#instead of showing that same cruelty in his face in the name protection

[celestial-sapphicss]

it's good that i already don't like jim as a guardian so i am not affected by wheather jim being homophobic in the previews is accurate or out of context, i do worry for little li ming though 😭

"but vi he's tryin-" no i have ZERO empathy and understanding for any bad guardian/parent. i don't care if you have trauma, i don't care if you're poor, i don't care about how difficult your like is, i don't care how much you love the kid but struggle to show it.

if you have to take care of a kid, you do so with love and affection and care regardless or your circumstances, which jim is not the best at, which automatically makes me dislike him as a character, no greys, only black & white.

yes you make mistakes as a parent, but you can always make it up to them, and it costs literally nothing to be kind. stop projecting your problems on your children

[exitpursuedbyavulcan]

The Silver Dragon (1)

The Bronze Bitch's Daughter

Prince Daemon Targaryen has grown tired of his Lady wife, the “Bronze Bitch” Rhea Royce. But he is not so easily rid of her. She survives not only his brutal attack, but his cruel violation of her. Though she remains broken and weak, she endures just long enough to deliver a child: a girl of silver hair and steely eyes.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x OC (Daemon and Rhea's daughter)

Warnings: Heavily implied rape

Author's Note: Here's the first chapter of my rework of The Silver Dragon! I'm keeping the old versions up, but they will be labeled "archived."

*Important Note* While he's not the villain of the show or book, Daemon is the villain of this story. We are seeing him through the perspectives of people he's hurt in various different ways. As such, he is not as morally gray as you may be used to. If you think this will upset you, don't read. Thank you!

Series Masterlist - Next Chapter

Rhea Royce lay prone on the earth ground of her beloved Vale. But she could feel neither the cold of the stone nor the dampness of the grass and stone as it seeped through her hunting leathers and onto her skin. As the heat of her body met with the chill in the ground, the runes of protection etched into her pauldrons became fogged over – rendered unreadable.

She knew she should hurt. The pain should be unbearable. Yorwyck was a mighty beast, like the Bronze King he was named for. The whole weight of the horse had come down upon her, so there was no doubt he caused her great damage in his fall. She had heard the sharp cracking of her own bones. Yet she felt none of it. 

All she could feel was fear.

The cloaked man waited until her steed was out of sight. Rhea was well and truly alone, with only the distant ramparts of Runestone peering from between the hills as witness to whatever would come next. 

He approached her slowly, casually, as if he couldn’t hear her desperate whimpers. She knew he just didn’t care. He ran his violet eyes along her body as he approached her head. It was not a gaze of lust. He looked on her with the same disdainful curiosity as one examining a woodland rodent crushed by a cart. 

As he stood directly over her, he turned his eyes from her face – he had always avoided looking at the face he found so displeasing. Instead, he turned to her outstretched arm. He took another step, raising his foot above Rhea’s lower arm. The ghost of a wicked smile danced in the corner of his mouth, and he stepped down. 

Nothing.

He raised and pressed his foot down again several more times. Not to be sure, but to emphasize to his victim that she was utterly helpless – precisely as he wanted her. Rhea knew the horrors his men had inflicted on the criminals of King’s Landing and the followers of the Crab Feeder. She knew the cruelty he was capable of and of his unparalleled creativity. He had hated her for years. In all that time, he must have imagined countless ways to torture her. 

Rhea braced herself for what would come next. At least she would not feel the pain.

But his steps retreated.

All the fear in Rhea’s heart evaporated, swiftly replaced by rage. After these long nine years, this was all he had for her? For nine years, he traveled the whole of the Seven Kingdoms and beyond, slandering her and her family in the courts, then further insulting her with his brazen whoring. She had lost count of how often he had called her “Bronze Bitch” and accused her of ruining his life. She had been anticipating a reckoning from him. 

But this? 

This was an insult she could not stand.

Rhea knew she would be signing her soul over to the Stranger, but she would not let Daemon Targaryen have the final say.

“I knew you couldn’t finish,” she spat at her retreating husband. 

He turned back, looking at her face for the first time. Rage twisted his face, but his eyes were wide with shock. He had not expected that. But she was, after all, his Bronze Bitch.

What he said next had Rhea’s blood running cold as she thanked all the Seven that she would not feel what was to come. “My dear, lady wife,” he said, breath heaving and voice dripping with hateful venom, “perhaps it is time we consummate our union.”

The Lady of Runestone was dying, nine months on from her “accident.”

The people of the Vale were told that it was a miracle from the Seven themselves that she had survived such a devastating fall from her horse. Even more miraculous still, her husband had swooped in on dragonback to rescue her before she succumbed. He had even used his mount, Caraxes ‘the Blood Wyrm,’ to find and dispatch the offending horse. A true Targaryen prince, rescuing his bronze damsel. It was no wonder when her cousin and heir, Gerold, announced to the court that she was with child. They cared little that their Lady’s rescuer had swept flown out of the Vale as swiftly as he had arrived. 

Only her cousin, her Maester, and her ladies-in-waiting knew the truth. Maester Kerith had spent countless hours binding the broken bones that could be saved, and those he could not, he promptly removed. When Lady Rhea next sat the Bronze Throne, she made sure her ladies dressed her in her riding leathers rather than a gown that would hide her injuries. She wanted her court to see what she had survived, even if they could not know the truth.  

When it became clear that the consequences of what her husband had done extended beyond mere injuries, Maester Kerith offered her moon tea, but she refused. With her health still declining and her body struggling to overcome the trauma she had faced, she knew she would not survive long. But again, she refused to let Daemon have the final word in their hellish marriage. He had insulted her, paralyzed her, and raped her, but she would not let him forget her. 

She would leave him with an Heir of Bronze.

The babe was born as the sun rose, though the day remained dark beneath the clouds that so often surrounded Runestone. 

Rhea wept for the first time, having felt no pain throughout the birth, when she saw that her daughter had the silver-white hair of her father. She had prayed for months that her child would look just like her, to be a constant reminder of his Bronze Bitch. But the babe was just another silver Targaryen. Her final revenge had failed.

Gerold sat at her side, cradling the girl in his arms, as her mother could not. Then, as the babe began to cry, he held her out so Rhea could see her.

“Cousin, look at her eyes,” he whispered, all too aware of the grim looks on the Maester and Septas’ faces. 

Rhea turned her head, lifting her neck as much as her weakening body would allow to try and glimpse her child through her tears. She looked past the white hair at the small but wide eyes that beheld her. 

The slate grey eyes of Runestone, the Bronze Kings, and the First Men. Royce eyes.

Rhea smiled. Perhaps her revenge would not be as sharp as she would like, but so long as her daughter remained, Daemon would never forget her. He would always remember that he could not break her.

The Lady of Runestone’s breaths came slower, and though the Septas flurried around her, she paid them no mind. She had known all these months that she would not live to see the look on Daemon’s face when he first met his heir. She knew these were her last moments. But she did not want to spend them afraid. She wanted to spend them with her daughter.

Fitting, she thought, that Daemon’s heir should be a girl. His young niece had usurped his claim to the Iron Throne, and now his claim to Runestone was usurped by his own daughter. 

And what a beautiful daughter she was. Rhea’s vision began to blur around the edges, and the voices of the others in the room faded as she beheld the babe. Her eyes were bright, even as she cried softly, and the silver-white of her gently curling hair seemed to bring out a metallic shine in her grey eyes. They complimented each other, as her parents never had.

This girl was not bronze.

“Arianwyn,” Rhea whispered, naming her child as the life, at last, left her broken body. Lady of silver.

It was not Prince Daemon who came to Runestone to receive the child on behalf of the Royal family, but the young Queen Alicent Hightower. She came with the unwelcome news that the child’s father had already remarried. Less than a month after he became a widower. He had departed with his new wife, Laena Velaryon, to Pentos without leaving instruction on the care of his daughter – or even acknowledging her birth. 

