#and of course I’ll use that resemblance for AU purposes

[fancycat-thesilvertux]

Can you please do more of the mk and Lloyd being half brother au I love it so much

Absolutely!

In the revamped edition of the LMK x N: MoS AU, I mentioned that MK’s got relatives from his mother’s side of the family.

=3 Those relatives? Kai and Nya.

After the LBD debacle is over with, Garmadon decides he can’t stay in the Underworld any longer. He had to stand by as a shadow and even though he gave support through his Skulkin army and the many weapons and instructions he provided to fight she who is a 6!+€# with, he still feels like he didn’t do much.

So he tells the group that he’s got some organizing to do in the Underworld and won’t be around for a while. MK and Lloyd know that their father is up to something, because this is Garmadon. The boys aren’t the only ones to know something is up though, but they need to cleanup after LBD’s reign of terror, so they can’t split their focus and after Garmadon helped them out so much, they can’t say he’s wholly evil to do anything too bad, right?

Well … Garmadon wouldn’t do anything too bad.

And here’s where things start to differ for the Ninjago portion of the AU. Nya was the one to be kidnapped in the Ninjago special, yeah? We’re flipping the script and it’s Kai that’s kidnapped.

Since Kai looks like MK slightly, and the Skulkin report with pictures of the targets, Garmadon sees the resemblance and look the man misses his sons and he’s curious at the resemblance Kai has to MK. So instead of Nya he has the Skulkin kidnap Kai. Garmadon was never in his right mind, his nature as a family man - and nobody can pry that from my hands that Garmadon was and is a family man when it came down to it - fighting against the evil that he was cursed with.

This leads to Nya getting trained as the water ninja and unlocking her powers there because Wu doesn’t understand what his brother is playing at but if it’s using Kai to get the sword because Kai is the fire ninja well what beats fire but water?

So when Kai gets kidnapped and brought to Garmadon, Kai is freaked because that’s LORD GARMADON and Kai is tied up. He can’t defend himself. Garmadon is also staring at him and that unnerves Kai a great deal. Garmadon then comments at how uncanny it is, and while Kai is confused and scared he’s more confused, and asks what’s uncanny.

Garmadon tells Kai truthfully that Kai looks like his son. Which cue Kai.exe stopped working. Wtf?

So I did have a thought about after Kai is freed and all the thing is Garmadon had actually talked to Kai and revealed information that caused Kai to have doubts about Wu. Information regarding Kai and Nya’s parents and their past. So Kai isn’t very trusting of Wu, which causes a lot of tension. Because of what Garmadon said about Kai looking like MK, Kai later got a DNA test done to check for any other relatives he and Nya have. And lo and behold the system did find some relatives out of Ninjago - some very distant relatives.

MK and co train Kai after finding it out, especially because Kai contacted them on what happened to Garmadon. To say the boys are less than pleased with their father is an understatement, but hey, at least they found out about there being family in Ninjago outside their uncle!

[saabbi]

Regret part 7

Warmth in the freezing snow

Genshin Impact Adeptus!reader au

warnings: light angst?, mentions of drugging and syringes, probably messy, crappy quality

words: ~2.8k

Notes: series is resuming after the hiatus. I had a hard time writing this chapter (because I suck at writing) so I really hope this chapter didn't turn out to be too messy and confusing. ao3 series link

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Stepping out the ship, you’re immediately greeted by the harsh and nostalgic icy cold breeze. Pure white snowflakes that dance around your vision and the pile of soft snow beneath your feet tells you that you’re back in Snezhnaya.

You asked a subordinate to help you deliver the lantern you had bought for Teucer and obediently followed another Fatui member, who guided you to the chamber where the Tsarista is patiently waiting for your arrival.

“Your highness, I have returned.” You kneeled down on one knee, head lowering to pay your respects. The Tsarista’s ice cold gaze pierces you, making you anxious on why she summoned you.

“My loyal subject.” a voice so calm and quiet, barely to be heard, yet crystal clear and reverberates around the shallow and empty hall, sending a chill down your spine. You look up upon her call, acknowledging that she remains ever so strikingly breath-taking, as resplendent as the most exquisite flower, as elegant as Snezhnaya’s never-melting snow.

“Dottore has found a way to further enhance the capabilities of Fatui, and your aid is needed to achieve it.” She walks closer to you with each step, stopping just before your kneeled figure.

“To achieve it, your aid is necessary. I trust that you will provide all the help Dottore needs dutifully, yes?” A simple question, but her tone indicates that she does not accept rejection as an answer.

“Yes, of course.” The Tsarista seems delighted at your answer, resting her chilly hand on your cheeks and lightly caressing it with her thumb. The subtle intimate gesture however, was nothing resembling that of affection. The Tsarista’s sharp gaze remains fixated on you, yet it doesn’t feel like she’s properly looking at you at all. Her gaze has always been like that, as if she’s looking for something deeper in your soul, but not your existence.

“Dottore, come in. The final mission of our primeval harbinger shall now be performed.” The coldness on your cheeks is replaced by the sudden gushes of wind, the words leaving the Tsarista’s mouth leaving you off guard as you abruptly shot your head up.

“...Your highness? What does that-” Cut off by a harsh slam of the door, you turn to the entrance only to reveal a masked man with curly blue locks- Dottore. The condescending smirk spreading on his face as he meets your wary eyes sets off alarms in your head, screaming that this man is up to no good.

Your hand immediately reaches towards the hilt of your sword resting on your hips, ready to draw it out if he makes any suspicious movements. Furrowing your eyebrows and eyeing Dottore’s every move, unsure of what he would do.

“Relax, relax. This is all under the Tsarista’s orders, doesn’t do too much harm...I guess?” Dottore, now casually twirling a syringe filled with a dangerous-looking fluid, puts his hands up in the air in a placating manner, but his halfhearted response only makes you glare at him cautiously.

“I will have to question you on what you’re about to do, Dottore.” It’s all under the Tsarista’s orders, and you thought it would just be something about training new Fatui recruits, but Dottore’s behaviour insinuates that there is much more than that, and seems like the syringe is to be used on you.

“Oh this? Haha! I’m not quite sure, maybe knock you out for a bit? Y’know, draw out your adeptal powers to the maximum potential, I weaponise it, and voila! Fatui gets a new upgrade! Wonderful plan right?”

Dottore sure made it sound like no big deal, but you know that’s not all the catch. Because if it’s about your adeptal powers, then surely, the Tsarista’s intention is to-

“You’d better not do any stupid movements with your sword, yeah? It would be bad if you were to go against her highness’ orders, after all, you are her most loyal subordinate. Unless… you plan to commit treachery?” Dottore leered as your grip on the sword tightens, conflicted on what to do.

Reluctantly, you peered over to the Tsarista, who has not said a word at the impasse and tense situation between you and Dottore, silently watching everything unfold before her. The Tsarista’s glacial smile never fades as she meets your gaze, not giving you a definite response, but perhaps acknowledging Dottore’s words.

“That’s… not all there is to this, is it?” Despite your loyalty to the Tsarista, this question must be raised for your own sake. Adeptal energy has always been a rather sensitive subject to both you and the Tsarista, with you knowing that she has always wanted to utilise your mysterious powers to help her achieve her goals.

“Quite the sharp one huh? Well I suppose there’s no use beating around the bush, I’ll do you the favour in telling you this- Your adeptal energy is to be drained completely for us to use, ahahaha!” A fit of manical laughter jolted through him, his atrocious appearance matching his abhorrent personality.

“And that would leave me...vulnerable and powerless?” The appalling smirk that makes you want to throw up, the messed up plan that makes you want to run away from the Tsarista’s chambers.

“B i n g o! You neither have a vision nor delusion, so without those powers, you’re pretty much useless.” Dottore approaches you, barely stopping in front of you. Lowering his voice, he mumbled into your ears, “and you’ll be thrown away by the Tsarista, officially being useless to her. I’m sure you know by now, that all her highness cares about is that adeptal energy of yours, and not you yourself?” even at such a low volume, his mockery towards you can clearly be heard.

Of course you knew, that all the Tsarista’s interested in is your mysterious powers. It doesn’t take a detective to figure out her intentions in bringing you to her nation. Even after millennia of you serving her with your utmost loyalty, all she has taken interest in is your powers.

The cold Tsarista that requested you like an object from Morax as a trade of peace, and never paid you much attention. The Tsarista who only shows you some form of affection and addresses your name when she needs you to carry out her plans. To her, it was obvious that you are a mere chess piece, for her to attain her grand goals.

Despite knowing this, you still turned your head once more towards the Tsarista, locking gazes with her, searching for something that even you yourself wasn’t sure what you’re looking for in her eyes, but to no avail, the same empty eyes with no any sort of emotion returning your disappointment. That is how little you meant to her.

It has always been, a foolish hope of yours, to believe that one day, if you stay by her side long enough, you would become a figure that holds much more place in her heart. But that has never been the case, her icy heart never had space for you, locking you out. She has enough love for all the other harbingers, all except you.

The best course of action right now, is to draw out your blade and resist against the Tsarista. You have to defend yourself, you have to get out alive and well, because you promised Zhongli, Xiao, and Ganyu to return. You have to unsheathe your sword right this instant.

But your hands remain frozen, disobeying your commands and desperate internal cries. It should be simple, to protect yourself against those who could not care less about your existence and never acknowledging you, and flee to Liyue. So why can’t you bring yourself to do so?

Because it would mean that you’re defying the person whom your loyalty is dedicated to, denying the Tsarista’s ambitions.

The same Tsarista who ripped you apart from your family, but also the one who gave you a new identity, and a new place to call home, giving you a reason to live on by serving her.

And you who watched over her carefully throughout your lifetime; when she became obsessed with the idea of bringing down celestia, to the point where delusions are invented just for the sole purpose of resisting against the sacred land where gods are rumoured to reside.

You never found out the reason behind her obstinacy in bringing down celestia, but you stayed beside her long enough to witness her desire for power and authority to continue to expand into a bottomless abyss, and the times when she struggled.

Times when her immature plans backfired, times she felt livid and Snezhnaya would be in raging blizzards for weeks, times when she doubted her own decisions. You were always there, by her side and ready to jump into action whenever she needed you to.

Through trial and error, she learned to develop well thought-out plans after calculations and taking precautionary measures, and recruited talented individuals. The harder she falls, the higher she bounces. She was undeniably a dazzling existence to you.

The Tsarista is a blinding lone star that continues to glisten even if other stars have faded, showing its resistance towards the devouring night sky. Someone so cruel and brutal, yet ever so resplendent, that you couldn’t peel your eyes off her.

A star that defies the night sky.

And you, who only knew how to live under orders and pretty much lived a tedious life besides carrying out Fatui duties, are dull and have long succumbed to darkness.

So how could you deny her? The one who never faltered, the flames of ambition that refuses to die out no matter what? You couldn’t bring yourself to betray her even at this very moment, because you have watched over her for far too long.

“This turned out to be rather...disappointing.” Seeing you loosening your grip on the sword and putting down your defenses, Dottore scoffs.

You take a sharp inhale, making up your mind. Regretfully, your decision is to stay loyal to the Tsarista and faithfully do as she wishes up until the very end. A very foolish decision even you are aware of, and one that makes your heart scream in agony knowing that you’re once again being thrown away. Even so, this is the path you have chosen.

.

.

.

Drained, you felt. It felt as if your powers erupted all at once, and got sucked dry by a vacuum cleaner and left to die on the road. Your role as the twelfth harbinger has been dismissed, now just an identity-less wanderer. The Tsarista truly is a cruel person, you thought, to just throw you out and let you crawl away all by your own whilst surrounded by nothing but coldness and snow, knowing that you right now are incredibly weak and vulnerable. She didn’t even have someone to escort you to a shelter, simply took away your harbinger identification with the usual eerie smile.

But archons do you feel horrible, dizzy and nauseous, on the verge of passing out. Now that you’ve lost your place, where would you go? Tired, cold and nowhere to go, you lean on a nearby bark to grab a hold of yourself, trying figure out what to do from now on.

Slumping down and shutting your eyes, you are forced to face your own emotions that you have repressed in the Tsarista’s chambers. Your heart aches so much, the strong pulsations being the only thing resounding in your ears, it hurts more than how your body is right now.

What a pathetic destiny you face, to be thrown away whom you trusted and served twice in your lifetime. It hurts so much, your heart continuously screams to you, not forgiving the way you hurt it so severely. So pathetic, you are so pathetic, you thought.

Even after millennia, you still never found a place you truly belonged to, your miserable and pathetic self was not accepted anywhere. You know very well the Tsarista has always been using you, yet facing the harsh reality is not as easy as you thought.

Wouldn’t it be better if the abyss consumed you? To be embraced by darkness and vanish, not having to face pointless emotions and drama? If only your eyes never opened back from the first time you dirtied your own hands, and instead swallow by the cold and hungry arms of demise- if you only died back then, would you still have to face such circumstances?

“...Hey, comrade.” a light whisper of a familiar voice enters your ears, dragging you back from your thoughts. You looked up at the one who called for you, only to find your vision blurry and cheeks feeling wet and cold. You didn’t even realise droplets of tears had trickled down your cheeks, you are even surprised that you’re capable of crying, you hadn’t shed a tear, let alone cry out loud for so long that you had forgotten how it felt.

Childe crawls closer, slowly wrapping you into a warm hug and gently strokes you on the head like how he has treats his siblings. You feel embarrassed to be comforted by someone much younger than you and being treated like a child, but returned the hug nonetheless. Not knowing how much you needed a hug, you find his embrace to be pleasant and safe.

“There’s a ship heading to Liyue, so let’s get you home to where it’s warm and safe, yeah?” Home, Childe said, you wanted to retort, but somehow ‘home’ and ‘Liyue’ just sounded right. Is it okay if you return there? To seek asylum?

“Come on comrade, it’d be devastating if you missed the ride!” slumping your weak arms over his shoulders and a hand on your waist to support you, lifting you onto your feet to lead you to the harbour.

“I-I’m sorry for what happened, and that I...I couldn’t help you. If I had known what Dottore was scheming, I would have talked to the Tsarista and convince her not to adopt such a brutal method.” His cheery voice is replaced by one with remorse, avoiding your eyes.

“I didn’t know Dottore came up with such an outrageous method, the Tsarista didn’t inform us of her plan! I- I should’ve known Dottore was up to no good! I could’ve done something-” Getting agitated, his speech hastens and stumbles over his own words.

“Hey, hey. Calm down, you know it’s not your fault.” You cut him off, giving him a soft slap on the back. “The Tsarista had such plans a long time ago, she just...never found the right methods until today, I guess.”

Somehow, it only made Childe feel even worse, guilt and sympathy all shown on his face.

“Come on, where’s your usual jolly self? A gloomy expression doesn't suit you at all. Teucer and Tonia will be worried for their #1 toymaker of Snezhnaya.” you mustered a feeble smile, assuring him that you’re fine.

“Well, never thought I’d hear you crack a joke after all these years…” Childe’s lips curve into a relieved and playful smile. Although, you have to admit, it does makes you feel better knowing that he’s worried for you.

.

.

.

“This is the Crux, you might’ve seen their crew around Liyue before. I spoke with the captain, and it’s a huge relief that she accepted our request!” You and Childe stumbled into the guest room that is kindly lent to you, with Childe immediately helping you get on the bed and wrapping you in blankets.

“You had a not-so-pleasant eventful day, it’s best if you warm up and rest now. I can’t go back with you, but I’ve contacted Zhongli, he should be there to pick you up when you arrive.” with a soft tone, Childe picks up your hand and gently strokes your palms, taking a note of your pale complexion, you remind him of his siblings when they were sick. He turns to leave you alone, about to close the door.

“Hey, Childe?” He abruptly stops and turns back to you with a concerned look, worried if you’re still feeling unwell and perhaps he could help.

“Thank you.” but only two simple words came out of your mouth. So simple and short, but more than enough to convey the gratitude and respect you held for him.

Childe breaks into a beaming smile, “Of course! We’re friends after all, right comrade? I think I’m even your best friend!” to which you chuckled. Yeah, you suppose he isn’t wrong on that.

Just before he closes the door completely, he halts and opens his mouth, “Teucer adored your gift, he and Tonia wanted to prepare something in return… I’ll bring it to you next time, yeah? And perhaps drink tea too at Zhongli’s?”

“Yes, I shall look forward to dear Teucer and Tonia’s gift then, it’s a promise.” You feel your consciousness slip away, closing your eyes and replying to Childe with a light smile on your face.

“It’s a promise!” He enthusiastically replied, only to realise he should tone it down to let you sleep in peace. “Sweet dreams, comrade.” Just before passing out on your bed, you hear Childe’s almost inaudible reply and a click on the door shutting close.

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[bratkook]

one chance. (m) knj. teaser.

pairing. flash!namjoon x reader genre. fluff, angst, smut, superhero!au word count. approx 20k warnings. light hearted, some fighting (not graphic), mentions of character death (also not graphic...or permanent), mutual pining, namjoon is an adorably sweet dork !! smut: tbd as i write! but ofc filthy summary. namjoon knows he only has one chance to go back and make things right, but is he prepared to live with the potential consequences that his actions could cause? note. this was going to be part of a bts super hero collab that fell through (& i hope the author’s involved still post their fics) i’m about halfway through writing it and hope this will give me the motivation to finish it lmao. i might do a tag list if anyone is interested?? lmk muah.

The searing pain is felt before Namjoon even hits the floor, shooting down his fingertips when he attempts to move them, making his shoulder ache with each breath he takes. The plastic drums he had just collided into—an impact at a speed they weren’t designed to withhold—lay tattered in bits and chunks all around him, cold water that would typically be held inside them now spilled out and soaking into his suit. 

A hiss escapes his lips as he remains on the wet floor, already hearing the rushing footsteps approaching him. “It’s broken!” he shouts out, wincing when he once again attempts to move his arm. “Why isn’t it healing if it’s broken?”

When you and Hoseok finally reach him, you breathe a sigh of relief. From the absolute chaos his crash had caused, you were expecting to see him a lot more battered and bruised. Instead he lay on his side, hand gently cradling his aching shoulder with a grimace on his face. 

“Holy shit, that was awesome.” Hoseok barely spares a glance at Namjoon, overstepping him to assess the damage caused, tapping away at the screen of his tablet as he does so, checking the speed data he had captured. 

“You told me these would hold,” Namjoon grumbles, foot kicking a nearby scrap of plastic, another groan leaving him when his shoulder throbs. 

“That was just a guess.” Hoseok brushes him off, continuing to type away as he circles the crash scene. He only approaches Namjoon to pluck the Go-pro off his head, pocketing it with a sheepish smile on his face. 

With a subtle eye roll, you’re crouching down to meet Namjoon’s body, hands gently reaching out to see what the problem was. He lets his hand fall from it’s protective position, eyes squeezing shut as he waits for the burst of pain to come, jaw clenching when your fingers press along his shoulder, clearly feeling the way it had popped out of place. 

“It’s not healing because it’s not broken.” Namjoon finally opens his eyes now, peering up at you and gulping when he realizes just how close you are. He can clearly see the worry in your eyes as you try to see just how bad it is, a crease between your brows that he wants to rub out with the pad of his thumb, small frown on your lips that only makes him feel worse for going against your warning of this being a bad idea. 

A small huff spills from your lips once you realize you won’t be able to help him until you’re back at the lab without this suit—a suit that Hoseok calls his pride and joy—covering him up. “It’s dislocated. You probably tore some ligaments and tendons, but those will heal up just fine once we pop it back into place.”

“Wait, is that gonna hurt?” he whines out, huffing out the strands of his brown hair that had fallen over his face and gasping in pain when you purposely prod at the swollen joint with a small glare. 

“I’ll make sure it does so you remember to never go against my warnings.”

“Oh god, you’re doing this on purpose!” Namjoon yells, sat on the cold chair, knees pulled up as he braces for the pain. 

“I told you I was,” you smirk, extending his arm out, hands placed against his palm with the other on his trap muscle to get a good grip. The loose threads of his suit tickle his skin, a product of you cutting the fabric to double check that the only thing wrong was in fact his dislocated shoulder. 

Did you actually have to cut it? No. This was just your childish way of getting back at Hoseok for convincing Namjoon to do this. 

The grimace never leaves his face as you stretch the limb out, twisting it slowly to the right angle before pulling back with a slight pop once it settles back into its rightful spot. 

He feels the relief instantly, tense muscles relaxing as he sags back into the chair, face no longer contorted in pain when you gently lower his arm. Namjoon swears he’s never felt better, already able to lift his arms as if nothing ever happened, the torn tendons quickly repaired and back to normal thanks to his regenerative ability.  

“Good to go. If you pop it out of place again you’re gonna have to do it yourself.”

“Yeah right. I’ll just have Hoseok do it for me.”

Right on cue, a crash sounds out behind you, followed by a shout and an apology as Hoseok picks up whatever gadget he was currently working on. 

“You sure about that?” you question with a smug smile, crossing your arms under your chest as you step back. As smart and helpful as Hoseok was, his mind was far too focused on the technology surrounding him. If Namjoon seriously injured himself, the only person who would know what to do, was you. 

He knew this, and sometimes he liked that fact, not opposed to the way you’d constantly worry about him—totally choosing to ignore the reason why you did so was because it was your job. That tiny factor in the equation was tucked into the back of his mind. His small crush was innocent, and if looking forward to seeing what color lipstick you’d wear that day helped him deal with getting poked, questioned, and forced to run on a treadmill to document his speed, then that's fine by him. 

“I won’t dislocate my shoulder again. I promise.” 

Something about the smile on his face does nothing to ease your worry, and as Hoseok emerges from his room with a giddy laugh, you feel the need to pry. 

“What the hell were you trying to do anyway?”

“I think we’re close!” Hoseok announces, your question being brushed aside as he thrusts his tablet into Namjoon’s now fully mobile arms. The only thing lighting up the screen is a skew of numbers along with a diagram and some fancy looking animated figure that slightly resembled himself. It meant nothing to Namjoon so he doesn’t bother trying to decipher it, looking back up at Hoseok with a confused expression. 

“I don’t think me making those plastic drums explode got us any closer.” A small shiver courses through him as he recalls the pain from his shoulder once more. 

“Oh yeah, that was pointless. But I think I figured out another way.” Hoseok grabs the tablet once more, tapping a few more times before another animation fills the screen. Peering over his shoulder you spot what it is, a golden animation of what looks to be a treadmill, swirls flowing on either side of them that you believe to represent wind. 

“Another way for what?” You question again, not liking the sly look on Hoseok’s face. 

“Time travel.” He says it so casually, not even sparing you a glance as he flips the tablet over to show Namjoon. 

That wasn’t what you were expecting. When you had walked in on Hoseok pitching the idea to Namjoon, wanting to document his full speed, push it further to see what more he was capable of, you thought it was just to gather information to help when it came to figuring out a plan of action the next time a meta-human decided to torment the city. 

“Time travel?” you repeat, a displeased look on your face that Namjoon spots instantly. The small wrinkle between your brows is back and he can’t even allow himself to find it adorable because the small glare you were giving Hoseok changes course and stares directly at him. 

“Yeah,” he quietly admits, pressing his lips together gently. His saving grace comes in the form of his phone ringing loudly, cutting through the tense silence and making him jolt in his seat, hands fumbling for the device.

He has never been more thankful to get a call from work, your scolding being directed at Hoseok now, but Namjoon can hear it through his current conversation. The worried tone in your voice is clear as you question Hoseok’s sanity, stating how dangerous time travel could be in the grand scheme of things. Hoseok can only stumble over his words, flustered at being on the receiving end of your lecture. 

Namjoon ends the phone call right on time to hear you shout, “Are you trying to start World War three?!”

“I gotta go…” he whispers, slowly sliding off the chair trying to be as quiet as possible, hoping he wouldn’t be detected. But before he can flash out of there, you’re looking at him again. 

“Not so fast.” He freezes instantly, hands lifted up in front of him. “We’re not done talking about this—“

“I know, but I gotta go. I do have an actual job after all.”

Hoseok glares at Namjoon, “So you’re gonna leave me here to get yelled at...alone?”

Namjoon gives him a guilty smile, shrugging and mumbling out a quick apology before bolting out of there—literally. Your hair flows up at the speed, Hoseok’s shirt flapping wildly, and nearby documents scatter around from the gust of air he had caused. The only thing left behind is the red suit draped across the chair he had been sitting on, flashing out of it and into his regular clothes before leaving to work. 

“What was the Gopro for?” you question. As much as you didn’t like the idea of time travel, you were slightly curious about the entire situation. 

“Just thought it’d be sick to film it. Like imagine if it actually works and we have solid proof?” Hoseok’s eyes glimmer at the prospect of it all, tapping at the screen to replay the footage captured earlier. The two of you have front row seats of Namjoon’s earlier crash, and seeing the chaos along with hearing Namjoon’s grunts of pain a second time makes you glare at Hoseok once again. 

You reach forward and grab the discarded red suit from the chair, balling it up and tossing it at Hoseok’s face. “Patch it up. I had to rip the sleeve to properly see his shoulder.”

He whines loudly as he peels the material off of his face, fingers clutching the precious suit and gasping when he spots the torn area. “You monster!”

[ackermanshoe]

Just a few things to talk about here: lengthy 😩

Levi being a 2 in teamwork meaning he never had chemistry while fighting alongside others, like ever. But then mikasa happened. As if isayama spelled it out for us that Levi and mikasa’s connection is so special, particularly to Levi, from the beginning. So now you realise that Levi has experiences with mikasa that he has NEVER had before with anyone, ever.

So you have seen this picture before but I’d like to take the time to dig deep into this. It’s from erens point of view and it most likely shows how he remembers these characters to be most of the time. Connie and admin being playful with each other, Sasha laughing at them, floch and marlo talking and hitch (?) just existing there because eren prolly never interacted with her.

Hanji in the background smiling at the group and Erwin giving them a soft smile. However there’s something particular about both Levi and jean isn’t it? Yeah you guessed it, both of them are looking at mikasa’s direction. ( I saw a post where they were trying so hard to refuse the FACT that Levi was looking at mikasa, even though they acknowledged that Jean was. 🤥🤥)

And lastly mikasa softly smiling at eren. You can clearly see Jean being glaring at that and the fact that isayama drew ALL of their eyes so crystal clear EXCEPT both Levi and Jean,,,, gets me. So you’re going to draw faces of people being themselves but what purpose does it serve you to draw both Levi’s and Jean’s( Jean who is a known mikasa simp) face looking at mikasa’s direction but not draw their eyes ( pupils ) clear? Was it forshadowing their mutual feelings towards her? Since “eyes are the window to the soul” and the drawing does not allow for us to get a clear view of their eyes was isayama implying that both Levi and Jean had hid their feelings for her?

Of course jeans face has a certain darkness to it because everybody is aware of his unrequited love and isayama does little to hide that. But notice how both Levi and his faces are tilted in a way. And the most obvious connection to both Jean and Levi are the way Levi is positioned almost in a line behind Jean, which creates a vector line from their eyes leading straight to mikasa.

Let's talk about this shall we? See how by placing the dark haired people on the front and centre has created a salient within this frame? Yeah the rest of the people in there are either blonde or light haired, Isayam placed each character there with a purpose. Now I'm not saying the 4 heads makes it look like a heart shape but that's excatly what I'm SEEING. maybe, just maybe this was a forshadowing of mikasa's choice, since she was placed in the middle of both Levi and Eren. Eren, whose face is not placed on the same level as Mikasa and Levi could possibly represent "dream" or a reality which would be hard for Mikasa to reach, therefore giving a hint of chapter 138 and mikasa's headache AU.

Whereas Levi, despite his height, face is on the same level as mikasa's. A form of equality, sameness, familiarity and most importantly symbolising reality.

Since he isn't hard to reach from where is Mikasa is placed. And lastly Gabi, we have all seen rivamika parental mode kicking in the recent chapters and here Gabi being in between Levi and her could possibly hint their parenthood, an option that will only be available if Mikasa choose reality: Levi. Therefore Gabi representing quiet simply Levi and mikasa's possible kid. Ackerbaby 👶

This panel, I'm dying to talk about this.most important question: is it Levi's tears that's falling?

I have stared at this for houRS, and I still don't have an unbiased answer. Although most would discard this as spit or sweat Levi probably has from yelling, I'm not fully convinced by it. Maybe it's my desparate rivamika mind that's refusing to let it go but how would spit or sweat end up where his bandage is?

On the too right corner we see multiple drops but why would anything but a tear be where you can see that single droplet of water on his bandages? It's literally so suspicious which is why isayama makes me mad, he teases so much and so subtly. He doesn't show Levi's eyes there, he could have, to emphasize on Levi's level of worry which could have been more effective when reading his expression and yet isayama chose to show his widened mouth to showcase Levi's anxiety.

I'm still debating on this however there's no mistaking it that Levi cares for Mikasa more than anyone.

Which brings me to this:

The similarities that I can not call parallels just yet, between erehisu and rivamika is really comforting as cruel it maybe to mikasa and historia. Levi is willing to have historia eat the beast titan without remorse, without thinking. Where as eren as we all know will do anything but sacrifice historia. Yes, anything. Even if it means putting mikasa ( and admin) on the boat as everyone else and letting them do whatever they want. In a way both of them are treating both mikasa and historia the same way.

Note Levi’s eyes while talking about historia almost looks psychotic which is unlike Levi and his eyes while looking at mikasa.

Eren who is pressed down to one single choice which might risk mikasa’s life but he won’t sacrifices historia. Protecting her.

Levi who decides to help mikasa has made a choice without any regret, relying on her.

And as for their respective person, both eren and Levi’s gesture and behaviour changes when they are around them. As eren said historia is the girl who saved him and the same way mikasa is the who may bring meaning into Levi’s life. I feel like these two couple has always developed together, take s3 aka rivamika season 🥵

The same way rivamika found trust and a way to bond, so did eren and historia. In their own way they. It’s funny because both of their development are so weirdly ignored by the aot general fandom, gee I wonder why 😒 anyway through these similarities or whatever you may call it you can really see who they each really care for and value over the other.

Lastly

LMAO idk how much people considers pieck and Porco canon as potential lovers but this shot of porco really reminded me of Levi’s jealous look. Not to mention pieck resembled mikasa with that ponytail

Although I support jeanpiku I always had this feeling that porco and pieck might have been shipped together and they are, in this scene ( I haven’t watched the ep) I ASSUME porco is looking at her this way because of these men around looking at her and blushing, well it does resemble another grumpy old man. Anyway I’ll never shut up about that scene with both historia and Levi looking at their partners, jealous and shit 💆‍♀️💅💅💅

Okay I’m done talking for now, thank you again for reading as always idk what this post was tbh I didn’t have it planned at all I just really wanted to talk about these that’s been on mind to spark new conversations about them.

I just wanna say I wish i was part of this fandom sooner, not only does this fandom has the best theorists but also such amazing people. I hope our shitposting and analysis of rivamika will not end with chapter 139. Rivamika will always make me happy and this place will always feel like home, thank you for creating this community 😭💜💜💜💜

[sofwrites]

for the prompt thing; polin + 41

41: sitting close and knees touching | Also my entry for Polin Week Day 3: Modern AU

A modern twist on Penelope finding out about Colin's journals

Themes: angst, yearning, teasing | Length: 2.3k

Read on ao3 or under the cut | masterlist

Thank you for requesting! xx

He hadn’t planned on telling anyone. He really hadn’t planned on anyone seeing them. And he really really hadn’t planned on anyone ever reading them.

The only reason Colin had even started keeping a journal was to remind himself that he was a real person on his travels- that he had the power to leave something permanent on earth. That he wasn’t completely wasting his time flitting from country to country- desperately trying to find some sort of purpose in his life.

Again, he hadn’t planned on anyone seeing them.

But one day he was painstakingly hiding his journals in a deep, hidden corner of his laptop, and the next, Penelope Featherington had found one. She’d found one then read. And somehow, she thought they were good. Actually good. Not I’m-only-saying-this-to-be-nice good.

And, sure, it had all happened by accident, but after some time, Colin was so incredibly thankful that it did.

He’d been hiding out in Eloise’s flat (Anthony had texted about wanting to meet that afternoon because- well, it didn’t matter really. The fact of the matter was that Colin had no desire to do so) when the buzzer rang.

He ignored it and continued to flip through the book in his hand.

But then it rang again. And again.

And on the fourth ring, Colin finally groaned and forced himself off of the sofa.

It was barely a second after his finger had reached the speaker that a loud, rather familiar-sounding shriek rang out. “Eloise!! Eloise! Please tell me you’re there!”

With a snort, Colin cut the voice off and buzzed them in. And in roughly a minute (an impressive feat considering that Eloise lived on the fifth floor), he saw a bouncing bit of red hair through the peephole and opened the door.

“Thank God, I really need-” Penelope froze mid-step in the frame as her eyes traveled up to reach Colin’s face. For a moment, she just stared, her mouth parted open. And then she swallowed and gave a quick shake of the head.

With a slightly forced smile, she nodded and swept past him, looking around as she went towards the sitting room. “Is Eloise in?”

“She’s not,” Colin answered flatly as he casually leaned against the closed door. He kept an impressively blank expression as Penelope haphazardly rifled through Eloise’s desk, roughly blowing a few loose curls out of her face. “Looking for something?”

Penelope either missed or simply ignored the teasing tone as she frantically moved her search to the sofa cushions. “Did she leave her laptop here?”

“Don’t think so. Though I’m not entirely sure- all she told me was to try not to empty her entire fridge.”

Normally, that would have elicited Colin a laugh or an amused smile, but all Penelope did was let out a groan. A groan that bizarrely caused his stomach to flip. He glanced away from her, clearing his throat. ”Erm- but if you need a laptop, I do have mine.”

Penelope looked up at him with such sharpness that it caught him a bit off guard. “You do? Can I borrow it?”

He blinked at her for a moment, but quickly nodded and motioned to his bag near her feet. He’d barely muttered a “Course” before she’d already retrieved and set it on the table.

“Oh, password’s-” Colin balked for a second, his mouth still open. He’d never told anyone his password before, and it felt… Odd. Unnerving to give away such a private piece of information. But Penelope was looking up at him again, eyes huge and slightly feral, antsy fingers hovering over the keys. He rubbed the back of his neck before mumbling, “GregorySux. With an x.”

The tips of Penelope’s fingers froze as the corner of her mouth twitched, but she bit her lip as she looked down to type.

“He kept hacking into it,” Colin said in an attempt to justify himself.

