#but it's overruled by things far bigger

[sylviamarsh]

Tut mir Leid, Captain.

[placeinthemiddleofnowhere]

Mean König with a tiny Rookie…He does an effort to constantly remind them how small they are compared to him and instead of brushing past them to get somewhere he lifts them up and sets them aside. Teases them on how they’ll never be able to be actively fighting on the field (maybe Rookie is an infiltration specialist/spy who sneaks into places does stealth kills) and how they’re so lucky that they’re paired up on those missions together.

Eeeeeee 🥰 I can imagine newbie being all tense on missions as well trying to do everything perfect and König is just totally overruling them

“…What you don’t seem to realise, Schatz, is that you’re so lucky to be paired with me,” König croons from beside you.

You repress and eye roll and keep your eyes forward, walking further into the forest. The pine needles are sent flying with every one of your steps and the air is thick with their heady scent, that and the sound of all the creatures scrabbling around the trees. It’s the only sound that follows König’s sly comments.

“Who else would be able to protect a little thing like you?” He continues.

“I don’t need protected, I’ve managed just fine without you so far,” you grit out, forgetting who you’re with for a moment.

You tense once the comment slips loose, realising all to suddenly that there could be repercussions to that. Your back stiffens like a board and you risk a look up at König, trailing your eyes up the bloody tear streaks on his mask and to those hollow crocodilian eyes of his. They’re blue as prehistoric pools, teaming with just as much danger.

“Oh yes Schatz,” he says, a wry smile present in his voice. “You passed as one of the top recruits in your unit, didn’t you? Such a little overachiever. Then again, the challenges you were up against were child’s play really. They don’t really prepare you for the realities of combat.”

You purse your lips and look up at him, frowning as you realise he’s walked closer to you. You swear you can feel the weight of his shadow on you. His full body is towering over you, forcing you to yield before him and fold over. He looks at you meaningfully, waiting for you to speak.

“What realities?” You ask breathily, searching his eyes, trying to read his silent body language.

“Oh so many things,” König says taking a step closer to you.

You feel your foot drive itself backwards before you even really know what you’re doing, you drag a mark through the dirt and leaves. You huff out a breath and watch as he continues to take steps and you whimper, breathing quicker and quicker.

“You’re so very small,” he whispers.

You swallow and continue to retreat.

“And you’re a lot weaker than most other soldiers…I know you rely on stealth.”

His voice takes on a knife like sharpness. It’s piercing through your belly and racing down your spine.

“What would you do against an enemy much bigger than you? What if they were more experienced and better suited to close combat?”

You took one last step back and hit a tree, the shock of it reverberating through your spine.

“What then?” He growls, pinning you fast against it.

[macgyvermedical]

Hello. I believe you live in ohio (or did) and am hoping you can provide insight on new ohio laws drafted- heres a link to the post: https://www.tumblr.com/bearslikedilfs/739180713918775296/it-appears-there-is-a-caveat-allowing-treatment?source=share

I dont work in the medical field and probably missed or misread some things.

I do live in Ohio.

My understanding is that the "only" thing that has happened so far is that the House overruled Gov. DeWine's veto, causing trans girls not to be allowed to play girls sports and gender-affirming care for anyone under 21 to become punishable by a practitioner's licensing authority (state medical board or department of nursing). This particularly excludes the same type of care for intersex people, puberty blockers for documented precocious puberty, and continuing gender-affirming care for those under 21 who have already started a course of treatment.

While this is of course a serious problem, the bigger issue is that the override means the House is either extremely misinformed or extremely anti-trans right now. So the likelihood of other anti-trans bills getting passed is high.

We already know that DeWine is pretty well informed, stating "The decisions that parents are making are not easy decisions. These tough, tough decisions should not be made by the government. They should not be made by the state of Ohio. They should be made by the people who love these kids the most. And that's the parents, the parents who raised the child, the parents who have seen that child go through agony" and "None of [the families] that I talked to talked about surgery, that's not where they were going in the discussion. And I think that's, frankly, a fallacy that's out there that, you know, this goes right to surgery. It just doesn't. All the children's hospitals say that we don't do surgeries."

So his request that information be collected sounds mostly like he is trying to get a good basis of knowledge for making good laws, and unfortunately that could open up a vulnerable population (us trans people) to being hurt if that information gets misused. And with as hostile as the House has to be to vote 65-28 against trans children's rights to medical care, there's a lot of opportunity to misuse or misinterpret that data.

Unfortunately, though, that is where my interpretation has to end, because the rest of it is lawyer stuff and they don't teach that in nursing school.

[trashlie]

So what do you think is the exact relation between the Kim and the Hirahara families? They're "business partners" but the rest of the details have been pretty vague, and the fact that apparently a Kim was ex-CEO of the Hirahara side of things makes me even more confused.

No, I agree. Until now, I'd thought that the Kim-Hirahara alliance was something they were newly bringing to the table, but that Yui had been in cahoots with them for a long time, but now it's clear that this relationship goes back even further.

I believe the Kim who was the former CEO was Gun Kim's father, so Sangchul's grandfather. It doesn't make sense to partner with them again, does it? Wouldn't the shareholders be uncomfortable with the idea of partnering with the family of the man who lost his position in this company due to sexual assault allegations. Of course, the business world is sleazy so maybe it's justifiable to them because that particular man is not in power and the Kims themselves make for a powerful partnership - Gun himself states that he has connections to several media conglomerates. If we have learned anything in ILY so far, it's that those with wealth and influence go far, no matter what they've done. The Kims clearly have powerful enough connections and assets to make them a beneficial partnership. Perhaps the idea is that "all of that is in the past" and it "doesn't matter" anymore? Perhaps because it's a partnership rather than re-hiring the offending Kim it doesn't raise any flags?

There's so many ways this can swing, though. I think it's clear the Kims and Hiraharas are close - at least through Yui and perhaps other members of her family. It's interesting that they partnered with someone who has that past, as I'd expect Rand to be against it, but again, perhaps it's so easy to say "oh but he isn't involved so..." Or Rand was overruled. Or Rand doesn't care. We know as far as Yui goes, they are close. Sangchul knows a LOT about Nol's personal life that others don't, and Yui had the whole secret roofies for Sangchul that Gun doesn't know about. It's also implied his father is making him cooperate with Yui (I think he referred to hiring Shinae as "You've got thar bitch ordering me around")

We also cannot forget one of the popular theories that comes from "Rand isn't Kousuke's father" is "Gun is Kousuke's father", but that's merely a theory at this time. I just always feel it's worth mentioning when we dig in to the Kim-Hirahara family alliance.

Perhaps this recent partnership is a way to bring the Kims back into the business without being directly involved? Look, I'm not a business person, so I can only speculate lmao and if anyone has better ideas, please let me know! This is an aspect of the story I'm always interested in, too! Everything Yui - ans in general the Hiraharas - do is for some kind of gain, so they wouldn't partner with the Kims if the risks outweigh the benefits. However, a friend has shown me an interesting theory that what Yujing is working on may be two separate stories - one on Nol for Rand, and a much, much bigger story about the Hiraharas and Kims.

I think the Kims and Hiraharas are of the sane ilk - they don't care much about others and see no qualms in stepping on others to get what they want and what thet deserve. Gun's father is known foe rampant sexual assault, Gun himself is known to be a serial playboy of sorts (and there's far darker implications that he goes after young girls and Shinae was at the formal for him), Sangchul himself is an entitled asshole who also has no qualms with coercion or drugging girls to get what he wants. What we know of Yui and her propensity to drug people as well as her willingness to harm others to teach them a lesson, to control them, or even for her own amusement is right in line with them. To them, you do whatever you must because you can, and because if not you, someone else will do it.

The theory about the two articles plays like this: Yujing has a lot of dirt on the families, but so far it's a jumping point, right? It's all allegations and implications. Even if she could tie this all together in time, it might not have the full effect. So what she means they have 120 days for might be specifically about the Nol piece - which makes sense because I was never quite sure how Nol's sentencing played into that. But if it's about Nol - perhaps the aim is to demonstrate that he, the illegitimate son of Rand Hirahara, took the fall for Sangchul Kim, son of the Hirahara partner.

Something I thought a lot about if Yujing dropped that expose around graduation, then what story would be left for us to explore in the time jump? Essentially with what she's working at, you would think that would dismantle a lot. But looking at it from the perspective that she's working on something much bigger, she needs more time. It's not enough to just write about these already known events. She probably needs testimonies, she needs more evidence, she needs more of the victims to share their piece so that what she's presenting is hard to refute, so that shareholders feel the impact. If the whole general public turns on them, they've got to act, right?

So if this theory is right, that there's two stories, the story on Nol does two things. First, it can possibly clear Nol's name. As a result of pleading guilty, he now has a record, and everyone knows what kind of stigma this creates. If people learned the real story, that he took the fall for one of the partner's children, how would that make the company look? Especially as he was actually trying to help someone. Especially as the illegitimate child.

Secondly, this story existing would lead more credence to Yujing's future expose. It would show this has happened before, and thus it makes Yujing's evidence appear all the more trustworthy. It's a long game.

What does this have to do with your original question? Very little LMAO but it's a tangential thought for me, because while the Hiraharas seem to think the benefit of this partnership outweigh the risks. But if the public is to learn that the bastard son is taking the fall to protect the partnership? If they learn that the Kims are still as dirty and vile, that the Hiraharas continue to condone what they do so long as they can benefit, maybe the shareholders would be able to push for some change, lest the public fully turn on them, right?

But to sum up my answer to your question lol I think in general the Kims and at least Yui are close. Note that neither Nol nor Kousuke had yet met Sangchul, but he knew all about them through his father, who appears to be very close at least with Yui. Birds of a feather and all that. 👀

[mortifiedatbeingknown]

"A Rather Polite, Bigger Thing" (Pt. 4)

Masterpost:

Since all the mechanics' shops were out of contact since their hours had closed, she fell asleep researching her new house guest. He'd called himself an "EDW-450," if she remembered correctly, a model that had gone out of fashion when she was too young to remember. 

Her robot did resemble the images that came up, (albeit far shabbier, dented and frayed) but what struck her as odd was the reoccurring photos of them wearing clothing. Not just clothing… but a uniform; long brown pants and khaki button up shirts. Specially made caps jauntily adorned their cubical heads. And in almost every advertisement of the era, they were shaking hands, waving happily, handing over packages to endless joyful families. 

She tapped on the first reputable-looking article she could find and began to read. 

EDWs, or "Edwards", as they were commonly nicknamed, were first copyrighted to labor under a private shipping company looking to innovate the business. Their androids were the first with what could be called a programmed "personality", meant to create smoother interactions between the robot's and the humans they served. Their highest priority, other than the Three Laws, was politeness and courtesy, all in the hopes of smoothing over rough customers and helping curb unruly tempers. 

It backfired horribly. 

She read on, now with clenched fists, as the lists of workplace damages and insurance losses began to climb and climb. The Edwards, for all their pleasant mannerisms and their endearing uniforms were not however, able to deal with angry customers. If anything, they suffered more abuse, physical as well as verbal, than any human employee would have, for legal protection in the case of androids was never much to begin with, and to  at a being that could not feel pain did not strike many as morally wrong. A simple order of "Hold still!", or "Tell no one!", would render the robots completely helpless and overrule the protections of the Third Law, Eventually, the damages grew so great that the business could no longer afford repairs, and the entire service went down. From then on, all Edwards were sold to private owners. 

Is that what happened to her Edward? Just how had he ended up broken and abandoned on the side of the road? Had it been the result of a violent customer, or was he torn apart by a later private owner? Would it even be right to ask? She chewed on her lip as she peered out to the door to where her robot lay resting. 

Later. I’ll think about it later. 

In terms of functionality, there was very little she could pick out from in between the unintelligible technological jargon. They were polite, often to a fault, as already stated, and their programming was apparently so easy to hack that dozens of decades-old websites had been dedicated to teaching methods in which to modify them. Teaching them curse words was the most popular endeavor, but the crimes quickly grew more serious, such as installing bizarre and intense fear responses to everything from spiders to the color yellow, taking control of the optic feed to fill the poor robots’ mind with whatever video content the user wished no matter how grotesque, and perhaps worst of all, overriding the very Laws themselves. 

That seemed to be the final nail in the coffin. Once the Edwards were deemed a threat to humanity… the remainder were scrapped, with only a few surviving on to be sent and preserved in museums around the country. It was not expressly illegal to own one now, though checkup with a mechanic to update the faulty software was required to ensure proper certification. 

Well, that settled it. She would already have to head there anyways,  she could fix both mind and body in one trip All she’d have to do now… was set up the schedule once the shops were opened. 

Sounds like a plan, then. And with a professional taking over the procedures for her, how hard could it be? 

**********************************

“Alright, one more try,” she whispered to herself as she picked up the phone again. “...One more try.”

She hadn’t expected this to be so difficult. She had thought that since her robot was of and older, simpler make that it would be easy to find a suitable mechanic. Little did she know… 

“I’m sorry, we do not offer any services for models older than…” 

“...haven’t for years, now…” 

“...We do not have the correct parts in stock to properly repair your android…”

“But what we can offer is…” 

She listened to every suggestion, every new and improved model that she could buy instead, and politely declined. She couldn’t deny; some of those deals did sound rather tempting, but she held strong. It wasn’t just a robot she wanted for a companion, it was that robot, that politely anxious mess of wires lying on her couch, and she would have none other, no matter how much effort it would take. 

“Thank you.” Was all she could say, and with every number she hung up on, she grew a bit less optimistic. That robot was depending on her now. His safety, his comfort, his body and repairs, even whether he survived the night… that was all up to her now. What if she couldn’t deliver? What if she couldn’t take care of him properly? 

No, no she couldn’t think like that. I have to try. 

So with that, she pressed the button and initiated another call. 

“Hello?” 

The voice that responded her was a smooth-spoken, casual, yet pleasant man, who greeted her politely and offered their business’ services. 

Here goes… 

“I am looking for someone who can repair my EDW-450, please. Most of the parts will have to be replaced…” 

When she finished her spiel, only silence awaited her on the other end. “Yes… could you hang on a moment? I’ll be right back.” 

With a high-pitched beep, the phone went silent. 

She pursed her lips and began to pace. At least its not a no… Usually the shops were able to tell her right away that they would not be able to help her. But that didn’t mean it was a “yes”, either. She’d have to be realistic about this sort of thing. 

As she walked, she kept a sharp eye to the blanketed bundle on her couch. The robot had not moved since last night, and while she was starting to get used to him acting that way, it didn’t stop her worrying, especially as the time ticked on by. She had no idea what sort of fuel she would need to keep him ticking, but until she found out it would be nice to have him stick around as long as possible. 

Perhaps if she ordered him to move… just to see if he could… but was it really—? 

“You still there, miss?” 

She gripped the phone tightly. “Yes?” 

“Well, our mechanic makes it a point to never promise any miracles, but she does have experience with EDW models. She’d be happy to set up an appointment. 

“That’s great!” She practically shouted with relief. “Oh and… could you possibly, um… update their programming security too?”’  

“With a 450? Piece of cake.” The man assured. “Though I should warn we won’t do any mods we consider morally abhorrent.” 

“Oh! No worries then! W-when can I schedule an appointment?” 

*******************

“Yes!” 

It was her cry of triumph that startled it out of resting mode. It flinched violently, joints shuddering in the effort to get away… 

And then promptly fell, crashing onto the floor with a hideous racket. 

Instantly, his mistress came running. Her heart rate was abnormally high. 

“Oh no… A-are you alright?!” 

“Please do not worry. The fall was less than two feet, Mistress. I am not damaged further than what I already am.” It replied. 

But she didn’t calm down. Instead, it found its head cradled in her arms as she frantically checked. 

“But your eyes… what’s wrong with your eyes?!” 

“There is nothing wrong with my eyes, Mistress. Or my eye, rather.” It was always best to use precise language, and there was only one functioning optic at his disposal. 

“But it’s not turning on!” 

“That is because it is closed, Mistress.” It explained patiently. "You ordered it so, remember?" 

"I…what?" 

"Last night, when you…" It let the sentence trail off into nothingness. The less time spent reminiscing on that moment, the better, for both her, and for it. Besides, from the gasp in her voice, it could tell that she had remembered without needing any more prompting. 

"So you were just waiting…? Oh, I'm so sorry!" 

Results came back showing a mix of shock and guilt. Hatred too… Caution. 

"Open your eyes please!" She cried. "No, wait, then you wouldn't be able to close them… um, could I just… maybe give you back the freedom to move your eyes as you wish?" 

"You certainly can, Mistress." It replied. "You have complete authority over me. Do you wish to grant me that freedom?" 

"Y-yes! Yes I do!" 

The first thing it saw was its mistress leaning over it, sighing in relief as a tendril of her hair fell from its normally neat bun and grazed against its face.

"I'm sorry." She said as she lifted it up and placed it back on the couch. "I should've been more careful with my words." 

It would have thought so as well, had it been allowed. But it was that vocalizing of that mistake, that verbal, genuine regret… It couldn’t take it. 

"I accept your apology, though it is not necessary. Please, Mistress, it was an honest oversight for anyone to make, and I did not suffer badly. It is no big matter." 

And she stared at it, so long that it wondered what it had misphrased this time. Her lips pursed tightly. 

"Regardless, I will be more careful. I promise you that." 

“Promise” for humans meant Until I forget. Still, far more than it deserved. 

But for now, it could be grateful to nod and settle back down in its spot, waiting the day away. It was not an ideal, its programming itched to be useful, but for the moment… no one was mad at it. No angry customers. No new modifications to be tested out on its fragile network. 

No. For now, it could just…be. 

It felt wrong to receive such a gift without first earning it. 

[doesnotloveyou]

Definitely Miami

already posted the AO3 link to this, but i'm so silly I forgot I can just post the whole thing

Warnings: Teen rating for suggestive content

Length: Flashfic/ficlet/drabble

Summary:

Sonny reflects on his past romances while trying not to make a huge mistake with a certain French bombshell.

Sonny's love life had felt like falling down stairs for a long time now. Each time he hit another step he swore he'd find his balance and stop before he hit the bottom, that the next step would be the last. Except the staircase was much steeper than he'd expected, and Burnett attracted gravity like a lead weight.

Caroline, his best love, mother to his amazing little boy who was growing bigger every day, broke his heart by using her head. She wanted out and he couldn't blame her. The job was more home to him than she was. His ex-wife and his boy had hugged him goodbye and left for better things.

Gina, his girl Friday, got her heart crushed by some jackass who wined and dined her before taking on another chick without so much as an "oops, sorry.” She definitely still loved him, but that wound was festering and neither of them wanted to look at it. He didn't even know why he'd done it, but he knew he didn’t deserve to be taken back.

Brenda, the 'other woman,' the one who was out of his league. The one who somehow thought she could succeed where Caroline had cut her losses. A pretty fantasy to wake up to but one that nearly cost him his real partner. She was never meant to be.

Margaret was the first sign that the staircase was steeper than imagined. New York City was bewildering enough without some chic blonde in a penthouse spinning him like a top. Even once the curtain had fallen she still tried to manipulate him back into her bed. He'd prefer to forget about Margaret sooner than later.

Now Callie. Ice cube to wipe her sweat, Callie. Kept him up thinking about her during a heatwave, Callie. How she twisted him around one manicured finger before running that hand up her leg. She came on too hard, turned him off; exuding pure sex was not a look he desired. But it sure as hell clung to his brain like a parasite.

The tortured love angle tugged viciously at his heart strings. He was in this job to protect people like her, but people like her were starting to go too far. His head was slamming the brakes while his heart floored it; it's a ripoff, but what if it isn't, trust your gut, she looks so scared, she could have left him by now, you know it's never that simple.

Sonny felt guilty for how bad he wanted it to be real. Because if it were real then Callie was really in an abusive relationship. Her tears, her fear, her pain. All of it would have to be real and he'd currently be hunting down the animal that terrorized her. Yet, the stink of a rotten deal was all over that woman, and here he was following it like a starving dog. 

During the four hours he devoted to sleep, drenched in summer sweat and wearing as little as possible, Sonny would bear down on the bunched up blanket and pillows to take the edge off. Callie was either a victim or a snake, and either way he shouldn't touch her.

At the end of each night though, his bed was empty, his heart full, and he wasn't getting any younger.

In the safehouse, Callie parted open her bathrobe and he fell with her into the bed. The trouble then was knowing exactly where to start. She was an unguarded sports car, top down, keys in the ignition, tank full, engine purring, upholstery gleaming. He was dressed as a criminal, talking like one, thinking like one. There was compassion in his heart and a full-bodied woman in his arms. No one knew where they were, and she wanted the touch of a kind man so desperately she was practically forcing herself on him. It was all so perfect. 

Out of left field the bickering between his head and heart was overruled. His conscience got him out of that bed. He pulled his clothes back together. He walked away.

[nickelsdrocs]

A small blur of black across the hot pavement, breathing heavily and too terrified to scream anymore— his throat stinging from his pained cries earlier —as it rushes to find cover. Leaving a haphazard trail of blood behind him, adrenaline overrules of an injured leg, Shuichi knowing that sprinting CAN'T be good for it. But he has no choice, a large cat close behind. Claws and fangs already stained red from when it had gotten far too close earlier.