Alicent, despite her reputation as a fierce supporter of her husband’s family, was more than empathetic to the child’s plight. It seemed to Ser Gerold that the young Queen held a similar opinion to his own regarding Daemon Targaryen. She commiserated with him on the pain the prince had caused his family, especially Rhea and her daughter. It seemed that As long as the prince had vexed the Royce family, he had been equally maddening to his brother.

But what was most shocking to Gerold and the court at Runestone was the offer the Queen brought: to bring the child to King’s Landing and raise her there. Despite her father’s indifference, the child was a Targaryen. It was her right to live amongst her people, to learn the traditions of Old Valyria. 

And at the Red Keep, Arianwyn would not be alone. The Queen had three children, each young enough to be peers to their newest Targaryen cousin, and more were anticipated from both Alicent and the recently wed Princess Rhaenyra. 

The King had already given his approval, both to the fostering of his niece at the Red Keep and of Gerold serving as regent of Runestone until the girl had come of age. Indeed, all the arrangements were already made. The Queen had even brought a small contingent of attendants for the child, from nursemaids to Dragonkeepers, who carried a great, steaming urn containing a silver dragon egg – supposedly chosen by the Queen’s infant son – to be placed in Arianwyn’s cradle.

Gerold had only one caveat before he agreed to the King’s plan: that Arianwyn would not venture to the capital alone. A handful of attendants from Runestone delegates would be sent with her to educate her on the history and traditions of House Royce. So that even surrounded by Targaryens, she would not forget why her eyes were grey.

Queen Alicent, herself clothed in Hightower green, happily agreed. 

After a long journey from the Vale, Lady Arianwyn Targaryen arrived at Red Keep, cradled in the arms of her aunt, Queen Alicent Hightower. As her attendants, including one of her late mother’s most trusted Lady’s Maids, continued on to prepare her rooms, the newest Targaryen was brought into the Great Hall. 

A hush fell over the gathered courtiers when the doors to the throne room opened, and they beheld the silver-haired babe. But the chatter that so often filled the capital quickly resumed when they saw the blanket she was swaddled in. A burnished bronze velvet, carefully embroidered with the same ancient Runes that graced the ancestral armor of House Royce. 

It was a slight on the Royal House that, in another court, would have undoubtedly caused a scandal. But in this court, where the Queen herself so brazenly wore the colors of her own house rather than her husband’s, it was immediately relegated to petty gossip. So the Lords and Ladies quickly resumed their conversations as the Queen approached the Iron Throne.

“My King, may I present your niece, Lady Arianwyn Targaryen,” Alicent said as she bowed before her husband as best she could with a squirming infant in her arms.

King Viserys’ eyes brightened, and he dismissed the Hand from his side. The King, having lost so many of his own children by his first wife, was always cheered when he had the chance to meet a healthy babe.

“Hello, my dear niece,” he cooed, reaching out to hold her, “what a delight you are!” His arms strained slightly at the weight of the plump child, so he pulled her into his chest. She relaxed into his against him, fussing softly as she reached for his long white hair.

Viserys laughed, running his fingers through her own hair. The exact shade of silver-white that graced nearly every member of his family. Though hers held significantly more curls than any Targaryen he had ever known.

“She is indeed a beauty, cousin.” A familiar voice drew the King’s attention. His cousin, Rhaenys, approached the throne. “It is a comfort to see our families flourishing.”

The King smiled and nodded, allowing his cousin permission to approach. She ascended the steps to the Iron Throne and ran the back of her fingers along the round cheek of her new baby cousin. “It is a shame her father is not here to meet her.”

Viserys heart sank. In his joy at meeting Arianwyn, he had momentarily forgotten the circumstances under which she arrived – without her father. Once again, his brother had shamed not only himself, but his family and the Crown itself. At least the child’s hair had put to rest any rumors that Rhea had been unfaithful. 

Suddenly, the sight of the babe made his heart ache. “Alicent,” he called to his wife, “take Arianwyn to her rooms. I am sure she is tired from the journey.” He handed his wife the child and slumped back into the throne, readjusting himself to try and remain comfortable. Then, when Alicent was out of earshot, he again turned to Rhaenys.

“What has my brother done now?” He said, running his gloved hand over his face.

Rhaenys grimaced. “I am loathe to speak against him now, as he has so recently taken my daughter to wife,” she sighed. “But I feel confident in saying that none of us can ever say exactly what your brother is doing, much less predict what he may yet do in the future.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Viserys said, “I just pray that poor girl won’t suffer any more than she already has.”

When she arrived, the Queen’s three children were waiting inside the solar of their cousin’s new rooms. Aegon, now four years old, ran from his nursemaid, cackling as he swerved precariously between the servants attempting to arrange the room. Helaena, approaching her second nameday, stayed in her nurse’s arms, hands clasped tightly around her ears as she took in the unfamiliar space. And Aemond, only a few months older than his new cousin, lay peacefully in his maid’s arms as he watched servants haul numerous sparkling bronze trappings into the rooms.

“Come and meet your new cousin, darlings,” Alicent called to Aegon and the nursemaids bearing her other children, “She’s come a long way to be with us.” The Queen sat on a plush chair near the west windows of the room, gently lowering the babe into her lap.

Aegon reluctantly approached, sneering slightly at the child in his mother’s lap. “She doesn’t look like Daemon.”

Alicent sighed. “Nor did you look like your father when you were so young. Indeed, even now, I wager you look more like me. You have the Hightower nose.” She tweaked the tip of his soft nose – the same as hers - to drive her point home.

“I am a Targaryen prince!” Aegon insisted.

“Of course, my boy. How could any of us forget it with this on your head,” she said, ruffling his unruly mop of white hair.

Aegon grunted, looking back down at the baby. He gently reached out to touch her silver hair, both neater and curlier than his own. “What is her name?”

“Arianwyn.” The Queen responded.

“Ari…” Helaena started, her hands finally coming down from her ears. Alicent nodded for the maid to set her down, and the young girl approached her mother and the babe.

The Queen spoke slowly and carefully as she repeated, “Arianwyn.”

Helaena listened intently, then repeated the name several times, struggling with the pronunciation. “Ah-ree-an-win.”

“That’s it! Very good, my sweet,” the Queen said, placing her hand on her daughter’s shoulder, though the young girl winced at the touch.

Aegon continued fiddling with his cousin’s curls, “It’s a weird name.”

“Her cousin Sir Gerold Royce told me it is of the Old Tongue,” the Queen said, motioning for one of the nursemaids to bring her youngest babe closer, “it has some meaning, though I am afraid I forget what it is.”

Releasing Arianwyn’s hair, Aegon made a noise of quickly waning interest and stepped away, eager to resume his perpetual torment of his nurse. Had she not been holding her young niece, Alicent may have chased after him. But for now, she lifted the child babe to face her own.

“Aemond,” she said softly, “meet Arianwyn.”

As he beheld his bronze-wrapped cousin, he smiled, cooing and reaching a squirming fist toward her. A smile appearing across her own face, Arianwyn reached back toward him.

I'll be starting a new taglist for this, so if you'd like to be on it, please reach out to me or comment on this post.

[fellthemarvelous]

Warning: I use sarcasm when making points.

I have things to say. (And I'm going to be extremely snarky while saying them.)

Y'all, I love Crowley just as much as anyone else, but the way some people think that defending Crowley means it's necessary to villainize Aziraphale is just gross.

Yeah, Crowley is super easy to sympathize with. We all care about him.

But like...some of these Aziraphale hate takes are insane. (And no, haters, I don't actually want to hear from you unless you want to give me even more fodder to work with.)

"Aziraphale shows compassion for everyone except Crowley." (Actual footage from the very first episode, just to name one example, but okay. I guess sheltering someone who was supposed to be his mortal enemy under his wing was a senseless act of cruelty.)

"Aziraphale doesn't love Crowley." (Wait, I totally utilize my heart eyes for people I don't love too!!)