She seemed so focused on the screen that he thought she hadn’t heard him, but, almost absentmindedly, Penelope said, “Don’t think it’s hacking if your password is literally Password.”

He gaped at her. “I can’t believe Eloise told you!”

This time, Penelope just shrugged in response, her attention completely taken away. The only sounds that filled the room were those of her lightning-quick typing.

He stood there for a moment, feeling uncharacteristically awkward as he watched her fingers work. And then he cracked his neck before nodding. “Right, I’ll give you a minute…”

And as he reached Eloise’s toilet, it occurred to Colin he’d never before been alone with Penelope- not really. He’d known the girl for over a decade, but they’d never really been friends. They were friendly and had spent a decent amount of time together, but there’d never been a real closeness, definitely not one where they could spend a casual afternoon hanging out.

But Colin had never had trouble with finding the right words to say, so it shouldn’t be different with Penelope, right?

He’d asked her about work- that was safe. And maybe how her recent trip with Eloise and Frannie had been- also another safe topic. After that, it’d be no trouble.

But when he reentered the hallway, Colin immediately noticed how quiet it had suddenly gotten- the air completely absent of any hasty typing. Silently, he peered inside the sitting room.

Penelope was still hunched over his laptop, her mouth parted slightly as she stared at the screen. The only movement of her hands was to scroll, but her eyes were running across the screen at an inhuman speed. He watched her for a moment, the corner of his mouth rising unconsciously as her lips mouthed a few words.

He felt intrigued.

Not intrigued by her- of course. But rather intrigued by what had entranced her so much that she couldn’t dare peel her eyes from the computer.

She didn’t react as he crept behind her, looking over her shoulder to see the screen. The brightness was a bit lowered, but he could see a Word document. He leaned a bit closer, eyes squinting as he read a random line.

Imagine you’re at a party, feeling weightless and invincible-

Wait- he recognized those words.

Colin’s eyes flew to the title of the page, which very clearly read, Italy, 09/03/19.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Penelope yelped at the sudden noise, turning her head so quickly that her forehead made contact with Colin’s nose.

“OW!”

And that was how it had all started. A frantic Penelope, a trip to the toilet, an accidentally minimized Word document, and a (luckily) not broken nose.

He’d been angry at first… Well, really, he’d been fairly livid about the entire thing. Not because he was necessarily mad at Penelope, who had accidentally opened the tab initially, but rather because he felt… Embarrassed. It was embarrassing having one’s little sister’s best friend accidentally come across their greatest secret.

But even though he wanted to forget and pretend it all had never happened, Penelope had been unrelenting. After an assurance that what she read had been good, she’d practically demanded that he let her read through the rest of his work.

And now, weeks later, here they were sitting next to each other at his kitchen table, two cups of tea and a printed-out version of his journal laid out in front of them.

“What was it you were trying to say here?” Penelope asked, her eyes rolling over a highlighted section of an Australia entry.

He looked down at the page, following where her finger rested. Instantly, he felt himself flush a bit. She was pointing out a particularly convoluted metaphor he’d written, one likening the magnificent sunset to the familiarity of reading one’s favorite childhood book for the first time as an adult.

“Erm…” He cringed, unable to say anything else.

It was still so odd- the not knowing what to say. Colin Bridgerton wasn’t someone who ever had trouble figuring out his words, and yet… And yet having Penelope had that effect on him. Or, more likely, having Penelope inspect his work, dissecting every word that had ever come out of his brain, make him feel insecure in a way he never was.

It wasn’t so much that it was Penelope, of course. She was his sister’s best friend, a woman he’d known since they were barely grown. It would have been like that if anyone else had seen his work, he was sure of it.

But even still- he found himself staring at a rogue curl on her cheek, his hand twitching to reach up and tuck it away.

“Colin?” Penelope interrupted his roaming thoughts, abruptly looking up at him. Her lips pinched together once she saw his expression, pulling themselves down into a small frown. “Colin,” she repeated in a softer voice. “I wasn’t lying when I said you were a fantastic writer. It’s just that everyone needs a little editing- even the best of us.”

His head tilted slightly as he looked at her, suddenly caught on her use of the word, us. “Do you write a lot then?”

Penelope’s lips slowly formed a smile as she looked at him, a hint of hesitation on her face. She sighed, taking a moment. “Well, actually-” But then she cut herself off, suddenly resembling the same shy Penelope he hadn’t seen in years.

Colin found himself leaning in, putting both arms on the table in front of them, desperate to hear the end of whatever she’d wanted to say. He could feel his knee bumping into hers, but neither of them moved. “What?” he prompted, surprised to hear how faint his voice was. There was something about the moment that was making it rather difficult to breathe.

Penelope was looking back at him with an intensity, mouth slightly parted as she licked her lips reflexively. There was nothing inherently seductive about the movement, but- But something about the way her tongue flicked out made Colin’s stomach clench uncomfortably.

“Uhm,” she whispered, only hearing the loud beating of her heart. No one knew about her secret, other than her editor. And it would surely be a disaster if anyone ever found out …

But she had found out about Colin’s secret, albeit by accident. It felt only right that he should know hers as well…

But if she were being truly honest, she didn’t care very much about her secret at that present moment. Not when the two green eyes she had spent her entire adolescence (and much of her early adulthood) pining over were staring directly at her, looking as though they could see through her entire soul.

Every breath was an effort, every movement was the most difficult task in history. The spot where their knees were still gently pressed against each other felt like it was on fire, spreading itself across her body. She’d been in so much shock when the contact had happened that she hadn’t moved away. And then she’d been astonished when he hadn’t either.

Penelope couldn’t even remember what they’d been talking about, and it almost appeared that Colin… That Colin shared the same sentiment.

It felt like she was dreaming. Somehow, he was staring at her with just as much intensity as she was to him. She wasn’t sure if anyone had… She was quite certain that no one had ever looked at her like that.

Colin swallowed as he stared at her, taking in every freckle spread across her nose and every loose curl surrounding her face. He could see her eyes clearly for perhaps the first time in his life- a beautiful shade of warm brown with golden flecks throughout the iris. And then his eyes unwillingly moved, flickering to her lips as she licked them again, causing his gut to wrench painfully.

And then he realized that his hands on the table were so close to her own, the one still resting on his forgotten journal excerpt.

Almost without meaning to, his pinky twitched, moving just enough to meet hers. His breath hitched as he looked back up to meet her gaze.

Neither of them moved, as if moving would break something fragile. As if moving would forcibly tear them from the moment they were.

But then- he wasn’t sure how long- Penelope’s soft eyes left his, darting down to rest on their touching fingers. And then her eyes widened, and her entire body jerked backward, and suddenly Colin’s knee was incredibly cold.

Her chair made a loud scraping noise against the floor as she jumped up, startling him out of the hold he’d been under. “Pen-?”

“It’s getting a bit late,” Penelope muttered through a quick breath, quickly stashing away her belongings. “I’ll finish this at home, and we can meet another time to discuss it. Maybe coffee- next week.”

Colin frowned, getting out of his seat, and taking a few steps towards her. Quietly, he said, “Or you could stay here?”

Penelope froze for a moment before slowly retrieving her keys, gaze firmly locked onto the ground. All he could see were her eyelashes as she blinked.

He bent down slightly and reached out to lift her chin. “Or you could stay here,” he repeated with a bit more reverence in his voice. “We could get some dinner and- talk.”

Penelope swallowed as her eyes rested on his face for a fraction of a moment, but soon enough, she pulled away again. Her fingers trembled as she draped the bag over her shoulder, shaking her head as she looked towards the door. “Erm, no, sorry. I really- really need to go, Colin.”

And then she all but sprinted from the flat, leaving a speechless Colin Bridgerton behind.

[sweetaesuga]

in your heart | first date

pairing: jungkook x female reader

genre: fluff, lil smut, established relationship au, fratboy jk! ex-fuckboy jk! bookworm reader!

warnings: language, mention of smut, jk being in love🥺

word count: 2.3k

synoypsis: jungkook decides to take you on your first date to the carnival.

timeline: takes place right after the events of in your eyes.

↳ masterlist

If someone ever disclosed to you that Jeon Jungkook would be taking you on a date, you'll laugh in their face. It was unimaginable to even believe that. Even standing in front of your mirror and checking your appearance for the tenth time so you looked spotless in his eyes, it still hasn't struck you.

But it does when he shot you a quick text that he's near and be set to emerge. And that's how the sensation in your gut tingled more, merely stumbling your mind on how you have a date with Jungkook, someone you thought you'll never be on one with.

jungkook💓: i'm outside cond out

jungkook💓: come*

You inhaled, brushing off your uneasiness. Making your way outside, you watched Jungkook's lips crane up into a smile from the sight of stunning image of you. You were only wearing a oversized yellow sweatshirt with denim shorts narrowly peeking out from underneath that. His eyes travelled further more towards your face, suddenly stopping once he saw chunks of your hair were missing. Your hair reaching at nearly the end of your shoulders instead of near your stomach, where it long rested for most of the time he's known you. Of course, it wouldn't have been an outfit for you if you didn't feature your yellow pins that held back the sides of your hair or your extravagant makeup, that today was a yellow eyeliner fading into white at the end with drawn daisies enveloped along your cheeks.

"Woah," you couldn't help obtain the smile that was flourishing onto your skin. You stopped in front of his black Mercedes-Benz that his parents gifted him for his eighteenth birthday. "You look incredible, fuck, I can't even think right now," you laughed, opening the door to get in. "I can't believe you cut your hair, oh my god you look so good."

"Thanks, you don't look so bad yourself," you winked at him, tugging your seatbelt across your chest.

"You kidding me? I look like fucking shit compared to you, my god babe, I don't think I'll be able to drive if I can't keep my eyes on the road."

He really couldn't keep his eyes on the road. Sensing his sight on you, you kept advising him to look back onto the road but in spite of everything they always come across of you. He just couldn't shake the image off his head. Your hair was short and you looked so delicate it drove him to want to take you from behind, equal to the way he did it in the fraternity bathroom a week ago. His palms curled tightly around the wheel, bringing back the promise he made to you the following day to take things slow.

But how could he? You looked so pretty seated besides him while humming the words to the song echoing throughout the car. He wanted nothing more than to be in between your legs, pounding into you ruthlessly while he whispered filthy things in your ears only to be met with your sullen whines.

"What rides are you excited for?" your hand laid on his thigh, dangerously close to his crotch. It was almost like you were trying to provoke him, to pull over and take you in the back seat but by the curiosity in your tone he could deduce that those weren't your true intentions.

The one where you ride me, he thought glancing over at you in case some telepathy happened and you were able to hear him. "The one where it spins you around while you're strapped onto the sides."

"Of course you would be excited for that one," you giggled and removed your hand, disregarding Jungkook's breath of relief. "I feel like I'm going to vomit just by thinking about it, let's eat after we go on that one or the person besides me will have my food on them." he nodded, shuddering at the thought that it could be him ending up with food on him.

The drop tower and ferris wheel covered in bright colors with the purpose of standing out and attract residents, came into your sight. The big words of the amusement park’s name laying out in front of you. Jungkook glanced to see your lit up eyes, unable to contain his smile from your reaction.

"I swear, amusement parks bring out another side of you," he laughed, parking the car. You squealed happily, feeling nostalgic about being at one. Unbuckling your seat belt, you jumped out the car and paced over to the gates. Long forgotten, your date ran after you.

"They remind me of us when we were in high school. Gosh, do you remember when you practically forced me to go on the drop tower?" you laughed at the memory of Jungkook, who evidently never took no as an answer, I mean that's how he managed to land a date with you, begged you to come with him. He promised to hold your hand at all times even when waiting in line.  After long nagging and promises to buy you more books from Barnes & Noble, you agreed and you regretted it quickly. Your face was stuffed down a garbage can, throwing up the corn dogs that he treated you earlier.The embarrassment came when you looked up and discovered the people staring at you with compassion. Jungkook was nowhere nearby, perhaps holding your hair back rather he was flirting with a pretty brunette, attempting to receive her number.

"Don't remind me," he winced. He shook his head, getting rid of the memory. "I feel like a fucking asshole just by thinking about it. You didn't even talk to me for the rest of the day, hopefully it doesn't end like that."

His wishes became true. The night mostly consisted of laughter and Jungkook being the best boy ever. First, you went to the carousel. Jumping onto one of the horses while Jungkook took a seat right next to you. Second, you made your way over to the ride Jungkook was so eager to get on. Although it appeared scary to just be standing up and bound onto a wall while it spun, it was incredible. The only sound traveling through your ears was Jungkook’s cackling. Tears were brimming in your eyes by the end of it, not registering how hard you both laughed during all of it. The rest was sort of a blur to you, dragging Jungkook from ride to ride and more laughter.

You even faced the drop tower again. Hand resting against Jungkook's sweaty palm, he cautioned you to not look down to keep you from panicking. You kept your sight in front of you, watching the ferris wheels lights glow. Jungkook paid more attention to his feet hanging in the air, rather than the pretty sight in front of him, kicking them high in the air.You opened your mouth to ask him if he thought it was taking too long but before it could push past your lips, you suddenly drop to the floor at full speed. A horrific scream is let out, you don't even realize it's yours until you come back to your senses. Jungkook yelled out happily, legs kicking frantically while trying to pry his eyes open.

That man was insane.

You still thought that when you stared at him while he ate his hot dog, commenting on the flavor and combination every minute. A little ketchup is left behind near his lips, you reached out to clean it off. He stopped talking about how the bread didn't go with the sausage, eyes focused on you. You smiled at him before turning to look at the children in front of you blowing bubbles into the air while forcing their annoyed father to watch them. Jungkook's gaze is locked on your face, observing you munch on your corn dog.

"I seriously can't get over you with that haircut," he grinned as you whined at him to stop mentioning it. "I can't help it. You just look so pretty. What made you want to cut it anyway?" he took a bite out of his hot dog. His doe eyes gleamed with curiosity.

"I've always wanted to cut my hair short," you admitted, moving your corn dog higher so you wouldn't have to stick it down your throat to eat the rest. "It's just—you mentioned that you've always liked me with my long hair so I never tried cutting it so I could try to somewhat impress you. I was going to cut it a week ago."

Jungkook smiled at you when your cheeks flushed. "I do like you when your hair is long, it reminds me when we first met," he watched as your smile surfaced. "Your hair was fucking long when we met and overtime it kept getting shorter. But I don't care about how you look. You could be bald and I'll still want to be with you. Even though I won't have anything to hold on to when I fuck you, I'll have a plunger—"

"Okay, shut the fuck up you just ruined the mood," you rolled your eyes while Jungkook laughed at his own joke. He finished the last of corn dog. "Come on, let's go ferris wheel."

"Oooooo, are we going to be making out when we get to the top?" he's quick to grasp onto your hand, holding it tightly around his larger one. He's half joking but is serious about it. It's been a week since the frat party and his body was begging to touch you.

"No. I don't kiss on the first date," you smirked and walked in front of him. His eyebrows furrowed. So you weren't giving to fulfill his cravings of being able to feel you again.

"What the fuck do you mean you don't kiss on the first date? But you let me fuck you before the first date so it doesn't really matter."

"Actually it does. Remember what we said?" you glanced behind you to make sure he can hear you. "We said we'll takes things slow."

"I've waited too long," he whined, stomping on his feet and resembled a little child.

You shook your head, lining up to have a turn on the ferris wheel. Jungkook looked down at his feet, playing with the little pebbles. "Aren't you cold?" his sight on your exhibited legs, remembering how they looked spread out for him. "You should've worn some sweatpants or something that doesn't leave you freezing."

His concern over you being cold only expanded your smile even more. "I'm fine, Jungkook," he frowned at your response but kept nagging you about how you should've put something more comfortable on. "It is, they're extra stretchable," you moved along the line.

"They must be, for them to fit around your ass," you squealed when he pinched your butt. He earned a glare from the lady behind you but his attention was solely on you. You batted his hands away before giving him a warning to keep his hands to himself. You move forward leaving Jungkook behind. He called out your name and you turned around. He's pointing to the height requirement sign with a huge arrow where all passengers must stand at. "I don't think your short ass can get on," he joked. You sent him the middle finger, facing forward.

You remained like that until you were hopping onto one of the passenger car, Jungkook following close behind. His shoulder pressed up against yours as he pulled you closer. The two of you moved up, waiting for other people to get on before it could actually could commence.

Jungkook rocked the car back and forth slightly. You whined and slapped his chest but he only laughed at you and continued doing so. "Stop doing that, you know I'm not good with heights," you both looked out of the car, watching the lights from the amusement park light up.

The ferris wheel began moving, taking you back slightly. The neon colors popping out in the dark. The children holding their glow sticks and other toys that lit up can be seen from where you're seated. Jungkook pulled out his phone, aiming it towards it all.You squealed and hid your face when his camera travelled over to you. His laughter was enveloping your hearing and you felt like the teenager all again who had a fat crush on him and just enjoyed spending time with him.

He put his phone away, telling you he'll stop taking pictures. Peeking out from behind your hands, you saw that he's already smiling at you. "I can't fucking believe I managed to win you over," there's a huge lump on his throat but he forced his words out anyway. "I swear to god I won't fuck this up. I really want to be with you and I'm so sorry for not reciprocating your feelings earlier, it would've saved us a lot of time."

"Shh," the cart finally stopped at the top. "We have all the time in the world now. It's okay, we're okay now." Jungkook stared down at you, begging on the inside for a kiss. The timing was perfect, you were at the top, it would be like a perfect romantic first date story when he tells his family and friends about it.

You leaned forward to meet his lips, hand gripping onto the back of his nape. His lips moved furiously against yours, the car beginning to move once again. He pulled away, mind coming down from the blissful state he was in. Jungkook stared into your eyes before breaking out into a smile. He wondered if it's a dream, if he'll wake up from it anytime now and go back to just being your friend.

It really wasn't however, you were finally in his arms.

a/n: the only reason why i wrote in your eyes is so i can create a drabble series of the couple so i’m happy that i’m finally doing it🤧

[honeycobie]

Ephemeral

part of the round the world tbz collab held by @ukiyoexo​ and @juyeonzz​

[teaser]

» pairing: sangyeon x reader 

» genre: fluff/angst, time travel au, historical au

» word count: 16.2k 

» a/n: uh hello...i’m back momentarily to post this fic that i put my blood, sweat and tears into and then i’m gonna disappear again :D i wrote on a google docs first and i wrote 36 pages ;;; yeah, i went overboard. anyways, hope y’all enjoy this! pls don’t flop or else i’ll cry because i spent so much time perfecting it and i’m still doubting my writing skills. goodbye for now (don’t worry, the angst isn’t that sad)!

» disclaimer:  the characters may be based on real-life historical figures but they are not real and are portrayed as needed for plot purposes. although i have done some extra research on the joseon dynasty, i do not have much knowledge on this topic so please excuse any mistakes on the history/events. 

» now playing: i swear i’ll never leave again by keshi

» round the world masterlist please please please check out all the other fics! they are all *chef’s kith* 

You step out into the sunshine, smiling brightly as you inhale deeply. “Doesn’t the air smell different here, too?” you ask, your suitcase trailing behind you. 

Your friend gives you a weird look. “Yeah, pollution,” she remarks sarcastically, sliding on a pair of sunglasses.

Ignoring her, you tilt your head to admire the bustling city of Seoul and the cloudless, vast sky. The pleasant weather felt like the city was welcoming you warmly with open arms.

“I’m so excited to visit all the tourist spots in Korea!” you exclaim, already running through the mental checklist of things you wanted to do.

“I can’t believe you made me come with you,” she begins, glancing at you grumpily. “I’m sure you could’ve survived on your own.”

“I know you’re looking forward to it too and besides there might be some cute boys around here,” you laugh, nudging her playfully in the ribs as you squint, looking around for any building that might resemble the hotel you were supposed to be staying at.

Your friend can’t help but smile at how enthusiastic you are, her mood brightening after a long flight. “Which hotel did you book?” she asks, slowing down her pace to peer at your phone.

“Four Seasons Hotel,” you respond, showing her the map. “I don’t see it though? It should be this street.” you furrow your eyebrows, confused as you try to navigate through the busy crowd of Seoul.

Groaning, she snatches your phone out of your hands, giving you a pointed look. “You’ve never been good with directions.” she chides, examining the map carefully.

Pouting, you don’t reply, turning your gaze to the towering skyscrapers and buildings of the city, the sunlight glinting off of glass, rendering it so blinding that you had to avert your eyes. The streets and sidewalk were busy, bustling with people and cars with their own destination. You take in another deep breath before your face screws up, feeling a cough rise in your throat, hacking when exhaust from the nearest car hits you. 

She was right, it did smell like pollution but there was something about Seoul, the way the city was teeming with life, swarming with both people and vehicles, making it special, different from any other big city. Time seemed to fly fast here, a blink of an eye and hours had already passed but at the same time, it slowed down when you took your time to take in your surroundings, to take a deep breath to ground yourself.

You jolt back into attention when your friend calls your name. “We should’ve made a turn on a street before. I take back my previous statement. You wouldn’t be able to survive here without me.” she grumbled, exasperation written all over her face.

Grinning, you hook your arm through hers, halting in the middle of the sidewalk. “And this is why I love you.” you coo, batting your eyelashes at her.

Shrugging off your arm, she feigns disgust, speeding up her pace so she was well ahead of you. “You can pay me back by treating me to dinner,” she calls, smiling cheekily.

You dash after her, your suitcase bumping wildly on the concrete of the sidewalk.“Wait a minute-” you start to argue with her, trying to negotiate as you know how much she could eat. That girl could eat a whole buffet if she set her mind on it. She just waves you off dismissively, ignoring your pleas as she hums to herself as if you weren’t next to her. 

»»————-　　————-««

Letting out a sigh, you shrug off your bag, flopping on the couch in your hotel room after indulging in delicious Korean cuisine. Staring at the ceiling, you shift into a comfortable position, closing your eyes as you were starting to feel sluggish, your limbs heavy and you had to fight to keep your eyes open. 

The moment you gave into the insistent pull of sleep, you were promptly interrupted by a pillow pelting  your side with a soft thump. Stretching languorously, you sit up, blinking the drowsiness away.

Sitting on the bed across from you, your friend scowls at you. “Don’t we have somewhere to go this evening? I remember you blabbering in my ear the entire time at the restaurant.”

Eyes widening, you sit up, your sleepiness vanishing in a flash. “Right! We’re visiting Gyeongbokgung Palace! It was the main imperial palace of the Joseon Dynasty.”

“You read up on it, huh?” she teases, giving you a cocky smirk.

Gasping, you place a hand on your chest, offended. “I did not! I’m just smart!” you retort. Okay, maybe you did but for the sake of your pride and dignity, a white lie wouldn’t hurt, right? 

“Just admit it, nerd.” she scoffs, jabbing you in the side. She knew you too well, seeing through the lie that only served as a flimsy barrier from the truth. 

Swatting her hand away, you stick your tongue out. “On that topic, we’ll be following a tour guide so we’ll be in a group with other tourists.” you utter, reclining back, your arms behind your head.

“What the hell? Why can’t we just explore on our own? What’s the fun in following a tour guide when we can be adventurous and spontaneous? It’s a vacation for god’s sake.” she complains, shaking her head disapprovingly.

“Being too adventurous and spontaneous can result in us getting lost. Besides, it’s not like we know our way around Seoul. We’re just tourists too.” you remind her, rolling on your stomach so you could look her in the eye.

"You just had to go in the evening. If we went in broad daylight, I bet we wouldn't get lost. Who would even go for the nighttime viewing?" she whines, burying her face in the duvet.

“It’s only for an hour or so. Just suck it up. Besides, the palace will look even more stunning at night.” you reassure, rolling your eyes at the dramatic display she was putting on.

“Fine. What time is the tour?” she queried, giving up.

“It’s at 8 pm but we can always arrive early,” you state, smiling triumphantly. “It’ll be a good opportunity to take some photos,” you add, knowing that she loves photography, 

She perks up the moment you mention photos but she swiftly erases her excitement, replacing it with a facade of indifference. “Whatever.” she huffs, turning her back on you as she scrolls through social media.

You scoff, shaking your head,  knowing that you had piqued her interest before standing up, shuffling to the bathroom to start getting ready.

»»————-　　————-««

Passing through the main gate encircling the perimeter of the palace, you slow your pace to admire the architecture. You reach out to cautiously brush your fingertips over the dark crimson doors, marvelling at how gigantic they are. 

You refrain from peeking through the arched entrance as you wanted to see the grandeur of the palace when you arrived at the foot of the steps. Brushing your hand against the rough granite of the foundation, you try to picture the king and royal officials passing through the gate.

For some reason, you were holding your breath as you passed through the archway. Your gaze drifting upwards, your jaw drops at the sight of the palace in front of you as you take in the sheer beauty of it. Although you had seen pictures of the palace online, it barely did it justice as it looked even more majestic in real life.

A wide, paved path leads up to the stairs towards the palace and you notice the elegantly sloped roofs and intricate details with lotus flowers and characters carved into the wood. The use of vibrant green and red draws your eyes and although you would expect the colours to clash, they complement each other, creating a strangely soothing effect.

The evening sky adds to the etherealness of it all, the full moon glowing, shining on the path as a crisp breeze lifts your hair, stirring it into motion. 

Your friend strolls beside you, equally in awe, her eyes sparkling with amazement as she examines the palace. "Where are we waiting for the tourist group?" she questions, both hands gripping tightly on the straps of her backpack.

You suppress a sigh at the scornful tone of her voice, bitterness dripping as she purposefully put emphasis on the two words, “tourist group”. 

“Just at the entrance of the palace,” you reply, leafing through the pamphlet that was handed out amongst the crowd that mingled around the gate. 

There was a map on the back of the brochure and your eyes sparkled as you examined it. It could give you the opportunity to slip away and admire the palace as long as you desired without fearing that you'd get lost.

You and your friend look around for the tour guide, scanning the crowd for any sight of someone who might resemble one. Spotting the tour guide carrying a sign with the name of the company, you nudge your friend before dragging her towards the group. 

Huffing, she hefts her camera, adjusting the strap. You smile giddily to yourself, skipping like a child and you banished all the negative thoughts, allowing yourself to lower your guard, to forget that you were a mere tourist travelling in a foreign city with unknown dangers. Nothing could go wrong, right?

Of course everything had to go completely wrong.

»»————-　　————-««

First, you had bumped into a fellow tourist, causing you to fall gracelessly, landing on your backside, the pamphlet fluttering into a puddle of murky water as you hastily apologized.

To your utter dismay, the ink started to fade, washed away from the water and rendered the map useless. You could hardly interpret it so you didn't bother to pick it up. You ignored your friend's snickering as you accepted her helping hand.

Well, time to say goodbye to your plans to explore on your own. 

As if pushing your luck, you were now lost. You fought down the rising panic and racked your brain, trying to come up with solutions. Even worse, your phone was dead. You swore fate hated you, always wanting to tamper with your plans.

You squeezed through the crowd, aiming for the gaps in between to slip through,  squeaking out an apology when you accidentally step on someone's foot. Squinting, you peer for any sight of your friend as you hold your bag nervously, hands squeezing the strap. 

You stop at the end of the hallway, eyes shifting from the different corridors that open up from the end of it. You rock back and forth on the balls of your feet as you contemplate, chewing on the inside of your cheek. 

Left or right?

As if answering your question, the corridor to your right glowed brighter underneath the moonlight and you gaped, rubbing at your eyes, convinced that you were seeing things. You blinked a couple of times but it only seemed to make the walls of the corridor brighten, washing the walls in shimmering tones of silver and pewter. Despite your instincts screaming at you to walk down the corridor, you were reluctant, feeling foolish to follow your gut instincts and making a decision based on it when you ought to have analyzed thoroughly. Shrugging, you started down the path, eyes drifting on the walls, reaching out to aimlessly drag your fingers against the wall, rough plaster and concrete scraping against skin as you marvel at how it practically shines underneath the moon. 

Too busy admiring the architecture, you don’t notice the steps a few steps away until your foot comes in contact with space where the floor should’ve been. Eyes widening, you find yourself tripping, letting out a gasp into the silence as you screw your eyes shut.

Red floods your vision as the pain comes. It was worse than any other injury, sharp aches throbbing in your skull as you hit your head against the concrete. You open your eyes, attempting to sit up but stop as your vision starts to swim, black dots invading your vision as your head sways, only intensifying the pain. You hiss, closing your eyes and slowly counting to ten, trying to tamp down the panic and bile that rose in your throat. 

It’s no use, the panic rising and swallowing you whole as you feel your consciousness fading. The last thing you remember is the blurry visage of the corridor brightening, causing you to squint to shield your eyes.

»»————-　　————-««

Regaining consciousness, you sit up quickly, regretting it as your vision swims, blurring everything momentarily. You close your eyes, grimacing when a dull ache throbs in the back of your head. 

Right...you had lost footing and missed several steps, slamming your head on the concrete. You sigh as the memory surfaces and you press your hand against your hand gently, screwing your face up when it feels tender and sore to the touch. 

Eyes fluttering open, you're met with an unfamiliar room. Your brow furrowing, you observe your surroundings with keen eyes.

The room was fashioned from dark oak, with sliding doors made from white paper, sheer enough to see shadows moving from outside, but still providing enough privacy. Candles flickered jovially on the low tables and judging from the absence of natural light, you guessed that it was currently nighttime. Looking down, your eyes travelled the length of the pallet you were sitting on, noting the intricate embroideries curving through it. You reached out and gingerly ran your fingers against it. Judging from the material and the delicate ornamentations, it was probably very expensive. 

“My lady…you’re awake!” 

A rejoiced voice grabs your attention and you turn slowly to meet the owner of it. A girl, around your age kneels at your bed and sets down the bucket of water, dousing a clean cloth in it. You blink in confusion, realizing that she was wearing a hanbok, the traditional clothing of historical Korea. You exhaled softly, tense shoulders relaxing as you inferred that you were in one of the residences near the palace, where you were able to rent a hanbok and experience how ancient Korea used to be. The girl gently wipes the wound on the back of your head before undoing the gauzes, replacing it with new ones. 

“My lady, you mustn’t be so reckless while riding a horse.” she scolds lightly, shaking her head. 

“E-excuse me?” 

You didn’t remember anything about a horse. Momentarily, you wondered why the girl was being so formal with you before your thoughts started to wander. Toning out the girl’s rambling, you stared emptily at the nearest candle, flickering and jumping like it had a life of its own. 

Catching a section of her sentence, you come back to your senses. “Could you repeat that, please?”

“Arranged marriage with the eldest son of King Sejong?” she repeats, brow creasing in concern. “Are you alright, my lady?”

“King Sejong?” you laughed hysterically, convinced that you had hit your head so hard that you were seeing and hearing things. “What is this? Joseon Dynasty?”

“Precisely, my lady.” she responded, concern creeping onto her features. 

“You’re awfully good at acting. Hollywood should recruit you.” you mumble, flopping back on the pallet with a groan, eyes tracing the wooden arches and pattern of the ceiling. 

“Hollywood..? I don’t think I understand, my lady.” 

Sighing, you sit back up, eyes heavy with fatigue. You were tired of arguing with her so you decided to play along. “Ok then, where am I right now?” 

“It is 1437 in Joseon, during the reign of King Sejong.”

You scoffed, disbelief written all over your face. “There’s no way.” Regardless, you stumble to your feet, ignoring the girl’s feeble attempt at stopping you. Stopping in front of the window, you eye the wooden shades before unlatching them. 

Expecting the soaring skyscrapers and buildings as well as milling groups of tourists and busy traffic in the streets, your heart almost stops when you see a rustic village, with people leading around horses, resembling nothing of Seoul. Seoul was a city of metal and glass, of advanced technology and modern inventions, yet here, the midnight sky was clear of dust and smoke and you swore you could see every star in the Milky Way.

Stout buildings made up this village, mainly made of wood and brick and the well-trodden dirt path was dimly lit by torches. It was quiet outside, with few people still wandering the streets, you assumed they were all inside, based on the amount of well-lit houses. Gradually, you realized that they were all wearing the traditional garment of historical Korea and although you frantically surveyed the landscape, your eyes scanning every single nook and cranny of the town, everything still remained unfamiliar and foreign.

Leaning forward, you feel the wind whisper its secrets in your ear. “There’s no way.” you whisper to yourself, dragging a hand down your face as you shut your eyes, hoping that this strange world would disappear, replaced by the comforting familiarity of Seoul.

It was not possible to travel back in time...right?

»»————-　　————-««

Numbly, you sit and let Eun-ji, the girl who was apparently your handmaiden, brush your hair. The wooden brush was methodically soothing against your scalp, but did nothing for your frazzled nerves. From listening to Eun-ji, you were Lady (Y/n), supposedly the daughter of a noble family in the Joseon Dynasty, about 6 centuries before your time. 

Blankly, you stare at the wall in front of you. As the only daughter of the family, you were supposed to be married off to a rich man to improve your family’s reputation and financial standing, proving how corrupt society was. 

However, your husband-to-be was the crown prince, which was a rare occurrence. You supposed that you were lucky, but you suspected that the prince was just another posh and spoiled jerk who was accustomed to the leisurely and luxurious ways of life. 

“Say...I can’t avoid the wedding right?” you chirp with false positivity, dislodging the brush from your hair as you turn around to stare at Eun-ji with hopeful eyes.

“A-absolutely not! My lady, this is unavoidable! Your father already agreed and gave out the dowry.” she stuttered, appalled at your question.

“Besides, you’re lucky to marry the crown prince! He’s really handsome, courageous and respectful. I heard a servant girl once fainted after seeing him smile at her.” Eun-ji gossips dreamily, clasping her hands together.

You shook your head. Of course the crown prince would act like that in public. How else would he work his propaganda and trick everyone into supporting him? You drift off, toning out the girl’s wistful fantasizing, anxious over the fact that you had travelled back in time, which shouldn’t be physically possible. With basically no experience or knowledge on the Joseon Dynasty, you doubted you’d be able to survive a second without getting tricked or lured into danger. Tuning back into the one-sided conversation, you manage to catch the last bit of Eun-ji’s sentence. 

“...travelling to the imperial palace tomorrow.”

Travelling to where now? 

“Everyone is so busy preparing tomorrow’s trip. We’re so excited that you’re getting married! And to royalty at that! Don’t worry, my lady, I’ll be accompanying you!” she declares, grinning sunnily at you, either purposely ignoring your apparent concern or she just didn’t notice.

