#It's a good strategy of not hurting myself in more violently ways...

[givemeasword-callmequeen]

Instead of hurting myself, I just cut my hair, when I feel the scratch to hurt myself

[verryberriess]

Whatever This Is | Chapter 1

READ PROLOGUE HERE!!

Whatever This Is

Synopsis: In which Jude and Cardan meet again after seven years, but not on good terms.

thanks to @maastrash for helping me edit LOL!!!! :D

CHAPTER ONE

The last time I saw Cardan Greenbriar was seven years ago.

Today, seven years later, we were a mere few feet apart. I’m unsure whether to feel relieved or insulted at his lack of acknowledgement. Relieved that maybe he has forgotten my face and I could continue along with my life, undeterred and unaffected as ever. But insulted, because, maybe he has forgotten me.

“Are you ready to order?” The cashier startles me. I didn’t realize that the line had suddenly quickened in pace. He must be new, since I haven’t seen him around the Torre’s until today.

Thankfully, I respond with my usual order without thinking. The cashier nods and I fumble my purse in search of my wallet. I’m able to quickly spot my cyan-colored wallet and unbutton its strap with haste, fishing for my credit card from the compartment with my nail. The card is stubborn, in a tight space stuck to two other cards.

“Sorry,” I look up and flash the cashier a tight smile, embarrassment coloring my features.

The cashier responds in turn, his green eyes alight in amusement. “It’s alright. That happens to me all the time.”

I immediately return to the war against my card, which finally relents. I slam it into the card reader, chip in first. While the payment approves, I smile and say, “Thanks for your patience,“ peering down at his name tag to add, “Beckett.” He is handsome and new, and on another day I would try to get to know him, but I am in a hurry, so I walk from the bounds of the register and head straight towards the door outside.

The door swings open in response to my adrenaline and haste. I curse inwardly at the crowd outside of Torre’s that seems to have gotten even bigger. As I mutter “Excuse me’s” and sidestep around the large number of people, I inspect the streets for an absurdly tall head of iridescent midnight hair. I am quickly astonished to see that exact head right in the middle of the large crowd, showering the thrall of excited women with a crooked smile.

Cardan stands in the middle. While he keeps his hands at his sides, his posture is loose and his torso leans in to angle himself for a selfie with another woman. The woman presses her back into Cardan’s again. He doesn’t seem bothered by this at all.

I zero in on the changes in his features. He has gotten taller, his face more angular. His style has been perfected, dressed in a dark suit and decorated in gold rings and darks and blacks while the midnight black hair atop his head seems unruly and untamed, as if on purpose. All these years and he seems to have perfected perfection, looking more horrifically beautiful than ever. I have forgotten this obtrusive charm I had once been fooled by, and even after all these years I am disgusted at myself for still being reigned in, captivated.

But all of a sudden, for a few seconds, he turns his head away from his surroundings and regards me with his eyes, looking as if he were noting my presence with the same disgust, and then quickly looking away. The exchange was so quick, I had barely registered it.

Yet, as I stand at the outskirts of this group, I am reminded of the past, and how I have gotten over this already. I have replayed scenario after scenario of reunions in my head after the first few months of my departure, but I had never really anticipated some overly-large crowd separating Cardan Greenbriar and I by just a few feet.

A few feet that might as well be an ocean. Or two.

I can’t help but marvel at how we were once more than acquainted with each other. That look had reminded me that everything is over, that he wants nothing to do with me. Seven years could be more, if I refocused myself. I could do that, I reminded myself. Seven years could turn into forever.

A twinge of sorrow worms its way into my gut. I squash it.

I turn around. My coffee must be done by now and I want to head to work before I’m late. I suppose the sidewalk will take some weaving around and being late was not on my agenda.

My steps are forward. I make my way back to the door of Torre’s, pulling open the door to step in.

But a familiar voice, ringed with the same distinct tone of arrogance and authority that I haven’t heard in years, ceases any of my movements.

“You need to back up.”

My grip at the handle falters, and another person shuffles out on the other side. They thank me for holding the door for them.

Instead of responding, I turn back around and face the direction of where the voice had called. The atmosphere feels almost different. Where the women had once been gathered around him, they now stand at a distance, clearing for the space he had requested.

I watch one of them snap a quick selfie while he is in her background. She leaves the group right afterwards. My eyes move back to where Cardan is, but he is walking towards my direction, uncaring of the people around him.

I pull the door handle hurriedly and slip inside into the safety of Torre’s. The chatter and ambiance of the coffeehouse usually offer safe haven from San Francisco’s morning bustles, but not today.

I could feel his looming presence right behind me, about to catch up to my stride. I’m not about to do this right now. I don’t think I can.

The choice is ripped away from me, however, when a gentle grip takes hold of my wrist.

“Jude?” The voice is soft, a complete one-eighty from that of authority outside.

I still immediately. I first turn to check the surroundings, discovering that none of the women from outside have followed him in. Then, I glance at the hand which still grips my wrist. I try to shake it off. Cardan’s hold is firm, but he reluctantly lets go. He removes himself slowly as if he is unsure whether or not he should.

Taking a step away, he stands and shifts awkwardly. He is too tall now, absurdly towering over me. Where he used to be only about an inch taller, he is now a few inches above my height. He is no longer able to slouch against me without adjusting himself as easily anymore.

The distance between us is off-putting. Though traits like his height and broadness separate us physically from our past selves, it is the other changes in our approaches and personalities that further highlight the obnoxious tension between us.

Why he suddenly acknowledges my presence is a mystery to me. Why he is here astonishes me. I am unsure if fate is cruel enough to have forced us to meet in this kind of circumstance, or if this was a making of pure coincidence.

Cardan stares at me with some deep intensity. I want to be rid of his scathing stare, grab my coffee, and disappear from this whole ordeal. Pretend that this stain of an encounter had not been inked upon seven years of spotless script.

“Cardan,” I say stiffly. Once acquainted, but now strangers. I am hesitant to say more, despite all the questions that rage within my mind and my wickedly cursed heart. Everything about this is full of uncertainty and unpredictability. A type of situation that I am not entirely familiarized with, since plans and strategy have always ruled my life. It is frustratingly tiresome.

Cardan eyes the row of occupied couches, and later the arrangement of empty rustic tables and chairs. He gestures out to the seats, “Why don’t we find a seat? I imagine that we have much to catch up on.”

I secretly consider his offer, but my brain votes to think of ways to escape his reach. Before I can make a decision though, I am led away to an open table. I am reluctant to make this encounter any longer than it should be, but I decide that I should at least gain some reasoning for his recent presence.

“I’m glad you’re so eager to see me again. After all, it’s been so long.” Cardan resumes his usual nonchalant character. “What an extraordinary coincidence running into you here.”

For a moment, I remark on his wording. I am glad that this turned out to be an occasion of pure coincidence.

Concern or indifference? I decided on the latter tone to respond with. “Yes, it certainly has been a while. But considering how we left things, I’m surprised that you even want to be near me.”

He raises an eyebrow and the corners of his mouth lift slightly. “Considering how we’ve left things, I’m surprised you’ve let me into your vicinity.” It doesn’t look like it, but the small twinges in expression reveal that he is thinking of what to say next. I am about to retort back, but what he asks next catches me off guard as he continues, softly, “Why did you leave for so long?”

My cheeks heat. At this, I am suddenly hyper aware of how close he is, of his overwhelming heat despite the violent cold that rages outside, and how he almost whispers his question, with a compelling mix of rasp and seduction. He towers over me, as if using his height to shield me from the world like he has done so many times those years ago, but in this instance, it feels as though he is also looking for something. Cardan is cautious though, leaving room for retreat.

If I am not careful myself, I imagine that I would fall into his chest, and take advantage of the closeness that I had secretly yearned for nearly a decade. Seven years be damned, my focused mentality would dissolve into dust.

I announce my resolve by taking a step back. The distance between him and I is lengthened. Although my heart curses at me, my mind is indiscriminate. I hadn’t expected this conversation to go about this way. Though, I also didn’t know what to expect. Everything was unpredictable at this point and many things have changed. I didn’t know what response he wanted, because he should’ve known why I left.

“... Because of you.” I say gruffly. I leave little context, wanting him to fill in the blanks.

For a second, a mixture of hurt and surprise leaks into his expression before it is masked again. In that second I can’t help but relish in a small sense of satisfaction that I had got to him. Hurt for hurt. An eye for an eye. Whatever game he is trying to play at this time will not rouse a fraction of feeling from me. Not again.

“I see.” Again, Cardan contemplates. He does not show anything, but his eyes start to roam around us, like he is taking in the coffeehouse setting again as if he wasn’t just here only a few moments ago.

“Excuse me?” The green-eyed cashier from before stands in front of us.

He looks between Cardan and I. Cardan, in turn, twists to the direction of the abrupt voice, and slowly assesses his form. I watch his eyes trail up and down the cashier’s physique, his face contorting in judgement before glaring at him, clearly annoyed by his abrupt intrusion.

Beckett turns to me instead, smiling brightly. His dimples deepen and his white teeth flash to me. He holds out a branded cup of Torre’s. “Hey, Jude right? We called out your name earlier, but I don’t think you heard us. I thought I’d bring your coffee to you before it got cold.”

“Thanks so much, I almost forgot.” I take the cup from him and gently set it down at our table.

“Of course.” Beckett still hovers over us, his attention only towards me. “Andrea told me you were a regular here. I should have known.”

“Yes, I come here often. But it’s okay, I noticed that you’re new here too. And it’s Beckett right?” I ask.

Beckett replies, “Yeah, it’s actually my second day.”

Beckett hovers over us. I notice that he is handsome, with close-cropped blonde hair that is slightly grown out. His green eyes twinkle as he observes me in return. He is well-muscled and tan from what I could see of his arms, which are mostly covered by his gray, long-sleeved uniform.

I take a quick glance at Cardan. His fingers tap the tabletop in a particular rhythm as he watches the exchange between Beckett and I.

“Well, I better get back to work now. If you need anything else, check your cup.” Beckett smiles again and walks away.

I look back at the coffee cup and peer at Cardan who eyes its side, a murderous expression set upon his facial features. His eyes are cold and his jaw is clenched.

As I take the cup in my hands, I inspect the sticker attached to the side of the cup. A phone number written in scrawly blue ink is scribbled onto the light orange sticker.

“​​I didn’t realize hand-serving customers was a part of the job description.” Cardan remarks icily.

“Well,” I clear my throat. “At least he’s done something you didn't have the balls to do seven years ago.”

A/N: i haven't been here in a while... hello! let me know if you want to be put on the tag list lOL

[wisteria-lodge]

bird primary (system in progress) + burnt badger secondary (really loud bird model)

Howdy! I’m still trying to figure out my own houses and was wondering if you could provide some insight. I haven’t exactly mastered the system so I don’t know how accurate/inaccurate my claims are, so bear with me.

The “why”/Primary: I am extremely motivated by knowledge. I want to know things, not just out of intrinsic curiosity (though that does play a role), but because knowing why things work helps me protect myself more effectively.

One of the trickiest things about this system is separating motivation from method. Because yeah, they are related, but they're also really different. Like this example: "I protect myself by learning things." That's a how, that's secondary stuff. (Bird secondary of course.)

A recent example is this— a group of my former friends all ditched me because I discussed a heavily stigmatized mental disorder that I show symptoms of. And my first response (other than bawling) was to ask them why. And when I got the answer, I was hurt, but I understood. I don’t say this for you to show me pity, but rather because it illustrates this model in action.

This is a really interesting example. Your friends acted in a way that emotionally hurt you. First you processed your feelings (which you talk about in a dismissive, lighthearted, jokey way) then you asked them for more information... which hurt you, but also made you more secure. This is very Bird primary. You feel feelings, but they're whatever. What actually bothers you is not having the data.

(I suspect you're going to end up being a Double Bird. And Double Birds are unique in that their morality and problem-solving are SO interconnected, that they think I'm crazy for saying that for most people, they are in fact two very different things.)

When I got the why and processed my emotions, I cut off ties and realized that their severe judgy-ness had hindered my life for 2 years. And now that I know the “why”, I won’t bring up said disorder again until I know it’s safe. It might never be, but I still have hope.

You updated your system, and you cut away the parts that aren't serving you anymore. Bird primary.

Morally-speaking, I am very sensitive to the views of others around me.

External primary.

I’m not proud of this. In fact, it’s a detriment.

A lot of Birds feel this way. It's a big part of why they tend to like Lion primaries. Lions are much more able to dismiss things with "sounds like that's a them problem."

I won’t go into details, but my parents are… bad. Not wholly, but they are bad. I’ve tried for years, and still do, to escape their opinions because I know it’ll influence mine.

Parents are sticky. They do that. I've been a happily UnBurnt Lion primary for a while now... but I still sometimes hear that voice in my head that sounds like my mother.

And, much like them, I tend to get over-passionate in what I stand for. Unlike them, I’m willing to change if evidence supports this change. I always, however, carry the burden of my former hatred. I always feel guilt over my old beliefs. Even if I’ve changed, the pain I’ve done can never be reversed. And this guilt eats me alive, this shame of being fundamentally wrong.

Okay. You got really emotional on me really quickly here. This could mean a couple things. Your parents sound like fairly toxic Idealists, either Exploded Lions or Exploded Birds (I'm sort of leaning Lion due to the more emotion-heavy words like "passion" and "hatred.") Birds can feel bad, feel guilt, feel shame when looking back at an older version of themselves that they now consider morally repugnant. (Birds are human.) Idealists struggle with the angst of worrying that they are fundamentally wrong about the world. So you could be a guilty Bird, especially if your emotions feel wrong or unhelpful somehow. But you could also be a very Burnt Lion modeling Bird - because Bird seems safer, and you don't want to be a Lion the way your parents are.

When the friend-event happened, I thought that I was in the wrong, and that I had once again fucked myself over because of my passion and sureness in what I have.

"I thought I was wrong because I was acting like an Exploded Lion primary." Yeah, I'm thinking there's some sort of outside influence here that needs to be unpacked.

It took a lot of convincing and evidence for me to see that they were the assholes (albeit I wasn’t pure either— I was their friend, after all).

I'm definitely leaning Bird for you. A bird surrounded by Lions maybe, who sometimes uses Lion terminology. But Bird.

I am a planner and system-lover at heart. I’m not proud of it, but it’s just part of me.

What's with all this negative language? Being a planner and a system-lover is a wonderful thing to be. There's some Burning here.

The caveat— I have autism, so I’m not sure if it’s due to that or not. Hence the shortness of this section. Take it as you will, regardless of if it’s evidence or not.

I have autism and I'm a Lion Badger. People are different. The only real pattern I've observed is the way nerodivergent people disproportionately build Bird secondaries as coping strategies.

Honesty is maybe not the best policy, it’s still an admirable one. I wish, frankly, that my moral system was more honest. I feel like I have no set morals. That it all comes from elsewhere. Lion primaries have this set, intrinsic morality that I envy. My friend is a lion primary, and while my views have radically changed, hers haven’t inched. She’s always been honest about herself and what she holds true.

I'm doubling down on Bird primary for you. This is the perspective of a Bird looking in on a Lion. Lion morality isn't set or intrinsic - it's built, and it changes, but it builds and changes differently than a Bird's does (more slowly, usually). But there really is a pattern of Birds seeing it as more moral/easier/better.

And I’m still trying to figure out what “truth” means to me. I mean, yes, I’m a dry and blunt asshole, but that’s not really the same as gut morality. Internal honesty is what I want, and external honesty is what I have to some extent.

It sounds that you are going though a lot of very intense shifts in your life right now. You've got a diagnosis that has you questioning your place in the world. You've followed your parent's system all you life, and are now deciding that you don't want that. But now comes deciding what you do want, and that's a lot harder (especially for a Bird, who has to build it from the ground up.) You like the way Lions do things, but Lion primaries do not feel accessible.

I’m very clear with who I like. I can admit their faults, and even get annoyed or angry at them, but not even betrayal can stop me from loving them. I’d compare myself to the Twelfth Doctor from “Doctor Who” and Ponyboy Curtis from The Outsiders in that regard.

So maybe you are building a system with very Snake values.

Loyalty is one of my weaknesses. I get overly-attached to people, and so if/when they leave me, it shatters my world. But my brand of loyalty is mostly to people, not philosophical ideas.

... but you're not *really* comfortable with Snake either, if you consider it to be a "weakness."

I would consider myself somewhat philosophical (well, as much as a fucking teenager can be)

Teenagers are *extremely* philosophical, stop being so down on yourself.

but I can be somewhat vague in my beliefs.

Because you're still building them, give yourself a *second.*

If I were to rate the likelihood of what primary I think I am, it’s something like this:

Bird: 9/10 probability (maybe burned)

Snake: 7/10 probability

Badger: 6/10 probability (maybe burned)

Lion: 2/10 probability

What is it with Birds and numbered lists?

The “how”: I feel like I change in order to fit in. I mean, to some extent, we all do, but it’s far more drastic for me. With the lion primary friend, I act as a “Jason Todd” to their Batman. I challenge them, egg them on, crack jokes and become violently passionate and act like a nerd, and she simply watches, usually adding her own comments but mostly sitting on the sidelines by choice. We also joke that I’m the Ferris Bueller to their Cameron Frye. But, with another friend, I’m a parent figure. I listen most of the time, and sometimes jump in with creative ideas and we talk for hours about it.

I'm guessing Actor Bird, both because you can specifically list out the qualities that you "act" out. And because you're invoking and basing your performance off specific [fictional] characters. Which is a HUGE Actor Bird thing.

I go with the flow of a given situation as best as I can (with the added caveat of being autistic, because that does affect how well I can read a room). However, that’s where the adaptation ends.

Huh. I'm hearing Burnt secondary language here. "I'd like to go with the flow and read the room - but I can't, because I'm autistic." You can definitely *learn* how to read a room. Why do you think I'm so interested in (and good at :) personality systems? This is how I learned to use my Courtier Badger. I used to model Bird secondary like crazy, and I kind of don't bother anymore. I don't need the training wheels.

Planning: like I stated before, I’m a planner. I try to learn the most about a situation before jumping in. Sometimes, however, I stall the inevitable and miss my chance, so I jump in and wind up nearly drowning. And this dichotomy repeats. I overcompensate for a lack of knowledge in a situation by micromanaging, or I wind up sitting bored when I’ve already done everything I need to do. And yes, stress and boredom are equally as destructive for me. I try so hard to plan to avoid both of these outcomes, but it only works half the time. So, I guess I’m a bit of a “planster” overall.

I want to learn about a situation... but sometimes I "stall" or "drown" (Burnt language.) But planning also leads to "micromanaging" and "getting bored" (model language.) I think you've got a really loud Bird secondary model... but there might be something else underneath.

Collecting things is fun. Postcards, candles, lighters, crystals, rocks, 1940s hats, knowledge, stories, music, (original) characters, the list goes on. I’m a collector of whatever I can get my hands on. Hell, by this point, I can’t tell what’s my special interest and what I just enjoy (again, autism).

Oh my goodness gracious 'my special interest' and 'what I enjoy' are not two different categories!

But my systems and collections are my coping.

Figured.

I can’t say, though, that they hold any weight outside of emotional release. There’s nothing practical about knowing how they shot The Outsiders movie, or how crows have a flat tail and ravens have two main sections on theirs. All of this knowledge almost feels useless to me. I mean, sure, I’m great at school, but what else? Nothing, it seems like. And being good at school and nothing else makes a person go crazy when they can’t achieve their academic goals. But that’s a bit besides the point— I’m a collector, but I’m unsure how well this really fits into a secondary beyond a model.

Bird secondary model.

I invest in others more than I care to admit.

Oh man, are you a Badger secondary like me?

I genuinely believe in the goodness in humans, no matter how impossible it becomes. Even those who I don’t see any good in aren’t wholly evil. My perception isn’t law.

^ That's primary stuff. Maybe a more Badger-flavored system is going to work better for you than a Snake-flavored one.

But some people trust me: with their secrets, with homework, with relationship issues, with their religious struggles. And I try to help. I might not be good with it, but I do try to help as best I can.

Kinda sounds like a Badger secondary.

I use my planning and my categorizing skills and my knowledge to benefit others. I show up, I do what I need to do, and I don’t usually expect much to come of it. It’s nice when something does, but it’s not expected. And sometimes, these investments into others' lives and grades and relationships do pay off. I make friends. Those friends stick by me, and I trust them. I continue to invest in others, because I am a lover even though I’m cynical.

I think you're a Badger secondary.

And when that trust is broken, like the example in the beginning, I go to people who won’t abandon me to get a second opinion. When I say that I love someone, I mean it. So it hurts when they leave. It always does.

Oh that's your friends leaving hit you so hard. It's not an abstract morality thing at all, it's practical. You're a Badger secondary, and they were your base of support.

I’ll be frank on this— I’m almost entirely sure that I’m not a lion secondary. I’m fiercely efficient and some people see me as a good leader, but that’s it.

Lion and Badger are the two Inspirational secondaries. They're the one who sort of manage to collect armies or families as a side effect of existing.

Even with the leader example, I prefer interpersonal relations or to be alone. I’m not a big fan of group settings.

That's fair. I am also a Badger who really, really likes my own company. Or small groups of interesting people.

If I were to rate the likelihood of what secondary I am, it’s like this:

Bird: 7/10 probability

Badger: 6/10 probability

Snake: 5/10 probability

Lion: 0/10 probability

Other systems for comparison: I’m aware that MBTI and enneagram are, at worst, pseudo-science, but I still enjoy them regardless. At best, they’re fun self-help tools, and that’s how I try to use them.

MBTI: INTJ (Ni-Te-Fi-Se)

Enneagram: 5w4, tritype 514

Sagittarius sun libra moon cancer rising in astrology

FLEV or LFEV in attitudinal psyche

sx/sp (sexual and self-preservation) in instinctual variants

MBTI, Enneagram, and astrology are all fun in their own ways. (I don't actually know the last two!) And I can talk about them on their own terms. But this system was the best, and the most useful, when I went looking for words to describe myself.

I hope this is enough information, and thank you again if you do happen to do this! If you don’t, that’s totally okay. Have a good day!

Thank you for writing in. That was a journey! Thanks @thesketchykid for the submission.

[oikawaplssteponme]

okay I LOVE SOULMATE AU'S so imma send two requests cause why not

first one letter d. damage. with bakugou 🥺👉👈 perhaps not entirely like the list but in which the reader feels the pain as well (?) so whenever he uses his quirk the reader feels the explosions!! could be them finally meeting in U.A. (reader in class 1A or they're in general studies whichever you think it's best!) and fluff of coursee

uhhhh I guess that's it for the first one, if you want more details just say so!!! 🤩🥺 I'll send a second ask with the other one 👉👈. 🌺.anon

hi again anon!! i loved writing your requests so thank you for sending them in ☺️💕

~

Damage

pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x reader

warnings: some swearing, mentions of injuries

genre: fluff

a/n: because i couldn’t help myself i had Hatsume make an appearance (i just love her sm hehehe). also i sorta changed it to wear the quirk causes the damage and they can feel their soulmate’s quirk. enjoy xx

•

It started as little shocks. You felt your palms get sweaty, and start to spark. It was a strange sensation. At first, these explosions spurring out from your hands didn’t hurt too much. Then they got stronger by no fault of your own. The residue from these detonations took a toll on your hands. Your quirk had nothing to do with explosions, so why did your body seem to exert this kind of force?

Then you remembered.

Soulmates.

You feel whatever they feel. Whatever kind of damage they go through, you will too.

You assumed that your soulmate had to have some kind of explosive power, and was in constant training. They must be on the track to becoming a Pro Hero, or they had anger issues at the very least.

You were a third-year at UA High. You were in the general studies course, working alongside your best friend, Mei Hatsume, in the student workshop. You didn’t have the flashiest quirk but it was good for what you intended on doing with your life. You wanted to work with Hero’s at their agencies. You were quick with numbers and had a quirk that involved elevated intelligence. So any Hero would trust you with the logistics of Hero work.

“If I have to make that Izuku kid one more of these leg paddings I am going to lose my mind. Plus Ultra does not mean break my babies every two minutes,” Hatsume groaned. You laughed.

“Well, when we have our evaluations you can tell him that.”

“How many students do you have tomorrow?” asked Hatsume.

“I think about ten from class 3A. I finished all of their spreadsheets and costume improvements. Tomorrow I’ll just have to show them,” you explained.

Depending on quirk and commitment, certain students from outside the Hero Course were chosen to provide assistance to those in the Hero course. You were chosen to create advanced training plans, after crunching a few numbers, that will show these future Hero’s what they need to do to improve and stay on track. It was a way to show your skills to hiring agencies as well, as you can take some credit for your classmate’s success.

“I’ve got the rest of that class too for tomorrow. That's why I have to make Izuku these new pads,” she huffed. You chuckled.

“At least you know some of them by name. I barely know their names of mine and I’ve gone to school with them for three years.”

“A lot of them aren’t worth remembering,” joked Mei.

“Well, I’m gonna get some sleep before a long day tomorrow. See ya.” You packed up your things and left for the dorms.

As you were leaving, you looked over at your arm. A bruise began to form.

Great.

Then came the explosions. You would keep our arms out to avoid them from hitting your face and just let the explosions run their course.

“Can my soulmate be calm for two seconds?” You mumbled to yourself before continuing your walk to the dorms.

~

It was the morning of evaluations and you were running down to the training ground to meet your group. Your arms bruised and beaten from your soulmate’s own damage. They were sore as you carried the large stacks of papers. The Hero Course students awaited your arrival.

“Sorry I’m late you guys! I had to make sure I had everything. Okay, so these are your personalized spreadsheets to help with training. Um, who is Mina Ashido?”

“Me!” said the pink haired girl. You handed her the folder. You continued giving each student their specified folder.

“Uh, Katsuki Bakugou?” You called at last. A blond boy with spiked hair raised his hand. You handed him his folder, accidentally locking eyes with him. He had beautiful red eyes. He noticed you too.

Wait he’s cute.

“Oh uh sorry…” you mumbled, snapping back into reality. Bakugou nodded, taking the folder and walking away, his hand on the back of his head.

“So after you’ve looked over your training plan you can feel free to start putting things into practice out here or use the inside facility. Let me know if you have any questions,” you announced. Most of the students went inside, a few stayed and spread out among themselves.

“Hey! Y/N!” a voice called. You turned around to see the blond boy again.

“Bakugou right? What’s up?” You asked.

“Why did you cross this out?” he asked. He pointed to his self-evaluation that you asked everyone to fill out when creating their trading plans.

“Because for goals you wrote: ‘beat Deku’. I don’t know what a ‘deku’ is so I can’t really help you plan for that,” you explained. Bakugou chuckled.