"Aziraphale has never actually trusted Crowley." (They only helped save the world together though. Weird. And then there was that time in 1941 where he trusted that Crowley wouldn't shoot him in the face while their miracles weren't working.)

"Even in second season when Crowley says "I'm a demon, I lied" Aziraphale doesn't think of Crowley's pain, he was busy being sad for himself. Before this Aziraphale even says "I'm like you now" as if being demon is worse thing than killing innocent children and animals." (Whatever the hell this is.)

This one is just really special. Congratulations on walking into the point and somehow missing it at the same time? That's exactly what makes the system so fucked up in the first place and why Crowley doesn't tell anyone that Aziraphale lied to Heaven. This moment wasn't about Crowley. It was about Aziraphale. Crowley knows the pain and trauma that comes with falling and he doesn't want Aziraphale to experience that?? Aziraphale is allowed to be scared and sad because like, I don't know if you know this, but when you've been indoctrinated into blind obedience, going against the grain is actually really fucking scary because the punishment is terrifying. This is why so many religious abuse survivors relate to Aziraphale?? Also, a demon like Hastur would have killed the animals and the children, so....

"I can not in my sane mind think that Crowley could ever trust Aziraphale with his trauma. He would never share anything that was done to him. Because chances are if he did, he would just be invalidated and belittled. Or worse, he would have been blamed even for it since he is a demon and that's what he deserves (which Crowley already believes to be true)." (What?!?!?!)

Aziraphale, most compassionate and kindest angel there is, would mock Crowley's pain? The same Aziraphale who has been mocked and abused (verbally, mentally and physically) by his superiors would turn around and do the same thing to Crowley when Crowley is the only one who has ever understood him? Aziraphale, the angel who gave the demons a chance to walk away from his bookshop without being hurt, would mock Crowley? Aziraphale, the same angel who had to sit there and listen to Shax mock him and belittle him relentlessly while he protected Jimbriel, would invalidate Crowley?

"Aziraphale only loves Crowley as an angel and not a demon." (Yeah, look how disgusted he is...planning a whole ball just so he could hold hands and dance with his demon. Eww.)

"When Crowley asks for the holy water instead of asking for why he needed something that was so dangerous he immediately jumps to conclusions and then hurts Crowley even more."

I mean other than the fact that we saw what happened to Ligur in season one when he got doused with the holy water, I can't imagine why Aziraphale would be so hesitant to hand something like that over to the love of his life. And he finally did hand it over, knowing he would never be able to forgive himself if Crowley did use it to end his own existence. Not to mention that Hell actually did plan to kill Crowley with holy water at the end of season 1. I would totally jump at the chance to give someone I love something incredibly dangerous to them, but I guess I'm built differently. 🙃 And who cares about Aziraphale's feelings on the subject anyway, am I right?

"Crowley has no reason to trust Aziraphale." (I know right? Aside from the time Aziraphale gave him the holy water even though it scared him or the time he used a human magic trick to save Crowley from having to go back to Hell again or the time he protected Crowley's identity by playing along with Bildad the Shuhite so Heaven wouldn't know he was actually a demon or all the times Aziraphale has offered Crowley sanctuary in his bookshop or when they performed their half miracle together or when they literally swapped bodies.)

"Aziraphale chose Heaven over Crowley because he thinks Crowley is beneath him." (I mean he sacrificed his own happiness to go back to Heaven too, but why bother exploring that when we can all just hate Aziraphale for doing what he thinks is the right thing to do? What even are shades of grey?)

Like I get it. I do. Aziraphale leaving was very upsetting because we wanted to see the Ineffable Husbands get their happy ending. But whenever I see people talk about how rejected Crowley feels, like Aziraphale feels rejected too. You get that, right? And I'm not saying he was right for asking Crowley to go back and become an angel again, but he wants Crowley to be safe and he mistakenly believed it would be that easy.

Just because Aziraphale has a lot to learn doesn't mean he's wrong for going back. Just because Aziraphale has flaws doesn't mean he's bad. Crowley isn't the only one suffering and heartbroken.

And we all saw that the Metatron gave him no time to begin grieving over what just happened. Instead Aziraphale turned around, put a smile on his face that didn't reach his eyes, and stepped onto the elevator because he is going to try and make changes even if he has to do it all alone.

How would revolutions get started if people saw no point in trying to change things for the better?

I leaned into bitch mode in this post. It happens.

[asteria-argo]

🌹🪻🌸🌺🌷🌻🌼💐🥀🪷💮

🌹🪻🌸🌺🌷🌻🌼💐🥀🪷💮

🪻🌻🌺💮🌸

For To All The Better Places

(I’m not sure you specified how many actual kids are in Jamie’s class. I know “twenty some” for sure.)

You responded to one of my chapter comments (about how much I adore the students) by saying you have pages and pages of notes on the kids. And are sure most of it won’t ever make it into the fic.

Please feel free to brag or lament or gush over any and all of the kids to your hearts content here! Doesn’t have to be something that will ever make it into the story. Perhaps especially if it isn’t gonna be in the story.

Jamie has 24 kids in his class and I am very happy to say that every single one of them have names and basic descriptions! Most of them aren't very in depth but they've all got a basic blurb that has a couple of their likes and dislikes, a couple key personality traits, and notes on their home life if it's relevant.

A lot of them are just filler characters who don't serve a lot of purpose except to fill the room, but in Act II of To All The Better Places I have an entire subplot planned for these kids, I've mapped out their interpersonal drama, I have diagrams, it's a whole thing. Particularly Shiloh, who a couple people have already guessed will be important. I have three pages of backstory on her alone.

The thing about Shiloh is that she is in essence, Jamie before the fork in the road between kindness and cruelty. She is quite literally Jamie's mini-me, she acts exactly like him. She's overly confident and rude and doesn't have a ton of respect for the authority, which does include Jamie a lot of the time despite the fact we mostly see them getting along, but is also smart and kind and compassionate, absolutely filled to the brim with ambition and talent. She picks fights on the playground and disrupts lessons a lot and has an ongoing feud with several different teachers and students that usually ends up being Jamie's problem; She is also fiercely protective of her friends, she taught herself BSL so that she could speak to Toby when he doesn't have his hearing aids in, she helps Jamie set up for class every single morning, Kareem had to cap how many library books she was allowed to check out at once because she tried to borrow 18 at once and spent her entire recess arguing with him about it because she was absolutely positive she'd be able to get through all of them in two weeks.

She exists to parallel Jamie, she's a bratty but talented problem child who has a rough home life and is acting out because of it. Particularly, she exists to show Ted who has whatever the opposite of rose tinted glasses are on about Jamie, that things could have been different. She exists as physical proof that someone like Jamie could have been reasoned with and handled with kindness, if he'd only actually approached Jamie with curiosity instead of judgement, because for as much as Ted can believe that Jamie's behaviour was insular and judge him for it, it is near impossible for him to do the same thing to a nine year old girl that is clearly going through something. Especially because Jamie? He isn't going to let Ted judge Shiloh the same way he judged him.

Shiloh, Ted learns, is Jamie Tartt in miniature. Right down to the position she plays. “I’ll be striker,” she tells her half of the team. She’s not the captain, that honour going to Miss Imara, but she commandeers everyone's attention uncaring of that little fact, her hair pulled out of her face by two neat braids with red and blue ribbons braided through “ ‘cause I’m the best at that.” “I wanted to be striker,” Jonah says, looking a little hurt. Shiloh rolls her eyes at him, patting him on the shoulder consolingly. Ted’s not sure how a nine year old girl manages to come across as condescending, but she certainly finds a way. “You can still get goals even if you aren’t a striker” she says “you’re really fast, so you’d be a better winger like when we play at the park, so if we wanna win we gotta think about that.” “Isn’t this supposed to be just for fun?” Toby asks, head tilted to the side curiously. “winning is fun.” Shiloh says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

I have a scene, like the one above but hopefully a little more fleshed out, planned for later on in the story to really make Ted think about the parallels between Shiloh and Jamie. He already thinks they act very similar, but it's the final nail in the coffin seeing her play and seeing nothing but Jamie. Which, since you've been reading the story and already know, Ted has a bit of a problem with confirmation bias in this fic.