You reluctantly recline back in your seat, shoulders screaming with how tense your muscles were, allowing Eun-ji to continue to brush and detangle your hair, trying to digest all the information your poor brain was just told. You wouldn’t be surprised if a war started next morning, with how bad your luck currently was. 

Closing your eyes, you channel all your strength into resisting the urge to punch a wall and let out a string of curses. Not only was it deemed un-ladylike, possibly earning you the disappointment of your parents, it could potentially draw suspicion and unwanted attention.

All you could do for now was to go along with flow and figure out an escape later, when you had milked all the answers and surprises out of Joseon.

»»————-　　————-««

You throw the windows open, frowning when you are met with the sight of ominous gray clouds gathering. It was as if the heavens themselves knew there was something wrong. You squint, trying to find any hint of the sun hidden behind the clouds, but to your dismay, it was dark and dismal, reflecting your mood. 

You wave away the maid hovering nearby, silently commanding her to give you some personal space. The moment you hear her light steps recede, you slouch, pulling a face. Today was the day you would be entering the palace, and a couple of days later, your marriage into the imperial family. 

You swallow thickly, gripping the material of your night robes nervously. You eyed the distance down from the window, wondering if you could jump down without breaking an ankle and run away from all your problems. Before you could seriously contemplate it, footsteps alert you of another’s presence and you hurriedly straighten your back, pulling your shoulders back into what you hoped was a confident and elegant poise. 

You turn around, meeting the gaze of your supposed mother. Although you felt uneasy addressing her as such, you felt comfort knowing that there was an older figure who could guide you and give advice.

“How are you feeling?” she asks quietly, standing close enough for her arm to brush against yours. You stiffen, making sure to give off an air of confidence. “I am feeling fine. After all, it is my job to bring honour to our family.” you replied, flashing a smile that weakens when she doesn’t return it, instead staring back at you with wise eyes. 

“(Y/n).” 

You tense, before giving a smile so forced, it felt like your lips were stretched too far. “Don’t worry, mother.” The word “mother” felt bitter on your tongue. It felt wrong to address this woman as your mother, even if she had similar qualities to your mom in your time.

The woman hesitated slightly before nodding curtly. “Then, you should start getting prepared.” She turned away, gesturing to the servants who were waiting with countless trays of jewelry and garments as well as combs and cosmetic products. 

Your mother’s trusted lady-in-waiting approaches you, an older woman with graying hair at her temples and lines around her eyes, tilting your chin up, frowning at your eye bags and dark circles. You offer a meek smile when she tsks, barking out orders to the waiting servants. They hustle around you, reminding you of bees buzzing busily around a blooming flower. Several girls work silently on coaxing your hair into an intricate updo while the rest observe your face and prepare the clothes and accessories. 

You sneeze when the lady-in-waiting pats powder on your face, earning another disapproving look. You slouch, letting them do whatever they want. The moment your hair and features are perfectly done, you’re dragged behind a screen as they strip you, folding your night robes neatly as they work to squeeze you into a lovely garment, shimmering silk of vivid amber and vermillion, plain yet exquisite, seen from the expertly sewn hems and edges and the gorgeous material. 

Squeaking, you straighten hurriedly as the lady-in-waiting tugs sharply on the ribbon, tying it into a delicate bow at the back. A mirror is thrust into your face and you hesitate slightly before taking it. Gasping, you peer at your reflection. You hardly recognized yourself, exuding an air of grace and elegance, your hair swept up as your features were flawlessly accentuated and the bold colours of your clothing brought out the life in your eyes and the ruby-red of your lips. You stare at your reflection, not missing the lady-in-waiting’s smug smirk as she dabs rose water on the sides of your neck.

They push you out the doors of your chamber and you stumble unceremoniously before regaining your balance. Outside, your mother awaits you, tears filling her pretty eyes as she takes you in, pride and affection lighting up her face. Stepping forward, she grabs your hands, tears slowly falling down and automatically, you brush them off with feather-light touches. 

“Are you ready?” she whispers, squeezing your hands. Your features soften when you notice the genuine concern in her eyes. You nod, smiling tenderly. Your father approaches you, a heavy hand falling on your shoulder. Although he seems indifferent, you can decipher love and satisfaction in his midnight-black eyes. Awkwardly, he pulls you into an embrace and you choke back a laugh, tears filling your own eyes. Even if they weren’t your parents, past (Y/n) was lucky to have them. 

“Bring honour to our family, (Y/n).” His thunderous voice rumbles through you and you sense the vulnerability in his tone before he pulls away, the proud smile on his face making your heart soar. 

Raising your chin, you match his smile with yours. “I will.”

»»————-　　————-««

You wait in the palanquin, your hands clenching the exquisite silk of your garment anxiously. Hearing giggling, you lift the screen obscuring the small window to your right, peering out into the sunshine.

"Do you think she'll survive in the palace?"

"I know she's not going to. Have you seen her? I bet she can’t even last a few days in the palace without embarrassing herself.” The taller girl sneers, lips curling in contempt.

You watch as the girls titter elegantly behind their fans, your anger simmering as your grasp tightens, knuckles whitening. Lifting your chin proudly, you vow to prove them wrong.

»»————-　　————-««

“Are you not excited to see your bride-to-be, Sangyeon?” 

The crown prince turns to see his brother smirking slyly at him, his gaze implying. “Don’t be immature, Sejo,” he replied rigidly, fixing his gaze on the horizon, jaw tense. 

“I heard she’s quite a pretty thing. I wouldn’t mind having her by my side.” Sejo continues,  inspecting the scenery nonchalantly. 

“Stop referring to her like she’s a plaything. Besides, you know there’s still Hwi-bin.” Sangyeon sighs, not even looking at his brother as he adjusts his robes carefully, palms smoothing over the navy silk and the slight scratchiness of the gold embroidered on it. 

Sejo rolls his eyes at the mention of Hwi-bin. “There are plenty of gorgeous and noblewomen clamouring to be with you, yet you’re still captivated by her.”

“I am not you. I am interested in having a stable and mutually loving relationship. After all, I am not the one going to pleasure houses in Hanseong.” Sangyeon retorts, and although he sounds aggravated, his eyes twinkle with amusement. 

A chuckle escapes from him when he hears Sejo mutter "boring" underneath his breath.

In response, his brother scoffs but a smile plays on his lips. Turning his gaze to observe the scenery, he becomes solemn, the smile disappearing. “You’re going to have to break things off with Hwi-bin, brother.” 

At the change of topic, Sangyeon groans, throwing back his head. "It's not as easy as it sounds." 

"You're going to have to do it, for the future of our country." Sejo reprimanded, uncharacteristically serious, unsettling the prince. 

“Now you’re starting to sound like father,” Sangyeon grumbled, massaging his temples with his fingers. Lately, he hadn’t been able to sleep well, evident by the dark circles under his eyes and his sunken cheeks. The lack of sleep clearly didn’t do wonders for the recurring migraines he had everyday, and all he wanted was to get the marriage over with, if only to stop his parents’ nagging. 

Sejo sighed dramatically, already opening his mouth to yap away but Sangyeon turned away, squinting into the horizon, seeing a palanquin in the distance, the tiny tassels dancing as the platform swayed rhythmically, the family crest held up proudly.

Squaring his shoulders, he inhaled sharply before vaulting himself on the horse, who nickered softly in greeting as the male stroked its nose. “They’re here.”

»»————-　　————-««

Hearing the door slide open, you turn around, seeing Sangyeon in the doorway.

You bow deeply, averting your gaze respectfully. Only when he acknowledges your presence do you straighten, the silk of your hanbok rustling softly. The journey here was nothing remarkable, and although you thought the riches of your home was extravagant enough, the furniture of the imperial palace was outrageously lavish, your home paling in comparison. You inch away from the jade vase you were gaping at previously, terrified of shattering it.

"What are you here for, Your Excellency?" you ask politely, your gaze settling on him.

"My father has commanded me to show you around Hanseong. He hopes for you to see the glory and learn the ways of the imperial city." the crown prince states, his voice void of any emotion as he studies you, his eyes narrowed slightly. 

Hesitating, you nod, giving him a tiny smile. "I would love to."

"I shall call for a palanquin then," Sangyeon responds and although he turns away, you can see the flash of distaste on his face. When he steps towards the exit to leave, you call out, causing him to stop.

 What is it, Lady (Y/n)?" he turns around, raising an eyebrow.

You wince at the way he addresses you so formally. Although it served as a form of respect, it felt foreign and it made him feel even more distant.

"Is it alright if we could go by horse?" you dare to ask, anticipating his answer. After suffering through the whole journey to the imperial palace in such a suffocating space, you were determined to never experience it again.

When you notice the blank look on his face, you shake your head quickly. "Pretend I didn't say anything, Your Excellency." you hastily add, lowering your gaze. 

Sangyeon's lips part slightly as he considers. He has to admit; he was pleasantly shocked by your request. Many distinguished ladies such as yourself were quite comfortable inside a palanquin, shielded from the world and its dangers.

He preferred experiencing things first-hand, on the back of a horse, racing through golden fields of wheat and feeling the wind tousle his hair. It provided a sense of freedom before he returned to the restraining imperial palace. Sangyeon hated travelling in a palanquin as it reminded him of his royal status and how it prompted others to treat him differently.

"Of course. We will leave at dusk then," he says stiffly, before proceeding to leave, the dark lacquered floorboards creaking slightly under his footsteps. Raising your head, you watch his figure disappear from your sight, a relieved sigh escaping your lips.

Unbeknownst to you, his lips curl into a small smile.

Perhaps you weren't as dreadful as he thought.

»»————-　　————-««

Just as planned, you found Sangyeon waiting with two horses outside the gate, his sharp jawline accentuated by the coral rays of the setting sun. He didn’t notice you, his eyes trained on something you couldn’t see. Slowing your pace, you drag your feet in the soft mud, wondering if it was a mistake to refuse the offer of a palanquin. After all, you weren’t well accustomed with horses. You envisioned yourself falling off the horse mid-journey and shuddered, not eager to have a repeat of an incident. Clenching your jaw in determination, you told yourself that you were doing this to prove to the prince that you were different. Marching towards him briskly, you greeted him with a bow, with which he acknowledged stiffly. 

Sangyeon chuckled softly, seeing you stare doubtfully at the horse, offering his hand which you gratefully accepted. Hoisting you onto your stead, you struggled to regain balance for a few seconds, your heart hammering against your ribs. As if sensing your uncertainty, the horse snorts, tossing its head and you yelp, gripping the reins tightly, only causing the horse to angrily neigh, becoming even more restless.

“Relax, you’re only throwing the horse off.” he utters, seating himself on his stead with an easy air that came with constant practice. 

“I know that.” you shoot back, daring a glance at the prince. Sangyeon seems surprised at first, eyebrows arched in question, then laughing heartily, startling you. It was the first time you had seen him expressing mirth, instead of his usual intimidating stoic expression.

Before you can ride off, a shout is heard from behind you. Turning around in the saddle, you notice a guard dashing towards you, sweat matting his hair. “Your Excellency, you can’t just run off like that. Your Majesty has assigned me to assist you and Lady (Y/n).”

Sangyeon waves him off dismissively. “We don’t need a guard. But if it comes to it, I can protect us both.” At that, he pulls back his robe, revealing a lethal-looking dagger sheathed at his hip.

The guard opens his mouth, attempting to protest but Sangyeon gives him a stern look. “That’s an order.” You watch on quietly as the guard sullenly walks back at the prince’s words. Sangyeon turns his horse back around with a slight tug of the reins. “Let’s get going. It’s ideal to be back before nightfall.” 

You nod, tugging lightly on your reins. “Try to keep up.” he snickers, displaying an uncharacteristically playful and teasing side. You gasp, offended. Sure, you didn’t have much experience with horses, especially compared to him but you were certain you’d be able to pick it up quickly.

 “I am fully capable of keeping up, Your Excellency” you retorted, your pride stinging slightly. 

“We’ll see.” Sangyeon gives you a boyish smirk as he nudges at his horse’s flanks, settling into a steady pace.

»»————-　　————-««

It’s quiet in the forest and you are aware of the tense silence that hangs between you and Sangyeon. Clearing your throat, you start to think of conversation starters, desperate to try and befriend the prince. It would be better to make friends and allies instead of foes. Before you can speak, Sangeon beats you to it. 

“Just so you know, the marriage is tomorrow.”

You gape, clenching the reins so hard, your stead whinnies in protest. Relaxing your grip in apology, you turn to face Sangyeon. “So soon?” 

He nods, clearly dissatisfied. “It’s always best to marry young and my father is convinced it will help establish my power to prevent a coup d'état.”

You don’t respond, your body swaying to the rhythmic trotting of the horse. 

“You might not be aware, but I…” Sangyeon hesitates, struggling to find the correct words. You watch him curiously, waiting patiently for him to continue. 

“I already have a lover.” he continues, “unfortunately, you will not be getting the marriage you dreamed of, Lady (Y/n).”

You secretly celebrate in your mind, glad that the male felt the same way. Being forced into an arranged marriage to establish power and reputation was not something you had thought would happen anytime, yet it had happened anyway. You had miserably hoped that this feeling wasn’t one-sided and it seemed like the gods granted you this wish. 

“First of all, please drop the formalities. Just call me (Y/n).” you instruct, and amused, Sangyeon agrees and requests of you to do the same. If you were to be stuck in a marriage with him, you might as well seek out more information and become good friends. 

“Second, you don’t need to worry. I’m not exactly pleased to be in an arranged marriage, even if it’s with royalty, so I don’t care if you have another lover.” you laugh, and Sangyeon’s worry melts away, replaced by an easy smile.

“Thank god.” he mutters under his breath, clearly relieved. For some reason, you find it hilarious, bursting into uncontrollable laughter which he eventually joins in. With tears in your eyes, you catch your breath before getting thrown into another bout of laughter by his little dance of victory. Calming down, you turn to Sangyeon who was smiling brightly, admiring the way the dying sunlight reflected on his hair and danced in his eyes. He looked lively and carefree, with his rosy cheeks and tousled hair and you were sure you would’ve fallen in love with him if you had met him in your time. Alas, it was the wrong person and wrong time. 

“How about this?” you speak up, and he perks up at your question, eager to please. 

“I think we should be friends.” you beam at him, experiencing the most joy and freedom since arriving in Joseon. Screw arranged marriages, no one should get to decide who you marry and who you don’t! 

Sangyeon tilts his head, pretending to contemplate your offer before nudging his horse in your direction, pulling closer to you. Reaching out, he extends his hand, eyes twinkling with mischief and mirth.

Grinning, you accept it, shaking hands firmly. “Deal.”

»»————-　　————-««

A day later, you sit on the bed, itching to take off all the silk garments that were bound tightly against your body, suffocating you. The marriage flew by in a blur and all you could remember was watching Sangyeon ascend the steps, his regal face solemn and void of any emotion. When his gaze had connected with yours, his lips had quirked up slightly, as if reassuring you that it would be alright, before masked with seriousness once again. 

Shaking your head, laughter bubbles out your throat. Out of all the things you thought would happen in the past, getting married wasn’t anywhere in the list. At least, you could boast that you had gotten married first out of all your friends, although you doubted they would believe you.

Humming softly, you listened to the sound of the night; cicadas and crickets chirping and you could hear the distant sound of a bubbling creek. Nothing like the busy city of present-day Seoul, you mused. While fiddling with your fingers, nature’s melodies lull you into a sense of peace and you sigh softly, too much time on your hands. Then, it struck you. It was the wedding night.

Disgusted, you banished the horrifying thoughts before you looked around for something to defend yourself with, just in case. Silver blades gleam in the candlelight and you catch a glimpse of your scowling face as you reach out to grab the scissors. Although Sangyeon didn’t seem like it, if he tried to take advantage of you, he’d have multiple nasty stab wounds that you hoped to avoid inflicting. 

Speak of the devil.

The doors slide open, revealing Sangyeon, his cheeks flushed pink from the cold air, as well as a few drinks, you suspected. You watch him warily, like a lioness stalking its prey. He shrugs off the ceremonial robes, revealing the plain garment underneath. Finishing, he turns towards you, raising an eyebrow. “Are you going to sleep like that?” he questions, gesturing to the extravagant wedding hanbok. 

Smoothing over the creases in the silk, you trace the embroidered peonies on the crimson material. You shake your head, wincing when you feel the heavy headpiece shift, yanking at your hair. Although it was gorgeous, the material was restricting and weighted, with a ridiculous amount of layers, hindering your movements. Standing, you silently untie the bow, letting the silk pool around your waist as you work to take off the headpiece and release your hair from its torture. Sangyeon takes it and carefully places it on the table as you fold the ceremonial garment neatly, leaving it next to the ornamental headpiece. 

Standing in your night robe, you and Sangyeon stare at each other, his gaze flicking down to the scissors in your hand and understanding floods his face. When you don’t move, he sits on the pallet before reclining back. “I’m not going to do anything, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Sangyeon says softly, eyes trained on your face. 

When you relax, he grins, the atmosphere becoming more light-hearted. “Do I really seem like that type of person?” he continues, scrunching his nose as he gave you a look of mock hurt that you ignored.

You place down the scissors before gracelessly flopping on the bed, jostling Sangyeon, causing him to yelp. You close your eyes, fatigue overcoming you. “Goodnight” you mumble, yawning widely as you turn on your side, making sure to keep a safe distance. 

When he doesn’t respond, you shift to face him, stifling laughter when you realize that he was already fast asleep, mouth ajar, chest rising and falling steadily. You watch him sleep for a while, his face serene and almost angelic before turning back on your side, closing your eyes. 

Mumbling in his sleep, he throws an arm over your waist and you freeze, before gingerly lifting his arm off, uncomfortable with such displays of physical affection. Closing your eyes, you’re overcome with a sudden nostalgia and longing for your present time and you sigh, praying that you would be able to return before your eyelids droop, slowly drifting off to dreamland. 

»»————-　　————-««

Over several days, you and Sangyeon have gotten to know each other well, thanks to late night conversations and going on adventures to escape the controlling grip of the imperial palace, where you felt like you couldn’t even breathe without a judging glance thrown your way. 

You would be lying if you didn’t find Sangyeon attractive. With his easy smile and the confident aura that he practically radiated, you cursed the gods for not creating such gorgeous men in your time. However, things have changed between you and him. Lately, you had caught him sneaking furtive glances at you and you had to admit that you had been doing the same, although you were sure you were more subtle. 

Last night, you and Sangyeon had laid together in the darkness, limbs tangled in the sheets, but no one made an effort to detangle themself from the material. Tentatively, you tested the waters and leaned against his arm. As expected, he slipped the arm out but to your surprise, he repositioned it around your shoulder, pulling you closer to his body. 

“You awake?” 

You had whispered into the quietness of the room and he had hummed in response. In the shadows of the room, you barely saw him shift. “Is something wrong?” He had lowered his voice to match yours, as if sharing a sacred secret. 

You shook your head, but quickly realized he probably couldn’t see you. “I can’t sleep, that’s all.” You had felt his laughter, the vibration rumbling through his chest and travelling down to your bones. “What a coincidence, I can’t either.”

You thought for a while before asking him to tell you more about himself. Although you had spent the days getting to know each other, it was one-sided. Him, nodding and listening intently while you had blabbered about yourself and any entertaining story you could think of, leaving out the important detail about coming from the future. Compiling, Sangyeon had then started telling stories about his childhood and his daily life. 

Delighted, you had curled up in a ball, feeling drowsy as he continued to speak, his soothing voice lulling you to sleep. Sensing your tiredness from your lack of response, he stops abruptly and when you blearily ask him why he stopped, he doesn’t respond, instead beginning to sing the rich melody of an unfamiliar song and your eyes widen momentarily in amazement, before fluttering close. Sangyeon’s voice was mellifluous, warm and honeyed, reminding you of a pleasant spring day, warm sunshine filtering through a canopy of trees while birds sang their individual melodies, yet still harmonizing to create a beautiful orchestration. 

Before you succumb to the enticing pull of sleep, Sangyeon wishes you a good sleep and for a second, your muddled brain ponders if you imagined the feeling of his lips against your forehead.

Lost in your thoughts, you don’t notice the door sliding open until footsteps jolt you into attention. Looking up, you lock eyes with Hwi-bin, Sangyeon’s first love. 

Your eyes rove over her features and you can’t help but feel envious. You could tell why Sangyeon loved her so intensely. Big, doe eyes, flawless skin, plush rosebud-like lips and long, silky hair. Hwi-bin was so beautiful that she was practically a goddess and you were convinced that if she was in your time, she’d have all the boys clamouring for her attention. 

As she greeted you, you panicked, opening your mouth as the gears in your head furiously functioned, trying to patch together words. Hwi-bin giggled at your flustered display before grabbing your hands, passion and urgency burning in the deep pools of her eyes.

“My lady, I am here to talk about the crown prince.”

You gulp involuntarily, your mind still a jumbled mess. “L-listen-” 

Before you can piece together your sentence, she interrupts you. “I just want to know if you love him or not. I’ll understand if you say you do, and I promise I won’t interfere with your marriage.”

Frantically, you shake your head. “I don’t love him, I swear.” Jealousy was a poison, dangerous enough to taint the hearts of even the most innocent or kind people. You knew from experience and you hoped Hwi-bin wasn’t like the crazy female characters in kdramas vowing for revenge. 

Noticeably relieved, she lets go of your hands, gratitude shining in her eyes. “I’m glad, then.” Hwi-bin turns away and leaves with an apologetic smile, saying that she was busy, although she regretted not being able to gossip with you. You nod, already staring off in a distance, unfocused, gradually losing yourself in the lucid world of your imagination.

If you had cared to look closely, you would’ve seen the malevolent smirk on Hwi-bin’s face and the dark, vindictive glimmer in her eyes. 

Oh, what a fool.

»»————-　　————-««

As you’re about to pay your respects to the queen, you cross paths with the king’s favourite concubine.  She regards you stonily as you step into a bow, dipping your head respectfully. Although your eyes are fixed on the ground, you can feel her slowly circling you. Uncomfortable, you shift slightly, feeling like prey pinned underneath a predator’s deadly stare. 

“I don’t understand how you got chosen amongst the millions of women practically begging to be the prince’s consort.” she muses, halting in front of you. Her voice was husky and deep like she smoked tobacco every day. Although it wasn’t melodious or lovely, you understood the allure and sensuality of it. 

You flinch when she grabs you by the chin, tilting your face up roughly, her grip bruising as she examines your features. Eun-Ji gasps, opening her mouth to protest but a sharp glance from the concubine silences her. 

“You’re not exceptionally beautiful either, rather average.” she continues, before letting go of your face. “Perhaps it is because your family is rich.” 

Your eye twitches before you school your features into a serene expression, allowing her to continue to direct insults and jabs at you. You knew better than to give her what she wanted.

“Sadly, the prince won’t be giving you much attention. You’ll die alone here. Besides, you’re just a willing pawn who will submit to her future king until he doesn’t need you anymore. Then, he’ll throw you away.” she feigns a pitiful expression before laughing mockingly, the sound grating and unpleasant. You recoil slightly when she leans in, her face mere inches from yours.

“However, as long as I live, that scoundrel won’t be the successor to the throne and you won’t be there to help aid his ascent to power.” she spits, her voice venomous, a drastic change compared to her relaxed words a few seconds ago. 

“Don’t call him a scoundrel,” you shoot back, resisting the urge to strike her. Yes, you had originally thought he was just a pompous prince who was power-hungry but after spending time with him, you realized that Sangyeon wasn’t truly as bad as you imagined. He was respectful and kind, clearly valuing and putting others before himself. 

The moment the words are out your mouth, you know it’s over for you. Although you could get severely disciplined for talking back, you felt no regret, only sick satisfaction.

Her eyes flash with anger and her hand strikes out, slapping you across the face with so much force you lose your balance, falling on the ground. Eun-Ji cries out, kneeling next to you as she examines you for any injuries.

“That’ll teach you a lesson. Telling me to respect him? Learn your place first.” she hisses, crouching down to your level and wiping her hand on the full skirt of your hanbok, as if there was grime on her hand from touching your face.  “Aren’t you so pathetic? Apologize to me and I’ll think about forgiving you.” she croons, expecting your grovelling. 

You consider for a heartbeat, weighing the two options. “I’d rather die.” you growl, bristling. When her smug expression morphs into something akin to shock, you feel a surge of pride. Although you knew better than to go around provoking other ladies of the court who could bring upon your demise, you did not want to be meek, thrown and played around with, like a toy underneath the lethal claws of a feline. 

“You want to get punished, don’t you?” she utters, livid. “That’s fine, kneel until your precious little prince finds you and saves you, just like the hero you’ve dreamed of.” You bite back the urge to tell her that you didn’t need a man to save you. You were fully capable of saving yourself. You detested being treated as a damsel-in-distress, just waiting for someone to take pity on her. 

“I guarantee he won’t, he will be too infatuated with Hwi-bin to care about you.” she derides, lips curling in a contemptuous smile. 

You open your mouth to refute, but she has already glided away, the silk of her lavish garment rippling underneath the light as her entourage follows her, their heads bowed. You growl in frustration before attempting to get up but Eun-Ji stops you, shaking her head. 

“If you don’t heed her order, you could get thrown into the dungeon,” she whispers frantically, her eyes shifting as she holds on to your wrist tightly. 

You shake your head in disdain. “Are you seriously scared of her?” you ask, trying to pry her fingers off your sleeve, the material of your garment creasing underneath her grip. 

She nods, relaxing her grip. "She has more power than you think she does. She could order your death if she wanted to." 

You bite back the colourful string of curses that you wanted to spew. Surely, that wasn't what a lady of the court would do. So you forced yourself to calm down, taking deep breaths before shifting, raising yourself to kneel. 

Hours pass, the rays of sunlight growing weaker as more and more clouds collect but you refuse to lower your chin, head held high. You don't bother glancing at the servants and nobles who walk past, whispering behind their hands as they eye you. 

Even if humiliation caused the blood to rush to your face and your knees to shake, you wouldn't give them the satisfaction of watching you break.

Rain starts to fall, gently at first, nothing but mist before the storm gray clouds roll in and suddenly it pours, pelting against the ground with so much force it causes the small puddles to ripple. You don't brush the raindrops away from your face, allowing them to continue cascading down. You already know your hair and garments are drenched and it sends chills through you. You clench your jaw, gritting your teeth to stop them chattering from the cold.

Where was Sangyeon?

»»————-　　————-««

You wake up, groaning as a panging headache hits you. Struggling, you sit up, eyes widening as you take in your surroundings, recognizing the familiar tapestries hanging on the wall and priceless decor that is placed in the room, lacquered floors shining, not even a hint of dust apparent. You tilted your head to the side, confused. You didn’t remember much from yesterday, except that you had made an enemy with the royal concubine and that she had told you to kneel as punishment for disrespecting her. 

You draw in a sharp breath. That could only mean one thing, right? Sangyeon had found you and safely returned you to your chambers. Which meant….

You shook your head, shaking off the smug triumph like a dog shaking off water. Still, you had to know it, had to hear it for yourself. 

Propping yourself up, you call for your lady-in-waiting. Eun-ji rushes to your aid, carrying a basin of water and a towel. With the speed of her pace, the water splashes against the sides of the basin, threatening to spill. 

She presses a hand against your forehead, concern creasing her brow when she feels the heat that practically radiates off of it. You smile when Eun-ji places the damp cloth on, your heart warming at how caring and considerate she is. 

"Why are you smiling, my lady?"

You recline on the propped cushions, eyes closed. "It's nothing. What happened?"

Eun-ji hesitates slightly before speaking up. “The queen came across your unconscious figure and ordered me to bring you home. She promised that she’d lift off the punishment that the concubine gave you.”

You turn, so quickly your head starts to spin and you feel faint. Groaning, you close your eyes for a heartbeat, focusing on your steady breathing and the warmth of her hands pushing your damp hair off your face. 

Footsteps hammer against the wooden floors and you twist around to peer at the door. Your heart soars when you see Sangyeon in the doorway, face flushed and breath strained as he pants, attempting to catch his breath. Despite his disordered appearance, he was handsome as always, dark, cocoa brown eyes sparkling in the sunshine, causing him to glow, features perfectly lit in the warm golden light. 

He stumbles towards you and Eun-ji quietly leaves as he catches your face with both hands, the heat of them seeping into your skin as he examines your face for any hint of injury or discomfort. Frowning, he speaks as he inspects the faint red on your check. 

“I heard what happened and I came as quickly as I could-”

"You were with her, weren't you?" you interrupt, voice quiet but it sounds loud to your ringing ears, echoing in the otherwise silent room. 

Sangyeon hesitates, clearly reluctant. "Answer me." you snap and you're in awe of your own boldness. An attitude like this could doom you, as seen with the incident that happened only a couple of hours ago. 

You figured you had nothing to lose, anyways. 

"...Yes." 

You sigh, dropping yourself right back on the futon, hair messily splayed out. You didn’t dare admit that it bothered you more than you’d like. After all, you were the one married to Sangyeon. Not Hwi-bin, not someone else, but you.  Not to mention he was awfully handsome and charming, confident, sweet and--

You broke off the train of thoughts, directing your focus somewhere else. You rubbed your temples, feeling an oncoming migraine and you furiously willed it to go away. "Listen Sangyeon," you began, meeting the gaze of the male next to you. 

"If you want to convince everyone that we're madly in love, you're going to have to act like it."

At your statement, Sangyeon tilts his head like a lost puppy. “What do you mean?”

For a crown prince who supposedly was a high-class scholar, excelling in both studies and skills, he could be so dim. You suppress the sigh that threatened to escape, instead meeting his gaze squarely to try and prove your point. “They can’t know we’re not in love, you idiot. The queen recently told me she was looking forward to becoming a grandmother, for god’s sake!” you exclaimed, shaking your fists in exasperation, trying to emphasize your point and get it through his thick skull. 

Sangyeon looked absolutely horrified, mouth hanging open, and you almost laughed at how comical his face looked before your heart dropped. Was it that terrifying to be in a marriage with you? You conceal your hurt, instead sitting up, the duvet pooling around your waist. You struggle with the silk, frowning at how restraining the material was. 

Shaking his head, he lifts his hands to grip your shoulders, ceasing your movements. You stall, heat blossoming in your face at how close he is. Sangyeon’s face is close to yours and you can feel every breath he takes. Turning away, you try to distract yourself from his lips, merely inches from yours and the way his breath tickled your cheek. Your mind was shrieking like a crushing schoolgirl about to have her first kiss and you divert your attention elsewhere, ashamed of your bold thoughts.

“Is it that bad, being in an arranged marriage with me?” you tease weakly, loosening his grip on your shoulders as you clear your throat, bumping your shoulder against his playfully, trying to lighten the serious mood.

Suddenly, Sangyeon avoids your eyes, cheeks reddening. “It really isn’t.” he whispers, puffing his cheeks out. “It’s not what you think.”

You tilt your head, puzzled. “What do you mean?”

“I mean...I care more than you think.” Sangyeon admits, and immediately buries his face into his hands, already dreading his decision to tell you. You stared at him, stunned. Was this...a confession? When you stay silent, he peeks through his fingers, only to be met with your face, centimeters from his. Eyes widening almost comically, he tries to shy away but you lean in closer to plant a chaste kiss on his cheek. Sangyeon’s blush deepens and he instantly interprets your hidden message in the display of affection. 

Silence ensues, but it’s not awkward, rather the opposite. Hesitantly, he picks up your hand and plays with your fingers, gaze dropping bashfully to his lap. The room seems to brighten, becoming more colourful and vivid. Pale and washed-out colours of misery and despair are replaced by the spirited and vigorous colours of yellow irises and peach blossoms. 

Suddenly, Sangyeon pulls you, mindful of your feverish body, but with enough force so that you land in his lap. Laughing, you prop your chin on his shoulder and run your hands through his hair as his arms snake around your waist, snuggling into the crook of your neck. 

“What about Hwi-bin?” you ask timidly and your question seems to partially dissipate the whimsical mood. Pulling away, Sangyeon considers your question as he twirls a lock of your hair around his finger. 

“I’ll have to tell her.” he says firmly, “It’s not right to keep this from her. But our relationship is technically public because we are married.” With his last statement, he wiggles his eyebrows at you and you shove him away playfully, pulling a disgusted face. 

“You’re making me regret reciprocating your feelings.” 

Sangyeon gasps dramatically, clutching at his chest. “How could you say that?” 

He lunges forward, capturing you in his arms as he tries to tickle you but you block him with your hands, grappling for control until you finally latch onto his wrists, obstructing his movements. Sangyeon presses his forehead against yours before frowning, pulling back. 

“You’re feverish, (Y/n).” he tells you gently, turning to grab the abandoned cloth that had fallen off, submerging it in the cool water before placing it back on your forehead. You’re about to make a snarky remark but Sangyeon shushes you, your smirk disappearing, replaced with a pout.

“I’ve got paperwork to do so I’ll leave you to rest. Get better, (Y/n).” 

You nod, closing your eyes, a smile settling on your lips as you listen to his soft footsteps recede into the distance and when you sink into sleep, not even one nightmare plagues it.

 »»————-　　————-««

Laughter fills the shadows of the forest as you dart away from Sangyeon’s reach, sticking your tongue out childishly. “Try and catch me!” you call, nothing but adrenaline and joy running through your veins, fueling you to feel foolishly carefree, like you were drunk on the finest alcohol. Running away, you spread your arms out like the wings of an eagle, tilting your head back, enjoying the feeling of the wind caressing your face. 

Your eyes widen when you notice something white from a distance. You fall prey to your curiosity as you meander along, picking your way carefully amongst the fallen leaves and large roots of ancient trees that snake through the dirt of the forest floor. 

Heart pounding, you reach the mysterious object, inhaling sharply when you realize that it’s a lovely young woman asleep on the floor, gossamer robes covering her frame. Shaking her shoulder, you attempt to rouse her, eyes roving over her face and body to search for telltale signs of injury. Noticing none, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Turning away, you attempt to call out to Sangyeon, but a hand slaps over your mouth, muffling your cry.

Turning around, you realize the woman is awake and fear strikes you when you note the glimmer of menace in her black, pitless eyes. “(Y/n) (L/n),” she begins, and as she speaks, her robes shift, revealing nine tails, pure as snow. Her hand lifts off your mouth but her eyes tell you that if you were to scream she wouldn’t hesitate to resort to violence. 