Vision blurred from pain and panic, Shuichi skids around a corner— only to find himself with nowhere else to run. Wide eyes staring up at an imposing wall, he jumps in fear, battered body scrambling to turn around and face the approaching predator. Breathing quick as his steps were, the ebony rabbit backs up against the wall as much as he can. Soft body pushed against it, nose twitches rapidly as the scent of danger approaches... Uncaring eyes pinpointed on the prey, Shuichi can't speak. Can't move. Can't even THINK aside from one echoing sentiment—

He's going to die... and waste the opportunity that was given to him.

He just hopes people aren't too upset at him for it. - (( *shoves a hurt bunny boi who needs Help* ))

@not-bcring

A small brown tabby tomcat was taking a quick cat nap in a tree, soaking up as much sun as possible, when he caught a whiff of a familiar scent. What really caught his attention was that it was mingled with the scent of blood. Ears perking up and nose twitching to locate the source of the disturbance, he heard the constant patter that indicated a chase, and instantly, Seto darted off to run interception. His plan was to cut off whatever was chasing the closest thing he had to a friend to buy him time to escape, but he didn't make it in time. Shuichi was backed into a corner.

Before he could think of the danger, Seto threw himself in front of the terrified bunny, hissing and spitting at the much bigger cat. Twin tails thrashed threateningly. Though it seemed to hesitate briefly at his sudden entrance, the other feline continued pressing forward. He couldn't even spare a glance back at Shuichi to check if he was alright, having to stay focused on the enemy ahead. Swiping when it drew near, he knew his bluff had been seen through. It's not like he knew how to defend himself. His specialty was running and hiding. The Big Bully Cat, as the thief had taken to calling it, swatted him out of the way with a single move, claws raking down his side as his pitifully light body was thrown to the side.

Stumbling back onto his feet, Seto caught sight of another cat bearing down on his bunny and threw all his reservations about revealing his identity out the window. He had originally planned to wait and see how long it took Shuichi to figure out that he was also a supernatural being, but he was never going to figure it out if he didn't make it out of this alive. He shifted to his human form and launched himself in front of the terrified bunny once again. Glaring down at the Big Bully Cat, he growled out, "Leave. Him. Alone."

[miraefmd]

idol headcanon meme : no longer accepting.

Send ○ for a training headcanon. (word count: 216)

mirae trained for a relatively short one year considering she hadn’t had any formal experience in singing, dancing, or performing before she made her debut. if she hadn’t debuted that fast, there was a good chance she wouldn’t have debuted at all, though, since she would have eventually had to go running back to her parents with her tail between her legs since she was wearing her mother’s patience thin.

in the year she trained, mirae really gave everything she had. she spent countless sleepless nights practicing in gold star’s dance studios until it was morning and she had to go to her vocal class and start her day all over again and she never skipped a training day, even when she was ill or injured. it made her stand out and was what got her to debut in the long run, but it definitely made the pressure for her to have a successful debut that much higher. selene would be gold star media’s first group, so even though they had bang sunyoung’s name behind them, there wasn’t a precedent to know if that was enough to hit big.

mirae would consider her year of training under gold star to be the most stressful time of her life, but it made her who she is today.

Send ♡ for a social media headcanon. (word count: 200)

mirae is very active on social media. she has a personal, private instagram, but she often uses her public instagram account more than that one anyway. she sees it as a self-promotion tool, so she understands it as a very important part of her career she needs to keep up with. she’s quite social media savvy, though not quite to the level of her younger sister (who is an influencer). other than instagram, her most used social media is instagram, since she has had her own personal channel there for almost a year and a half now.

mirae’s instagram has gained a lot of followers in the aftermath of squid game. her followers more than doubled and she’s built a much bigger international base in her followers. she’s still waiting to see when it starts to drop off, but she sort of wishes her youtube subscribers had grown as much. her youtube subscribers have grown a lot, too, but not as much as her instagram, and her youtube is where she posts content showcasing her skills and not just her face, so she believes it to be a better representation of any long-term career effects it will have on her.

Send ♠ for a headcanon about misconceptions fans or the public have about my muse. (word count: 203)

for the most part, up to this point, i think mirae has done a good job of shaping her image to be how she wants to be seen. she’s someone who likes to have control over that sort of thing, so she usually does. gold star obviously has the power to overrule her and mediaplay her into whomever they want her to be, but so far there hasn’t been too much conflict since mirae’s image has paid off.

but the main misconception i think fans and the public have about mirae is that she’s sort of inhumanly secure in herself. she is a very confident person and she’s worked hard for that to be genuine and most of it is not put on. that said, she is still very sensitive about certain things and is not above insecurity. her pride controls her a lot, and that makes her prone to flare-ups of jealousy and a wounded ego when her pride is compromised. a lot of people would perceive her as someone things just bounce off of because she’s so confident in herself. she would like people to think that about her, but the truth is that she hasn’t achieved that superhuman skill yet.

Send ‼ for a career goal headcanon. (word count: 201)

mirae has career goal after career goal. she wants to win a grand prize as an individual actor; she’d like to become a household name. above all, she just wants un-shatterable stability in her career for guaranteed financial stability. she realizes truly un-shatterable stability is something that is not possible, though, so i’d say her biggest career goal is getting as close to that as she can.

it’s not the career goal she’d state in an interview because it doesn’t make for a fun answer, but it’s the driving force behind pretty much all of her other goals. wanting success in so many different fields is very much something she pursues because she has an earnest interest in all of those fields, but it wouldn’t feel so dire that she finds that success in each of them if financial stability wasn’t so important to her. being multi-talented is good for her image, but it’s also a way to diversify her safety net. it goes beyond a career goal into a life goal. ultimately, everything she does in her career comes down to the desire to have a strong foundation under her since she and her family never had that growing up.

Send ∞ for a future (post-idol life) headcanon. (word count: 267)

mirae’s true post-idol life might not come until she’s physically too old to perform on stage anymore, so i’ll talk about her future when being an idol stops being her main job. by the time selene comebacks slow down and they’re coming back only once every few years at best and her solo releases are the same, mirae will probably be working primarily as an actress. by this point, i see her as having established herself enough as an actress that she has her pick of scripts and will have probably transitioned to mostly doing films. she won’t give up dramas completely, but she’ll only come back to them when something really compelling grabs her. though she’ll be established at this point, she’ll continue to work at a rate of two projects a year or three projects in two years because she wouldn’t be comfortable with having a lot of free time; she’d feel like she’s wasting it. she’d continue to do brand deals and would maybe come out with her own line of clothing or accessories or cosmetics, maybe all three.

she’ll probably settle down into marriage around her late thirties, probably with some ceo or someone from a rich family who she’s attracted to for (once again) the stable lifestyle they can have by combining their finances, and start a family shortly after, but she’ll take off only as much time as she needs to for that before going back to work. she’ll continue to act into old age. i don’t see her ever retiring unless she becomes physically incapable of working for some reason.

Send ♥ for a headcanon about something my muse likes about being an idol.

there truthfully isn’t a lot mirae doesn’t like about being an idol. she’s successful in her field, and it’s given her a much better life than she had before it, but i think what she likes the most deep down is that she’s good at it. being an idol isn’t the only thing she’s good at necessarily, but it does come very naturally to her. she would have likely felt the same about modeling if she’d been able to have a career trajectory in it similarly to her trajectory in selene, and acting is similar but she has to think about it more than she does performing.

mirae likes having control, especially over herself and her own life, if i haven’t made that clear, and somewhat oxymoronically to all of the control gold star media has the ability to exercise over her life, she feels more in control as an idol than she thinks she would if she’d done something else. mirae hadn’t had the connections or money to secure a powerful job position for herself, so if she wasn’t in the entertainment or fashion industries, she’d probably working a job like her older brother, where she’s viewed as little more than an inconsequential cog in a machine. the idol industry may be about selling a product as any other, but as a public figure, she has fans and with that comes leverage of her own. 

Send ✈ for an airport fashion headcanon. (word count: 221)

mirae is known for her sense of fashion, so she makes sure not to disappoint at the airport. there’s a place for everything and she isn’t showing up at the airport in a stage outfit or a red carpet outfit, but she’s acknowledged for her fashionably casual style when she’s at the airport. she wears a lot of pants and crop tops at the airport for comfort; you could say it’s her uniform, but she approaches it in different ways. sometimes, she wears a crop top under a tracksuit for a sportier look, while she dresses it up other times with a long coat over jeans and a neutral top. it isn’t anything too eye-catching, more off-duty model looks, but she’s acknowledged for rarely slacking.

there’s been a number of occasions where she became a subject of talk for not wearing a bra at the airport. it depends on the day whether she wears one or not because there are days a plane ride in a push-up bra just isn’t what she’s looking for and she just doesn’t wear a bra all the time in her off-time anyway. she’s a firm believer in putting effort into her style at all times, but a plane ride is the type of situation where comfort is of utmost importance in tht effort as well.

Send ☎ for a bad fan experience headcanon. (word count: 232)

selene is lucky in the sense that they appeal more to the general public than they do a passionate fanbase. that isn’t to say they don’t have any passionate fans; they certainly do, and there are many faces mirae recognizes because of the frequency with which they come to fan signs and concerts. there aren’t many who dedicate their entire lives to following selene around and invading their privacy, though. in mirae’s experience, their fans are more mature and understanding of the boundary between them than that. the bad experiences tend to come from the “fans” who have read into some of the sexier concepts selene has done to mean that they can be sexualized against their will whenever it suits the audience. (mirae is also aware this isn’t solely because selene has done sexier concepts. groups with ‘innocent’ get it just the same as selene, but mirae has heard these ‘fans’ use the ‘excuse’ of their sexy concepts.)

so rather than one particular bad fan experience, mirae’s handful of bad fan experiences have come from attempts to film upskirt from below the stage during performances or down her shirt via concealed cameras during fan signs. any time she’s noticed it happening, she’s tried to alert staff so that the person could be removed from the premises, although that hasn’t always been possible, and those instances have for sure been the worse.

Send ◙ for an audition headcanon. (word count: 216)

mirae actually planned to join gold star media in their modeling department, not their idol division. she’d been let go from her previous modeling company and had been intent on finding a new one. a staff member at her old company had tipped her off to gold star media auditions and she’d shown up for the model auditions, but they’d asked her on the spot if she could dance and sing. she hadn’t prepared anything, so she sang a capella and danced to a popular soloist’s song she knew the choreography and lyrics to well enough. the audition wasn’t anything she’d be proud of nowadays and she’s quite happy it’s never surfaced online or on a variety show, but her ability to hold a note and keep a beat at the same time was enough for gold star media to show even more interest in her as an idol trainee.

it was unlike mirae to be so unprepared, but she’d gone in fully prepared for a modeling audition, not an idol one. changing her career path so abruptly seemed ill-advised until she actually got an offer to train. she doesn’t regret auditioning or even the audition she gave at all since it got her in, but it does bother her that they caught her off guard.

Send ☀ for a variety headcanon. (word count: 218)

mirae doesn’t appear on variety as much as she probably could because she doesn’t always like the position she’s put in when she appears. in a group setting, it’s more diluted since the other members are present, but her ‘role’ on variety often gets boxed into a sort of ‘bitchy’ role. this stems from her past variety appearances where she would play on her schtick of overconfidence. it plays well with fans, but in certain variety spaces, especially since they’re often so male dominated, it gets a weirdly confrontational or even demeaning response. the schtick got her into some minor controversies in her earlier years, and while she didn’t really care, she wishes people would have paid more attention to what she was saying than the way she said it. she didn’t like to take shit from hosts the way they liked to give it out, and it didn’t make her the most popular guest with some hosts who didn’t like to be challenged on their way of doing things.

gold star sort of decided to steer her away from too much of a variety push to avoid a controversy that actually blew up and while she’s not against appearing on the right show, she’s perfectly fine with focusing on acting, modeling, and performing most of the time.

[genshinobsession]

okey okey but like for your sentience au thing, and in one of your recent asks

like the one where the characters finally break free, childe's part had me thinking on how they can always be with you

what if, whatever, character manages to escape but what if they were tiny. like the same character size on the device you play on.

like what if they were pocket sized, is basically what I'm saying. then they can be always with ya.

ya know.

ack, too much.

anyways..

I'm really liking your writing and ideas. I've turned on my notifs, so that I can always be updated on when you post. and I just, plse continue to write. obvi ion wanna sounds like I'm forcing ya to continue writing.

drink some water, not too much nor too little, eat, takes nap and take care of yourself

This is a GREAT idea thank you!

I hope I wrote it the way you were hoping so far!

They Escape the Game (Part 1)

(Pocket Edition)

Characters included in this part:

Xiao, Diluc, Kaeya

(I may make a PC version but it will more than likely just be HC’s because the only thing that would change would be the slight change in height)

Xiao

It took everything in him to finally decide to leave everything he knows behind and take a leap of faith out of the game. All he’s every known has been Genshin and ONLY genshin. So when he had finally gotten out of it he was more than surprised by what he saw.

When he had made it out, the first thing he was met by

Was you.

Except, you were h u g e.

You looked down at the tiny person in front of you who had just literally hopped out of your screen.

As you took a closer look your realized it was xiao.

HA, that can’t be right, right?

You went to poke him to make sure you weren’t just making it up but right before you did you felt his tiny hands push against yours a-bit.

“What are you doing?” He asked with his usually annoyed tone. Your eyes widened as you realized, this was in fact xiao. He just, popped out of your game.

You left the palm of your hand open as he hesitantly climbed on. You carefully raised him closer to your face as he grabbed onto your thumb to secure himself on your hand.

“Xiao?” You asked.

“Who else would it be.” He retorted, taking a quick glance at the very large objects around him. He was used to the large mountains in Liyue but nothing of this size.

Having the tiny man in the palm of your hand was such a weird feeling but you had to admit his tiny angry face did look adorable. You gently placed him back down as you began to think.

“How are you even here?”

“...” no response came from the tiny yaksha as he looked away, seemingly avoiding the question. He looked around your room a bit more and noticed that you had his mask on your wall.

“How did you get that.” He asked as he pointed to it, looking back down towards his hip where his now tiny mask still remained.

“Oh, this was a gift from a friend of mine.” You said as you carefully took it down and placed it in-front of him.

Carefully he stood on top of the mask and admired the detail, it was accurate to the one he had, which was impressive but he dare not say that out loud. He lightly hopped off the mask as he looked back at your phone that now had an empty space where he had been.

His mind did start to wander as he thought about how literally all he knew was essentially

A lie.

Not wanting to think about it to much he turned back towards you.

“Traveler... pick me up.” He demanded as his now outstretched hands wrapped around your finger as you lifted him back up to your face.

“I am now going to stay with you to protect you at all times. No, you do not have a say in this.” He proclaimed as you lightly chuckled.

“What’re you going to protect me with, a toothpick?” You joked and xiao pulled out his spear and lightly poked your finger, not enough to make you bleed but it still hurt causing you to almost drop him.

“Didn’t think that through, did you.” You laughed.

Going about daily life wasn’t too hard with Xiao always around. You found different places to hide him so if someone walked in they wouldn’t see him.

When going outside you attempted putting him in your pocket but it was a bit to much of a tight fit for him to stick his head out well. So you decided to get a small empty bag.

He’s often very quiet throughout the day, just enjoying being around you finally. He didn’t even care about how you looked he just wanted to be around you especially now that he’s in a huge world full of unfamiliar things.

Diluc

At first Diluc was unsure about dropping everything and leaving, since there was no guarantee of him getting back if he felt homesick. However, this thought was overruled when you had joined the game again.

He wasn’t one to just jump head first into things but this time he was sure about what he wanted to do. And before you could even do your normal greeting he had leaped from the screen.

He didn’t think about the fact that he had no idea where he was going to end up when he jumped through but that question was quickly answered when he landed in your face.

You immediately swatted at you face, thinking it was a bug, not caring to open your eyes and look at who it actually was.

Diluc hung on for dear life as you finally swatted him off but he luckily landed on the pillow in-front of you.

As you rubbed your mouth hoping to get the feeling of what you thought was a bug off your mouth you finally heard it.

“Traveler?” The voice said. It was a strong voice and sounded, a bit far away. You looked around for the voices host, but saw no one. Until you looked down at the pillow in front of you and noticed the small redhead who was standing there.

You had no idea what to say, this isn’t real right? But it’s so convincing. He practically look as if he was actually there.

“Diluc?” You asked hesitantly as he looked back up at you. This was the first time he had ever seen you face to face, you were a lot bigger than he had thought you were going to be but he found your features beautiful nonetheless.

You carefully put your hand down for him to climb up and he did. He held onto your thumb go slight security as you lifted him up to get a closer look, and sure enough, it was Diluc, down to every last detail.

“Oh my goodness it really is you! Why are you so small?” You asked, he shrugged his shoulders and turned back to look at the thing he popped out of which was your phone.

“Well I’m assuming since I come through that portal object over there, I ended up being no bigger than that size.” He said as you put him carefully back down on the phone.

“What is this thing anyways?” He asked as he tapped the sword attack button on your screen causing your character to attack.

“Ah, so that’s how you did it. I will admit this is a little bit weird for me.” He said as he turned back towards you.

“Are you still able to bring out your weapon and everything?” You asked and he nodded and drew his weapon. You were amazed to say the least. Your favorite character literally just popped out of your game.

“This is amazing! I can’t believe you’re here, how did you even manage to get out? Do you plan to go back? How would you even get back?” You rambled on with more and more questions as Diluc just calmly watched you as a small smile graced his features.

He didn’t care about getting back right now, all he cares about was that he was finally with you.

Kaeya

Your day had been pretty rough. Nothing was going right from the beginning so when you finally got back home you decided to just sit down and play Genshin.

When you entered you had realized Kaeya wasn’t in his usual spot which confused you but you decided to do a few quests before questioning it.

Eventually you had just gotten to the point in the Lantern Rite where you had to talk to Kaeya and you were ECSTATIC.

You made your way from Liyue to Mondstadt as fast as you could. And from a distance you could see the marker as it counted down the closer you got to it. As you made your way to fountain there he was.

He smiled at your presence as you ran around him in circles, trying your best to say hi. You stopped in front if him and went through the quest dialogue, praying to Barbatos that he wouldn’t disappear after wards, and lucky enough for you he didn’t!

You hopped up and down out if pure joy.

Kaeya chuckled a bit at your excitement as he put his hands on your characters shoulders to stop them from hopping.

“I have a little surprise for you, I’ve been working on it for a while. I need you to wait here.” He said as he backed up from your character. You watched him as he just disappeared.

“The hell?” You asked out loud, what kind of surprise was this? You expected him to appear back in front of you in game but it never happened.

You waited a little bit expecting something to happen, yet nothing did. Until you were met face to face with the blue haired Calvary captain.

Not expecting the sudden figure to just appear in-front of you freaked out and jumped up from where you were seated, cause Kaeya to go flying.

Luckily it was that far of a distance and he managed to land safely.

“Kaeya?” You asked, thinking you might’ve just had your phone to close to your face.

“Surprise!” He said, climbing back up your chair. He landed on a space where you both could see each other as he finally got a good look at your face.

You had no idea what to say as you looked at the tiny captain in-front of you. He still did some of his idle animations as he stood, waiting for your response.

“How did you get out?” You asked him, leaning down towards him a bit.

“I have my ways.” He replied. It’s Kaeya, did you really expect a full detailed answer? He looked around your room, taking in the new surroundings. It was nothing like he had seen in Mondstadt, for one thing there was technology.

This was entirely new to him, and there didn’t seem to be any weapons anywhere.

Your entire room was practically the size of Mondstadt to him.

“I must say, I didn’t actually think this would work, but I’m glad I could finally meet you.” He smiled, you smiled back, still unsure of what was happening and questioning if you should make an appointment with an eye doctor.

“How long have you been trying for?” You asked looking down at him, he paused as he thought of his answer, the time difference in your world was drastic from that of Teyvat.

“Well it’s hard to say but I have tried maybe, 25-30 times before. I was starting to lose hope if I’m being honest.” He admitted. You had no idea he was this dedicated to getting out of the game

To see you.

It was flattering but also a bit scary to think your favorite character has wanted to meet you just as much as you wanted to meet him.

“This height difference nah be a problem though.” He pointed out with a chuckle.

“We’ll figure something out I’m sure.” You responded

-Birdy

(This basically just serves as an introduction to the idea and hopefully I will have enough time to come back and expand on what they do as tiny people)

[cheeky-kookie]

Overruled | KTH

Taehyung/Reader | Angst, Slow Burn, Royal!AU | Prince!Taehyung x Princess!Reader

Word Count: 12.4K

Summary: You always knew that you were viewed nothing more than an asset when it came to the heart of men. The luxury of meeting someone who saw you for you almost didn’t exist. It just took your whole life being ripped apart to find yourself lucky enough to come across one.

Warnings: Language | Violence | Blood | Imprisonment | Mentions of Death | Non-Main-Character Deaths | Taehyung Risking It For The Biscuit |

AN: This took me forever but thank you guys for sticking with me and waiting for it! I have so many ideas and just not enough time! Keep your eye out for the others I have coming.

Tonight, like many other nights, you sat at the main area with your father. Your eyes wandered the crowd gracing the ball floor. It was a mess of gowns and bodies spinning and turning to the time of the music. It was the same thing every time one of these was hosted. You watched as the nobles enjoyed themselves and drank until there was no care left for them in this world.