“It’s a person.” You felt a wave of embarrassment.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so stupid,” you sighed.

“It’s fine. Hopefully whatever crap you wrote in here helps me beat him,” he said.

“I can add more to it if you’d like. What’s your quirk again?” you asked, taking the folder from his hands.

“Explosions.”

Your heart dropped to the ground. There’s no way it could be him, after all, lots of people have explosive quirks. What are the odds that you go to the same school as you? You looked down at his folder. There is was.

Katsuki Bakugou. Quirk: Explosions. Using his nitroglycerin sweat, he is able to create powerful explosions from the palms of his hands.

How could you have missed this? Well, you did write most of the training plans while on only one hour of sleep, so the idea of a possible soulmate must’ve slipped your mind.

“You good?” he asked. You nodded violently.

“Yup yup, all good. Do you mind standing over there?” You pointed to the middle of the field. Bakugou did as he was told.

“Okay, uh, blast me one of your explosions,” you ordered. Bakugou smirked.

“I thought you’d never ask…”

Bakugou adjusted his stance and began to fly himself up with his explosions. He blasted himself through the air before landing in front of you. You looked down at your own hands, waiting for something to happen. Nothing did.

“How was that?” grinned Bakugou.

“Pretty good. I calculated better strategies for air dynamics so why don’t you try-”

*BOOM*

You had blasted yourself into the air, imitating the same pattern that Bakugou had just performed. Your hands burning with each explosion.

“SHIT SHIT SHIT- I DON’T KNOW HOW TO LAND!” you yelled. Bakugou’s eyes widened. He ran toward you as you fell back onto the ground, catching you safely.

Your face burned as you looked up at him. He smiled.

“I figured my soulmate would have handled my quirk better by now,” he joked. You sighed.

“You should be grateful that the most damage I’ve done to you is giving you a paper cut.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll take you to Recovery Girl to bandage you up then take you out. How that dumbass?” smiled Bakugou. You smiled back, ruffling his hair.

“Sounds good soulmate.”

•

[general taglist: @lealofsblog @iwaisa @bakugousmymassa @roesaurus @evivn1 @astrooliver @tetsoleil @bokutory @vangoghmusings @moonlightaangel @complimentaryhugsgirl ]

[mbti-notes]

Anon wrote: INFJ here. One thing that I dislike about myself is that I am really avoidant and shy. I can't stand my ground or defend myself or others. I either doubt my rightfulness or worry about the other party yelling, beating me or overreacting. 

I went to a butcher's with someone and the guy prepared us the wrong meat. The quality was a bit worse than the one we originally picked. The guy was still insisting and trying to sell it to us. Me being a pushover, accepted it easily. It was the wrong meat, but the guy had prepared it for us. And the guy could lash out and show a bad reaction. 

However, the person who was with me went and confronted the guy and didn't back down, until the guy changed the meat and gave us the original good quality one. The whole time, I was worried about the butcher yelling at her or saying something hurtful. As we left, she told me to stop being weak and afraid of holding my ground, and learn to defend myself. I wish I were like her, but I clearly lack this skill and can't defend myself or others close to me, because I'm avoidant and confrontation-averse. I either don't know if I have to confront, or I'm afraid of the other person's reaction. I usually just smile and accept things. 

I'm even afraid of driving and refuse to drive because I'm afraid of having to confront people for car-related or driving-related things. How can I improve myself in this manner and get thick-skinned? What sorts of steps can I take before putting myself into a (exposure) situation where I have to confront a potentially aggressive person?

__________________

Not knowing how to speak up for yourself harms you in several ways: 

Low self-awareness: When you aren’t even aware of your own needs, desires, rights, and boundaries, you don’t really know yourself. 

Low self-worth: What is your existence when you don’t even recognize that you and your needs matter just as much as everyone else’s?

Unable to care for yourself: When you don’t recognize your emotional needs or don’t recognize that they are important, you won’t work to fulfill them, which means that you won’t tend properly to your psychological well-being. This makes you more prone to suffering mental health problems.

Unable to protect yourself: When YOU can’t even respect your own needs, desires, rights, and boundaries, it’s a signal to others that it’s okay to dismiss you or violate you. Unfortunately, some people in this world don’t hesitate to take as much as they can from others. They look specifically for people like you because you let them get away with it.

Identify the root of the problem. Everything you think, feel, and do is rooted in fear. You have an overreactive fear reflex that leads you to always expect the worst from people. Do you honestly believe that the majority of people are violent rageaholics? People may get upset but it doesn’t mean that they’re going to attack you viciously. Is there a reason why your view of the world is so negative and extreme?

Fear is an emotional problem, which means that you have to work on your emotional intelligence. You’re trying to be smart by anticipating how events will go, which is natural for Ni doms. However, you only ever see how things could turn out horribly, which immediately activates fear. When your mind is so easily hijacked by fear and its related emotions, how can you think straight, let alone formulate a good strategy for handling a problematic situation?

Avoidance is exactly the wrong strategy because 1) it keeps you passive and stuck in weakness, and 2) you never develop the skills that you need to grow and solve this problem. To solve a problem, the first step is to confront it, then you can examine it and come up with a solution. INFJs who struggle with auxiliary Fe development usually struggle with learning social skills. If your fear and anxiety are extremely deep-seated (i.e. a result of serious past trauma), then it is also a good idea to get professional therapy. Unresolved trauma makes the process of learning new skills more difficult than it has to be, so it should be dealt with first.

When you don’t know how to do something (i.e. incompetency), it’s natural to be apprehensive because you feel like you have no control over anything. Thus, increase your social competency. Having good social skills allows you to think about social situations with more nuance and sophistication, as opposed to defaulting immediately to the most extreme scenario. Social skills are just like any other skill in that you have to study, practice, and improve systematically.

The following skills work together to improve social competency:

Emotional Intelligence: Be aware of feelings and emotions, both your own and others’. De-escalate intense emotions to keep a clear and calm head. Assess situations based on facts rather than fear, so that you can stop treating everyone as a threat and build common ground instead.

Communication Skills: Express yourself and your needs effectively. Respond to other people’s needs effectively. Ask the right questions to clarify situations and avoid miscommunication. Diffuse tension with empathy and diplomacy. Negotiate compromises.

Assertiveness Training: Know your rights, enforce your boundaries, and speak up for what you are owed. Treat your needs and goals as important. Ask for help or support as needed. Develop strategies for expressing yourself in specific scenarios that you’ve repeatedly found difficult to navigate.

Conflict Resolution: Have a strategy for dealing with conflict. Have ways to test how amenable people are to discussion and compromise. Have ways of making reasonable requests without anger or aggression. Have good contingency plans for when situations get out of your control. 

Nobody is born with this knowledge. Most people learn social skills by socializing, making mistakes, and doing better the next time. The longer you’ve avoided natural experimental learning, the worse your skills will be. If experimental learning is too much for you, due to unmanageable fear and anxiety, learn on your own first so that you feel more prepared. There are plenty of resources out there. See the Emotional Well-Being section, the relevant tags, and the resources list for book recommendations on the above topics.

[jeongyunhoed]

Past-Present-Future Black Dahlia

Two major tragedies bring Lee Mirae closer to the edge as she goes through the stages of grief in a more violent manner that would affect not only her relationships with her boyfriend Jeong Yunho and her half-brother Choi San, but also has her becoming closer with the immortal mutant Kang Yeosang. Fueled by rage, grief, and pain, along with a very rude awakening that has Mirae spiraling out of control and questioning everything she holds dear.

Group: ATEEZ Member: Yunho Pairing: Jeong Yunho / OC Genre: Action, adventure, angst, fantasy

Watch Out! : Violence, blood, death, grief and loss, major character deaths, use of weapons, some jealousy (but no cheating ofc), implied smut (not sure if there is any but i’m putting it out there nonetheless), mental illness (probably?), gambling and alcohol

Anything else? : Mentions of other idols of course as well as other characters. SuperM, Dean, Chanyeol, Zelo, soloist Park Jihoon to name a few.

Author’s Note: Again, interesting things happen when you wing it. Look out for a cool fight scene, I think one of the best fight scenes I’ve written if I do say so myself. It was a challenge to write Yunho’s though, spoiler alert. But I hope this chapter brings us closer to a possible conclusion, or at least gives us an idea of how things could end. 

Masterlist

Chapter 7

Yunho could see the horizon from where he stood, feeling the wind come east, swooping by him. This was where the portal brought him. One moment he was at the grounds of the school, and the next he was in this town that seemed deserted, looking like something out of an old western movie. It reminded him of the place where cowboys were, and for some reason, it reminded him of his time in Morocco. 

He needed to look for a way out, or a way back, realizing what he heard. Mirae had refused to join them, out of Ino getting Baekhyun out of the way, out of the fact that they probably wouldn’t keep their promise of getting him and San back to her. He knew what was going on, only he didn’t know how to get out and not even his teleporting might help as he didn’t know where to go. 

Yunho closed his eyes, trying to hear Mirae again in the hopes of reaching out to her. He wondered if her refusing Ino meant that she was back, back to being the person he knew her to be, if she was back to being the person who could only grieve without getting people hurt. 

As he opened his eyes, Yunho felt a strange pounding in his chest, as if he was nervous. The surroundings had changed, at least how the village he found himself in changed, as he could still see the same dirt road ahead. Everything was a lot more colorful, shades of blue mixed in with the shades of rust. The rest of the colors seemed to be in the fabrics of stalls near buildings that were castle-like. 

It was like he was back. Back in the place where his immortality, his mutant gene took effect. The only thing that seemed to be missing were the scorch marks and patches of blood, even his own wounds. 

Yunho remembered the days of hiding out, disguising himself countless times to blend in. But he also remembered the times his teleportation would fluctuate whenever he was hiding in dark street corners at night, unintentionally scaring off children. He felt a nervousness that he hadn’t felt in a while, a feeling of dread as he looked around the deserted village. 

“This is taking you back, isn’t it?” 

Ino suddenly appeared in front of him along with Ten. Yunho stopped in his tracks. “Mirae made the wrong decision in refusing to join us. I have to admit, I feel disappointed,” The elder male said. 

“You feel disappointed? What about Mirae? What about Hyuk? What about Chanyeol? What about us? You betrayed us, betrayed our trust!” Yunho’s voice was raised. “You think you have the right to feel betrayed? You?!” 

“Hyuk and Chanyeol’s deaths were the price to pay in order to move our agenda forward. It’s time mutants really had some influence in the world. We’ve got powers, everyone else does not. If a few mutants dying is part of the process, then so be it,” Ino insisted. 

“So all this time, the Ino that we know, the Ino that Mirae knows, is bent on power after all…” Yunho said quietly. “Then Mirae is right to want to get at you too. As a matter of fact, everyone else that’s in here does.” 

“It might be so, but just like Hyuk and Chanyeol, it is also a price to pay to move forward a greater cause, for mutantkind,” Ino said. 

“What does that make you? Are you the leader for all of us?” Yunho glared at him. 

“Uh, we’ll get around to that,” Ten pointed out. “We’ve yet to elect the leader of this...whatever this is.” 

“Well, I am quite powerful, Yunho. I thought you knew that,” Ino said. 

“What is this world coming to?” Yunho looked down. He tried to get to Mirae again. “Where is San? Where did you put him?” He asked. 

“Tsk tsk tsk, I can’t tell you that,” Ten smirked. “As much as I can’t tell you what you remember from looking at this place. Brings back memories, doesn’t it? That last mission you had, your life since that day. People you’ve met, people you’ve… killed. And as a result of your mutant ability too. Don’t think we don’t know where you’ve been.” 

“Old habits die hard,” Yunho replied, but he could feel a little tinge of discomfort at his words. 

“That, it does,” Ten was grinning. “I suppose by the way you’re just standing still, you know there is nothing you can do right now.” 

“There’s always something. Ino knows it too,” Yunho glanced at the elder male again. “All I know is, at least I’m not the one running away from Mirae.” 

Ino’s face remained stoic. “I’m no coward, Yunho.” 

“Yes you are. It doesn’t change the fact that you made everyone else do the dirty work, just like you allowed Baekhyun and Jongin to tamper with the Danger Room. You didn’t let them in, they had to figure it out for themselves. Just like how you did nothing when you knew something was wrong,” Yunho pointed out as if to taunt him.

“There is a fine line between strategy and cowardice.” 

“And you’ve blurred that line.” 

“Are we going to continue this little repartee?” Ten asked, rolling his eyes. “We have to go back. They’ll need you to start operations.” 

Yunho smirked. “There is always a way, Ino hyung. I’m not running away from Mirae, you are.” 

Ino and Ten returned to the portal, Yunho catching a glimpse of where they were going. An island. “We’ll be back,” Ten said over his shoulder, and the portal disappeared. 

~ 

Powdery white snow fell on San’s head as he tried to figure out where he was while keeping himself warm. He wasn’t sure what happened. One moment, he was at the grounds of the abandoned school, running towards Mirae who had called out to him, the next moment he was at a forked road of what was a snowy mountainside, without his harpoon on him. 

San wasn’t sure where he was either. He didn’t know if this was still part of the place that they were in, or if this was somewhere else entirely. All he knew was that he needed to go back to the grounds of the school or at least to the place where everyone else would be. 

He stood in the middle of the forked road. It seemed unlikely that cars or even people would be coming any moment, and it made him think of the possible outcomes if he chose one road. If he chose the one going up, he might have an idea of where to go. If he chose the road going forward, he would see what else he would have to deal with if he decided to go. 

San thought of Mirae, what she would do in a situation like this, and without another thought, he ran up the road going upwards, looking up from time to time to see how far he had to go. It wasn’t going to be that far, but he knew he didn’t have much time. San kept running, only to skid to a halt, almost falling over when he realized he dodged a dart. Looking at it closely, the dart looked very familiar, almost too familiar. 

“Choi San!” 

He felt a chill down his spine at the call of his name. The voice sounded just as familiar and looking at the dart and out from the view where he heard his name, he realized just how familiar the place he was in was. The more his name was called by that same voice, San broke into a run again, taking large strides up the road that would lead to the mountaintop. 

“I can’t be back here, I just can’t,” San muttered, unable to shake off the sudden pang of dread that came over him upon seeing the dart and from hearing the voice. His thoughts immediately went back to the road ahead and seeing that there wasn’t much distance left until he reached the top, his eyes and fingertips glowed. San jumped on to the side, his hands immediately boring holes into the rock with a faint crack as he climbed his way up, his feet then making use of the holes he made with his hands.

As soon as he reached the top, he saw a frozen pond, along with visibly empty tents and a broken down car. “Choi San!” He heard the voice call out to him again, and San whipped around, on alert of what may come at him from here. He could only feel the chill from the wind where he stood. 

“Gives you goosebumps, doesn’t it, the place where you came from, or, where you first ran away to.” 

San turned around. From the rocks appeared Taeyong, smirking. “Where am I?” He asked. 

“Ten thought we’d bring you back to a place familiar to you. We know more about you than you think, you know, and I didn’t even need to read your mind to know what’s happened to you before you uh, found your sister.” 

“I don’t have anything to prove to you, if you know what I’ve been through then you know what I’ve been through,” San said. “If you’re trying to get into my head right now, you’re not doing a very good job.” 

“Oh really?” Taeyong raised a brow. 

“Yeah,” San was smirking. “For instance, you probably don’t know the exact details of what happened in this place.” 

“You are insulting my intelligence,” His expression stiffened. 

“Good, because that means you really don’t know,” San reached into his pocket. 

“If you’re thinking of trying to kill me, think again,” Taeyong pointed to his temple. “Then again, it might be fun to see you try.” 

“Why don’t we try it then?” San grinned, quickly ducking out of the way when he saw shards of ice go his direction, crashing into the nearby trees. He kept running, skidding against the snow to kick the powdery ice into the psychic’s face, catching him off guard and making him fall over. “What’s the matter? Can’t keep up?” He taunted, picking up the buried chain he remembered close to the car, cracking the string of metal like a whip towards him. 

Taeyong kept backing away, sending the car up from its place and towards him. San’s eyes glowed bright as he whipped the vehicle away and making it fall to the ground, the car overheating as it fell back close to the edge of where they stood. 

Taeyong dismantled the tent, revealing what else was inside, the poles used to hold it up charging towards him. San whipped the metal poles away, catching one in time. “You’re being quite generous,” San grinned, striking the ground with the pole and sending a wave of energy. Taeyong fell over, turning into his diamond form. 

“You’re leaving me with no choice,” He said, getting back up and charging towards San, who quickly moved to wrap the chain around his neck, tugging on it tightly.

“You underestimate me. You forget to realize I am Mirae’s brother. I learned a few things from her,” San kept his hold on the psychic’s neck, squeezing the chains tied around him tightly. “Go ahead and turn back to normal, I dare you.” 

Taeyong coughed and sputtered while San kept his hold on the chains, until he burst into laughter. “Go ahead and try and kill me, my brother’s going to come after you.” 

“I’ll take that chance,” San’s eyes were still glowing and he pushed Taeyong back, the chains still on his neck as it exploded. He tossed a black disk he found in his pocket towards the explosion quick enough to whistle, the explosion growing bigger until it dissipated, with the psychic’s body on the ground. Or at least, remnants of him in his human form. San figured he tried to change back when he let go of the chain only to be met with the explosive disk he threw.  

The ground under his feet began to rumble, and San looked up, sensing the presence of more snow coming from above. The layer of snow from the peak of the mountain where he was broke off and began to slide downhill, towards where he was. San picked up the fabric used for the tent, smirking to himself at the items that he saw came from under it and jumped off the edge, using the fabric to glide down the mountain and onto the forest below. 

The rumbling grew louder as he saw the avalanche had settled onto where he was earlier. San landed on the ground, stumbling as he hit the snow, looking back up from where he came from. All he had to figure out was how to get out of the place. He wondered where Yunho was, and where the rest of them were. He needed to run. 

From a distance, he heard someone yell, followed by a strong gust of wind coming from the north. The sky had turned cloudy, coupled with thunder and lightning. “Taeyong!” San heard a booming voice from the same place. 

“Must be Taeyong’s brother,” San muttered to himself as he kept running, seeing a clearing ahead. The closer he got, the more he saw where it led to. A harbor, only the ocean was an inky black. 

~ 

Mirae stared at the ruins of the school. Now that Ino had disappeared, she had been staring at the buildings that had disintegrated because of her powers. Destruction was all she seemed to think about now that she knew who to look for. She could hear Yunho’s thoughts, having encountered Ino as he was trapped in a village Ten had created. Ino was a coward no matter how much he’d deny it. 

If they wanted a monster, they would get a monster. 

“Mirae?” Hongjoong was standing close by. 

“My dear?” Yeosang had called as well. He groaned in his place, parts of his dark hair already turning white. “I need to feed, we’re running out of time. Project Apocalypse will be activated.” 

“Save it for when we see them again then,” Seonghwa pointed out. 

Mirae didn’t speak, and Wooyoung could tell what she was feeling. It made him step forward as well. “Mirae? I know you’re hurting, and I can tell how you’re feeling…” He tried to say it as carefully as possible. 

Her eyes were welling with tears. What am I without Hyuk? Without Chanyeol? Without Jihoon? Without Yunho? Without San? She thought, as she observed the cracks in the ground. “Like a monster,” She muttered. 

Wooyoung shook his head. “No. I know you feel like you’ve lost everyone you love, but I can tell you. I promise you, Mirae, you didn’t lose everyone-” 

“It’s so easy for you to say that, isn’t it?” Mirae glanced at him. 

“No, it’s not. Well, in a way, it is, but that’s not the point,” Wooyoung said. “I’ve sensed what is most likely going to happen, and we’ll get them back, Yunho and San.” 

Mirae looked down again, her eyes and fingertips glowing. Hongjoong exchanged looks with Wooyoung, and he approached her, the rest of them carefully following behind. “My dear, your shadowy friend is right,” Yeosang spoke. “I know how you feel.” 

“No you don’t,” Mirae shook her head, facing them. “You have no fucking idea how I feel right now.” 

“That’s fair, maybe we don’t,” Hongjoong said. “But Wooyoung’s point still stands. You didn’t lose everyone as much as they’re trying to make you think. You still have Yunho, you still have San, you still have executive Kang, whatever he is to you,” He turned to the vampiric-looking mutant, frowning slightly at the changes in his appearance. “You still have us too.” 

“We followed you here. Teamwork like ours, it’s not something that can just go away, we’ve all been through the same thing in that sanitarium, remember?” Seonghwa said. “Junhong is still here too. He’s waiting for us in the van right now. Mirae, you’re not as alone as you think you are, as they think you are. You still have us.” 

“Mirae, please,” Mingi’s expression fell.

“We, all of us, haven’t been together again for a while,” It was Jongho’s turn to speak. “We’d honestly still be lost if it weren’t for the three of you finding us again.” 

Yeosang put his hand on her shoulder, Mirae sensing the coldness of his touch even through her clothes. “For so long, I have pushed away so many people, thinking that this was the only way to survive. That was until I met you. All of us here are with you, my dear. Even your technology-affiliated friend who is waiting for us outside. We will get Yunho and San back, I promise you. I only ask that you not make the same mistake towards everyone else who has grown to care for you.”

“Come with us. Please,” Hongjoong said quietly. “...We need our leader back. Just like old times.” 

“I wish it was that simple,” Mirae said.

“And it is. It can be simple, my dear,” Yeosang said. “Come with us, my dear Mirae. I promise you, you have not lost everyone you love as much as they’re trying to make you think you have.” 

Mirae glanced at all of them, seeing how their expressions were all hopeful that maybe, just maybe, their words had gotten through to her. The more she thought about it, the more she realized that she wasn’t feeling that bubbling anger inside her, as if it was slowly getting replaced by a feeling of calm that she couldn’t quite comprehend. The feeling of calm was similar to what she felt after that time Jihoon died, along with her adoptive parents.  

It made her think of them. It made her think of what Chanyeol and Hyuk would’ve done. A part of her wanted to stay angry, but another part of her, a bigger part of her, knew that Chanyeol and Hyuk would never want her to turn out the way she was acting right now. She knew not even Jihoon would be cheering for her with all the damage she had caused so far. It seemed to be a relief that not even her home, back in the city, was damaged yet at this point. 

“One of these days, we’ll do a mission again, just the three of us.”

“Yeah, someone needs to watch your back this time. You nearly got your powers taken away.” 

“Lee Mirae, you’re getting sappy.” 

“Even with the way things ended back then. I’m glad the three of us found each other.” 

Mirae closed her eyes, remembering the last conversations she had with them. Hot tears trickled down her face. “I really wish it was that simple,” She whispered. “I want them back.” 

Yeosang could only keep his hand on her shoulder, unsure of whether to go nearer but sensing that Hongjoong was already doing the same. “I know you do. Hyuk hyung, Chanyeol hyung, I know you want them back, but they're in a much better place now, don’t you think?”

“Just as much as I want them back too,” Mirae said, making the rest of them stare at her, realizing what she meant. 

~ 

Yunho stopped in his tracks as he stepped out of one dark place to another in the village he was in. He heard her thoughts, heard what was going on with her. A small smile played across his lips, realizing what she said, why she was reaching out to him at this time. She was back, at least it seemed like it. 

Yunho ran towards another shadowy alley, trying to teleport, picturing the abandoned school, only to end up in another alley just by seeing the colored kaftans hanging from the two-floored houses he was surrounded by. 

Before he could teleport again, Mark appeared and kicked him out of the alley. “Jeong Yunho is it?” He said, seeing Yunho slide down the road, a scratch evident in his face only for it to heal completely. “A fellow external, this is excellent.” 

“Yeah, what about it?” Yunho got back up on his feet. “You do know we can actually kill each other, right?” 

“I am very well aware. Yeosang’s already weakening, it’s your turn,” Mark kicked him again and disappeared, reappearing behind the taller and punching him. Yunho stumbled to the side but quickly got back up, figuring out where Mark would reappear next. 

Yunho smirked. “Two can play this game,” He closed his eyes, letting his instincts guide him on where the other male would reappear. Before he knew it, he reappeared in another alley, and in another, and another, realizing that the sky was getting dark. “Let’s play hide and seek then! You hide and I’ll seek!” He called out, teleporting from one spot to another, stopping at the empty fountain. 

“With pleasure,” Mark reappeared, only for the taller to grab him by the collar, both of them teleporting from one spot to another in the midst of their scuffle. Yunho kept his grip on Mark, punching him several times until kicking him, the two of them reappearing and landing on opposite directions. “We have all night, Yunho, give up already?” 

“I’m just getting started,” Yunho charged towards Mark, only to vanish halfway through the run, reappearing in a puff of black smoke behind the shorter, tackling him into a headlock. “Losing your touch already, old man?” He taunted, the shorter coughing and sputtering. “Try and teleport, I’m going with you all the way.” 

Mark groaned and sucker punched him, but Yunho kept his hold on him as they teleported from one place to another. “You realize while I’m here, the rest of my friends are already trying to activate Project Apocalypse as we speak,” He coughed, trying to break free but his strength was waning. 

“Trying, they’re only trying,” Yunho kept his hold. “You tell me where the hell am I and where San is and I might just let you live,” He threatened. “You should be familiar with what happened here, since all of you know things about me.” 

“That I am,” Mark sucker punched him again before trying to poke his eyes. Yunho ducked in time to throw him off, running into another shadowy part of the place and disappearing. “This is testing my patience,” He cracked his knuckles and reappeared inside what looked like the inside of a blockhouse that he knew was still within the village. 

Mark looked around, trying to sense a presence within the confined walls of the fortified space. “You really think Mirae’s going to go back to you?” He called out. “She’s far down the rabbit hole of her rage. But I am amazed that Yeosang got through to her more than her own boyfriend,” He said, removing the blankets and the sheets from the nearby beds. “Based from your thoughts and memories, she thought you were looking the other way. I can’t blame either of you, though. Both of you seem to be much better apart than you are together-” 

Yunho had reappeared behind him, kicking him before he could teleport and knocking him down, the taller quickly kicking his leg to keep him down. “You were saying?” He asked. “Get us out of here, why don’t you?” 

Mark smirked. “Bold of you to assume I will easily give in to that.” 

“Want to bet?” Yunho kicked his other leg down, hearing the bones crack. “You teleport, I teleport with you.” 

“Alright, alright,” Mark groaned, the pain in his legs still present as he faced the taller male. “It’s clear that we are evenly matched at the moment,” He crawled to his feet, only for Yunho to pull him back down by the ankle. 

“I don’t think it’s even at the moment,” Yunho kicked his leg down again, making him yelp in pain. “You’re going to take me to Mirae, and you’re going to bring San back, do you understand? But first, I need information.” 