Briefly, you remember the tale of the nine-tailed fox before terror erases it, all reason leaving you in an instant. You couldn’t tell if the woman was trying to give you a friendly greeting or if she’d pull a knife on you in a heartbeat. “H-have we met?” you stammer, laughing nervously to mask your fear. You struggle against her iron grip but your strength is no match for her overpowering one. 

“You come from the future, yes? You are looking for a way to return back to your time and I believe I can aid you with that.” she continues calmly, and you go limp, struggling to find the right words. 

How did she know?

“How I know is none of your business.” she adds sharply, as if she could read your mind. “However...I can tell you how to get back to your time.”

“In exchange for what?” you question warily, finally finding your voice. Staying in Joseon,, you knew better than to accept someone’s offer without finding out what price you had to pay. 

Throwing back her head, the woman lets out a laugh that echoes sharply and you survey your surroundings cautiously to try and detect any lingering eavesdroppers. “Smart girl,” The nine-tailed fox leans back with a smug smile, arms crossed over her chest. “Quite fortunate for you, I demand no price. Whether you accept or not, you must leave as you are interfering with the history of Joseon.” 

“Listen closely, for you won’t have another chance.” says the nine-tailed fox, her voice dropping to a whisper, forcing you to lean in closer, straining to hear her.

“Exactly a week later, the planets will align, creating a rare phenomenon and a celestial light will appear, creating an opening where you can escape back to your time. You may have experienced this when you accidentally travelled here.”

You nod, everything slowly connecting and making sense. The corridor in the palace had glowed brighter and you predicted that it was the same celestial light that had allowed you to travel back in time. “How are you sure this will work?” you ask, doubtful.

The woman seems taken aback by your question, then offended. “You have to trust me. It’s your only chance and it is a rare occurrence so it will only happen many centuries later. I doubt a mere mortal like you could live that long.” At that, she barks a laugh before sobering, suddenly grasping your hands with her cold ones.

“You were wrong to fall in love. Joseon does not need you here. You must break ties with your prince and leave before you alter the history, ultimately changing the way your world works as well.” she states, urgency dripping from her voice as she stares into your eyes, any sign of the previous mockery and mirth gone. 

You incline your head in understanding. “I understand,” you breathe. “Although...where am I supposed to find this celestial light?”

Suddenly, the sound of fallen leaves crunching alert you of another presence and the woman whips her head in the direction, eyes narrowing. “Look for an open space. The best area would be the bridge that passes over the river.”

“(Y/n)?” 

You startle, recognizing Sangyeon’s voice. Discerning the worry in his voice, you try to pull away from the nine-tailed fox but she tugs on your hands. “Good luck. Your fate is in your hands. No one can change it but you.” 

She disappears, leaving you dazed, kneeling on the ground amidst the autumn leaves. You pick up the closest leaf, staring numbly at the vibrant scarlet colour as you try to decipher the information. Hearing Sangyeon call your name again, you respond, listening to his footsteps gradually increasing in volume.

Scooping you up into his embrace, Sangyeon buries his face into the crook of your face, inhaling your scent. “Where were you? You scared me.” he whines, uncharacteristically pouty.

You laugh shakily, reaching up to squeeze his face, pulling at his cheeks. “Sorry. I got distracted by a fox.” You felt bad lying to him but at least you were technically telling the truth. You did see a fox...just not the type Sangyeon would expect.

“Let’s get out of the forest. It’s starting to get dark.” he answers, not even noticing your lie, despite how your voice trembled. Sangyeon tore his gaze away from you, eyeing the forest. The sun was almost completely set, mist creeping into the forest as a chill descended, creating an eerie atmosphere. You couldn’t help but jump several times when you noticed a shadow slinking near you, shaken from the encounter with the peculiar woman. 

Hiking out of the forest, you huffed, swiping at the sweat that collected on your forehead. It was already evening, the stars and moon already coming out of hiding, shining brightly on you and Sangyeon, your hand clasped tightly in his and you couldn’t help but chuckle amusedly. It was like he was afraid of losing sight of you. Struggling slightly, you shake off his hand, ignoring his protests. 

Trudging to the meadow, you plop down on the grass, stretching your legs out as you sighed in relief, tilting your head back to gaze lazily at the sky.

Patting the space next to you, you beamed at Sangyeon, whose eyes crinkled endearingly as he reciprocated it before settling down in the grass next to you. Absentmindedly, you hum, running your fingers through the blades of grass, raindrops collecting on your fingertips. 

Your thoughts drift away to the encounter with the nine-tailed fox but you push them away, choosing to instead savour the few moments you had alone with Sangyeon. You lower yourself until you’re lying in the grass, lifting a hand to study the stars, silhouetted against the dark night sky and you marvel at how clear it is compared to the sky in your present time, swirls of midnight and navy blue embellished with bands of gold and silver stars that twinkle mysteriously down at you, nothing shielding its pure beauty. 

Fabric rustles as Sangyeon does the same, lying next to you. You can feel the warmth radiating off his body and it lulls you into a sense of safety. Turning your head slightly, you admire him, eyes roving over his sharp features shamelessly, memorizing every slant and curve, tucking it away in your memories. Shifting onto your side, you let your hand reach out, finger gently running along the bridge of his nose before gently tapping it twice. Sangyeon’s lips twitch as he fights back a smile but his eyes flutter close as his hand snaps out to grasp your wrist, lowering it as he brings it to his mouth, softly kissing it before letting go. 

It feels bittersweet, knowing that you had fallen in love with Sangyeon. It was the right person, but the wrong time. Although you didn’t believe in destiny, it felt like you and him were destined to meet, to provide a paradise for the both of you, even if it didn’t last for long.

What was the word again? 

Ephemeral. 

Your relationship with him was ephemeral. Fleeting, short-lived. Something that would last for a short time before you left for good. You closed your eyes as a weight crushed your chest, the reminder that you would leave him behind to a world where things seemed more complicated, especially not with Sangyeon by your side. 

“You alright?”

His soft yet deep voice rouses you out of your thoughts and you can’t help but shudder slightly at how sensuous it sounds. You nod, not trusting yourself enough to form words without stuttering or blurting out something embarrassing. He twists to face you and your palm instinctively moves to cup his face, running feather-light fingertips along his jawline, the warmth of his skin seeping into yours. Sangyeon’s eyes flutter close at your touch and his lips curve before he turns to press another kiss to your palm, nuzzling his nose into your hand before he allows you to continue to cradle his face. He exhales shakily. Never in his life has Sangyeon ever felt so free and his heart has never felt so full for someone. Time seemed to stop as you lay on the grass, eyes tracing over the constellations, sparkling like they approved. 

In this moment, titles and responsibilities were stripped away, leaving only vulnerability and fragility behind. Sangyeon wasn’t a crown prince and you weren’t from the future, five hundred years later. In this moment, he was just a normal boy and you were just a girl, exposing yourselves to a beautiful blooming love and throwing yourself recklessly into its embrace. Everything felt magical and just right.

»»————-　　————-««

You blink at Hwi-bin. “Excuse me?” 

“Don’t act like you don’t know! You were flirting with Prince Sejo right in public, without shame! How could you? You are married to Prince Sangyeon, the crown prince!” 

You winced at her shrill voice grating on your senses. “I don’t understand what you are trying to say.” you repeat calmly, holding up your hands to try and placate her. You had originally thought Hwi-bin was a sweet girl who wouldn’t swear vengeance but it seemed like your first impression of others was generally incorrect as she was less of a princess, now more like the envious lady in every fairytale who tried to plot the doom of the protagonist.

She huffed, whirling around to face the royal concubine. “My lady, you witnessed it as well!”

The female smirks, leaning forward, her finger tracing over the rim of the porcelain cup in her hand. “How shameful, a noble lady of the court, already married to the crown prince she still flirts and seduces another prince.”

You glare at her, not even trying to mask your hatred for her. “I was simply having a civil conversation with Prince Sejo, my lady. Do I not have the right to speak to other males besides the crown prince?”

“Oh you do.” drawled the concubine, dragging out the words as she stretched out languorously on her seat while you knelt at her feet. “However…” 

She leaned forward, a malicious grin surfacing, reminding you of a hungry hyena ready to attack unexpecting prey. “Romancing another man while you are married to another is punishable by death.”

You crossed your arms, defiant. “I do not know what you are talking about.”

“Oh? We’ll have to see what the crown prince says about this.” she laughed and dread formed in your stomach at the sinister tone in her voice. As if on cue, Sangyeon enters, hands folded behind his back.

Hope rises, like doves that fly when the sun rises. A radiant smile spreads on your face, only to be diminished quickly, like a blown out candle. Sangyeon’s face was unreadable, his dark eyes stormy and calculating as he beheld you. You go rigid as he doesn’t acknowledge you, instead turning to lower his head and say something to the concubine. 

He twirls the dagger in his hand, examining it idly, not even bothering to look at you. “Is what she says true?” he asks, finally acknowledging you as he stares at you with pitless, emotionless eyes. You could hardly recognize the man in front of you. Where was the gentle and sweet Sangyeon you had spent all your days with?

You shake your head frantically, trying to calmly reason with him. “Sangyeon, you know I would never do this.” 

“Really?” Sangyeon lifts a brow. “There were people witnessing you trying to seduce my brother and convince him to elope with you, though.”

Heart leaping into your throat, dread forms in your stomach. Everything was going terribly wrong. He was supposed to believe you but he seemed to have morphed into an entirely different person overnight. Sangyeon looked down at you in disdain, as if you were something that was merely wasting his precious time. The captivating feelings of love that had blossomed were now wilting before your very eyes, smooth ruby petals falling, falling and falling, till they reached the ground, shriveled and black like the ugly hatred gathering in your heart. 

The royal concubine spoke up, leaning forward. “What should we do with her, Your Excellency?”

“You can do whatever you want with her.” Sangyeon turned to look you straight in the eyes. “I never loved her anyway. She was just a toy, a mere plaything to me.”

It was the apathetic tone of his words that finally broke you. Saccharine eyes that once beheld you like you were his entire world, now harsh and bitter as they stared at you piercingly, stripping you of your dignity and strength, leaving you vulnerable. Like a dam barely holding up under the sheer pressure of the river, it broke, and all your emotions came pouring in. 

You stare at Sangyeon in shock, betrayal evident on your face. “Please tell me this isn't true. Sangyeon...please!” you beg, tears filling your eyes as your bottom lip quivers. “You love me right? You know I wouldn’t ever do this!” 

You felt pathetic and unwanted, kneeling at their feet as they looked on, clearly uninterested. Yet you were still in denial, hoping that Sangyeon would come to his senses miraculously and help you out of this mess. 

To your horror, he stares at you challengingly before pressing a kiss against Hwi-bin’s lips,  mirrored smirks on both their faces as Sangyeon turns to face you, without breaking eye contact. “Is that enough proof? Did you really think I truly loved you? It was all an act to unite your family with mine. You are such a fool, (Y/n).”

You lowered your head, vision blurring as you stared at the floor, tears cascading down your face and dripping onto the floorboards, creating a small puddle of sorrow and anguish, nothing compared to your fragile heart, shattered and left on display for all to see.  

The royal concubine cackles, adding to your humiliation and shame, burning bright on your cheeks. “I told you the crown prince would always choose Hwi-bin over you.” she crows triumphantly. “Guards, take her away to the dungeon. I’m sick of her dramatic display.”

Your eyes widen in alarm and you look up, tears falling freely, shining like crystals as you desperately try to seek out Sangyeon, but he’s already turned away, walking away with Hwi-bin by his side. Sangyeon looks at her lovingly, like she’s the only person that matters and your heart crumbles, knowing that he once looked at you like that too. Slumping, you let the guards roughly pull you to your feet, your head lolling to the side in defeat as they drag you towards your awaited fate.

»»————-　　————-««

You sat in the cell, legs tucked neatly underneath you, the rich material of your hanbok soiled beyond repair but you paid it no heed, eyes fixed on the iron bars that separated you from the rest of the castle. Your legs were aching from being pressed into the firm and coarse floor, the thin layer of filthy hay doing nothing to soften it. A chipped bowl of rice and water sat in front of you but it was untouched. 

Hearing footsteps echo on the stone of the floors, you straighten, chin raised in defiance. Did the royal concubine come to taunt you? Hwi-bin? Or was it time for torture? 

You blanch when you realize who's standing in front of you. The crown prince himself. For several heartbeats you stare at him, nothing but betrayal and sorrow on your features before they harden into a cold mask, your eyes betraying nothing. 

Seconds pass, bleeding into minutes. You grit your teeth, feeling like several agonizing hours had passed while Sangyeon stood there, merely observing you. Feeling the need to break the ice that was thickening between you, you opened your mouth. 

“Did you even care about me? Am I just a pawn to be used?” you asked, your voice oddly quiet as you stared at him with a terrifying calmness, like the calm before a great storm. Sangyeon watched you, his expression inscrutable as he clasped his hands behind his back. Your breath hitches as you remember the royal consort’s words.

“Besides, you’re just a willing pawn who will submit to her future king until he doesn’t need you anymore. Then, he’ll throw you away.”

You could almost hear her cackle, echoing in your head as if she already knew the result. “Have you ever seen me… as more than something to take advantage of?” you continue when he doesn’t respond and you finally break, the wall you had constructed finally cracking, nothing but remnants of it left. You dig your fingers into your palm, a familiar prickling sensation in your eyes as tears start to swell, your bottom lip quivering.

His words from yesterday resurface. “Did you really think I truly loved you? It was all an act to unite your family with mine. You are such a fool, (Y/n).”

Sangyeon still doesn’t say anything, his indifferent expression infuriating you. You felt like you were fighting a one-sided battle, as if you were struggling against the strong waves of the ocean that tugged insistently at you, dunking you under over and over again. 

"I was so naive...I thought I'd be able to compete with Hwi-bin but we were never on the same level, to begin with. She was your first, first love, first kiss, first everything. You prioritize her over me because she’s got you wrapped around her finger. Every single time, you'll continue to return back to her.” you laugh bitterly, fingers digging into your scalp, tugging roughly at the unbound strands of your hair. 

The image of love, of romance, was different now. Your relationship with him had started off shakily and although insecurity and doubt swallowed you, you let yourself look ahead, fix your eyes on the light that had appeared at the seemingly never-ending tunnel. It was hope. 

Love...could be compared to a rose in full bloom, lovely with its soft and vermilion petals swaying gently in the wind, carrying over its fragrant and enticing scent, luring you closer until your hands reached out to cup it in your hands, under the charm of its seemingly harmless beauty. The longer you allow yourself to fall underneath its charm, lingering feelings turned into tentative and fleeting kisses, then tangled in each other’s arms, whispering sweet nothings as the moon continues its steady climb in the sky. 

Now that it’s in your possession, you become greedy, wanting more. Your hands slide to its stem, maneuvering it so you can pick it. You’re so captivated that you don’t notice the thorns that gleam menacingly underneath the sunlight until it’s too late, the tender skin of your fingertips breaking as they sink into it, rivulets of scarlet blood cascading down. 

The spell crumbling, you regain your senses and you’re aware of the stinging pain of the wound, You snatch your hand away but the damage is already done. There are two choices: attempt to pick the rose again and let yourself succumb to the pain, numbing your senses as blood continues to trickle or discard it and let yourself heal. 

You had chosen the latter. Entering the imperial palace, you had firmly told yourself to not fall for love’s traps and tricks but here you were, like some kind of lovestruck fool, vying for Sangyeon’s affection. It was time to shut him out, deny him any entrance to your heart and instead, focus on getting back to your true home, five hundred years later. 

Immersed in your brooding thoughts, you don’t notice Sangyeon moving closer to you, the dirty hay shifting underneath his feet. “(Y/n).” he breathes and at the sound of his voice, your heart aches, longing to be in his arms, to be able to feel the smooth skin of his face beneath your palms. You glare at him, backing up to place more distance in between you, pushing the wistful thoughts away. They were like poison, able to muddy your thoughts and cause you to act differently. 

Despite your retreat and clear unwillingness, Sangyeon continues to advance until your back hits the rough and grimy wall of the prison cell. Before you can open your mouth to unleash the lengthy counter that you’ve been holding in, his lips are on yours. Involuntarily, you inhale sharply, a gasp that sounded noisy within the hushed cell, the sound swallowed by his mouth as your fingers instantly tangle themselves in his hair. The familiarity of his soft lips on yours causes electricity to tingle through your entire body and you felt euphoric like you were on cloud nine. 

Your hands fall to the side as Sangyeon presses you roughly against the wall, one hand supporting himself as he deepens the kiss, causing you to feel dizzy. Your knees weaken, turning into jelly as he nips at your lip, teasing it with a graze of his teeth. His free hand finds yours, clasping yours in his with a gentleness that contrasts with the unrelenting pressure of his mouth on yours. 

The kiss is searing, it burns away your worries and problems for the time being, the passion racing through your veins like a fire swallowing a forest. It melts away the ice freezing your heart and you let yourself submit to it and lay yourself bare, becoming vulnerable. 

You swear you feel Sangyeon pass something to you, the cool metal biting into the heated palm of your hand but all thoughts are gone as he parts, trailing soft kisses down your neck. Your unoccupied hand curls into a fist and you know you shouldn't let yourself get carried away. 

After all, Sangyeon was the rose, he was dangerously charming, drawing you so close that your head spun, lessening your chances of returning back to your rightful home. 

Keeping the advice the nine-tailed fox told you in mind, your hand raises to press against his chest, firmly pushing him away and effectively dislodging his lips from yours. 

Sangyeon eyes you, your lips no doubt matching the swollen state of his. He leans in closer, lips brushing against the shell of your ear. You brace yourself, squeezing your eyes shut. 

"Tomorrow at dawn, at the back gates." he whispers, his breath tickling your ear. Your eyes open and they flash with anger as your hand connects with his face and you ignore the stinging of your palm as you withdraw it. 

"Don't tell me what to do." you seethe, gaze locking with his. You glimpse the pink blossoming on the side of Sangyeon's face and you almost feel guilty but you remind yourself that this was all his fault. You had your own plans and you were not going to fail. 

Sangyeon has the audacity to smirk at you as his hand lifts to touch his cheek, eyes dark with desire but they soften when he notices how your hands clench, knuckles whitening. 

You don't look up but you can feel Sangyeon's lingering gaze. He turns on his heel and leaves, bringing the warmth with him, the cell turning back into a bleak gray. Although he's gone, you can still feel his presence.

You move to press the heels of your hands against your brow but the clang of something hitting the ground startles you. Whirling, you peer at the floor and amidst the hay, something gold winking up at you. 

Your hand reaches out, fingers wrapping around it. A key…? Your eyes widen as you remember Sangyeon pressing something into your palm, flushing when you also remember how...preoccupied you were. 

You savour the feeling of the cool metal contrasting with the warmth of your skin as you play with it, your mind racing and calculating. The nine-tailed fox had told you that tomorrow at midnight, all eight major planets in the Solar System would align, which was a rare occurrence that would allow you to travel back to your time. 

During your short time here, you had already taken note of when the guards would rotate into different shifts. That would give you the time to escape to the bridge but with none to spare. If something went wrong...you shook your head. Now was not the time to dwell on if you would fail or not. Lifting your head, you stared at the crescent moon outside of the narrow gap in the wall that served as a window, watching the clouds drift by, blocking the moonlight momentarily.

You could only bide your time and wait.

You called sweetly out to the guard outside your cell, lifting a hand to beckon him closer to request paper and ink. For now, you’ll write a letter to say goodbye to Sangyeon. You felt hollow, dreading the final goodbye but it was inevitable. He belonged here and you belonged in your own time. 

»»————-　　————-««

You didn’t remember much of the next day. After sealing the letter to Sangyeon, you had somehow gotten the guard to cooperate and deliver it to him. All you could do was wait, legs cramping from kneeling on the floor the entire time. You hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep and you felt exhausted, but you were determined to not let the golden opportunity slip from your grasp.

You had spent the day watching the rotations of guards and you noted that the rotation was the same, as if you weren’t worth guarding. You scoff, scorn burning in your veins. You’d show them by escaping. They might have expected a meek girl who couldn’t do anything but merely watch with tears in her eyes and wait for her shining knight in armour to save her but you didn’t need a saviour. You would create your chance and leave this wretched place. 

The sound of heavy footsteps startling you, you recognize the familiar jangling of the keyring paired with off-key whistling, presumably from the nightguard. Shifting, you grip the brick in your hand. You had pried the loose brick from the wall, in hopes of wielding it as a weapon if you got caught. Drops of sweat slither down the back of your neck as you listen to the sound of footsteps recede as the guard hummed merrily, clearly in a good mood after finishing his shift. Knowing you didn’t have time to spare, you rummaged through the make-shift pouch for the key of the cell. Although you hated to ruin such beautiful silk, the long material hindered your movements and you had no choice but to tear it off, exposing your calves and providing freedom of movement. 

Heart pounding, you find the key, almost dropping it due to your clammy hands. Holding it between your clammy fingers, you allow a second to collect yourself before advancing to the door, reaching through the bars. Straining, you miss the keyhole a couple of times before it slips in. Twisting it, your ears perk up when you hear the click and it unlocks, swinging open with a creak. Venturing out, you pause, listening for any footsteps. 

Hearing none, you pad quietly out before settling into a sprint, making sure to tread lightly to avoid unwanted noise. Pressing against a wall, you hold your breath as you wait for the guard pass, narrowly escaping. It wouldn’t be long until someone noticed the cell was empty. The moment he’s gone, you peel yourself away, and dart into the woods, hurrying towards the bridge. 

You slow your pace the moment the bridge comes into sight, the river serene and calm as it winds through the countryside, moonlight causing the water to sparkle. Taking a moment to survey the surroundings for any unwanted intruders, you exhale heavily. Finally, you were only a step away from achieving your heart’s desire: returning to your rightful time. 

Yet…..why did your heart feel so heavy? 

Your brain and heart were in turmoil, disagreeing with what each had to say. While your brain argued that it was only correct to return, your heart begged tearfully to stay and you knew exactly what, no who, was still tying you to this wretched place, with its malicious dangers and traps disguised as sunshine and freedom: Sangyeon.

How many times had your heart leapt at the sight of him? At the mere sound of his name, of his voice? Despite his betrayal and change of heart, you still loved him and you held onto the tiny shred of hope, like the light at the end of a pitch-black tunnel, that he still loved you as well. After all, Sangyeon had presented you the opportunity to escape by giving you the key. 

You shook your head, clearing the treacherous thoughts that threatened to take over your logic. No, whether your heart agreed or not, whether you would eventually regret it or not, you had to return home. You shuddered, imagining spending another day in Joseon, without your family or any of your friends. 

Advancing towards the bridge, you watch your flickering shadow pass on the wooden planks, the wood creaking slightly in protest under your weight. Leaning on the railing, you gazed at the lone fish darting underneath lily pads, its scales silver underneath the moonlight. Raising your head, you squinted at the sky. As if in response, it glowed brighter and you watched, astounded, as the clouds broke apart and light shone through, like an angel was descending to Earth. 

It shined down upon you, and you basked in it, your eyes barely open due to the sheer glare of the light, joy flooded your face as you rejoiced, as you awaited your return. Looking down, you gasped when you realized that you were slowly disappearing, your hands shimmering ghostly and when you tried to grip the railing of the bridge, your hands passed through. You guessed it meant that the nine-tailed fox was correct, and that it would effectively bring you back to the future.

Pounding footsteps alert you of another presence and you whirl around, the strands of your hair dancing wildly in the breeze. Your eyes meet Sangyeon’s and your heart plummets, raising your hands shakily to keep him away from the light. You couldn’t risk him altering history and travelling to the future with you, even if it sounded tempting.

 “What are you doing here?” you shout, panic rising, shaking your head repeatedly as he tries to take a step closer. 

“Your letter.” Sangyeon stated simply, voice trembling, full of emotion, of denial, fear and sorrow, as his eyes filled with tears, threatening to spill over. A letter is clenched in his fist, familiar handwriting scrawled hastily on the faded surface.

“You’re joking right? From the future? You can’t be serious…” he whispers, hope ablaze in his eyes as he stops in his tracks, and your heart cries out, singing for him, for his touch, for his warmth to surround you once again. 

You don’t respond, gazing at him solemnly and the hope fades, like the final rays of the sun before twilight takes over. Sangyeon’s shoulders sag, defeated. “This is goodbye then?”  

“You know, I always thought you were acting weird. The (Y/n) I knew was haughty, snobbish and power-hungry but you were nothing like what the rumours said. At this point, I’m not even surprised you���re from the future.” he laughs bitterly, running his hands through his hair, tugging at the strands roughly as he starts pacing in tight circles, distraught. 

Glancing down at your body, you notice that you’re almost transparent, the light erasing you from this world that you were never supposed to even be in. “Sangyeon.” you call, ceasing his pacing as you beckon for him, longing to hold his face in your hands and take in his breathtaking beauty, shining so brightly that you were positive you would never forget, even when you were wrinkled and gray from age. 

“I love you.” you tell him sincerely, hands reaching up to cup his cheeks but they pass through, and Sangyeon’s eyes widen in alarm when you start fading. 

“Wait!” he screams, lunging towards you to hold you, to do anything to stop you from leaving, but you’re already disappearing, your face blurring as you smile at him, fighting back tears. Just as suddenly as it appears, the odd light disappears back into the clouds, like it was never there. Sangyeon expects you to still be standing there, to embrace him and grace him with that lovely smile but you’re gone. Sangyeon is left by himself, standing still on the bridge, the wind tousling his hair, each strand dancing individually as he slumps, heartbroken.

Suddenly, it was like the world was drained of its colours. The sky was no longer a hopeful image of promising love and dreams, instead a mocking gray filled with dull stars that didn’t sparkle as brightly like they did when he saw them with you. Collapsing on the bridge, he cries, tears falling freely as he hugs himself, chest heaving as he tries to breathe steadily, his whole body racking with the painful sobs that threaten to rip him apart, broken apologies and pleas falling from his trembling lips.

“I love you too.” 

He repeats the phrase over and over again, as if it alone, would bring you back to his side and fill the emptiness in his heart. 

This was never supposed to happen. 

»»————-　　————-««

“(Y/n). (Y/n!)”

Distantly, you hear a faraway voice, desperate and fearful, calling out to you. Regaining consciousness, your eyes flutter open, taking in the familiar surroundings. Recognizing the corridor, you sigh, relieved. Turning your head, you notice your friend, kneeling at your side. 

“Are you alright?” she gasps, lifting your head gently to check for any wounds. When she finds none, she smiles faintly, glad, before her gaze travels down to examine your face. “Have you been crying?” she questions, bewildered.

Your eyes were red-rimmed and puffy, cheeks blotchy and she could see the remnants of tears dried on them. You ignore her question, heart aching again as you remember Sangyeon’s panicked and distraught face as he reached out to you, only to grasp empty air. You accept her helping hand, groaning when the world spins and you clutch onto your head, closing your eyes for a moment to stabilize yourself. 

You slowly walk out of the corridor, taking wobbly steps to reunite with your group. Your face lights up when you notice the familiar group of tourists, and you quicken your pace, ignoring your friend’s attempts of slowing you down. Gasping, you bump into someone’s back, almost throwing you off balance until you’re steadied by him, large hands supporting you. Looking up, the apology dies in your throat as you’re met with a familiar face.

Sangyeon?

Recognition floods you as your eyes rove over the slopes and angles of the male’s face.  He looked eerily similar to Sangyeon and you almost laughed at the coincidence. Life just kept on surprising you when you least expected it.

In front of you, the man apologizes and offers you a smile. “Have we met?” he questions, tilting his head, and your heart soars at the familiarity of it.

You hide your smile, looking down at your feet as memories surfaced, of kisses stolen in corridors and sweet nothings whispered at night, when Sangyeon had thought you were asleep.

“No, I don’t think so. I’m (Y/n).” you state, offering your hand.

“Sangyeon.” he grins, eyes crinkling adorably as he grips your hand, shaking it firmly and your cheeks involuntarily flush at the warmth of his hand enveloping yours.

Even if your love had happened almost 600 years ago, somehow life had bound you together again and you swore you saw a glimpse of the delicate red string that encircled your pinky, connecting yours with his before it disappeared. You listen to him talk, nodding along absentmindedly. Perhaps you were soulmates. 

At that, the clouds break apart, revealing the moon, illuminating the area, washing the stone in silvery tones, as if showing its approval. 

»»————-　　————-««

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[dialovers-translations]

Diabolik Lovers VANDEAD CARNIVAL ;; Ruki Route ー Chapter 2

ー The scene starts on the Carnival’s venue

Yui: Come to think of it...You said you don’t know what the ‘Queen of the Carnival’ is about either, right?

Ruki: Yes. I was aware of the existence of the Carnival itself, but never had I heard of there being a Queen.

Yui: You knew about the Carnival already? But you’ve never come here, right?

Ruki: It’s my first time visiting. However, I read about it in Eden in the past.

Yui: Eden?

Ruki: It’s the castle us siblings lived at during the time we had just been turned into Vampires. It is what we would call the place.

Amongst the literary collection at the castle, I found a book which had information on the Carnival and read it.

I believe the book mentioned that the Demon World’s Carnival is set up to resemble similar festivities in the human world. 

Back then, I never even fathomed I would one day be able to enjoy it myself, of course...

I suppose you can never predict the future.

However, thinking back to it now, I am fairly certain nothing was written about a Queen.

That bothers me.

Yui: ( ...I’ve gotten a little anxious. I wonder what the Queen’s duty is? )

( I just hope I don’t get myself involved in anything strange or scary... )

Ruki: ...

Oi, Livestock. We’re gonna take a small break. I’m sure you’re exhausted too?

Yui: Eh? Why would you suddenly bring that up...?

Ruki: There’s a perfect shop over there. Let’s go.

ー Ruki walks away

Yui: Eh? Uhm, Ruki-kun!?

ー The scene shifts to Cafe ‘Tarte Tatin’

Waiter A: Welcome!

Yui: ( This is...a cafe? It looks normal from the outside... )

( But all the customers here are Vampires, right? It’s honestly kind of amazing... )

Ruki: Do you have any spare tables?

Waiter A: Yes, for two, right? Please wait one secーー Ah...

...Pardon my rudeness, dear customer. However, does that lady over there happen to be a human...?

Yui: ( He noticed...My scent should be suppressed by the drug though... )

Uhm, I...

Ruki: If I say yes, would that pose a problem?

Waiter A: I-I never claimed as much but...

Ruki: Then why ask that question?

Waiter A: U-Uhm...

Manager: ーー Pardon me, customer.

Is my waiter causing any trouble?

Ruki: Yes, he made a statement as if this place picks its customers, you see...I was hoping to inquire him about his true intentions.

Manager: ...Is the lady over there a human?

Yui: ( So they really do notice. I wonder if the medicine hasn’t taken full effect yet...? )

( Ruki-kun was so kind to tell me to enjoy myself too, but like this... )

Ruki: Let me tell you, she is no ordinary human.

She is special. One chosen by Karlheinz-sama, that is.

Waiter A: By Karlheinz-sama...!?

Manager: This human is...?

Ruki: If you reject her entrance, you are basically going against that man’s wishes too.

Manager: ...

...Prepare a table on the terrace.

Waiter A: Eh? ...Are you sure?

Manager: I shall permit it. ...They are very important customers after all.

Please excuse our rudeness, dear customers. We shall prepare everything right away, so please wait one second.

Ruki: Sure.

Yui: ( You know... )

Ruki: Why are you looking at me like that? If there’s something on your mind, tell me.

Yui: N-No...

( Ruki-kun is very reliable, it’s at times like these that I realize how lucky I am to have him on my side... )

Ruki: ...Yui. You should learn to be a little more assertive.

Yui: Assertive?

Ruki: You need to learn to voice your own opinion.

Nothing good comes from being too timid.

You are the chosen Eve. Have more confidence. Be proud.

If you stand there cowering, (1) it has a negative impact on me, the person by your side, as well.

Yui: ...Right. I’m sorry, Ruki-kun. 

Ruki: Of course, I know that is simply who you are. Therefore, I’m not exactly blaming you or anything.

I do like that side of you too after all.

Yui: Eh...?

Waiter A: My apologies for the wait. I shall escort you to your seats.

Ruki: Let’s go.

The terrace is a VIP seat. Try and keep your head up high, so you seem fitting of sitting there. Understood?

*TIMESKIP*

Waiter A: Here’s your coffee, cafe au lait and tarte tatin.

*Thud*

Yui: Wah...Looks delicious!  Take a look, Ruki-kun!

Ruki: Oi, don’t make too much of a fuss. Did I not tell you these seats are special? You’re embarrassing us.

Yui: Ah...Sorry.

Ruki: Remain calm when eating. Right now you are reminding me of Kou or Yuma.

Yui: Yes...Well then, I’ll have a bite.

*Cling*

Yui: Nn...Delicious!

Ruki: I see.

Yui: You won’t eat anything?

Ruki: No. Watching you eat something so sugary sweet is more than enough for me.

Yui: However, it actually isn’t too overly sweet, so won’t you try some as well?

We’re here together now anyway, so just one bite, okay?

Ruki: ...If you insist, I suppose I will. Give me some.

Yui: Yes! I’ll ask the waiter for a fork...

Ruki: No need. You are already holding one in your hand, no?

You can use that one.

Yui: B-But, then I’ll have to...

Ruki: What? You can’t...?

Yui: It’s not impossible but...

Ruki: ...You won’t claim it’s embarrassing, right?

You’ve already directly accepted my fangs with your body, yet this much is enough to make you feel shame?

If you don’t like the idea, you don’t have to share with me. I’m not that interested after all.

Yui: I do think it’s embarrassing, but I want you to be able to have a taste as well.

Ruki: Hmph...In that case...You know what to do, right?

Yui: ( Uu...I guess having him on your side can still cause trouble at times... )

*TIMESKIP*

ー They leave the cafe

Waiter A: Thank you very much for your visit!

Yui: That was so good! I’m glad we came.

Ruki: Yeah.

Yui: Say, Ruki-kun. Where are we headed next? 

Ruki: Wherever you want. We are just killing time until it’s time after all.

*Clap clap clap*

Clown A: Gather around, everyone! A spectacular show is about to begin!

Everyone interested should head to Saint Nore Park right away! A fun time awaits ahead!

Yui: Saint Nore Park...? I wonder what kind of show they’re talking about?

Ruki: Want to go take a look if you’re curious? We still have time.

Yui: Yeah!