If you looked closer within the mass of fabric swirling in front of you, you can see the smiling faces of the ladies as they were enthralled with the idea that the handsome men spinning them on the floor wanted to dance with them. Every one of the couples synchronized with not only the music but with the others as well. All weaving around each other with ease.

This event, like the others, was only for the nobles and other royalties to butter up to your father and win his good graces. They wanted that slim chance to marry you, for that matter. If they win you, they win the crown and unite their kingdom with yours.

Your eyes landed on a man, whom you recognized as one for the princes from the neighboring kingdom. You had only met him once before in passing, but you had to be good with faces. He was making his way through the crowd of people, in the direction of where you sat. Once in front of you, he bowed to both you and your father.

“May I ask the fine lady to dance?” He asked, offering his hand out to you, though you weren’t entirely sure if he was asking you or your father.

A curt nod from your father made your decision for you. You stood, returning his bow with your own, “I would be honored.”

Taking his hand with your own, he led the way onto the floor. Turning you in his direction, he placed his other hand on your waist. Soon, both of you were in sync with the others letting the music guide your movements.

In the many years you had been alive and the many dances you had to endure, you realized no one liked to actually talk. You were nothing to these men who ask for your hand and drag you around the floor. To them, you were a transaction. You were just one step of a bigger picture. Nothing more than an item looking to be sold to the highest bidder.

You didn’t blame your father. He didn’t like doing this to you. It was just how it had to be.  

So, you stayed quiet keeping his eye contact as he led you around the floor. You felt many eyes on you as you two spun throughout the crowd, not needing to look to confirm whether they were really. Your movement was always watched whether it be from your people or the lady-in-waiting who does your bidding whenever you call. You held the smile on your face so the eyes watching would think you were having a wonderful time, and maybe if you smiled enough you could will the idea into existence.

Oh, how you wished it were willed into existence.

A large bang was heard loud enough to be heard over the sound of music and the chatter of socializing. You stumbled as the man directing you halted with no warning. The music slowly dwindled to nothing as each person playing grew curious of the sound. The sound of people talking and whispering amplified by the newfound silence.

Another loud bang.

This time, you felt your heart rate raise a little as you watched as your father motioned to a knight near him and spoke to him as few knights slipped out of the many doors in the room. The man next to you seeming more alert than before though you were more preoccupied with the look in your father’s eyes. He looked put together but his eyes held the one thing you never thought you’d see in them. Fear.

A third one.

With the sound of that one, the room fell into chaos. The doors flung open, splinters and chunks of wood scattering into the air from the brute force of the entry. Unknown figures entered through the destruction armed and ready to attack any and all.

You watched as the men that were attending the ball unsheathed their weapons and jumped into the mess of intruders to help the many knights who have been overwhelmed. The man whom you had been dancing with had left you alone amongst the scared guests.

The whole room was filled with the clanking of metal and yelling, but it was drowned out by the sound of your heartbeat as your adrenaline took over. You realized you were in the open and maneuvered your way toward one of the many columns scatter throughout the room. Once behind it and in cover, you let out a shaky breath you had no idea you had been holding.

You peaked around the pillar; your eyes scanned the room for your father. You noticed him on his feet, fighting against some man who you assumed had entered with the intruders. Deciding to try to make it to him, you searched the rest of the room.

Your eyes only met destruction and bodies; some being the enemy and some your own people. Your eyes even found the image of a small child crying into the chest of his mother who laid on the floor covered in her own blood and unmoving. You leaned your head back against the pillar trying to erase the image to no avail.

With an uneasy breath, you started to head toward your father. You eyed the hand of a dead body as you moved through the chaos, grabbing the dagger from his lifeless fingertips. Once in hand you grasped the hilt, not noticing your knuckles turning a shade of white from the amount of force you gripped it with.

You took a step backwards to avoid a scuffle that was coming from your left, causing you to trip over some debris. You kicked yourself back against the wall as you tried to avoid being the next person lying on the ground in a pool of their own blood. The knight fought against the other man, neither aware you were even there.

You stood back up looking for your father once again. You found him mid fight with the same intruder as before. Closer now, he noticed you were still in the room. He locked eyes with you, which seemed to be all the distraction the other man needed. The blade was shoved dead in the middle of the king’s chest and his eyes grew wide and he grasped at the sword. Once out of his chest, your father fell to his knees and then to the ground.

Your whole world shifted as you felt the sting of tears threatening to blur your vision. Amongst the terrified screams and fighting, your own gut-wrenching scream could barely be heard. Instead of falling to your own knees like you wished you could, you fought against the feeling of your lungs collapsing as you gasped for air; having it knocked out of you from the metaphorical blow.

You started to make your way toward his body when multiple of the heavily armor-clad trespassers noticed you. You couldn’t hear what the one yelled over your still coursing heartbreak, but they started moving in on you. That’s when you took one final look at your father and ran.

You hopped over the heaps of bodies that now scattered the room and ran out one of the broken doors, barely avoiding the swing of a blade that ran astray from a battle you pasted by. Once out of the main room, you found the fight was still going on in the halls as well.

You desperately looked for a way to escape. Deciding the left was arguably safer, you hurried down the corridor. You rounded the corner, knowing there was a passage a few halls further that exited out into the garden where you could hopefully find shelter. You felt two hands grab you and you weren’t entirely sure if he had come from in front of you or behind. Pinned to the wall, you tried fighting him off. You shook your arm free and, with dagger still in hand, you thrusted it between his helmet and chest plate. His eyes grew wide as he released you, choking on his own blood.

You stood frozen, eyes looking between the man now on the floor gasping for air and your own hand now soaked in red. Just as quick as you froze, you were brought back into reality. You switched the blade into your other hand as you wiped the blood off your hand onto your dress which had already been ruined.

It felt like hours before you made it to the passage that lead outside but, it had only been mere minutes. Opening the door, you sucked in a breath of fresh air; something you felt you had been deprived of for too long. You leaned against the now closed door. The newfound silence only broken by your staggered breathing and the sound of your kingdom aflame in the distance.

You heard a conversation in the distance, it not being loud enough to understand. You hoped the dark of night would conceal you from those who you didn’t want to see you. Your breath hitched as you heard the voices come nearer. You had gotten so far, and it wouldn’t mean anything if you were caught. You decided to risk it.

You ran for the hedges, hearing the men now hurrying toward you. You were almost to shelter. Almost. But your foot landed on an uneven patch of ground, causing your ankle to twist and you to tumble down to the ground. On impact, the dagger flew from your hand. You searched the ground for it, but it was too late.

You felt your heart leave your chest as two men grabbed your arms pulling you up from the ground. Kicking, you tried fighting against them, but their strength was too much for you. You didn’t give up, even if it was a useless task.

You were pulled back into the building, which was oddly quiet. It only confirmed the worst, that your kingdom had now fallen. You assumed whoever wasn’t dead was taken as prisoner. The halls became familiar as they tracked back the way you came to the grand chamber.

Once there, your eyes landed on the mass of bodies being moved into a pile at the end of the room. Then they found your own father’s. He was surrounded by a few men, one obviously the king of the intruders and the other, you could only see the back of.

“Your majesty, we found her fleeing. If I’m not mistaken, this is indeed the princess.” One of the men holding you hostage announced.

but to disgrace your father and irritate you. Angered, you demanded they let you go and continued to do so, hoping annoying the poor men would work.

“What would you like us to do with her, sir?” The other asked.

“Shut her up, will you?” He asked, exhaustion dripping from his voice.

You saw the man next to you raise the hilt of his sword and swing it down at you. You couldn’t say what happened next because you in fact had no idea because your whole world went black.

When you woke, you expected to be laying in your bed under your duvet. The hard surface you found yourself laying on was not your bed and it was a rough reminder of the events that took place before you were knocked unconscious.

You opened your eyes being met with the sight of the dirt floor. Pushing yourself up off the ground, you groaned as the pain in your head increased with the new position you now sat in. Your dress was dirty and ripped around the bottom. You weren’t sure if it happened while you were running or when they dragged your unconscious body to where it is now. You noticed the blood you wiped off your hands had darkened as it dried into the fabric of the skirt.

Slightly disoriented, you looked around trying to focus on anything other than your ruined dress and the pounding of your head. You made out an old wooden bench that probably would fall apart if too much pressure was put onto it. Above that, a small window. There was barely any light flowing through but enough for you to determine that it was early morning. Turning your head the other way, your eyes focused on the metal barring you within the small room.

You pulled yourself onto your feet only to trip from the rush of pressure that went to your head. You gripped the bench and pulled yourself onto it hoping that it wouldn’t buckle from the weight. Once sitting on it you leaned your head against the wall and closed your eyes. Your vision still blurring in and out whenever you concentrated to hard on something, you hoped closing them would relieve some pain.

Your mind flashed back to your last conscious memory. The image of your father on the floor and the man standing over him looking at him like he was just some pest that finally got what was coming to him. And then, you were locked away in your own dungeon. You had never really ventured to the castles personal prison on your own accord, so you had no idea what it looked like until now. The only confirmation that you were still within the walls of your home was the residual smell of smoke from the town that was burning the night before.

Tears ran down your cheeks as you let your body fall sideway until you laid on the bench. You didn’t even try to hide your cries, for no one was around to hear you. The impact of your world exploding seeming to be too much to handle and the only thing your mind knew to do was send droplets out of your eyes and sobs from your chest. The only sound to comfort you being the echo of your own cries in the empty dungeon.

What you noticed while you were in your own personal hell that time seemed to blend together. You seemed to wake and sleep whenever your body wanted you to. The only indication of time you had was the little bit of outside you saw through the window. Even then, you weren’t sure exactly how long you’d been locked up. If you had to guess, you would say you were there for maybe a week at the most. The only interaction you had with anyone was limited to the guards bringing you food. Other than that, it was just you alone with your thoughts.

It gave you time to grieve the loss of your life and what you had always known. You spent the first few days crying, having the only words of wisdom being the guards telling you to shut it whenever they decided it seemed fit to feed you. You cried less, though you felt like the hole in your chest would never be filled. You had never gotten to say goodbye and that broke open healing wounds whenever the thought crossed your mind.

You were sitting, staring at the bars from the bench when you heard someone entering the area. You perked up, confused. This was too close to the last time you were fed; it didn’t seem right.

You watched as a figure found its way in front of your cell. From what you observed, he had no idea you sat a mere few feet away. The lantern he held in his hand lighting what the small window of your cell didn’t reach. The back of him looking oddly familiar, but you knew you had no clue who this was or why they were amongst the prisoners of the castle.

You stood, curious of the man. You studied him as he searched the area, finding an old wooden chair. He kicked it into the corner farthest from the cells before setting the lantern town next to it. He proceeded to then sit in it, resting his hands on his legs. His eyes focused on the ground.

You reached the outer wall of your enclosure, lacing your hand through one of the bars as you peered through it in his direction. He seemed almost as if he was overwhelmed or tired; maybe both.

“You seem down,” You croak out, surprised your voice didn’t fail you. You didn’t think it would fail you because you were afraid but because of its lack of use.

His head slowly lifted, reaching your eyes for the first time since his presence was known. Your breath hitched just from the intensity of his glare. His dark locks fell around his face in waves resting right above his eyes, casting a shadow onto them. His head turned to the side ever so slightly as he examined you from the distance.

“I am,” He spoke; his voice as deep as the glare he still held on you.

For a moment, you let the silence take over. His eyes never broke off of you as his words sunk into your being. It wasn’t much of a reply, but it was a reply. It was more of a response than you’ve gotten within days.

You swallowed trying to wet your throat before speaking again, “I didn’t expect you to respond. No one does.”

His eyes didn’t waver away from you as he took in your words. Another silence set in but now that it had been broken, it seemed so much heavier than before. Part of you wondered what could possibly be going through his mind as he stared so intently in your direction, though you knew better than to ask. So, instead, you waited for a response if there would be one.

“Well, surprise.” He said, leaning back.

He rested his upper half against the back of the wooden chair, his body finding a more relaxed position. Even then, his eyes still held on you. For the first time in days, you wondered what condition you were truly in. You assumed you were full of mud, possibly bloody and bruised. You felt exhausted and you knew your face showed it. Not once did your appearance come to mind, but under his intense stare, it was a passing thought you couldn’t shake.

Still unsure if you had full trust in your voice, you cleared it before hesitantly adding to the very short conversation, “Why are you down?”

He didn’t seem to hear you, or well, he chose not to acknowledge your question because he didn’t attempt to reply. You couldn’t quite blame him for his lack in communication. If the roles had been reversed, and you found yourself on the outside looking in, you probably wouldn’t have even batted an eye in your direction.

You let out a quiet sigh, knowing full well whatever socialization you had been gifted had come to an end. Even so, you were oddly satisfied that someone had given you the time of day. It might have been the bare minimum, but it wasn’t nothing. For that you were grateful.

You pushed yourself off of the bars of the cell, letting your hand drop from the one you were grasping.

“Is that dried blood?”

Shocked from his question, you looked down at where you had wiped the mess that had been on your hands days prior. You had almost forgotten about the stain adhered to the fabric you had been wearing, but without a doubt when you looked back down there it was.

You leaned back forward to look at him through the gaps between the bars. He was still looking in your direction, though his eyes seemed to soften as he waited for a response.

“Yeah,” You let out a shaky breath. Memories of that man pinning you against the wall flooded back to the front of your mind. You felt your w burn as you fought the tears, “Yeah, it’s dried blood.”

Silence fell again, which seemed to be a reoccurring theme within the conversation, though this time you weren’t yearning for it to continue. You looked away from him and blinked, hoping the brimming tears wouldn’t cascade down. It was quiet enough you could make out the sound of faint footsteps getting closer to your own cell. You pushed off the door again, this time actually making it to the only seating within room.

You could tell he too could hear the footsteps. He sighed, standing up from his sitting position. He then gripped the lantern that had been comfortably sitting next to his feet the whole time. Just as he did so, a guard rounded the corner, food in hand. You assumed the food was for you.

A peak out the small window of your cell told you more time had passed that you expected, and that it very may well have been time for them to bring you food.

Taken aback by another figure, the guard halted. The unknown man nodded at him in recognition.

“Ah, we have been searching for you,” The guard announced, “The king is in need of your presence, sir.”

You watched as the gentleness in his eyes he had shown you moments before disappeared, only to be replaced with the same tired look he held when he first sat down in the chair. You felt bad for him even though you were the one imprisoned. You wondered if him wandering the prisoners ward was him escaping whatever thing was wearing him thin.

“I’m always needed,” He sighed but still proceeded to maneuver around the guard before disappearing the way he had come.

The guard shook his head disapprovingly, before sliding the food into the cell with little to no care. He muttered something to himself you couldn’t quit make out from your seat on the bench and then left you on your own.

If you hadn’t lost track of the days before, you had now. It had been a few days, or maybe a week, since you had found yourself in the company of the unknown man. You weren’t entirely sure how long it had truly been because you barely noticed the difference between the warm rays of the day and the soft light of the night.

It was hard to focus with your mind being so numbingly bored. You actually started to look forward to the times they brought you the god-awful slop they fed you. The guards, though not the best conversationalists, still bought a difference into your very dull life. They at least bought something to the table that the dirt floor and the rusted iron bars could never do.

You found yourself mindlessly picking at your fingers. The amount of mud and dirt caking to them had become quite evident and you weren’t exactly fond of the idea. You felt disgusting having been in the same clothes days on end. You had come to the conclusion that you’d be wearing this torn up garment until there was nothing left of it.

You heard the squeaking of a lantern echoing from down the hall. It was late, past the last feeding of the night. The guards should have left you down there to drown in loneliness by now. Your eyes fell on the light making it closer to your cell. Even within the small haze of the lamp, there was no mistaking the eyes of the man approaching. He wore a simple shirt contrasting the more up done one you saw him in the first time. Even late in the night, he looked well put together.

Once in front of your cell, you watched him locate the chair he sat in before. He then proceeded to grab one of the torch sticks, lighting it with the fame of the lantern. He stuck it back on the wall, it lighting not only the hall but the cell you were confined into.

You slowly stood up off your seat, curious as to why he was down here again. Or better yet, you were just curious of who he was. He shot you a passing glance as he then bent back over, grabbing something off the chair. You made your way slowly to the barred off area, peaking through the gaps between them. All you saw was his back and the way his shoulders moved under the fabric concealing them. You felt a wash of familiarity come over you like before, but you would have remembered meeting a face like his.

You quickly adverted your gaze when he turned back around, not wanting to admit you might have been staring at him for a tad too long. He walked forward, hands holding what seemed to me a mass of cloth. He stopped inches in front of the bars, his gaze meeting your eyes. He threaded his arm though the bars, handing you what was in his hands.

“It’s not much,” He paused, releasing it to you, “But I figured it would be better than wearing what you are currently.”

You stood silently, excepting his gift. You were taken slightly aback. You had been attacked, chased, and knocked out. You had been thrown in your own castles dungeon and fed like a dog. You didn’t know what to expect but an act of kindness from anyone wasn’t it.

Hurrying back towards the dimmer end of your cell, you set the clothes down on the bench and examined them. The whiff of clean clothes enticed your senses, making your heart race. It was foolish to be so excited over a clean set of clothes, but you were.

Uncaring to whether you had prying eyes, you began to strip out of your dress. It dropped to the floor, along with all the horrible memories it kept reminding you of. You didn’t care that the white shirt that he gave you was eerily similar to the one he was wearing. You were just glad to be out of the thing now laying in a lump on the floor.

Once in fresh clothes, you walked slowly back to peak through the gaps. He sat in the corner, same position as the first time you saw him; arms resting on his legs and head hanging low. You made the conclusion that most likely didn’t try to steal a glimpse of you changing. You watched him for a moment, not wanting to interrupt his thoughts.

“Thank you,” The words come out as almost a squeak, voice being weakened by the lack of use yet again. He lifted his head, eerily similar to the time before yet no intense glare. His eyes were soft, and you were able to see they were a dark brown when not consumed behind the metaphorical mask he wore. He straightened up, running a hand through his dark locks.

“Wish I could have done more,” He said, voice quiet but the silence of the hall amplifying every word that left his lips.

Your heart panged at the kindness being shown for it was a nice change, but the constant state of fear you had come to know gnawed at you like a gnat.

“But why?” Your voice hoarse but you forced the question anyways.

He hummed to himself for a moment, as if contemplating whether he wanted to give you the answer before looking you in the eyes once more, “I wouldn’t want to be wearing someone else’s blood.”

Silence fell between the two of you as you absorbed his words. Your eyes drifted to the dress in the corner before looking back at him. You didn’t know what his reasoning would be, but you never thought it would have been that. You also didn’t expect him to break the comfortable silence, but he seemed full of surprises since you met him.

“What happened?”

You saw the way his eyes caught the refection of the torch fire as the flames danced within them but behind that you saw what you only could decipher as concern, or guilt.

“I was attacked. I did what I had to.” You spoke, his eyes still trained on you.

He nodded in understanding. He then slowly stood up from the chair and reached for the lantern on the ground grabbing that as well. He started to walk towards where he came but stopped in front of the bars of your cell.

He glanced over, “I hope you’re able to get rest.”

The odds of that happening were slim to none, you both knew that. Still, it was another nice gesture that he in no way needed to do, especially to someone who was imprisoned. You wondered why he seemed to be so kind to you, but maybe he was just that. Just as quick as he turned to look at you, he started to leave all the same.

“Can you at least tell me your name?” You ask but it comes out more as a plea. He halted his movements and turned back to you. You watched him turn to look at you once again, this time you watched as one of the corners of his mouth perked up ever so slightly.

“Taehyung.” Was all he responded before both he and the light had disappeared down the hall.

Part of you, almost all of you, wanted something to grasp onto, even if it was just a name.

Fresh air.

The concept seemed so foreign to you now. You were used to the damp and the musk by now, but your mind traveled to that night where everything went downhill. You remembered the fresh air you had inhaled and the slight smell of roses that had engulfed the night.

So, there you were on the tips of your toes leaning dangerously close to the edge of the bench. Your fingers grasped the edge of the small, barred window of your cell. You had been hoping to possibly get a breath of fresh air from the open window.

Somehow, you had propped yourself up enough to barely see out of it. You were surprised to find that your window was located by the very garden you had been fantasizing about. Honestly, you were surprised at yourself for not trying this sooner. Seeing any color other than the brown walls of the dungeon was welcoming enough.

You felt the suns rays hit your face and you closed your eyes in satisfaction. You felt a cool breeze kiss your face and the smell of roses wafted in your direction. You sighed in content, just happy to feel something from the outside world once again.

“What are you doing?” A deep voice broke the silence you were enjoying, scaring you. Your grip on the ledge failed as you tried not to stumble off the edge of the bench. You fell onto the dirt floor despite your attempts not to.

You sat up slowly and turned to the source of the voice. Your voice dry as you responded, “I miss outside, Taehyung.”

You had grown accustomed to his sporadic visits. Ever since he had bought you a change of clothes, he seemed to show up more often though it was never for long. You noticed that he was not much of a conversationalist, but you believed that to be because he always seemed to have something on his mind distracting him. You could see it in the way his eyes never felt they were in the present moment.

He looked away avoiding your glance, “I’m sorry I interrupted.”

The room grew quiet as you watched him walk towards the seat he had claimed as his own. He seemed a little more dressed up than the past few times he had decided to grace you with his presence. His hair though, still fell across his face in waves of black.