“Do you really think torturing me is going to get me to tell you where Project Apocalypse is located?” Mark gave him a look. 

“We’re both immortals, we’ve got the rest of our never-ending lives, and we’ve got the time, you might as well tell me,” Yunho drove his foot further into Mark’s leg. “I’ve certainly got the time to break these bones over and over again.” 

“Alright! I will have to concede in this battle,” Mark spat. “If you had any knowledge in how plans like these work, you would’ve already figured out by now that the rest of the country will be seeing our entrance soon.” 

“Mhmm,” Yunho got the idea, but he still drove his foot down on Mark’s broken leg. “Where there?” 

“The city, where else? Seoul itself is about to see once more what happens when powerful mutants like ourselves can take power.”

[diavolodigitale]

Dream Sequence. Julian

A-a-and it’s over! Thank god, this one was incredibly hard to finish. I apologize to all Julian fans in advance for writing this but I am not really sorry! Well, maybe only a little bit.

All parts of the trilogy: Lucio - Asra - Julian - All stories in PDF

A part of the "trilogy" about dream encounters dedicated to Julian (because he deserves it). Nothing special, just You (or the Apprentice, or the Reader, however you view it) and Julian spending some time together (if you know what I mean, which you probably don't, so go ahead and read it, it's pretty short, I promise). My character was male, but you are free to imagine whoever you want since there are no references to it in the text.

Genres: Romance, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Dreams, POV First Person, One-shot

Pairing: Julian/Apprentice(or Reader or You or Whatever)

Characters: Julian, Reader/Apprentice/You

Rating: G for Geez this one’s not so good ಠ╭╮ಠ

Size: around 2500 words yet again (what a coincidence, I know)

I open my eyes and see that everything around me is incredibly, terribly dull. It’s swamps as far as the eye can see, with only occasional floating isles of solid land. All of the trees are rotting and old. Their thin branches are reaching up like long eerie claws, with vines hanging everywhere, blocking many paths and obscuring the landscape. I cannot see the sun; the whole sky is covered with heavy clouds ready to burst any minute.

It doesn’t take me long to figure out whose dream this is. Being here alone brings me no satisfaction so I immediately venture to find the owner of this gloomy realm.

After a few minutes of aimless wandering, I finally spot a figure leaning on a broad tree trunk. I would have probably missed it, was it not for its white broad shirt floating in the wind.  

Before I can come close enough to make my presence known, Julian looks in my direction. He doesn’t seem surprised and displays something more akin to mild excitement.

“I have not expected to see you here, but now that I have, I don’t want to imagine what would happen if I didn’t!” he shouts and waves at me.

I give him a smile and approach. My boots are already sodden and I am just glad to stand on the solid ground and not ankle-deep in mud.

“So, what are you doing here?” he asks, leaning back against the tree with arms crossed on his chest.

“Looking for you, of course,” I say, trying to shoo away the annoying insect that seems to have gotten stuck in my hair.

“Oh, how sweet of you,” he says and winks, grinning all the time. “You’re certainly a sight for sore eyes.”

“And why exactly are you here?” I ask. I know that the majority of ordinary people cannot control their dreams the way magicians do, but there still has to be a reason why Julian is in such a place out of all the possible options.

“As far as I can tell, it’s just your regular old meaningless dream, so, probably, no reason. Although now that you are here, I start to doubt that,” he says and squints at me, his gaze full of artfulness.

I roll my eyes and purse my lips.

“No, no, I’m serious!” he says hastily. “I just started to miss you, and now you’re here so I... I’m just glad to see you. And I do want to spend some time with you now since there’s hardly anything better I could be doing here.” The usual grin is back on his face and I cannot help but give him a smile in return.

“You are truly unbearable, you know that?” I ask, raising my eyebrow.

“Well, then…” he mutters and I notice how his back arches against the tree he is leaning at.

“Well, then...?” I repeat and raise my eyebrow even higher, waiting for him to elaborate. I can guess what crossed his mind, but with Julian I can never be sure about anything.

“Perhaps, I deserve to be disciplined…” he proceeds intriguingly, starring at me, hardly trying to hide the hunger in his eyes.

I shrug and curve my lips, pretending to have no idea what he is talking about.

Julian sighs impatiently and pulls me by my arm, making me bump right into him. I hear his breath quickening and feel the tight grip on my wrist which signals that he probably does not intend to let go.

“Let’s just say, you have my permission to be a bit more… rough today. I do deserve a punishment after all,” he whispers and gently traces my neck with the tip of his nose.

I sigh quietly. Sometimes I give in to one these moods of his, but it just cannot go on like this forever. Not the way he makes it at least.

“To deserve a punishment, you first have to actually convince me you did something bad, Julian,” I say and carefully pull away from him.

He furrows his brows as he is taken aback by my response. Soon, however, he plasters another toothy smile on his face and lightly tugs at my arm.

“Oh, so you want me to beg for it, I see. Fine by me, I even like this idea a little more…” he says and kisses me behind my ear.

I enjoy his closeness but cannot stop worrying that there is no getting through to him because of how obsessed he is with his feeling of guilt. I decide that there is no other way for me to resolve this other than changing my strategy, so I try to soften the expression on my face and push him against the tree.

“Actually, I thought, maybe I could ask you to be rougher with me,” I whisper, doing my best to sound sincere with my request, and rub my nose on his cheek.

I feel him tremble with his whole body and pray to all gods that my plan works.

“Me?” he asks in disbelief. I look up at him, my eyes full of plea and sincere wish, and he immediately gives in. “Right,” he says and lets out a nervous laugh,” I cannot be the only one who gets all the luxury. It’s only fair if I… If I…”

I nod agreeingly and tilt my head back a little, exposing my neck. I see the uncertainty in his eyes and stroke his face gently to encourage him.

I realise that I myself seem to start shaking, expecting eagerly for him to act, and I can neither understand why nor stop it. There is always a certain tension between us at moments like this, yet this time is feels different.

Julian wraps his arms around me, continuing to stare fixedly at one point on my neck. I feel my heart rate escalating and pray that he does something already because the wait is killing me.

He leans in and lands a few careful kisses on my neck. They seem to be as pleasant and gentle as always so I find myself enjoying them and even am able to relax a bit. Lingering uncertainly for a few seconds, he finally decides to give it a try and quickly bites me at the base of my neck. I yelp as it hurts a little more than I expected, and he immediately jerks back.

“I am so, so sorry!” he yells, his eyes round and full of guilt and fear. “Are you okay? Is there any blood? Let me take a look at it. I swear I didn’t mean to hurt you!”

I reach to the spot where he bit me before he does anything and feel it with my fingers. There obviously is no blood as he hasn’t bitten even remotely violently enough to pierce my skin. I exhale with relief and look at his worried face.

“Oh, please, forgive me, I will never do it again! What was I even thinking?” he says and pulls on his hair, sliding down the tree trunk.

I squat beside him and lift his face by the chin to make him pay attention to what I want to say.

“How are you feeling?” I ask, feeling the waves of guilt for what I made him do starting to wash over me.

“Horrendous,” he says, his eyes already trimmed with red. “And guilty, and sorry, and…”

“That’s also how I feel when I hurt you, Julian. That’s what I wanted you to understand,” I finally muster and feel the heavy burden lifted off my shoulders.

He squeezes his eye shut and bumps his head against the tree behind him.

“How foolish of me… I have never even thought about that before. I don’t know how you can forgive me for this,” he mutters. It looks like he wants to reach out and grab my hand, but decides to jerk back when our fingers nearly touch.

I take his hand into mine and the leather of his glove feels cool against my skin. We’re both exhausted so the sooner I end this conversation the better.

“I don’t want you to feel guilty or sorry, I just want you to respect yourself more. Don’t sell yourself short, you also deserve care and affection, just like everybody else,” I say, stroking his hand. “There is time and place for everything, of course, so if you want me to, I can treat you differently, but I don’t want to see how you look down on yourself all the time.”

Julian’s lips stretch into a wide sincere smile and he looks at me with all the warmth that a single person can hold.

“I am such a fool, even the manifestation of you I have in my mind is much smarter,” he says quietly.

I look at him questioningly, not understanding what he is trying to say.

“This single dream is the best and most useful one I have had in years. Now that you’ve opened my eyes... I will not make the same mistake when I wake up and meet the real you again, my darling,” he says and lovingly strokes the side of my face.

“Julian…” I begin, not even knowing how to approach this, “you do know that this is me, don’t you? I am not something you made up in your sleep, this is actually me.”

I watch his eyes that were so calm moments ago become wide again and slide closer to him. The last thing I want is for him to have a breakdown because of me.

“I am… the worst,” he simply says and sighs.

“That’s not true,” I object and kiss him softly on the lips. He returns my kiss with triple the force, and I feel like I’m melting under his touch.

All of a sudden, a big heavy droplet lands right on my nose and, disappointed, I am forced to open my eyes. Soon, many more of them follow, and before we know it, we are both sitting soaking wet under a tree that has absolutely no means to protect us from the rain.  

I am worried for Julian so I look him up and down to make sure he is alright. I notice his now half-transparent shirt sticking to the skin on his chest and his shoulder and hastily look away, but he has followed my gaze and is already grinning at me again.

“We should seek shelter,” I say, trying to shout above the storm that is starting, and help him up from the ground.

“Agreed, I am not a fan of drenching in the rain, even if this is a dream. Come on,” he says and confidently wraps his hand around my waist, “I know just the place for us to hide.”

Soon the rain turns into a downpour and we have to run for our lives to avoid its stinging heavy droplets almost bruising our skin. The place is magical, after all, and so is the rain, so it’s much more unpleasant than any other rain I’ve ever experienced. I suspect that the place is in such a state of gloom precisely because of how Julian feels but I keep it to myself and follow his lead. Even while running, he holds my hand tight and turns around every minute or so to make sure I am fine and able to continue going.

I trust Julian to choose the path among identically looking withered trees the branches of which are interwoven with different sorts of creeping plants. My trust pays off when we arrive at a cave entranced which is carefully tucked away behind tall dry bushes. I definitely wouldn’t have noticed it if I were to look for shelter on my own.

The cave is rather small, there’s barely enough room for it hold two people and an impromptu campfire, but we manage. Most of the twigs we are able to gather are completely wet, so I have to use a bit of magic for the sparks to finally start the fire. Julian is ecstatic about what my magic can do while I am silently thanking Asra for teaching me this trick right in time for me to be able to use it now.

Being able to catch our breath in the modest sanctuary provided by the cave, we relax a bit and ponder over what we can possibly do here with such limited possibilities.

I sneakily peer at Julian to make sure he is okay (or so I tell myself at least). He’s in a better condition than I expected, breathing deeply and with his cheeks pink from running, but still drenched to the bone. I cannot help but lower my gaze a bit and notice that his shirt is now sticking all over his upper body, contouring every muscle.

It goes without saying that he immediately catches my glance and reveals his teeth in a predatory grin. I must’ve been gawking at him for too long. It makes me feel embarrassed so I shift my gaze to the fire before me.

���Oh, no need to be so shy, after all, my view here is not much worse than yours,” cackles Julian and slides closer to me.

I doubt his words, remembering that I am also wearing a travelling cape given to me by Asra on one of the holidays we celebrated together in our shop.

It suddenly dawns on me that I actually know the spell that can dry our clothes so I think about using it to help out Julian, but then hesitate. He doesn’t seem like he really needs it now and I am somehow amused by the idea of him staying the way he is.

“How are you feeling? Want me to dry your clothes?” I ask to get rid of the pricks of my conscience.

“No, I don’t think so,” predictably says Julian. “I haven’t felt this good in a while, actually. What about you?”

“I am… fine,” I say. I really am fine but feel hesitant about saying it because it seems to me that he wanted to hear something else instead.

Julian pouts and only nods silently to my reply.

Not knowing what to do, I take off my cape and wrap it around his shoulders to make sure at least the exposed areas of his skin are covered with soft cloth. It makes absolutely no sense since we’re still in a dream and I have a dozen other ways to help him if he wanted me to, but it just feels like the right thing to do.

His smile softens somehow and I see the tips of his ears, which are sticking out from his wet auburn hair, growing red.

“Come here,” he says and motions me to come sit on his lap.

I oblige and soon lean my back against his chest with his long legs resting on my sides. He lets his slender fingers slide into my hair, combing it and scratching the delicate skin on the back of my neck. It’s a very calming and pleasant feeling, so I close my eyes and let myself get some rest.

“You know…” I start, feeling that I simply have to say it.

“Mm?” he mutters, preoccupied with my hair.

“That… what you did… wasn’t so bad,” I say shyly, hoping he will still understand even with me sparing him the details.

Julian’s fingers stop moving and he tilts his head to take a cautious look at my face. Before he can come up with any ludicrous remarks on the topic, I hurry to elaborate.

“Well... it’s you, so I know you’ll never hurt me or… And I’ll also never really hurt you, so… You know… You understand, don’t you?” I ask pleadingly. This turns out to be much harder than I expected. “Sometimes I’m just not in the mood and I want to be gentle with you. You deserve it.”

“I do?” he only asks.

“Change my mind,” I reply playfully, thinking that I will most likely regret it later.

I hear him chuckle and a second later feel his teeth carefully nibble at the base of my neck a few times. It tickles more than it hurts so I follow the reflex and tilt my head back to make him stop.

“If I do, will I ever be able to change it back?” he asks curiously, slides his arms in front of me to hug me and begins to trace circles on my stomach.

“With enough effort, everything’s possible,” I say, positioning my body a bit lower to rest my head on his chest.

“That’s good to know.”

[k-project-singularity]

Facts & Trivia || Misaki Yata

The following is part of a series of posts made by me. The information listed is official canon provided by GoRa. Sources will go from the anime, to mangas and novels as well as official short stories. These are NOT fanmade headcanons. The purpose of these posts is to provide useful information for fans as well as roleplayers looking for confirmed lore for their muses. Please do not reply to argue with me about what you read here. I did not come up with this stuff myself. GoRa did. I’ll come back to edit these as I find more info.

Born on July 20, 1993 (The same year as Daichi Yamata, Tōru Hieda, Andy Dōmyōji and Saruhiko Fushimi).

Member of Homra since January/February 2009, when he was 15 years old alongside Saruhiko Fushimi.

His Homra insignia is on the left collarbone like Saruhiko Fushimi’s. Yata and Fushimi are remarkably known as the first and only case in which two clansmen received the mark on the same spot. Yata took great pride in this and will show it off often. He hates that Fushimi marred his own.

His weapons of choice are his fists and legs that Yata uses with expert street fighting moves and acrobatics. He also brandishes blunt weapons such as a baseball bat and a pole, and can control his aura to make his skateboard go faster as well as use it as a weapon itself.

He wears a smartwatch that he uses instead of a PDA. It has all the functions of a mobile phone, including camera and holographic screen as well as a flashlight. It was gifted to him by Fushimi, who personally customized it for him when they were roommates.

Yata called himself Yatagarasu to sound cooler as a Homra member. Yatagarasu is a crow spirit with three legs in Japanese folklore.

Yata is the vanguard of Homra. This means he adopts an all-out direct offense tactic, charging at the enemy on the front without any regard for his own safety. This used to make his duo with Saruhiko almost invincible as his friend would watch his back and finish off the enemy. But after they split up, this strategy doesn’t work as well and Yata often puts his own life at risk with it.

He was born with a different (and unknown) last name. His last name became “Yata” only once his mother remarried (In Japan children of remarried women get their new stepfather’s last name). Misaki was 6 years old at the time.

He hates to be called by his first name because it’s girly. The only people allowed to use it without getting yelled at are his family, Anna, and Saruhiko back when they were friends. Saruhiko still calls him Misaki out of habit, sometimes just to annoy him.

During his earliest childhood he was best friend with Rikio Kamamoto, dragging him around in all kinds of dangerous explorations. Departing from him at 6 years old, he reunites with Rikio once he joins Homra nine years later.

He always displayed a kind of tough, abusive friendship with Kamamoto, calling him names because of his weight and yelling at him when Rikio showed weakness by crying. Even now he doesn’t hesitate to fight him or physically hit him when in an argument.

Though he was born in Shizume City, he moved to live elsewhere at 6 with his mother when she remarried. When he was 12 his family moved in Chiyoda City (Saruhiko and Scepter 4’s district) and was able to go visit Shizume City again because it was nearby. At 15 years of age he returned to live in Shizume City when he moved in with Fushimi.

He attended Himuka Middle School in Chiyoda City, where he met and befriended Fushimi. Both of them dropped out at the end of their third year.

Though he was often bullied, Yata was kind of a bully himself at school, often forcing people into being his friends and scaring them with his fierce and strong personality. This caused the other kids to not really like him much and blacklist him behind his back.

Swears and yells a lot. He’s very manic and violent when he gets worked up and won’t hesitate to give a beating to fellow clansmen too if they anger him (or even if they don’t, in the case of Kamamoto).

He’s very good at baseball and is particularly proud of his straight as a pitcher.

He can use both the skateboard and surf board very skillfully. Even to the point where girls will find him cool, unbeknownst to him. He owns both boards stylized with Homra’s symbol.

His favorite subjects in school were PE and music.

However, seen how bad Yata was at playing Totsuka’s guitar, it’s safe to assume his only musical talent was singing.

He tried to learn to play the guitar from Totsuka.

He likes videogames, which he played a lot with Saruhiko in the past. He often goes to the arcade and has even taught Anna to play FPS games. This shows he might be a bit oblivious to what is appropriate for a kid when it comes to gore and violence.

For his age, he has pretty good housekeeping and cooking skills. However, Kamamoto has described Yata’s cooking as “too manly” for a girl’s birthday.

All animals seem to dislike him for some reason. This includes the horse strain Basashi and a retriever that Fujishima once picked up.

Neko, who also believes to be a cat, shows instinctive hostility towards Yata just like a real cat would.

Yata is actually upset when animals hate him and to bring it up is a sensitive subject.

This seems to be a “mirroring” trait to Fushimi, who instead dislikes animals and yet seems to attract them to himself like a magnet.

Eric Sōlt seems to dislike him (a reference to his dog-like personality), and often mocks him in English. Though Yata’s English is bad, he seems to be able to pick up the insults and gets very annoyed.

He’s very annoyed by how popular Kamamoto gets in the summer when he loses weight. Though, rather than because of jealousy, it might be because when Rikio is surrounded by girls it is impossible for Yata to approach him or hang out with him at ease.

He’s an active member of the Committee of Fattening Up Kamamoto Rikio, going great lengths with his cooking skills to make him gain weight (even to the point where his own living budget will be as low as to force Yata to eat poorly).

Yata appears to get overwhelmingly flustered in the presence of young women, to the point he looks outright terrified and avoids interacting with them. He seems to be okay with little girls or women far older than himself.

Because of his past drama with Saruhiko, Yata holds a personal and violent grudge towards Scepter 4 and anything related to them, reacting with suspicion and hostility towards any of its members.

By far the member who cares about Homra’s honor the most. Yata doesn’t tolerate that anything offensive is said about his King or clan. He also gets furious when his fellow clansmen act in dishonorable ways that could stain the Red Clan’s reputation, and will violently discipline them without any restraint if so.

In general, Yata proves to have great pride and sense of honor overall, refusing to strike at injured people, no matter how bad he hates them.

Despite his problems with Fushimi and how directly he insults him as they fight, Yata also won’t tolerate that anyone else speaks poorly of him. In general, Homra members know to avoid the topic entirely around Yata.

He’s known to not listen all too well to no one, save perhaps Mikoto-san (who however hardly ever tells him anything).

This may be another a mirror personality trait to reflect Fushimi, who instead doesn’t speak out his thoughts (“He never listens vs. He never tells”).

He won’t tolerate being bossed around by any guy save the Homra founders. Yata dislikes when people settle things on their own. Ironically, he is guilty of this fault himself as he often takes decisions and acts without waiting.

Despite his fiery temper, Yata is very nurturing and won’t hesitate to show concern and care for those he’s very close to. Though he may be aggressive about it, especially with Saruhiko.

Yata is tormented by not knowing the exact reasons behind Saruhiko’s betrayal. He’ll ask him several times, only to get mocked as a result.

When he and Saruhiko start arguing, Yata can get tunnel vision and forget about everything else around him, including bullets and grenades.

Though he always swears he’ll beat Saruhiko to death, deep inside Yata has never given up on getting his friend back, and always looks with hope for signs from Saruhiko that they can be comrades again. Because of this he gets even more hurt every time Saruhiko reiterates his betrayal and spite towards Homra.

Yata can be a bit of a crybaby and tear up more easily than most guys.

He’s terrified of ghosts. When he hears about ghost stories or thinks one may be close, Yata gets extremely jittery and manic. However, he strongly denies his fears and will react with nervous violence if accused of this.

[hxhhasmysoul]

I don’t find Gon’s slight “selfishness” as surprising as others and it doesn’t change the fact that I love him truly, he’s one of my favorite MC because Togashi portrays his character more human than most anime characters, compared to Killua his better half he was raised pretty normally thus his “selfishness” comes from lack of world experience and the fact that he’s 12-14 tops (beginning to end) of series. Where is Killua was raised by top hunters/assassins is more of an old soul at his age much more experienced and been through more thus making him less of a selfish person even being the same age as Gon. Do you agree?

Thank you for the ask, anon.

And yes, i do agree that Gon's very human in the way he's written. And he's one of my favourite characters ever.

I don't like the word "selfish" used for Gon because it's an extremely loaded word, there's a huge value judgement attached to it. And in case of Gon it's not only used to denote self-absorbed but also uncaring, especially uncaring towards Killua's feelings. "Selfish" generally can't be used as a neutral descriptor of how someone is, and in this case specifically it's used as an accusation.

One of the reasons why some people in fandom seem to love this word so much imho is because there's this toxic tendency in fandom to apply moral judgement to "things I personally don't like". People can't just prefer Killua as a character. Their preference needs to be a reflection of their character and values so Killua needs to be "good" and the easiest way to establish someone as "good" is to juxtapose them with someone who's "bad".

Because everything on the internet needs to work like a fucking pendulum you of course get people in the fandom who go: Gon never did nothing wrong, he's a poor traumatised child, pure sweet baby angel who's super thoughtful blah blah blah...

And the truth is that he's human and a kid and has better and worse moments.

And the reason why Gon can be written over so easily, and in such polar opposite ways is because after Heaven's Arena arc we get progressively less direct insight into his thoughts. We see him very much thorough the eyes of others, predominately Killua. And to get to what Gon really is and what is Killua's interpretation of Gon takes a lot of work and honestly is very hard. it's really hard to filter out Killua's pov and i don't think I've managed to do it completely myself and not for the lack of trying.

Also there is no word that describes a person who can get lost in their own goals that doesn't come with severe negative judgement. Writing honestly about Gon's flaws is hard without venturing into preaching, demonasing or whitewahing and apologetics. Neither of these do him justice or treat him like the human, and not a shonen cliche, that Togashi managed to write him as.

Gon being a kid is of course less experienced but whether his upbringing is normal... I don't really agree.

Here, again, his existence next to Killua does him a disservice. Killua's upbringing is very clearly pathological. Even in the world of HxH where kids are treated like adults and allowed to take part in deadly exams or blood sports. Killua's violent family also explains his ability to overanalyse others and with fairly decent accuracy. He has instincts that allow him to read people well because that's what he needed from a very young age to survive in his family. They are very keen on harming him and any skill that'd help him not provoke them would develop in him very early on. That's why he works overtime to read Gon especially when he starts to feel he's losing the connection with Gon after Kite's death. Because the distance that Gon's crawling mental breakdown builds hurts Killua. And that's why he's so hurt in the moment when Gon tells him "it has nothing to do with you", because Killua was doing everything to avoid being hurt. All his survival strategies were for naught.

it's also important to note the Killua's "not selfishness" has a very narrow scope, he doesn't have the emotional bandwidth for many people so he caters only to a select few. to most people he's abrasive and dismissive, and fans love to forget about that. So Killua is also very "selfish" in that sense, and again the word "selfish" is wrong because why should someone be judged on how much emotional investment they can handle. He more or less consciously decides who he's capable of caring for and how much and acts accordingly. Look how little he's emotionally invested in Leorio or Kurapika. He likes them for sure but his investment is much lower than that of Gon's

Contrasted to that Gon's childhood looks fairly normal. it's tame, no one's abusing him. He's taken care of. He can roam around the island. Mito does disapprove of him taking the exam but she doesn't physically try to stop him. She tries with lies and it feels less bad when we see what Killua's family does to him. But in reality Mito is a pretty bad parent.

disclaimer: I like Mito, I don't think she's a bad person. Having flaws doesn't make someone evil and morally reprehensible. I can just sense people willfully misinterpreting this.

Togashi never really explains why she took Gon from Ging to the point of making it legally binding. but there was really no need to do that. if left with Ging, Gon wouldn't get much love but Ging's rich and he could've paid for child minders, teachers, etc. Yet Mito gets involved and Gon stays with her. She clearly loves him but she brings him up in a very unbalanced way. Gon's got very good manners, he can take care of himself like make his own food and wash his clothes. But Mito never teaches him to care for another person's feelings. For whatever reason she lies to Gon a lot concealing her own feelings. She's informs him about them sometimes, like when she doesn't want him to take the exam but it's so late in his life. he's already 12, what he'd modeled after her is hold things in, not burdening others with your feelings, persevering, stubbornness.

Killua also doesn't want to burden others with his own feelings. He hides them from Gon all the time. But for Killua it means engaging with the feelings of others instead of his own. For Gon it means solving his problems on his own. Focusing inward on doing what needs to be done to remove the feelings he doesn't want to burden others with.

This is paired with very low self worth. Part of Gon's "selfishness" is him not realising that people who love him will be affected by him getting hurt. And also paired with the fact that he enjoys risk, enjoys fighting, so he's more prone to getting hurt. honestly it's questionable whether he realises that people, apart from Mito and Abe, love him at all. Because self-worth is another thing Mito can't model for him since imo her self-worth is as garbage as Gon's. She seems to be an aimless person and Gon seems to be her only focus. She's a bit strict with him on the manners side but overly permissive on the wild child of the island side.