This answer kind of turned into the Shiloh show but what can I say I love her, she's a very pivotal character in this fic. I have more to say about the other kids but this has already gotten quite long so I will be leaving it here with this picture of my actual physical notes that I have pinned above my desk for quick reference when I'm writing!

yes, I did alphabetize the roll call, and also yes, I did create a physical diagram of who is friends with who, and also also yes, I have all of their table groups written out in accordance to that diagram so there are no mortal enemies or best friends on the same table to cause problems. I'm thorough.

[paradiqms]

to you, 2000 years from now.

hongjoong x fem!reader.

tags: angst, captain!hongjoong, royalty!reader, betrayals, misunderstandings, mentions of death, cruelty, fluff here n there, fantasy setting, strangers to lovers to enemies to..?

summary: after the death of your parents and near fall of your kingdom, you have no choice but to leave your first love in order to keep the kingdom in balance with you as the new ruler. years later, you see a familiar face - but instead of being in your arms, he's kneeling in front of the guillotine.

word count: 4,9k

currently, one out of ?

“must you follow me wherever i go?” the words intended for the young man tailing behind you fall much harsher than you wished from your lips, but you make no effort to show the growing guilt in your chest.

“of course, your highness.” the one who has been sticking to your side the whole morning answers. his voice cracks as he speaks, and you chuckle underneath your breath as your companion attempts to save his pride by coughing into his fist. “i am your guard, after all. so i –”

“have to protect me just in case anything goes wrong. i know, i know.” you cut the boy off, sighing tiredly afterwards. you’re met with silence instead of a reply, and for the nth time this morning, you feel bad.

“i apologize.” you mumble, opting to turn around and face the young man behind you. he’s taller than you despite being the same age. “i wished not to be so… impatient with you. i know this is simply your job as guard.”

a gentle smile grows on the boy’s pale lips – one that you have grown rather fond of during your several months with him as your personal guard. as much as you enjoy the act of understanding that his smile shows, you wish that he would be more stern with you. which is, unfortunately for you, a rather impossible thing to wish for.

“there’s no need to apologize, your highness.” your guard responds with the words that you expected him to say, and you feel your eye twitch ever so slightly.

“did i not tell you to stop calling me that when we’re alone, my dear yeonjun?” you frown, spitefully adding the name of your guard at the end of your sentence as if you emphasize your own words. yeonjun’s smile merely widens at the sight of your annoyance, which in return annoys you even further.

“i guess it’s my turn to apologize then, your high – ouch!” before he could finish his sentence, you reach up to smack the taller boy atop his head, the sound of his armor rattling as he attempts to soothe the growing ache you caused diminishing as you quickly walk away from your guard.

“silly boy.” you laugh quietly underneath your breath, turning around to see that you’ve lost sight of the brown haired boy clad in strong armor that didn’t suit his youthful look. once you’re sure that you’ve created enough distance from yeonjun, you slow down, coming to a leisure walk amongst the people within the town.

the sea of townsfolk seem not to recognize you, and for that you’re immensely grateful.

the last time you sneaked out of the palace and into town, a crowd of people had decided to follow you and give their greetings – some children even wanted to drag you home with them, insisting that you partake in their little ‘acting gig’ where they pretend to be knights in shining armor protecting the princess from pirates.

your role as the princess made it more realistic and fun, as the children had reasoned. yeonjun had to personally drag you away from the children to take you back to the palace.

this time, however, you decided to borrow an old dress from one of the servants instead of using one form your own closet to blend in with the townsfolk and avoid any attention, as well as a piece of cloth covering the lower half of your face. pretty common choice of ‘disguise’ for royals, but you didn’t have much to work with.

your ears catch the tune of an old folksong played on the familiar sound of a lyre amidst the constant chatter of people around you. several townsfolk seemed to have noticed the melody as well, their faces lighting up as they make their way further into the town square and nearer to the music. you tag along, smiling with excitement.

a crowd of people have gathered around the town square, surrounding a long-haired bard who’s reciting a story (or poem? you’re not quite sure) alongside the soothing melody that he plays on his lyre.

having always a deep interest in song and music despite your title, you find yourself lost within the tale that the bard sings.

oh, the ocean that carries the suffering of he,

who wanders the world to find the stars.

but oh, how he finds himself lost in she,

who has one too many scars.

the moon ties their destinies together,

so cruel, evil and unworthy to forgive.

for how can the cursed and the saint care for each other,

when the heavens have decided only one of them shall live.

with a final strum of his lyre, the bard ends his performance, relishing in the cheers of the crowd that surrounds him. his long hair falls from his shoulders as he bows to his audience.

you, however, aren’t so enthusiastic as you clap for the bard.

‘such a sad story.’ your mind speaks, an unfamiliar ache in your chest as the song repeats itself several times within the confines of your head.

you were far too engrossed with your own thoughts to notice someone quickly pushing their way through the audience, shoving away the townspeople left and right without seemingly a care in the world and leaving the crowd mumbling curses. the person shoves you aside as well, making you loose your balance and causing you to fall backwards onto the muddied ground.

just before you had the chance to curse at the stranger for their audacity, they cut you off.

“i’m so sorry – here, let me help you.” the person says, their words falling from their lips in such a rush to the point you probably wouldn’t have understood if they weren’t leaning down closely to you. you look up at the culprit who dared to shove you and your people away, and you notice how young he looks. he has an arm outstretched in hopes to help you stand back up, but before you could accept the offer, a loud voice shouts from amidst the sea of townsfolk around you.

“there he is, the thieving bastard! get him!”

the young man curses underneath his breath. he gives you a quick glance, his eyes conveying the apology he owes you before he runs off. you watch silently as a small group of other men make their way through the crowd in a way that’s rougher than how the boy earlier had done, sending more people toppling over their feet as they yell for the boy to stop running.

your eyes narrow. the boy was a thief, no doubt about it – and yet, he was kind enough to help you after accidentally causing your fall.

‘he’s a thief.’ you scold yourself, shaking your head in attempt to get rid of the way his hair shined under the sun and how soft his voice sounded when he apologized.

thieving is a crime. thieves are criminals, and the boy is a thief.  a criminal.why should you help him, right? right. you should keep yourself out of trouble and go back to your leisure stroll around the kingdom. don’t think about how young the thief looked like, and how he must have been stealing only to fend for himself – or maybe even his family. don’t think about it, damn it!

the crowd around you begins to scatter, the townspeople returning to their own work once the commotion died down, and you still haven’t gotten up. you turn around to look at the direction the boy ran off to.

you wonder what’s happening to him. has he escaped? have the other men caught up to him? what are they doing to him, if they have..?

“… ugh, fine.” you groan, forcing yourself onto your feet and running in the same way the thief headed off to. you pass several stalls and enter a dark alleyway, the messy prints on the mud underneath you serving as a guide to where the boy must have ran. without another thought, you follow the leads deeper into the alleyway.

you’re unsure of your own direction, head spinning from the amount of turns you’ve made, but judging from the sound of yelling that’s increasing in volume with every turn you make, you think you’re getting closer.

you slow yourself down from running once the loud shouts sound like they’re right around the corner. your heart beats furiously against your chest, and it nearly stops when you hear pained groans after the yelling stops.

“damn thief,” you hear the rough voice of a man in the alleyway to your right, and you slowly creep your way closer to peek by the wall. “think you could steal our hard earned gold coins just like that? fucking amateur.”

the man crouches down, and you cover your mouth to muffle a surprised gasp as the sight of the boy from earlier enters your sight.

he’s been beaten, badly so – his left eye is swollen and colored an ugly dark purple, blood oozing from several cuts on his youthful face and dripping from his nose. the man is lifting him up from his collar, and the boy doesn’t even try to fight back.

you wonder if he’s even able to, at this point.