You pulled yourself off the floor and walked towards him, leaning against the metal to look at him better, “You always seem so distracted.”

He looked up from his hands and bit the inside of his cheek. He looked as though whatever was on his mind was on the tip of his tongue and he was biting it right back down. He directed his attention down the hall and away from you and your observation. He obviously having no intentions of responding to your statement.

You dropped to the ground, sitting with your legs crossed, “I didn’t notice that my cell was one of the ones located by the garden. I could smell the flowers when I felt the breeze hit my face. I used to walk the garden with my father before, well...”

You raised your arms, motioning to your cell. Taehyung’s eyes found your eyes once again. You let out a  laugh, finding the irony of the situation funny. Here you sat caged away when right outside your window bloomed freedom and life.

His eyebrows raised at your laughter obviously surprised by your outburst. He watched as your smile faded, and your eyes glossed over.

“I miss him,” You sighed, “He wasn’t the best, but he cared.”

“I’m sorry,” He said, and you felt as though he was apologizing for more than just your father’s death.

Your hand traced one of the iron bars in front of you feeling the cool metal under your fingertips. He watched as you did so, finding your ability to be so calm when everything you had known had crumbed to be quite astounding.

“I’m sorry can’t fix what has already happened. I just wish he had gotten a proper burial.” You sighed, looking away from your hand and finding Taehyung’s figure against the wall, “So, why do you hide down here with the prisoners?”

“You’re better company,” He responded, which surprised you. You weren’t expecting him to answer your question because up to this point he had been a master of keeping the focus off him. He always somehow flipped it back onto you and if he couldn’t do that, then he grew silent.

“Me?” You asked not being able to hide the innocent shock that laced your voice, “I’m sorry, but I’m sure there are plenty of people who could keep you in good company that aren’t locked away.”

He chuckled dryly, “You speak to me like I’m real. Up there, it’s scripted. They’re too afraid of what might happen if they said the wrong thing. It’s ‘yes sir’ and ‘anything for you’ but I never hear people’s wants and their feelings. No one wants to have a conversation.”

You felt a wave of familiarity in what he was saying. You felt as if things started to finally make sense for the first time since he began visiting. From the guilty look in his eyes to the kind gestures he had shown. He had felt familiar, but you never knew how until that moment. Your eyes widen at the realization.

“When your father’s the king, you don’t get to just talk.” You replied almost monotoned, knowing too well the way people treated the offspring of royalty even if they were royalty themselves.

His body stiffened at your words. You could tell he wasn’t expecting you to make the connection and it threw him off guard, body going defensive automatically.

“How did you-“ He paused with a loss of words.

“Because that’s how I felt,” You sighed as you remembered the countless nights sitting up hoping someone would truly want to treat you like a human being and not some figure or purchase, “I knew you looked familiar. I- I couldn’t quite place it. I knew I hadn’t met you before. I’d remember a face like yours. I did see you though, standing over my father’s body before I was knocked out.”

“If it were me, none of this would have happened,” He said, gaze falling on your position on the ground.

“You can’t help who your father is,” You reassured not completely sure why you felt the need to, “But, if I were to be frank, your father is a piece of shit.”

For the first time since he had begun coming to your cell to keep you company, you heard him truly laugh. It wasn’t one of those fake ones he had shown you, but a genuinely bubbly sound. It flowed into his whole face, brightening it.

“Yeah, I guess that’s one way to put it,” He responded, a boxy smile gracing his lips.

He began to visit more, and you hated to admit you waited for him. Every time you heard footsteps come toward you the idea that it could be him crosses your mind. Your heart rate would quicken and the bit of energy that your body would produce was evidence enough that you hoped it would be him instead of a guard there to feed you.

You couldn’t blame yourself. If it weren’t for him, you probably would have gone mad from isolation. It wasn’t hard to understand why the prisoners your own father had held for information gave in so quickly. Being alone with nothing but your thoughts to keep you company and entertained could drive anyone mad.

It led you to think of why you were in fact, still alive. You would have thought you would have been discarded by now since you really had no more use. Taehyung’s father had successfully taken over your father’s kingdom from your understanding. Your own father having no siblings of his own left you useless for there was no one to barter you off to. There was no gain from keeping you.

With you deep in your thoughts, you had not been aware that Taehyung had found himself before you. He watched you as you fiddled with your hands, eyes not focused on anything specific. Your mind somewhere far off.

“Care to share what’s on your mind?” He asked, pulling your thoughts back down to earth. You realized he liked to ask you about your thoughts on things and actually hear them. It was much different than the way many had treated you as you grew. You were so used to being a pawn that being treated like a human was refreshing. It was different, but nice.

“Why am I still here?” You asked voicing the very thing that plagued your thoughts, “Your father has nothing to gain from keeping me imprisoned.”

He hummed, “My father doesn’t share anything with me. If he does, he had made the decision long before telling me. He’s never trusted me with much more than simple duties. He thinks I’m troubled.”

“You seem far from troubled,” You responded, finally moving from your spot on the bench. You followed his voice.

Taehyung stood, leaning against the wall directly across from your cell. His arms were crossed across his chest. Normally, you would find the stance intimidating but the way his body was relaxed with no tension made you feel the opposite. A smirk formed on his lips as he let out a halfhearted scoff, “He just doesn’t like anyone who disagrees with his point of view.”

“Your father is warped,” You shook your head, “He would have gained much more from this if he had just sent you to court me. Alliances are worth far more than enemies.”

His eyes found yours at your words and you watched as emotions flickered through them before settling on anger, “My father doesn’t look for the most profit; he thrives in power. He takes joy in destroying cities and taking them as his own. Yes, it would have been smarter to align ourselves, but he would have drowned knowing he didn’t have full control.”

You watched as he shifted uncomfortably in front of you, running his hand through his hair. The conversation not being one he was enjoying, obviously.

Unsure on exactly why you felt the need to, you shifted the conversation, “What do you take joy in?”

“I enjoy going to theatre and viewing artwork,” He responded after pondering for a few moments of silence, “Actually, despite my father’s distain towards the bards, I also quite enjoy their music.”

Your mind wandered for a few moments at the idea that he enjoyed any form of art. It opened up a new layer to him you had barely had a grasp on before. Oddly, you felt elated at the tiny reveal.

“I used to like wandering the garden after raiding the library and finding a quiet place to read. My father didn’t let me leave the castle very often but sometimes he would take me to see a show. I also quite enjoy them.” You responded, a soft smile laying upon your lips at the memory.

Taehyung couldn’t keep his eyes off you as you babbled about what you liked. He also couldn’t help but mimic your small smile though his was more out of guilt than fondness. You seemed so full of life, the one thing he craved from others, and yet you were thrown behind bars to rot. It didn’t sit well with him.

Clearing his throat, he pushed off the wall to move closer to your cell, “Um, I actually bought you something. I figured you were getting tired of the same stuff they’ve been feeding you.”

You watched as he rummaged around in his pocket for a second before pulling out a small wrapped package. He then reached through the bars separating the two of you, placing the item in your hand. His hand barely grazed yours, but you could tell it was warmer than your own.

Curious, you unwrapped the paper surrounding whatever he had smuggled you. Your heart raced at the sight of it. It wasn’t something you normally would be ecstatic about the small piece of pastry in your hands said otherwise. You then took a bite, closing your eyes at the sweet taste and the rich flavor.

“Thank you,” You say softly once you finished chewing.

“It’s nothing,” He said, “I have to return, but I’ll be back. Keep your head up Y/N.”

He gave a small wave before disappearing. You let out a deep breath, eyes finding the pastry still in your hands. Even though he had been gone only moments, you already missed his company.

Trying to do the one thing Taehyung requested was probably one of the hardest thing’s you could have done, but you did it. The only thing keeping you head above water was his visits and the stories of life he brought back with him. It seemed silly but hearing about the minuscule drama that flowed through the halls of the castle gave you entertainment. It made you feel alive still.

From what he had told you, it had been about two months since the total takeover of your home and your very own imprisonment. He does his best to keep you in the loop considering losing track of time down in the dark and the musk was easy to do. You appreciated him for it.

You’ve grown fond of him and you could tell by the way the small smile that never seemed to leave your lips when he was around or the way your stomach twists in knots whenever he told stories he was fond of. But you were definitely certain you had because even when the two of you sat in silence, it was just as comfortable.

Even now, no words between the two of you were being shared but you were in no rush to break the silence. His presence was enough.

“You don’t deserve this,” He sighed from his seated position on the ground, obvious hurt in his voice.

You felt for him. He was a man who was taught right from wrong but forced to stand behind a man who lived for chaos. The same man that drove him to find solace in the dark of the dungeon and confide in you.

Even then, he didn’t say much. You just noticed he would come down bothered and watch to make sure the guards didn’t follow him. Once comfortable, he would fall into what you had come to find as his true self and a very kind man.

Ironic considering who his father was.

You sighed, “This isn’t on you.”

“It doesn’t mean I don’t feel bad for it,” His response quick and slightly irritable.

You could tell he had worked himself up. His eyes locked on the ground and his leg bouncing endlessly to ease the tension through his body. The need to touch him to help calm him down shot through you but passed quickly when your brain deemed it impossible to accomplish. You settled by placing your hand on the metal in front of you, not comforting you or him in the process.

“Tae,” You breathe out, afraid to be any louder, “I’m still alive, therefore, I still have a chance to get out of here free.”

You spoke words that neither of you really had faith in. The odds of you walking out of the cell alive were slim, let alone alive and free. The fact you were even still breathing was a wonder in its own. Though he knew it wasn’t plausible, you still watched as his leg quit bouncing and his eyes broke from the dirt. He still opted to stay quiet.

“You deserve more,” You said filling the silence, “You’re a good man. I’d hate to see your father take that from you.”

You looked away from him decided to give him some privacy. It was odd; the way he got so worked up over the idea you were still behind the iron bars. The very bars under the touch of your fingers. Even abnormal as it was for his reaction to be the way it was, especially since your situation wasn’t a new one, he didn’t deserve to be ogled.

You felt warmth envelop the outer of your hand. The idea of pulling your own hand away flashed through your thoughts, but when your eyes met with another resting on the top of yours all feelings of that were lost.

Taehyung had moved closer, enough to where he could touch you. His thumb grazed your skin in a soothing movement, and you felt the tension you didn’t even know you had flee.

“I’m not sure how but,” He paused, and you surprised yourself with how fast your heart had begun to beat, “I’ll figure something out. I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t.”

The warmth of his hand gone in seconds and part of you longed for it to return. Instead, you watched as he pulled himself off the ground. He didn’t need to announce he was leaving. You knew. He brushed his pants off once standing and you watched dust fly into the air in the minimal sunlight. He then started his way down the hall.

“Don’t do anything to get you hurt,” You pleaded loud enough for him to hear you. He paused his step and turned to look at you from the distance. It ironically reminded you of the time you asked for his name though this time the smirk didn’t grace his lips and his eyes didn’t light up in amusement. You felt as though your voice would fail you as you somehow managed to speak the last bit out, “Please.”

He nodded his head and disappeared. Part of you, if not all of you, had a hard time believing he wouldn’t.

Kim Taehyung wasn’t the one for business meetings. He had been through his fair share of them and they all were so boring and drawn out. He also wasn’t a fan of family dinners. There was too much baggage to weigh him down within one for him to enjoy it. And frankly, he wasn’t a fan of his father. So, when his own father had announced that he had invited important clients for dinner and he was expected to show, he was in no surprise very indifferent. Could anyone blame him? It was the trifecta from hell.

He had really planned on skipping out, but with his father specifically seeking him out and asking personally it meant business. No one, not even the kings son, would go against him; or could for that matter.

A light knock on his bedroom door echoed into his silent room.

“Yes?” Taehyung asked, his eyes flicking to the door that remained closed. He really would rather had not been bothered, but he couldn’t ignore it.

“Sir, your father wished for me to remind you to be in the dining room before the guests arrive.”

As he always did. His father didn’t think he could get dressed for the day let alone show up to a meeting on time. It was all for appearance. He wanted people to know he had an heir to his thrown. He wanted people to know that once he was gone, there would be another to stand in his place. His empire would still run strong.

“I’ll be there.” He called back to the staff, feeling bad for the poor woman.

Once he figured she had disappeared into the massive castle, he proceeded to fling his legs off his bed and go to his wardrobe. He dressed in his less formal clothes, but they were put together enough for his father not to feel like he was bringing shame to his name.

He then made his way out of his temporary sleeping quarters and turned down the corridor. He had gone a few doors down when one in particular caught his eye. He paused his step, looking at it. The door itself wasn’t the thing that caught his eye. Actually, it looked exactly the same as every other in the castle. The archway that framed the door was the reason he had stopped.

Taehyung moved in closer, seeing lines etched into the stone of the doorway. His hands reached out, touching the lines carved in deep enough he could feel every bump under his fingertips. A small smile formed on his lips when he realized they had to be height marks. He was under the impression that you were the only child, so he assumed it to be yours.

“Ah, Sir, there you are,” A voice said causing his eyes to drift away from the notches on the wall to the person in question, “I was just going to check on you.”

Taehyung cleared is throat and let his hand fall from the wall, “I was already on the way. Have they arrived?”

“No, but the king requested me to go fetch you.”

“Well, it’s only down the hallway,” Taehyung sighed, “Or does he have you escorting me there as well?”

The man took a step back and bowed, leaving him to find his own way.

The eating quarters only took moments to walk to and when he rounded into the room it was still empty except for the staff fluttering about making sure everything was ready for the arrivals. He sighed, fully taking in how long of a night it truly was going to be.

The guests arrived a while later, leaving both him and his father to greet them before all taking a seat at the table. He had taken in that the guests were royalty from a few kingdoms away which struck him confused because his father wasn’t one to be social to others. From what he gathered his name Prince Lee and he brought along his own son.

The dinner went as neatly as it could have. Barely anyone had talked, which wasn’t a surprise to him in the slightest. If they did speak, it was to address the staff. No one decided to speak until the short wait for the dessert.

“So, why did you ask us here?” The Prince inquired, causing Taehyung’s eyes to leave and look at the guests.

His father stared at them for a second eyeing the man before responding, “I am aware that your sister was the queen of this kingdom before her passing, am I correct?”

Taehyung felt his stomach drop. He hadn’t realized the royalty his father had invited was in fact royalty related to you. He glanced between the two men. Both were obviously overconfident and neither showed any emotion.

“Yes, you are,” the Prince said taking a drink from his glass and setting it back down, “But as you said, my sister has passed and long before you became in possession of his kingdom. So, why am I here?”

His father chuckled, “I have something you might want.”

Taehyung choked on his drink, which summoned a glare from the king next to him. He sent a small, closed mouth smile to his father in attempts to apologize, not that it would matter in the long run.

“And what might that be?” He asked, eyebrow pulled up as he questioned.

“You are aware they had a child,” the king hummed. Each passing moment made Taehyung want to leave the room, but he had to know how this would play out. He had to know if you would be safe, “I still have her if you were interested. Of course, there would be a price.”

The silence that fell over the table was deafening and Taehyung was afraid that they may hear his own heartbeat which had been pounding since the mention of you. He itched to fidget with something to ease his growing anxiety, but he couldn’t, so he kept glancing between the two.

“What makes you think we want her?” The other questioned.

“She is your kin, is she not?” His father responded causing Tae’s eyes to follow where the sound came from, “I thought I would show good faith and offer you her life. You should be honored I even thought to.”

“She would be dead if you didn’t think you would get something out of this exchange, so what were you thinking? Tell me, and I will deem whether it is worth it.”

The staff came into the room. The hands maneuvered around the room picking up dishes that were done, refilling drinks, and placing the dessert down onto the table. Tae’s eyes followed them around appreciating how it was so well choreographed. Each person moving in and out without interference from another. Normally, he wouldn’t have paid much attention, but he was looking for anything to distract him from the tension in the room.

“I was thinking of an alliance. I heard there were talks of conspiracy against me and my kingdoms. I would be a fool to ignore them. So, I offer you the girl for your arms if need be.” Taehyung’s father offered, his eyes scanning the man across the table.

The other laughed, “Maybe you are a fool if you were to believe my father would ever ally himself with someone of your nature. The girl may be royalty of our blood, but she isn’t worth the risk and embarrassment of being associated with you and your tyranny.”

Taehyung grew cold at your uncle’s response despite how much sweat he had been producing. Without a reason to keep you alive, you would be executed. Both himself and you knew that would be the case despite his denial. He had never felt more shame than in that moment. His own father was the reason you weren’t worth being saved. They had no idea who you were so none knew how worth it you truly were.

He’d risk it if it were him.

“It’s better to keep me on your side rather than not, though I see you made your decision,” The king warned causing Taehyung to cringe internally. Threats were all his dad was good at.

The man on the other side of the table rose, his eyes locking with the other’s, “We are more united than your makeshift kingdoms and unreliable loyalties. Know that if you try, we will take you down. My welcome has worn so I will take my leave.”

Both king and prince watched as the guest exited the dining hall. The silence within the room was eerily loud. Taehyung wouldn’t dare try to talk as all he would get in response was the anger buried deep within his father from a deal that fell through. Not only that, but he was afraid his own voice would give away how shaken he was from the encounter.

“A public execution seems fitting for a royal, don’t you think?” The King voiced to no one in particular. Taehyung swallowed hard at the image that flashed through his mind.

“Isn’t that a little drastic?” He asked, a risk in itself.

His father turned his head and locked eyes with him, “I refuse to let them make a mockery of my name. They will regret their decision.”

The King then stood, slamming his hands against the table. Taehyung flinched back at the action. He then watched as his father exited the hall, leaving him alone with the dining staff. All of them wearing the wide eyes as they too felt the fear he had.

He cleared his throat shaking all of them from their trance, “I am done. You may proceed.”

As he stood, the staff began to clear the dishes and clean the table. He barely noticed the routine they had placed amongst themselves this time. He was too distracted with the knowledge that you had just been officially given a death sentence.

If his father had done this closer to when he had forced himself into power, Taehyung wouldn’t have been so torn. Yet too much time had passed, and now he was drawn to you. He found himself wanting to spend his time with you, even if it was within the dungeons of the castle.

He wouldn’t be able to witness seeing you hanged.

The dungeon was quiet, as it has been for the past week. It was just you, the bars that held you within, and the drunkard that had been thrown within a cell a few down from you that didn’t know begging wouldn’t get him anywhere.

You hadn’t realized how reliant you had become to the Prince’s visits. It was lonely being there with nothing but your thoughts. You tried your hardest not to let them consume you because you’ve seen what isolation does to a solid mind.

Time seemed to still be a foreign concept to you. The only way of being able to tell was the small window that would fade from light, to dark, to back again. Though, when you looked out from it, you were able to see that your garden was indeed looking less vibrant than before. You assumed that autumn would be on its way soon.

The rickety bench laid beneath you, somehow still able to support your weight despite the use it had endured within the past few months. Your arm found rest laying across your eyes shielding the sun that peaked through the window. Your mind wandering to daydream about freedom. Something you knew would most likely always stay a dream.

The clearing of a voice broke through the silence, “Am I interrupting?”

Your mouth opened slightly at the familiar voice. You removed your arm from your eyes as you went to push yourself into the sitting position. There he stood on the other side of the bars. His hair was disheveled and hung into his eyes.

“Not much for you to interrupt, is there?” You respond, standing up and walking towards the metal. The closer you got, the easier it was to see that he seemed concerned behind all the fringe. Despite his obvious distress, he gave a weak side smile at your attempt at a joke. It fell almost instantly. You cocked your head to the side slightly, trying to meet his brown irises, “What’s wrong?”

He stayed silent at your question, his eyes finding the dirt floor below him. His weight shifted from foot to foot as he tried to process what was on his mind. You didn’t push him as you figured that he would end up letting what fogged his mind out into the open. He wouldn’t look so troubled if he didn’t plan on telling you.

Yet, there was no need to tell you. You already knew from his actions.

“There was a meeting a few nights ago,” He started, his eyes finally finding your own, “I was surprised he wanted me to attend. When I found out that it was a prince from a near kingdom it made more sense. He wanted to look the part of a great king. When he arrived, I come to find out that he was the brother to the queen, your mother. My father offered him a deal. Your life, for an alliance.”

You nodded, taking in the information. The corners of your eyes stinged as you held back tears, “And they didn’t take the deal.”

“No,” Taehyung swallowed hard, “My father plans on making an example out of you. He scheduled a public execution within the next few days. I- I don’t know what to do.”

A tear slipped down your cheek at your solidified fate, “Nothing, there isn’t anything you can do. This was always going to happen.”

It was your turn to find comfort looking at the dirt below as another tear slipped. You told yourself that you were never going to get out of this situation alive many times, but the reality was finally hitting. Your will seemed to dwindle within seconds as you watched the hope you shouldn’t have held onto get crushed under the news.

Taehyung reached through and grasped your hand, enveloping it within his own. He tried to sooth you the best he could with the barricade in the way. He would have brought you to his chest if he could have, but alas, it was impossible. It was almost painful to see you so distraught.

“I figured you’d want to hear it from me,” He said, the sadness in this voice evident.

You looked up at him. His eyes were red and glossy from him holding back his own tears, you could tell. You almost wanted to thank him for being so strong because you just couldn’t anymore. He pulled the hand he had within his own through the bars and up to his lips, placing them gently against your skin. If only you were able to relish in how they felt on you then on your own impending doom.