And this is Mito herself, Ging's catch me if you can asshole move is another layer to that. Creating in Gon this image that he means something to others if they see him as capable. And it doesn't help that Killua never tells Gon why he values him really. Or how much Gon means to him. And that half of their preteen/early teen relationship is literally them competing with each other and measuring each other's capability. - and by it doesn't help i don't think it's Killua's duty to shoulder Gon's lack of self worth, or that Killua failed Gon or is actually the selfish and evil one, he's also a kid. and I would hope no one would think that but i'm not going to underestimate the desire of some people to willfully misinterpret everything

tldr: I guess I agree in general though not on some details? I hope that's ok

[mint-yooxgi]

The King and I - King!Twin!Suga X Reader X Twin!Yoongi

Twin AU -  Heavily inspired by Agust D’s 대취타

Genre: Mature, Angst, Minor Fluff (If you squint real hard)

Pairing: Yoongi X Reader X Suga

Words: 12,001

Warnings: Depictions of violence, beheadings, and swearing. Not everything is historically accurate. Yoongi is referred to as Agust a lot. Both of them are selfish, manipulative assholes.

A/n: I’m pretty excited about this one, ngl. Heavily based upon the music video mentioned above, I just love the aesthetic of it, oof. King!Yoongi? Yes please! Him with the long blond hair and sword hit me hard, my goodness. Anyways, I hope you like this one as it’s definitely different from what I'm used to. Feedback is always appreciated! Enjoy lovelies!

The sound of a door opening alerts your attention to the front, where Agust steps into the room flanked by two men. You’re currently sitting around a small table, discussing ambush strategies for tomorrow’s attack on the king. There are about twenty-five of you in total, so you’re hoping you’ll be able to pull this off.

So far, you’ve lived a pretty basic life, coming from a middle class family, unlike many of the others here in this room. You became drawn to Agust’s personality and listened to what he had to say about the king that rules over your lands. You agree that the king is selfish, and cares not for his people; that he’s violent and all he cares about is money. All of which you’ve learnt and come to realize thanks to listening to Agust’s speeches. In fact, you ran away from home because of him.

Ever since you joined the underground revolution, as you all call yourselves, you’ve been working hard to overthrow the king, and create a new world order. One where peace reigns, and people don’t live in poverty across the kingdom. You’re just hoping that what you’re fighting for isn’t in vain.

Making brief eye contact with Agust, he sits across from you at the table, looking over the plans laid out in front of him.

“What’s the plan for tomorrow?” He asks, more as a way to make sure everyone is on the same page.

“The king is supposed to go for his monthly parade around the village streets to check on the wellbeing of the peasants-” a scoff is heard, “he’ll be seated in his carriage surrounded by palace guards, so getting to him will be a bit of a challenge. Luckily, we’ve planned to lure most of the guards away so you can go straight for him.”

Agust nods his head, “good, good. You all know your positions, then?”

A chorus of ‘yes, sir’s are heard around the room.

“Good,” he nods once more. “Everyone get some rest tonight, tomorrow we start the revolution.”

With those words, you all know that you’re dismissed, but you can tell from the look he sends you that he wants you to stay back. Once the final person is out of the room and the door is shut behind them, he makes his way over to where you’re standing. The only light comes from the flickering candles placed around the room.

“I really don’t want you there tomorrow, in case something goes wrong,” he says, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into his chest.

“Well, too bad, cause I’m helping whether you like it or not,” you reply, a smirk tugging at your lips as you stare into his eyes.

“You know I’d hate myself if anything ever happened to you,” he admits, and you can feel his arms tightening their hold around you.

“I know,” you sigh, “but nothing you can say, or do, will change my mind.”

“I was afraid you’d say that,” his eyes narrow slightly, observing you carefully. “I might just have to lock you up for your own protection.”

“I’d like to see you try,” you counter, brow quirked in amusement. You fail to hear the seriousness of his statement. “Though, it would help if I actually knew how to protect myself.”

“I’ve already told you, I don’t know how many times, weapons are too dangerous for you. You could seriously hurt yourself,” he frowns, taking a step away from you to cross his arms in front of his chest.

“Yeah, but if I knew how to, I don’t know, wield a sword, I’d be able to protect myself,” you reply with a roll of your eyes, as if you’ve stated the obvious. You miss the way his jaw clenches.

“You’re not handling weapons, and that’s final,” he states, voice firm as his eyes darken slightly.

“Fine, fine,” you wave him off, tired of having this same conversation every time you bring up handling weapons. You still don’t understand why he won’t let you do so.

“Go get some rest, I have some things I still need to tend to,” he says, motioning to the back door which leads to your sleeping chambers.

“You better hurry up, then,” you tell him, already heading towards the back door. “You know I hate sleeping alone.”

“I’ll be there, soon,” he turns around, focusing his attention back on the table with the plans on it, “I promise.”

You simply hum in response, sliding the back door open so you can exit through it before closing it once more. As soon as you’re alone in the courtyard, you let out a sigh, shaking your head as you begin to make your way to your sleeping quarters.

Ever since you joined his cause, Agust has had a certain infatuation with you, one of which you’ve equally pursued with him. He’s certainly charming, and after the first week together, you knew you were starting to fall for him. He’s shown you so much, you don’t know who you would be without him.

Once you’re ready for bed, you crawl under the covers. Laying on your side, you angle yourself so you’re facing the door, wanting to see when he comes in. You’re not afraid to admit it: he’s stolen your heart, just as you know you’ve stolen his, and as soon as the king is out of the way, he’s promised for you to rule at his side in a new era of history.

You manage to doze off before he wanders into the room about an hour later. A subtle smirk takes over his features as he sees your sleeping face, heart warming at how content and adorable you look. All he wants to do is hide you, and protect you, from all the horrors of this world, and make sure nothing ever happens to you. Not even the king will be able to stop him, for he knows he’d do anything for you. Anything at all.

The next morning comes around all too soon for his liking, and before either of you two know it, everyone is getting into position to ambush the king. As usual, a small crowd has gathered alongside the pathway the royal caravan will take, all wanting to grab a glance at the king. You’ve all worked to use this to your advantage.

Before all of this, Agust attempted to get you to back out of the plans once more, but you refused. You could see how frustrated he was getting with you, but luckily you were interrupted and had to get into positions before anything else could happen.

Right now, you’re preparing to cause a scene with another girl, ready to throw yourself in the way of the procession of the king. Agust insisted that the one girl you’re doing this with would have been enough, but you insisted right back that it’d be more convincing if you did it together. As soon as you hear the signal, you know it’s go time.

Throwing yourself into the path of the caravan, the other girl tumbles along with you, both acting as if you’ve just been pushed. You both start fighting each other while screaming insults, acting as if you’ve each greatly offended the other and successfully causing a scene.

The procession comes to a halt and you can hear the murmurs of the crowd talking about how disrespectful you two are. Out of the corner of your eyes, you see the two front guards coming to break you two up while the rest of the plan begins to be set in motion.

A shot is fired somewhere near the back of the caravan, causing a few screams to be heard as the rear guards check out the commotion. That leaves the two side guards, who are soon surrounded by the rest of your team, easily overpowering them.

You see Agust coming out of the crowd and rushing towards the carriage with a knife in his hand. He tosses the hat he’s been wearing as a disguise off of his head once he jumps onto the carriage ledge, a sinister smirk on his features. Ripping back the curtain of the carriage, his expression falls as he sees it completely empty.

“Get them!” A new voice shouts, twenty new guards appearing from around the scene, as if they’ve been waiting for their own counter attack. 

You realize this too late, and you cannot get to your feet in time. Two guards grab each of your arms rather harshly, dragging you away from the scene as your team members fight off the rest of them.

“Agust!” You scream, struggling to get out of the guards’ hold on you.

The frantic call of his name causes him to turn to see you being dragged off, his eyes widening in shock. Not even a moment later, anger takes over his features as he fights to get to you, shouting for the guards to release you at once. Unfortunately for the both of you, they don’t listen.

The last thing you see before your world goes black is Agust fighting against a guard to get to you through the newly formed crowd, calling out your name in hopes he can reach you before you disappear from his sight.

About two hours later, you come to, a groan escaping your lips as you bring your hand up to rub your head. Your brow furrows slightly as you realize your wrists are not bound, nor are your legs. In fact, you’re not tied up at all, or in a dungeon for that matter. You appear to be in the throne room, laying on a small mat placed in the centre of the room. 

You can hardly believe where you are right now, let alone that you’re not tied up. You begin to wonder why it is you’re here, and who exactly brought you to the palace. Hopefully, you’ll get some answers soon, and hopefully it’ll be enough to calm your racing heart of its nerves.

Giving a quick glance around the room, you notice that you’re alone. However, movement from the direction of the throne catches your eyes, and your original assumption of being alone is disproven.

The king shifts in his seat, golden hair pinned on the top of his head as he smirks down at your figure, now getting to your feet somewhat unsteadily. He stands up, staring you down like a predator would their prey, smirk growing wider with every step he takes towards you. You swear he’s taunting you with every step he takes, causing a small shiver of fear to run down your spine.

One of the first things you notice once he’s close enough, is the harsh scar that runs vertically down his right eye, as if someone tried, and failed, to blind him. If he didn’t intimidate you so much at the moment you would say it adds to his character.

The next thing you notice, is his striking resemblance to someone whom you know. In fact, it’s so striking, that you have to rub your eyes a few times to make sure you’re not delusional, or dreaming for that matter. Once you open your eyes again, you see him standing a few feet away from you, looking at you curiously, with his head tilted slightly in a mocking manner.

You straighten your back, refusing to show him fear as you meet his gaze. He simply quirks a brow in amusement at the disbelief shining in your eyes.

“I can see why he likes you,” he hums, and you’re taken aback slightly. His voice is almost identical to Agust’s, except it’s slightly deeper, more firm. It’s suiting for the voice of a king.

“Excuse me?” You quirk a brow, trailing your eyes over his figure as you try and wrap your head around how he could possibly look like the man you’re in love with.

“Don’t play dumb, you and I both know that he’s in love with you, as you are also, unfortunately, with him,” he states, nearly rolling his eyes.

“Why do you look so much like Agust?” The words slip past your lips before you can stop them, your curiosity getting the better of you.

“Agust?” His face scrunches in distaste, voice full of confusion. “Who the hell is-“ realization dawns on his features and he tuts, shaking his head in mock disappointment, “you’re fucking kidding me, he didn’t even tell you his real name?”

“Real name? What real name?” Now, it’s your turn to voice your confusion, brow furrowing along with your statement.

“My brother certainly has a flair for the dramatics,” he sighs, shaking his head once more.

“Brother?” You’re taken aback.

“Yes, brother,” he meets your gaze, an amused gleam reflecting in his eyes. “The one whom you claim to love, and supposedly loves you back, but hasn’t even told you his real name, or the fact that the king, whom he is so desperately trying to overthrow, is his brother.” At your wide eyes, he grins, continuing, “yes, I know all about his little schemes, and all about you, (Y/n). I knew about your plans to assassinate me today and I was prepared. I also know how much you mean to him, or so he claims, so I decided to take matters into my own hands and take you away from him. Believe me, you’ll thank me later.”

He hums as he turns around, making his way back to his throne as you attempt to collect your thoughts. This whole time, Agust had a twin brother, who’s the king, no less, that he’s trying to murder? Not to mention this king knows about your relationship.

“Why would you ever think I’d thank you for taking me away from him?” You say once you ground yourself, taking a few steps towards the throne where he’s seated once more.

“Because my brother has a habit of hurting the things he loves most,” he replies, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Don’t worry though, I’ve decided that the best way to keep you safe from him is to make you my wife.”

“Excuse me?” Your statement from earlier returns, albeit more astounded.

“You don’t actually have to marry me, it’s just for appearances sake,” he shrugs casually, as if this whole mess is beneath him. “I won’t force you into anything you’re uncomfortable with, I’m not my brother. However, you can’t leave the palace without me now, for safety.”

“I did not agree to this!” You shout.

“I know you didn’t, hence why I’m not forcing you to actually marry me,” he rolls his eyes. “It was the best I could think of given the circumstances.”

“Do you really think he won’t come for me?” You counter, eyes narrow as you stare him down.

“Damn, you’ve got some nerve glaring at your king like that,” he chuckles, leaning forward in his seat. “And I expect him to, that’s the whole point.”

“I can’t believe this,” you shake your head, “you really are a monster.”

“I can see you’ve bought into his lies,” he sighs.

“He’s only opened my eyes to the truth about you,” you spit, arms crossed in front of your chest.

“Tell me, have you ever seen me do any of the things he’s told you I have? Like steal money from those already struggling to get by? Or beheading those who don’t deserve it?” He looks at you expectantly, and you keep your mouth shut. “There are rules I have to follow as king, just like how there are rules you have to follow in society. I have never done the things he’s brainwashed you to believe, and I would never willingly subject my people to torment and famine. I am not who I’m made out to be, just as he’s not who you think he is.”

“I don’t believe you,” you state, jaw clenched in anger.

“You don’t have to,” he huffs, leaning back in his throne once more. “Over time, you’ll see for yourself the lies he’s fed you. I swear to you I only want what’s best for my people. I won’t lie and say I’m perfect, but I am not as horrible as he makes me out to be.”

“Sure,” you scoff, turning your head to the side so you no longer have to look at him.

“Oh my, where are my manners,” he chuckles, smirk now back on his face. “I haven’t even properly introduced myself yet.” Standing up, he slowly makes his way down the few steps to where you’re standing at the base of his throne. “Allow me to properly introduce myself, I’m King Suga, and it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, (Y/n). I look forward to having you as a wife.” 

You scowl at his own malicious smile as he bows respectfully at you, almost mockingly. He stares at you expectantly as he straightens up, “what? No formal bow for your husband to be? Your parents raised you better than that, (Y/n).”

Reluctantly, you bow back, scowl ever present on your face as he smirks victoriously down at you. So far, your first impression of the king is not a good one, and you can’t wait to get out of here. Hopefully, Agust comes for you soon.

You frown once more at your thoughts, now knowing that Agust’s real name is not actually Agust. Though, you’re curious as to what it really is.

“Something bothering you, darling?” Suga grins, able to read the turmoil on your face as clear as day.

You hesitate for a moment before asking, “what’s his real name?”

“Ah, so you are curious,” he hums, amusement shining in his eyes. “His real name is Yoongi, though I’m surprised he didn’t tell you, considering how much he supposedly loves you.”

“Why am I not in the dungeons right now? I did try to help assassinate you,” you ignore him in favour of changing the subject.

“You see, I’ve had people watching you for a long time now, and I know how much my brother has brainwashed you. I can tell you’re a good person, and I really don’t want to hurt you,” he says, eyes locking with yours. “I’ve always had to clean up my brother’s messes, and if I can help you while doing so, then I can wash my hands with him for good. You don’t deserve to be subjected to his insanity.”

“He’s not crazy,” you snap.

“That’s what you think,” he chuckles. “Come, I’ll show you to your room.”

Before you can say another word, he’s walking to the main entrance of the throne room, not even bothering to look behind him to see if you’re following him. You let out a sigh before jogging to catch up to him.

Making it outside, you can’t help the small gasp that escapes past your lips at how grand the courtyard is. However, the rain isn’t the only thing that serves to dampen your mood.

Spread out evenly on either side of the main pathway lies eight dead bodies, all covered in straw mats. You see the scrolls laid out on top of the mats and you grit your teeth in anger. These were members of your team, the familiar symbol on the scrolls tell enough. You wonder how many others lost their lives today.

Suga glances at you from over his shoulder and sees your solemn look, “tragic, really. Unnecessary lives lost for a lost cause. We caught the majority of the rebels, and unfortunately, I’ll have to make a statement with them, otherwise I might have a full out rebellion on my hands, and you can see why that would be a bad thing.”

“Terrible,” your voice drips with sarcasm.

“I’m sorry you’ve been dragged into this,” he sighs, and you blink in surprise at how sincere he sounds.

You remain silent, following him through the palace grounds until you reach a separate building which houses many separate rooms. You see a few people milling here and there, all of whom bow to Suga as he walks past, so you can only assume they’re his staff. You wonder how many of them would believe he’s kidnapped you if you pleaded for help.

“This will be your room,” he says, reaching one of two doors at the end of the hall and sliding it open. Your eyes widen as you take in the grandiose space before you. “My room is close by incase you need anything, but don’t even think about trying anything. I always have guards stationed outside, and they’re all at my beck and call. The staff and guards all know of your situation, so good luck asking for help escaping.”

Well, there goes that idea. You sigh, stepping past him and into your new room.

“What about my clothes?” You quirk a brow at him.

“What about them?” He replies, grin tugging at his features. “Since you’ll be playing the part of my wife all of your outfits from now on will be provided by me and the staff. You won’t have to wear ceremonial stuff everyday, only on special occasions, so feel free to let them know what style of dress you like best.”

“You seem pretty trusting of me, considering everything that’s been done already,” you say, suspicious of his real intentions.

He lets out a long sigh, “look, I’ve already told you, I’m not who you think I am. Now, get some rest, you’ll need it.”

“Why?” You ask, crossing your arms once more in front of your chest.

“I already told you, I have to make an example out of the rebels we caught,” he replies, hand on the door as he steps out of the room. “Tomorrow morning, prepare for some beheadings.”

Without another word, he slides the door to your room closed. Your eyes remained fixed on the spot where he was just standing, still unable to wrap your head around this entire situation. Lowering yourself into a crouched position, you go over everything you’ve just learnt.

To begin with, Agust, or well, Yoongi, has a twin brother who is the king. He never told you of his brother, or his real name for that matter. This only makes you begin to question the other things he’s told you throughout your time of knowing him, along with what else he’s hidden from you. If he’s able to lie so easily about his family, maybe he doesn’t fully trust you. You’re unsure if you can even say he fully loves you now, or if that was all a lie, too.

A small knock at the door manages to pull you out of your thoughts. Before you can respond, the door is sliding open to reveal a girl, maybe just a few years younger than you.

“Excuse me, miss, my name is Minha and I’ve been appointed as your personal assistant by the king himself,” she bows respectfully. “Anything you need, anything at all, please do not hesitate to ask.”

“I don’t suppose you could help me sneak out of here?” You inquire, quirking a brow as she stands up straight once more.

“Unfortunately, I cannot do that, and if you attempt to do so, I will have to alert the guards,” she replies, blinking at you a few times.

“Then why did you come?” You sigh, running a hand over your cheeks in exasperation.

“I’ve been instructed to prepare you for bed,” she replies, hands clasped gently in front of herself.

“I see,” you respond, watching as she closes the door behind herself and begins to make her way over to where you are still crouched on the floor.

“Come, my lady, let’s get you ready for bed,” she says, helping you to your feet.

You say nothing as she moves around the room, pulling out the most extravagant nightgown you’ve ever seen in your life. She bathes you and does your hair for when you’ll be sleeping before dressing you in the gown. Once she’s done, she takes your old clothes with her and bids you a goodnight, saying she’ll be back in the morning to help you get ready once again.

Laying on your back, you stare at the ceiling. A sigh slips past your lips in frustration, throwing the covers off of yourself in a hurry. Like hell you’re staying here. You can tell you won’t be able to sleep easily anyways, so you might as well do something productive like try and escape while you’re up. Besides, you’re not going down without a fight.

Each attempt to escape results in a guard or two escorting you back to your room. So far, you’ve attempted three times to escape, each a few hours apart, but to no avail. Now, you’re stuck with two guards stationed at every entrance in and out of your room. 

Just as you predict, you barely get any sleep that night, and early the next morning, Minha is back with a soft knock on your door.

“Good morning, my lady, it’s time to get up,” she greets you with another bow as you groan in discontent.

Reluctantly, you let her get you ready for the day, and you can hardly believe what you’re dressed in at the moment. A red ceremonial dress surrounds your figure, complete with golden hairpins which keep your hair in its place upon your head. So much for wearing what you want.

“If you would follow me, miss,” Minha bows, leading the way out of your room.

Silently, you follow her. The two of you weave through a few corridors until you make it outside, and you notice some of the staff you pass by bowing to you out of respect. You know for a fact you look the part of the king’s fiancée at the moment, so it doesn’t surprise you, but it’s still a weird feeling.

Within minutes, you’ve been lead up a flight of stairs just outside a separate courtyard from the main one. This one overlooks the village, and you know that some have gathered to witness the executions that will take place today. After all, Suga did say he wanted to make a display out of it.

Taking a deep breath, the doors to the balcony are pushed open, allowing you access to the other side. Hesitantly, you step through, already noticing boxes upon boxes stacked around a single chair. You don’t even need to guess what these boxes contain, for the hair you see sticking out of them, as well as the smell of rotting flesh is enough tell for you.

Moving around the throne, if you can even call it that, you see Suga looking out at the scene below him while leaning on the railing. You also see three wooden poles sticking out along the bottom of the railing, each with a white sack tied to the end. Stepping closer, you gag, noticing how red stains the bottom of each sack due to the severed head in each one.

Hearing you approaching, Suga spares a glance at you over his shoulder, malicious smirk evident on his face. He’s doing a horrible job of convincing you that he’s not the sadist Agust has made him out to be.

“How nice of you to join us,” he hums, turning his head back to look at the scene below him as you come to stand just behind him to the left. “You look nice.”

“This is disgusting and outright cruel,” you spit, features twisting in disgust as he motions for the next neck to be cut.

“Good thing I started before you got here then,” he replies nonchalantly. “I take it you didn’t sleep well?”

“Not at all,” you huff, doing your best to look anywhere but at the horrors that lay before you.

“My guards tell me you attempted to escape, not once, but three times,” he says, sparing a glance at you over his shoulder once more. “Doesn’t surprise me.”

“You don’t seem so concerned,” you reply, voice flat as you focus your gaze to the side where a lantern is blowing in the breeze.

“Sweetheart, if I was concerned you’d escape I’d keep you locked up in a dungeon,” he grins sarcastically, and you scowl. “Now, there’s only one more head to roll and you need to stand beside me for this.”

“I will do no such thing,” you refuse, standing your ground as you turn your gaze back onto him, seeing him looking expectantly at you.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, you don’t have to watch,” he rolls his eyes, stepping towards you in order to grab your arm and lead you to the railing where he’s been standing this entire time. “Just stand here silently, and look pretty. You’ve already got one of them down, now all you need to do is shut up.”

You scoff in response, straightening your back as you look over the crowd that’s formed to watch these executions. You can’t help but let your eyes drift over the scene directly below you either, noticing how a line of bodies lay in a row off to the side, straw mats covering headless figures bleeding onto the ground. Only one person kneels before the executioner now with a sack tied over their head. You don’t have to strain your ears to hear their muffled sobs coming through the cloth.

However, your gaze is drawn once more to the shifting crowd. Some whispers reach your ears from them, discussing things like who you might be, and why you’re there. You notice Suga smirking out of the corner of your eyes.

“Now, finally, our last rebel in our possession,” Suga’s commanding voice booms, addressing the crowd. “On with it.”

In the blink of an eye, the executioner lifts his large blade into the air before bringing it down in a fatal swing, cutting the head clean off of the body. You turn your head to the side just in time to avoid seeing the results, but you still manage to hear the dull thunk the head makes as it comes into contact with the ground.

“Let this be known, all those who conspire against the crown will receive the same fate: decapitation. Any threat towards myself as king, or towards my fiancée and your future queen, will be dealt as such: just punishment as those rebels received today,” he calls, gaze harsh as he looks out over his kingdom. You spare a glance at him, clenching your teeth in an attempt to keep your face neutral and remain passive in this moment. He seems to enjoy this, and that fact only makes you more disgusted with him. He continues, “go now, and keep in mind the justice that has been dealt today. Any threat against me is a threat against the kingdom. Be warned.”

With those words, he’s swiftly turning around, grabbing your arm and leading you back through the doors and down the steps that lead back into the palace. You half stumble after him, and it’s not until you reach the centre of the courtyard that you’re able to rip your arm from his grasp.

“Unhand me,” you spit, taking a step back to put some distance between the two of you.

“My apologies,” he gets out through gritted teeth, turning to stare you down. “I assumed the only way to handle you was by force considering you refused to listen to me today. Besides, having dealt with my brother, I was sure you’d be used to it by now.”

“Agust isn’t-“ seeing the way his eyebrow quirks has you stopping yourself before continuing, “I mean, Yoongi, has never forced himself on me.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Suga sighs, shaking his head exasperatedly before walking off.

“Excuse me!” You call after him, rushing to catch up. “Then what exactly did you mean?”

“I’m sure my brother is not the gentlest of creatures when it comes to you,” he says, as if he’s stating the obvious. “Knowing my brother, he’s used to getting what he wants, when he wants it, so I’m sure he’s been short with you, and even rougher in his handlings of you.”

“I-“ you’re about to rebuttal when a frown crosses your features. In all the time you’ve know Agust, he has been a bit rough with you, especially at the beginning of your relationship with him. He’d always pull you around and keep a secure grip either on your wrist, hand, or even your waist. You remember the first few times he did so, he hurt you from it, which, thinking back on it, keeps you silent now, but not for long. “He’s never meant to hurt me. Unlike you.”

“I’ve already told you, I’m doing all of this for your own protection,” he sighs.

The two of you have reached the main throne room now, and you continue to follow behind him until he sits on his throne. You glare up at him while he stares down at you.

“You’re twisted if you think this is what protection entails,” you counter, head held high in defiance.

“Stubborn, just like him. I see more of what he sees in you every time we interact,” he chuckles, amused at your actions. “Don’t worry, you’ll see soon enough how delusional my brother is. Why don’t you go explore the palace now, seeing as you’ll be living here for quite a while.”

With that, he snaps his fingers and Minha comes bustling into the room, bowing politely to both you and Suga. He instructs her to give you a tour around the grounds, and reluctantly, you let Minha guide you out of the throne room, but not before sending the nastiest glare you can muster over your shoulder at the king.

The tour with Minha takes a few hours, and by the time you’re done, you’ve discovered that the gardens and the library are your two favourite places you’ve seen so far. Minha insisted on telling you everything she knows about the palace, from construction, to little details of her life throughout the grounds. In fact, this surprises you, seeing as you thought she wouldn’t be educated about these sorts of things. So much so, that you asked her about how she knows so much. She tells you that as part of her staff training, as well as all other members of staff, the king insists to educate them all.

This fact surprises you, as you were lead to believe the king keeps all of his staff uneducated in order to trick them and rule over them easier. You certainly weren’t expecting Minha to be the one to tell you of how kind Suga can be at times. Well, part of you thinks it’s just because he probably told her to do so, but she seemed so genuine in her praise of him that you can’t be too sure. However, you do appreciate the fact that he educates his staff accordingly.

Over the course of the next three weeks, you learn many more things about the king through not only the staff, but through the king himself. Despite him getting people to practically stalk yours and Agust’s relationship, he was able to learn your favourite foods, flowers, and even favourite pastimes. He made sure that you had whatever you needed while you’re staying with him, though you always found some way to twist it around and let him know that just because he’s being nice to you now, doesn’t change who he is, nor how he behaved in the first twenty-four hours of you knowing him.