ー The scene shifts to Saint Nore Park’s venue

Yui: What a crowd...I guess the show will take place around here?

Ruki: Oi, Livestock, don’tーー

*Thud*

Yui: Ah...!

Female Vampire D: Watch your step! Be careful!

Yui: S-Sorry...

Ruki: ...Haah.

*Rustle*

Ruki: Don’t wander around without permission from your Master. Who do you think has to go through trouble if you were to get yourself lost?

Yui: Sorry...

Ruki: If you truly feel guilty, make sure to stick by my side from here on out. I don’t want to get into trouble either.

Yui: Y-Yeah...

( However, aren’t we a little too close right now...? )

ー The crowd cheers

Magician A: This concludes our marionette act. 

We had some close calls with the threads getting entangled, but those kind of ‘small’ incidents are part of the act’s charm!

Yui: ( That’s not a laughing matter...! )

Magician A: Well then, let’s move to the next show time!

I need an assistant for this next act...So could I ask for a volunteer?

Yui: Fufu, this kind of stuff often happens, huh?

Ruki: Usually the assistant is decided upon beforehand though.

Yui: Oh come on...

Magician A: Hm...Let’s see...Ah!

Yui: ( ...Eh? Did our eyes meet just now? )

Magician A: The young lady over there. Would you be willing to help me out?

Yui: ( I knew it...! )

Ruki: ...Are you referring to her?

Magician A: Why of course! I just felt like this is fate.

I feel like my act will definitely succeed if she helps me out. Unlike the one from before.

Ruki: ...I’m sorry, but I can’t hand her over.

Magician A: Eeh? Please don’t say that...Say, young lady? How do you feel about this?

Yui: Me? I...

Selection

→ I want to give it a try

Yui: I guess I kind of want to...give it a shot.

Magician A: See? Did you hear that?

Ruki: ...You fool.

Yui: Eh...!?

( Is he upset...!? )

→ Ask Ruki-kun (☾)

Yui: Ruki-kun...What should I do?

Ruki: ...If you want to try it, you should.

Yui: Thenーー

Ruki: Which is what I’d love to say. But I cannot give you permission this time.

Yui: ( He seems really insistent about it... )

Is there a specific reason, Ruki-kun?

Ruki: ...You know very well that you’re surrounded by Vampires right now, don’t you?

Vampires don’t die so easily. Therefore, even if they make a small blunder, they can just cover it up as being part of the show.

If anything, I heard that sometimes they will mess up on purpose to get a stronger reaction from the audience. I assume that was the case in the previous act as well.

Even if it is something which could usually cost a person their life, for a Vampire who doesn’t die very easily, they can simply laugh it off.

However...You are different. If a mistake were to occur, you’d die.

How could I let you go through with this...knowing very well that is the case?

Yui: ( Come to think of it...Earlier everyone laughed when he said there was a close call as well. )

( If an incident were to happen again while I’m helping out... )

Ruki: Do you still want to give it a try after hearing all of this?

Yui: ...I don’t...

Ruki: Figured as much.

Magician A: Hello? Have you made up your mind?

Ruki: It was obvious from the very start. She can’t help. If you need someone to assist you, you’ll have to try your luck somewhere else.

Magician A: Not even a little? All she has to do is stand there.

Ruki: The answer is no.

Magician A: ...I suppose you leave me with no other choice then.

ー The magician pulls Yui his way

*Thud*

Yui: Ow...!

Ruki: ...Oi!

Magician A: Oh come on, it’ll be over in the blink of an eye.

Yui: ( This person is incredibly strong...! )

P-Please stop...!

Magician A: Don’t be scared. Even if a mishap occurs, we don’t die, do we?

Yui: ( He’s mistaking me for a Vampire!? Because my scent has faded due to the drug...!? )

Ruki: Oi! Let go of her right noーー!

*Thud*

Ruki: ...!? What are you two doing!?

Clown A: No, no...You shouldn’t interfere with the show!

Clown B: We know that you’re worried about her, but this is all for the sake of the Carnival, okay? Can’t you work with us for a bit?

Ruki: Cut the crap!! Kuh...!

Magician A: Well then, everyone! Please behold! What I would like to demonstrate on this lovely little lady isーー

A knife-throwing show!!

Yui: ( Knives...!? )

Magician A: There are three numbers written on the target behind her. I shall throw the knives towards those in order.

If I manage to hit all three without messing up...I would very much appreciate a grand applause from you all!

Yui: ( No way...The number behind me? They’re near the face...!? )

No! Ruki-kun...!

Ruki: Kuh...! Let me go...!

Clown A: Ah~ Yeah, yeah, stop moving!

Clown B: Don’t worry, it’ll only sting a little at worst.

Ruki: ...Only sting a little, you say...?

...Don’t be ridiculous!!

Magician A: Well thenーー Starting with the first one!

Yui: ...!!

ー She closes her eyes

Yui: ( Ruki-kun...! )

Ruki: ...Yui!!

*Thud*

ー She opens her eyes again

Magician A: ...Oh dear?

Clown A: Oh my! Such strength!

Clown B: There were two of us, but he still escaped our grip.

Ruki: ...Are you okay, Yui?

Yui: Ruki-kun...

( I had my eyes closed so I didn’t see what happened but...Ruki-kun saved me...? )

( ...The knife hit exactly the place I was standing up till now...!? )

( If Ruki-kun hadn’t come to my rescue, right now, I would have been...! )

...! Ow...!?

Ruki: Oi, what’s wrong? Don’t tell me, did the knife...!?

Yui: I’m okay...Seems like it only scraped my arm...But, it’s bleeding...

Spectator A: ...Hm? This scent...

Spectator B: A human! There’s a human here! But, this is...!

Spectator C: What a delicious fragrance! It’s coming from that young lady...!

Ruki: Che...Oi, press down onto your arm! We have to run!

ー The two of them run away

ーー TO BE CONTINUED ーー

Translation notes

(1) Literally he says that she is ‘making her back round’, implying that she is standing somewhat leaning forward as if you are trying to make yourself small, with your head bowed downwards.

← RETURN TO CHAPTER 1

→ PROCEED WITH MAIN STORY [CHAPTER 3]

→ SUB-SCENARIO #1 [W/REIJI]

→ SUB-SCENARIO #2 [W/ KANATO]

→ SUB-SCENARIO #3 [W/ AZUSA]

[hysterialevi]

Hjarta | Chapter 7

Fanfic summary: In an AU where Eivor was adopted by Randvi’s family instead, he ends up falling in love with the man his sister has been promised to despite the arranged marriage between their clans.

Point of view: third-person

Pairing: Sigurd Styrbjornson x Male Eivor

This story is also on AO3 | Previous chapter | Next chapter

FIVE DAYS LATER

BJORNHEIMR, THE TEMPLE

Eivor cradled the basket in his hand, meticulously examining its contents to ensure that everything was in order.

At the moment, he was preparing to make an offering to Thor as thanks for their good fortune on the day of the ambush, and had arranged a humble collection of different gifts for the mighty god.

Inside the basket, he had placed a variety of meat, beer, mead, sweets, and a dagger from his own personal armory. Normally, Eivor wasn’t the type to depend entirely on the gods for safety, but considering recent events, he wanted to secure a strong relationship with them in case a tempest were to strike the village. He had no idea if Kjotve was planning any other attacks in addition to the ambush, and he could think of no one better to appeal to other than the Defender of Midgard. 

He just worried that his offering might not have been sufficient. It was a well-known fact that the thunder god enjoyed things in great quantity, and Eivor didn’t have that much to give at the moment. Ingrida always said that no offering was too small, but even then, the man prayed that his gift wouldn’t be considered measly. Things were precarious enough in Bjornheimr as it was; Eivor did not wish to vex the gods as well.

Working his way up the hill, the Wolf-Kissed spread a layer of cloth over the basket’s opening and held it tightly underneath his arm, careful not to disturb its contents.

He could hear the drinks sloshing inside their bottles to the rhythm of his footsteps, and a handful of scattered clinks reached his ears as they softly bumped into each other. Meanwhile, tiny snowflakes began to gather on the fabric lying above, and sunk into the cloth’s neatly-knit threads. They dotted the surface with jeweled specks of ice and clung onto Eivor’s skin, giving him a slight chill. 

The weather wasn’t exactly ideal for spending any time outside -- the snow seemed to be piling up higher than usual today -- but the young man carried on with his plan nonetheless. 

Reaching the top of the hill, Eivor strolled past the charms decorating the sides of the path, only to stop in his tracks when a nearby pair of voices caught his attention.

Up ahead, Eivor saw Ingrida and Sigurd talking with each other underneath the roof of the temple, just barely avoiding the snow that came blowing their way. The prince wore a wary expression on his face and spoke to the seeress about a matter of deep concern, causing a sense of anxiety to swell in Eivor’s chest.

It was fairly clear to the Wolf-Kissed that his friend spent a lot of energy concealing the many troubles in his life, but the fact that he felt the need to reach out to their völva worried him to a significant degree.

He hadn’t seen Sigurd ever since their conversation in the tavern after all, and he was oblivious to any new issues that may have risen during their time apart. It was unusual to see the prince in such a state, and Eivor had to admit that his curiosity was beginning to get the best of him.

He only hoped that Ulfar wasn’t the source of his perturbed nature. The man made his feelings about Sigurd quite plain back in the tavern, and Eivor had never known him as a person to shy away from confrontation. It was a blessing of a trait in most situations, but a hinderance in this one.

“...You’re certain there’s no other explanation?” Sigurd asked, clearly unhappy with the response he got.

Ingrida crossed her arms, reiterating her point. “I will tell you the same thing I told Eivor. I cannot speak in absolutes, for I do not know the gods’ intentions. I can attempt to decipher the messages they convey, but ultimately, it is impossible to offer anything unambiguous.”

The prince let out a troubled sigh. “I... I see.”

“I realize this must be disturbing news, but look at it this way. At least you are prepared now. You have an inkling of what to expect, and sometimes, a mere suspicion can be enough to save one’s life. Obviously, I do not mean to stoke any paranoia within you, but a little caution would be wise.”

Sigurd nodded, taking the woman’s words to heart. “Of course, but you understand if I say this is difficult for me to accept. I don’t doubt your prediction, seeress, but... I just can’t fathom why anyone would--”

The man came to an abrupt pause, stopping mid-sentence when his eyes fell upon Eivor in the distance.

“--Oh,” he said, his voice still laden with unease, “Eivor. I didn’t see you there.”

Ingrida followed Sigurd’s line of sight, smiling in the Wolf-Kissed’s direction. “Ah, hello, little cub.” She eyed the basket in his hands. “Come to make an offering?”

Eivor hugged the object close to his chest, admittedly growing somewhat weary of bearing its weight.

“Yes, seeress. I hoped to thank Thor for our survival in the forest.”

The woman appeared pleased. “An excellent idea. Go on and present your gift to the gods. I will ensure that nothing disturbs it.” Ingrida brought her eyes back to the prince. “As for you, Sigurd, try not to let this revelation suppress you. You are a man of many responsibilities. Your clan needs you to stay focused.”

“...Of course. You’re right.”

“I’m glad you understand.” Ingrida began making her way back inside the temple, strolling through the arch. “This war is nearly over, but the battle has not ceased. Do not surrender just yet. Either of you.”

Shutting the door behind her, the seeress disappeared behind the temple’s walls and returned to her duties, leaving Eivor and Sigurd alone. Meanwhile, the younger man approached his friend and glanced at him in an inquisitive manner, hoping to calm his nerves somewhat.

“Sigurd?” He asked. “Are you alright? A cloud of unrest hangs over you.”

The prince took a moment to gather his thoughts, not wanting to alarm his companion too much. “I’m... I’ll be alright. Don’t worry about me.” He glanced at the basket in his grasp. “What’ve you got there?”

Eivor lifted the cloth. “Just some food and drink for Thor, and a blade as well. I figured I should bring something of great quantity considering our luck that day. What about you? What brings you to the temple? You looked... frightened when I arrived.”

Sigurd sauntered towards the other man, speaking as he walked. “Nothing of immediate urgency. I’ve just been having these strange dreams lately. Visions.”

“Visions? Really? Of what?”

“A wolf.” He answered. “At first, I merely dismissed the dream as a simple nightmare, but it’s been occurring over and over again. In the same way, and in the same order. So, I came to Ingrida for answers.”

Eivor’s interest was hooked. “Tell me about this wolf. What did it do? What did it look like?”

“The wolf was as white as snow,” Sigurd described. “Its eyes split the darkness with a predatory glare, and its stature challenged that of a fully grown man. Its snout and teeth were stained red with the pigment of fresh blood, and hiding behind its features, I... I could almost... recognize someone.”

“Recognize?” Eivor repeated. “What do you mean? This was a wolf, was it not? How could it resemble a human?”

The prince shrugged. “I have no idea, but... I felt it. There was something familiar about the wolf’s face. It was a sensation that I have no proper words to describe.”

The young man tilted his head towards the temple. “And? What did Ingrida have to say about these visions?”

Sigurd was quiet for a second, hesitant to tell the truth.

“...She believes this vision foretells a betrayal.”

Eivor’s eyes widened in surprise. “A betrayal? At whose hands?”

“She doesn’t know, and neither do I. I have no reason to suspect anyone just yet, but somehow, that almost makes it even worse.”

“How did the seeress come to this conclusion?” Eivor questioned. “What makes her believe betrayal is the only answer?”

“Because she had a similar vision,” Sigurd explained. “Ingrida tells me the gods sent her a dream the night before I arrived. Apparently, she saw a man who looked just like me. He bore the same mark upon his neck, and his eyes glowed with a raging fire. The ground beneath him was soaked in blood dripping from the stump of his own arm, and standing behind him was another white wolf, prowling in the shadows.”

A thought crossed Eivor’s mind. “...I suppose that explains why she called you ‘the one who walks with Tyr.’ It also explains why she was skeptical of you when you first met.”

“I suppose it does,” the prince agreed. “But what connection could I possibly have with Tyr? And why me? What makes me so special?”

Eivor shrugged. “I don’t know. You mentioned you used to have dreams about a kingdom constructed of iron when you were a child. Do you think that could be related?”

“...Perhaps? But I don’t see how it would fit into all this. The kingdom I saw looked nothing like any of the places I’ve ever heard about. Not Helheim, and certainly not Valhalla. It likely originates from a place beyond this realm, but the purpose of its existence continues to elude me.”

Sigurd sighed deeply, resting his hands on his hips. “...Forgive me. I don’t mean to dump all of this onto you. You probably have enough on your shoulders.” He switched to a lighter subject, deciding to put his fears to rest for the time-being. 

“How have you been, Eivor? Is your wound feeling any better? I planned to check on you multiple times, but I fear that my duties always got in the way.”

“No worries. It’s just started to heal. Ingrida says it’s going to leave quite a prominent scar in its absence, but well, it’s better than dying.”

A smirk twinkled on Sigurd’s face. “...I like it.”

“Really?”

“Why not? It gives you character. It makes you look like a warrior.”

Eivor chuckled. “That, or a fool who wasn’t able to handle himself in a fight.”

Sigurd’s smile only brightened. “Nonsense. Each scar you bear is a battle that you survived. Wear it with pride.” He patted his friend on the arm. “But enough about that. I was actually planning to visit you after speaking with the seeress.”

The Wolf-Kissed quirked a brow. “What for?”

“I wanted to take you up on your offer. For fishing. I was down at the docks earlier today, and saw some decent-looking fish roaming in the water. Still in the mood for it?”

Eivor nodded, grinning joyously at the man. “Without a doubt. We can find a boat and take it into the fjord. There are plenty of spots I can show you. Just let me finish my offering for Thor first.”

“Of course. I’ll meet you there when you’re ready. In the meantime, I’ll gather some supplies. See you soon.”

~~~~~~~~~~

A WHILE LATER

THE DOCKS

Pacing eagerly towards the pier, Eivor strolled excitedly through the village with an unusual spring in his step, smiling to himself as he briskly made his way past all the other buildings.

It had been a while since he last got the chance to spend any time with Sigurd, and he imagined that the two of them would have plenty of catching up to do. Even though they hadn’t bumped into each other for the past few days, Eivor always spotted the prince zipping back and forth around Bjornheimr, tending to his never-ending list of duties.

The man always looked so busy. Eivor was well-aware that a prince’s life wasn’t nearly as laid-back as other people expected, but even Sigurd’s schedule seemed to be overflowing with a ludicrous amount of responsibilities. He hardly had any time to even sit down, and the sockets around his eyes had darkened slightly due to a lack of sleep.

Eivor just hoped Sigurd was okay.

Finally arriving at the docks, the Wolf-Kissed came to a halt and gazed at this surroundings, trying to single out the prince’s head of red hair from the crowd. He eventually located the tall man standing at the edge of the pier with a basket and a pair of fishing rods, but to Eivor’s surprise, he wasn’t alone.

Dag seemed to have also joined the party, in spite of the sour expression plastered on his face. He was conversing with Sigurd in an agitated tone, and his brow had crinkled in a manner that displayed obvious annoyance. Strangely enough though, the prince didn’t appear to mirror his temperament. 

Just what was going on?

“Sigurd!” Eivor called out, causing both of them to turn their heads.

“Ah,” Sigurd replied radiantly, “Eivor. There you are. I was just asking Dag if he wanted to join us. I hope that’s not a problem?”

The younger man would’ve been lying if he said he wasn’t somewhat disappointed, but he didn’t have the heard to tell him “no.” He knew Dag was a close friend of Sigurd’s after all, and he didn’t want to interfere. But still... part of him had been looking forward to spending the day with the prince alone.

“No,” Eivor lied, “not at all. He can come if he likes.”

“Great.” Sigurd brought his gaze to Dag. “So, what do you say? Care to go fishing with us?”

To Eivor’s relief, the man refused.

“I appreciate the offer,” Dag said flatly, “but I can’t accept. I have other things to do. You two go on without me.”

“Are you sure?” Sigurd asked, somewhat put off by his friend’s dour mood. “The weather has calmed down since this morning. Now’s the perfect opportunity to take a break. We’ll only be gone for a short while.”

Dag nodded in a dismissive fashion. “Yes, I’m sure. I have many things to take care of, and I’m afraid they cannot wait. Like I said, you two can go without me.”

Sigurd’s eyes dimmed at his friend’s response. “...Well, alright. If you’re certain.”

“I am. Now, if you’ll excuse me...” 

Storming off like a pouty toddler, Dag practically stomped away from the scene and swiftly made himself scarce, leaving Sigurd and Eivor with an uncomfortable silence. The two of them watched in confusion as the man disappeared in the distance, and not too longer after he vanished, they exchanged glances with each other, bewildered by what just happened.

“What was that about?” Eivor asked. “Is something wrong with Dag?”

Sigurd sighed in frustration, reaching down to grab the basket. “You know what? I’ve been asking myself the same thing. Dag’s been acting this way ever since the feast, and I don’t know why. This kind of behavior is unusual for him.”

“Have you talked to him?”

The older man lifted the basket onto his shoulder, walking towards the end of the pier as Eivor followed him from behind.

“Not yet, no. And even if I did, I’m not sure he would give me a straight answer. Dag’s never been the type to open up so easily. I’m just wondering if it’s because of something I did.”

His friend was quiet for a moment. “Does Dag always behave like this?”

Sigurd shook his head. “No, actually. He’s still the same man I know most of the time, but... recently, he’s been going through these random bouts of anger. And they’re always directed at me.”

The prince placed the basket down on a boat waiting beside the pier, carefully stepping onto it as it gently bobbed up and down with the water’s movement.

“I just wish he would talk to me. Dag is a dear friend of mine, and I don’t want anything to be wedged between us. Especially not after hearing Ingrida’s prediction.”

Eivor gave him a sympathetic look. “Try not to let it worry you. I’m sure Dag’s just stressed out from the constant battling with Kjotve. I know we all are. He’ll open up to you when he’s ready.”

Sigurd let out a breath. “...I hope so. I have enough on my plate at the moment. I don’t have time to be running around in circles with Dag. The sooner he opens up, the better.” 

He suddenly glanced up at his companion, deciding to leave the subject alone. “But push that aside. You came here to fish, not to listen to my life problems. Are you ready to go?”

The younger man stepped off the dock and took a seat across from Sigurd, excited for the ride ahead.

“Ready when you are.”

“Wonderful. Thank you for coming with me, by the way, Eivor. I apologize if I seem more stern than usual. I fear that this past week taken a toll on me.”

Eivor took no offense. “There’s no need to apologize. We’re all going through a lot. It’s only normal. Just try to forget about it for now.”

“I’m glad you understand. You seem to be the only one these days. But... you’re right. Today is a day meant for relaxing. Let us not spoil it. Come on, why don’t you show me those fishing spots you mentioned? I’m eager to see them.”

The Wolf-Kissed grabbed the oar and smirked at Sigurd, pushing their boat away from the pier. “As you command, my prince.”

~~~~~~~~~~

BJORNHEIMR, THE FJORD

Venturing deep into the fjord’s divine embrace, Sigurd and Eivor traversed across the water’s glassy surface, steadily gliding along with its rippled waves. They made sure not to put too much distance between them and the village as they did with the waterfall, but even then, the sheer size of the fjord was enough to make them feel as if they had stepped into another world.

All around them, mountains extended into the sky for what seemed like miles, and appeared to kiss the base of the clouds. Their peaks were frosted with fresh snow that floated down from the heavens, and their base remained concealed beneath the ocean, forming a basin fit for the gods themselves.

Meanwhile, a thin curtain of fog draped itself over the mountains’ rugged forms and obscured the landscape waiting ahead, encompassing the world in a layer of mist that stood as a barrier between the two men and the secular village they left behind.

It was the perfect place to clear one’s thoughts, and Eivor could see that Sigurd was already beginning to unwind. The disquieted expression that once hung on his face had vanished, and at the moment, he was currently sitting peacefully on the boat, watching contently as fish poked their fins out from the water’s surface. 

They were completely alone out here, and Eivor wouldn’t have had it any other way.

“So,” the younger man said, “what’ve you been doing these past few days? I haven’t had the chance to talk with you in a while.”

“Oh, nothing too exciting,” Sigurd answered, leaning back in his seat. “I’ve joined your father and Ulfar at the war table quite a few times now, and I’ve also been getting to know Randvi more. It’s difficult to juggle between the two, but things have been going according to plan so far.”

Eivor threw a puzzled look at him. “What about your father? Does he not take part in your conversations in the war room?”

The other man hesitated for a second. “Oh, h-he does, but... well, he’s been occupied lately. Sometimes I take his place.”

Eivor couldn’t deny that he found the response a bit odd, but he decided not to pry any further. “I see. And what about Ulfar? I hope he hasn’t given you any trouble.”

It was Sigurd’s turn to be confused now. “Ulfar? No, none at all. Why would he?”

The Wolf-Kissed sighed sheepishly, unsure of how to explain. He assumed Ulfar would have already expressed his concerns to the prince about his ability to be a leader, but evidently, he was wrong. 

“I, well... I suppose there’s no harm in letting you know. The day you and I went to the tavern, Ulfar stayed for a drink after you left. Initially, he was in a rather foul mood, and it was directed at you. He said you almost got me killed in the forest.”

A look of guilt spread across Sigurd’s face. “...Ah, I see.”

“I spoke with him, though,” Eivor reassured. “I convinced Ulfar it wasn’t your fault, and he told me he’d withhold any further judgement for now. That’s why I asked if he had given you any trouble. I was curious to know if he still harbored these doubts. But don’t let it bother you. Whatever Ulfar does, it’s only to keep me and my siblings safe.”

Sigurd shook his head in disagreement. “No, he’s right. I should’ve been more careful that day. I made a foolish decision, and you nearly paid the price. It’s a good thing you’re a skilled warrior. Otherwise, I’d probably be responsible for your death by now.”

Eivor’s expression sank with pity. “Don’t say that. It’s not your fault what happened in the woods that day. You could’ve run off at the first sign of danger, but instead, you risked your life to save me. And everyone knows it. Even Ingrida.”

“Well, I may not be at fault,” the man conceded, “but I was ill-prepared for such an ordeal. If I’m going to be king someday, I need to be able to protect people. That includes you.” Sigurd shifted his position slightly, sitting more upright. “I promise, Eivor, I won’t endanger you like that again.”

The young man grinned. “I appreciate it, but we’re in the midst of a war. I’m afraid we don’t have much choice. Anything can happen at any time.”

“True, but I’ll still do everything I can to keep you and your people safe.” Sigurd displayed a small smile. “Death may be inevitable, but that’s no reason to let it take us so willingly. That’s why we have shields.”

Eivor chuckled. “I suppose you’re right.”

The two of them trailed off into silence briefly, only for the prince to bring up another topic.

“Hey, speaking of Ulfar, did you hear his report?”

“No.” Eivor said.

“Well, apparently, he and his men found two camps in the woods not too far from where we were attacked. They both belonged to Kjotve.”

“Really? How many men were there?”

Sigurd conjured a rough estimation. “About ten each.”

“Ten?” The Wolf-Kissed repeated in alarm. “That’s nearly two dozen in total. That’s enough men to carry out a small raid.”

“Indeed. We’re lucky Ulfar was able to drive them out before their numbers grew anymore. Thankfully though, he didn’t uncover any plans to attack Bjornheimr. He believes these particular men were just scouts sent here to keep an eye on the village and send information back to Kjotve. Our encounter with them wasn’t coordinated. A few of his people simply decided to take matters into their own hands.”

Eivor found some comfort in that. “Well, that’s a relief, at least. Still, I wonder how Kjotve will respond to this.”

Sigurd raised a brow. “What do you mean?”

“If these men were sending regular reports to Kjotve, he’s going to realize something’s wrong when they come to a sudden stop. He might even send reinforcements.”

The older man couldn’t help but admit he had a point. “Hmm. That does sound likely. I’ll have to warn your father and Ulfar about the possibility of retaliation. We may be preparing for a wedding, but Freya knows that won’t stop Kjotve from spilling blood.”

A shiver traveled down Eivor’s spine. “What if... what if he comes to Bjornheimr? What do you think we’ll do?”

The answer seemed fairly clear to Sigurd. “We’ll fight, of course. What else?”

“No, no,” his friend corrected, “I didn’t quite mean it like that. I just...” Eivor gazed down at his father’s axe, tracing a hand down its grip, “...I’ve spent so many years thinking about how I would take my revenge on Kjotve; for what he did to my parents. I’ve convinced myself that I’d slit his throat without a second thought, but... if he actually shows up, I don’t know if it’ll be that easy. I don’t know what I’ll do.”

A sense of empathy softened Sigurd’s eyes. “It won’t be easy. But whatever happens, make sure you fight for what matters. Ideally, Kjotve will never set foot on your shores, but if he does, fight not for revenge. Fight for the honor your father lost. Only then can you know true peace.”

Eivor stared aimlessly at the water surrounding them, trying to block out the memories of that horrible night. “...I’ll try. Even if it kills me.”

The younger man watched the soothing rhythm of the waves dancing around them and fell into a deep train of thought, only to be pulled out again when Sigurd’s voice reached his ears.

“Hey,” he said gently, leaning closer to his companion, “are you alright, Eivor?”

The Wolf-Kissed blinked a few times, still somewhat lost in his own past. “Yes. I’m fine. It’s just... difficult to think about, you know. My parents were killed over a decade ago, and yet, their words from that night remain fresh in my head. It’s hard to ignore them sometimes.”

“Of course,” Sigurd replied. “I understand.”

“Anyway,” Eivor said, not wishing to dwell on the grim subject any longer, “you mentioned you’ve been seeing Randvi more earlier. How are things going between the two of you?”

“We still don’t know each other that well,” Sigurd confessed, “but she strikes me as a kind woman; an honorable one. I think we can make this marriage work. Although, I must admit... it’s bizarre to think about how she’ll be my wife in only a week from now. The future felt so far away when I first got here, and yet, these past seven days have fleeted by within a heartbeat. It just makes me wonder how fast the wedding will arrive.”

Eivor caught onto his tone. “Are you nervous?”

“Yes, and so is Randvi. But I think we’re both slowly coming to terms with it.” A glint of curiosity formed in the prince’s gaze. “What about you, Eivor? Have you ever considered marriage?”

The man laughed. “Me? No, not really. I’ve had partners in the past, but... nothing serious. It’s difficult to imagine someone marrying me, if I’m being honest.”

Sigurd scoffed. “Psh. Nonsense. Anyone would be lucky to have you as their spouse.”

“You think?”

The older man shrugged. “Why not? You’re compassionate, humorous, handsome, and--” Sigurd suddenly froze in shock, utterly embarrassed by his own words.

Meanwhile, Eivor simply gave him an appreciative smirk, undeniably amused by his slip-up.

“You consider me handsome, do you?” He teased.

Sigurd stammered bashfully and brought a hand to the back of his neck, barely able to hold eye contact with the Wolf-Kissed anymore. “Gods above... erm, f-forgive me, Eivor. I... I didn’t mean to--”

“--It’s alright.” He interrupted. “The truth is, I think you’re handsome too.”

The prince paused at Eivor’s remark, calming down somewhat. “You... do?”

Eivor chuckled, leaning forward in his seat. “Yes, you fool. Who wouldn’t? You’re strong, kind, caring, and you...” the young man caught himself before he could say anything else and stopped mid-sentence, abruptly retreating from his comments as Sigurd watched him quietly.

“...No,” Eivor said, his tone much more sullen now. “I can’t do this.”

Sigurd found himself growing concerned. “What’s wrong?”

The other man sighed in despondency, looking shamefully away from his friend. Eivor assured Ingrida that he wouldn’t allow his emotions to interfere with the upcoming wedding, and yet, he had barely been able to stop himself just now.

His thoughts slipped free from his lips as if they carried a mind of their own, and if it weren’t for the fact that everyone’s safety was depending on this alliance, Eivor had no idea how far he truly would’ve gotten. 

His ability to restrain his desires was already being crippled just after a week of knowing Sigurd, and the looming reality of his feelings was enough to send Eivor into a state of panic and loneliness. 

These next few days were going to be nothing but absolute turmoil for him, and sooner or later, he’d have to accept it. He just didn’t know how.

“Sigurd...” Eivor whispered sorrowfully, “...can I be honest with you?”

The older man nodded. “Of course. What’s going on?”

The Wolf-Kissed looked him directly in the eye, taking a deep breath. “...The truth is, ever since we met at that feast, I’ve been infatuated with you.”

Sigurd’s brow furrowed in shock. “...You have?”

“Yes. Whenever we’re apart, I’m always thinking about when I’ll see you next, or how you’re doing. I care about you, and I worry about your well-being despite being no more than an acquaintance.”

The prince knotted his hands together in thought. “And what about when you’re with me?”

Eivor showed a faint smile to him, but its facade was quickly betrayed by the pain in his gaze. “I feel at peace. I feel like nothing in the world can touch us. I feel a certain way that I’ve never felt before with anyone else, and it... it frightens me sometimes.”

The young man continued. “But I can’t allow these feelings to develop any further. No matter how persistent they may be. We’re both bound by our duties, and yours is to secure an alliance with my clan. The only thing I can provide for you is a distraction that you can’t afford.” Eivor slunk back to his end of the boat, hiding inside the shell that he constantly wore. “...I’m sorry, Sigurd. But our relationship can’t go beyond this.”

Sigurd offered nothing other than silence in return and simply delved into his own thoughts, gazing downwards in a desolate manner. It was clear that he mirrored the same affections that Eivor expressed, but he felt even more reluctant to share them now that he knew about the other man’s views.

It was the burden of being a prince, he supposed. Everyone always told Sigurd that his choices were his own, and yet, he was being forced to repress something that others would’ve been more than happy to admit. His life had been nothing more than one big preparation to rule the kingdom someday, but he felt as if he hardly had any control over his own life.

Still, Sigurd knew Eivor was right, and he knew he couldn’t afford to deviate from the path set out in front of him. The war with Kjotve was much bigger than either of them, and everyone’s safety was depending on this alliance.

“I... understand, Eivor.” He said quietly.

The younger man hung his head low, unable to ignore the guilt settling into his mind. “I’m sorry it has to be like this, Sigurd.”

“Don’t be. What you’re doing is noble. Not everyone would have your restraint.”

Eivor’s mood barely lightened at that. “It doesn’t feel noble. But I know it’s necessary.”

Sigurd nodded solemnly, unsure of what to say anymore. “...Indeed.”

Having had enough of this place, the older man took hold of the oar and stuck it into the water, eager to return to solid land.

“We should starting heading back.” He said abruptly, earning a tilt of the head from Eivor.

“Already? Are you sure? We haven’t even been out for that long.”

“I know, but I fear that my free time is rather limited today. An abundance of tasks awaits me in Bjornheimr, and I’m almost certain that my father will require my presence as well.”

Eivor peered at Sigurd with concern, clearly able to see that he had been affected by their conversation.

“Okay.” He agreed tentatively. “If you’re sure.”

“I am. Come on, I’ll row you back to the village. Just sit back and relax.”

Guiding their boat away from the fjord, Sigurd steadily drove them back to the shoreline without uttering another word as Eivor sat quietly on his side, admittedly feeling somewhat remorseful for having dimmed the mood.

Initially, he had been excited to spend more time with the forlorn prince, but now, he wondered if he had made a mistake. It was no question that a special type of bond connected the two of them, and Eivor mentally scolded himself for allowing it to strengthen even further.

At this point, part of him was considering the idea of severing their relationship. It was difficult enough battling the constant temptation that he felt whenever he was with Sigurd, so Eivor thought that, perhaps, it might’ve been best if he simply eliminated the chance for it to show up again.

There would be no need to practice restraint if the prince avoided him altogether. They would be complete strangers just like before, and Eivor wouldn’t have to worry about clashing with his desires on a daily basis.

But... he knew he wouldn’t be able to do such a thing. He cared about Sigurd too much, despite only having known him for a week. That man housed something special within his heart, and the last thing Eivor wanted was to cast it aside.

Still, he didn’t know how he would proceed from here. Sigurd was aware of his admiration now, and any interactions between them would’ve bred nothing but awkwardness.

They both needed some time to get their thoughts in order, and frankly, Eivor was starting to feel grateful that the other man decided to make such a swift exit. He needed to be alone for a while, and it was evident that Sigurd also had plenty to think about himself.

It was one of those moments where Eivor felt the urge to seek out guidance, and he knew exactly who to get it from. 