He pulled away, letting your hand go gently. You pulled it back to you and laced your fingers around the metal in front of you, “If only we had the chance to meet in different circumstances, Kim Taehyung.”

“I agree,” He voiced. He straightened his body and bowed to you, “Princess.”

Your heart ached and this time it wasn’t for your life, but for him. Your whole life, you knew that you were nothing but an asset in a bigger game. Men came from many kingdoms to be in your good graces, and your fathers, so the families could merge and become a greater force. You always knew that a prince would come and sweep you off your feet, even if it was just for their profit.

But this prince in front of you was nothing like the ones who always stared over your shoulder seeking your father’s approval. He yearned for the day to shed the foul taste his own father left in many’s mouths. He was thoughtful and understanding. He saw you as a person. That was something no one seemed to be able to do. Even now, with your dirty clothes and matted hair, he bowed to you as if you stood before him in a gown looking to be courted.

When he stood, he held a sad smile, “I have to make an appearance, or they’ll send out a witch hunt for me.”

“Do what you must,” You respond. He nodded and turned on his heels, “Thank you.”

His movements halted more a minute at your thanks before he then continued down the hall.

Taehyung couldn’t shake the sick feeling he had in his stomach as he stood behind his father in front of the towns people. It was only a few hundred, far less than home, but he assumed the night his father came parading into the town there were many casualties. They might have had more in number before then.

He was used to the dirty glares; He had gotten them since that night, not that it was new then either. The staff that hadn’t died in the attack continued to work within the walls for the new royals, though the stares and cold air were obvious. Yet, the look of the commoners faces as they waited for the king to speak in itself spoke wonders. None of them wanted to be there. None of them had respect for the new King.

Taehyung didn’t blame them one bit.

He shifted his view from his father slightly to the right. His eyes landed on the execution stage, causing his stomach to churn. It was simple, which was all it needed to be. The rope hung slightly too high for your small figure to reach, which he assumed why a step stool lay not too far off. A man stood there, dressed in black, readying himself for his job.

It didn’t take long for the King to grab the crowd’s attention, them fearing that if they weren’t their village would go right back up into flames, “We are here for the execution of the only blood left to from the king before me.”

As he said that, you were dragged onto the scene. It was almost a mockery as they cleaned and dressed you up as if you didn’t just spend months within the confines of a cell. Your hands were bound, making it easier for the guard to drag you around. They also gagged you, so you weren’t able to speak. Taehyung assumed it was so that your words couldn’t influence the town into a revolution, and so no one could hear you scream.

The crowd itself seemed shocked; most probably assuming that you had already perished with the first attack. They didn’t know about your blood-soaked gown or the will you used to even survive that night.

The walk to the execution stage seemed to take so much longer than it should have. Taehyung could have blamed it on you struggling within the guards arms, but really, he knew the real reason was the anxiety of what he was about to witness.

He wondered if this was what the people who had loved ones on death row felt as they were forced to watch them hang.

But then, you were on the stage standing under the rope. The struggling had stopped. If there were a chance for you to escape your fate, it would have happened before then. You scanned over the crowd, exceedingly calm for what was about to happen.

Taehyung could hear his heartbeat in his ears as your eyes found his and stayed on him. He couldn’t help but wonder what was going through your mind at the moment. He couldn’t even properly filter through his own thoughts; he couldn’t imagine yours.

The executioner then placed the bag over your head, cutting your eye contact off and shielding the onlookers from the gore that was about to occur. Then, the rope was placed around your neck and tightened. Then he left you there, alone, as he went to stand by the lever and awaited his orders

Taehyung’s mouth went dry as his father demanded the attention of the audience once again, “Your kingdom was a disgrace when I came. It didn’t take me but moments to take over and make it my own. We are cleansing the kingdom with this execution. With my actions, we will rise to become untied and undefeatable. It’s time we-“

The King’s words fell off as he coughed, blood splattering onto the ground. The crowd erupted into a murmurs and screams as the sword that punctured through the king’s chest was withdrawn, leaving him without support. He fell to his knees holding the wound that was now profusely oozing blood.

Taehyung stood, sword still in hand. The blade itself was drenched with the blood of his father. The guards that surrounded them drew their own weapons, pointing them at him. He kept his composure, though honestly he felt anything but that. The sound of his father hitting the floor echoed in the silence.

“Stand down.” He voiced outload to the guards. It came out far more steady than he thought would have, but he wasn’t complaining.

He watched as the men debated doing as he demanded, though the shallow breathing of his father seemed to be proof enough for them to still stand strong. His eyes risked a look down at the dying man. The pool of blood under him continued to grow beneath him, staining the wood he laid on. Then, his chest seemed to have stilled.

Taehyung always knew his father would parish from the hands of someone he had wronged, because frankly, he was a horrible man. Yet, Taehyung didn’t know he was going to be the one to perform the fatal blow. It didn’t surprise him that he felt no remorse.

“I said stand down,” Taehyung said, more power within his voice, “As King, I demand you to stand down.”

The guards still seemed hesitant, but one by one they sheathed their swords. Taehyung followed suit, placing his own bloodstained weapon back in it’s cover. He glanced once more at his father’s corpse before turning to it. He pushed the body with his foot as if to double check that he was in fact dead. He then refocused his attention on what was important.

He jumped off the platform and hurried his way over to the execution stage. He waved off the executioner from the lever, making sure there could be no mistake.

He sighed to himself at the image in front of him. He had watched quite a few executions in his time, having the father he had, but they all were faceless. He didn’t know them, but he knew you.

He reached out and pulled the knotted rope from around you neck, freeing you from death’s possible grasp. Once freed, the rope swung freely though it would soon still once more. The bag thrown over your head was next, giving you back your sight once more.

Light flooded into your vision, confusing you. Your eyes adjusted slowly, and they found the familiar eyes you had come accustomed to seeing while you were imprisoned, though this time there were no bars obscuring his face. He was just as handsome as the last time you saw him, maybe even more now that both of you were out of the dimly lit dungeon.

He reached around you, untying the knot that tied the gag. You looked at him, “What did you do Taehyung?”

His eyes hardened a little at your whispered question as he moved to work on the ties on your wrists, “Nothing that wasn’t going to happen anyway.”

Your eyes then focused on the body lying in the distance and you sighed. Of course.

Once your hands were free from the restraints, he moved back within your line of sight. He only spared a second of a warm glance before addressing the crowd, “You were brought here under the assumption that there will be an execution today. I’m sorry that the plans had changed. The princess is not sentenced to death anymore. Please return to your normal routines.

As much as he sounded like a true leader, he looked nervous and shaken. With your now free limbs, you shuffled over toward him taking the chance to lace your hand within his in attempt to lend him strength and comfort.

He looked over at you, eyes once again softened. A soft squeeze of your hand telling you that you had made the right decision.

You looked at yourself in the mirror, appreciating the dress you were wearing. You never thought you would miss the process of getting dressed up in extravagant dresses to socialize with other royals. After being a prisoner for months with nothing but one change of clothes the whole time, you didn’t necessarily mind now.

To be honest, you thought you were dead. It wasn’t hard to deny the awful truth when the days behind the bars turned into months. What solidified it was when the bag was placed over your own head and the noose tightened around your neck. It was hard to deny anything at that point. You were going to die.

But nothing came despite the obscured vision and the rough twine rubbing against you.

Your savior being none other than the man you had found comfort in for months. Meeting his eyes comforted you yet again despite all your confusion.

You never thought that he would have taken his own father’s life just to save your own. He literally risked everything to save you, even his own life. You owed him far more than you ever think you could return since everything you owned in your life already belonged to him.

He still was king.

A knock echoed into your room, breaking the comfortable silence. You peered over at the door as it creaked open only to close after the new presence was within the walls.

The man leaned against the wall taking in the view, causing you to feel as though you needed to hide from embarrassment. A boxy smile crossed his face at your reaction. Trying to ignore him, you returned to your reflection making sure everything was in place.

“Why haven’t you gone down to the event?” You asked, taking a peek at him from the corner of your eye.

Taehyung let out a small chuckle at the idea you proposed at him, “A King shouldn’t ever enter an event without his Queen by his side.”

A small smile crossed your lips as you turned and walked towards him. He excepted you as your wrapped your arm around his own. He leaned over placing a gentle kiss upon your head before he escorted you out of the room and down to the hall.

-   -   -

Thanks to @ggukkieland for giving me support this whole time! Here’s your tag love!

-   -   -

[bitsandbobsofwriting]

The aftermath of Merlin snapping, and yelling at Arthur in the middle of the forest;

Arthur pushes for change, the gang takes bets on when Merthur will happen, and someone, somewhere, is grumpy.

Part 2 of Merlin’s Angry Outburst. 

Part 1   Part 3   Part 4   Part 5

Once Arthur has a first draft of the repeal, the first people he brings in on it (with Merlin’s approval, of course) are the 5 knights, Gwen, Gaius, and Morgana.

(Morgana, who later that evening comes back to Arthur's chamber in tears (Merlin is also there) to reveal her magic, and thank him for not being Uther.) 

All of them enthusiastically agree, after only a little conversation.

Elyan and Leon are the most... dubious, but only because of the practical factor, they don't disagree with the actual repeal.

After months of the gang working in secret, they reveal their best draft to the council. At least half the council are new members that Arthur appointed, the rest are left over from Uther’s time.

They argue back and forth for a while, half vs half. A few of the older members, who were around before the purge, slowly start changing their minds.

In the end, it takes them maybe a month to get a majority, and Arthur overrules the remaining opposition. He is King after all, technically, he doesn’t even have to have a council.

Days after the agreement is reached, Arthur goes out personally to collect a few specific Druids, who had been waiting just outside the border for the go ahead.

It takes maybe another month to go through all the laws thoroughly, changing and editing and altering what needs to be altered. With the help of Arthur's close advisors on the political aspects, and the help of the Druids, Merlin, and Gaius, on the magical aspects (what should be allowed freely, what should be monitored, and what should remain fully banned).

The city celebrates when the announcement is made, they all loved the new King anyway, and had been overjoyed with the drop in executions, and deliberate ignoring of small instances of magic.

After a feast to celebrate the new found freedom among the people, the gang gathers once more, in private, and Merlin tells a shortened version of the story he'd told Arthur all those months ago.

None of them are that surprised (Gaius, Morgana, and Lancelot already knew, of course).

If they hadn't suspected Merlin of being a sorcerer before this whole thing started (Leon, Gwaine, and Gwen definitely suspected) , then they had certainly begun to in the last few months. They cheer when Merlin finishes telling them "just how often I've saved your oblivious arses" .

They cheer even louder when Arthur announces that he would be made court sorcerer, and it would be made official in a ceremony before the week ended.

There are no cheers when Morgana stands.

Curious eyes land on her, probably due to how terrified she looks, but the small encouraging nods and little smiles she gets from her brother (her Brother), Merlin, and Gwen, give her the strength she needs to tell everyone of her magic as well.

They see she is frightened, they imagine how difficult it must have been, being at first Uther’s ward, and then his daughter. They smile gently, and she receives hugs a plenty. Once all the congratulations are out of the way, she sits back down next to Gwen, still shaky and full of adrenaline, but happy.

She spends the remainder of the group’s quiet celebrations with her hand gripped in Gwen's under the table.

(Read this how you want, I personally envision it as the start of something)

So the days draw on, Merlin is announced Court Sorcerer, Arthur hires another manservant and gives Merlin a large set of chambers in the same hallways as Arthur's, complete with all the books on magic Arthur can find, and several of the magical artefacts that had previously been kept locked away (Merlin and Arthur are the only ones who are able to gain access to the room, something magicky I guess).

(No one mentions that that corridor is supposed to be for royalty only. Leon figures they're bound to realise that they're in love with each other any day now, and then Merlin will practically be royalty anyway so... might as well cut out the middle bit of having to shuffle chambers again later on).

The kingdom is prospering, and for months after the initial announcement, and implementations of the new laws, sorcerers and nobles from all over Albion, visit Camelot, to give congratulations to the King.

They give gifts and provide knowledge.

The Druids, however, are a slightly different story.

The ones who had been helping with the paperwork, had been... odd(?) around Merlin. But they respected his wish to keep all of that under wraps, or at least until it was announced publicly.

Arthur and Gaius know the whole Emrys story. Lancelot and Morgana know bits of it... but other than that... as far as anyone is concerned, the newly promoted Court Sorcerer is just another wizard.

The new Druids entering the kingdom are paying brief respects to the Forever King (I mean... at this point, he's still only King of Camelot... which is what he was before the magic ban repeal), before staring in reverence at the Court Sorcerer stood by his side.

They respect his wishes to keep the worshipping and gift giving to a minimum, though they still come to him for requests of miracles and ask him to perform druid ceremonies (blessings and name-givings and weddings and funerals (though they prefer to call them celebrations of life, rather than commiserations of death) and such).

Merlin can only brush off so many displays of such awe before the rest of The Gang demands to know what’s up, at which point he has to come clean about the whole... “Most Powerful Warlock To Ever Walk The Earth” thing.

Much to Merlin’s chagrin (and everyone else's amusement) the Druids still insist on calling him Emrys. The stubborn ones sometimes even go for "My Lord Emrys", which gets them a scowl from Merlin (and barely concealed laughter from everyone else).

Maybe... later on... when Morgana is more comfortable with her magic, after a few months practicing with Merlin (with a supportive Gwen Always at her side) , she is announced as the Court Seer.

Merlin had never had much luck with prophetic visions, but once Morgana’s fear died down, once she learned to let it flow, and breathe through it, the visions come easier, and kinder.

She stops seeing only visions of doom, and worst case scenarios, instead she has dreams of the many paths the future may take.

She does not panic when a path seems grim and dark, for she has a King and a Warlock and Gwen, by her side. Always. And they work through the future together.

So the ban has been repealed officially for around 6 months.

Arthur is a couple months away from completing his second year as King. And he and Merlin are still beating around the bush.

The betting pool for when they’ll finally get together has been growing bigger and bigger. Practically the whole castle is in on it now, with Gwen and Morgana as the ring leaders. Whoever wins... will be very lucky.

(It's Leon in the end, he pays attention, and he know what his boys are like. But he's a noble and has no need for the money, he pays for a few rounds of drinks and donates the rest to one of children's homes in the lower town).

But the war comes first.

~

Camelot has been prospering, and has many supporters throughout Albion, but one of the kingdoms, it doesn't matter which, you decide, does NOT like this.

Scouts and small patrols have been needling Camelot’s borders for months now, and Arthur and his Council (and Inner Council) have been making quiet preparations. They know that some sort of... something, is coming soon.

Especially when Morgana begins to dream of battles and blood and lightening.

They prepare for, and expect, a full scale war, but they hope for some negotiations and a peace treaty with the opposition.

Their hopes are dashed, when a messenger is escorted into the throne room, wearing The Opposition’s colours, with a letter.

Said letter is an angry rebuttal of everything Camelot stands for, full of accusations of abandoning tradition, and spitting in the face of great leaders, of which this soft boy-king should NOT be counted as. 

At the end, there was an official declaration of war.

The messenger boy was obviously scared to death, and once Arthur read the P.S, which invited Arthur to torture and/or execute him to the whatever extent he wants, he understood why. Without any hesitation, he offers the boy a job in the stables, a new wardrobe of clothes, and a servant’s bed in the castle.

After the official council meeting on the matter, setting up war committees, laying out contingency plans, organising the distribution of emergency evacuation plans, and discussing potential aid that could be requested from allies, Arthur pulls the gang together, for their own meeting.

“We knew this was coming, and there is no need to panic yet. Our outer borders are well patrolled, and we’re still getting up to date reports. The city walls hold strong, but I want to send out patrols to warn the villages of what’s coming. Start closer to the border, and work our way in. Leon?”

“My Lord, I have teams prepared for exactly that already, I just need to give the word and they’ll go.”

“Good. Morgana, I need you to try and keep focusing your visions, if we have even a small idea of how they might try to initiate the first battle, it’ll be a huge advantage.”

“Me and Merlin have been practising some new techniques to control where and when I can see, we’ll write everything down, and ask the Druids if they’ve seen anything as well.”

Arthur holds in a smile at the confidence in her voice. He is unendingly proud of how far his sister had come, and made a mental note to tell her that when all this was over.

“Brilliant, keep me in the loop. Gwen, when we’re done here, go and let the forgery know, the Royal Household will pay them extra to push out as much long range ammunition as they can. Arrows and crossbow bolts, we need as many as they can produce.” Gwen nods, and Arthur finally looks towards Merlin:

“And Merlin, I need you to be ready. Don’t wear yourself out too much in the next few weeks, I need you in good condition, if we’re to win this with minimal casualties-”

He glances over at Morgana before he continues:

“If the two of you could also ask the Druids if they have any volunteer healers. Make sure they know they aren’t obligated to come, but any help in the infirmaries would be greatly appreciated.” Morgana nods once more, as does Merlin, before he speaks:

“There’s a camp a couple hours ride outside the city at the moment, we’ll head out at first light-” He pauses and closes his eyes for a second, tilting his head, before looking to Morgana:

“They’re expecting us.”

Arthur addresses the room again:

“Right. I think that’s all for now, anyone have anything to add?”

Gaius responds after a moment:

“My Lord, if I could make a request for a few servants to help me set up supplies for the infirmary? Extensive preparations will need to be made to ensure that I have all I’ll need. Preferably people with rough herbal knowledge, if at all possible.”

Arthur nods straight away, responding:

“Yes, of course, I’ll ask the Housekeeper and the Steward who they can spare this evening, and they’ll be ready for you in the morning. Anything else?” At the silence in the room, Arthur tells everyone to get to work.

Leon marches straight down to the training grounds (Lancelot, Gwaine, Percival, and Elyan following him) to ring the summoning bell and inform the knights of the developments, and their tasks.

Gwen heads straight to the forgery (her and Elyan still oversee work there, but they have employees (and a few trainees) to run it) to give the Kings order.

Gaius shuffles out, and makes his way back to his quarters, already making mental lists of ingredients needed, and work to be done.

Arthur, Morgana, and Merlin are left, the royal siblings thinking to themselves, and Merlin thinking to someone else. Arthur contemplates that the whole mental link thing he had going on with the Druids was extremely useful.

Both his and Morgana’s thoughts were interrupted by Merlin huffing, and clenching his fists as he opens his eyes, obviously unhappy with whatever was said:

“Merlin?” From Morgana has the Court Sorcerer looking up from scowling at the table. He replies after wiping the frown off his face:

“Oh, it’s fine. They just made a... stupid suggestion is all. Don’t worry about it.”

“Stupid? Doesn’t sound like the Druids. What was it?”

Merlin looks mildly uncomfortable at that, and replies slowly:

“It... doesn’t matter. I’ll tell you another time. It’s late, you should practice some meditation and head to sleep, no potions tonight. And remember to keep some parchment and a quill by your bed, so you can scribble down anything you see-”

Merlin stands abruptly and heads towards the door:

“-I’m going to check the wards on the outer wall, and push a little more energy into the wells. I’ll see you both bright an early.” With that, Merlin heads out the room swiftly.

Arthur looks to his sister questioningly, but she shrugs as she responds:

“Who knows. “I’ll tell you later” means he doesn’t want you to know, OR he’s hoping I’ll forget because he doesn’t want either of us to know. He’s right though, I should meditate for a while-”

Morgana stands at this:

“- hopefully I’ll see you before we head off, if not, I suppose it’ll be dinner in the evening. Good night, brother.” Morgana leaves the room gracefully, heading in the direction of her chambers.

Arthur thinks for only a moment, before rushing off, catching up with Merlin as he readied his horse, preparing for the journey to the outer walls:

“I’ll come with you. I find I quite enjoy watching you do magic, and to be perfectly honest, I could do with some fresh air to help me think.”

Arthur pretends to ignore the slight blush that dusts Merlin’s cheeks, and readies his own horse. The two of them ride out of the stables and make the journey down the cobbled roads in comfortable silence, side by side.

They take their time on the journey, and the 15 minutes of companionable silence is finally broken by Arthur, who looks at Merlin curiously, as he says:

“So what did they suggest?”

Merlin looks up sharply at that, broken from his deep train of thought as he dumbly replies “What?”

“The Druids. What was the stupid suggestion?” Merlin’s eyes widen at that, and he blushes once more as he looks determinedly forward:

“Oh. That. I told you, it doesn’t-”

“Merlin...”

“Oh fine! They suggested that I... that I forge a mental link with you. Like the one I have with them.” The sorcerer purses his lips at that, and continues to avoid Arthur’s gaze:

“You can do that? Well... would it be such a bad idea? I mean we aren’t going to be able to meet and discuss things as often as I’d like through this whole ordeal. AND you’re basically the Kingdom’s powerhouse, I’m sort of relying on your magical know-how here. Surely it wouldn’t be a bad thing? For us to be able to converse across the battle fields?” 

Arthur, in an effort to not be hurt, reminds himself that he doesn’t know all that much about magic, and it very well could be a stupid suggestion, instead of one that Merlin is just personally opposed to.