Since you’ve arrived, you’ve also continuously attempted to escape, but to no avail. Less so the past few days, as you’ve gotten a bit more comfortable around the palace, but you still don’t like the idea of being Suga’s fake wife and being held against your will. Though, every day, it’s getting harder for you to admit that it’s comfortable staying her.

Your favourite place to be in the palace is definitely the gardens, as you spend your days there reading and taking in the scenery. You love the smell of the flowers surrounding you, and you find you can have time to yourself, time to think.

The longer you spend away from Agust, the less attached to him you feel, and the more time you have to think over all of his actions. Suga is right in some ways, in the fact that Agust was very forceful with you since the beginning, and even now, you’re suspicious of certain traits Agust showed to you while you were together with him. Though, you’re still unsure of what it all means, or how you haven’t gone insane from it yourself.

About two and a half weeks ago, you were told by none other than the king himself that Yoongi tried to break into the palace to rescue you. Your hope of freedom skyrocketed at this, but was soon crushed after Suga told you that Yoongi escaped from the guards before getting very far. As far as you know, there hasn’t been another attempt, but there’s a part of you that feels like Agust is waiting for the perfect time to strike before rescuing you. You just hope it’s sooner, rather than later.

It’s early in the afternoon when you are called into the king’s presence in the throne room. Having been dressed into a ceremonial gown this morning, you figured such a calling to be coming today, but you still are reluctant to go, nevertheless. 

Entering the throne room, you see Suga in his usual spot sitting on his throne. You quirk a brow at him as he stands to greet you, something which he’s taken to doing more recently.

“How are you today?” He asks, as you stand to the left of his throne while he sits back down.

“Could be better,” you sigh, “being held against my will really takes a toll on my being.”

He chuckles, seeing as your response has become somewhat expected from you now, though he can tell there’s a teasing undertone to it. “Well, my apologies for interrupting whatever plans of sitting in the garden you had today. I needed you here to discuss some important matters, but also to act in your duty as my fake fiancée.”

“What do you need me to do?” You quirk a brow, looking down at him with your arms crossed. You’re not exactly happy about this, but you have nothing better to do, as he so bluntly put it.

“The guards are about to bring in a captured rebel, and I was hoping for your help in deciding what to do with him,” he replies.

“What, no execution?” You gasp, surprised. “I thought that’s what awaited all rebels, as per your not so subtle announcement a few weeks ago.”

“I figured another execution would be a bit much just for one captured rebel,” he says, looking out into the courtyard due to the doors being left open on such a nice day. “Besides, I figured I can show you that I’m really not as bad as I seem if I allow for you to agree upon a proper punishment with me.”

“What makes you think I’ll agree to any punishment for this rebel?” You ask, looking straight ahead.

“For starters, even if you’re to be fake queen, you need to be prepared to still help me make these decisions so outsiders don’t get suspicious,” he tells you, looking to you expectantly as he explains. “Two, I figured you’d be grateful I didn’t just decide to behead this rebel, for you might know them. And three, they are still a rebel and I still need to make an example out of them through punishment.”

“I don’t like this,” you murmur, a frown pulling at your features.

“You don’t have to,” comes his reply, gaze being drawn to the figures now moving towards the throne room from the courtyard. His eyebrow twitches as he recognizes one figure in particular.

“Besides, how am I meant to make a decision when you’re the only one who gets a seat,” you complain, rolling your eyes semi-teasingly.

“My goodness, where are my manners?” He chuckles, placing a hand on his chest in mock offence. “We’ll have to get you a throne of your own, since you will be my queen.”

“You sure are going to great lengths to solidify this ruse of yours,” you mumble, yet he chooses to ignore it.

“For now, you’re more than welcome to share my throne,” he smirks, looking up at you smugly as he watches your shocked reaction. “Hope you don’t mind.”

You manage to close your mouth in the next second instead of letting it hang open. Composing yourself, you tilt your chin up, “I think I will.”

Now, it’s his turn to be shocked as you move over to the open space left beside him on the throne. Luckily, it’s large enough for you to do this, but your dress is too big for you to sit comfortable. Deciding to see how far you can push him into annoyance, you swing your legs over his own, leaning back onto the armrest of the throne as you watch his eyes widen in surprise this time.

“Hope you don’t mind,” you repeat his words from only moments ago as you notice his mildly flustered expression. The tips of his ears start to turn red, and you can’t help but notice how he and his brother are similar in that way.

Within seconds, he’s composing himself, a smirk coming to rest on his features as he places his arms over your legs, “not at all.” You scoff, slapping his hands away as he chuckles, “I rather like this position.”

“Don’t be getting any ideas,” you retort, crossing your arms in front of your chest as his hands move back to grasping your legs.

“If anyone’s giving me ideas, it’s you,” he grins, flicking his brow in amusement. He leans forward to tease you more, inching his face closer to yours. “I had no idea you’d be this good at acting as my queen.”

“I’m not acting!” You immediately defend yourself, but then curse as you realize how that may have sounded, and judging from his amused expression, he understood. “That’s not what I meant!”

“I’m sure it’s not,” his grin only widens as he notices the guards bringing the captured rebel into the room, of which you’ve yet to notice. “Want to practice unifying our vows, too?”

You let out a gasp as he wiggles his brows suggestively, but before you can respond, an all too familiar voice pulls you out of your thoughts as your protests die in your throat.

“(Y/n)?” Agust’s broken voice reaches your ears, causing you to whip your head in his direction to see him forced to his knees on the floor below the throne.

“Agust?” Your heart sinks in your chest as you throw Suga’s hands off of you in order to stand up and rush over to him. However, before you can take a step forward, you feel arms around your waist holding you in place.

“Get your filthy fucking hands off of her,” Yoongi growls, struggling to be free of his bonds, which only earns him a hit on the back of the head from one of the guards. He lets out a grunt.

“It’s nice to see you, too, brother,” Suga hums, and being able to feel his breath on your neck sends a shiver down your spine in disgust.

“What have you done?” Yoongi seethes through his teeth, glaring Suga down from where he’s kneeling on the floor.

“Me? I’ve done nothing,” Suga says, feigning innocence as he moves to stand beside you with his arm still wrapped around your waist.

“Agust, please, I-“ before you can say anything, you’re cut off.

“Still calling him that, huh? I thought I told you that’s not his name,” Suga tuts, and you see Yoongi’s eyes flash maliciously at his brother.

“You lie,” he spits, struggling once more in his bonds.

“On the contrary, brother,” Suga hums, clearly amused at the turmoil you show on your face. “You were the liar this time around. Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

With that, Suga turns his gaze to you as Agust looks at you almost pleadingly.

“Why did you lie to me about your name, Yoongi?” Your voice comes out small, as if you’ve just revealed a secret you shouldn’t have.

“I was going to tell you, I swear on my life,” he begins, eyes full of sorrow as he looks at your dejected expression. “I hate that name so much, and I never want to associate with it, that’s why I never told you before.”

“Bullshit!” His brother spits, eyes narrow as he stares Yoongi down. “What else have you lied about to her, huh? Not only did you lie about your name, but about me as well! You know, she had no idea that you had a brother, let alone a twin who was king when she arrived here-“

“You mean when you kidnapped her!” Yoongi interjects angrily, receiving another hit on the back of his head.

“When I saved her from you,” Suga corrects. “How many lies have you fed her, Yoongi? About me? About us? About you?” He scoffs, “hell, you even made her believe you loved her, poor thing.”

“I do love her,” Yoongi’s voice is low, like an oncoming storm as he looks up at Suga from under his fringe that now hangs over his eyes.

“Oh, come now, brother,” Suga jests, tightening his arm’s hold around your waist as you stand there, stunned. “We both know you don’t have the capacity to love anyone but yourself. How long were you planning on stringing her along for?”

“No,” Yoongi growls, not wanting to hear his brother talk about this any longer, especially when it concerns you.

“Don’t worry, brother, I’ll take care of her now since it’s clear to me that you’re incapable of doing so,” Suga says, voice tauntingly hanging in the air. “I mean, look how easily she fits into the role of my queen.”

“How dare you,” Yoongi says through gritted teeth.

“I mean, maybe if you were honest with her, she would have been more loyal to you,” Suga hums, mocking pity.

“Yoongi, that’s not true, I still love-“

“Shut up,” Yoongi spits, cutting you off before you can say much more. The words of his brother are clearly affecting him, and seeing you wrapped in his brother’s arms is driving Yoongi insane.

“Yoongi-“ your expression drops as you watch the man you’re in love with shake with rage below you.

“Don’t call me that, you bitch,” he glares at you, and you’re taken aback at how his anger is now directed towards you. His emotions are running wild at the moment, his brother’s words affecting him more than he’d like to admit, and giving him the idea that you were never really on his side to begin with. “Three weeks alone and you’d willingly open your legs to the first male that shows you any attention, and to my bastard of a brother, no less.”

“No, Agust, you don’t understand-“ you attempt to defend yourself, caught off guard by his vicious words being directed towards you instead of his brother.

“I knew you were a loose end when you went and got yourself fucking kidnapped during the ambush,” his words are venom, piercing your heart with every syllable. “I bet you were on his fucking side this whole time, you traitorous whore.”

“Agust, please-“ tears dot your vision as he turns his hatred to you, assuming the worst. It’s as if he never knew you at all.

“I have no use for you anymore,” he turns his head away from you to avoid seeing the heartbroken look on your face. “You’re dead to me.”

You barely register Suga’s arm slipping from your waist, nor the way your body sways slightly down the steps leading down to where Yoongi is kneeling. Only once you stand before him, and he turns his gaze to lock with yours do you realize you’ve moved.

Seeing your heartbroken look on your features causes him to bite his lip, steeling his own emotions in order to face you. Nothing good he has can last, his brother always has to ruin it for him, and now, Suga’s taken you away from him. However, were you ever his to begin with?

“I gave up everything for you, so that everything I did could be for you,” you manage to choke out as a single tear escapes down your cheek. “I’m sorry that you can’t see that.”

Turning away from him as more tears escape your eyes, you make your exit out of the throne room, not being able to bear staying in there any longer. It’s clear to you that Agust cares little for you, or what you’ve been through, so why should you care for him any more?

With each step you take away from him, your heart cracks more and more, his harsh words echoing around your head. This is all too much for you to handle right now, and combined with your thoughts about Suga probably knowing the captured rebel was Agust, your head is spinning. He planned this, or at least, that’s what you keep telling yourself.

Meanwhile, the two of them watch your retreating figure for as long as they can until you disappear out of sight. Yoongi looks down at the floor as Suga lets out a low whistle.

“You really blew it this time, brother,” he tuts, shaking his head.

“Is this all a fucking game to you?” Yoongi spits, turning his glare once more to the man standing before him.

“No, but you seem to be playing it poorly,” Suga smirks. “You really do have a habit of hurting those which you love most, don’t you? To think, she would have done anything for you all but two minutes ago.”

“You turned her against me!” Yoongi yells.

“I did no such thing,” Suga counters, quirking a brow down at his brother. “If anything, you’ve just killed her love for you.”

“You planned this!”

“I did no such thing. Contrary to popular belief, I own up to my mistakes instead of pushing the blame onto someone else,” Suga says, moving to sit back on his throne. “Now, onto business. Seeing as my queen is no longer here to help me make this decision, I will have to act on both our behalves. To think I was going to let you live, too,” he sighs, shaking his head in mock disappointment. “However, given the circumstances, I think I will go through with my original plan and execute you for your treacherous acts against the crown and this kingdom. One week from now, your head will roll.”

With a wave of his hand, the guards are dragging Yoongi out of the throne room despite his protests. A malicious smile rests on Suga’s features, which is the last thing Yoongi sees before being dragged out of the room. Neither can believe what has just happened just now.

Back in your room, you continuously sob into your pillow. The man you thought you knew, and who you thought knew you as well, has just broken your heart. Never, in your wildest dreams, could you have ever imagined Agust capable of spitting such harsh words at you. Maybe Suga was right, maybe you really didn’t know him at all, and maybe, just maybe, he never really loved you.

Minha came to check on you about an hour ago, but you sent her away, not wanting to deal with anyone at the moment. You feel a bit bad for snapping at her, though, but she assured you before she left that she understands it wasn’t intentional.

Two hours later, as you’re silently staring at the wall in front of you and feeling numb, you hear a soft knock on the door to your room. You say nothing, yet you still hear the sound of the door sliding open and someone entering your room before closing the door once more behind them. You’ve also noticed how the sun has started to set, and the candles starting to be lit around the palace. Maybe it’s been more than two hours, as time seems to pass unknowingly for you at the moment.

The striking of a match can be heard as said person moves around the room lighting the lanterns. You remain quiet as you continue to stare at the wall, not bothering to see who it is that’s entered your room.

“I brought you some food,” Suga’s voice sounds off to your side, a plate being placed beside you as you hear him sit down.

“If you’ve come to gloat, I’m not in the mood,” you sigh, turning to see your favourite food on the plate beside you.

“I wouldn’t think of it at a time like this,” comes his response. “I’ve come to apologize on behalf of my brother, and clean up his mess once again.”

“I don’t want to hear it,” you say, voice small as you stare intently at the food on the plate.

“I want you to know that I truly am sorry for my brother and how he’s hurt you,” he goes on to say. “You don’t deserve that.”

“Thank you,” you huff, crossing your arms in the next moment as you turn your back to him fully. “I suppose you’re about to say ‘I told you so’ and ‘how could you be so foolish’ next, right?”

“I know my brother to be deceiving, but that doesn’t mean the pain hurts any less when it happens to others,” he says, voice soft as if to coax you to turn around and face him.

“I just can’t believe he would say that, to me! I thought- well, I don’t know what I thought, I just don’t know what to think anymore,” you sigh, tears dotting your vision once more. “Did he ever even care for me?”

“I’m afraid you won’t like my answer,” Suga states, and the tears you had managed to get under control reappear.

“Fuck,” you mutter, wiping at your eyes. “I hate this.”

“I’m sorry. I truly am,” he places a gentle hand on your back in comfort. “Is there anything I can do to cheer you up at the moment?”

“I don’t know,” you reply honestly.

“Well, is there anything you’ve always wanted to do before that you couldn’t?” He asks, and an idea pops into your mind.

“I’ve always wanted to learn how to fight,” his eyes widen slightly in surprise at your statement. “Maybe wield a sword.”

“We can do that,” he nods, and you finally turn to meet his gaze.

“Really?” You perk up, hope shining in your eyes.

“I mean, I am skilled with a blade, so who better to teach you than your husband-to-be?” He smiles at you, and for once, it’s a genuine smile of comfort, not sarcastic in any way.

“You really mean that? You’ll teach me?” You ask, lips twitching upwards at the corners at the thought of learning what you’ve always wanted to learn.

“Of course,” he replies with a nod. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“He never wanted me to learn,” you grumble, eyes downcast as you think about Agust once more, your heart clenching in pain in your chest.

“Well, I’m not him, so don’t worry your pretty little head,” he says, standing up from his position as he pats the top of your hair comfortingly. “Get some rest and make sure to eat that. We can start your training tomorrow.”

“Okay,” you shoot him a small smile, to which he responds with his own.

Bidding you a goodnight, he exits your room, closing the door gently behind him. 

You let out a small sigh once you’re alone again. Drying your tears, you pick up the plate of food and begin eating. Maybe you should have had more faith in Suga from the beginning, for he doesn’t seem like such a bad guy once you get to know him. He is king, so just like he said, he does have rules he has to follow, yet he’s consistently proven you wrong in most assumptions you had of him. Maybe, you were wrong about him.

Soon after you finish eating, you quickly get yourself ready for bed and do your best to sleep. Your thoughts wander the entire evening over what has transpired today, as well as everything leading up to this moment. 

You most certainly are heartbroken over Agust, and you know it’ll take some time to get over him. However, you know you need to let him go, for the way he treated you today was evidence enough to you that he never truly cared for you. You don’t need him anymore, and living out the rest of your days as a fake queen doesn’t seem so bad considering everything you’ve experienced at the palace so far. At least you have a friend in Minha, or at least, you think you do.

The next day rolls around and even though you’re still quite upset about everything going on, you’re looking forward to your first sword lesson tonight. You remind yourself to ask Suga about what will happen to Yoongi now, too, but you figure you should only ask when you’re ready or he brings it up himself.

Before you know it, the evening rolls around and you’re back in the throne room with Suga, who is going over the basics with you. He instructs you on how to properly hold a sword, about its balance, and even some basic stances to start. To say you enjoy this time would be an understatement.

For the next five days, the two of you continue to meet in the evenings for sword training, and you can happily say you’ve learnt so much already. Suga’s currently teaching you how to block properly, but you’ve both decided to take a small break.

“You’re doing very well, I’m impressed,” he compliments you, and you look away, slightly bashful.

“Thank you,” you reply, a shy smile pulling at your lips. “I never understood why Agust- sorry, Yoongi never let me learn how to wield a sword.”

“You’re used to calling him that, so it’s fine,” he replies. “I think I know why, but you won’t like my answer.”

“Please, tell me,” you meet his gaze, letting him know to continue.

He lets out a sigh, “it’s easier for him to control you if you don’t know how to fight back against him.”

“He was worried I would use my knowledge of fighting against him?” You question, brow furrowed in confusion.

“The easiest way to control people is if you have power over them, and by keeping you unarmed he could bend you to his will without worrying about you fighting back,” he explains, and something clicks in your mind.

“That makes sense,” you nod, “he would always joke about keeping me locked up for my own protection, so I guess if I didn’t know how to fight him I wouldn’t be able to escape him. Both physically and figuratively.”

“Exactly,” he confirms. “My brother loves control, and when he doesn’t get his way, he acts out and hurts those that are closest to him. How do you think I got this scar?”

He points to his right eye, lip twitching upwards sadly.

You frown, “what happened?”

“It was when we were younger, I don’t exactly remember how old I was,” he shakes his head slightly, as if willing the images he’s about to share to go away. “I just remember waking up in the middle of the night to him on top of me holding a knife in his hand. The pain as he slowly started dragging the blade down my face was like nothing I had ever felt before, and he seemed to want to draw it out for as long as possible. He had gagged me so I couldn’t scream, but luckily a guard was walking by outside my room and heard the commotion going on inside and managed to get him off of me before my vision could become impaired.”

“That’s awful,” you gasp, hands coming up to cover your mouth. You never thought Agust would be capable of something like that, but then again, you still don’t know if you ever really knew him as well as you thought you did.

“My parents were furious and sent him away after that,” he continues. “He kept spitting nonsense about me and they couldn’t take it anymore; too many times acting out.”

“I’m so sorry that happened,” you say, watching as he takes a deep breath to calm himself.

“Ever since then, he’s always plotted to kill me, and now that I’m king, it’s transpired into spreading false rumours about me and propaganda against me to get anyone to join his cause,” he tells you, and you shake your head. To think that only a month ago you had bought into Yoongi’s lies. “Luckily, I won’t have to deal with him for much longer.”

The words escape you more panicked than you intend, “what do you mean?”

“He’s to be executed tomorrow at dusk,” Suga replies, and your breath hitches.

“Maybe,” you take a shaky breath, “maybe it’s for the best.”

You don’t know if your words are meant more for your own comfort, or for his at this point.

“I hope so,” he sighs. “Having to execute your own blood is never easy.”

“I can only imagine,” you say, staring off into the distance.

A moment of silence passes over the two of you before he’s speaking once more.

“Why don’t we call in a night, it’s been a long day,” he suggests, to which you nod in agreement. “Regarding tomorrow, I don’t expect you to like it, but I want you to be there.”

“I-“ you swallow the lump that’s in your throat, “I understand.”

Without another word, you’re heading back to your room for the evening, thinking over everything that you’ve learnt tonight. You never thought you’d quietly stand by while Agust got executed, yet here you are. Yes, you are hurt, but this will all be for the best. By this time tomorrow, it will all be over.

The next day drags on, a feeling of dread following you everywhere you go. Even the garden offers you no solace this day as you wait for it to be time for Yoongi’s execution. You can still hardly believe this is happening, and you wouldn’t say you’re okay with this, but you also aren’t going to put a stop to it either.

Suga tells you that the execution will take place in the main courtyard this evening, and that he’ll meet you outside the entrance to the throne room when it’s time. You haven’t seen him since dinner, and you’re a little worried, anxiety clawing at your insides. You’ve barely stopped pacing in your spot since the sun started setting.

Meanwhile, Suga smirks down at his brother from his perched position above the separate small courtyard at the side of the palace. Currently, Yoongi is bound and blindfolded, standing in the centre of six pillars of fire which light the area as it grows darker. He can tell his brother is anxious, and the longer he stews in his own inner turmoil, the larger Suga’s smirk gets.

“I know you’re there, brother,” Yoongi sneers, scowl present on his lips. “No point in boasting your victory to me now.”

“On the contrary,” Suga replies, slowly making his way down onto the main level to face his brother. “I’ve finally got you right where I want you.”

“I wouldn’t be so cocky, if I were you,” now it’s Yoongi’s turn to smirk.

“Says the one who’s bound and blindfolded surrounded by fire,” Suga huffs in disbelief. “It’s a shame, really, that it’s come to this. I never wanted to get that poor girl involved.”

“Fuck you,” Yoongi spits. “You took her away from me just like you’ve taken everything else.”

“I never did anything to her, brother, yet you were so quick to push her away from you,” Suga tuts. “A shame, really. Such loyalty is hard to come by nowadays.”

“What did you do to her?” Yoongi frowns, turning his head in the direction he believes his brother to be standing in.

“Me?” Suga laughs. “I didn’t do anything, but you? You, on the other hand, broke her heart.”

“She never loved me,” Yoongi is quick to respond.

“Are you so sure about that?” Suga chuckles, moving over to rip the blindfold off of his brother in order to see his full reactions now.

“You poisoned her against me,” Yoongi’s voice drips with malice, eyes narrow as he stares his brother down.

“I did no such thing,” Suga responds, grin pulling at his lips as he stalks around his brother like a predator. “You’re the one who accused her of betraying you. What were the words you used again? Oh, yes, ‘traitorous whore.’ I believe those were the exact words you used. I can feel the love.”

“I did love her,” he glares at Suga, jaw clenched in anger.

“I’m sure you did,” Suga replies, sceptically. “At least she’ll be happy with me now.”

“You bastard,” Yoongi fumes.

“Though, I don’t understand why you never taught her how to use a sword,” Suga prods, knowing the topic of you upsets his brother greatly. “She’s very skilled. A natural if I do say so myself.”

“You didn’t-”

“Oh, but I did,” Suga grins maniacally. “Tell me, were you so afraid of her leaving you? Of her fighting against you once she found out the truth about you that you didn’t want to give her a means to protect herself? Were you so keen on keeping her locked away with no means of fighting you to escape? And you call me the sadistic one.”

“You know nothing,” Yoongi’s scowl deepens, “I only did what I thought was best for her.”

“And look where that’s gotten you,” Suga quirks a brow, smirk ever present on his features.

“I swear to god if you hurt her in any way-“

“You’ll what? Kill me?” Suga chuckles. “How can I hurt her any more than you already have?”

Yoongi can only scowl in response as Suga moves to retie the blindfold over his eyes. Once the piece of fabric is secure, Suga moves off to meet you in front of the throne room. Before he leaves, he turns to look at his brother one last time from over his shoulder, noticing the guards have already grabbed Yoongi in preparation to lead him to his death.

“One final thing brother,” Suga says, eyes twinkling with mischief. “I win.”

Yoongi begins thrashing in the guard’s holds, spewing insults at his brother even after he can no longer hear Suga. He swears his brother will pay for everything that’s happened, and he doesn’t care if he has to beg, but he’ll get you back one way of another.

Meanwhile, you’ve been standing nervously in your spot just outside the throne room on the stairs for the past thirty minutes. All of the lanterns and fires have been lit and the executioner is already in his spot with the box for Yoongi’s head set up in preparation of the events to come. You can feel your heart racing in your chest, and when you hear a chuckle come from behind you, you cannot help but jump sightly.

“Nervous?” Suga asks, coming to stand beside you in his official spot for the evening.

“I still don’t know how to feel about this,” you reply honestly.

“That’s fair,” he nods. “You dedicated your life to this traitor only for him to hurt you like this.”

“His hate runs deeper for you than anything I’ve ever known,” you say.

“He is blinded by hate,” Suga agrees, “and a danger to you, me, and our kingdom.”

“Let’s just get this over with,” your voice shakes as you say these words, blood rushing through your ears.

In the next moment, Suga motions with his hand, and you can see Yoongi being lead out by two guards to the execution area that’s been set up. You notice he’s blindfolded and your heart pangs in your chest watching him struggle as they force him down on the ground.

Nothing is said as Suga nods to the executioner. The executioner nods back and raises his blade, preparing to strike. You find you can hardly watch, the pain in your chest becoming unbearable as you see the blade come down on the man you once loved.

Except, instead of cutting off his head, the executioner frees Yoongi from his bonds, moving to attack the two guards behind him in the next second. You watch in shock as Yoongi begins laughing, removing his blindfold as the two guards drop dead behind him.

A gasp escapes your lips as Yoongi pulls a gun out of the box where his decapitated head was supposed to go, his shoulders shaking as he continues to laugh, a maniacal grin pulling on his features.

“Do you know how long I’ve waited for this day to come?” He calls, taking a step forward as he aims the gun right at Suga who is standing right beside you. “Long live the king.”

Your body moves before your brain can register what you’re doing as the gunshot sounds. You feel the impact before the pain, falling to the ground as the breath is stolen from your lungs.

“No!” You hear someone scream, as well as footsteps running towards you.

You can feel someone applying pressure to your wound, but your vision is too blurry at this point to make anything out. Tears line your eyes and fall freely down your face as you realize what this means. You’re dying, and you don’t know if you’ll survive.

“You fucking idiot,” Suga hisses as Yoongi pushes him out of the way.

“No, no, no, no,” Yoongi chokes on a sob, “that wasn’t meant for you. That bullet wasn’t meant for you.”

“Way to go, brother, you’ve taken hurting the things you love to a whole new level,” Suga spits, pushing Yoongi out of the way to apply pressure onto your wound once more. “Great aim.”

“There was only one bullet, and it was meant for you,” Yoongi fumes, tears in his eyes as he glares at his brother.

“I figured as much,” Suga rolls his eyes. “Now you’ve gone and killed her instead.”

“No, she can’t die,” Yoongi shakes his head, eyes narrowed at his brother.

“At least one thing we can agree on,” Suga sighs. “Stay here and apply pressure while I get the doctor.”

“No, I’ll get the doctor,” Yoongi frowns.

“You’ve done enough,” Suga hisses. “For once, put someone else’s needs in front of your own.”