He just worried that they would tell him precisely what he didn’t want to hear.

~~~~~~~~~~

BJORNHEIMR, THE DOCKS

“Here we are.” Sigurd announced, letting the boat drift towards the pier as he gazed into the distance. “...And it looks like Dag is waiting for me. Just like I expected.”

Eivor stood up from his seat. “What does he want from you?”

His friend put down the oar and climbed back onto the docks, taking their supplies with him. “Nothing. It’s my father who probably wants something. Dag is merely the messenger. I just hope it’s not what I think it is.”

Walking briskly ahead of the other man, Sigurd strode down the wooden pier and made a beeline straight for Dag as Eivor hurried to his side, abandoning the boat. 

A newfound irritation had worked its way into the prince’s usually serene demeanor, and the Wolf-Kissed wondered if he’d finally learn the reason behind Styrbjorn’s aforementioned absence at the war table.

“Dag,” the redhead called out in a firm tone. “What are you doing here?”

The bulky warrior removed himself from the tree he had been leaning on and approached Sigurd, appearing no more pleased than before.

“The king requests your presence at the longhouse.” He informed. “There’s a problem he needs your help with.”

Sigurd sighed in defeat, plopping the basket down in frustration. “Of course he does. Is it the same ‘problem’ as yesterday?”

Dag nodded. “I’m afraid so.”

The prince shook his head angrily. “That drink-addled fool...! He promised me this wouldn’t be an issue. What is he doing now?”

“He’s waiting for you in his chambers. Same as always. I suggest you hurry. He’s in a worse state than usual.”

Sigurd’s face stiffened with ire. “And it’s no one else’s fault but his. What is that man thinking?” He paused for a second, recomposing himself. “...Thank you for letting me know, Dag. Hopefully, we’ll never have to have this conversation again.”

The raider began strolling away from them, pessimistic about the idea. “Hopefully, but not likely.”

Removing himself from the scene, Dag disappeared once again while Eivor took his place, confused as to what just happened. It was quite obvious to him that Styrbjorn seemed to be at the core of this issue, but he hadn’t the faintest idea what the issue was exactly.

“What’s going on?” Eivor asked. “Is your father safe? Do you need any help?”

Sigurd quickly rejected the offer. “No, no. He’ll be fine. He’s just being an idiot. It’s best if I deal with this alone. Believe me.”

The younger man’s curiosity remained fervent, but he decided not to press anymore. The prince was evidently in a state of heightened exasperation at the moment, and Eivor suspected that any further questions would’ve only earned him more animosity.

“...Alright. If you say so. But don’t hesitate to ask for my aid if you need it.”

“Thank you, Eivor. I appreciate it.”

Forcing himself to relax, Sigurd rubbed his temple out of stress and turned to face Eivor, softening the jagged edge of his voice.

“Forgive me. I don’t mean to be so irate, but things are chaotic enough as it is, and my father is only making things worse. He’s ignoring all of his responsibilities, and piling them on my shoulders instead. I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t affecting me.”

Something clicked in Eivor’s head. “So that’s why you’ve been so busy.”

“Yes. That, and a few other things. But those matters are irrelevant right now. The only important thing I have to say is... thank you. For taking the time to come with me today.”

“Of course, Sigurd. You need only ask.”

The older man beamed warmly. “...You truly are a blessing. You know that, Eivor? I genuinely believe you’re the only person I can fully rely on. You’re a man worthy of trust.” He placed his hands on his hips, returning to his usual temperament. “But I’ve idled for long enough. My father’s probably wondering where I am. Feel free to take all the fish we caught. You deserve it for putting up with me today.”

Eivor took the basket in hand, waving goodbye to Sigurd. “Farewell for now, my friend. Take care of yourself. And remember, I’m here if you need me.”

The prince started heading in the direction of the longhouse, returning the wave with one of his own. 

“The same goes to you. I may be busy, but my door’s always open, Wolf-Kissed. I only pray that our next meeting will be under better circumstances. Until then, stay safe. We all need you.”

[ep1cg33k]

The AUs (+Dream and Nightmare) Start a Chat Group

Introduction: Alright, I had a random idea, that amused me. What if these dorks started a chat group. Fair warning, this is coming off of G33kVerse, and will potentially contain spoilers for "Literary Nightmare", and "G33kTale". (Yes, I have finally decided that Literary Nightmare is a part of the multiverse of G33kTale.) Now, to the spoilers: Nightmare has been uncorrupted. Ink isn't there because he is dead. (No, I will not tell you how he died.) G33k has met them. (No, I will not say how, all you need to know is that they meet them.) You have been fully informed, now. So...

Onward to the chat group!

The actual thing itself:

MAGNIFICENTSKELETON25 has joined the chat.

Angy Octopus has joined the chat.

G33k has joined the chat.

WalkingWindowsVista has joined the chat.

WalkingWindowsVista: Who named me that?!

Angy Octopus: Not me.

G33k: Lol.

WalkingWindowsVista: G33k!!!

Angy Octopus: You're only supposed to put one exclamation point. Like this: G33k, it's rude to take people's phones, and do things like that! See?

WalkingWindowsVista: 🙄

Angy Octopus: Rude.

G33k: It wasn't me, I just thought it was funny.

MAGNIFICENTSKELETON25: I THINK I KNOW WHO DID IT.

WalkingWindowsVista: Who?

Angy Octopus: Blue, your caps lock is on.

MAGNIFICENTSKELETON25: I KNOW, IT'S STUCK.

G33k: How? Didn't you just get a new phone?

MAGNIFICENTSKELETON25: YES. I'M STARTING TO THINK I'M CURSED. 😢

WalkingWindowsVista: Answer me, berry!

Angy Octopus: I don't think you're cursed. Maybe you just have a habit of accidentally turning it on.

G33k: Makes sense.

MAGNIFICENTSKELETON25: HOW, THOUGH? I DON'T HOLD THE SHIFT BUTTON THAT LONG.

Angy Octopus: Oh, you turn caps on by holding "Shift"?

G33k: Yeah...?

WalkingWindowsVista: TELL ME WHO CHANGED MY NAME!!!

Angy Octopus: OH, COOL! Now if only I could figure out emojis. :(

G33k: You could get Dream to help you.

Angy Octopus: He's busy helping one of the AUs.

G33k: Oh.

MAGNIFICENTSKELETON25: IF YOU COME TO UNDERSWAP, I COULD HELP YOU! 😁

Angy Octopus: No, it's alright, I can wait on Dream. And while I wait on him, I can figure out some of these things on my own. :)

MAGNIFICENTSKELETON25: IF YOU SAY SO.

oglzy🦴 has joined the chat.

oglzy🦴: sup

G33k: Hello, Classic.

WalkingWindowsVista: WILL SOMEONE PLS TELL ME WHO CHANGED MY NAME!!!!!!!!!

oglzy🦴: wut's the vista's malfunction

MAGNIFICENTSKELETON25: OH RIGHT, I WAS GOING TO TELL HIM WHO I THINK CHANGED HIS NAME!

WalkingWindowsVista: About time!

G33k: Aren't Windows Vistas always malfunctioning? 🤨

oglazy🦴: lol

MAGNIFICENTSKELETON25: I THINK FRESH CHANGED IT. HE'S ALWAYS MESSING WITH YOU, AND IT CERTAINLY WASN'T INK, AS HE...

Angy Octopus: How about we talk about something else?

WalkingWindowsVista: Of course it was Fresh. Why can't that parasite leave me alone?!

Angy Octopus left the chat.

G33k: Why did Nightmare leave?

oglazy🦴: prob hit the wrong button

MAGNIFICENTSKELETON25: I'LL INVITE HIM BACK TO THE CHAT GROUP. 😅

Angy Octopus has joined the chat.

Angy Octopus: Wrong button.

oglazy🦴: called it

Angy Octopus: But, in the process I did find the emoji board! 😄

G33k: 👍

MAGNIFICENTSKELETON25: NOCE.

WalkingWindowsVista: Nice*

MAGNIFICENTSKELETON25: THAT'S WHAT I MEANT, I JUST HIT ENTER TOO SOON.

oglzy🦴: oof

G33k: Mood.

Angy Octopus: All of you are making me feel old.

oglzy🦴: aren't u over 500

Angy Octopus: Maybe.

WalkingWindowsVista: Hey, noot, I found the perfect emojis for you! 🐙👴

Angy Octopus: 😒

oglzy🦴: lol

G33k: Be nice.

Angy Octopus: What does "lol" mean?

MAGNIFICENTSKELETON25: IT MEANS "LAUGH OUT LOUD".

WalkingWindowsVista: What the berry said.

MAGNIFICENTSKELETON25: PLEASE STOP CALLING ME "BERRY". IT'S ANNOYING.

WalkingWindowsVista: Ok, berry.

Angy Octopus: This chat group was a terrible idea.

G33k: I couldn't agree more.

NeighbrohoodSkelepal has joined the chat.

G33k: I stand corrected.

NeighbrohoodSkelepal: Sup, broskis?

WalkingWindowsVista: End me. Please just end me.

NeighbrohoodSkelepal has left the chat.

MAGNIFICENTSKELETON25: THERE. I KICKED HIM OUT. SERIOUSLY, HOW DID HE EVEN GET IN WITHOUT ME INVITING HIM?

Angy Octopus: Don't ask me, I don't even know how to turn down the brightness on this frustratingly difficult to use piece of technology.

G33k: Don't feel bad. For a long time, I couldn't figure out how to make a screenshot.

oglzy🦴: srsly kid

G33k: Yep.

Angy Octopus: Seriously, kid?*

oglzy🦴: wut's wrong with how i'm typing

Angy Octopus: It's a little annoying to me.

WalkingWindowsVista: Says the one who has "Angy" in their name.

Angy Octopus: I didn't name myself this.

WalkingWindowsVista: Then who did?

Angy Octopus: Cross did.

G33k: 😑

G33k: Of course.

Gold Harted Been has joined the chat.

Gold Harted Been: Hello.

MAGNIFICENTSKELETON25: HELLO, DREAM.

Angy Octopus: Dream, your name is spelled wrong.

Gold Harted Been: I know. I meant to fix it, but I've been too busy.

G33k: That name does seem fitting, though.

WalkingWindowsVista: It would be more fitting if it were "Gold Hearted Nuisance".

oglzy🦴: do u have anything that's not rude to say

WalkingWindowsVista: Nope.

Angy Octopus: Can you please refrain from throwing insults at my brother? At least he hasn't been a pile of salt the whole time he's been here, and does something other than sit around in a blank space watching a soap opera AU.

G33k: Oh dang!

oglzy🦴: 10 points to the noot lord

WalkingWindowsVista: Nerd.

Angy Octopus: Vexatious insect.

Gold Harted Been: Please stop fighting.

WalkingWindowsVista: I would've loved to see you still being controlled by that parasitic creature.

Angy Octopus: Fresh is going to get you one of these days, and I'm going to laugh.

WalkingWindowsVista: You and your corrupted self aren't that different.

Angy Octopus: What's that supposed to mean?!

G33k: Error, stop!

WalkingWindowsVista: You're both evil and only want to see others suffer.

Gold Harted Been: Nightmare, don't listen to him.

oglzy🦴: Error, that was uncalled for!

WalkingWindowsVista: Well, it's true. Only someone who's really evil would wish Fresh upon someone, or laugh if they got nabbed by him.

Gold Harted Been: You started it!

MAGNIFICENTSKELETON25: DREAM'S RIGHT. YOU STARTED THE FIGHT BY BEING A JERK TO DREAM, AND HE WAS JUST TRYING TO STAND UP FOR HIM. WHEN PEOPLE ARE MAD THEY SAY THINGS THEY DON'T MEAN. HONESTLY, THE ONLY EVIL ONE WHO'S LIKELY TO BE EVIL HERE IS YOU. YOU DESTROY WORLDS. WHAT HAS NIGHTMARE DONE?

WalkingWindowsVista: He makes people miserable.

Gold Harted Been: No he doesn't! That's just his

Gold Harted Been: I forgot how to spell it.

G33k: Aura?

Gold Harted Been: I think so.

Angy Octopus: Dream, it's fine. There's no need to stand up for me. After all, he's probably right. I'm just going to leave the chat.

Angy Octopus has left the chat.

MAGNIFICENTSKELETON25: GREAT, NOW SEE WHAT YOU DID?!

WalkingWindowsVista: Yup, and I feel no guilt for it. 😎

G33k: Lol, that emoji kinda resembles Fresh.

WalkingWindowsVista: Great... Now I have another thing that parasite has ruined.

oglzy🦴: u do realize wat u might've just done right

WalkingWindowsVista: Upset Nightmare? He'll get over it.

Gold Harted Been: It's not hard for him to get re... Um... Help, I don't know how to spell that.

MAGNIFICENTSKELETON25: RE-CORRUPTED.

Gold Harted Been: Thank you, Blue.

MAGNIFICENTSKELETON25: ANYTIME, FRIEND.

WalkingWindowsVista: I doubt the situation will get that bad.

G33k: You literally did exactly what caused him to get corrupted before.

Gold Harted Been: You know about that?

G33k: Yeah, he told me.

oglzy🦴: well they do talk to each other a lot

Gold Harted Been: True.

WalkingWindowsVista: I still don't think he's going to get corrupted. You got rid of it, right? And he would have to eat more of those weird apples, right?

Gold Harted Been: No.

WalkingWindowsVista: You didn't change him back?

Gold Harted Been: No. He got free on his own.

WalkingWindowsVista: I guess that explains why he could get changed back.

oglzy🦴: energy cannot be destroyed, it can only be changed or transported. so, even if dream had managed to change him back, it likely would've just suppressed the corruption.

MAGNIFICENTSKELETON25: WHAT CLASSIC SAID.

Gold Harted Been: And you say that you're lazy.

oglzy🦴: i'm

MAGNIFICENTSKELTON25: I am*

oglzy🦴: idc

G33k: That doesn't seem very lazy, to me.

oglzy🦴: being lzy doesn't mean i'm not a dork

MAGNIFICENTSKELETON25: YOU STILL TYPED A LOT.

oglzy🦴: who said i typed anything 😏

MAGNIFICENTSKELETON25: AND HERE I THOUGHT THERE MIGHT'VE BEEN HOPE FOR YOU. 😒

G33k: Lol.

Gold Harted Been: I'm going to go check on Nightmare. If I don't say anything for 7 hours, I'm likely a statue.

MAGNFICENTSKELETON25: BE CAREFUL.

G33k: Yes, please do. Being turned into a statue doesn't sound very pleasant.

oglzy🦴: sounds great to me u don't have to do anything

WalkingWindowsVista: You literally CAN'T do anything.

Stabstabstabstabstab has joined the chat.

oglzy🦴: yep that's the point

Stabstabstabstabstab: Point? 🔪🙂

MAGNIFICENTSKELETON25: WRONG KIND OF POINT, KILLER.

G33k: 😐

Stabstabstabstabstab: Is Cross here?

MAGNIFICENTSKELETON25: Why?

Stabstabstabstabstab: No reason.

oglzy🦴: wut's killer doing in the chat

MAGNIFICENTSKELETON25: I INVITED HIM.

oglzy🦴: y

MAGNIFICENTSKELETON25: WHY NOT?

oglzy🦴: he's crazy

Stabstabstabstabstab: He's right.

MAGNIFICENTSKELETON25: HE'S LITERALLY JUST YOU FROM ANOTHER TIMELINE.

WalkingWindowsVista: And you guys were getting onto me for being rude. 🙃 How hypocritical.

G33k: Pu tuhs.

WalkingWindowsVista: ???

G33k: 🙂

WalkingWindowsVista:???

G33k: ...

G33k: What?

WalkingWindowsVista: Did you really just spell "shut up" backwards?

oglzy🦴: i think they did

WalkingWindowsVista: Why?

G33k: To confuse you because I'm bored.

MAGNIFICENTSKELETON25: GREAT GOOGALY MOOGALY THIS HAS ALL GONE TO SHOE!!!

oglzy🦴: pls tell me u did said "shoe" on purpose

MAGNIFICENTSKELETON25: I WISH I DID.

WalkingWindowsVista: It couldn't have been Fresh, right? He left.

G33k: Yeah, and it would've said it if he rejoined.

Stabstabstabstabstab: It wasn't me.

NeighbrohoodSkelepal: I'm back, mah rad brotato pals! Ya didn't think I'd go that easily, did ya?

WalkingWindowsVista: I'm outta here!

oglzy🦴: i second that

MAGNIFICENTSKELETON25: I FORGOT I HAVE TO MAKE DINNER, SO ME THREE!

G33k: Nope, not staying, either.

WalkingWindowsVista has left the chat.

oglzy🦴 has left the chat.

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This was fun. When the AUs make a chat group, what could possibly go wrong? I'll tell you what: Everything. Everything could go wrong. Yes, this was supposed to be Blue's idea. Classic doesn't care about grammar, Dream can't spell, Nightmare doesn't know how to use anything, G33k is just there. Why did Killer want to know Cross's location? Who knows. This is Killer, he unpredictable. And poor Nightmare, he can't get a moment's peace. Error better be sorry for that. Now, to the credits! Undertale is owned by: Toby Fox   Ink is owned by: Myebi/Comyet Error and Fresh are owned by: TheCrayonQueen/loverofpiggies   Killer is owned by: rahafwabas/rahofy-stetch Dreamtale is owned by: JokuDream/jokublog   Cross is owned by: JakeiArtwork/jakei95 Underswap is owned by: The AU Community (originally popcornpr1nce)   G33kTale and G33kVerse are owned by: Me Feel free to do fanart if you want. Just, send a link, or something. I'd love to see it!

[thatsamericano]

That Thing That Isn’t Biphobia

Pairings/Characters: America/Romano. America and Japan brotp. Mentions of Belmano and past Prumano. Very brief mentions of Giripan, Gerita, and Lietpol. Human AU.

Rating: Teen

Warnings: Mentions of biphobia and violence (though no actual biphobia or violence). Mentions of ace/arophobia from Alfred’s parents, who don’t appear in the story.

Word Count: 3317

Summary: Alfred thinks he’s biphobic because he gets unreasonably angry and upset whenever he sees his roommate having relationships with men or women. He hates himself for being prejudiced against Savino, but an honest conversation with another friend helps him realize his “biphobia” wasn’t biphobia at all.

Note: Prequel to That Thing Where You Fall In Love With Your Best Friend. Inspired by the reddit story of the “straight” guy who fell in love with his gay roommate and mistook his jealousy for homophobia.

Alfred was supposed to be eating lunch with Kiku today, but after fifteen minutes he had only moved the sushi around the plate with his chopsticks several times. Guilt was gnawing away at his mind, and he couldn’t focus on anything else, even sushi that he knew would be tasty since Kiku had chosen the restaurant this time.

At least he wasn’t nauseous, like he would be when Savino was around his girlfriend.

Emma was perfectly sweet, and Alfred had no reason to dislike her. She was genuinely friendly to him and Tolys, even if her main reason for stopping by the apartment was to spend time with her boyfriend. She and Vinny were affectionate, but they didn’t engage in enough PDA to bother any reasonable person. Yet every time Savino would casually drop his arm around her shoulders and she’d snuggle up to his side, Alfred had to look away to keep his stomach from roiling. Every time he called her some sappy Italian endearment and she giggled and replied to him with something in Flemish, Alfred wanted to drive spikes into his ears just so he’d never have to hear them again. When they kissed in front of him, Alfred felt like screaming or crying, and he didn’t understand why.

The same thing had happened a few months ago when he was hooking up with Gilbert, that albino German dude he’d met because Vinny’s little brother was dating Gilbert’s little brother. Gilbert and Savino didn’t call each other sappy nicknames, because it was just a friends with benefits arrangement, but they did spend a few nights together. One morning, Alfred was in the middle of eating a bowl of Cap’n Crunch when Gilbert emerged from Savino’s room wearing only a pair of boxers. After nearly choking on his cereal, Alfred finished his breakfast as quickly as he could and left the apartment to circle the block five times, which calmed him down enough to refrain from punching some poor guy just for having sex with his roommate. By the time Alfred had returned, Gilbert had left, thank fucking God. But whenever he thought of the things they must have done together or the things Savino had done with Emma, a painful tightness seized Alfred’s chest, and it became extraordinarily difficult to breathe. Even after they had gone back to being just friends, Gilbert liked to visit occasionally, and he liked to tease Savino with comments made him splutter and blush. Every time he saw Savino’s reaction to some comment Gilbert had made, Alfred felt unreasonably angry, and he wanted to wipe that stupid smirk off Gilbert’s face with his fist.

Alfred knew it was wrong. Savino had never judged him for being ace/aro, and Alfred had absolutely no right to judge him for being bi. Savino was an amazing friend and a wonderful roommate, and he deserved all the happiness in the world. He certainly deserved better than living with a biphobic piece of shit like Alfred. What kind of fucked up asshole couldn’t stand to see one of their best friends happy just because the way they were happy was different from what they wanted for themselves?

Alfred hadn’t mentioned a word of how he felt to anyone. He didn’t want to hurt Vinny with this stupid prejudice that came out of nowhere, and he didn’t want everyone in his life to hate him the way he deserved. Savino, of course, wouldn’t want anything to do with Alfred if he knew, and neither would Tolys, who was bi too. All of his friends would be disgusted by the ugly and vicious sentiments Alfred harbored, and he would have to move back in with the shitty parents who thought his asexuality was a silly, immature phase he would grow out of eventually once he really came out of the closet. Even his own twin would want nothing to do with him. Mattie was straight, but unlike Alfred, he was a decent person who would never hate someone for being themselves.

But the sad truth was that he didn’t hate Savino. Vinny didn’t smile that much compared to Alfred, but when he did, it resembled the sun coming through the clouds. When he laughed at Alfred for doing something dumb, Alfred felt giddy, and he wanted to do something even stupider just to hear that beautiful sound again. He was a talented artist and an amazing cook, and Alfred had grown addicted both to Savino’s cappuccinos and to sitting at the counter and chatting with him while he worked. Vinny was like a human space heater, and he always smelled like fancy cologne Alfred wasn’t sophisticated enough to use himself. When they hugged, Alfred never really wanted to let go. The idea of not having Savino in his life was the worst thing Alfred could imagine, so he had to pretend everything was just fine and that nothing had changed.

He was frowning down at his sushi, too heartsick to eat any of it, when Kiku hesitantly spoke up. “Alfred-kun, are you all right? You’ve been unusually quiet, and you haven’t touched your food today.”

Alfred sighed and made eye contact with him. “I’m fine. Just not hungry, I guess.”

Kiku looked worried. “If you aren’t in the mood for sushi, we could go somewhere else. I don’t want you to skip lunch because you were trying to accommodate me.”

Alfred set down his chopsticks, which he hadn’t been using for their intended purpose. “It’s not the sushi, dude. I’ve just been feeling kind of off lately.”

“Off how?”

Alfred hesitated. Kiku was his close friend. In some ways, he understood Alfred better than anyone else because he was asexual too. The only difference was that he was gray-romantic, because he had gotten very close to someone once, and he wasn’t sure if what he’d felt for Herakles years ago was romantic or not.

That meant Kiku might be attracted to guys at least a little. So he would see the way Alfred had reacted to the mere idea of Savino being with a guy as a personal attack, and rightly so. He wouldn’t want to be friends with someone like that, and Alfred couldn’t blame him.

Alfred hunched in on himself and fixed his gaze determinedly on the table top. “You shouldn’t worry about it. It’s a dumb problem, and I need to get over it.”

“But you’re my friend,” Kiku stated plainly. “Of course I’ll worry when you aren’t acting like yourself. I care about you.”

Alfred took a deep breath and blinked his eyes rapidly to stop himself from crying in the middle of a Japanese restaurant, which would unnecessarily embarrass everyone around him. Kiku’s concern only made him feel worse. He didn’t deserve it at all.

“I think I’m a bad person,” Alfred muttered. “I might’ve picked up on some prejudices from my parents, but it’s not like I want to feel this way. And I can’t blame it all on other people. It’s my responsibility to quit being a dick to people for no reason.”

“You’re prejudiced? Against who?” Kiku already sounded annoyed at him, and he hadn’t even heard everything. He’d barely heard anything.

“Bi people, I think. Either that or I just really don’t like Europeans, which isn’t okay either.” Alfred squeezed his eyes shut, dreading Kiku’s reaction.

For a long moment, all Alfred heard was the sound of people at others eating and talking to each other. Finally, Kiku spoke. “Alfred, that doesn’t make any sense.”

“It’s biphobia, dude! Of course it doesn’t make sense.”

“But both your roommates are bi. And European, for that matter.”

Alfred groaned in despair and fisted his hands in his hair. “I know. And if they found out, they’d hate me forever and want nothing more to do with me.” Fuck, if he couldn’t make this go away, he was going to lose two of his best friends. In addition to Kiku, who he’d probably lost already.

“You’ve always seemed so fond of Tolys and Savino.” Weirdly, Kiku didn’t sound pissed off. He sounded like he was trying to reason through a complex math problem. “If you were prejudiced against them, wouldn’t this have come up sooner? You’ve been living with them for years, and you never mentioned having a problem with their orientation before.”

“Because I didn’t have a problem before! I didn’t know I was like this until Vinny started hooking up with that German dude a few months ago. I saw him coming out of Vinny’s bedroom one time, and ever since then I’ve hated Gilbert for no fucking reason.”

“Knowing they’d been together in that way made you uncomfortable?”

Alfred grimaced. “It was more than uncomfortable. More like angry. Really angry. I had to leave the apartment to calm myself down. I still feel like punching something whenever Gil teases him and makes him turn red. And when I think about them doing stuff with each other, my chest feels weird and it’s hard to breathe.”

Alfred dared to glance up at Kiku, who had a carefully neutral expression on his face. “I see. And what about his girlfriend, Emma? She seemed nice when I met her.”

Alfred sighed. “Emma is nice. But it’s a similar deal, only more sappy because they’re an actual couple. I feel queasy when they cuddle on the couch, and I feel so upset when they kiss in front of me, even if it’s not like they’re Frenching for five minutes or whatever. I can’t stand it when I hear them getting all sappy in Italian or Flemish. And I’m just as mad if I think about them having sex, which is why it’s probably biphobia and not homophobia.” Alfred chuckled weakly, disgusted with himself. “Apparently, I’m such a crappy friend I can’t let Savino be happy, even with a girl.” God, Alfred loathed himself.

Kiku’s next question surprised him completely. “How do you feel about Feliks? They’re still with Tolys, aren’t they?”

“Yeah, they are. Feliks is cool. I like hanging out with them. I think I might have accidentally gotten them a little too addicted to Buffy the Vampire Slayer, though.” Alfred smiled fondly at the thought of Tolys’s partner. Feliks was a fun person. Alfred had never had a problem with them.

“Were you ever uncomfortable when they showed affection in front of you?”

Alfred furrowed his brow. “Not that I can think of? But maybe it’s because Feliks and Tolys have been together for a while, so I’m used to it.” They’d been together since before Alfred developed this sudden, unexpected biphobia problem. God, he hoped that he didn’t start hating Feliks too. That would really suck.

Kiku nodded to himself. “I think I’ve figured out what’s going on. And contrary to what you told me, I don’t think you’re biphobic.”

“You don’t?”

“No. I think you’re jealous.”

“But why would I be jealous? Because Vinny goes on dates and hooks up with people, and I’ve never been with anybody? That doesn’t make any sense. I never wanted to be more than friends with somebody.”

Kiku gave him a pitying look. “But I think you do now. I think something must have changed, and now you have feelings for Savino. You were jealous of his most recent partners because you wish you were them.”

For a moment, Alfred was too stunned to say anything. He glanced down at his uneaten sushi. “But I don’t like people that way. I can’t. I never have.” He felt scared because so much of his identity was shifting away underneath him. It hadn’t been easy for Alfred to tell people who he was, especially when he had to explain it to people who wouldn’t inherently understand him the way Kiku did. Not everyone had accepted him. His own parents had made him feel like crap for it. He didn’t want to prove them right, because asexuality and aromanticism weren’t phases.

Every time he told people he was ace/aro, he’d been sure of himself. He’d been more certain of that than anything. But now he didn’t know who he was anymore.

“Alfred, how do you feel about Savino when he isn’t with another person?”

“Just being around him makes me happy. But that could totally be a friendship thing, right? It’s normal to feel happy around your friends. I’m happy around you and Tolys too!” But maybe it wasn’t normal to compare your friend’s smile to the sun or to think that the sound of their laugh was beautiful. Maybe you could enjoy hugging your friends, but something other than friendship was going on if you felt so warm and safe in their arms that you never wanted to let go.

Alfred glanced up into Kiku’s eyes, which were a warm, dark brown, filled with compassion and understanding. He felt calmer looking at his friend’s face, but he didn’t feel enraptured. He didn’t feel mesmerized when he stared into Kiku’s eyes, like he could do nothing but sit across from him and stare at him for hours. He had felt like that with Vinny.

Alfred coughed awkwardly and looked off to the side as he felt heat starting to creep up his neck and over his cheeks. His thoughts were weird, embarrassing, and really confusing.

“How do you feel about the idea of being in a relationship with him?” Kiku asked.

“I hadn’t really thought of it before,” Alfred admitted. “But it doesn’t sound bad.” Not much would change, really. They’d still be close, just in a different way. He’d be the one snuggling up to Vinny instead of Emma, and that would probably feel nice, considering how much Alfred liked hugging him. He’d be the person getting called something like “tesoro,” and the idea of a special nickname made him feel fluttery, just like he felt when Vinny had started calling him “Fredo,” only more intense. And the idea of kissing Savino on the lips instead of just that cheek kissing thing he did with his friends…

Okay, that made Alfred nervous. But not bad nervous, more like “I’m about to go on the biggest rollercoaster at the theme park” nervous. Alfred had always enjoyed the thrill of rollercoasters, the experience of screaming his head off as his heart raced a mile a minute. If kissing could feel like that, then he definitely wanted to kiss Savino. At some point, he might even want to do more than kiss Savino, which wasn’t something he’d ever considered before. The mere fact that he was even thinking about having sex without immediately recoiling said a lot.

Alfred grabbed his drink and quickly slurped up a lot of soda through his straw. He felt like he was about to explode from all the feelings inside him, and the soda helped cool him down a little. He kept a tight grip on the glass afterwards.

“I like him,” he confessed, near tears. “I like Savi so, so much, and I have no idea what this means for me. I don’t understand who I am anymore.”

“You’re the same person you always were, even if you’re discovering something new about yourself. And you’re still my friend. That will never change.”

Alfred released the glass slowly. “Thanks, dude. That means a lot.”

“If you like, I could help you look on the AVEN website sometime. You might not be completely asexual and aromantic, but I’m sure there’s a term out there for what you’re experiencing. It might help you make sense of things.”

“I appreciate that. Don’t get me wrong, I’m really glad I’m not a secretly horrible biphobic asshole, but my head’s kind of a mess right now.”

Kiku chuckled softly. “That’s understandable.”

Alfred finally felt good enough to eat something, so he picked up a piece of sushi with his fingers, since chopsticks were still awkward for him to use, even if he’d eaten with Kiku many times. Fortunately, it wasn’t considered rude to eat sushi with your hands. Alfred chewed his food, and he thought things over. “Vinny has a girlfriend, and he seems really happy with her. Having a crush on him and knowing I have a crush on him is gonna be awkward as hell. Maybe not as awkward as thinking I’m an evil prejudiced monster, but still.”

“I’m sure you’ll manage.”

“I probably shouldn’t tell him that part. But I do want to tell him and Tolys something once I figure all this stuff out. And my brother too. But telling my parents is… God, that’s gonna be a fucking nightmare. They were so shitty to me before, and they’re gonna be really smug and annoying if turns out they were right. I don’t wanna play into stereotypes like that.” Most people who said they were ace/aro didn’t change their minds later, but in his parent’s view, asexuality and aromanticism weren’t real, valid experiences, and any person who said they were asexual or aromantic was lying to themselves and using those labels as a mask for something else. Or maybe they just hadn’t found “the right person.”

Alfred had never intentionally lied about his sexuality, but his parents wouldn’t see it that way. This stupid crush on his roommate was reinforcing stereotypes that hurt people like the really awesome friend who had taken him out to lunch today and helped him realize his feelings, and Alfred felt guilty about that.

Kiku had an uncomfortable look on his face. “It’s not your responsibility to represent all people on the ace and aro spectrums. You have just as much of a right to explore how you feel as anyone else does. I think you should give yourself time to do that and only tell other people about this when you feel ready.”

“Yeah. Yeah, that makes sense. Right now, I don’t even know what to tell people.” Alfred picked up another piece of sushi and started to eat it.

“You told me today. That’s a good start.”

Alfred waited to swallow his bite, and then he gave Kiku a toothy, grateful smile. Kiku smiled back at him, and they finished their lunch together in a much more relaxed mood. Alfred didn’t have the dark cloud of guilt hanging over his head anymore, even if realizing he might be in love with one of his roommates gave him a lot of new things to worry about.

After they finished their food, they split the bill based on what they had ordered. Kiku had to take the bus back to work, so they would part ways outside the restaurant.

Alfred was a little surprised when Kiku inched closer with a shy look on his face and threw his arms around him. He wasn’t normally big on the whole physical affection thing.

Alfred returned the hug and laughed a little. “What’s all this about?”

“After our conversation today, I thought you might need it. Take care, Alfred.”

“Yeah, you too. Talk to you soon, bro.”

Kiku pulled away, nodded, and turned around to start walking to the bus stop. Alfred headed in the opposite direction, and he reflected on what had just happened.

Hugging Kiku was nice, but it didn’t make him feel tingly and floaty like hugging Savino did. Alfred appreciated the hug as a friendly gesture, especially since Kiku wasn’t the world’s huggiest person, but it had been easy to let go of Kiku when he wanted to leave. His arms didn’t feel empty, the way they did when Vinny stepped out an embrace, muttering under his breath about Alfred’s clinginess with a scarlet blush on his face.

Alfred didn’t feel the same way towards Savino he did to his other friends, but that was okay. Alfred was confused and a little scared by everything he’d realized today, but he wasn’t a terrible person, and he would figure things out eventually. He would be okay too.

[scullydubois]

Only the Light: Ch. 15

15/? | AU where Melissa moves in with Scully after Scully’s abduction | angst, msr slow-burn, occasional fluff | currently: Anasazi/The Blessing Way | T | 5k | previous chapters | read on ao3 | tagging: @today-in-fic <3

After shooting Mulder to prevent him from implicating himself in his father's murder, Scully takes Mulder & Melissa on a road trip to Albert Hosteen's Navajo reservation in New Mexico.

TW for mentions of guns/shooting, death, funerals

----------------------------------------------

His eyes flutter open to some place like Heaven, which pisses him off cause that’s not supposed to exist, and if it does, then how in the hell did he make it here? A fiery-haired angel lays a gilded hand upon his chest, her touch made out of air. Tendrils of hair fall against her face, and Mulder wonders where one gets haircuts in Heaven. 

He must be floating on a cloud, so close to the sun that it is stained an earthly golden-yellow. His sky accommodation is not as comfortable as all those Renaissance painters made it look, and for that he feels deceived. Is the soul so solid that it is weighed down, even in Heaven? And if it is, well, doesn’t that defeat the purpose of a soul?

He is fatigued, and it’s bullshit, in his opinion, that he could be dead and still feel anything but blissful numbness. He’s about to voice this particular grievance when he realizes where he is, and sure English is turning into a lingua franca of sorts, but something tells him that God isn’t spending his spare time teaching the angels the difference between too and to. So he keeps his mouth shut, unnerved by not knowing whether he’ll ever be able to speak his mind again. 

“Hey,” a soft voice breathes, and he’s surprised to understand it, but not altogether upset. He tries to respond, but his tongue has tethered itself to the base of his mouth.

“Mulder…” the voice says, and it registers in his mind that it’s not an angel--not technically--but Dana Katherine Scully, and my god, what atrocity has dared to send her to Heaven so damn soon? 

He coughs, then grumbles from deep in his throat. He’s got to be the most undignified person in this joint, and he can only hope his welcome dinner with God isn’t anytime soon. The angel’s hand that is actually his partner’s drifts over his forelock, her fingers guiding his hair back into its part. 

“Mulder, can you hear me?”

He nods, hungry for some sense of things.

“You were shot, Mulder. By me. Because you were acting very stupid.”

She killed him?!? Maybe he shouldn’t be so shocked by this, but he can’t help himself. And she’s here too, so how did that happen? Murder-suicide?

Her hand sweeps his shoulder, and he looks down to see the space where her bullet must have pierced him. Patched up right above his heart. He didn’t expect to carry wounds into the afterlife.

Her eyes meet his, blue as ever. “I’ve been taking care of you, and you’ll be just fine.”

His lips form an O, but no sound follows. 

“Let me get you some water.” Scully disappears from his line of sight, and he realizes that his cloud has a roof and an open door. You can’t see those from the ground.

Scully returns with a plastic water bottle. Deer Park, to be exact--another thing he didn’t expect to find in Heaven. She holds it to his lips, tilting the liquid gently into his mouth. He revels in it, vitality slowly being returned to him.

At last, his tongue functions as it should. “Where are we, Scully?” he asks, his voice creaky. He’s beginning to think it’s not Heaven after all, but the back of his partner’s Chevy. Which feels about as equally likely, if he’s honest.