Merlin, in response, looks to Arthur in great shock, before sighing and looking down to his horses mane:

“It.... is possible. And fairly easy, technically. But it would be painful, AND permanent. I wouldn’t be able to undo it after we won. And a temporary connection takes far too much energy to maintain, even for a short time. I just figured you wouldn’t want me in your head for the rest of our lives.” He tries to inject a little humour into his words, but it falls flat, and he just seems sad.

Arthur pretends he doesn’t notice however, and responds quickly:

“How painful are we talking? I mean I’ve been hurt pretty badly before. And... how exactly does it work? Would we be able to read each other’s mind constantly, without the other knowing? Or what?”

Merlin raises his eyebrows in shock at that, and his answer comes out slowly as he looks at Arthur:

“Like... a really bad headache? Imagine the hardest you’ve ever been hit, without passing out. It would last for a few minutes after the connection is initially forged, but would fade slowly over the next day or so. And no. Once the connection is established we wouldn’t be in each other’s head all the time, we would just be able to sort of... project our voices to one another. Other thoughts would be safe, even if you were thinking about me, I wouldn’t hear it unless you were thinking to me... if that makes sense.” 

By the end of his explanation, he’s looking nervously at the King, who is deep in thought:

“Hmm. Ok. I... only if you agree but... it might not be a bad idea. Even after the war is over. There have definitely been times where I’ve needed your opinion on something but you’ve been elsewhere, or we’ve been in the presence of someone else. Of course we’ve been fine so far, if you don’t want to, but-”

Merlin interrupts him, speaking quickly:

“I’m fine with it. I agree, it would be useful. So... I can bring what we need back from the camp tomorrow?”

Arthur nods firmly:

“Yes. The sooner the better, we can do it tomorrow evening, if that’s enough time for you?” Merlin once again looks shocked at this, as Arthur stares at him:

“Oh! Yeah, Yes. That’s fine. Like I said, it’s not particularly difficult, and I can ask Gaius to prepare us something for the pain during the day. Are you... are you sure? It is Permanent.”

Arthur rolls his eyes and huffs:

“Yes, you said that already Merlin. Are you sure?”

Merlin nodded his head decidedly, and spoke confidently:

“Yes. You’re right, it’s not a bad idea. Come on, if we hurry, we’ll make it to the walls, and then to the main well, and then back to the castle, before dark.”

The pair of them hurry their horses, and after another 10 minutes of comfortable silence, they finally reach the City Gates.

The guards give a quick bow, and The King and The Court Sorcerer jump off their horses before handing the reigns to one of the Gate stablehands.

Arthur (and the guards) watch in barely concealed wonder as Merlin presses his hands against the rock of the wall, and closes his eyes.

The golden glow can still be seen from below his eyelids, and he hums slightly as he frowns in concentration, seeming to push into the wall.

Arthur sees a short of... sheen, ripple across the rock, and extend into the sky. Merlin steps back and nods, admiring his handy work:

“They’re holding strong, I’ve extended the height as well. Kilgharrah and Aithusa should be the only ones able to get over it without alerting me now, from the air at least-”

Merlin heads to retake his horse, Arthur following him, before he continues:

“Though I still want to check the tunnels again at some point in the next few days.”

“Of course. Relax Merlin, it’s barely begun, and the borders still hold strong. We’ve plenty of time before things kick off in any way.” He makes sure to speak quietly. A public announcement hasn’t been made yet, and it would be bad if rumours started spreading before The King had time to put together a proper disclosure.

Merlin nods distractedly, and urges his horse to go faster as he heads towards the main well, in the town square. It’s late, not long until sunset, so there shouldn’t be many, if any, people there. Arthur speaks again:

“Why are we visiting the well? I wasn’t aware of any problems?”

“There aren’t any, but once the announcement is made, and once the outer villages are told what’s happening, we’ll have hundreds, probably thousands, of people flock to the city for safety. I just want to make sure we’re prepared for such an influx, and boost our water levels a little.”

Arthur nods at his response, but doesn’t say anything. He chooses instead to admire the man Merlin had become. He held himself differently, more strong, confident in who he was. Just like he had back when he was still a manservant, he served Arthur, and his people, above and beyond his job description. Merlin took upon himself, not only the politics he was supposed to oversee, but the personal safety of both the King, and every Camelot citizen, and he did it all with an alarming amount of grace.

Arthur sometimes catches himself thinking that it was almost as if Merlin was built to be a king. He may not like the spotlight, but he was a protector, and leader, unlike anything Arthur had ever seen before.

“I don’t think I ever thanked you, Merlin. It feels like years ago now, that you yelled at me in a forest.” He says it with a grin, but Merlin flinches. He continues before The Sorcerer interrupts him though:

“Really Merlin. Thank you. You were right, I would’ve got there in the end, but it wasn’t fair for people to suffer in the mean time, and you took the fall in their place. You’re a hero to your people... and to me. You should be proud of your accomplishments, I know I am.” 

Arthur resists the urge to duck his head as Merlin looks at him in bewilderment, a definite flush on his cheeks as he replies:

“I... thank you, Arthur. I always had faith in you-” Merlin begins to grin before he continues:

“-and besides, someone had to knock you down a peg. Perhaps you should hire someone to take you into the forest and yell at you every once in a while.”

Arthur laughs at that, and Merlin tries to push down the blush as Arthur responds:

“Now Merlin, why on earth would I hire someone for such a job, when I already have you?”

Merlin chuckles as he answers:

“Yeah, and don’t you forget it, My Lord. Hold the horses, I’ll just be a minute.” With that, Arthur realises they’ve made it to the well, and dismounts as Merlin has, holding both of the horses reigns as he watches Merlin approach the well.

The Sorcerer crouches down, and once again closes his eyes in concentration as he presses his hands into the stone of the well. The glow is a little less bright this time, but Arthur admires it nonetheless.

Merlin finishes quickly, and gathers his horse from Arthur once more, nodding towards the castle.

Arthur follows as Merlin hurries towards the looming building. He wasn’t sure why he was in such a rush, but he only begins questions it when Merlin hurriedly hands the horses of to a stablehand, and continues to run up the castle steps.

Arthur can only just keep up with Merlin, not having the breath to ask him what’s wrong, before Merlin suddenly comes to a stop, catching his breath for a moment to go through a door leading to the highest balcony on the West of the castle:

“Merlin... what.... what are you-”

Merlin wordlessly interrupts The King as he points to the skyline, the sun only a few minutes away from touching the horizon.

There’s not a cloud in sight, and the sky is painted in oranges and pinks in front of them, bleeding into deep purples and blues behind the castle.

Merlin finally mutters, not looking away from the sunset:

“Call me a girl all you want Arthur, but nothing compares to this. It’s beautiful, I come to watch it whenever I’ve got the time.”

Arthur had only glanced briefly at the sunset before looking back at Merlin in wonder, a fond smile on his face (not that Merlin would notice).

He stares at the side of Merlin’s face, the orange sky making the gold in his eyes look even brighter, and the glare of the fading sun making his hair shine. A gentle breeze has Merlin shiver slightly, and Arthur’s smile widens as he responds, so quietly he’s not even sure if Merlin hears him:

“Hmm. Beautiful.” He doesn’t look away.

~

THIS IS COMPLETED! All 5 parts have been posted:)

If y’all want my thoughts on anything specific let me know✌️

[uniarycode]

Takari Week 2021 Day 5- AU

Medieval Fantasy AU: Takeru is a young boy who tames a Pegasus and goes to live in a castle in the sky, with an army of Celestials, and a young prophet.

Wordcount: 3370

Written as part of @takariweek

Takeru didn’t have many memories of being on the surface, they tended to involve either his brother, his father or Pata. The former two he missed dearly, the latter seldom left his side these days.

He’d been four when he met Pata, he’d found the foal frolicking in a field, doing summersaults over the meadow. It was against the rules to interact with creatures you did not recognize, but the Deep Ones had not been seen near his village in generations, and Takeru was couldn’t help but take the risk. And Pata just seemed so friendly. Takeru had shared some herbs he’d found, and that had been enough to earn the foal’s undying loyalty.

Pata had been his secret for a while, it may seem difficult to hide a horse, but Pata could fly, most did not look for horses in the trees or on rooftops. Some that did thought they’d gone insane rather than believe their eyes. Pata became Takeru’s closest friend, his chief confidant. Without knowing the proper name for a flying horse, Takeru had decided to call him Pata, based on the gentle sound of his wingbeat. The name stuck.

He was six when Pata had been discovered. He and his brother were gathering some goods from the market, when some bigger boys from the next town over had begun attacking them, attempting to force Yamato to hand over all their money. When Takeru had cried for them to stop, it was Pata who had answered his call, galloping straight at the boys, and scaring them away instantly.

Such a large commotion could not go unnoticed, and immediately the villager’s opinion of him became divided. Some treated him with scorn, as a devil that possessed authority over monsters, others with reverence, as a sacred omen.

The priest showed up at his door a few weeks later, flanked by two outsiders, cloaked in armor and robes the likes of which far outshone even the knights of the capital. Takeru had been scared at first, until one of the knights, a woman, had summoned her own steed and told him he was very special.

She’d explained to him that they were Celestials: the goddess’s chosen. That since he had bonded with a Pegasus, that he too must have been a Celestial. And that the Deep Ones and the celestials were fated enemies.

After that, there had been questions, they asked him how he had met Pata, whether he’d ever road the horse, what his dreams were like, if he’d ever traveled outside the village.

Far more questions were directed at his parents, they asked his lineage, where his parents came from, where his parents’ parents came from, at one time they’d even accused his momma of having stolen him from another woman.

Takeru didn’t understand it at the time, but things were very complex. Celestials did not like outsiders, but since he’d tamed a Pegasus he couldn’t be an outsider. But they could not say the same about his family.

In the end, his mother had been allowed to accompany him to his new home, and his brother and father had been left behind. Even when he was old enough to ride Pata freely, he’d been forbidden from making contact with them, and he’d quickly learned how big the world was when he tried to anyway.

Life was hard with the celestials. On the ground, they said that the goddess lived in a palace in the sky, guarded by her knights. Inside the sanctuary, the tale was similar but different. The one they protected was a prophet, who died and was reborn every one hundred and eight years. And while they had many knights, the Celestials regarded their entire race as chosen ones, the only ones worthy of serving the prophet and able to defeat the king of the Deep Ones.

Being born on the surface made Takeru inferior in the eyes of the other children. That alone earned him hardship, but he had also bonded with a Pegasus at a record age. Despite having no proper training, he was years ahead of his peers, and that brought him further scorn.

***

At eight, Pata had turned into a stallion, and that had brought a conundrum for the Celestials. By right and custom, Takeru was now a squire. The next youngest squire had recently turned twelve, the eldest squires were eighteen. Takeru was simply too young and small to perform the duties provided by most squires.

He could clean the stables and feed the Pegasi, although still at slower speeds than the older squires. But he could not carry weapons for a knight, nor was he tall enough to help them into all of their armor, nor did anyone trust him to ride Pata more than three feet into the air. He was never picked to accompany a knight on a campaign or a quest.

Then he had been given a new duty. One that none of the other squires talked about. As he’d been summoned in front of the elders, they informed him he would not talk about this duty, that it would be taken with him to the grave.

That was the first of many rules.

He was told he would be delivering food to a guest, as well as refreshing the oil on their lamps. He was not to talk to the guest he found. Nor would touch her. Nor would he touch the food, only the tray used to bring it to her. He would set the tray in front of the guest, fill all the lamps in the room, then stand in the corner until she had finished eating, retrieve the tray, and leave.

And of course, no harm would come to the guest.

After he had accepted one of the elders objected, then another, then another. They were all overruled, and a knight directed Takeru to the kitchens.

It seemed silly, to have a knight guide him around, but send a squire anyway. Takeru followed the knight into the castle, through some twists and turns, to a small door guarded by two more knights.

They reaffirmed his directions, then let the door open a couple of feet, barely more than he could fit himself and the tray through. Even then, he was not at the guest. He had to walk down three more hallways before he found her.

He opened the final door to reveal a girl who looked no older than himself, to his shock. But he was a squire now, he couldn’t show such a weak reaction. The rest of the room was fancy, if cramped. A large four-post bed, a single dresser for clothes, no chair nor desk nor anything else. On the walls hung lanterns and tapestries, and in the corner of the room, there was a lectern with paper, a pen, and a chute.

He walked over to the guest and set the tray down in front of her when his eye caught a tapestry draped across the wall. So deep in the bowels of the castle, this room had no exterior light, and he moved to get a better view in the flickering lanterns.

The tapestry itself displayed a great battle, many knights fight deep ones and a strange giant monster. On the edge of the tapestry were eight symbols he did not recognize, perhaps they were words in an ancient language? Each one held a separate color: yellow, pink, red, purple, blue, green, grey, and orange.

The lantern flickered, reminding Takeru of his duties. He turned back to the tray, remembering he’d left the oil there, only to jump in horror as he saw the guest, one hand on the canister full of oil, bringing it to her lips.

“Stop!” he cried, “You’ll get sick if you drink that.”

The girl turned to him; eyes wide at his outburst. Takeru realized his mistake, raising one hand to his mouth.

“You can talk.” She said, “I’ve never talked to anyone before, except my cat. But she doesn’t like talking back.”

Takeru felt his heart speed up. He’d already broken the rules, but the guest seemed so excited. Why wasn’t he supposed to talk to the guest if she wanted to talk? His mom would yell at him for being rude.

“Yeah, I can talk.” He thought for a second. “How’d you learn to talk, if no one talked to you before.”

“Learn?” she asked. “I always knew how to talk, like how I know how to breathe or eat or write.” She said as if it were obvious.

“You know how to write too?” he asked in amazement. All the other squires knew how to write, but none of the teachers ever bothered to explain it to him.

“You don’t?” she asked. “So you can talk, but not write.” Her face twisted into a smile. “You’re an odd one.”

That was true, he was the only celestial who wasn’t born a celestial, he became a squire at such a young age. But somehow when she pointed it out, he felt all funny.

“You should eat.” He said, “You must be hungry.”

“I don’t want to eat. I want to talk. Everyone else left when I finished eating, you will too, won’t you?”

He blushed. “I-I’m supposed to.”

“And I don’t want you to leave. If I never eat you have to stay.”

That didn’t sound too bad, but he did want to see his mom and Pata again at some point. “If I take too long, they’ll probably never let me see you again. Then I won’t be able to talk to you anymore.”

“You have a point.” She said, grabbing the utensils and beginning to shovel food into her mouth. “Whurts your name. Everyone has a name, even my cat. She won’t tell it to me though.” she said, not bothering to swallow before speaking. Takeru’s mom would have called it rude, but if it's what it took to keep her eating, he could accept it.

“Takeru Takaishi.” He said, beginning to fill the lanterns around the room. “What’s yours?”

“I have many names. Guiding Star, Eternal Shepherd, Prophet of the Goddess. I like Hikari the most, though.”

Takeru ended up spilling some of the oil, he quickly tried to recover himself. “You’re the prophet? What are you doing in a place like this?”

He could have kicked himself. The room, while cramped and locked away, was still far better than the dormitory he shared with the other squires or the cold tower they’d relocated his mother into. And she had said that both were fancier, if not larger, than their old home on the surface.

“This is where I’ve always been.” She replied. “And you? There’s something mysterious about you, I can tell.”

Should he admit it? Somehow he felt he could trust this girl, she was the prophet after all. “I lived on the surface before, unlike the others. Everyone says Celestial’s are stronger than the surface dwellers.”

That earned him a laugh from Hikari. “Do they? How quickly they forget. The only reason this castle exists is because they were too scared to fight the Deep Ones themselves. They chose to flee to the one place they could not be harmed before mounting any resistance.”

Takeru looked at her, blinking. “How’d you know that, how old are you?”

“Eight. But I just know that. Like how you know to talk or write.”

There was a clatter of metal against porcelain. “Oh, I guess I’m done.” She looked down. “I was having so much fun, I must have forgotten to go slowly.”

“It’s okay.” He said. “You were probably hungry anyway.”

He lingered like that a few minutes more, neither of them talking beyond pleasantries, before he finally excused himself.

The next day he was not chosen to bring Hikari her meal. But he was the day after. That pattern continued for a couple of weeks. Eventually, Hikari admitted that whenever someone else brought her meal, she would send a letter to the elders insisting it was him who came instead.

The elders must have gotten the hint because Takeru began to visit Hikari as part of his daily routine. No one but the elders and some of the knights knew his task, but all of them regarded him differently. Like back when Pata had first been discovered. Some looked at him with reverence, some with scorn.

He and Hikari talked about everything they could, sometimes they even talked about the same things on different days. Hikari was very knowledgeable about the outside for someone who had stayed in one room her entire life and never talked to anyone. She claimed the knowledge was natural, instinctive.

One day he’d been talking about his brother, how he’d left him behind to join the celestials, and how much he missed him.

Hikari had held out her hand in response, Takeru had hesitated at first, he wasn’t supposed to touch her. But then he also wasn’t supposed to talk to her. When he took her hand she closed her eyes and began to describe a scene for him.

A young blond boy who worked the fields by day. He stayed separate from the other kids when they gathered, but kept himself close enough to watch them play. He’d fashioned a flute out of a reed, and played it only when he thought no one else was around.

She told him that his brother missed him very much.

After she released his hand, she confessed to having a brother of her own. But as she’d not been two when she’d been moved to this room as part of her duties, and she was worried that her brother had forgotten her. However, she could scry her brother at any time and learned he’d recently bonded with a Pegasus so that in a few years he’d have the qualifications to serve her himself.

***

That time came when Takeru was eleven. He’d not known, which boy to look for at first, but when a fourteen-year-old with the same dark hair as Hikari had joined the squires and the very next day he had not been told to bring Hikari her meal, he was smart enough to figure it out.

Having someone else to feed Hikari also allowed Takeru to leave with one of the knights on a quest or two. He was still the youngest of all the squires, but he had more years of training than all but the eldest. Some knights still shunned him due to his birth, but those who were willing to take him along were also quick to ask for him again, whenever he wasn’t needed to keep Hikari company.

It was after one such quest that he’d found Hikari ranting, complaining about her brother’s seeming vow of silence. It was at this point Takeru had admitted there was a rule against speaking in her presence.

“You break the rules? Every time you visit me?” she asked.

“I like you more than the rules.” He said, “Besides, you’re the Prophet. You’re probably the most important person here. You should make the rules.”

“I did make the rules.” She said. “In my past life. The past prophet always makes the rules for the next incarnation.” She looked at him “Is that odd?”

Takeru shrugged “I don’t know anything about my past life, I’m not a prophet though.”

She nodded. “Did you break any other rules?”

“I’m not supposed to touch you.” He admitted. “But you were always the one who asked.”

“That’s because I like touching you.” She said. “You make me feel nice, like watching the clouds part, or the first sunbeam cresting a mountain to welcome the new day.”

Hikari tilted her head. “Why would I tell no one to talk to me or touch me if I want to talk to everyone and I want you to touch me?”

Takeru shrugged. “Are you sure you made the rules, maybe the elders changed them?”

She shook her head. “They wouldn’t dare. They do not know how my gift works; I don’t even know how my gift works. For all they knew I would know as soon as they tried it.”

“I don’t know.” Something caught his eye. “But if you can’t talk, that doesn’t mean you can’t communicate.” He pointed at the lectern in the corner. “How much paper do you have? Taichi knows how to read and write.”

“The paper and pen are blessed; they don’t run out.” She said. “That might work, but if Taichi won’t talk to me, why would he write to me?”

“It’s not against the rules, is it?”

His scheme had ultimately proven successful, although it had taken a few days to get Taichi on board. Soon enough the siblings were truly reunited, and Takeru had never seen Hikari or Taichi looking so happy.

***

When he was fourteen, Hikari’s demeanor changed. She became more withdrawn, more distant, even to him. He couldn’t ask Taichi directly if it were the same, no squires were supposed to know who anyone else in charge of Hikari was, but he could tell that the older squire had grown more somber as well.

He confronted her directly. It took a couple of days, but he wore through her resistance.

“Takeru, you break the rules every time you come here, right?” she asked.

“I do.” He said, “But they were your rules, and you wanted me to break them, right?”

“They were.” She agreed, “I think I understand now.”

“Understand?” he pressed “That I talk to you because I enjoy it?”

“No.” she said. “Why I would make rules I barely tolerate and enforce them on myself.” She looked at the tapestry. “I think, I think I needed someone who could break the rules.”

He reached out and grabbed her hand, “Hikari, what is going on?”

“Promise me.” She said, “Promise me you’ll break the rules for me. No matter which rules. Please Takeru, you’re the only one I can trust with this.”

“I do.” He pulled her into a hug. “I’ll break whatever rule you need me to. I swear. Just please, let me help you.”

Her tears began to stain his shoulder. “Kill me.”

His blood turned cold. “What?”

“Kill me. Please Takeru, everyone else here, they think I’m a saint. They won’t let me so much as stub my toe. Even my cat won’t scratch me. You are the only one who can do this for me.”

“Hikari, I don’t understand. What is going on?”

She took a deep breath. “I had a vision. The Deep Ones were back. I watched them conquer nation after nation, I watched as even the Celestials fall. I watched them kill Taichi, I watched them kill you.” She swallowed. “And I saw all that because I was there. I was leading them, I made it happen.”

“Hikari you would never.”

“I will.” She insisted. “I’ve never been wrong before. I’ve never heard of the prophet being wrong before. This is the only way I can think of, I need to give up on this life and hope for the next one.”