“too bad the royal guards didn’t catch you first,” the man snarls at the boy, who doesn’t respond. “they would’ve given you a faster and less painful death than what i’m about to do.”

another man reaches for something on his belt, and even from the distance you’re standing at, you can catch the menacing glint of a dagger.

seconds before the man is about to stab the thief right in the chest, he feels something hard hit him at the back of his head.

“ow, what the hell?” the man curses before turning around with a scowl, and he’s met with the sight of you – standing a few feet away, arm trembling as you hold up a pebble above your head, threatening to throw it at the men in front of you.

“unhand him at once!” you shout, ignoring the fact that your voice is shaking. “i will – i will give you more gold coins than what he has stolen. just let him go.”

‘what are you saying?!’ your mind screams at you, knowing well enough that you didn’t bring a single gold coin or anything valuable with you on your stroll. since, y’know, this was just supposed to be a calming and nice stroll around the kingdom – not some rescue mission, damn it.

if the men don’t kill you, then yeonjun definitely will once he finds out what you’ve been up to.

you’re met with nothing but the sound of silence and your own heartbeat in your ears, until one man decides to break it by roughly dropping the thief onto the ground. you wince as you watch how his head thuds on the floor.

“he stole my entire life savings worth of gold coins, girl.” the man says, grabbing the dagger from the other man into his own clenched fist as he slowly approaches you. “you’ve gotta be one of the royals if you’re gonna give me more than that.”

how ironic, you muse to yourself. you take in a deep breath to calm yourself down as you wait in silence for the man to come closer, and you let it go in the form of a scared whimper as you feel the sharp end of the dagger against your stomach.

“so?” the man growls. “where’s the coins, stupid little girl?”

oh, damn it all to hell.

you meet the mans glare with one of your own as you straighten yourself up, tossing away the pebble you were previously holding to take off the cloth covering the lower half of your face.

“in the palace, you ruffian. want me to send it to you by carriage tomorrow?” you spit out, and you feel the dagger move away from your stomach as the man’s eye widen.

“princess?” he staggers back. you notice how the other men behind him tense up as well.

“i – we – i apologize, your highness. i had no idea–”

“save it.” you interrupt, and the man quickly presses his lips into a thin line. “leave, before i report you to the guards and make you spend your entire life in the dungeons for threatening the princess.”

the man mumbles out something under his breath as he scurries off with his head hung low, the other men tailing after him and muttering apologies to you as they pass. once they’re all out of sight, you let out a heavy breath that you’ve been holding.

your knees are shaking and your heart feels like it’s about to fall out of your chest, but you bear it no mind as you hurriedly make your way to the boy who’s still laying down on the dirty ground at the end of the alleyway, his pained groans reaching your ears.

“hey,” you crouch down to him once you’ve fixed back the cloth over your face. “can you hear me? hello?”

the boy merely groans again.

“alright, let’s get you somewhere else.” you mumble, reaching over to lift one of the boys arm to wrap them around your shoulder as your own arm supports him, slowly lifting him up from the ground. fortunately for you, he’s not that heavy.

the thief lets out another pained groan as you drag him along with you out of the alleyway, his head falling forward and swaying around with every shaky step you take. soon enough, you’re out of the dirty alleyways and you arrive at a small, isolated building that stands alone at the edge of the town.

a small sign swings and squeaks from the wind above your head as you stand atop the three steps of stairs leading to the front door. you knock twice.

a moment passes before the door creaks open ever so slightly, and you can barely make out the eyes that stare at you from behind the door due to the darkness from inside the building.

“state your business.” a croaky, low voice comes from the person behind the door. you clear your throat before speaking.

“apologies for the sudden intrusion,” you mumble. “but the stars need your help to shine again.”

the eyes within the darkness widen, and the door slams shut in your face. you wait patiently as the sound of multiple locks being opened from within the building reaches your ears. the door swings open again, and you’re met with a familiar hunched figure of an old lady clad in a black clothing and white hair that grows pass her torso.

“the stars will shine brighter for you,” the old woman steps aside for you to step in, bowing her head as you make your way inside. “your highness.”

“and they will remain so, for eternity.” you mutter out the last part of the secret phrase your parents taught you when you were younger, offering a gentle smile to the lady before she locks up the door again.

the phrase was created by the royals before your generation, serving as a secret code between the royal family and a select few when they are in need of some dire help. back when your kingdom was caught in terrible war, the royal family couldn’t afford to be vulnerable out in the open where enemies and spies could be anywhere, waiting for the moment to take them down.

despite the kingdom has been in wonderful peace for the last 70 years, the royal family still teaches their young regarding the phrase. this is the first time you’ve used it yourself, even though you thought it would be useless when your mother had introduced it to you during your younger years.

“it’s quite a surprise to see you here, dear princess.” the old lady gestures to you once she’s done with all the locks and bolts on the front door. you blink your eyes a few times to adjust your sight in the darkness of the room, the only source of light present being the fireplace that crackles behind you.

“i know,” you admit, earning a fond chuckle from the lady. “but i didn’t know where else to go. i, uh, need some help.” you adjust the boy that’s leaning against you as if to emphasize on your words, and he lets out a low whine in response.

“i can see that.” the lady smiles knowingly before ushering you to come closer. you do so, and she places a gently hand on your back.

“place the lad on one of the beds upstairs, i will prepare some medicine for him and a cup of tea for you.” before you could protest to her last few words, she pushes you towards the flight of spiral stairs that leads to the second floor and quickly walks off to the kitchen.

‘same creepy old lady even after all these years.’ you think to yourself, remembering the first time you encountered her alongside your father when you were a mere little girl. your father wished to introduce you to her – isolde, if you remember her name correctly – as one of the royal family’s trusted few. apparently, during her youth, she had helped the former kings and queens seek refuge within her home at times of war or simple hardship, and she remains true to her duties till this day.

you carry the thief up the stairs with much effort, the wooden steps creaking loudly to the point you wince at the noise, afraid the steps might break in half at any moment. the fact that the dim lighting from the dusty windows on the wall is the only thing keeping you from tripping and falling on the stairs does not help, either.

once you arrive at the top of the stairs and into the second floor, you’re met with a bit more adequate lighting thanks to the lamps on the wall. you push open one of the doors leading to a spacious bedroom, the creaking noises making you shudder. does isolde never oil her doors?

carefully, you place the thief onto the queen sized bed in the middle of the room, watching him lay down on the soft mattress as you stretch your back with a loud groan. you swear you can hear your bones cracking.

“hah, this is the first and last time i’m carrying someone so far.” you complain. obviously, the thief doesn’t respond, and you’re starting to worry. all this while he’s been really quiet other than the occasional groans he makes. can he even speak anymore, you wonder? is he too weak to speak? did the ruffians break with voice box?

“…hey.” you reach out to the boy, gently shaking him by the shoulder. “how are you feeling? are you okay?”

you receive no response. your heart sinks.

“hey, don’t you dare die on me after i carried you here!” you shake the boy harder, this time with your hands on both of his shoulders as you lean over his body from the side of the bed. “c’mon, please say something, anything at all.”

a moment passes by. you notice how the boy’s lips are parting, as if he’s trying to finally say something, and you wait in anticipation.

“thank… you.” he croaks out. you blink, leaning back in mild surprise before smiling down at him from behind the cloth that covers the lower half of your face.

“don’t mention it,” you respond. “i’m glad you’re alive. i have to take my leave now, please rest well.”

before you could remove your hands from the boy’s shoulders, he catches one of your wrists in his hold, surprising you.

“come… visit,” he speaks, gently squeezing onto your wrist. “next time… please.”

and so you do.

you visit the boy during his stay at isolde’s house, time after time. you come to learn that his name is hongjoong – a young man who comes from a poor family consisting of his parents, his older brother, and himself. he resorted to thieving when his family couldn’t afford to buy food to support themselves anymore. he admitted that he hated stealing during one of your talks with him during a rainy night, and that he could’ve easily fought back against the ruffians who beat him that day, but decided not to.