“At a gas station In Texas, about two miles off I-40,” she answers, twisting the cap back on the bottle. “We’re headed to a Navajo reservation in New Mexico.”

Met with the realization that his life is not, in fact, over, Mulder tries to piece together the last moments he can remember. He squints, the sun outside the vehicle colliding with the darkness in his brain. He remembers a fever and a bed that was not his. 

“Did I sleep in your bed?” he asks, fairly confident that more important things before and after have slipped his mind.

“You did indeed,” Scully replies. And before he can get to it--”Melissa and I shared.”

“Ah.” He pushes himself up, every muscle in his arms rebelling. 

Scully pats his shoulder. “You should stay reclined.”

“I’m like a whale in a fish bowl back here,” he protests. And he’s not wrong, Scully knows this. To fit him in, she leaned his head against the driver’s side windowsill and let his bare feet push against the passenger side door, then said a silent prayer that there would be no potholes. 

“Why can’t I come up front?” he whines. “I’ll lean the seat back.”

“Because Missy’s sitting there.”

Mulder glances into the front, his expectations of privacy shattered. Still, an empty passenger’s seat meets his gaze. “Well, where is she then?” he pesters, more pointed than intended.

Scully chuckles. You can put a hole in the man’s chest, but you can’t take the restlessness out of him. “She’s inside getting snacks.” Scully smiles at her partner, fondness flowing out in a way she rarely lets it. He’s been out for a couple days now--and while she was closely monitoring him and knew he was okay--she’s so glad that he has come back to her. “Do you want sunflower seeds?” she asks with a sparkle in her eyes.

He nods. “Sp--”

“Spitz.” The moments that have gotten them there, that have indebted her with that knowledge, flash through her mind. “I know.”

And it feels almost prophetic, to Mulder, that she does.

--------------------

The plains of North Texas roll past them, headlights and moonlight meeting in a demure embrace. The two-lane road bears a great resemblance to many they’ve gone down in days past. There’s no one else in sight. 

Mulder has been relieved of his back seat duties, taking Melissa’s place at the passenger side so she could get some sleep. He’s slipped on the shirt Scully swiped from his apartment, a Knicks 1990 tee that she must have found in the corner of the living room where he throws his dirty clothes. He wonders if she even packed anything for herself before she hightailed it out of the city.

He couldn’t have imagined that punching Skinner would lead to his father dead, him shot by his partner, and them on the run across the country. And yet, there’s no place he’d rather be. The desert gifting them with a stunningly clear night, he’s opened the car’s sunroof and kicked back to stare up at the stars. The radio having long turned to static, quiet permeates the car.

“I’d gladly live in the middle of nowhere if I got this view every night,” Mulder remarks, drinking in the night sky.

Scully glances at him. There’s a rogue part of her brain that hoped he’d be looking back at her. Alas, the sky is his mistress. 

They continue barreling down the highway, about seven hours out from their destination.  The speedometer reads 87 mph...Scully is prone to speeding when she can get away with it.

“Keep it up and we’ll beat the sunrise,” Mulder jests. 

“That’s the plan.”

Mulder pulls his seat back into place, popping suddenly into Scully’s peripheral vision. “Hey Scully, can I ask you a question?”

“If I said no, would that stop you?”

“Negative.”

“Go on, then.”

“Setting aside the why--though I’d be interested in that, too--how exactly did you decide that shooting me near the heart would be the safest bet?...Unless you wanted to kill me.”

“Well, I was pretty certain I’d be able to remove the bullet with what you had in your apartment, since the wound isn’t near a bone. That also makes it easier to prevent infection.”

“So you either have an insane amount of confidence in your shot, or you don’t value me very much,” he quips.

Scully smirks. “Lucky for you, I consider target practice a great stress reliever.”

“Does the Bureau psychologist know that?”

She bats his arm playfully, the car swerving as she does.

“Hey, that’s no way to treat a patient. Now I know why you’re not practicing.”

“Oh, did I forget to mention…? I’ve decided that I prefer Dr. Scully to Special Agent Scully, so this is the last you’ll be hearing from me.”

Mulder chuckles, though the very idea that there could be any truth to that gives him a hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach. “There are millions of doctors out there,” he says, “and some of them aren’t even the cool type. Special Agent? That’s way sexier.”

“Oh, is that the metric we’re measuring at now?”

“That’s the metric I’m always measuring at,” he deadpans. 

“Mmm.” Scully looks at the rearview mirror, her sister’s steady-breathed sleep reflecting back at her. Good. She’d never hear the end of it if Missy overheard this conversation.

Mulder rubs his eyes, the events prior to his blackout having flowed back to him through the waking hours. “I’m sure I’ll regret asking this,” he begins, “but am I a fugitive?”

Scully glances out the driver’s window, as if she were going to change lanes though there is nowhere to go and no one else around. “I took your weapon to ballistics and proved it wasn’t the one used in the murder.” She says it so casually, Mulder notices, distancing them from the fact that the victim was his father. “But you’re still the only one placed at the scene, and it doesn’t look good that you called the police then ran. Still, the evidence implies that it wasn’t you. Of course, there’ll be suspicion…”

“Especially since we’ve both disappeared…”

“Hey, we’re on FBI business,” Scully declares. “We didn’t go through the official channels, but this is related to the X-Files.”

“Maybe Skinner will believe that if he hears it from you.”

“That’s what I’m banking on.”

Mulder smiles. She’s using her reputation to pull off a ruse. And damn, does that turn him on. 

He breathes in the scents of the car--the McDonalds fries they bought with Melissa’s credit card (just to be safe), his own eau de cologne from three days without a shower, but, above all, Scully’s sweetness. Her, just...her. A hint of strawberry, a swipe of gardenia perfume, and her honey-suckle skin. Smoke was never a fitting scent for her, and he is glad she has given it up.

“I’m guessing it’s safe to say you never caught up to Krycek,” Mulder mutters, balling up the fast-food straw paper and tossing it in the air. “Unless you’ve got him in the trunk.”

Scully shakes her head. “No stowaways besides you. He ran off after I shot and catching him wasn’t exactly my top priority.”

“So you do value my life…”

Scully flashes a brilliant but bashful smile. “You caught me.”

What a relationship they have. They are each other’s slayer and savior;  a cut of the knife stitched by a meticulous hand. Hurt then healed on the other’s command.

“Fox…” 

Mulder glances at the backseat. He finds Melissa sound asleep, snoring softly, and his gaze snaps back to the other Scully in the car. What glitch in the universe has led her to address him by his dreaded name?

He has never been so sure as in this moment---his partner is an otherworldly being, something supernatural. Not an alien, nothing so sinister...but perhaps the angel he imagined, or a fairy who has guided mankind for millennia, or a genie granting his wishes in freeze-frames. She looks through him...not in a way which makes him invisible, but one that takes the physical aspect out of it entirely. She sees his soul. He knows this.

“Fox,” she continues, layering on the vulnerability, “I’m sorry about your father. I know you loved him, above it all.”

Mulder pinches the bridge of his nose. “Something like that...I don’t know, honestly, that he ever loved me.” He looks at his lap. “He spent his last breath asking for forgiveness. You have to wonder what he’s done with his life to end up there.”

“It all becomes clear at the end,” Scully responds, not so much a hypothesis as a statement of fact, drawn from experience. “His regrets caught up to him, and he loathed some things he did while cursing himself for the things he left undone...And in that moment, an apology was all he could do to right some wrongs.”

Mulder looks at her through the corner of his eye, somewhat disturbed by the oracle she has become. “He asked me to forgive him,” Mulder replies. “That’s not the same as an apology.”

“Isn’t it, though?’

Mulder crosses his arms over his chest, the lumpy gauze of his wound rubbing him through his shirt. “Well, first of all, he didn’t even specify what I was supposed to forgive him for, so I don’t see how that can yield any sort of apology. And the very fact that was saying it at the end of his life means that it wasn’t actually about soothing my feelings, but lessening his guilt. Really, it didn’t have a damn thing to do with me.”

“So you’re saying it was a selfish apology, and that doesn’t count.”

“Exactly.”

“So do apologies only work if the recipient accepts them?” Scully interjects. “Is there no value in the attempt?” 

Mulder bites his lip.

“I’m not trying to play devil’s advocate,” she clarifies. “I’m genuinely curious about what you think.”

He sighs. “I think...what matters is not necessarily if the apology is accepted, but the intent of it. Like in this case, it was ill-timed, and so I don’t accept it. Maybe if he had said it to me ten years ago, it would have mattered, even if I were too stubborn to accept it at the time.”

“So if your father had apologized to you ten years ago, you would accept it now that he’s dead…?”

Mulder shrugs. “I think I’d realize that he actually meant it, and so I should cut him some slack.”

“Interesting.” Scully says nothing else, keeping her attention straight ahead.

Mulder smirks. “You don’t agree with me, do you?”

She pulls her lips into a tightly-knitted line. “No, no, that makes sense. I just think there are instances when a poorly-timed apology is accepted, and what then? Is the inevitable misunderstanding that will result the recipient’s fault for being so naive? Or do they get to place all the blame on the dishonest person?”

“How about a little bit of both, ey? Spread the blame out nice and evenly. A sprinkle there, a pinch here...”

Scully cracks a smile. Of course he’d make this conversation dirty. “You know, you scare me sometimes, Mulder.”

And just like that, they’re back to his preferred name. He lets out a sideways smile. “Yeah? Why?”

“Because I think that maybe you’re truly crazy, you’re not just faking it.”

He laughs, deep and sudden. Pulled from the trenches of his being. “Glad to hear it,” he snickers. “Glad to hear it.”

-------------------------

As the motorcycle rumbles over the desert dust, Scully wonders how she could be so stupid. Barely out of psychosis and she sends Mulder to a burial ground. She didn’t intend for it to be his final resting place. 

Eric had tried to warn him before the helicopter men, as he called them when describing the scene to Scully and Melissa, burned the place. But Mulder couldn’t hear him over the whirl of the blades--that’s what Eric suspected. As he recounted to the girls, the smoking man had threatened him, had laid a grotesque hand on him and forced him to show the way back to his house. They interrogated his father Albert and bruised and bloodied him. The conclusion, all around, was that nobody knew where Mulder was. Regardless of whether he had burned in that boxcar or somehow disappeared into the desert beforehand, he was gone.

Scully has a pretty clear idea of who’s responsible, and she wishes she had a helicopter she could ram into their dumb black helicopter to wipe them off the face of the Earth... and prevent them from wiping anyone else off the face of the Earth. Thwarting their ambitions will have to be enough.

But how? Desert heat mixes with smoldering ash as she stands over what’s left of the boxcar, making the moment unbearable. It is obvious to her that if Mulder was still in the boxcar when the ignitor went off, he is now dead. No human can survive that magnitude of burning--he would, in fact, be incinerated. Not a piece of him left behind, identifiable even to Scully’s trained eye. 

And if he wasn’t in the boxcar, if he heard the helicopter and gave himself over to the desert? What then? Surely he would have found his way back to where she was standing by now. Surely she’d be able to see him, hear him, touch him. There’d be proof he was something more than ashes. Maybe even, he might have made it back to the motel. But Melissa is keeping watch, and she hasn’t said a word. Missy would not play games about this. 

Logic prevailing, as it often does with her, Scully lets Eric drive her back to the motel. If he’s not here, then he’s there. And if he’s not there then--well, she knows. And isn’t it just like Mulder to leave her enough evidence to point one way without giving her the proof she needs to conclude? She imagines a funeral sans a body and shutters. 

When they get back to the motel and Missy opens the door and she is alone in the room, Scully is not surprised. She is shattered. It’s like learning the day you’ll die, then waking up on that day and recoiling at the calendar. What will be cannot be stopped. Not by any power of persuasion. Any.

She wants to scream, cry, file a personal complaint with God. Instead, she walks through the door, thanks Eric for his help, then asks her sister what she wants for dinner. Scully’s not hungry--she rarely is these days, and how could she be at a time like this?--but Melissa, she’s human, and she’s been waiting around all day, and all they have in the room is a quarter-full bag of gummy worms, so yeah, Scully decides, Missy probably is hungry. And that’s something she can take care of. 

Missy looks at her sister like--well, like she said she just saw an alien. “Dana, you’re not well.” Then, after getting no reaction--”It’s okay to be upset.”

Scully throws her blazer over a chair. ”I didn’t say I wasn’t upset.”

Missy sits down on the bed and pats the space next to her. “Come on, let’s talk about it.”

Scully throws her hands in the air. “He’s gone, Melissa, what else can I say?” She paces through the room. “If he was in the box car, he burned to death. And if he wasn’t, then shouldn’t we have found him by now?”

“Not necessarily,” Missy counters. “Albert told me about the Anasazi, a tribe that lived here hundreds of years ago.”

“I know, I know. They disappeared, historians have no explanation for it.”

‘“That’s what they say. But, honestly, Dana--nothing disappears without a trace. Mulder included.”

Scully shoots her a look. “So what is your explanation? That he was abducted, despite there being multiple witnesses who didn’t see a thing?”

“He called you, he said he saw something in the boxcar.”

Scully nods. “Bodies...lots of them. He said they didn’t look human. And they all had smallpox vaccination scars.”

“What do you make of that?”

Scully shrugs. “I don’t know, but I don’t think it has anything to do with the Anasazi.”

“So why did the men burn the boxcar?”

“It could have been because Mulder was in there, and they wanted to kill him. Or because what’s in there was damning to them.”

Missy bites her lip. “Did the boxcar blow up?”

“No, but it’s still smoldering.”

“Could you go in tomorrow and take a look? See what you can find?”

“Missy, I doubt there’s anything left. And besides, I’ve already ignored about thirty calls from Director Skinner. I need to get back to DC...I’m lucky if I’ll still have a job.”

“Fuck the job. Think of Mulder.”

“I need to consider both if I’m actually to uncover any of the conspiracies that Mulder--and his father and so many others--died as a result of.”

Melissa frowns. Dana’s already counting her partner out...that’s hard to come back from, being christened as a corpse. She sighs. ”Alright, I’m going to preface this by saying that I truly don’t believe that Mulder’s dead, and I know you will find him.”

Scully’s eyes narrow, intrigued by her sister’s shift in tone. “Okay…”

“There’s a technique that I learned from my therapist friend,” Missy begins, already setting off alarm bells in Scully’s head, “that is meant to help process complicated feelings about a person.” 

Scully purses her lips as Missy continues--”It’s used to find clarity and--if it’s someone you’ve lost, literally or metaphorically--to give closure. I think it would help you establish a clear motivation to keep up your work on the X-Files.”

Scully’s forehead creases right between the eyebrows. “I just told you, I have one.”

“Yes, but if you go back to Washington, bureaucracy’s gonna get in the way of all of that. That’s why you drove out here in the first place, isn’t it? To avoid bureaucracy and push forward with the case?”

“I suppose,” Scully mumbles.

“And that’s exactly what Mulder would have done, and that’s what he would want you to do now.”

“This is beginning to sound like one of those ‘if x jumped off a bridge, would you?’ scenarios,” Scully retorts. 

“But with the opposite sentiment,” Melissa clarifies. “You and Mulder have never been closer to finding the truth. Now do you want to hear my suggestion or not?”

Hands on her hips, Scully’s silence commands Missy to continue. 

“Let me remind you that Mulder is not dead, and this is just an exercise.”

Scully nods, more to keep her moving than in agreement. 

“I want you to write a eulogy for him.”

Scully’s mouth drops open in protest. “And this is going to advance the investigation how?”

“By giving you emotional clarity. Essentially, you’ll realize how much he means to you, and it will push you to do whatever you can to complete the investigation.”

Scully scoffs. “You act like I don’t even like him or something.”

“You like him, but you’re afraid of imitating him. There’s a lack of...respect for his methods. And they’re the only way this case is gonna get solved.”

Scully crosses her arms. “Gee, apparently you should have gone to Quantico in my place.” It’s not that she’s afraid, per say, but that she doesn’t think Mulder’s unconventional approach will work. Two plus years in and she still believes herself more than him. She wishes she didn’t.

“You don’t have to read the eulogy out loud,” Missy coos, knowing full well that she’ll be sneaking around during the night to get her hands on it when her sister refuses to share. 

“Wow, thanks. That makes me feel a lot better,” Scully groans. 

Melissa squeezes her sister’s shoulders. “It’s gonna be okay. You’ll find him, and this will help you know what to say when you do.”

Scully leans into the hug. “For the record, I think this is insane, alright? I’m only doing it because it’s getting too late to search the desert.”

“Understood.” Missy stands up. “Oh, and to answer your question, Albert invited us over for a traditional tribal feast at his house.”

“What?”

“You asked what I wanted for dinner. Those are our plans.”

“Oh.” Scully looks at her lap. It seems unfair to have to face the world at a time like this. Especially when her head is plagued with thoughts about what she would--will?--say at her partner’s funeral. And still, she continues.

--------------------

Crowding around Albert’s dining table, the party finishes the last bites left on their plates. It has been a long day--or days, more accurately--and the desolate black sky outside makes Scully feel like it’s 4am, though the clock only reads 7. She blinks toward her company, trying to remain present.

“I am thankful we could share this meal,” Albert says, nodding to Scully and her sister. “It is not often we get outsiders here, and even less often that we’re able to indulge in the foods of our ancestors.”

Missy reaches for the final piece of fry bread, biting into it daintily. 

“There’s not a lot here,” Albert tells them, eyes downcast. “Nowadays, we take what we can get, and that means eating to survive...your processed foods and non-perishables have become the staples of our diets.”

Scully tries not to frown. “Well, we’re very glad that you prepared this for us. It was delicious,” she says, trying to inject enthusiasm into her downtrodden heart. 

“Yes, thank you very much,” Missy affirms. 

Albert casts his eyes in Scully’s direction. A shadow falls over her. From where, she is not certain. 

“You are hurting, but you do not need to be. What is yours will find you. There is no such thing as disappearance.”

Scully pulls her lips into a solemn smile. “That’s kind of you to say.”

“It is the truth. The desert acts in its own way, and it is never wrong.”

Scully nods, trying to believe him. Trying to have faith. “Thank you, Albert.”

From across the table, he extends his palms toward her. “Pray with me.”

She clasps his hands and closes her eyes. Prayer is not normally something she engages in with others around, but neither is grief. 

Albert begins speaking in the language written on the Defense Department files. She doesn’t understand the words, but his sincerity transcends semantics. The spirit of faith--the spirit of God--is there.

She has been thinking lately of faith. The faith she has been feeling is not that of Sunday mornings and ‘forgive me Father for I have sinned.’ It’s something else entirely, something that has compelled her to do things she would never do... until she looked down at her hands and she was doing them. 

So many transgressions to count, and yet she hesitates to even call them that. Injured her partner--a suspected fugitive--to keep him from implicating himself, tapped her sister as her sidekick to take him halfway across the country, and deserted her duties at the FBI, all in favor of the truth. 

Maybe truth is faith that good will prevail. 

--------------------------

When Scully sits down that night with the motel notepad and a pen, she becomes a conduit for everything she couldn’t say out loud. She copies the entire Mulder file from her brain, and it still doesn’t feel like enough. It doesn’t capture any of his essence, the unique flavor of humanity that he bravely faced the world with which made him so...him. 

It is then that Scully realizes you can know all the details of someone’s life without ever really knowing them, and that scares her because she gets the inkling that she has never truly let Mulder in--though he has opened up to her--and what if he dies feeling like he never got further than the young woman whose physics thesis he read? That’s not fair, not when she knows him so well.

She takes a breath and puts the pen down. She can’t compose Mulder to life. Resurrection doesn’t work that way. What she can do--and what she realizes is what every person does in this situation, and there must be something wrong with her because it wasn’t her first instinct--is write about how the man she knows (knew?) made her feel. About the impact his life had on her life. 

Her vision blurs as she works to consolidate her unauthorized biography of Fox William Mulder into a passage that suggests the joy their partnership brought into her life. Though Missy said she wouldn’t have to share, Scully can’t shake the feeling that she will need this at some point in time, that having a eulogy on call might not be such a bad idea. It’s a terrible thought, but a truth every agent knows. After all, she and Mulder witnessed each other writing their wills, and that was considered a customary work duty. Nothing is out of reach.

And so she wrote as if she’ll have to read it one day, letting her emotions flow within the confines of her finely tuned self-awareness. The end product turns out somewhat more sentimental than she envisioned, but she caps her pen and walks away, giving herself permission to take up space. 

--Fox William Mulder--

As he despised being called by his first name, I must take the liberty of referring to my partner as Mulder one last time. I was lucky to know him. Not as Spooky or the alien-obsessed man in the basement, but for who he truly was. Nothing was more important to Mulder than the truth. And the truest truth I know about him is that he loved his sister, and he wanted justice for her. It’s what he spent his life on, and ultimately, what he sacrificed it for. I am honored to have played any role in his mission, and I hope to continue it in his memory. 

If there’s one piece of Mulder that I hope to carry with me for the rest of my life, it’s his tenacity. Mulder never, never let any obstacle get in his way. I can’t tell you how many times I wasn’t sure where he was, only to learn that he had flown to the ends of the Earth to investigate whatever lead he found promising that day. I doubt that I’ll ever encounter anyone who lives up to the passion and determination he contained within him. And it’s a shame because the world needs that...The world needed him. 

I needed him too. He challenged me in ways I never dreamed of. Sometimes I wanted to pull my hair out, but mostly, I just kept thinking about how boring my life would be if I never met him. And now...I don’t know what’s next. There were so many possible futures ahead for us and the X-Files. This isn’t just a eulogy for Mulder, it’s a eulogy for all that could have been. He was my best friend. There’s nothing more I can say. 

When she reads it back the next morning, she falls to her knees in conversation with God, pleading for a miracle to bring the man she has finally realized she loves back into her life.

[rainydaydream-gal18]

Steve Rogers x Reader: The Nutcracker (AU) Part 1

[Author’s Note:  Sooooo I started this story last year and never got around to finishing it, so I ended up taking the parts I’d written off tumblr.  This time, I finally wrote an end to this story and felt like it’d be a nice thing to post around the holidays.

It’s an Avengers fanfic, but it’s the story of the Nutcracker (more like the Barbie one where the reader is not a little girl lol)

Warning, these are long]

   With a sigh, you watched the clock tick from a spot on the floral-patterned couch as you fiddled with a pencil and blank sheet of paper and thought of something to draw.  Your younger brother busied himself playing with the action figures your grandparents got him as a Christmas Eve present.  He was so spoiled it drove you crazy.  It seemed he got everything he wanted at the drop of a hat.  Grandparents are supposed to spoil you a little, but it felt like everyone took part in spoiling him.  Meanwhile, you worked hard and tried to earn what you wanted on your own.

      Your grandfather entered the sitting room, pocket watch in hand.  “Your Aunt Lily has arrived,” he announced.  “Why don’t you kids help her with the bags?”

     He was so cute.  To him, the two of you would always be “kids.”  You immediately got off the couch to help, but paused.

    “_(brother’s name),” you called to your brother.  He glanced up from his action figures.  “Are you going to help?”

    He resumed moving the action figures around.  “I’ll be there in a minute.”  Translation in little brother language: Never.

   Sensing your irritation, your grandpa nodded.  “I appreciate you helping out, Gumdrop.  Thank you.”

    You couldn’t be upset anyway because Aunt Lily was here!  She was definitely the cool aunt that took you out shopping and encouraged you to be yourself.  You had actually formed a friendship as you grew more mature.  Only problem is, she was almost constantly trying to interest you with a guy.  Every Christmas it was the same thing; her gesturing to handsome strangers and giving you suggestive looks.  Still, she was very fun to be around.

    “____________!” she greeted as you emerged from the hallway into your grandparents’ kitchen where some of the relatives gathered to welcome her.  “There’s my favorite niece!  Merry Christmas.”

    “Merry Christmas!” You said with a laugh as she pulled you into a big hug.  After a long squeeze, Aunt Lily released you.  “How was the trip?”

    “It was good!  Long, but good.”

    “Awesome,” you nodded.  “Let me help you with your things.”

   “You’re such a sweetheart,” she grinned.  “There are a few goodies in the trunk of my car if you don’t mind grabbing them for me.  Thank you so much!”  You grinned back and headed to the front door to slide on your boots.  A part of you hated stepping out into the snowy afternoon.  The icy winds chilled you to the bone instantly, but seeing everything clad in sparkling white was worth it.  You folded your arms and hurried past the dozen cars belonging to other relatives until you reached Aunt Lily’s.  After retrieving the big Christmas bags and a suitcase, you locked the car and went inside.

   “I think that’s everything,” you stated, kicking the snow off your boots at the doormat.  Some snow may have gotten on your Captain America socks.  Ugh.

   “Thank you again!”  Aunt Lily took a few bags off your hands.  As you helped her put gifts under the tree, you both got caught up.  She told you about her most recent road trip, the hotel she stayed at and even the celebrity she ran into, while you listed in wonder.  In turn, you told her about college and all the latest friend group drama.  After everything was unpacked, Aunt Lily reached under the tree and picked out a wrapped gift.  “This,” she began, handing it to you, “is for you.  An early Christmas gift from me.”

   “Oh,” you smiled.  “Thank you!”  You in turn grabbed a particular gift from under the tree and handed it to her.  “This is for you!”

    She gave you a kiss on the cheek.  “You’re such a sweetie.”

    After unloading the remaining things from her car, you found a quiet place away from the family hustle and bustle to open your gift from her.  Your brother came running into the room.

   “Look what Aunt Lily got me!”  He held up a box of building blocks set.  The picture on the front of the box showed what the finished product would look like.  This one resembled superhero compound, complete with the heroes in figurine form.  “What did you get, ___________?” He asked as he climbed over into your personal space.  But of course, he couldn’t leave you in peace for five minutes.

   You rolled your eyes.  “I don’t know yet, bro, I haven’t had the chance to open it yet.”

   “Oh,” he shrugged.  “Well then, carry on.”

   With a few rips, you tore through the wrapping paper like you had when you were a kid just for fun.  As soon as you saw the red, white, and blue shield you gasped.  

   It was a Captain America themed nutcracker!  He was so adorable too!  His outfit was red-white, and blue, and sort of looked more like the usual princely garb a nutcracker would wear instead of his usual costume, but he held the shield in one hand.

   “Oh wow!  This is so neat!”  You exclaimed.  

   “I’m so glad you like it,” Aunt Lily said.  She had entered the room to watch your reaction.  It was no secret that you went crazy for this sort of thing.  You were a total geek when it came to Marvel movies as well as Marvel-related merch, and you were proud.

   “I wanna see!”  Your brother whined as he struggled to reach for it.

   “__(brother’s name)__,” Aunt Lily scolded.  “That is ____________’s.  I got you something of your own.  Why don’t you go put it together?”

   He immediately became preoccupied with his own project, and you mouthed the words “thank you” to your aunt.  A dazzling smile played on her lips in response.  She was the coolest.

   The whole family squeezed into your grandparents’ dining room for dinner. It was a lively meal with people chatting and catching up.  Some relatives lived far away and could only visit a few times a year, so this was kind of a big deal.  You were asked a million questions about college, your part-time job, and friends. You filled everyone in on the deets about classes and the part-time job you got working at the local bookstore.

   “We’re so proud of you,” Aunt Lily said, and you couldn’t help but grin back. That was always nice to hear.

   “This one is so smart.  Always has her nose in a book, whether it is for school or just because she enjoys reading,” your mother said.  You blushed at the attention.

   “That’s good,” your grandma said.  “Keep it up.  Keep learning.”

   A few conversations later, the family went to their rooms to get changed into pajamas for the evening.  There would be a Christmas movie or two in the living room shortly.  Since your brother was the youngest in the family, he got to pick the movie.  The two of you exchanged knowing looks, and he chose Polar Express.

   “Yesss!” you gave him a big hug.

   As much as the two of you could be annoyed with each other, he was still your brother.  Both of you sat next to each other in pajamas and shared a bowl of popcorn as your grandpa tried to figure out how to work the DVD player.  Technology had developed to the point where any movie could be accessed digitally in an instant, and he was still trying to understand how DVD players worked.  You felt bad, but you and your brother tried to hold back giggles.

   At the start of the movie, you were bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.  As it progressed though, you began to feel tired. Before you knew it, you were drifting off to sleep.

   - - - - 

   “I’m sorry, __________,” someone sobbed.  You were awake instantly, blinking your eyes open.  The living room was empty.  It was after midnight, and everyone must have gone to bed already. The TV was off, but a cozy fire warmed the room with a dim light from the fireplace.  You rubbed your eyes and focused on your brother who stood in front of you, crying.

   “What?  What’s wrong?” you asked with a sigh.

   “I...I didn’t mean to do it.  I just wanted to play…”

   Your eyes went from his teary eyes to what he held in his hand.  It was your Captain America nutcracker.  His arm had been twisted at an odd angle.  Your brother held the shield, which had broken off, in his other hand.  Your first instinct was to get angry.

   “What did you do?” you demanded.  “You shouldn’t have been playing with him in the first place. Aunt Lily gave him to me.  You got your own present!”            

   “I know, I’m sorry,” he cried.  “I didn’t mean to break him.”

   You sighed again.  It was apparent he really felt bad, and you knew he would never have broken something of yours on purpose.

   “It’s okay,” you said finally.  “Well, it’s not okay, but I forgive you.  Thank you for coming to me instead of trying to hide it.”

   Relief washed over his face that you weren’t going to freak out on him, but he still showed signs of guilt.  “I can get you a new one.”

   “No, no, that’s okay.  This one is special from Aunt Lily, and I’m not going to give up on him just because he had a little rough patch.”  You gently took the nutcracker from your brother.  “You don’t give up on people just because they’re broken.”  

   You focused your attention on the Captain America nutcracker in hand.  He still needed a little fixing.  Your brother went and fetched some glue from the miscellaneous drawer in the kitchen. You used a ribbon from the package Aunt Lily gave your earlier to make a sort of temporary sling to keep the nutcracker’s arm in place.  You looked into his painted blue eyes and smiled.  They seemed to sparkle now.  Perhaps they had always been this bright, and you just hadn’t noticed before.

   Your brother returned with the glue, and helped you reattached the shield. He did a good job.

   “There,” you said.  “He’s looking pretty good.”

   “Yeah, he is.”  Your brother agreed.  Then, he wiggled his eyebrows.  “Good enough to kiss?”

   You gave him a look.

   “What?  I heard you talking to your friend on the phone once.  I know you think Captain America is ‘hawt,’ so don’t even deny it.”

   You rolled your eyes and grabbed the nearest couch pillow to fling at his face. “Alright, you just ruined the brother-sister bonding moment.”

   He stuck his tongue out at you.

   “What are you, two years old?” You threw another couch pillow.  “Anyway, it’s late.  I’m going back to sleep.”  You gathered the pillows again and fluffed them up before lying back down on the couch.  “I think I’ll stay out here and enjoy the fire.”

   “Okay, I’m going to my room,” your brother said.  “Goodnight, thanks for not killing me.”

   “Goodnight,” you opened a sleepy eye to watch him leave the room.  Then, you chuckled.  “Oy, I’m tired…”

               - - - -

   Crash.  You were ripped from a cozy, deep slumber to the sound of glass shattering.  A loud bang sounded.  More glass shattered.  You would have blamed your grandparents’ cat if it weren’t for the fact that they haven’t had a cat in years.

   That’s when you really woke up.  Fear gripped you as the sounds came from behind the couch, near the Christmas tree. It had to be an intruder.  But what the hay were they doing near the tree? Stealing presents?  A part of you was scared to look.  Still, you slowly and quietly poked your head up just enough to peek over the back of the couch.

   What you saw amazed and horrified you.

   Your Captain America nutcracker was launching his shield at what looked like a miniature Chitauri.

   “What the actual heck?” you whispered.

   The Chitauri was decapitated, but another leapt out from behind the Christmas tree.  The nutcracker charged at him and engaged in hand-to-hand combat.   More jumped in, and he fought them off skillfully.  But he didn’t seem to notice another sneaking up behind him.

   You weren’t sure what came over you.  Whether this was a dream or not, you did not want to see Captain America get mauled by one of those creepy things.  You hurried around the couch.

   “Watch out!” you called out, and fortunately, you reached him in time. Without thinking, you stomped your foot. Ew.  There might be creepy chitauri gunk under your slipper now…

   Your nutcracker looked up at you, his painted blue eyes seemingly sparkled more now.

   “Thanks,” he said.

   “No problem…” You managed a smile and a shrug.  This was crazy.  It had to be a dream.

   He seemed to sense your unease.  “This must be strange for you,” he said as he resumed fighting oncoming enemies.  “I will explain soon.”

   “Sure,” you nodded, biting your lip as you noticed a particularly large group of chitauri crowding around your feet.  It was no trouble.  A few swift kicks sent them all flying.  

   “Hm, darling,” a strangely familiar voice spoke.  “This isn’t going to work…I cannot afford any flaws in my plan.”

   “Loki?” you said in disbelief.  “But it’s been years since the first Avengers came out…Why are you still the bad guy?”

   He emerged from behind the tree, a little shorter than your Captain America nutcracker, except he had used his illusion abilities to look like a mouse. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said.  “However, I do know that you are getting in the way.  You’re too tall, I’d rather you be small…” He waved his scepter, and suddenly everything around you began to grow.  

