with us?

‘This is what happens when you don’t listen Dove.’

I watched as the vivid image of my brother start to choke me.

I couldn’t breathe at all.

My hands clawed at my throat trying to pry my brother’s hands off me.

“Fucksake! Y/N breathe!” Jeno shouted.

I couldn’t.

“Breathe dammit!”

I was going to die.

”Y/N! Don’t you dare close your fucking eyes do you hear me!”

Suddenly, I was floating.

No, I think Jeno was carrying me.

He was running.

My eyelids felt heavy, and my limbs felt weak.

“Y/N please”

It must’ve been raining because I could feel the drops of rain on my face.

I smiled drunkenly.

I’d always wanted to die on a rainy day.

Then I realized, as blurry as my surrounding were I knew these dark halls.

We were still inside.

Rain doesn’t fall inside so how did I feel raindrops on my cheek?

My half-closed eyes looked up at Jeno.

As blurry as things were it was hard to miss his clenched jaw and watery eyes.

And before everything went black I realized,

It wasn’t rain, it was Jeno.

“Flower, you can’t leave me”

He was crying for me.

#nct doyoung #nct127 #nct mafia au #nct imagines #nct reaction #nct wayv #nct x reader #nct smut #nct au #nct fanfic #nct fluff #grumpy x sunshine #dark romance #nct reactions #nct lee jeno x reader smut #nct dream #lee jeno #nct johnny #nct x y/n #nct scenarios #nct jaehyun #nct taeyong #nct taeil #nct haechan #nct renjun #nct mark #nct u #nct 127 #nct yuta #black roses

[phoenixtakaramono]

I believe Cheating Men must die is a great story

It adds wonderful twists in existing tropes and genres. The protag isn't perfect but she's great, she likes eliminating assholes, which is valid

It's also interesting how Su Luxia doesn't have an identity issue since she lives under so many identities but I guess she's hardened for the job

For everyone who hasn't read Cheating Men Must Die (comic "Wan Zha Chao Huang" (万渣朝凰) by Shi Dai Man Wang (时代漫王)), this is an open invitation for y'all to read it. Genre: quick transmigration, revenge story. Basically your ex-cannon fodder MC, Su Luxia, is a System agent who transmigrates (isekais/ world hops) into the bodies of women of each world who are wronged by the Male Lead, Female Lead, another canon fodder, author, etc and changes their fate. I forgot how many chapters of the manhua there are presently but I believe the freshest ones that are still being updated in Mandarin Chinese are over 700+ chapters of art. (The MTL offers English translation, but y'all can also peep at other sites for ENG fantranslations.)

There are a couple of different summaries but I love this summary the best:

Don't you think that all cheating sc*m need to die? Su Luxia, an intern pro working in a transmigration agency, doesn't believe in that. For her, all cheating bastards need to rot in hell before they die. Or else they won't suffer the taste of their own medicine! Using elaborate means, she beats up countless cheating bastards and b*tches. Su Luxia sneers... "People take everything they get for granted. The more they get, the more they don't strive for it. An unrequited love is an example. There is always a sc*m who takes advantage. Since they brought this upon themselves..." She studies her face in the mirror and smirks, "... let them have a taste of their own medicine." System: "You're making that scary face again!" Follow our female main lead, Su Lüxia, who is bound to the Female Lead Counterattack System and transmigrates to several small worlds beating up countless sc*m.

Art bait for y'all who are still hesitating (and some of my favorite arcs, and those that'd surprised me like the arc where she transmigrated into the Second Male Lead):

RE: I have to agree! Ty for the Ask, @bernkastel11! I had a response ready for ya the day I saw this in my inbox and literally typed a long essay with links, but lo and behold tumblr ate it. 😭 But finally I have the motivation for a take 2. Honestly the manhua is a guilty pleasure of mine. The art's great (we definitely see the artist improve over time with each arc...even with the obviously borrowed assets and sometimes janky perspective, hahaha) and I love how Su Luxia is a badass femme fatale (white lotus & green tea b*tch), as well as her friendship with her cute talking hamster System. I also love how the artist is giving variety; it's not all just kicking butt, chewing bubble gum, finding romance. She's become an empress, made a friendship with the exorcist Female Lead, become a mother, led revolutions, survived a death game, became a guy, made a Male Lead yandere and obsess over her to the point of trying to hunt her down in whichever world it is, has some...questionable sapphic overtones, transmigrated into a BL novel, revisited some worlds with reoccurring characters, etc. They satirize a lot of preexisting tropes, and I love it when artists and writers have fun with the meta. I also like how they're slowly expanding on the lore of her interest with previous System agent Zero (the whole reason why Su Luxia became a System agent).

"It's also interesting how Su Luxia doesn't have an identity issue since she lives under so many identities but I guess she's hardened for the job"

The thing about QTs in general is the artist or author usually don't put much emphasis on the consequences of transmigrating so many times into other people's bodies. It's just a staple of the genre (because they're usually portrayed as badass, cunning, and OP, what have you with a strong willpower to assume all these identities, overcome challenges, and not experience dysphoria). So far I think the only writer I can think of off the top of my head that addresses it is: The Exhausting Reality of Novel Transmigration (novel / manhwa). I highly rec it. So far it is one of the few works where they explore that concept of how mentally exhausting it is adopting another person's identity as well as the consequences of "the characters" finding out (it's not your usual "oh, you hopped into my dead daughter's body and assumed her identity? Well la de dah, guess you're my daughter now." No, we're talking about the mother suspecting, finding out, being horrified, and having a mental breakdown trying to exorcise "the evil spirit" who's taken possession of her daughter's body). It also touches on the danger of an ordinary woman transmigrating into the body of a Female Lead in an R18+ novel where the Male Lead is a yandere.

Since you'd mentioned CMMD, I can give you several other links:

Cheating Men Must Die animated audio version of the first few arcs (King of the Phoenix), comes with ENG subs

Mission in Parallel 2022 Chinese short drama (it's the late 1910s socialite arc where she transmigrates as the overweight nightclub owner & wife of the abusive husband who gets seduced by a singer who's also a transmigrator), comes with ENG subs

Cheating Men Must Die (2022)(it's the arc where she transmigrates into the world where she's the villainess and the CEO Male Lead is self-aware, and the author has signed with the evil System trying to kill off Su Luxia so that she herself can transmigrate into the body of her own FL), comes with ENG subs

#cheating men must die #manga rec #The Exhausting Reality of Novel Transmigration #reading recommendations #ask #ty for the ask <3 #bernkastel1 #it's so nice to find another CMMD enthusiast; usually I'm the one reccing CMMD to everyone else hahahaha #phoenix talks