Her arms squeezed tighter around him. “Please Takeru, you’re the only one I can ask.”

“No.”

“No? No! But you promised! You promised me you’d do anything!”

This was the first time he’d seen Hikari get mad, and it scared him, but still he did not relent. “I promised you I’d break every rule for you. And I will. If you tell me not to visit you again, I will break that rule. If you decree that I must kill you, I’ll break that rule as well. If it’s a rule that the profit’s visions must come to pass, then I’ll break that rule too.”

“You’re being stupid.”

“Ahh, Hikari. I’m afraid that I must break the rules of logic as well. I made a promise, you see.”

She scoffed at him, but for the first time in weeks, she was wearing a smile.

[malewifegradyruewen]

Ceux Qui Ne Meurent Jamais

i created the google doc less than three hours ago i-

if any of y'all speak french and notice that the title is weird please lemme know, i used google translate but sometimes that sucks-

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tagging: @fire-sapphics @zoyyanazyalensky @dirty-racoon @della-vacker-supremacy @raiinyrxse @lucat13 @tiergan-andrin-alenefar @genyyasafin @cadence-talle @thewhiteblades and lmk if you want to be added/removed!!

The tall doors of the manor were nothing short of intimidating, and Nathalie had been standing outside for almost ten minutes, too afraid to knock. The air reeked of disregard and disrepair. Nathalie knew that education of the self was an unpopular stage, and many of the others had just cycled out of it, but she hadn’t expected Marchant Manor to be so silent. Even though the superior at the child’s manor had informed Nathalie that there would be two other ladies there, it seemed to her that Lady Sylviane had been wrong. The house seemed all but abandoned.

She stood outside a few minutes longer, wishing her childhood friends would have chosen education of self as well. Viviane and Roselyne had selected exploration, and Ivanna and Nadine had picked discovery. The five of them had made up one of the largest classes at Hazelford Children’s Manor, but they’d announced their separate paths at their going-away party. Nathalie could still taste the sweet chocolate cake and the bitter wine they’d been fed. It was hard to believe that had been only two days before.

The wind blew colder, and Nathalie drew her cloak up closer to her face. If only stage cycles didn’t happen in the coldest part of the fall. She couldn’t deny that part of her was also nervous to knock for fear of those who lived there, but the cold chilling her to the bone overruled any fear she had before. With one hand, she reached out to grab the ornate brass knocker and knocked it three times.

Barely a moment had passed before the door flew open. Behind it stood a woman wearing her dark hair pulled back into a bun that was starting to fall out. Her deep red blouse and brown skirt made Nathalie, in her pale blue child’s dress, feel inadequate. Although she didn’t look a day older than Nathalie, she knew that one of the ladies in the manor was one stage older than her, and the other three stages.

“Hello! You must be Lady Nathalie! Come in, out of cold!” the lady cried. Even as Nathalie stepped into the dark foyer, she could tell that this lady had a warm personality. “I’m Lady Lucie, second cycle.” She slammed the door shut, pushing it closed with all her might.

“Hello, I’m Nath-” she caught herself, remembering what Lady Sylviane had taught them. “Lady Nathalie. Pleased to make your acquaintance, Lady Lucie.”

“Oh,” Lady Lucie laughed. “You can do away with formality with me. It’s just me and Lady Brigid here, so I don’t mind. We’ve been here, just the two of us, for eight years. Education of self is a dying stage.”

“Ah,” Nathalie agreed. She wasn’t sure what else to say. It was clear that very few ladies chose education of self, and even fewer were sent to Marchant Manor. The crumbling stone building had clearly seen its glory days long ago.

She’d always thought the manor she’d grown up in was large, but Marchant Manor’s foyer alone was as large as the entire banquet hall of the children’s manor. What she also noticed was that the armchairs scattered around were all covered in heavy cloths, a visible layer of dust resting on top.

“Oh,” Lady Lucie said, following Nathalie’s gaze. “We don’t come here often. This manor is meant for thirty ladies, but there’s only three of us, so we closed off the rest of the house. There’s at least three sitting rooms that are closed off. We have three washrooms, four bedrooms, three sitting rooms, a library, a kitchen, a dining room, a banquet hall, and a ballroom that aren’t closed off. Speaking of, would you like to see your room?”

Nathalie nodded, and reached to the bags she’d set on the floor, but Lady Lucie was fast. “I can carry that,” Nathalie said as she picked up her remaining bag, but Lady Lucie was already partway up the grand staircase at the far end of the foyer. Nathalie followed after her, afraid to lose sight of her in the large building.

She tried to soak in every detail of the ornate house, from the carved stone staircase to the painted details on the ceiling, but Lady Lucie was almost out of sight, turning a corner just as Nathalie reached the top of the stairs. She jogged after her, turning to see a hallway with about a dozen closed doors, and a row of chairs set up about three doors down. They were covered in the same thick cloth as the armchairs downstairs.

One of the doors creaked open, and Nathalie realised it hadn’t been fully closed. She pushed it open to find Lady Lucie setting her bags down on a bench at the end of the four-poster bed. She turned to face Nathalie and said, “It’s not much, but it’s all yours.”

The room was huge, a four-poster bed with dark, silky curtains taking up only a fraction of the floor space. The tall windows looked out over the back garden, with a wooden desk under one window and a vanity under another. A forest green rug sat underneath the bed, extending several feet past it on all sides. The room was three times bigger than the bedroom she’d shared with Roselyne and Nadine at the children’s manor. She wasn’t sure if this manor was unusually large or the children’s manor unusually small, but it was certainly a change from the only place she’d ever known.

“This is wonderful, thank you,” she said, placing the remainder of her belongings on the bench Lady Lucie had already placed her things on. “Is there anything I need to know? When is supper?”

“Depends. We cook a roast on Sundays, and visit the market on Tuesday and Saturday, but it’s whenever you’d like most nights. I quite enjoy cooking breakfast, and we eat around nine in the morning, and then late lunch and dinner on our own usually. But tonight we’ll be eating together, all three of us. Supper will be at seven-thirty.” Lady Lucie spoke a mile a minute, but her words were crisp and clean, so Nathalie could hear every single one clearly. “If there’s anything you need, the kitchen is downstairs and down the hallway to your right. I’ll leave the door open. You might want to change before we eat, and I’d suggest we keep the formalities, at least for now. If that will be all, I’ll leave you to get settled.” With a small nod from Nathalie, Lady Lucie left, pulling the door shut behind her.

Nathalie stood in silence for a moment before walking and flopping onto the bed. Seven-thirty was a long time away, and the journey to Marchant Manor had been a long one. Her class had awoken before the sunrise, and left the children’s manor just as the sky was beginning to lighten. Even now, she could tell the sun was setting beyond the hills in the distance. The days were shorter but by no means had the day of travel been short itself. They’d been in a carriage for almost seven hours, with stops to deliver Nathalie’s former classmates to their respective manors, and so they could stretch their legs. Both of the manors before her stop had been large and beautiful, and her dismay at finding the decrepit manor she would be staying in had been immense.

She still wasn’t sure how she felt about the manor, or Lady Lucie. She didn’t even know the name of the other lady in the house. Hopefully, supper would provide a sense of enlightenment, but until then, she had little to do but take a nap. Nathalie removed her cloak, placed it on the bench at the end of her bed, crawled across the spacious bed, and lay down. Just a short nap so she wouldn’t fall asleep during supper.

[aalapdavjekar]

8 Lessons from Vipassana

2010 was a peculiar year. It was the year in which I found the great fortune of stumbling upon a book about the bizarre incidents and experiences of an Australian girl voyaging through the Indian subcontinent. The book — a 21st century rewrite of the lore of the hippie trail, offered little towards cerebral surprises, but made for a curious viewing of the life of someone who was brave (or foolish) enough to have gone through all the trouble that she did for the experiences she sought.

The author chronicled days spent discovering religion and spiritual heaven while avoiding hell — nosy neighbours, opportunistic rickshaw-wallas, and the odd would-be rapist. She portrays an all too familiar India — the world’s spiritual shopping mall serving food-poisoning on Tuesdays, vehicular accidents every Friday, and frightening latrines as a daily course. Not all of her pages carried so much drama, but they laid out a rough sketch of the trials and tribulations of the average foreigner in attempting to make sense of the country.

The smallest chapter in the book spoke to me the most. There was a tiny passage that depicted the joy and punishing solitude of the type rarely considered as thrill — monastic rituals, austere and rigorous routines, distress and hardship — it seemed a bit too much for anyone, let alone a solo adventurer. And yet, it seemed like just about the only thing she really enjoyed during her trip.

That was my introduction to Vipassana. That first memory is still fresh: the desire to confront this awkward specimen of a situation for myself, only because, at the time, it seemed so bizarre. To my ignorant mind, I could not have comprehended the result of ten long days (and nights), sitting around without the utterance of a single syllable. If nothing else, it would just be yet another substance: to taste, chew on, spit out, and rave about having conquered yet another mountain of sensory input; spin it all into a tall tale of profundity and wisdom.

Thankfully, the taste was sweet. To me, this became pretty important. It felt like a gigantic discovery and I often found myself proselytizing like a broken record for days after the first course. I eventually stopped for being seen as a bit of a nuisance, however, my fascination with the practice only grew with time. In those ten short days, I had experienced a deep, resounding change from within. As difficult as the journey had been, I only knew I had to keep going.

That was all ten years ago. 2010 was peculiar, but a dozen Vipassana courses later, life only became weirder.

It’s the stark contrast that gets you; the juxtaposition of life inside a course, and then witnessing the world outside. It is hard to illustrate and is not really the point of this post, but I mention it only because I’d like to warn you that many of the lessons I’ve learnt are all experiential truths. Simply engaging the intellect is not enough. You can’t describe the taste of salt to someone who has never experienced it before, and you can’t learn to swim simply by reading about it.

With that said, understand that even though I have been practicing for a while, it does not mean I have achieved any form of mastery over my practice. I still consider this as the just the first step in a very long path. I share these insights, all of which have broadened and enriched my understanding of not only myself, but of all-encompassing experience existence in itself. My only hope is to encourage you to sit down and focus on your breath.

1. Relaxing meditation is more like aggressive deconditioning…

The mind is a big ball of accumulated, tightly-knotted habits. Habits are not merely mundane proclivities like picking your nose, or a preference for K-pop. Habits are the set of all unconscious tendencies, picked up over the course of one’s life and through generations past, resulting in present thought, action, or both. Natural instincts such as the struggle to survive and the urge for sexual gratification are among the densest of elements residing within the mental landscape.

Mental forces are easiest to imagine when you think of them as analogous to Newton’s Third Law: each action has an equal and opposite reaction. As the mind sees, the mind does. Cause and effect. Through millions of years of evolution, the mind has been shaped to recognize and react to patterns. Certain emotions may result in specific thoughts. Certain thoughts may result in specific behaviours.

When you sit down to practice Vipassana, you essentially train yourself to observe the mind without reacting. The process may not seem like much but, with time, the simple act of observation decreases the rigidity and impulsiveness of the mind. Gradually, the simple act of watching it unravel before you, unveiling its knots until they loosen and eventually fade away, brings about a significant change. This does not mean that after ten days of meditation you will deprogram your mind and achieve liberation. It is a very gradual process. Believe me. Even after all these years, I’ve only scratched the surface and, so far, I’ve managed to adopt a slightly better diet. But I have better focus, more clarity of thought, less anxiety, and things that used to drive me crazy don’t annoy me as much anymore.

Meditation will change your brain. Thoughts included.

2. You are your mind’s weak, pathetic slave.

At any given time, you have very little conscious ability to overrule your genetic programming, emotional state, and natural surroundings (many have even argued that there is no such thing as conscious control and free will is an illusion, but that is a discussion for another time). The goal of meditation is to break free from the mind’s thrall: it’s patterns of thought. That’s the liberation that meditators keep referring to time and again.

If you find it hard to believe how little control you have over your mind, try to focus continuously on the breath just for a few minutes and notice the amount of thoughts that manage to pop up. You’ll quickly see how easily the mind is carried away. It’ll drift away, either to the future, or to the past. Bringing it back and keeping it in the present is a constant, seemingly endless struggle.

Our toxic addiction to our own thoughts creates the biggest hurdle. Over the course of our lives, we have been conditioned by our parents, school, society, even language, to think a certain way. Like the words we associate with objects to learn the alphabet in kindergarten, we continuously associate abstractions — words — to ideas; to the way things work. Our names for objects, people, places, feelings, situations, etc. are just names. They are concepts that are formed in the mind. In other words, our brain holds maps to reality which are drawn and redrawn over the course of our lives. But the map is not the territory, yet we are constantly under the delusion that the map is real.

Our fascination and attachment to our artificial concepts of what is real, important, and urgent is what hinders progress— the practice is essentially training the mind not to identify with one’s thoughts. In other words, to heal trauma, you need to learn to dissociate with the feeling which triggers the trauma. Trauma comes in many shapes. It may take the form of the stories that we forge for ourselves to make sense of who we are. The story we tell ourselves turns into the very bondage that keeps us in indefinite servitude to the mind.

The mind is a slippery serpent, as dangerous when untamed as it is powerful when mastered. Most beginners often find it frustrating how difficult it is to ‘control’ their minds. But therein lies the effort. It is a skill to be cultivated like any other. Exasperation and the desire to stop is a natural byproduct of the conditioning described earlier. There is an inertia to progress that needs to be continuously overcome. With time, it gets easier.

Meditation is simply a tool to harness and rein in the unruly mind.

3. Everything is connected. Every action has a consequence, and it matters.

This can be argued as a simple scientific principle. Richard Feynman in his lecture, “The Relation of Physics to Other Sciences,” describes the artificial divisions we create, forming a myriad of distinct models of understanding to comprehend and explain to ourselves aspects of the same reality. Brian Cox takes it even further.

My understanding leans towards the philosophical side, but bear with me. Most religions and spiritual traditions preach purity of mind, speech, and deed. Whether through scripture or ritual, they teach compassion, loving kindness, mercy and wisdom. I’ve realized that there’s more to this than mere morality.

To greatly simplify this, let’s imagine the world as a closed, finite system — something like a small swimming pool. Any kind of movement results in ripples that gradually extend across the body of water, affecting everything in their path. Eventually, given enough time, those ripples will bounce right back to whence they came. Sooner or later, your actions will meet their maker. But don’t mistake this as a need to be nice out of selfish necessity. The picture is bigger than this.

The world, much like our hypothetical swimming pool, is a melting pot of events resulting from simultaneous interactions causing countless, spontaneous consequences. It’s a chain reaction and an ocean of chaos, with the ebb and flow of individual currents that mingle, coalesce and form waves, crashing into one another to give us the great churning of the wheel that Buddhists speak of, and the agitation that we are almost too familiar with.

The turbulence, in essence, is the mind being washed away with the tide, engulfed and drowned in the vicissitudes of a constantly changing life. To remain steadfast and solid in such stormy waters would require nothing short of supreme mastery in the art of mindfulness. A cornerstone of such an endeavour requires the cultivation of a conscious effort to sustain complete awareness and acceptance for the present moment.

When one remains vigilant of thought, speech, and deed, and acquires a resolute and unwavering focus, then all the torment the ocean can muster will be but powerless against this tranquil state of mind. But even beyond that, tranquility will give way to reflection, understanding, and empathy. In other words, when you respond to anger with love, you cast water over the fire.

With practice, each action undertaken will arrive with more effort, more purpose and consideration. That is the delicate insight to be gained — that every action, every moment, every breath is sacred. Every bit of conscious presence is a gift to be treasured.

4. Nothing matters as much as you think it does…

Vipassana meditation is an exercise in cultivating insight through self-observation. You watch your breath and the sensations across your body as they arise and pass away, each time acknowledging their transient and impermanent nature. That, you come to realize, is the truth of all reality.

You realize that suffering is a form of mental attachment, not to any external object, but to the sensation that object has on your mind. This attachment is sometimes so subtle and imperceptible that it is impossible to witness it without a mind that is steady and calm. These attachments are what cause dukkha or suffering. Attachments are not limited to sensations that feel good. Any sensation that makes you feel like had more of it or less of it — desire and aversion — is attachment. The mind runs after pleasure, runs from fear and pain. These are attachments and they are a hindrance to the practice.

As you grow into your practice, you will gradually slip out of your old patterns of thought, replacing them with a more open, willing, and fluid presence of mind. What once bothered you may gradually dissolve into nothingness. What once seemed as part of you, possessed you, caused emotional havoc when you didn’t get what you wanted, might simply vanish from existence. No, you won’t turn into an emotionless robot. No it won’t make you give up everything in life, turn into a vagrant and move to the beach, unless you already desired those things. Meditation will only help sort out what you really want.

Practice will help you detach yourself from your thoughts until you realize that your thoughts are not you. Feelings come, feelings go. They are impermanent, and they don’t matter. All it requires is time and the simple act of observation.

5. You are not an experiential bubble.

For many beginners trying to embrace the many forms of mindfulness, one of the toughest obstacles to overcome is doubt. It may be doubt in oneself, doubt in the practice, doubt in one’s teacher, and so on. But it’s a natural response to something new, especially to those completely unfamiliar with these types of practices. Imparting trust is a transactional habit. Unless one is certain of attainable benefits and can measure their worth, they may find an unwillingness to take even the first step.

Couple a doubtful mind with the myriad of mental encounters one may face during meditation and the result might just kill the desire for practice. People have reported everything from swirling lights, out-of-body experiences, synesthesia, to demons. This is not unusual. Meditation is a gateway into the unconscious — a surgical procedure as S.N. Goenka, the person who brought the teaching of Vipassana back to India, describes. Through the process of Sankharupekkha (observing mental formations with equanimity), the practitioner encounters dormant impurities in the unconscious that rise to the surface of the mind, and manifest themselves as physical phenomenon.

Juxtaposed with modern-day culture, the meditative experience stands out like a sore thumb, often causing its students great confusion and mistrust in the very quality of what they are learning. It doesn’t help that the ideas and general philosophy presented by spiritual traditions are outright antithetical to “western” schools of thought.

Concepts such as avidya, anicca, dukkha, shunyata, samsara and nirvana are like salt. These are concepts that are almost impossible to understand through mere language—one must personally taste them. They are often horribly misconstrued and usually thrown out, replaced by a far shallower understanding that barely skims the surface of the teaching, conflating meditation with stress reduction and labour productivity. After all, these are the values our industrial societies can easily relate to.

We often make it harder on ourselves by letting our experiences fester. Remember to talk about them, discuss them, debate their true essence, and let them be out in the open. Let these ideas, however alien, achieve coherence and solidity. Give them a better chance to struggle and survive. There are many people out there experiencing the same reality, watching the same movie, feeling the same thing. The emotional outlet, especially when you are starting out in this practice is immensely valuable. It’s a small thing but it matters.

After my first ten-day Vipassana course came to a close, as the new students could finally open their mouths and start speaking with each other about their ten days spent in silence, we could all see the benefits this strange new thing had given us. I was in a room full of fifty-odd people that seemed to have had a similar experience in the course as I did. They all seemed calmer than on the first day, happier for having made it through; in the process, they had visibly changed. That’s what brought forth trust in the system; not only because it seemed to work across a diverse set of people, but because it made me realize that we are all in the same boat.

6. Compassion takes practice.

There is no absolute right or wrong. Understanding which is which requires not only context but patience. An impulsive and ignorant mind does not have the capacity to form correct judgement. An angry and intolerant person cannot be trusted to make rational and thoughtful decisions. Why do you need to develop proper judgement? The simplest possible answer: to progress in your practice. Hence, while Vipassana may bring insight, on the last day of each course, students are taught a slightly different type of meditation.

Metta, meaning ‘loving-kindness’, is a type of meditation that involves concentrating on directing love towards ourselves and others, even those (especially those) who may have hurt us. A daily practice of metta has its benefits, but most significant of all, is the way it complements insight meditation and brings out lasting, positive changes in mind and body.

The feeling is hard to describe, but all I can say is that (at the risk of sounding cliched), through the course of one’s life, pain is an inevitability, but suffering through the pain is a choice. With regular practice in metta, instead of being swept away by one’s emotions, one learns to consciously bring awareness to the suffering being experienced and replace it with compassionate and loving thoughts. Suffering is simply a negative reaction of the mind to any form of pain. With practice, mental aversion to pain gradually fades. Like mental ointment, compassion can heal the deepest of wounds.

But compassion takes practice. Think of it as learning a new language. Even if you have no prior experience reading the script or pronouncing the words, with time, you might just achieve fluency.

Compassion towards all beings, regardless of the situation, is an important goal for anyone serious about walking the path. When you emanate a constant stream of loving thoughts without ever missing a beat, then you might definitely consider yourself having changed for the better.

7. It’s all just glorified play.

By the time children reach the age of 3 or 4, their ego begins to form a cohesive identity — a map of themselves: I am this, I like that, I want to be so and so. Whether through nature or nurture, the child learns to take on a role for themselves depending on what the situation may bring: during interactions with their parents, with other children, and with society in general.

From an early age, children are engaged in play. Their games may be diverse, but are usually a form of role-playing: tea parties, dollhouses, make-believe — simulations of the adult world, to test its boundaries and see how things react. Fueled by curiosity and the joy of discovery, they rehearse and solidify their understanding of their surroundings, finding their place in the greater familial and societal picture, and simultaneously strengthen their masks of identity.