“i deserved it,” hongjoong had said that night, teeth sinking into the apple isolde gave him. “i’d be lying if i said i don’t feel bad for stealing.”

you didn’t respond to him as you sat next to each other on the queen sized bed, but your heart broke.

frankly, you didn’t know how to respond. how could you, when you’ve been born into a lineage of royalty? how could you say anything to the young man who has betrayed his own morals to fend for his family, when you had feast upon feast each day within the castle walls?

“joong,” you spoke up after a moment, the nickname you made for the boy falling easily from your lips as if you had known him for years. “do you know who i am?”

hongjoong had looked at you weirdly, raising his eyebrow in question as he took another bite into his apple.

“uh, obviously?” he replied as he chewed. you had smiled at how adorable he looked. “you’re byeol, the dumb girl who could’ve gotten herself killed while trying to save me.”

byeol. you feel a muscle in your face twitch. you had given him a fake, random name that first came to your mind when he asked during one of your first talks together. you were already quite suspicious as he didn’t recognize who you are when you didn’t cover your face one day, but you initially brushed it off as some kind of short-term memory loss due to the beating he got.

but weeks passed, and he still doesn’t have a clue on who you are. that’s when you knew he was lying about one thing to you.

hongjoong is not from your kingdom, despite him telling stories of how he is.

it bothered you a bit at the start, but then you came to realize it’s quite refreshing to have someone be clueless on your identity – to have someone be naturally them, with no titles and no courtesies.

so you decided to lie to him too.

“yeah,” you flashed him a smile. “that’s me, i’m byeol.”

weeks turned into months, and you’re beginning to see hongjoong every day now ever since he recovered entirely from his injuries. since you’re adamant on keeping your identity a secret to him, you’ve convinced your parents to leave you out from anything that involved showing your face to the public as princess. they questioned you once, and you responded with a simple shrug, leaving the conversation afterwards. your parents didn’t question you again during the following days.

you’ve also started sneaking out of the palace every night to meet up with hongjoong, with the guards (including yeonjun, thankfully) either asleep in their own homes or asleep whilst they’re on duty, making your job so much easier.

“glad i’m out of that haunted house,” the light haired boy shivers as he sits beside you, the soft candlelight offering its shine to illuminate his features before your eyes. “did you know she peeks into my room in the middle of the night sometimes? creepy old lady, i swear –”

“isolde’s just making sure you’re okay, idiot.” you nudge against him roughly, making him almost fall off the small bed the two of you are currently sitting on.

“okay, but that doesn’t make it any less creepier!” hongjoong protests, and you throw your head back with a loud laugh at how genuinely scared he seems to be around isolde.

hongjoong smiles ever so fondly as he watches you laugh on his small bed inside his cramped room. well, it’s not quite a room, honestly – it’s more of an attic that sits on top of one of the taller buildings within the kingdom that he turned into his own little space, filling it up with numerous books and papers scribbled with poems that express his feelings.

most of them were made for you, but he won’t tell you that. at least not now.

in his hands is another piece of parchment, already crumpled from the way he’s practically gripping onto it nervously.

“she’s a sweet lady if you get to know her more, really.” you wipe away a stray tear that fell from your eye from laughing so hard before leaning backwards against the wall behind you, the funny feeling of prickly wood against your back.

“uh, right,” you giggle at the way hongjoong scrunches his nose when he speaks. “but enough of her – let’s talk about something else.”

you straighten yourself up at hongjoong’s words, a smile on your lips as you’re eager to hear what he has in store for you. you know he enjoys writing in his free time, judging by his works that he has pasted on the walls of his room as well as the ones stacked on his small work table, and it makes you admire him more.

you wish, oh how you wish, that you could live as free as him. a part of you envies the young man and his freedom, all while you’re tied to responsibility ever since your birth. as the first and only child of the king and queen, you��re expected to rule over the kingdom once you’re of age, and it’s the only thing you’ve ever known.

until you met hongjoong. dear, dear hongjoong who doesn’t have a single clue on who you are and expects absolutely nothing from you - except for you to laugh at his lame dad jokes, dance with him in the rain until the both of you are sneezing away the next day, and cheer for him once he’s done reciting another one of his poems.

“what do you have this time, oh dear poet?” you look at the light haired boy expectantly. hongjoong is grateful that the only source of light in his room is the little candle next to his bed, so you won’t be able to see how red his face is right now.

with a dramatic clear of his throat that makes you chuckle, hongjoong straightens out the paper in his hands before reading the words that contain his whole heart within the letters.

my dear starlight, oh how you’ve shined your way into my life,

so bright and beautiful, the north star that leads me home.

one day, i wish to call you my wife,

and to be together for the longest of eternities that the universe has ever known.

“joong, oh my god–”

“i’m not done yet, dearest.”

“okay!”

hongjoong’s laughter sounds like bells in your ears. you gesture him to keep going despite the fact that you feel like you’re about to explode, and he continues.

may our love last, past the final breaths of the immortals,

until even the sun and moon have met their dues.

for with you by my side, not a moment feels dull,

and i will say the words that i have only said to very few…

“i love you.” hongjoong breathes out the last words quietly, eyes leaving the paper in his hands to look at you with hope in his eyes; he’s surprised to see tears in yours.

“hey, oh my god, please don’t–”

the young man is unable to finish his sentence when you lean in to catch his lips in a kiss, uncaring towards the slightly salty taste from the tears that fall from your eyes as he wraps his arms around your figure to pull you closer.

you lean against him, fingers gently carding through the tangles in his light hair as you pour your whole heart into the kiss, where hongjoong gladly accepts it all, feeling as if he’s drowning from your affection. his hands wander around to slip underneath the thin material of your top, cold fingers meeting your warm sides and making you shiver in his arms.

you’re the first to pull away and catch your breath. hongjoong keeps his attention on your lips for a moment before gazing into your eyes, and he can’t grasp how beautiful you look even with the simple fire that blazes on the wick of the candle beside his bed.

“… does this mean you love me too?” hongjoong breathes out, earning himself a slap on his shoulder from you.

“of course, idiot.” you grin, heart softening impossibly so as you watch how hongjoong smiles back at you, seemingly satisfied with your answer.

“then i wish you’d really stay with me for the longest of eternities, starlight.”

you hum, allowing yourself to lay down against hongjoong’s chest as he caresses your hair, the feeling of his gentle hands playing with your locks lulling you to sleep.

“anything for you, joong.” you mumble, falling into slumber with a smile on your lips. “anything for you.”

for the first time in your life, you fall asleep outside the palace walls and in the arms of your love.

as you listen to the sound of hongjoong’s beating heart, you fail to hear the sobs of the heavens.

next.

[mikoyamisheadcanonblog]

Comfort (Ace x Mor)

@drawingaddict1

Ace glanced at Mor, her head was done, she was curled up under several sheets of blankets, she was hurting again. He was at a loss, there were memories she never shared with him, emotions she never told him, he knew he wouldn’t understand. She went through so much, hell and back and when they were together, she never showed signs of her struggles.

She threw on a smile for him, whispered his name when he was sad and comforted him when he needed the warmth of another body. Yet, during her pain he was lost of words, loss of thought. His mind was racing what to tell the beautiful woman before him, as she was curled sniffling under the sheets. He had learned to ignore it, not out of cruelty but of kindness.

She hated showing weakness, showing acknowledgement to her tears would only aggravate her more. She would feel weak, she would feel selfish for crying about her pain when he was laying next to her. She wanted to heal his pain, she wanted to keep him protected but he was also selfish and wished to do the same for her.

He placed his hand on his aching heart at every sniffle that escaped she was trying not to wake him, not knowing he was long awake and had listened to her suffering, but he wanted to protect her from her dangerous mind but again he had no idea where to start. What words would he use to comfort her. He wasn’t sure.

Instead, he wrapped his arms around her waist pushing her closer, nuzzling his head on his shoulder, he began to hum an old east blue song he heard mothers hum to their young ones whenever he passed by. He was off key on a few notes. “Mor,” he whispered her name, “I love you,” he was pretending he didn’t hear her sniffles her tears, while she was struggling to put a brave face.