“I can’t live without her,” he practically pleads, and Suga is almost taken aback at how much his brother actually cares about you.

They stare at each other for a moment until you coughing pulls them back into reality. The last thing you remember is Yoongi’s tearful face hovering over your own as he applies pressure to your wound, while Suga runs off to grab the doctor. 

Tears escape your eyes, as you attempt to find the strength to stay awake, and the last thing you see is Yoongi telling you he loves you before your world goes black.

[loove-persevering]

One Day (Spencer Reid x reader!)

Description: A Spencer Reid request :) How about reader is an agent with the bau and is best friends with Reid but when he comes up to the team with the case about Maeve reader gets super upset and doesn’t wanna help because she hurt that Reid kept it from her and when Garcia comes to ask her what’s wrong you confess that you’ve loved Reid since you got on the team.

Spencer Reid x Fem!reader!

Warnings: Death, Violence, Guns. If you’ve watched the episode you know what to expect! 

  Spencer Reid had this approachability aspect about him, he rarely turned anyone down for a conversation and was always up for spitting out the most odd facts. He had is moments of what seemed like doubt in his mind, as if he wasn’t good enough but it took someone to remind him how special he really was to bring back the normal Spencer. 

 As you sat in the bullpin that morning talking with Morgan your legs resting against his desk and you sipped on some coffee awaiting news of a new case you saw Spencer enter. ‘’Hey Spenc!’’ You call out to him like you every morning, but he didn’t stop he walked straight into Hotch’s office standing in the doorway for a short moment and you could see through the blinds Hotch address him. You glance over to Morgan who was looked just as concerned as you felt, ‘’Did he say anything to you?’’ You ask but Morgan shakes his head glancing back to the doorway of Hotch’s office. Spencer walks in a little further and the door shuts completely allowing them only more privacy. 

‘‘Must be serious,’‘ Morgan points out to you. 

The past couple of months you could tell were hard on Spencer, he finally reached out to the geneticist about his headaches, but he also just seemed more on edge. You two lived in the same building and would typically carpool to work together in the mornings but within the past couple of months that changed. You would go to Spencers’ door in the morning just before heading to work but there was no answer, when heading out to your own car his was already gone. By the time you arrived to the office Spencer would still show up after you, you had no idea what or where he was going. 

 ‘’Must be,’’ You reply back taking another sip of your coffee. 

An hour later Hotch called you all together, you sat at Morgans desk still surrounded by the rest of the team. Spencer stood in the back a nervous look spread across his face, you exchange glances with the rest of the team and notice they all seemed on edge as to what this was about as well. When Hotch finally begin to explain what was happening it all made sense, and the realization hit you like a ton of bricks. The man you were blindly in love with was himself blindly in love with someone else. 

‘‘Reid is just as much involved in the victimology as Maeve, we consider him apart of the case as well.’‘ Hotch points out, he gestures to Spencer who steps forward slightly. 

 His head was slightly bowed forward, his shoulders curved forward as if he was drained, ‘’He thinks he’ll get away with this, and he might.’’ He finally says. He takes a breath for a moment, his head seemed a mess; This was not the same Spencer who seemed to always have words this was a broken man in front of you. ‘’I have a wealth of knowledge I should be applying to this case. Behavioral patters of violent stalkers, tactical recovery strategies, victim survival odds. But right now I can’t focus on anything,’’ He painfully admits. ‘’Right now I can’t focus on anything for more than four seconds at a time, which makes me the dumbest person in the room.’’ 

 You watch him as he stood so broken in front of you, so fragile and unsure of what was to come. And for just a second you hated yourself, because you felt a wave of anger, jealousy and more come over you while he was speaking. Spencer was your best friend he knew all the small details of your life and up until and hour ago you could say the same. 

‘‘So please help me.’‘ You glance up at him at those words, the pleading cry not only evident in his word choice but in his voice ‘‘Hel-Help me find her.’‘ He stutters. 

 Along with the rest of the team you stay silent all in shock by what was just admitted, this team was a family and you could only imagine what the rest were feeling at this sudden what seemed like a secret that had just come to light. ‘’We don’t know if we have a case.’’ Hotch mentions. ‘’So we’ll be working on personal time,’’ You all nod your head simultaneously understanding what he was saying. ‘’Does anybody want to leave?’’ Hotch ask, you felt a pair of eyes on you at that moment and you glance up meeting Penelope’s gaze.  You quickly look back to Spencer not saying a word. ‘’Good, lets get to work.’’ He says. 

After going over some of the more basic information with the rest of the team you all head your separate ways to investigate more thoroughly, JJ and Morgan headed to Maeve’s apartment. Drake and Rossi headed to her work and Reid and Hotch to interview her parents, you went with Garcia to do some more background information on Maeve’s past records to get as much information as you could. You felt your phone buzz from your pocket pulling it out reading over the text from Hotch. 

Maeve had a Fiance, Bobby. See what you can find.

You read over the text feeling a mix of anger toward the new information, did Spencer know this? ‘’See if we can find anyone under the name Bobby, but expand it to Robert, Bobby is most likely just what people call him.’’ You tell Garcia and you immediately hear her fingers tapping against the keyboard.

‘‘I can’t believe this,’‘ She tells you, ‘‘Poor Reid.’‘ She mentions. 

‘‘Yeah,’‘ You sigh, ‘‘Poor Reid.”

 Her typing slows down and you see her glance at you from the side, ‘’You know I may not be a profiler but I can tell something’s off with you.’’ She mentions taking her hands away from the keyboard. ‘’What’s wrong angel?’’ She asks you. 

 You sigh realizing you were caught, knowing how pushy Garcia could be when she needed to be it was going to come out eventually. ‘’Okay, you know I only joined the team like a year and a half ago..’’ You start off. ‘’Of course I love everyone on this team and consider you all family, but Spencer is different.’’ You mention to her noticing her eyebrows shoot up, ‘’Spencer and me we just hit it off immediately, I feel calm when he’s around, I feel as if I can be myself around him and he never judges me. We live next to each other, we carpool, Spencer is like a brother to me just like Morgan is and how you and JJ are like my sisters.’’ You mention and her face looks a little more confused at this point, ‘’But Spenc..He’s just... He’s not like a brother because-’’ You start to say but the realization hits Garcias face and she finishes for you. 

‘‘Because you’re in love with him..’‘ She says. Your lips tighten into a thin smile. 

‘‘Bingo,’‘ You tell her. ‘‘He doesn’t know so I have no right to be anything about this whole situation. But he didn’t tell me?’‘ You say your voice laced with hurt. If anything Spencer not telling you hurt the most. 

‘‘Do you think he’s ever picked up on the fact that you- you know love him?’‘ She asks. 

‘‘I don’t think so.. I don’t exactly make it obvious.’‘ You point out. ‘‘Even if I did Spenc isn’t the best at picking up on things like that,’‘ You say letting out a nervous laugh. ‘‘Is it obvious?’‘ You ask her. 

‘‘No, I would’ve never guess if I hadn’t seen your face today when he was talking.’‘ She tells you and you felt an instant relief, the last thing you needed or wanted was the rest of the team knowing that you were indubitably in love with Spencer. ‘’I’m sorry,’’ She says simply. 

You sigh, ‘’If Maeve is what makes him happy-’’ You pause, ‘’Then I’m gonna do everything I possibly can to help find her.’’ You tell her. ‘’I can’t let my emotions get in the way.’’ You say more to yourself rather than Garcia. 

‘‘Y/N-’‘ She begins to say but is cut off by Hotch entering the room. 

‘‘Anything on Bobby?’‘ He asks glancing between the two of you. ‘‘Everything alright?’‘ He asks sounding skeptical. 

‘‘Fine sir,’‘ You say back to him. Garcia quickly gets back to typing pulling up any Roberts in contact with Maeve. 

‘‘I have a hit on a Robert Putnam, I’m sending his address to everyone now,’‘ Garcia says. 

‘‘Come on Y/N, we could use you there.’‘ Hotch says. Garcia gives you a sympathetic smile as you stand up from the chair and following Hotch. 

A short ride later you had arrived at Bobby Putnams house, a short dark haired woman answered the door her face showed a look of confusion but not shock. ‘’Who?’’ She asks simply. 

‘‘We’re looking for Robert Putnam.’‘ Rossi says lowering his ID. ‘’Do you know where he is?’’ 

‘‘He’s in the back,’‘ She says widening the door slightly. Morgan enters in first followed by the rest of you and you glance around the apartment as soon as you entered. 

‘‘And who are you?’‘ You hear Hotch ask. 

‘‘I’m Diane, his girlfriend.’‘ She says. 

You heard the sound of footsteps come from another area of the apartment and you glance up seeing Robert Putnam finally make his appearance, ‘’Hey sweetheart, who is it?’’ He ask. 

‘‘Robert Putnam we’d like to-’‘ Spencer begins to say but stops mid sentence when he finally gets to look at the man. You look back to Robert noticing that he also had a look of familiarity on his face as he saw Spencer. 

Hotch turns to Spencer, ‘’Out.’’ He says simply. ‘’Out,’’ He says now moving Spencer as he stood still looking straight at Robert. You glance at Morgan and you hear Spencers voice just as the door slams shut. 

‘‘What’s going on?’‘ You hear the girl Diane ask. 

‘‘We just want to ask a few questions,’‘ You say to her but look at Robert. 

‘‘About?’‘ Robert ask. 

‘‘Maeve Donovan.’‘ You tell him, you watch Diana turn to him but you were unable to see her face. 

Hotch enters in the room again after only a few moments outside, he didn’t seem to happy. ‘’Agent Rossi and I would just like to ask a few questions,’’ You hear Hotch say as he comes to your side. You realize now that it was him subtly telling you to leave the room. You didn’t need to be told twice so you head out into the hallway noticing Spencer. 

‘‘Hey,’‘ You say to him your voice low and careful unsure of what exactly to say to him. ‘’What was that in there?’’ You ask him. 

‘‘I was suppose to meet Maeve at a restaurant a few weeks ago, when I got there I caught him looking at me and I thought he was her stalker.’‘ He tells you. 

‘‘Spenc..’‘ You sigh. ‘‘You should’ve told us, if he is the unsub-’‘ You begin to point out but he cuts you off.

‘‘I know I’m a material witness,’‘ He says finishing your sentence. 

‘‘I’m sorry Spenc I didn’t mean to-’‘ You begin but he cuts you off again. 

‘‘It’s fine,’‘ He says but his voice sounds anything but fine. ‘’I need some air,’‘ He says shaking his head, he walks past you quickly brushing your shoulder and you stand there unsure of what to say, you watch him walk down the rest of the hallway and then into the stairwell. 

You shove your hand in your jacket pockets rolling your head back, Morgan walks out the door noticing your behavior. ‘’You alright?’’ He asks. 

‘‘You ever feel like no matter what you say you’re only making things worse?’‘ You ask him. 

He smiles at you graciously, ‘’You’re helping, just give him some time.’’ He tells you. ‘’I’m gonna go check on him,’’ He says taking his hand and giving your arm a comforting squeeze. 

_____________

Me for Her

 That is what Reid said, and now he was delivering his promise. You stood outside watching the door close and he walk in unarmed with no vest, all you could do was wait but for what you were unsure. 

‘‘We can’t go in?’’ You ask Hotch feeling your body drenched with adrenaline at the thought of Spencer inside. ‘‘What if he needs us?’‘ You ask. 

‘‘If we go in she could kill them both, we can’t risk it unless we hear something.’‘ Hotch tells you. 

‘‘Like what a bullet going into Spencers chest?’‘ You say carelessly earning a look from not only Hotch but the rest of the team as well, ‘‘I’m sorry.’‘ You say shaking your head. 

So you waited and waited, it felt like hours sitting at the door waiting for something to happen. 

And then it did. 

A shot, before you knew it you were rushing in the door your weapon raised. Spencer was on the floor muttering, ‘’Stay back! Stay back, Stay back!’’ He kept repeating pushing himself up from the floor. You move to the far right side of him your weapon raised. Diane had a gun held to Maeves head. 

‘‘Diane there is still a way out of this,’‘ Spencer tells her. ‘’I offered you a deal and you can still take it, me for her. Let me take her place.’’ He says, you never take your hand off the trigger just hovering it, you stare straight at Diane knowing this was not going to end well. 

‘‘You would do that? You would kill yourself for her?’‘ Diane asks tears running down her face.

‘‘Yes,’‘ Spencer answers without a second of hesitation. 

Diane doesn’t say anything but you hear Maeve speak just above a whisper, ‘’Thomas Merton,’’ She says, 

‘‘Who’s Thomas Merton?’‘ Diane asked her voice uneven and broken. 

‘‘He knows,’‘ Maeve says speaking up. ‘‘He knows,’‘ She says her entire demeanor calming down as Diane keeps questioning who Thomas Merton is. ‘‘He’s the one thing you can never take from us. ‘‘ She says staring straight at Spencer. 

Diane thinks for just a split second before taking the gun right up to her temple, ‘’No.’’ She says. 

Just as the gunshot goes off you hear Spencer cry out, ‘’Wait!’’ He yells. But it was too late, the gun goes off and its defining. You stare at the scene before you unsure of any thoughts in your head as you lower your weapon. You felt the tears streaming down your face as you glance over Spencer falling to his knees. You close your eyes tightly trying to hold them back, but it didn’t help. The only sound in the room besides the ringing in your ear was the soft sobs coming from Spencer. 

____________

A week later you were leaving for a new case, you had just gotten the call about the conference. You heard two familiar voices outside and you shake your head knowing the piles upon piles of things Garcia had already left was only being added to. You step out of your apartment both of them glancing over you a look of sorrow on their face. ‘’He’s not gonna answer,’’ You tell them. 

Garcia looks at you her own eyes looking tearful, ‘’Nothing?’’ She asks only at a whisper. 

‘‘How many of those baskets are yours?’‘ You ask her skeptically, ‘’Are they all yours?’’ You ask. 

‘‘Maybe,’‘ She says sheepishly.

‘‘Whats in that one?’‘ JJ ask. You turn around while Garcia informs JJ on the importance of nuts and seeds on metabolism and lock your door. When you finally make your way over to them JJ speaks up, ‘’Spenc we just wanna know if your alright in there,’’ She says but gets no reply. 

‘‘Knock twice if your conscious,’‘ Garcia calls out earning two knocks. ‘‘Is he ever gonna be okay?’‘ She asks to no one in particular.

‘‘One day,’‘ You say loud enough for him to hear. ‘’Come on we should get to work,’’ JJ says walking toward the steps, you wait a few seconds letting them ahead before you reach into your bag and grabbing out a copy of A Long Way Down by Nick Hornby. 

‘‘One day, Spenc.’‘ You say just loud enough for him to hear. ‘‘Doesn’t have to be today.’‘ You say. 

You begin walking toward the stairs and you see Penelope waiting for you at the bottom of them a smile on her face directed toward you. You take yourself down the stairs step by step finally making it to her, ‘’Come on,’’ You say offering her a smile.

_____________

Part 2?

I’m willing to write a part two to this maybe a time skip ahead? Tell me what you think! If you want to see a part two or want me to tag you in it please comment or message me!

Thanks for reading as always it means the world!<3

I didn't proof read sorry!

[bloededhoine]

I’ve been seeing your other Eskel headcanons and I’m??? In love?? You characterize him very accurately. So ★ ☾ ☼☠️ please and thanks

aaahhhh that is seriously the best compliment! sorry this took a while :/

★ - sad headcanon

☾ - sleep headcanon

☼ - appearance headcanon

☠ - angry/violent headcanon

list

sad headcanon

eskel is definitely not the most emotionally mature man on the continent, but he is a lot better than his brothers

when he's sad or in grief, he usually tries to process it

key word being tries, he doesn't always succeed.

on the outside, this looks like him withdrawing from the world and shutting down. he's really just existing in his own mind to try and unpack the emotions he never really let himself feel when he was younger

unfortunately, this makes him a pretty bad resource for his brothers, especially if it's something that affected all three of them

it's not that he doesn't want to help them, he does, he just can't until he's sorted out his own grief first

for all his own emotional capacity, he's not very good at dealing with the emotions of others

he won't make a joke to try and break the tension like lambert, but he struggles to talk it out as well

his main strategy is just being there and making sure that whoever is in pain knows they have him to count on

one of deidre's wolves had a baby that was killed by a harpy, and she was absolutely destroyed for days. eskel was deeply uncomfortable, he didn't really know what to do with a crying teenager, much less if that teenager is someone as unattached as deidre.

so, he carved a little wolf paw on a rock and buried the body under it. it was clear that deidre and geralt and lambert and vesemir all thought the funeral was a bit juvenile, or rather wanted eskel to think they thought the funeral was juvenile.

there definitely wasn't enough smoke for all of their eyes to be watering.

however, eskel does kind of think of grief as having a clock

if he is still sad for more than a week, he'll just push the emotions away because life must go on.

of course, if he knew anyone else had that idea he'd want to sit them down and get them to talk it through, even if in his own awkward way.

sleep headcanon

the path requires eskel to wake up alert and ready, which he can do, he just doesn't want to

but when he's at kaer morhen, he easily sleeps more than any of his brothers

lambert wakes up the latest, but that's because he has the sleep schedule of a two month old baby

eskel cannot sleep without a set schedule

asleep at 11 and awake at 6 or he will not get any rest at all

geralt and lambert thinks it's weird

vesemir thinks it's an example for the other two hooligans to follow

he doesn't dream much

has one recurring dream where he can fly, but he can't go more than a metre off the ground and needs to stay horizontal

snores

loudly

lambert hates it. he's tried to smother eskel with his pillow a few times

like basically all witchers, eskel sleeps Hot

but, he always keeps a fire on in his room at kaer morhen

he might have a super high metabolism, but lil bleater doesn't and she shouldn't need to shiver damniit!

and don't dare tell him to just let the goat sleep outside

he will sweat and be so uncomfortable but thinking about lil bleater being lonely... way worse

so,,, he sometimes sleeps nakey

once lambert came in eskel's room without knocking and was "scarred for fucking life you disgusting pervert! what the fuck is wrong with just putting on some pants?!! it's not like you even have anything to show off! what the fuck is wrong with this fucking castle?!"

appearance headcanon

as a surprise to literally no one, eskel is very conscious of his appearance

he hates drawing attention to himself and usually wears the plainest clothes possible

he even tries not to show emotion in public

it gets to the point where he hates going out with his brothers, cause if anyone's going to cause a drunken scene... it's definitely lambert

even before he had his scar, he tried to avoid being the centre of attention. it's just not his style.

the thing about eskel's scar is not that he feels it "ruined" his looks, but that it made him noticeable.

eskel is, however, quite proud of his hair

he took care of a foglet problem near maribor, but the woman who hired him didn't have the money to pay. she did, however, give him a special blend of rosemary, bear fat, and tea tree that makes his hair "luscious as a lion's mane!", according to dandelion.

lambert can mock, but eskel's hair is very soft and healthy for a witcher

of his brothers, he is definitely the most fashion-forward

of course, the bar is literally a line of tape on the floor

but still

geralt owns like three items of clothing that he refuses to replace and lambert just buys whatever's cheapest or will piss vesemir off the most

eskel knows the colour scheme that works for him (dark reds) and works it pretty well

he HATES dressing nice

possibly even more than geralt, who just thinks parties are boring and fancy doublets are uncomfortable

whenever eskel goes anywhere fancy, he feels that he sticks out like a sore thumb

which isn't inaccurate

the idea of countless people looking at him and noticing him is literal torture

angry/violent headcanon

eskel is fairly level headed, and even when he's angry he is very very hesitant to act on it

initially, he just didn't want to stir up any shit with his brothers. if he got mad at geralt and smacked him in the head, vesemir would beat both their asses.

it kind of turned into a fear of unconsciously hurting someone after ciri and deidre came to kaer morhen

especially with deidre, who was so used to receiving violence as a reaction to nearly everything she did

one time she accidentally spilled some hot tea on eskel's arm, as soon as he raised his voice to tell her to get a towel she immediately prepared for an attack

he felt awful

after that, he never yelled around deidre again. not when he got his scar, not when her wolves ate his favourite food, not even when he was just mad at geralt and lambert

if eskel needed to scream at his brothers, deidre shouldn't need to hear it

surprisingly, the two idiots were actually really good at honouring that rule

it also made eskel a lot better prepared when ciri came

he knows he's intimidating, and understands how that could come across to a 12 year old who just saw her family murdered

but...

if there is a time and place for violence, eskel will not hold back

that time and place is almost always when someone threatens his family

he gets a bit scared that he will lose himself in his rage and end up accidentally causing more problems than he solved

however, this pales in comparison to the fear of one of his loved ones being hurt because he couldn't protect them

ok i'm making myself sad

[fanfoolishness]

on the subject of rocks (SUF)

Steven and Jasper have a long-overdue conversation.  Set two years after SUF, canon-compliant. A little angst, a lot of hope. ~2500 words.

***

Steven is eighteen years old when he decides he wants to try to speak with her again.  

If she wants to, that is.

He thinks he’s ready.  He thinks the conversation might dim the feeling of her fragments cutting into his palm, the weight of his crime crushing his heart, his gut, his gem.  Therapy has helped a great deal. But there are still nights he wakes up panting, remembering what it felt like to let go, to hurt, to shatter, and he wonders.  

If Jasper has the same terrible memories, the same haunting, then maybe they should talk about it.

He talks with Dr. Boverman for hours.  He wants to be sure this is right.  Not just for him, but he wants to make sure this won’t damage her further than he already has.  They go round and round.  They’ve spoken of so many things, old wounds that pierced and bled and fractured, but most of those wounds were done to him.

The blood on his hands is less than he’d once feared it was, but it still doesn’t scrub clean.

“It will always be with you,” Dr. Boverman’s calm voice says.  “You shattered Jasper.  You didn’t intend to, but it’s what happened.”

“I know,” says Steven, and the thought no longer incapacitates him with shame.  It was terrible, violent, the worst possible action committed at nearly his lowest point.  But he accepts it, now, accepts that this will stay with him always.  That it should.

And yet -- 

He and Dr. Boverman strategize.  Roleplay.  Hours of scenarios, how to accept if she never wants to talk to him again, what to do if Jasper says she isn’t ready, what to do if she lashes out, what to do if she fights him, what to do if she bends her hands into the Diamond salute.  Each scenario frightens him at first, sends his heart racing.  The first time they talked about it he glowed pink again for the first time in months.  But the terror fades a little every time they speak, and several weeks later, he thinks he might be ready.

***

Little Homeworld is always different and always the same.  It’s a comforting flow of change, new Gems appearing each time he visits, old teachers moving on.  His family is still there, of course, and he has plans to catch up with them tomorrow.  But today -- today he wants to know if this is the right time.

If there will ever be a right time.  And if there isn’t, he thinks he can make his peace with that.

He finds Jasper sitting on a fallen log at the edge of the forest, alone as he’d expected she would be.  A sketchbook sits in front of her, colored pencils at her side.  His footsteps crunch on autumn leaves.

“Jasper?” he asks hesitantly, ten feet away.  

She turns to look at him, her form unchanged from the last time he saw her, the stripe through her eye disrupted, her horn broken.  So she hadn’t gone to Yellow, then.  A thread of fear mixed with guilt begins unspooling within him.  Maybe he wasn’t ready after all.

Jasper snorts, a gruff smile spreading over her face.  “I wondered if you’d stop by, one of these days.  I heard some of the others say you were coming into town.”

“Hi,” says Steven hesitantly.  He takes a deep breath, remembering his strategies.  “I -- I’d like to ask you something, Jasper.”

“Shoot,” she says in disinterest, picking up a pencil.  She makes scratchy marks against the sketchbook paper, scribbles he can’t quite make out.

He edges closer.  “I was wondering… I’ve done a lot of thinking.”

“Sounds like you.”

Despite himself, he chuckles slightly.  “All right, fair.”  

“Thinking about what?” she asks.

“About you,” says Steven honestly.  “And me.  What I did to you.  What we did to each other.”  He lets out a long, tremulous sigh, returning mentally to his gemstone, taking deep breaths with his diamond as his anchor.  “And I wanted to see if you wanted to talk about it.  It’s okay if you don’t, or if you want me to leave you alone.”  Breath.  Another.  “I’m so sorry, Jasper.”

She glances up at him, giving him an odd look, then gestures beside her with a powerful shoulder.  “Go on.  Sit down, already.”

No ‘my Diamond.’  He’s more relieved than he’d expected to be.  He sets down his bag and sits down on the ground, resting against the log instead of sitting on top of it with her.  He sinks into the soft loam, leans against the fallen trunk.  It’s more comfortable than it looks.  A few feet between them seem like miles, or inches, he isn’t sure.

Jasper regards him coolly, tilting her head slightly to one side.  “Why’d you really come here?”

“To talk to you,” says Steven, his hands folded and calm in his lap, his breathing slowing.  “You told me once that I was the one who needed help.  I’ve been getting it.”

“Told you,” she says, but there’s no gloating in her voice.  She purses her lips, face tensed in concentration.  At last she says, “So have I.”

He blinks, hands coming apart, fingers falling open.  He raises his head and gazes up at her, wondering if he’s heard her right.  “You have?”

“You told me to do something better with my life,” says Jasper, picking up her sketchbook.  At this angle he can see what she’s drawn.  It’s a rock -- what was it with her and rocks -- but a tenderly realized rock, craggy edges shaded in carefully, mosses and lichens rendered in textured shades of green and brown.  

“Jasper, that’s -- that’s really beautiful,” says Steven.  He’s been working on his art, too, but he’s no good at the type of delicate detail work laced into her sketch.  “Who taught you?”

“Ruby,” she says.  She sets the pencil down beside her, hands tensing on the sketchbook.  “I don’t go to Lapis’ classes.”

“Right.”  Part of him is saddened to hear it.  Another part of him is grateful for Lapis’ sake. He wonders which of them he’s most like.  “It seems like you’ve really taken to Little Homeschool.  I’m glad for you.”

A small scoff of a laugh, but it softens at the end into something more like a real smile.  Jasper shakes her hair, its white strands catching in the dappled sunlight beneath the trees.  She looks… calm, like this, and it’s not a state he ever remembers seeing her in before.

“What about you?” she asks suddenly.

“I’m doing well,” he replies, still shocked that they’re talking at all.  It’s going far better than most of the scenarios he’d practiced with Dr. Boverman.   “I visit with my family every couple of weeks.  I’ve been spending a lot of time in cities lately.  All the noise and hustle and bustle… it’s different, sometimes it’s overwhelming, but I like the energy.  It’s… good.  It’s really good.  Connie and I meet up every week.  And I talk to my therapist.”

“What’s that?”