The masks we carry, birthed from the ego, may be necessary for our survival, but they are simply roles — the games we continue to play even as adults, with ourselves and with others. When the student of Vipassana comes to notice their own desires and attachments to the world, the identity of the self is often seen as the greatest attachment. It is the great epic; the story of ourselves that we’re so engrossed in writing and reciting— and madly in love with.

This story never ends. It lies permanently in the state of becoming: I am like this, I like that, I want to be so and so. The attachment to a false idea of oneself is the most difficult thing to witness and understand. It is the biggest delusion of the mind, and the greatest hindrance to one’s liberation from samsara — the endless cycle of birth and death. Whether you choose to believe that is unimportant, but recognising one’s tendencies to cling to one’s beliefs, one’s masks and identity, is a crucial process towards self-discovery and insight.

Recognising the mind for what it is — a constant stream of consciousness always in flux — will bring you a step closer to deciphering it.

8. You Know Nothing.

I know nothing. For knowing involves being certain, but if everything is impermanent and things are constantly in flux, then nothing can be certain.

To understand how truly inept we are at comprehending reality, consider the incredibly narrow spectrum of perception our brains provide. Our sensory organs: the eyes, ears, nose, tongue and skin offer only a slice of all the information that they come into contact with.

The eyes, for example, see only a thin slice of the electromagnetic spectrum, which we call visible light. Similarly, our hearing is restricted to frequencies of sound that fall between 20 Hz and 20 kHz. In the same way, we carry only a limited cognitive capability and intelligence.

It’s a humbling thought. At the very least, reminding oneself of the fragility of one’s understanding is a way to minimize cognitive bias. Further, since no one knows anything, knowing you know nothing will actually put you a step ahead of most people.

“I am wiser than this human being. For probably neither of us knows anything noble and good, but he supposes he knows something when he does not know, while I, just as I do not know, do not even suppose that I do. I am likely to be a little bit wiser than he in this very thing: that whatever I do not know, I do not even suppose I know.” — Plato’s Apology of Socrates

Similarly, from the Dhammapada:

“A fool who knows his foolishness is wise at least to that extent, but a fool who thinks himself wise is a fool indeed.”

Lastly, Shunryu Suzuki, a Japanese Zen Master calls the state of knowing nothing the “beginner’s mind,” the constant prerequisite for progressing in one’s practice:

“The goal of practice is always to keep our beginner’s mind. This does not mean a closed mind, but actually an empty mind and a ready mind. If your mind is empty, it is always ready for anything; it is open to everything. In the beginner’s mind there are many possibilities; in the expert’s mind there are few.” — from Zen Mind, Beginner’s Mind

May all beings be happy.

[talas-starlight]

Scarred Spirits - Zuko x fem! reader (pt.5)

SUMMARY: y/n wakes up in an unfamiliar place and tries to find her way back to her mission (i suck at summaries LOL)

WORD COUNT: 2.3k

WARNINGS: swearing, fighting? kinda?

OTHER PARTS:  pt1   /   pt2 /   pt3 /   pt4 /   pt6

MASTERLIST: Here!

A/N: anddddd we’re back!!! hehe thank you to everyone who has been so so patient with me i am so greatful && hopefully youre just as excited as i am for this series heheh

Bricks. You felt as though you were just hit with a tonne of bricks. The idea of even opening your eyes to the harsh sunlight, which you could feel through your eyelids felt like the worst idea in the world. Your dry throat didn’t help at all either. Maybe if I just lay wherever the fuck I am, I’ll magically gain the energy to move again. Or better yet, maybe the ground will swallow me whole, and I can forget about this mission altogether.

Abruptly interrupting your painful stillness on the ground, there was a small kick into your left side. The sudden shock immediately sent your brain swirling into all the ways you could eliminate whoever disturbed your peace.

“Hey… I think she’s dead.”

Ah, the wonderful sound of an annoying, teenage boy. They’ll be easy to take out.

A second female voice emerged. “She's not dead Sokka! She's literally breathing!" Sokka? As in Hakodas son? Oh Spirits, you never fail to amaze me with how you choose to dictate my life. Hmmm, then that means the girl is Katara. Yay.

"Yeah?! Then why the hell hasn't she even moved a single inch since we found her!"

"Well, maybe she's protesting against your annoying poking!" Spirits they're annoying and loud.

A third voice attempted to intervene, "Guys…. Stop, she's fine. Trust me." Hmm, that's considerably younger. 10 years old perhaps? Or a bit older? 12 maybe? Male?

"Oh yeah? How can you be so sure Aang."

"Well Katara is right, she is breathing for one. But…. There's something else about her, I can feel it."

"What? Like an avatar thingy?"

"Yeah."

Wait the Avatar? Wasn't he on that dragon from when I was-

"Hmmm right, well what are we going to do with her?" At that statement, the annoying boy who seemed to be so confident that you were dead, kicked you again. Sick of his irritable presence, with as much strength you could muster, you took your right hand quickly snatching his ankle, and yanking it towards you, causing him to lose balance and ultimately backwards. Letting out a high-pitched yelp as he thudded onto the hard ground, you quickly rose to your knees. Taking the hand gripped around his ankle to tug him closer to you, you moved between his legs until you were able to straddle his waist, placing all of your weight on top of him. Finally, you grabbed both his arms, holding them above his head, completely hindering him from moving.

"If you kick me one more time, or even trying anything like that again, I WILL chop your legs off. Got it?"

Staring at you with pure horror in his eyes, he visibly gulped, nodding. "Yes! Yes! Hear it loud and clear. Totally got it! Just call me Sokka, the guy with perfect understanding."

Moving your right hand from his wrists, you firmly gripped his jaw, forcing him to keep eye contact with you. Taking in his scared features, you smirked even though he couldn't see it. "You sure about that, water boy?"

"YES! YES!", frantically nodding, you could tell that if you kept pressing on, he'd probably burst into tears soon. Bringing his voice down to a pathetic whimper, he let out, "please don't hurt me."

Finally lifting yourself off him, you let out a dry laugh, satisfied with his compliance. "Uh-huh. Right."

Turning your head to the people that belonged to the other two voices, you took in their stunned and weakly defensive stances. Chest heaving at your sudden physical movements, you nodded, acknowledging them. "Hey, Avatar. Katara. So, where am I?"

After a few moments of silence, the Avatar spoke up first. “You’re just outside of Omashu.”

Katara elbowed Aang, instantly alarmed at his calm nature towards you. “Aang! You can’t just say that. We don’t know who this person is or how she even knows my name! She could be with the Fire Nation for all we know!”

“Katara it’s alright! Calm down.”

“Calm down?! She just attacked Sokka! I mean, rightfully so- but it’s a little suspicious. We don’t know who she is or her intentions.”

Sighing, you looked around, taking in your surroundings. It seemed that rocky mountains surrounded you with a small group of tents in the distance. Interesting… why are they all Earth Kingdom people, when Omashu is so close by?

Shifting your attention back towards the three, you decided against telling them who you were. “It doesn’t matter how I know any of your names. What matters is that I need to get back to my original mission.”

Sokka scoffed, moving to stand beside his sister. “Your mission? Let me guess; you’re here to kill Aang too.”

Raising an eyebrow, his eyes immediately widened in fear. “Trust me, water boy, if I wanted him dead, we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now. I’m here on… other confidential business.” Met with silence from all three of them you moved on, “so let me guess, you found Omashu invaded by the Fire Nation, and you three were the ones that helped that tiny camp of people over there escape from their rule. Interesting choice considering there are bigger things you should be worrying about. Yet, why are all of you still here? Surely the Avatar and his friends don’t need to train them in how to look after themselves.”

“We’re going back into Omashu. To make a trade for King Bumi and to give the governor his son back.” Why does he keep willingly give me information? Now that’s interesting. I can barely feel any fire within him either, it’s almost as if it's not there at all…

“Okay. I’ll accompany you all into Omashu, and once we arrive within the city, we’ll go our separate ways.”

“Sure!”

“NO!”

“NO!”

Bursting out into a fit of laughter, you shook your head at the water tribe siblings. “Naw, it’s sweet how you think you all have a choice in this. Don’t worry, nothing will happen to any of you, I’m just hitching a ride and you’ll never have to see me again. Regardless, Aang said yes, and considering he’s the Avatar and all, I think his choice overrules yours.”

Katara didn’t seem to like your suggestion that her and Sokka’s opinion didn’t matter. “No, it doesn’t work like that! We’re a family, and we make these decisions together! You can’t just wake up after who knows how long you were laying there for, and expect us to trust you immediately! For one, you attacked Sokka a little too easily without any bending, and you literally said that you were on a mission! If I’m honest, you sound like trouble, especially since we don’t even know your name! Or what you even look like!”

“Just as I said before, it doesn’t matter. It’s sweet you all care enough about each other’s safety, but I’m not here to cause any of you ‘trouble’. Get me inside Omashu, and we’ll never have to speak or interact ever again. If it means so much to you, I’ll let water boy tie me up, and watch me the entire journey there as reparations for my small attack against him. How does that sound?”

Aang more than satisfied with your offer let out a quick, “Yes!”.

Grumbling under her breath Katara shook her head, clearly understanding that this was as good as it was going it get. “Fine. But he ties you up now. If I see you even move an inch out of line, don’t think I’ll go easy on you. I am a waterbender after all.”

As if you being a waterbender would have stopped me. Holding your arms out and casting your attention towards the ground, you were ready for Sokka to bind your wrists together with some cloth, he tore off his clothing. Unknown to you, he seemed to notice that despite how tough you were, you were weak. All of the sudden movements and the argument with his sister clearly drained you physically.

“Hey… I don’t really like you since you threatened to kill me, but are you sure you’re ready to be travelling so soon? You’re breathing really heavily. You need some water and food.” Gently wrapping your wrists together, he tried and failed to make eye contact with you.

At the mention of water, you throat physically constricted in pain. “Nah, I’ll be alright. Just need to get to Omashu.”

“Doubt it. Let’s get you on Appa and I’ll nag Katara for something.”

Silently following him to the Sky Bison, you were grateful that your mask covered the wide smile that broke out onto your face. It’s beautiful.

Finally, parting ways with them, you let out a breath of relief. That was the most silent journey I have ever been on and I travel by myself… Spirits, I hope I never have to run into them again. I think I’m going to lose my mind if I ever do. What was Hakoda thinking?! I’d be an awful big sister to them, they already hate me! It didn’t help how much they kept bickering either. Argh, what a mess. Aang kept looking at me funny the entire time too! What was up with that? Do his Avatar powers allow him to see into my soul or something? Spirits, he’d probably wants to unleash his Avatar state on me for all of the lives I’ve taken. Yikes.

Before setting off to find Azula, you needed to take precautions to blend into the small kingdom. Stealing some clothes, you found you chose to duplicate you last disguise with the only main difference being that it was in green cloth instead of pink.

After securing your final blade underneath your robes, you knew there was no more time to waste and you needed to find Azula quick. You weren’t sure how much she has progressed in her mission to find Iroh and Zuko and the guilt of not helping them when they ran off the Fire Nation ship was already nagging you like an itch you couldn’t scratch.

This city is too big to wander around aimlessly.

Closing your eyes and letting out a deep breath, you chose to look for her the quickest way you knew how. By sensing her fire.

Come on y/n; you can do it. Unsure of how far your abilities would work, you grew worried that she may be too far away for you to even feel her.

After a few minutes, you started to feel irritated. Of course, you could sense fire, you felt so much of it. The city was crawling with Fire Nation after all, but it wasn’t hers. You emitted a few more deep breaths, trying to clear your head.

Suddenly a deep, familiar voice entered your mind. Inner peace. You need to find your inner peace y/n. That’s why you keep losing control; you need to find it.

Is this that dragon again? As if you didn’t have a random voice inside your head, you were met with silence.

Look you can’t just randomly enter my mind you know, and who in Spirits name transports me to some random mountainside?! I don’t know who you are, but I’ve been doing fine all of these years on my own. So kindly, get out of my head.

Letting out a small scream into your hands as the voice never came back, you closed your eyes again.

Stupid voice.

Stupid inner peace.

Breathing in and out, you wracked your brain for something that made you feel at peace. Come on, you can do it. Then after a few moments, it hit you. Not your inner peace, no. You’d have to find that another day. What did hit you was Azula’s fire, you felt it.

Immediately following the tugging feeling, you ran as fast as you could until you came to a tall piece of scaffolding. Even though you were so far below, you could still hear the fight that was occurring many levels up. Can’t she keep herself out of a battle for at least a day?! I bet it’s not even Zuko up there. Scowling, knowing that you can’t ignore her completely, you climbed up until you reached the fight but still remaining hidden.

By the time you reached the platform, you felt that Azula had already moved from this part of the fight. That didn’t mean that there weren’t pressing matters right in front of you, though.

“How are you going to fight without your bending?” A Fire Nation girl before you brought out her blades ready to attack Katara. Holding back a verbal groan, you knew you were going to have to help her.  

Quickly jumping in, you deflect Mai’s knife with your arm while simultaneously catching a boomerang that you spotted in the corner of your eye. As the flying bison approached your quickly dodged its tail as it sent the two fire nation girls flying back. Seeing a distraction between all parties, you threw the boomerang back to Sokka while running for the scaffolding, making your way into the shadows. So much for never having to see them again.

When you ran away from the scene, you knew your disguise was too recognisable considering the two girls saw you when you intervened. This left you to painstakingly have to find a new set of clothes, just to make babysitting Azula and her friends so much easier. Despite finally being back on track with your mission, it didn’t make it any less tedious as you followed from a distance in the shadows. “So, we’re tracking down your brother and uncle, huh?”

“It’ll be interesting seeing Zuko again, won’t it Mai?” Huh? Is that coal brains girlfriend or something?

Azula spoke up at that comment, “It’s not just Zuko and Iroh anymore. We have a third target now.” You have got to be fucking joking. I guess I better start finding my inner peace after all, you know, so I don’t blow her FUCKING BRAINS OUT!

a/n: hehe thank you so much for reading!!! what did you think?? hehe i know its been a while so im kinda rusty so pls let me know your thoughts or any feedback!! hehe i know this wasnt that juicy and kinda short but ive got a lot planned so dw hehe we’ll get there ;)

taglist: @slythergirlimagines​​ @mangoberry43​​ @eridanuswave​​ @whiskeywinter89​​​ @kaylove12​​ @simplyfandomish​​ @khaleesi-of-assassins​ @callums-keith​ @ilovespideyyy​ @calciumcow​ @blackhood5sos​ @nnon-it-up​ @lozzybowe​ @scarletemeterio​ @reclusive-chicken-nugget​ @simpinforsukka​ @chewymoustachio​ @tiffy119​ @spearbatty​ @sokkassuki​

[tsarisfanfiction]

Words Not Said (But Still Heard)

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Gen Genre: Family/Hurt/Comfort Characters: Gordon, Scott

#fluffember prompt #14 - Song, which decided to be awkward because I’ve already done a few that could have fit this prompt earlier in the month and finding a new take was tricky.  Even after I found a new one, it decided to spiral itself out of my control, because it could.  I’m not good enough to write song lyrics, so the ones used here are borrowed from part of KEiiNO’s “Spirit in the Sky”.

Gordon didn’t remember much about his time in the hospital, but he remembered the song.

Scott had done a lot for them over the years, some more obvious than others but all appreciated just the same.  When they’d lost Mom, and then Dad, he’d stepped up into far more of a parental role than he should have ever had to take on, and while Gordon knew none of them ever mentioned it, they were all keenly aware of that fact.

But perhaps they should mention it from time to time.  They’d grown up secure in the knowledge that Scott was always there for them, but sometimes he wondered if Scott knew that they were also there for him. Knowing Scott and his reluctance to lean on anyone, it was unlikely.  Maybe he’d accepted that John wasn’t going to back down without a fight, and Virgil had inherited the same smother-genes, but Gordon knew for a fact that neither he nor Alan were expected to do any supporting of their eldest brother.

Too bad for Scott, but Gordon wasn’t going to sit back and let him suffer in silence when there was something he could do about it.

He didn’t have many memories of weeks immediately after the hydrofoil crash, not least because he’d been comatose for much of the time.  There were months, even, where his memory was patchy at best, a whirlwind of treatment and hospital and therapy with an underlying current of terrified family beneath it all.

What he did remember was the song.

It was one Mom used to sing, a lullaby that pacified whichever son it was aimed at – a song of hope and reassurance that no matter what, everything would turn out fine in the end.  Mom was several years gone, and Alan had grown up knowing it in Scott’s voice, big brother turned parent to a toddler who didn’t understand why Mommy wasn’t around anymore.

Gordon had been more of Virgil’s responsibility, back then.  Insomnia had been soothed by his immediately bigger brother’s melodic voice and instinct for music.  Scott had had his hands too full with Alan, then.

But it wasn’t Virgil’s voice he remembered as he’d drifted in and out of awareness, all those months in the hospital.  Rough and pained but hopeful, it was Scott that had held his hand and sung to him, reaching him in a way that nothing else truly could.

Gordon wasn’t sure if he’d ever thanked Scott for that.  He didn’t know if Scott knew he’d heard it, let alone remembered it when the whole traumatic experience was locked up securely in the depths of his memories, to be revisited hopefully never.

If there was ever a time to let him know, it was now.

A rescue gone wrong, broken bones and so many painkillers he was barely lucid when he was conscious. Virgil had been sent home by John, putting his Big Brother foot down in a way he rarely did, after too many consecutive nights and days by Scott’s bedside, waiting for signs of recovery. Alan was similarly squirrelled away, all three of them determined that he didn’t need to see Scott like this.

John and Virgil had tried that on Gordon, too.  They’d backed down when he reminded them of his own hospital stints and made it crystal clear that he wouldn’t leave Scott now the tables were turned.  No amount of Big Brothering from either of them was enough to overrule that.  Scott could have, but Scott was in no condition to make anyone leave (he’d tried, in his brief moments of lucidity, but it was painfully obvious that while he said they didn’t need to stay with him, he didn’t really want to be left alone).

So here Gordon was, sat in a plastic visitor’s chair pulled as close to the bed as he could get it, with Scott’s limp hand held in his.  He didn’t know if Scott was aware, or if he’d drifted off again, carried on a wave of painkillers and the haze of pain they couldn’t entirely banish.  It didn’t matter, anyway.

Gordon had never sung it himself; he’d heard it from Mom, Virgil, Scott all those times in the hospital, and even John on rare occasions, but never sung it himself.  That didn’t matter, either.  He’d heard it so many times he knew it by heart.

Can't you stay Stay with me into the night? Stay, I need you close You can go back when the sun rises again Just stay tonight Just stay

I see your spirit in the sky When northern lights are dancing I hear you calling me at night Whenever wind is blowing I can see your spirit in the sky When northern lights are dancing

I'll follow you until the daylight Show me the way 'Cause I am dancing with the fairies now They all sing our name I got my light here Shining here

The hand he held twitched, an aborted movement, and Gordon glanced down at it as he sang, caressing long calloused fingers and watching as they moved again, stronger than before.

“I see your spirit in the sky When northern lights are dancing”

Startled at the sudden accompaniment, he found Scott’s face again.  Blue eyes were open and looking at him, mouth pulled into a grin he could almost describe as smug, although the look in his brother’s eyes was more understanding than anything else.  His voice was raspy with sleep and pain, and nothing like the strong yet quiet voice that had sung to Gordon in the past, but as always, when Scott put his mind to something, nothing was going to stop him.

And Gordon couldn’t say he didn’t like singing with his brother.  It was a rare enough occurrence as it was, what with their hectic lives – and Virgil’s general monopoly on anything music (not that Gordon was complaining about Virgil’s singing, because he absolutely was not).

“I hear you calling me at night Whenever wind is blowing I can see your spirit in the sky When northern lights are dancing”

With the end of the song, Gordon lightly squeezed his brother’s hand, and managed a smile when Scott returned the gesture, if with less strength.

“I never knew if you heard me.”  Scott’s confession was just as quiet and raspy as his singing had been.  It was a vulnerability he didn’t often let himself show, and Gordon wondered if it was the song that had broken through his mask. He didn’t ask.

“It’s the only thing I remember,” he admitted instead, to widening blue eyes.  “Guess I never told you that, huh?”  He squeezed his hand again.

“No,” Scott murmured. “You didn’t.”  He sounded a little melancholy, even sad, despite returning the squeeze with another weak one of his own.  I guess I never thanked you, either, sat on the tip of Gordon’s tongue, but he swallowed them back.  He knew his brother enough to know he wouldn’t want to hear that – not now, and maybe not ever.  Scott never wanted to be thanked for caring about them, even when he went above and beyond anything that could reasonably be expected of him.

Instead, he let a grin cross his face.  “Well, Virgil’s not here, so it’s a one time offer of a performance by yours truly,” he proclaimed instead.  “If you’re lucky, I’ll even take requests!”

The eye roll was immediate. They both knew Scott wouldn’t request anything.  They both also knew Gordon would sing anything if he did.

“You just lie back and heal,” he continued, “and I’ll provide the entertainment.”  Scott had the cheek to groan, but he didn’t say no and that was enough for Gordon to delve into his mental bank of songs and start another one.

Scott wouldn’t accept a thank you in words, but there was more than one way to show it.