“Are you hungry?” More whispered back to him.

Ace shook his head, he was just taking in the silence. Her warmth. “Let’s stay like this for a while,” he didn’t want to leave just yet.

[jazz-miester]

My world has ended. So will yours.

Pairing: Ravage x Reader

Reader type: Gender Neutral human

Song: Blackout days- Phantogram

Warnings: Reader injury. Speaking of loss of loved ones. Swearing. Angst.

An: Dude. I absolutely adored this request! The pairing doesn't come until later in the story but I had a fun time building up a bit of backstory!

Word count: 3,039

Tags: @astridkolch

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"Why are you full of rage? Because you are full of grief."

- Anne Carson, Grief Lessons: Four Plays by Euripides

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Earth was coming to an end. Or, at the very least. That is what it felt like. The aliens, Cybertronian's they called themselves. We're slowly tearing this world apart.

Although some do not mean it. Large meccanoids regularly coming back to fix towns and cities. Places they had a hand in destroying.  They were more advanced than your kind. Helping rebuild homes stronger and more sturdy. Hurdling Earth's technology far ahead of it's time. No weapons though. Nothing that could possibly help you defend against them.

Nothing that you could use and hurt your fellow human.

You've seen the Autobot leader. You stood in the back if a small crowd. The sooty and tearstained faces of your neighbors looking to him. For what you didn't know.

Hope? Empathy?

He spoke as if he did. Gave you his name. His words. The promise to be rid of the Decepticons. "To have peace upon your world." You scoffed.

People began to cry out. A viscous growl if named. Venom and hurt.

The face of the Prime falls. His very being seeming to sink into the concrete ground. A pink feminine figure lays a hand in his shoulder.

That look he gave her. You knew that look. The very same your father gave your mother. So soft and full. When he was tired she brought him up. Just as the pink one was doing now.

So. They were capable of love.

Slowly you made your way to the front. Helping your fallen neighbors to their feet.  As you do so, something dark blurs in the corner of your vision. It sends your head turning to where it came from.

Tamara. Sweet and kind Tamara. The elderly woman who could barley harm a fly let alone show any kind of violence. Her hand was coated in mud. The dark coating or dirt pulled from a nearby pot. The same mud that now coated the side of Primes wide eyed face.

"Leave us." Her voice shrilled and cracked. "You bring nothing but death to us." One of them. A large mech coated in red steps forward. The Primes stops him. Hand in his chest as he still looks at Tamara.

You go to her. Try to calm her. Instead she grips your arms. She stains your shirt with the mud. Her brown eyes are blown wide. Bright and shiney. They moved swiftly side to side as she studied you. Shallow breaths left her lips quickly and her body trembled. Loose ringlets if curls shook from her normal slicked back style. A whimper left her lips.

Scared. She was scared.

"I lost my grandchild because of them. They need to leave.

As if the group had been waiting for her final words they surged forwards. Hurling a manner of things to the group of four Bots. Drinks. Rocks. Mud. You swore you even saw Delilah's stuffed bunny hit the red one.

"Leave!"

"Your kind are nothing but monsters!"

"My wife-My son-My Daughter!"

"You are no better than the ones you claim to protect us from!"

The words hurt. You knew this. Saw it. Their frames seem to break and fall. But at the same time you connected more with your townsfolk.

Still. It is not there fault the Decepticons will not leave. And, in the end. No one deserves such cruelty. You've seen the footage on social media feeds. You have seen Autobots taking hits to the point of death to save humans.

Your feet move before your thoughts catch up. You get caught in the crossfire the closer you get to them. Mud slinging against your back. Coating your hair.

The Prime leans down. You look up. Hands trembling as nervousness overtakes you.

"What do you need young one?" Your chest hurts when you speak next.

"You need to leave. For your own safety. These people." You gesture behind you aimlessly."They're hurting. And you being here is making it worse. Please. We will be fine if you go." The tears fall. "Just. Leave. Take Morgan street then Looking Glass road. You'll be able to leave in peace." It pains you to send them away. It hurts worse to see your friends in such a state.

The Primes face falls. "Truly? Is there no aid I can offer? There are camps." You stood him there's wave your hand.

"My family is dead. Now go." You leave at that. All the kindness in your heart leaving. And truly, the man is still willing to help in the face of those who speak his name as poison. He did not deserve your cruelty.

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With time came change. And with change you grew.  You mourned every loss. Celebrated every victory. Grew into a new person with others. Stronger and more willed. And yet, some lost the only true gift In This world. Their kindness. Their love. The ability to help without expectations.

Lost the meaning of being human in a crisis.

Your town had kicked you out over that. Showing kindness to their so called enemy. Nearly a year has passed since then. Still, the hurt had not ceased.

The group you were in now had been a serendipitous moment. It was also a choice born of desperation.

They said all they did was helped. Pulling people from the ashes of fallen homes. Helped them stand firmly on their own two feet after it all.

You thought that was what you were doing. Up until the point you saw one of your "teammates"  demanding a young woman to pay them.

"I helped you. Know you help me." When she pleaded. Told him she had nothing. That her home had been burned and with it everything she had. He rose a fist to hit her. Only to be stopped when you pulled his arm back.

"What the fuck David?" He laughed. Let the woman go.

"What?" He asked. "We hell them and they don't own us nothin'?" He steps to you. Eyes bright as his lips curl into a ghost of a smile. "I don't know what you or Boss is on, but I ain't doin' this for free. So back off. Or I'll make you pay for it instead."

You step back. Disgust turning your stomach. "You're sick. You know that. Right?" You motion with no clear direction. "But if we had to "pay back" after we got help no one would be in a good place right now. You forget we were no different that her when Boss's crew helped us."

He seemed to mull this over. Then laughed. By now the young woman had left. Taking with her the water and canned goods you had give her.

"Then both of you are stupider than I thought." David spoke. "Think. We could be living lavishly right now. Not worrying about food. Drink. " He paused. "Bodies." He tagged that last bit on. Eyeing you up and down. You spat into the dirt. Ridding yourself the taste of ash and the rising bile from his gross suggestion.

"Greed will get you nowhere. Others will think the same. Do the same to you." David took offense to that.

"Do you really think you know me? I've lost things. People. I should be allowed to be selfish." He's in front of you now. Nose almost brushing yours. You could feel the heat rolling off of him. Almost fever hit in it's intensity.

"You're not the only one David. Everyone has lost something because of them. We need peace amongst ourselves. Not. Not this."

Your head swivels before the pain hits. Hot warmth cradling your jaw as you begin to regain your senses. You stagger back. Stop. Stare at David who is seething.

Blood. You taste blood.

.

.

.

The fight wants long. A few minutes and most. It left David running to lick his wounds and you staring into the rubble of. the city that once was Portland. You leave to tell your boss your no longer helping.

The faith you once held in humanity now gone. Desperation born of ruin.

.

.

.

Six months left you numb. Stumbling across more hurt than hope. More greed than selflessness. It left you ill.

Your travels lead you somewhere North. Snow overtaking the ground. Feet stepping into one of the few towns left intact. It is there you find some semblance of peace.

You live with them. A family kind enough to take you in until you could be in your own to feet. Long enough to be able to rebuild and abandoned house.

You do your part as well. Helping the young couple with cleaning and repairs in their own house. Offering to help with their gardens or over watching the twins. Carwyn and Arwen. Cute names. Adorable children. Although they did keep on sneaking your sweets away. It was cute thier laughter when they thought they got away with something.

The couple, Laura and Kate, were the ones to help you into your new home. It was small. Only three rooms. A bedroom a bathroom and the kitchen connected with the living room.

And it was yours.

The two made sure you had plenty of food. Pointed you in the direction of work to help earn your keep. Almost no one used money anymore. Instead choosing to fall back on old ways of commerce. It was nice.