“A therapist?  Um… it’s like a healer for human minds.  But it’s not instant, like with Diamond powers.  It takes time.  A long time.”  He gives her a small smile.  “Sometimes it’s two steps forward, one step back, but overall, I’m feeling a lot better than… before.”

Jasper considers his words.  She leans down, and he realizes a shiny blue beetle is crawling over the tip of her boot.  He tenses, waiting.

Jasper watches the beetle go, making no further move toward it.  It ambles away peacefully.

“You are not my Diamond,” she says into the silence.

“No,” he agrees, and something inside of him unclenches.  “I -- I’m a Diamond.  But mostly I’m just Steven.”

“I hated you for so long.”

He fights an urge to be sarcastic, to bite back at her.  This doesn’t sound… angry.  He keeps quiet, and lets her speak.

Her hand clenches into a fist, heavy against her thigh.  “I thought that if you could stop being weak, if I could make you stronger, I would have my Diamond again.  My purpose.  Someone to protect, someone to serve.”  

She stares into the woods, and he remembers his hands and legs awash in pink, the glow as he tore through the trees beneath a starry sky.  He remembers jagged laughter, his gem humming, a power crueler than he’d ever felt before --  

“I know.”

“Don’t ‘I know’ me when I’m talking to you,” she snaps.  “I’m trying to -- arrgh.  I thought this would be easier.”

“You thought what would be easier --” he starts to ask.

“You know.  Talking.  Ugh.  It’s nothing like a good fight.  The target keeps changing.”  She crosses her arms, still staring off into the trees.  The sun shifts overhead, casting her face in shadow.

“That’s called a conversation,” he says gently.  “Battles are battles, but a hard conversation… it can hurt.”

“Now you tell me,” says Jasper, and it takes him a solid minute before he realizes it’s a joke.  He laughs, but it’s too late, and Jasper shakes her head.  “Look.  Steven.  I -- I’m sorry.”  The words are hasty and fumbled and fast, but he catches them, barely.

“You’re sorry?” Steven yelps.  “But I’m the one who shattered you.”  It still comes out like a dirty word, almost two years later.  He wonders if he’ll ever be able to fully say it, if he’ll ever be able to act like it hasn’t scarred him.  He hopes not.  “I’m the one who should be apologizing to you.”

“You have.  Just now, and before,” she says, shrugging.  “But I only said I’d teach you to get you to fight me.  And you did.  And I lost.”

“Because I lost myself, I lost who I was, you didn’t make me --”

“But you were off-color,” growls Jasper.  “You were -- what do you humans call it again --?”

“Sick,” he says softly.  Such a small word.  It barely begins to cover everything that went wrong two years ago, but he knows CPTSD won’t mean a thing to her, and that’s okay, that’s not what he’s here for.

“Sick,” she repeats.  “And I --”  She digs her hands into the tree bark, small flakes of it crumbling beneath her shaking hands.  “I made you worse.  So that I could get something I wanted.  I failed to protect my Diamond from myself.”

“Jasper --” he gasps.  “You’ve been blaming yourself? For me shattering you?”

“Someone’s got to do it,” she huffs.

He rubs the back of his neck with his hand, tries to take another deep breath, reminds himself to return to the thought of his gem as a centering point.  He can do this.  He can do this.  It’s just, this isn’t how he thought it would go at all.  

He closes his eyes.  Remembers the way she screamed at him, punches in the gut, the face, the sides.  Remembers the way she goaded, the way she pressed, how proud she looked of how frightening he’d become.  He doesn’t know what to say.  “I -- I was sick,” he manages finally.  “I -- you’re right.”

“Of course I am.”

He shakes his head at that.  “But I’m still the one who did it.  I still have to take responsibility for hurting you,” he demands.

Jasper gives him an appraising look.  “Hmph,” she says, and he doesn’t know if it’s a hmph of agreement or a hmph of disdain.  It’s hard to tell with Jasper.  She holds the silence an uncomfortably long time before she says, “Maybe.”

“This isn’t how -- I wanted you to be mad at me,” Steven admits.  “I wanted you to be pissed off! To tell me to get away from you!”

“I can still do that,” says Jasper, apparently turning the thought around in her mind.  She chuckles, very slightly.  “But if that’s an order, I’m ignoring it.”

He laughs.  “You’re full of surprises, Jasper.”

“Am not.”

“You kind of are.”

“Don’t be so surprised then.”  She picks up her pencil, returning to her sketch.  Grass starts to grow beneath her rock, verdant blades springing up from dark soil.

“I thought you hated the local ecosystem.”

“It has its functions,” says Jasper begrudgingly.  “If I leave the grass it provides better contrast for the rocks.”  She picks up a different shade of green, adding highlights.  “It’s still puny.  But it has a purpose of its own.”

“What’s yours?” he asks, then kicks himself for getting so personal.

“Only if you tell me what yours is.”

Two years ago, the request would have paralyzed him.  Two years ago, he’d have panicked, spun out with a lie, tried his best not to think about who he was and what he was supposed to do.

He just smiles.  Breathes in the fresh green air, so different from the machine-smell of the big city.  Beneath the green there’s a hint of salt, the promise of the sea.  It smells like home.

“My purpose is to be Steven,” he says simply.  “To be myself.  To grow and change.  To love myself, regrets and all.”

“Sounds all right,” says Jasper begrudgingly.  “Sort of like mine these days.”  She turns to him, frowning.  “You got something to write on?”

“Uh, let me see.”  He rummages in his bag.  “Oh hey!  I have my sketchbook, too.”

“Well?” Jasper says, pointing to the boulder before her.  “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

He flips through his sketchbook, passing pages of silly Connie faces, a self-portrait in pink and white, Lion poses, CPH classic fanart.  He settles on a blank page and Jasper shoves a green pencil into his hand.  He feels smooth wood, the lightness of the organic drawing implement rounded and gentle in his palm.  No sharp edges, no jagged fragments, no terrible weight dragging his clenched hand into the hot water.  He blinks back tears.

The sunlight shifts, the golden hour arriving, brilliant light shafting through the leaves above and lining the forest floor in spun-gold glory.  His hands don’t quite have this kind of magic in them, but he tries his best, his drawing including sketches of the rock, the grass, the trees beyond them. He adds a gleaming line of yellow at the edges.  He’ll show it to Dr. Boverman at their next appointment.

“Not bad,” says Jasper, peering over his sketchbook.  “You added the trees.”

“It just felt more complete that way,” he says.  He glances at her drawing.  The rock is resplendent, resting on gold-touched grass, light captured in patches against the mosses and lichens.  “You can see all of this?  It’s incredible, Jasper.”

“It’s just what it looks like,” she says stubbornly.  “It’s a good challenge.”

“Like a conversation,” he says, half to himself.  

“Something like that.”  The breeze flutters past them, carrying faint birdsong, the far-off scent of the sea.

“Thanks for talking with me, Jasper.  I know you didn’t have to.”

“Of course.  I do what I want,” she replies, and her voice is gentler than he’s ever heard it.

[itsuki-minamy]

“K - THE FIRST STORY”

CHAPTER 10: THE MAN WITH THE FOX MASK (Complete)

* K - The First Story (List of Chapters) * Projects & Chapters

Translation: Naru-kun Raws: Ridia

He doesn’t remember the first thing.

However, when he was secretly called by the Slate and became "King", he knew that the color of the "King" he received was "Colorless", and he remembers that he was strangely convinced.

He was a transparent man like water. Not individual and flat. He was a person who had few emotional ups and downs, had no noticeable thoughts, was not attached to people, things, or even himself, and was just there in silence.

Why did such a person become a "King"?

He somehow he was convinced that he knew of his ability as "King".

He was able to insert his soul into someone else's body, read and swallow someone else's memory, abilities, and life and make it his own. In other words, it was just water in a large pot to make soup. That is why he was transparent, tasteless and colorless.

He had no interest or attachment to himself. So he left his body without any regret and walked around the bodies of others.

He doesn't remember it well, but at first he thinks he probably didn't have any particular purpose.

However, since he had become a "creature with such power", he continued to swallow the lives of many human beings with the vague idea that such power should be used.

"I wonder if this power can save people." He entered the body of a nurse and thought so.

"If my mind drifts, I can be a genius, right?" He entered the body of a college student, and that was the end.

"Most of the people in the world are stupid. It should be led by a powerful person." He entered the body of a politician and cross his arms.

"To have power, first of all, violence! Fear has brought people down." He entered the body of a yakuza man and breathe.

"Let's get what we want from one end. I can do that." He entered the body of a rich woman and laughed a lot.

"This is strange. This is wrong." He entered the body of a teacher and held his head.

"It's lonely. I want someone to praise me." He entered the body of a lonely child and cry.

He walks through many human bodies.

Many skills, knowledge, thought, experience and life have become his. He started to get a sharp idea and his emotions got higher and lower. Although his capacity was great, as a result of continuing to take possession of the lives of people with conflicting ideas and sensibilities, his thoughts, desires and actions became inconsistent, and his personality as a human being was disturbed.

One day he was visited by a parrot.

"Putting on a mask is a good idea. You are a person."

Said the parrot.

At that time, he was an old man who owned an antique store.

Interrupted by his personality and spirit, he took an attacking action, knocking the merchandise out of the store to the ground and rampaging, not knowing what he wanted to do.

The air outside was cold in late fall, but the windows were open. A parrot with green feathers was standing on the window railing and speaking in fluent words that could not be considered as a bird.

He should put on a mask.

"Who are you?"

The passion that had made him rampage like crazy until then subsided, and he asked calmly as he watched the strange parrot.

The parrot inclined its head in a strangely human gesture.

"I'm a passing advisor. You seem to be in trouble, so I called you. It's advice."

"What does it mean to put on a mask?"

The parrot makes a rattling noise and spreads its wings. It was very similar to how an exaggerated person extends his hands.

"Now you are unable to unify your will and your actions. This is the price of your great power. As a result of assimilating all human memory, your memory has been altered."

"Other than that, I don't regret anything in my memory."

"Still, it would be a problem if you couldn't define 'who you are'. You're just a bankrupt person. Without you, you have no purpose."

The parrot who spoke softly, did not take his eyes off his emotionless eyes.

"What do you do with a mask?"

"I entrust 'myself' to the mask. That mask will become your faceless face, and it will be a good idea to assemble the ego that is being photographed."

He silently stares at the parrot for a while, and suddenly he looks down at a point in the messy shop.

There was a fox mask that fell on the tea utensils that broke on the floor.

He reached out and lifted the fox mask, staring at the elongated, eerily cut eye hole.

The "King" fox, who is bad for others, is a source of the fox. He felt it was a good match for him.

(This is the face of "myself".)

That perception mysteriously fell on him and became the outline of his shyness.

He raised the fox mask to his face and looked at the parrot.

"I am the Seventh King, the 'Colorless King'."

"Fufu.", Laughed the parrot.

"Nice to meet you," Colorless King ". What is your dream?"

There were various thoughts and voices in him. Soft voices used to be quiet, lost to loud and violent voices and became inaudible. He heard many inner voices and shook the baton like a conductor to combine those voices into a piece of music and put it in his own thoughts.

"I will be the strongest 'King'."

After that, the parrot became kind to him.

He gave him various information and advice when he started acting to become the strongest "King".

It was fun talking to the parrot about his ambitions and acting like him.

"The meaning of my birth was probably to unite the world. I am a recipient that accepts the whole world."

"I see. It's an interesting idea."

"The King does not need seven people, and I will swallow all of his power, skill, experience, memory, and thought, and unite him."

"That's your way. I understand."

The parrot disagreed with his words, but showed understanding.

He took the sincerity of this parrot to simply listen and understand that that was his chosen path, rather than a weak empathy.

"There are four 'Kings' that we know where they are now. The first king, the 'Silver King', who is still flying in the sky in an airship. The second king, the 'Golden King', who lives in the huge Mihashira tower. In Shizume, there is the third king, the 'Red King', who lives in a bar. And the fourth king, who has a camp in Tsubakimon, the 'Blue King'."

He licked his tongue, wondering where to start.

"The "Golden King" is still a bit overloaded. It will be difficult if you don't get the power of another "King" before sneaking into the stronger "King". The powers of the "Red King" and "Blue King" are similar, but the red is unbalanced. Between these two people, the red could be broken."

"I agree. We are going to come up with a strategy for that."

"Oh, but before the red, it is better to start with the easy part."

"The easy part?"

"The only king of his kind, the 'Silver King'. I think he's no longer motivated to play the 'King'. It's better for him if he gets it right away."

The parrot was a bit quiet.

"But it's also the beginning of the Dresden Slate. Don't let your guard down."

"My power is effective in humans who have a void in their hearts. The "Silver King" has abandoned the responsibility of the "King" and has been fleeing all the time. My heart is empty. For me, he is the easiest person. to catch."

Also, the attributes of "Silver King" are not modified. In other words, basically, he will be the strongest body that will not get hurt or die. He argued that once he had that power, it would be much easier to eat another "King".

"Okay, so it's a good idea to plan in parallel the contact with the 'Silver King' and the trembling of the 'Red King'."

When the parrot decided to take over from the "Silver King", the parrot seemed eager to cooperate with him, although at first he was a bit reluctant.

By carrying out the plan, the parrot even gave him a nice body as a gift.

A harmless boy with a pretty face and a simple identity.

"As he is an unaffiliated child, you can use it however you want and it will not cause you any inconvenience. I have tampered with the information and erased the public records, so it is unlikely that you will be caught by a public institution."

The boy's body was in good shape. He sang with his body. A song of delight. It was a song of joy.

He was ready. The necessary tools, including firearms and bombs, were collected on the way through the body and stored in various hiding places. The body of the mob was useful for collecting tools, but it was inconvenient for them to live after using them, so, he kill some of them when he leave their bodies. He killed them, but no one needed to cry, since all the memories and experiences of them were stored in him.

The parrot had never denounced or denied his actions. He was just there, taking care of him and giving him advice and information if he asked. For him, the parrot was the only "friend of the outside world."

"Hey, parrot."

The night before the decision, he told the parrot.

"The 'King' creates the Clansmans, right?"

"As for the presence or absence of Clansman and the amount, it depends on the 'King', but basically it is affirmative."

"Why don't you become my clan member?"

It was a funny word. But it's not that he wasn't serious.

The parrot rolled its eyes and bowed its head.

"I can't do that. Didn't you notice?"

"No. I noticed. Are you also a 'King'? 'Green King', Nagare Hisui."

There was no reason not to notice. In the first place, it was clear that he was not the only one who felt and he contacted the awakening of the "Colorless King", which not even the Golden clan could capture, and now he had this parrot ready. He was in the body of a young boy. All the memories of the boy were inherited by him. This boy was a user of an SNS called "Jungle" operated by the "Green King", and a game in which he actually completed missions issued from him and received points, a game in which many people are crazy behind the scenes. He knew, of course, that it was one of the more well-known games, and he kidnapped the boy in the first place because he was invited to an unpopular place called a mission.

The boy who possessed this body was a transparent boy who had little connection with people, like air, like water.

He felt that this boy looked a bit like the original me that he had forgotten about.

Just as the boy, who was not interested in interacting with people, was still looking for some connection with the peculiar social network "Jungle", he could have looked for something in the parrot.

"I just said it. I sent three people thinking that it would be fine if there was one person who could see me from the outside."

"Are you dreaming of putting the world in you? Don't get halfway there."

The parrot simply replied, spreading its green wings.

"You and I are walking different paths and dreaming differently. You were very interesting and I helped you because it was perfect for the basis of my dream. It is a unit of interest."

"Oh."

"In order for you to capture all the 'Kings' and become the strongest 'King', you will eventually have to fight me. So, let's play a good game."

The parrot's eyes were directly directed at him, not reflecting his emotions.

"Then, goodbye."

There was a creak.

The green feathers that flew fluttered in the air to his feet.

"Hey."

He called involuntarily, looking at the parrot, which flew away and got smaller.

The parrot, who appeared when he was about to destroy his ego, put a face on him, listened to his ambitions and gave him an answer, he was terribly gone.

Being left alone, he felt asexually reluctant.

He felt that the lonely child in him was crying "alone".

"Hey."

He calls back to empty space. At that moment,

"What?"

There was a voice to answer.

It was a voice that came out of his mouth, there was no one.

Oh, yeah, it felt like a revelation.

He was not alone. Even if he had only one body, he was filled with the greatest abundance. There was a world in his body. He lifts the world.

He heard the voices of the many personalities within him, but before the voices confused him and broke his ego, he covered his face with the fox mask.

"I am the Seventh King, the 'Colorless King'. A human being who accepts all 'Kings', gains all power, knows everything and becomes the world itself."

It felt clear in his head.

He grabbed the pistol he had prepared and stroked the black barrel with his slender fingers.

"Let's step forward. First of all, as the first stone to destroy the 'Red King', let's kill Totsuka Tatara, an executive of the Red clan who is also a plug of the 'Red King'."

Then, he will go to see the "Silver King".

Once he has the immutable defense and the flame of destruction, he will no longer be afraid.

Making a smile under the fox mask, he also sang a song of joy.

++++++++++

"Damn!"

He attacked the "Red King" and, on the contrary, he was bitten and jumped out of the room in anger.

Immediately afterwards, Suoh's flames, which were chasing his power, exploded and the force of the explosion sent him rolling down the hall.

The room he was in until now was blown up, and when it burned, the flames consumed everything. The power was great even though it was an attack from a remote location. He clicked his tongue feeling ridiculed.

He thought the unstable "Red King" was weakening in the "Scepter 4" dungeon, but he still seemed reluctant. Nothing is more dangerous than a beast that has some physical strength left.

His forehead ached a little and he touched with his hand. The fox face he wore was gone. Looks like he was blown away. He appeared to have a small burn on his forehead. It is not something he cares about, it is just a temporary body. There is no problem if it breaks.

"Wow! Hey, are you okay?"

He could hear the footsteps and the voice of the schoolgirl running down the hall. When he raised his face, Kukuri Yukizome, a girl who was a classmate of that body, came running up and looked at his face anxiously.

"Oh, I have burns on my forehead! I'm cold! What happened?"

Kukuri immediately wet her handkerchief with water and put it on his forehead. She made a confused look.

"I don't know... When I passed by, the room suddenly exploded..."

"That room shouldn't have been strange, but... maybe a gas explosion."

He reflected, looking at Kukuri, who was afraid to look inside the charred room, saying that she had to contact the fire department and the police.

Perhaps the red clan will reach Gakuenjima before the fire department and the police. The "Red King" Mikoto Suoh must have identified this place by grabbing his tail, which has interfered with his psyche.

It was easy to leave that body and escape before the "Red King" entered, but it was also an opportunity. This island, which is isolated to some extent from the main world, is a perfect place for battles between kings. He was ready to face it.

When the "Red King" arrives, the "Blue King" will definitely start moving. It's a good idea to push red and blue to physically weaken them before eating.

And the mystery boy, Isana Yashiro. The boy, who was alive even after being thrown from the airship, suddenly began living on this school island with the face of a student. He was in a position to be hunted by both the red and the blue, but he can return if this school island turns into a battlefield.

He will have to meet Isana Yashiro again.

"Hey, Yukizome-san."

He told Kukuri, returning the slimy handkerchief to his forehead.

"Do you know what Isana is doing now?"

"Isana-kun...? Um... who...?"

Kukuri turned her head with a confused face. It seems that Isana's memory is not preserved.

"Oh, Yukizome-san, you don't seem to know Isana. Nothing, don't worry."

"Oh, where are you going? Let's report the explosion together..."

"I'm sorry."

He smiled at Kukuri. Perhaps because he wore a fox face all the time, he smiled like a fox.

"I'm busy with a lot of things to prepare from now on. And since only one room exploded, Yukizome-san, you don't have to worry too much."

It's not as bad as a disguise or two disappearing, because something was about to happen.

When the Himmelreich crashed, he kidnapped the boy's body and rushed to the crash site. He examined the body of the "Silver King", who had fallen from the airship, but after he left, his body had no pulse and he was not breathing, and he never woke up like Weismann again.

He left Weismann's body unattended, left the scene before the police and "Scepter 4" reunited, and went to a hideout in search of firearms and bombs to retrieve it.

He then kidnapped the driver of a truck carrying goods to Gakuenjima, loaded weapons and bombs, and invaded Gakuenjima. Weapons are important to him who does not have much attack ability currently, and Gakuenjima, who is very isolated as a hiding place, is unexpectedly convenient and above all, Isana, who is the person in question, was on the spot and was likely to return. After hiding the guns in the school, he kidnapped one of the boys and settled in the school.

It was a miscalculation that the "Red King" was stronger than he expected, but he was more or less within his calculations.

They were ready to start the festival.

Sitting in front of the clock tower, he was looking in the direction of Gakuenjima gate.

The sky above the door distorted and a red light exploded.

"He already came."

A huge sword emerged from the tension created in the sky.

The red Sword of Damocles.

The shape of the sword collapsed, cracked here and there, and the debris spilled into small pieces.

Well, he was impressed that he kept that spirit in that state.

"It's an early arrival, 'Red King'. Well, it's a day early, but it's the start of a fun school festival."

At the same time as his words, the door exploded. The screams of the students echoed.

From the rising smoke, Mikoto Suoh, the "Red King", appeared with a large number of clansmen behind him.

The students were stunned for a moment by the sudden explosion and the invasion of men with terrifying apparitions carrying weapons like metal bats and iron pipes, and then they all escaped at once, starting with someone yelling.

Looking at the fleeing students, Suoh made a troublesome face and developed a flame in his left hand.

He shook his arm with the flame lightly. The flame flew straight towards the clock tower and landed.

"Whoops."

Sitting under the clock tower, he hurriedly jumped out of the place. When he turned around as he evacuated inside where sparks and fine tiles fell from above, he saw the clock tower bend cleanly from the middle, kick up dust, and collapse.

(Just bullying the loud boy, I don't think it's an attack aimed at him, but... he's a strangely level-headed bastard.)

He was alone on the inside, with a cold sweat and a smile on his mouth.

The students, who were in a panic and trying to escape, were left with pale faces, witnessing the extraordinary power and the clock tower that collapsed.

The area had changed from the previous annoyance and was quiet. It is a horror that you can imagine, but when you witness a horror beyond your imagination, people become rigid.

In the frigid air, a man in sunglasses raised a megaphone. Izumo Kusanagi, the executive member of "Homura".

"Hi, keep calm. Didn't you learn anything at school? Don't push, don't run and don't talk during an emergency. It is important to obey those three 'no's. We are not here to cause you trouble. So please remain calm and cooperate. This shouldn't take long."

Kusanagi said with a smoky smile and a soft, reassuring voice, and when he removed the megaphone from his mouth, he exchanged a word or two with Suoh. Suoh seems careless, and now he was walking towards the clock tower that he destroyed.

After looking at his back and taking a breath, Kusanagi turned to the "Homura" people and raised his voice.

"Find the boy who murdered Totsuka, even if you have to destroy this place!"

According to the command, the members of "Homura" screamed. A large group of young men with bad style rioted. He snorted and looked to see if these unmannered thugs could conquer this vast school, but "Homura's" men were unexpectedly well-mannered on a personal level. They began to divide them by hand, and while listening to the students, they began to put them together in one place.

He gently left the place.

When he returned to the school building while he was avoiding the "Homura" boys, the students who still didn't understand the situation were wandering around.

"What's going on...?"

"I just heard an explosion nearby..."

Kukuri, Inaba, Mishina and others huddle together eagerly. He approached them casually.

"Now a lot of people like gangsters have broken through the door and invaded."

In his words, Kukuri and her colleagues expressed fear and suspicion. She maybe she couldn't believe her words because she couldn't feel reality.

However, the school broadcast started to flow at a good time.

"Well, from this moment on, Gakuenjima is under the control of "Homura". I repeat. Gakuenjima is now under the control of "Homura"."

"Lie."

Inaba muttered involuntarily and covered her mouth with both hands. Kukuri supported the one who staggered with a pale face. Mishina turned his face around and looked at the speaker he was broadcasting.

"Students must follow the instructions of our members. As long as you do, you have nothing to fear. We are currently looking for a friend of ours. He looks like the image on the screen. If anyone recognizes him, please report immediately to the closest member of our team."

The hologram monitor in the entrance hall of the important school building, which was sending information about the school festival, was distorted and the video was changed. An image of a boy holding a gun was projected.

"What is this?"

"Oh, this is the guy I saw at the website earlier."

Along with the stunned Kukuri and the others, Mishina screamed. Kukuri looked at Mishina with wide eyes.

"No, it was rumored that it was a video of a murder done as a prank, but I was curious and I kept it. But, it is true that they are looking for him like that. He is a murderer…"

"Why come to our school to find such a person?"

Inaba pursed her lips with a tearful face.

Apparently "Homura" is still looking for "Isana". The body of a child who was his favorite with a cute and harmless face.

That body now walks alone. He still has something to do with "Isana". If "Homura" can find him, it would be better.

Well, that seed is already broken for the "Red King". For Suoh, searching for "Isana" may just be to find a clue.

"Oh, the staff is here! Everyone quietly enter the room!"

Several men from "Homura" ran into the school building and intimidated the students. The schoolgirls scream in fear.

On the other hand, some well-built male students looked at each other and sent signals to each other, and all at once jumped to take control of the "Homura" boys. There were more male students than "Homura", and they probably had confidence in their strength in the martial arts athletic club or something like that. In fact, the boys managed to take the metal bat that they had as a weapon from several of "Homura's" men.

"You are the ones who should be quiet!"

One of the boys barked. However, the "Homura" man laughed. The guys who tried to support themselves turned and kicked with a single kick.

Shouts and echo of marshal. The man from "Homura" did not use flames, but the boys' large bodies flew slightly and fell silent.

"If you follow me, did you say on the air right now that you are not afraid? On the contrary, if you do not obey and make a fuss, I will hit you! Remember that!"

A man from "Homura" said that and took the metal bat that was picked up by a student. When the man shook it slightly, the bat turned red and on fire.

The strange sight increased the voltage of horror from the students. In addition to the fear of simple violence, the fear of the unknown cultivated the students.

"Good.", He giggled inside.

His power pierced people's hearts. He sneaked into the other person through a space in his heart, he shook the other person's heart and opened the door, and made the other person's content yours. Therefore, it is difficult to get into a stable human being.

But now there is no one in this place who has a stable mind. The students were shaking with fear and anxiety, and "Homura" was more excited than usual.

He licked his tongue alone, watching a convenient stage complete.

As the ready meals are lined up, he walks melee.

When the student's body was restricted in his actions and it was inconvenient, he entered "Homura's" body and then entered another student's body and wandered around the school.

Every time he changed bodies, he gained new memories and experiences.