   Or rather, it was you who was shrinking.  

   The chitauri that were coming at your feet so pitifully became more of a threat as you reached their eye level.  You squeaked as they crowded you, one grabbing your arm.  Just then, a few of them roared and began to back off.

   Your nutcracker came barreling into the mob, quickly wrapping a wooden arm around you and pulling you from the danger.

   “Y-you rescued me,” you gasped.  “Thank you!”

   “Of course,” he replied.  “But don’t thank me yet, _________.”  He released you, but kept holding your hand as he raced away.  “We’ve got to get out of here and back to the Kingdom.”

   “What?”

   “Yes, to find the Sugarplum Princess.  She’s the only one who can change you back and rescue us all from the Wannabe Mouse King.”

   “Oh, goodie.”  You clung to him as he leaped up onto a tree branch.  “And how do we find this Sugar Pear-“

      “Sugarplum Princess,” he corrected gently.  “And I’m not sure.”  The two of you became the climb up the tree.  You had done some tree-climbing as a kid, but this was something else.  

      You wondered why the heck the two of you were climbing the tree if you needed to get back to this “Kingdom.”  Your nutcracker remained at your side, ensuring you didn’t fall whenever your foot slipped on a branch.

   “We have to get to the star of the tree,” he said, as if reading your thoughts.  “It’s our way out.”

   Behind you, a few chitauri-minions began climbing too.  The Mouse King with Loki’s voice shouted commands and threats to them as you and the nutcracker managed to reach the top.

   The star looked so big and bright to you in this size.  Was it just you, or….was it glowing brighter?

   Nutcracker-Steve ushered you closer to the star.  He took your hand in his and touched it to the star.  With that, there was a flash of light, a sensation of falling, and suddenly you felt chilly.

   Opening your eyes, you saw a blanket of white stretching out miles and miles before you.  Snowy mountains stood strong and beautiful to the left of the scene, and a frozen lake far on the right.

   “W-where are we?  This does not look like my grandparents’ living room.”

   “This is the Kingdom,” Steve said.  “This is what I’m fighting to protect.  The Mouse King desperately wants to rule over this place and its people, but we can’t let that happen.  I’ve already wandered so far off track.”

   You had to admit it was beautiful here.  Everything was coated in sparkling light, resembling Narnia when the Pevensie children first arrived.  Only you got here through a tree star, not a wardrobe.  And it was still night here.

   “So, what do we do?” you asked, hugging yourself to try and retain some warmth. Steve’s painted eyes seemed to soften sympathetically.

   “I’m sorry about the cold.  Well, I’m sorry about all of this, actually.”

   “It’s fine. You can’t really help it.” Your breath rose up in a cloud through the air with each word.

   “I’ll tell you what,” he said, running a wooden hand down your arm in a pointless attempt to warm you.  “We’ll head to the nearest town for some warm clothes and supplies.  Then we need to find out where the Sugarplum Princess is.”

   “Sure, it seems I don’t have much choice.  I might freeze to death otherwise,” you mumbled.  Steve attached his shield to his back and began trekking through the snow.  You followed in his footsteps, hoping to avoid getting lots of snow in your slippers. Unfortunately, it was inevitable. Before long, snow had gotten into your slippers and melted around your feet, making them ice-cold.  The snow began to pick up, and it seemed to become a blizzard.

   “The Mouse King knows we’re here,” Steve shouted to you.  “He’s trying to make things more difficult.”

   “But of course he has ice powers,” you complained, teeth chattering.

   Not much longer after that, you saw a warm light in the distance.  It glowed faintly through the intense snowfall. The sight of it alone made you think of warm blankets and clothes, sitting comfortable and dry by a fireplace. Oh, you hoped they’d be welcoming.

   “Almost there, _________,” Steve told you.  “We’re almost there.  Hang in there.”

PART 2

[youllallriseintheink]

Angel of the Ink Machine, chapter 2: Compromise

The premise of this AU is simple: Sammy leaves the studio instead of Henry, and as a result, Joey needs a new partner in crime. He finds one in Allison. Power struggles, sacrifices, passion, ecstasy and tragedy ensues.

---

Allison’s first few weeks at Joey Drew Studios had been interesting, to say the least. Joey had introduced her to the music room on her first day, and all had seemed to go well. The next day, however, just as she was setting things up in her recording booth, a small, blonde woman who hadn’t been around the day before had come in to interrupt her. Apparently, the last voice actress for the part of Alice Angel- Susie Campbell- had been away the previous day and hadn’t been told that she’d been replaced. The poor woman was heartbroken, and Allison had felt bad for taking a role that was essentially meaningless to her from someone who clearly cared much more about it.

That pity only lasted until Allison realized that half of the music department had taken a disliking to her, seemingly overnight. It was hard to tell how much of that was their loyalty to Susie and how much of that was just their regular standoffish-ness. Either way, Allison didn’t much care for the whole high school-level cattiness of it. Any friends she’d make in this studio would be outside the music department.

Voice acting was fine. Dating Joey was wonderful. She hadn’t gotten to play with the ink machine yet, but they’d done other magic together. She didn’t care for his secretiveness about his plans for the machine worked, though, and after a while she decided to seek out answers on her own.

Her first thought was to ask the man who was building the machine, Thomas Connor. He said that he didn’t know how this thing was supposed to work and didn’t want to, and sure as hell wouldn’t tell some random music department kid if he did. She asked his assistant, Wally Franks, who told her a round-a-bout tale about how he’d drawn up the first blueprint. This was not information Allison could use.

There was one other person she could ask, but it was a long shot. Despite her best efforts, Allison hadn’t fully avoided the high school nonsense of the music room, and she knew the reputation that their projectionist, Norman Polk had as a keeper of unknowable secrets. Allison thought that they were being ridiculous, but it was worth a shot, and he was open enough about meeting with her over lunch one day.

“So, you’re working with Joey Drew on the magical stuff,” he said. It wasn’t a question.

“Uh, yes. Does everyone know?”

Norman laughed a little. “Most people here don’t even know that magic is real. Anyhow, I assume that you came to me because you’re interested in knowing some kind of secret?” If he was annoyed about the new girl knowing his reputation, he didn’t show it. If anything, he seemed amused.

“Yes. Honestly, I just want to know as much about Joey as I can. Especially anything that has to do with magic, and the ink machine.”

“Well, I guess telling you can’t be any more dangerous than him keeping it from you. Follow me.”

“You want to know a secret about Joey?” Norman asked as they walked, “he hires people he thinks are vulnerable and down on their luck. So Joey Drew Studios has some teenagers working here, some people with disabilities from the war, and a lot more non-whites and queer people than you’d expect. Not a secret, just a pattern I’ve noticed. But I know that what you want is real secrets.”

Norman took her to a room labelled, “The Archives.” Within it was hundreds of audio logs in locked glass containers. “Joey audio-records us,” Norman explained. “I don’t know his purposes for it, but he clearly does it a whole lot. The glass bins are locked, obviously, but I stole one off his desk a couple days ago. Wanna hear it?” The man’s face had gone from proud and amused to dead-serious.

“Sure...”

Norman pressed the button, and the audio log played. It was Joey Drew speaking to Thomas Connor. They were talking about how to change Bendy from a soulless abomination into a lovable cartoon, and it ended with Joey promising that if these things are soulless, he would get them a soul. After all, I own thousands of them.

“You wanna know what I think? I think that Joey is great at preying upon the desperate. And quite recently, he made a person desperate to be a cartoon character again. So, Allison. I don’t know what your role in this magical business is, but if you can help it, don’t let Joey hurt Susie Campbell- she’s my fiancé. I’ve already told her to be careful around Mr. Joey Drew, but...”

Allison was struggling to take this in. Joey wanted to kill people for this project? That was insane! And yet, some of those pentagrams in the basement had looked awfully large. “I’m sure he doesn’t mean that he wants to murder people. But I’ll talk to him, Norman. I promise. And I do have power over him, so you can count on me!”

---

Allison kept her promise, and brought it up the next time she was at Joey’s house.

“Joey. I need you to tell me right now if this ink machine project involves killing people.”

Joey immediately tensed. He’d been thinking for weeks of a way to break that to Allison that wouldn’t make her run for the hills. “Not... killing. I mean, they’ll still be alive. It’s more like putting them in another body. Yes, the process does involve causing their old body to bleed out, but their consciousness will still be there- probably.”

“Probably?” her face was remarkably calm, given the circumstances.

“I’ve tested the machine on rodents. None of them came out physically resembling a cartoon- only your potion lets me do that. But some of them came out acting like rodents, some of them came out acting like cartoon characters, and some of them went berserk. I’m trying to figure out how to make more of them come out as either rodents or cartoons. If the person retains their personality, they could basically be actors. And if they come out with the cartoon personality, well...”

The more Joey spoke, the more withering Allison’s glare became. “Okay. None of that. I’m not going to destroy people for this. Going forwards, only retaining the consciousness is considered a good outcome. Capisce?”

“Okay,” Joey said, starting to regret letting Allison into the project.

“And I assume that you were going to tell the sacrifices exactly what’s going to happen to them beforehand?”

“Well... Allison, how many people do you think would do this if we were to tell them everything? I was going to tell them that they’d go to sleep and then wake up as the cartoon character they want to be.”

Allison shook her head and appeared to think things over a moment. “You know what, Joey? I’ll do this. But we can’t do it without my potion, so we’re going to do it on my terms. You understand? So, here are my terms: one, we test that machine. We test it on rodents until we have at least 70% of them coming out acting like rodents. Alright? Two, don’t sacrifice anyone without my permission. Ever. And three: I want to be the one who talks people into becoming sacrifices. I have a silver tongue, too, and I don’t trust you to be honest with people. Those are the terms. Take them or leave them.”

“I’ll... I’ll take them. But Allison, if you’re going to have this much power over the project, I need you to show that you’re loyal to it.”

Allison smiled. “Of course. I’m sure that we could work something out!”

---

“What do you think- can you break the lock, Wally? I can’t believe I locked myself out like this.”

“Hmm... Well, Shawn has been tryin' to teach me how to pick a lock. I could try.” Wally got to work on the door and had busted it open within two minutes.

“Alright! Thanks, Wally.” Joey handed Wally the 20$ he’d promised him. They parted ways, and then Joey got to work scouring Allison’s house for that potion recipe.

It was nine weeks and four days after Joey had agreed to Allison’s terms. Six weeks, and only now were they making their first human sacrifice. Worse, they’d wasted hundreds of dollars worth of pet store rodents and a few dozen hours spent altering their ritual. They’d gotten those rodents to turn into toons- mostly perfect toons- that acted like animals at a high enough rate to satisfy Allison, and now Allison was headed to Susie’s apartment to talk her into becoming their sacrifice. Joey wished he could be there, making sure that Allison was doing it right and not scaring Susie away from the idea in the name of honesty. But the one benefit to this situation was knowing that Allison wouldn’t be here, and that after this she would be headed straight to the studio- he wasn’t leaving this place without that potion recipe, and thus full power over the project.

Joey checked all the obvious places like cupboards and drawers, paged through binders full of recipes for various potions and food items, and then checked the obvious “hiding place” places, such as under her bed, under rugs, and so on. It didn’t help that Allison’s house was rather cluttered. For all Joey knew, he could have missed the recipe while sorting through the various papers on the kitchen table. He checked his watch and learned that he’d spent too long here and had supposed to be at the studio an hour ago. Well, he had to give up and leave sometime. Before he left though, he went back to one of Allison’s recipe binders, where Joey had bookmarked a page labelled, “Memory spell? Failed.” He tore out the page. Allison clearly wasn’t the best at creating spells, but seeing it had given Joey an idea of something he could add to the ink machine rituals. It would take at best a few weeks to perfect, but what if he could control what the sacrifices remembered and forgot? There were so many potential uses...

---

Norman had been right about Susie being desperate to be Alice again. Susie had been furious when Allison had showed up at her apartment, but once Allison had said the words, “Joey and I want to make you Alice again. We agreed that you’re the best person for the job,” she’d broken down in tears.

“D-do you mean that?”

“Of course I do! It was the plan from the very beginning. Susie, no one is as well-suited to being Alice Angel than you are. Now, I’ll still be her voice actress, but you’re going to make history- trust me, people will remember you as Alice for decades after this. Joey found an improvised means to bring you closer to Alice than any actress ever has been to a character. The process will seem scary, but Joey will help you, I’ll be there every step of the way. I’m pretty excited myself, honestly! No one’s ever done this before. So, are you with us?”

“Well, that sounds... too good to be true. I mean, even just getting my role back would be nice wonderful, but here you are promising me fame and all of that... But you’re being awfully vague about it. What exactly do you have planned?”

“Come with me to the studio. It has to be seen to be believed.”

[yukheistics]

unrequited, johnny seo.

pairing johnny seo x reader

word count 1.4k

genre angst, fluff

warning(s) one-sided shit, cursing, mention of dick (like once?)

note found this in my drafts and basically revamped it. moral of the story: this was supposed to be some fwb!au but gave up on that and wrote this instead lol (^_^). also i seem to have a thing for naming my stories basic ass names hELP

summary you’d have to cross the whole galaxy to reach him. he holds stars in his eyes for someone who clearly isn’t you.

As soon as the party ends, you find him outside in the cold. You wonder how he is managing the weather when he’s simply dressed in a black henley and ripped jeans.

His eyes are focused at the dark sky, indicating that he has probably spent his entire time drinking by himself rather than interacting with anyone else. He has his fingers loosely wrapped around a beer bottle, taking small sips every now and then. He enthralls you for all the right reasons: he’s the sweet taste of bubblegum, the warm afterglow of sunlight, and the soft pitter-patter of rain on a cloudy day. He’s flushed cheeks and saccharine smiles. He’s Johnny Seo. 

You’re in love with him.

(He doesn’t love you like that.)

You don’t bother to give him a greet and take a seat next to him. “You know everyone is worried about you,” your voice comes out as a whisper and lean against the wooden pole on the porch. 

“When is everyone not worried about me,” he states, before a rich, deep chuckle escapes from his throat. He focuses his attention to you and gives you a cheeky smile. “There’s nothing to worry about.”

You nod slowly, feigning to be convinced. “Actually, Yerim is probably the only one concerned if you ask me,” you point out. “She almost calls me everyday, but at least once in our calls, she never fails to ask how her brother is really doing. For someone who almost gave her brother a bloody nose in our senior year, she loves you more than anything.”

“C’mon, who doesn’t love me?” he suggests and wears a lazy smirk. “Everyone loves me.”

You marvel at the way he grins at you and feel your heart beating erratically in your chest. You turn your head and ignore his gaze. “Except I,” you inform him, feeling him poke your side when you say it. “You should’ve played beer pong with me and Ten. He accidentally hit the ball in Yangyang’s eye,” you pause and think of the scene earlier. “I’m still debating if he did that on purpose or not.”

“On purpose,” Johnny shakes his head. “It’s Ten. He’s good at beer pong. He wouldn’t miss a shot on purpose. His pride is too large for that.”

“You’re not wrong,” you agree quietly. He suddenly leans the side of his cheek on the top of your head. You silently gulp at the unexpected contact and almost faint at the whiff of his cologne. Fuck. “How was spending two hours out here like?” you ask him to distract the obvious red tint spreading on your cheeks. 

“Boring,” he answers. 

You hesitate. “Why did you stay here then?”

To be honest, you don’t need to ask. You saw how his smile dropped all of a sudden earlier. You didn’t get the chance to ask what was wrong when he left your side all of a sudden, mumbling something about getting a drink. You realized back then how he saw her. 

Ahn Bora. His ex. 

She’s pretty. She’s pretty like a doll: pale skin, long brown hair, dark red lips, doe-like eyes, and a curvy figure to complement her features. She resembled a doll that you’ve always envied when you were a child. 

You merely gave her a smile at that and turned your attention towards Jaehyun. He was telling some story about his mom embarrassing him during a lecture or something. You tried to focus on his story, but a part of you wanted to find him and comfort him. But you knew he wanted to be left alone. 

Johnny still loves her. It’s painfully obvious. You believe it’s been two months since she broke up with him, but he hasn’t moved on. He lingers in the remnants of her. You can’t really say anything about it either, because you’ve been crushing on your best friend’s brother longer than he and Bora have been dating. 

(He doesn’t love you like that.) 

“No reason,” he answers confidently and places the beer bottle on the ground. “It was getting stuffy back there and I needed fresh air.”

“Interesting,” you reply dryly and push his head off of yours. “You’re a really bad liar, has anyone ever told you that?”

He pouts. “Maybe once or twice,” he eyes you for a second. “Did you drink today?”

“No,” you roll your eyes. “You know I’m the one driving.”

“Oh yeah,” he says in realization and shakes the beer bottle from the ground. “Well, if you did drink, we could’ve just stayed here. I don’t think any of the boys would mind if we crashed.”

You remember the last time staying over since you and him were drunk and couldn’t drive home. Let’s just say, you were scarred when you accidentally walked into one of the frat members getting his dick sucked at eight in the morning in the bathroom. It was Kun. Ugh. You couldn’t even look him in the eye afterwards—until now. They could’ve at least locked the door or any clear indication that it was occupied. 

You scrunch your nose. “No, thanks.”

“You care too much,” he hums and wraps one of his arms around you. 

“You can talk about it you know,” you murmur and lean your head into his shoulder, pretending that he isn’t making your feelings go on overdrive.

Johnny looks warm underneath the moonlight as he thinks of what to say to you about how he felt seeing her for the first time in a while. He isn’t worth the heartbreak, you think, but you continue pursuing on false hope that one day he will feel the same way. He won’t. He won’t. He won’t. 

(He doesn’t love you like that.)

“Felt weird,” he finally speaks after a minute. “I also tried to hate her in the process of our breakup,” he laughs nervously. “I can’t. I can’t bring myself to hate her despite all the heartbreak she put me through. I still have a pretty image of her smile embedded in my brain and the sound of her laugh resonating in a cold room at midnight. It makes the room warmer. If that even makes sense. I don’t even know what to feel.”

You aren’t sure how to reply. You have been pining for him for God-knows-long, but you can’t think clearly when he talks about his ex. You brought it up to begin with. You might as well say something. 

“Well,” you start slowly and tap your fingers on your right knee. “You guys lasted for a long time. I mean, I never had previous relationships, but based on my understanding from romance novels,” you hear him laugh—and it makes your heart clench at how melodic it sounds in the darkness. You like the sound of his laugh. It relaxes you. It feels like home. “First loves are hard to let go of. You grow familiar with them, ponder the future a little too much, love them more than you can ever love anyone else, and all that. Then, when they’re gone, a piece of you breaks as well,” you pause and glance up at him with a frown. “But don’t quote me on that, I never fell in love.”

“Is that what you learn from minoring in philosophy?” he spontaneously asks and uses his right hand to squeeze your cheeks together. “Because that sounds good. You can write a novel or something.”

“You’re just drunk,” you address and push yourself off of him. “C’mon, I’ll take you home.”

He goes quiet for a couple seconds and looks up at you. “Do you think it’ll go away?”

“What will?” you question and tug on his arm to stand up. 

“The heartbreak,” he responds immediately. “At least, based on your understanding from romance novels.”

You don’t know. You can’t even will yourself to stop crushing on him. It’s funny how he has broken your heart countless times, yet he is unaware of it. All he knows is that you are one of people he grew closer with during college. His sister’s best friend. A friend, that’s all. 

(He doesn’t love you like that.)

He waits. His eyes are gazed into yours, anticipating an answer from you. You want to blur him from your memory, wishing your feelings would go away immediately. He invades your mind at the brightest hours of dawn and proceeds to cloud your thoughts throughout the day. You wish he can be yours.

But you know he’s unattainable. You’d have to cross the whole galaxy to reach him. He holds stars in his eyes for someone who clearly isn’t you. 

 “Of course it will. It just takes time.”

[kinetic-elaboration]

September 17: 3x07 Day of the Dove

I am incredibly discombobulated today—usual weekend nocturnal shenanigans I guess! Anyway it’s somehow midnight. Gonna try to write up these note on the Classic episode The Day of the Dove in as efficient a manner as possible.

Hmm, a planet with wavy pink Fraggle plants. I like it already.

But where is Spock? Very suspicious.

I really appreciate Kirk giving a little speech to set up the overall question/issue for us. (I know he does this all the time with the Captain’s logs but this is out loud and so… more obviously expository.)

Oh no, it’s our old friends…the Klingons.

I will admit that this ONE TIME, the Klingon is being reasonable. Like, it is reasonable to think that Kirk and the Enterprise attacked his ship, given that his hip WAS attacked, and who else would it be?

Three years of peace between the Klingons and the Federation? That is inclusive of the show so all this tension must technically be “peace” and also implies there was something more like a direct war going on, like, right before Kirk got the captaincy.

Zoolander voice: What is this, a colony of the INVISIBLE?

“We have no devil. But we understand the habits of yours.”

No takers? No takers on the torture? No volunteers to be mercilessly tortured by the Klingons?

Star Trek Beyond could have had Kirk and Chekov bond over being brothers! I mean, to other people.

They’ll kill 100 hostages at the first sign of treachery. He does know there are only 400-some people on the ship right? Maybe you should pace yourself, Kang.

Kirk’s so badass he needs MULTIPLE guns trained on him just to use the phone.

Oh-ho secret message to Spock. Which version of the iPhone will be capable of doing THAT?

The Klingons are “suspended in transit” is an awfully nice way of saying they’re just dematerialized atoms in space. Philosophy major and/or Bones nightmare fuel.

How did Kang not see this coming, by the way? Like, he just says “I’m taking your ship now, me and my 6 men versus your 400-some men, and I’ll do this by simply declaring it to be so. Now let’s beam up to your ship, where I’ll be greatly outnumbered, and there are armed security guards all around me.” Guess he’s been reading The Secret!

WIFE AND SCIENCE OFFICER

Aka the most important part of this whole episode.

Kirk’s face is very ?????? You can have both????

It’s legitimately not even important for her to be the science officer tbqh. Like that is so gratuitous. That’s just in there to drive me insane.

"We're prisoners, somehow, after I demanded to come on the ship, assuming they'd just give it to me without any kind of fight. How DID this happen?”

Federation death camps lol—someone’s been watching Fox News.

I do kind of wonder… is this an actual rumor that goes around the Klingon homeworld or is it something that the alien entity put in her head specifically to make her angrier right now? I mean it really could be either.

I also appreciate this episode for being pretty much the only one to actually attempt to give the Klingons a reason for being as they are. The Romulans… maybe aren’t well-described, but they do have a sort of regalness to them, appropriate for being related to Vulcans, and you can kind of imagine that they are the way they are because they’re Vulcans without the intense self-control. Plus they’re literally only in 2 TOS eps and in the second, the Federation are the aggressors. But the Klingons show up a half-dozen times only to be depicted each time as just like Cartoonishly Bad, aggressive, violent, and selfish for basically no reason. And I mean, some people really are!! But TOS has so much nuance in other places, that it always seemed a little disappointing to me that the Klingons are really just like ‘well we’re just bad and we hate everyone and we really like killing I guess.” At least in this ep there’s a little more added to that: that there is poverty on their world, that they feel aggrieved, that they feel unprotected, that taking and conquering is how they look after themselves…

I think that’s later in the episode though.

He’s detaining them in the LOUNGE lol. With their favorite dishes available to them to eat. Absolutely barbarous conditions.

I can’t believe Chekov is hanging in the elevator with the cool kids. Like, one of these things really isn’t like the others.

Kang is officially sure of himself for someone currently imprisoned in the lounge, that most fearsome of Federation death camps.

Hmm, could the glittery light alien have taken over??

You know what, that's a lot of tasks for Johnson to do all by himself: search the whole ship, fix the engines, and free 400 people.

Sulu would love this: everyone gets a sword!!

“Bridge. I gotta show this to Sulu immediately.”

Klingons have maintained a dueling tradition. That’s interesting. Finally some characterization going on.

Spock is really living up to his logical nature today. Everyone else has gone off the emotional deep end and he’s like “have you considered this completely rational explanation that accounts for the actual, observed facts??”

Whoops Chekov is actually an only child. Scratch that previous Beyond headcanon. (Interesting that his dead brother does really resemble Sam though—killed on a research colony??)

Love that Sulu knows that about him though.

Oh, that’s a pretty schematic picture of the Enterprise. I want that on a t-shirt.

Lol the pan out to the armory, now filled with… swords!!

Do ALL of these men have a fetish for swords? Sulu and fencing, Spock displaying swords in his quarters, and Kirk in his San Francisco apartment, and Scotty salivating over this Scottish blade.

“Klingon units.”

Finally Sulu gets his sword! It’s what he deserves.

Love that the shiny light alien also has a fetish for swords.

Oh no, it’s our old adversary, an alien life force.

What is the alien’s purpose? Um, I’m pretty sure its purpose is to start shit.

“An appropriate choice of terms, Captain.” I don’t even remember what this is referring to but I think it’s pretty clear that Spock is enjoying himself during a crisis again.

Bones, being so dramatic. Were there atrocities? He’s talking about the Klingons as if they were literally hacking off limbs—it’s a few stab wounds here and there, chill.

Oooh, time to behave like military men—strong words. (But I thought it wasn’t the military?? @ S**** P****) (This might not even be my best argument, given the context of this episode, but I’m sticking with it.)

This is like a giant game of capture the flag.

AU that’s just about the Enterprise crew playing capture the flag with the Klingons.

Sulu in the background standing guard with his sword

Damn, turning on Spock with the slurs now!!

Spock was absolutely ready to kill him. Like he would 100% have taken him out with a blow to the head. And he’d been doing such a good job of not feeling the alien’s effects so far! Admittedly, that was a strong provocation though.

Honestly, I really like this scene. It’s uncomfortable and tense and you can really see how the alien is bringing out the worst possible influences of their respective races. And I liked how Spock was definitely full on pre-Reform Vulcan for a minute there. It was a more effective portrayal of what that might have looked like than All Our Yesterdays tbqh.

A result of… stress?

Kirk got himself out of it first. He’s so strong. He knows himself so well, he cannot be outsmarted by any alien.

“We’ve been taught to think in terms other than war.”

“The alien brings out the worst of us—patriotic drumbeating…even race hatred.”

He’s so sad; he can’t imagine thinking like that about Spock :(

Sulu in a Jeffries tube! A man of many talents. It’s okay bb, take credit for turning on the lights.

The alien must have been getting bored. The Klingons must have been doing too well, and the playing field needs to be leveled for maximum shit-stirring.

“Let’s find that alien.” That’s how I ALWAYS feel.

Oh, Kang, you’re so close—“What power supports our battle but thwarts our victory.” So, so close to getting it.

ALIEN DETECTED.

Spock takes his sword, of course.

“Jim.” Obligatory Jim moments hit differently when they’re not so obligatory.

“Jim—stop hitting my protégé. And put that sword down.”

Kirk looks so sad, picking Chekov up to carry him bridal style.

Also in addition to ‘race hatred’ I think we need to add ‘rape-y tendances’ to the bad stuff that the alien is inspiring here.

“A brief surge of racial bigotry. Most distasteful.” Spock winning for understatement of the year.

They're assuming the alien is trying to test out their relative powers but I think it just wants entertainment. I mean, doesn’t it look like a naughty little thing?

Mara’s outfit is… little shorts? Interesting. Usually not my style but she makes it work.

Spock doesn’t even look at Johnson as he falls lol. Another one bites the dust.

“It exists on the hate of others.”

What does this remind me of? Oh, the Vast of Night and the whole “aliens made us do every bad thing ever” conspiracy theory. At least this one makes more sense, in part because it is not quite so overwhelmingly broad!

All hostile attitudes must be eliminated, he says, and there's Mara right behind Kirk giving him a death stare lol.

Kang is so obviously posing. Google Earth, always taking pictures.

Only a few minutes before drifting forever in space becomes inevitable? Good thing Kirk works well under pressure.

“Well… do whatever you can, Scotty. You know the drill.” Doesn’t even bother giving real directions anymore. We’ve been in this scenario before.

“So we drift in space, with only hatred and bloodshed aboard.”

And the 392 people below just get to…live in Enterprise prison, I guess.

Star date: Armageddon. So dramatic!

I’m not even making that up; that’s an actual quote. Can you imagine being an Admiral listening to this?

“Stop the war now.” An actual line, really aired on television.

Spock wants to threaten the wife lol. That's the old pre-Reform Vulcan seeping through. Surak who?

Damn, Kang is cold. “Eh, she gets the concept of being killed in battle.” They’re gonna need marriage counseling after this.

“There is another way. Mutual trust and help.” Yes that’s my hero!!

“No one can guarantee the actions of another.” Can’t remember the context of this entirely anymore, but great line.

The entity is loving this—multi-person choreographed sword fight!!

"Those who hate and fight must stop themselves. otherwise it is not stopped.” Another baller line. Spock has a lot of deep thoughts today. And so does Kirk. And Kang.

Kirk tries to reason with the alien. Nice try.

“Shoo. Shoo, alien. Off the ship, go away.”

Omg that last moment—Kang slapping Kirk’s back way too hard, Spock’s completely ridiculous wide-eyed expression when he does, like some sort of combo of amusement and confusion, and then Sulu just passing on by in the background….

Then the alien just yeets itself into space. And that’s the end!

Always feels weird when there’s no wrap up on the bridge.

Also, what are they going to do with the Klingons? They have no ship. They really did come out of this a lot worse than Kirk and co. No ship, huge casualties—and no one to blame even, but the alien.

I feel like the alien messed up a little in killing so many Klingons. Like, it could have accomplished its purpose, angering the Klingons and turning them on Kirk, by attacking the ship a little less violently—you know they’d react to 5 deaths pretty much the same as 400, and then there would be many more people to fight forever and produce that sweet sweet anger!

Maybe the alien’s powers aren’t strong enough to influence 800 people though. Also it wants equal forces and 800 people wouldn’t fit on the Enterprise, one assumes. So it still makes sense.

That was, of course, an excellent episode. 100% agree with is classic status, even though the main things I remembered going in were the wife + science officer bit, and everyone laughing at the end in a really forced, fake way, in order to make the alien go away.

I thought the Klingons were a lot better/more interesting today than usual. First, I think Kang is a better character, or a better actor maybe, than the others; he has a certain way about him that is… more watchable, more sympathetic. And he’s always saying these really dramatic things that make it seem likely he writes patriotic Klingon war poetry in his off time. Also, including his wife made them seem more… not human obviously, but normal. Not just cardboard cut-out villains. And of course the actual lightly specific motivations I earlier mentioned helped too.

Also, the plotting was very good: it built up slowly but surely over time, so at first the alien’s influence wasn’t that obvious, and then it became more so, and then it became horrifically obvious and extreme. And then you had to re-evaluate earlier moments: was that the alien changing facts in their heads, or a real part of the animosity between humans and Klingons? And it wasn’t always clear, which I appreciated. The tension when the people were at their worst wasn’t overdone, like in that moment with Scotty, Spock, and Kirk—or even in Chekov’s assault on Mara, tbh. The various strategies of the different sides were very entertaining too; there was never a dull moment, and they fit in a lot of straight-up actions and twists into 50 minutes.

The possible threat was truly terrifying, also: stuck in a space ship, forever, unable to die, feeling the worst possible emotions all the time, besieged, angered, despairing, fighting a war that can’t be won, being injured and suffering only to recover and fight again, and it never stops… A perfect nightmare mixture of insanity and violence and pain. And the alien, in encouraging hatred and anger, doesn’t discriminate between sides: they turn on each other just as much as on the Klingons, breeding paranoia and infighting. For eternity.

The episode also felt much more strongly anti-war than I remember tbh. Like it was not subtle. Kirk literally says “stop the war” in so many words. He has a part in his speech where he talks about the possibility of other aliens out there, encouraging other wars. And while I do think “maybe the aliens are making us do it” is a cop out explanation, or would be if it were real, the scenario gave the show a lot of room to say, like, pretty ballsy things: to include “patriotic drum beating” along with “race hatred” in a list of corrupting feelings they were experiencing; to show how the same instincts that lead to warring also lead to sexual assault and the aforementioned ‘race hatred;” to reveal the true horror of an endless war by making the participants unkillable and sticking them in a singular space ship in the middle of nowhere; to imply that the combatants of war gain nothing from it, but outside or third-party entities will pull strings of their own design to profit from the conflict as long as possible; even to make an impassioned plea to camera to stop the endlessness of the conflict. Like I can’t even totally unpack this but it is a lot!

Finally, it was also a great Kirk episode, which of course is my most important factor. He’s smart; he’s strong; he’s so sure of himself and his values that he cannot be manipulated to mindless hatred, he represents the values of the Federation, and the show itself; he treats even his enemies with basic respect and humanity; and ultimately, he saves the day.

Okay I was not efficient in writing this up at all! It is very late!!