Naturally, he was singing a song of joy again.

The song of delight shone well on the island where elation and crying mingled, and it seemed like an auspicious cry.

He shook his body from side to side, sang a hummed song, and walked down the hall. There was only one voice that followed the melody, but in it many voices overlap and reverberate like a magnificent chorus.

The chorus was the proof that he was not alone, that he was a "King".

(Who will move on? It might be interesting to eat the best ranks of "Homura" here. Oh, but isn't it bad to get close to Anna Kushina? I shouldn't look into that girl's eyes. That girl's sensitive eyes will see through of anyone inside.)

First, he will delve into the mixed environment. The blue will come and start to bite the red, then...

Ping, pong, bread, pong. And a silly sound that was not suitable for this situation echoed, and the transmission flowed again.

"Oh, attention to all the members of our team. The blue dogs will pay us a visit. The groups near the gates, reinforce the guard."

Izumo Kusanagi's voice was heard giving instructions to his friends.

The blue dog is "Scepter 4." It seems that the actors are getting together.

He laughs like a fox. The great delicious song chorus that hasn't stopped yet.

[langstforthesoul]

Happiest Year (Kangst + Hurt/Comfort, Character Injury, Klance)

A/N: So I’m gonna try a different writing style then What I’ve been doing, let me know if you prefer this or the other style. More notes are going to be at the end of this too so stay tuned!

They were in the middle of battle, the others were yelling over the comms while Shiro barked orders out over them the best he could but no one could understand over the panic. The only reason they were panicking was that their sharpshooter, their lover boy, Their Rock/Glue of the team was injured and the wound seemed worse than what they all initially thought.

“Guys I might be on the ropes this time,” the brunette rasped, his breathing coming out wheezy and in a short puff. “And I want you guys that I’ve been fighting this war for you, so you guys can go home too…” Keith, who was holding Lance tight in his arms, began to shake his eyes filled with unshod tears. “Baby, quit talking like you’re going to die! You’re not leaving us!” A single tear slipped down his dirtied cheek, leaving a clean streak of clear skin in its wake. “You can’t leave me..!” Hunk and the others were fighting Galra soldiers and sentries, trying to make a path so Keith could carry Lance to Red to try and get him back to the Castle ship and into an awaiting healing pod Coran had set up. “Keith-“ “You should never have to say goodbye!” Keith yelled over the fighting, leaning Lance against his body so he could use his cannon to help clear the path faster. “Maybe that's just what stupid people do, buddy..” Lance tried to joke, letting out a pained chuckle. “Hang in there, Hermano! We’ll get you into that Healing pod, so please..” Hunk called from where he was, Shooting sentries one after the next. “Please just hang on!” His cries sounded a mixture of pure desperation but determined, he attacked the next sentry that came after him with a look of such Rage it scared Lance a little. When the path was clear enough, Keith Picked Lance up once again, jostling his wound to the point where he cried out in an agonized scream. He gave the Cuban an apologetic look before sprinting across the battlefield and into red. Keith turned on the comms channel and he saw a panicked-looking Coran. “Is the pod ready, cause he has to get in there as soon as we land Coran,” Keith said, already having red fly off the planet they had landed on for this mission. “It is ready and waiting! How is he?” The boy in question groaned, looking paler by the second as the blood from the wound in his chest continued to flow. “Doing great, Coran-“ He tried to say but ended up coughing in the end, blood slipping from his lips. “We’re almost there, just hold on Baby!” Keith yelled, seeing Lance’s eyes flutter shut. “Keep your eyes open Lance, stay awake! You have to stay awake!” Lance let out another pained groan, squinting his eyes open once more and giving his lover a soft smile. “Y’know…” he sucked in a sharp breath. “You gave me peace, and I think I might have wasted it…” The look that adorned Lance's face was filled with love but scrunched up in pain when red jostled a bit. “You know this is hard to admit, but Keith you were my medicine.” His eyes started to flood with the tears he had been trying to hold in the whole time, beginning to tremble in pain. “I don’t wanna die Keith…” He mumbled, feeling himself grow weaker as the tears streamed down his face like a slow-flowing river. “And you won’t, I won’t let you.” Keith, trying to stay strong for Lance, pushed red to fly faster seeing the Castle ship just mere meters away. “We’re almost there Lance!”

As soon as Keith landed red into the ship's hangar, he ran down her ramp and out with Lance unconscious in his arms. Coran was waiting just outside, running after the red paladin, his eyebrows creased and worry lines showing. “Quickly, we don’t have time to take off his armor to put him in a suit!” He said, going directly to the controls to quickly type in the info the machine needed. Keith gently placed Lance into the healing pod, watching it close and fog over. He released the breath he had been holding in since he got out of red, collapsing onto his knees in front of the pod. His body began to tremble from the overexertion, tears slipping from his eyes as he stared down at his hands covered in Lance’s blood. He tried to wipe it on his armor, letting out a choked sob. Coran stepped forward, kneeling next to the younger and placing a hand on his shoulder. “Keith-“ “Coran please, I’m down on my knees again! I’m asking,” His head whipped up to give the older man a look of pure despair. “Is he going to make it?” His voice cracked, thick with the tears that still fell vigorously. Coran what at a loss of words, he looked up at Lance who’s face looked eerily peaceful. “He will be…” He turned back to face the ravenette, his eyes sad but filled with hope. “Now, let's get you cleaned up yeah? The others will be back soon and they shouldn’t see you like this.” He chirped, though it was faked for Keith’s sake. The ladder shook his head, he wanted to stay with his lover but paused, looking back down at himself. “Ok..” he mumbled, standing with the help of The older Altean.

Time Skip (Everyone is back from the Fighting and it's at least 2-3 days later):

Keith, now in a clean set of clothes and holding Lance’s hoodie close to his chest, sat in the med-bay next to the pod. The others came in to check on him a few times, Shiro even tried to get him to go and get some rest in his and Lance’s shared room but… “Lance, please come back to me…” He mumbled, burying his face into the fabric and letting out a shaky breath. He looked back up and moved to sit in front of the healing pod, studying Lance’s face, his figure, the way the blood on his armor was a darker shade of red morphing into brown. “You know I never really thanked you,” He ran a hand through his hair. “So I guess Thank you for the happiest year of my life…” He let out a sad chuckle, tears flooding his eyes when he looked back up at the pod with his vision now blurry. “Thank you for the happiest year of my life, Lance.” His chuckle turned into a sob, his hold on his lover's jacket tightening as he shook. “I don’t think I could forgive myself, I’m so sorry for the ways I couldn’t protect you.”

Flashback (Before the battle started.)

Everyone landed onto the planet's surface, scanning to see where exactly the distress signal was coming from. “Are you sure a distress signal came from here, Pidge?” Shiro asked, exiting his lion and looking around the surrounding area. Judging from the information, or what little they had in the castle, the planet they were on was occupied by Nomadic people who were anything but violent. “For the thousandth time, yes I’m Sure oh captain my captain,” Pidge said, their voice filled with sarcasm towards the end of the sentence. That got a chuckle from Lance as he exited his lion, making sure to keep an eye out for any enemy soldiers or hostile movement. “C’mon Pidgeon, he’s just making sure in case this could be a trap.” Lance chirped, trying to keep the mood light and aloof. Keith came out of his lion cautiously, getting a bad feeling about the whole thing. “Something seems off here..” He muttered, walking up to stand next to Lance and staying on guard. “I know, shouldn’t there be people here..” Lance mumbled under his breath, grabbing his bayard. “Exactly, stay on guard sharpshooter..” “You to samurai..”

“If you two are done being lovey-dovey, we have a mission to get done,” Pidge said from their lion, pushing up their glasses as they look at their scanner one more time. Their face morphed into pure confusion while quickly looking up and around. “What the hell..?” The muttered, looking back down at their scanner. “What’s wrong?” Hunk said, moving over to stand next to them. “This doesn’t make any sense, there should be people here! Even the heat scanner…” Their eyes widen with realization, their head jerking up to look at Shiro. Shiro’s made a grim face before shouting. “Get back in your lions-“ But they were too late, they were all surprised attacked by Galaran soldiers all racing forward with war cries that could shake your very core. Lance pulled out his bayard to give Keith cover as the Ladder ran forward with Shiro and Pidge. The strategy was simple enough, close-range weapons go first while the long-range cover them. That should’ve been how it went… Until Hunk was about to get stabbed from behind but a Galran general sneaking up on the Yellow Paladin. Lance noticed him just as he was going for it and jumped in to take the hit. “¡Dios, Mierda! That Hurts!” Lance yelled, causing the others to whip around only to see their blue paladin impaled by a sword. “Lance!” They all shouted in unison, hunk shooting the general and the sentries approaching. “I’m fine! Focus on your opponents!” He yelled back, shooting any enemy soldiers that came near Keith and Pidge. “We don't need any more injuries, besides it's just a scratch!” He joked, biting down a cry of pain. The others begrudgingly went back to fighting but Keith went to Lance’s side immediately, now having a closer look at the injury that's befallen his lover. “Lance that isn’t a minor injury-“ “I know, but it’s the least of our worries right now!” He growled, his knees giving way but he played it off by pretending to kneel to get a better shot of the never-ending hoard of sentries. “And honestly I could care less right now! Besides, they could hurt you pretty good too if you don't start paying attention, Samurai..” Keith shook his head, and kneeled next to the other, clicking his tongue at the sight of the blood that was oozing out. The Cuban though, his vision filling with black spots, felt his grip loosening on his bayard. “Ok maybe it’s worse than a scratch-“ He mumbled, collapsing against Keith’s chest.

Back to the Present:

Keith winced at the memory, letting out a shaky breath as he curled in on himself. “Yeah, they had made you bleed,” his hands clenched into tight fists. “And we tasted it.” He looked up at the pod once more, his tears long since dried but the feeling of guilt still ever-present in his mind. “I’m here to admit, Lance…” He stood up from his spot, still holding his lover's jacket in his arms as he walked forward placing his palm flat on the healing pod. “That you were my medicine... Oh, love, I couldn’t quit,” He slid down to the floor on his knees, just as he did when they first put Lance into the pod. “And I’m down on my knees again! Lance please…!”

Flashback:

Lance and Keith were cuddled up in their shared room, laying there in silence until Lance spoke. “You know I really should say Thank you.” He spoke softly, trying to keep the mood soft. Keith looked down at the Cuban laying on his chest with a confused look. “What for?” He asked, trying to remember if he had done anything to warrant gratitude. “For giving me the happiest year of my life..” The other mumbled into the Ravenettes chest, holding a fist full of the man's v5 sweater in a tight grip. Keith froze, he hadn’t exactly expected that from Lance, even though the ladder was a huge sap. “Lance-“ Lance sat up on his elbow and looked at Keith with an adoring look. “Thank you for the happiest year of my life..”

Back to the Present (Again):

Keith smiled to himself, the memory leaving a warm feeling in his heart. His eyes began to droop, the exhaustion finally catching up with him as he leaned against the pod. “Wake me up when they build a time machine, I wanna go back..” He mumbled, his voice sounding thoughtful. “Maybe I could have protected you from getting hurt like that..” His eyes soon shut but sleep was still a bit away from his grasp. “Wake me up when I have you sleeping next to me..” he wrapped Lance’s jacket over him, using it as a blanket somewhat. “Cause I really love you…”

Keith jerked up as soon as he heard the pod door hiss open, frantically getting to his feet to catch Lance as he fell out. “Lance! Baby!” He said, pulling back to look at his lover's face, sleepy-looking as it may be. “Keith..?” The Cuban mumbled confused, recognition soon reaching his eyes as they widened. “What happened? Is everyone ok? How long have I been in the pod? Why do you look so exhausted?” One question shot of Lance’s mouth after the other but Keith could only stare. He couldn’t believe it, Lance was more worried about others rather than himself. His eyes filled with tears once more, pulling the other into a tight embrace. “You almost died and you're worried about everyone else?! Lance I-“ he released a choked sob. “I c-could have l-lost you forever!” That's when Lance felt his heart shatter, that exact moment, as he wrapped his arms around the trembling man he loved. “Hey, I’m ok now though. Everything’s ok, mi amor! I would never leave you! Not ever-“ “You nearly DID THOUGH!” Keith shouted, his voice cracking as another sob wracked through him. “And I never got to say Thank you for giving me the happiest year of my life or that I loved you or-Or-“ He grabbed the back of Lance’s armor, the dried blood flaking off as he held him. “I-I love you too but Keith you need to breathe for me,” he rubbed Keith’s back soothingly, trying to keep his voice even and soothing. “You’re starting to hyperventilate, sweetheart.” Keith shook in his arms, taking deep breaths as he started to calm down while listening to lance.

After a few minutes of calming down and holding each other’s, Keith looked at Lance and planted a soft kiss on his lips before quickly pulling away. “I love you…” He mumbled, meeting the other's eyes. “I love you too, but can I go shower and change, I don't think it would be comfortable for either of us if I cuddle you with my armor on.” That drew a chuckle out of Keith as he pulled away from Lance, gently grabbing his hand to drag him out of the med-bay. “Let's go, Sharpshooter, we can take a quick shower together and then go get some rest.”

A/n: ANd with that it OVER, this took at least 3 ½ hours to write but it’s worth it honestly I’m proud of this! I hope you enjoyed it, feel free to point out any mistakes you see, and if you see a way I could Improve my writing just let me know! I hope you all have an amazing day/morning/evening/night and please stay safe out there!

[iwrestlenow]

Many More To Die - Chapter 4

TITLE: Many More To Die (Chapter 4)

FANDOM: Sanders Sides (Necromancer AU)

SUMMARY: Roman discovers that even the power of a king has its limits--but at least he has the power to help Logan in one critical fashion.

Logan is a needy wreck, and can't figure out which way is up, and as desperately as he needs someone--one man--to hold his hand through it all? It only makes things worse somehow.

Meanwhile, through all of this, another chess piece steps out of the shadows and onto the game board--and he's not going anywhere until he gets what, and who, he came for.

SHIPS: Logince (Logan/Roman), future Moceit (Patton/Janus) and Dukexiety (Remus/Virgil)

WARNINGS: Panic attack, but that’s it for this chapter. It’s mostly me having feelings, being TOTALLY UNABLE TO STOP WRITING WHAT THE HELL SOMEONE SAVE ME XD, and more self indulgent garbage that just felt good to write. So there. :P

Also, no betas, we die like men.

NOTES: This is based on the gorgeous piece of art by @gretacticdraws that can be found here. I ended up writing a ficlet for it, and then my brain got swallowed up. Breathe at me wrong, and I’ll write more…hell, who am I kidding? I’ll write more anyway because this? Is self indulgent drivel. XD

Also located at AO3 over here.

“Lord Janus? I want this man dead.”

“Certainly, Your Majesty.”

“Please—mercy, Your Majesty!”

“Now hang on there just a gosh darn, berry pickin', mother lovin' moment, buster! Janny, if you know what's good for you, you will just stop with this nonsense and put the flippin' sword down!”

Roman would have burst out laughing if he wasn't fighting so hard to keep his composure. It could hardly be helped—Patton came up to Logan's shoulder, but only just, and was standing in his cell with his hands on his hips, glaring at the captain of the royal guard like he was a child being scolded for a broken dish.

Janus hardly looked intimidated—but the fact that he stilled after drawing his sword, leaving a terrified guard trembling against the bars of the cell next to Logan's was telling. Seven years, Lord Janus had served as the head of the assassins' corps before retiring to become the captain of the royal guard. Roman had heard stories, but never met the man until today, which was hardly unusual given that Janus was a drake—the son of a human and a dragon. They were notoriously gifted shapeshifters, even with a handicap like his.

Lord Janus was powerful, deadly, and highly skilled at remaining an enimga...but a hobbled child necromancer in a cell had the power to stay his hand.

Janus raised an eyebrow at Patton, but finally glanced at Roman.

Roman nodded. Janus refocused on the guard, pushing the tip of his sword against the hollow of his throat, hard enough to draw blood.

“Majesty, I beg you! I don't want to die!” the guard begged.

Roman let out a bemused little laugh.

“How strange,” he replied as calmly as he could manage, “I was under the impression you did, given the fact that you refused, a second time, to obey a direct order from your king.”

“The Necromata must be bound! It's the law!”

“I am the law!”

Storming up to the guard, Roman let his emotions fuel him—exhaustion, grief, anger, confusion, and the tearing, unspeakable ache that throbbed through him every time his gaze ventured too close to the open door of the cell where Logan still leaned.

The wail he'd let out when Roman pulled free of his grip to order the cell door opened was going to haunt his sleep. The way he stood now, so carefully still, features so meticulously schooled into calm, unfeeling lines, was going to rob him of that breath of life Logan had only just returned to him.

“I am the king now, and I am the ultimate authority.” Roman spat. “Now, I fully understand the need to shackle a prisoner being removed from his cell, but as far as I am concerned, this man is no longer a prisoner here.”

“You can't--”

“I think you'll find that I can.”

“Your Majesty.”

Roman turned at the sound of Logan's voice, cool and even but too quiet, hoarse and thick with the tears he'd finally managed to stop from streaming down his face.

“The law is such that the king cannot overrule it.” Logan declared with deceptive calm. “The Necromata, once imprisoned by the royal family, can only be pardoned for the crimes of their birth with the blessing of the people. A vote, if you will...and no such vote has ever been successfully passed.”

“How do you know this?”

“I have been here for ten years with little more to do than read. I have the entire legal code of the Kingdoms and the criminal rules of order memorized, along with the family tree of the royal family and all available star maps of the area.”

Roman wanted to scream. He wanted to hit something—for a terrible moment, he wanted to order Janus to proceed with the guard's execution for real, rather than just trying to make a point.

Then inspiration struck—bright, blinding, and blessed as it filled him with light.

“My order will still be obeyed.” Roman announced. “These two necromancers—they may not be pardoned, but they will be imprisoned at my pleasure...and it is my pleasure to have them confined to guest quarters upstairs. Have extra guards posted at all available palace entrances. They are not to leave the grounds until the vote has been passed. Successfully.”

He shot a look at the offending guard.

“And the first person to shackle either one of them without violent provocation will be hung at dawn.”

Janus lowered his sword and slid it back into its sheath—the cane he'd been carrying with him—before moving to Roman's side.

“Bit extreme, don't you think, Majesty?” he murmured once he was close enough to ensure that only Roman would hear him.

“My father is dead, Lord Janus.” Roman shot back bleakly. “I have yet to shed a single tear for him--'extreme' feels like an appropriate response right about now.”

“Touche. Of course—and it has nothing to do with the traumatized necromancer you're apparently well acquainted with?”

Roman didn't answer as he moved towards the open door of the cell. Standing before Logan, he extended his hand...

...then suddenly realized that was a bad idea as he put his hand back down again.

********** More.

Logan could hardly string a single coherent thought together around the constant chant in his mind, his marrow, his soul for the prince to touch him again. He couldn't let him, not when it was so agonizing, fire and pressure and somehow affecting every nerve in his body when it was focused on such a small area...

More. More. More.

He didn't understand why restraining himself was so hard. It hurt, it was clearly doing him some kind of physical and psychological harm...and yet he wanted. Needed.

He couldn't remember ever experiencing the sensation.

It very nearly caused another panic attack when the prince dropped his offered hand—and that was another problem entirely, standing before a cell door standing wide open, and the use of the word pardon being thrown around like it wasn't capable of changing the world as Logan knew it—but the pause that seemed to last for an eternity must have only been a few seconds long.

Because a moment later, the Green Man—the prince—was reaching into his pocket and producing a pair of pristine white gloves. A missing piece of the military uniform, how had Logan not noticed? He usually noticed things like that...

When he finished tugging them on, he offered his hand to Logan again. He said nothing...just waited.

Logan shook with the force of effort it took to reach, slowly, to accept the offered hand. The gloves blocked some of that heat from skin to skin contact—and when he gently folded his fingers around Logan's, barely any pressure, it was still intense...but better.

“All good, Berry?”

Logan looked into his eyes sharply, the name ricocheting around in his skull in a manner he hadn't experienced in literal years—not since he'd first discovered his power was awakening again, all concussive force and electricity crawling against the underside of his skin.

All at once, the years fell away, and he was asleep in his cell that first terrible night, dreaming of every monstrous shadow transforming into a protector as green eyes lit the dark.

He opened his mouth to answer yes, he was fine—then realized...

“I do not know which of the princes you are.” he admitted with a bemused huff.

That got a smile from the other man—too brief, far too brief before it fractured to pieces, a crystal goblet slammed to the floor, raining shards of razor sharp light.

“Roman.” he replied. “Pr—King Thomas Roman II, but you may address me by my name.”

“Hardly acceptable, is it, Majesty?” Janus mused.

“Given that my life is currently in this man's hands—and the future of my father—I'd say he's earned a few niceties, Lord Janus.” Roman announced, raising his voice to ensure everyone within earshot was aware of it. Logan had a strange feeling that Lord Janus spoke up for precisely that purpose, to make his situation known.

Logan's, not Roman's—Logan knew that anyone with a shred of loyalty to the king would probably kill him if given the chance. There was no question that someone would likely accuse a necromancer with ties to the crown prince of the murder. Fear for Roman's safety would keep him protected.

Janus was that kind of man, shrewd and shameless—Logan knew precious little about Prince Roman, but to discover that he was equally blessed with the gift of strategy was...intriguing.

“Lord Janus, see to it that Logan's cell mate is made comfortable, and shown around the north wing of the palace. That is where I would prefer they spend the bulk of their time.” Roman declared. “I will take custody of this prisoner myself. When you are done, I want you, the dungeon master, the head prison mage, and a heart healer in the war room, immediately. Send for my brother as well.”

“Yes, Your Majesty—but I cannot send you alone.” Janus replied. Surveying the guards in their presence, and grimacing with impatience, he finally took a few steps down the corridor and flagged down another guard.

“You! Fetch the cadet from the graveyard patrol, now! I want him on the king's detail.”

Roman nodded his thanks, finally turning his attention back on Logan. Between those green eyes and the warm pressure enfolding his hand, ravaging his nerves and making his chest throb with pure emotion, he wasn't sure he could stand it much longer without losing his composure.

“Are you all right?” Roman asked quietly, stepping closer and into Logan's personal space. Strangely, Logan realized he could feel that as well, radiant heat and buzzing static crawling across his skin, too close and not enough and everything.

More. More. More.

“I am not.” he admitted. “Hardly unusual, given that touch starvation is a common condition among the Necromata, to say nothing of the Claim.”

“The Claim? What's that?”

Logan's mouth snapped shut, very real panic rising in his chest again.

“Whoah—Logan? Logan, breathe. Look at me, you need to breathe.”

The Claim. He knew, knew what Logan had done, was holding his hand and Logan could feel it, but now he'd spoken about the Claim, about his power, and he was going to die this time...

...two...three...four...hold for one...two...three...four...five...

“That's it, Logan. There you go, can you do it again?”

...good job, now again: in for one...two...three...four...

Pressure. Pressure, pressure, pressure, everywhere, pressure pressure unrelenting pressure...

“Hey!”

Logan blinked, attention snapping to the young man suddenly standing in front of him. He was nearly Logan's height, with straight black hair that hung in dark eyes, flinty as stone.

“Name five things you can see.”

“I...what?”

“Do it. Five things.”

Logan shook his head, and almost immediately his gaze was drawn back to Roman.

“Green Man.” he managed to reply. Roman smiled, and Logan felt that mantra start tattooing itself against the inside of his skull, blotting out the fear and panic.

“Okay, keep going. Let's keep going.”

Logan only realized they were moving because Roman still held his hand, was tugging him with the barest of pressure—and Logan's traitorous body followed. Between the cadet, demanding Logan name more things he could see, along with touch, smell, hear, and taste, and Roman's silent encouragement, he found himself moving out of his cell and towards the stairs of the dungeon.

Moving up each stair. Moving through the gate, and into the palace...moving, traveling, with only Roman's hand to restrain him.

Then he was in the palace, above the dungeons...and if he never saw the outside world again, Logan still felt like he could call himself a free man.

********** “Thank you.”

The cadet flinched a little, looking towards the king. “What?”

“Thank you.” King Roman repeated, still crouched motionless by the chair the prisoner had all but collapsed into. He'd basically passed out when they reached the war room, but didn't seem to be in any distress—just exhausted and overstimulated.

“That trick, focusing on his surroundings—it's greatly appreciated.” he went on, his gaze never leaving the sleeping man's face. He still held his hand, like he might vanish if he let him go. “How did you know it would work?”

The cadet had to grit his teeth for a second, finding himself watching the sleeping prisoner despite his best efforts not to. He looked...well, he looked like shit, and it was hard. It was so hard to watch, but he had to do it.

He was finally here, and he had to make sure that he didn't screw up again.

“I have anxiety.” he finally replied, keeping his tone even. “Nightmares, panic attacks, the works. My brother used to help me through them with tricks like that. He'd have me focus on my surroundings, or make me pick out colors—he even made me a special blanket to help me sleep. It, uh—it might be good for him? The guard who got me mentioned that this necromancer can feel your touch? If he's not used to contact, it could...”

“You'd be willing to do that?”

“Of course, sir.”

“Go and fetch it, then.”

“Sir, I was ordered to stay with you.”

“I'm the king. I overrule your orders.” King Roman replied.

The cadet lifted his gaze to the king's face, his stomach sinking when he realized he was being stared at. Hard.

Ohhhhh, shit.

“You don't call me 'Majesty.' Why?”

The cadet tried to be discreet about taking a steadying breath as he shrugged. “You have a pet necromancer now. All due respect, but I don't think you'll have the job long.”

“What do you know about necromancers?”

“I know they're not evil. Only reason I'm still here is that you seem to know it, too.”

King Roman nodded, gaze flicking down before it returned to the sleeping necromancer.

“Cadet...do you know what a Claim is?”

The cadet swallowed thickly. No...oh no.

“It's a binding ritual.” the cadet replied. “The Necromata are capable of manipulating death, but when they can't? They take it.”

“Away?”

“No—into themselves. They take the victim's dying breath, infuse it with their blood, and return it to the person it belongs to. That way, when the victim's time comes, they survive it.”

The cadet looked to the necromancer again.

Gods, Loganberry—what did you do?

“And the necromancer dies in their place.”

To his credit, the king paled, his free hand lifting to touch Logan's hair like the cadet itched to—so close for the first time in ten years, but he couldn't even comfort him.

He had to stay put. By the door, protecting the king and his charge.

After a decade, Virgil was finally, finally within reach of Logan in every way that mattered, and he would die before he jeopardized his one chance to save him.

Virgil was the one who got his big brother caught and imprisoned in the first place—he was damn well going to make sure that he was the one to set things right.