You got comfortable. Got into a steady routine. Get up before the sun. Coffee. Get dressed. And then go work for the old man down the road. Finish there and help anyone else who needed it. You would go home then. Wind down. Eat dinner. And write. The only constant that has stuck in this life. A habit your not willing to let go.

It happens again in the summer. Early in the morning while your drinking your coffee. Still clothed in the thin shirt and shorts you fell asleep in.

You could smell it. The acid blend of ozone and what you've come to recognize as blaster fire. Your heart stops. Your breathing becomes short.

No. No. No.

It can't be. Not here. Not now. Not when everything was getting better. Not when you just began healing.

You do the first thing you think of. Lacing up boots and pulling in jeans as you run out the front door. Your coffee spilled all over the table on your back porch. The table the twins made for you. A table you may never see again.

"Laura! Kate!" Your voice shrills in the morning air. Cool misty air wets your warming face. Does nothing to calm your beating heart. People stop and stare at you. Running down the road. Panicked and frightened.

You could see it now. The bright red arcs shooting just outside the town.

You stood in the middle of the road. In front of Laura and Kate's home. You pull in a shuddering breath.

"Fuck." The curse repeats on your lips. "Everyone! We have to go. Now!" They say nothing. Watch you slacked jawed. For the longest time they had only knew you and cold and collected. A person who thought before they spoke. Only warming to the young kids and lending a helping hand to those who needed it. Never expecting anything back.

"Y/n?" It was Kate. The mousy haired women jogging out her front door. Still dressed in her blue nightgown.

"Kate. We need to leave. The town need to go." She looked out you. Bewildered.

"Y/n. There's nothing happening you. Are you okay?" She lays a hand on your shoulder. Eyes Darting to the sky above. Following the arc of light over the town. "Y/n?" Your hands shook. You looked to her. Mouth dry as you spoke.

"The Decepticons. They are here. We. We need to go. Everyone!" You looked to them. "We need to leave. This town won't make it. Pack only what you need. Food. Clothes. Camping gear." Your voice echoed down the street. No one moved. Your heart skipped a beat. That acidic stench filling your lungs. Stronger now as it got closer.

"Go!" Your voice was even and steady. And it seemed to be the first falling domino. The town flooded into a flurry. Neighbors waking those who were yet to rouse. Talking amongst themselves what was needed.

Your were winded by the time you made it home. Immediately throwing bags already packed out of paranoia into the back of an old Chevy. The truck you've been fixing since you got here.

You tossed a car seat into the middle. Left the other bare. Just incase. Just incase.

The first blast hit moments later. Tearing up the road and homes in an explosive burst of power. Heat rolled through the town. Hotter that any summer heat you may have endured as a child.

You got out of the truck. Began directing others to the other end of town. Telling them where to go. A path you went over and over again as the months passed. Just incase. Just incase this moment happened.

God you wished you never needed it. That your paranoia was getting the best of you.

Carwyn and Arwen we're terrified. Tired eyes full of quiet tears as thier mothers loaded then into their car. Laura came up to you as Kate loaded the last of their belongings in.

"Y/n?" You looked down at her. A faint smile on your face.

"You know. I never really got to say thank you for." She cut you off.

"No. Tell us when we make it out of here." Your snort.

"If Laura. I'm not fool enough to think everyone will make it." You push her to her car. To her wife. "Now go. I'll follow. I just have to be sure everyone made it out." Her face falls.

"Please. Be safe." You say nothing. Watch as she gets in her car. Watch the scared faces of the twins through the windows. Their eyes never leaving yours.

It's only after they're gone do you let yourself grieve. A few falling tears. The bitting of your fist. The explosion of breath leaving your lungs as your body shakes. Trembling still as you enter the Chevy. Tears drying as you slowly press on the gas. A slow cruise down the road as you watch for stragglers.

The second blast hits. Sending your truck careening forward. The horn screams as the truck flips. Your breath leaving you as it skids across the road. The large metal leg filling the windows as it's rolls to a stop.

The door opens. The belt catches. Loosens.

A third blast. Your hair singes. Skin burns. Old wounds resurface.

A fourth. A fifth.

A prayer on your lips.

A sixth. Seventh.

Homes burn.

Eighth. Ninth.

A fallen body. Either Autobot or Decepticon. You don't stick around to find out.

They spoke in a foreign tongue. Their voices filling your ears as you ran. Heart a battering ram in your chest. Your lungs felt as if they would collapse. Your body grew cold. Your legs numbed.

Tenth.

Your body flew. Hit the ground a few feet away. A shriek left your lips. A sob tore your throat. Your leg. Oh fuck your leg.

Move move move!

You couldn't. Your head turned. Tears blurred your vision. Heat rolled over your trembling body.

A final breath. Your vision tunneled. Then left.

.

.

.

You woke to the sound of voices. No. Voice. Timbered and low.

"Human?" A nudge at your jaw. A low hum left your chest. You moved. A nearly screamed at the pain that followed. Your eyes shot open. A whimpered curse left your lips. "Human? Answer me." You looked to the source of the sound.

Oh you cursed every god in those start skies. One of them. One. Cybertronian. Was this one good or bad? Will. Will they hurt you? And. Were. Are that a cat?

"You're injured. Can you move?" And they talked? Did you hit your head. Your fingers brushed your brow. They nudged you.

"No." Came the raspy response. The cat hummed. Jeweled eyes roved over you.

"What is your name?" You scoffed. Spat.

"You first." They laughed. He? You think this one was a he. Talking cat or otherwise.

"Ravage." You let you head fall.

"Y/n. Although." You stopped. Coughed. "I don't see why you care so much." Ravage laid down next to you. Long body guarding you from cold winds that you just now noticed.

"I don't know why either, Y/n." His head turned. Looked down to you. "You humans. You fear us. I know why. But you. I watched you." His voice was a low rumble now. "Unlike others you tried to help. " He paused. Shifted. Looked to his left. Then back again.

"Your people are safe because of you. They left just as the battle reached here. You." He paused. Mulling over his words. Watched you as tears fell from your eyes. The starlight reflected in them. "You are loyal to those you care about. And we can always use another like that. You are not the first human. Not will you be the last of either sides I'm sure." You bared your teeth.

"And why would I help the people who have a hand in destroying my world." He grinned. Metal fanged glistened in the moonlight.

"You do not have a choice. Human. If you wish to have help. The Autobots will not come back for you. They think all the humans fled and instead are with them. You are alone here. Except my help." You coughed. Shivered despite his warmth.

"Fine. Just know. I'll be sure your world ends to. Despite whatever loyalty you think I have." Ravage laughed. Curled into you further.

"Oh believe me human. I know it will. But, I do know you will enjoy their company." His tailed arced over head. His head, large as it was, curled over yours. Warmth flooded I over you. Made your body grown heavy.

"Rest know. And trust me when I say no harm will come of you."

Despite not wanting to you did fall asleep. A mixture of fear and pain. Your body to tires to fight it. At the very least you will be rested for whatever was to come.

[deleteddewewted]

Young! Shinsou Headcanons

(For @questioning-potato)

Fluffy and cute. Thats all you're going to find here because i can only imagine how lonely his childhood must have been like considering the way people speak about him canonically. So let's give him a friend!

(Drawing by Keiid. The full drawing can be found on Twitter under @keiidakamya. Please go support them and their work because its so beautiful and amazing!)

Shinsou had no friends. It wasn't that he didn't try but it was more that no one wanted to be around him.

Parents would tell their kids to avoid speaking with him which would lead to him not being able to play on the playground because everyone would either block him from playing or leave him alone on the playground and ignored him.

At some point he decided to just stay in his classroom for recess and spent his time reading a book.

One day, his teacher told the class that a new student was going to join them today.

It was you. You stood in front of the whole class and told them your name, age, favorite color, and favorite food.

Everyone was exited to have a new classmate to play with. Shinsou in the other hand wasn't because it meant that you were going to be another person who’d bully him.

During the following week you noticed that Shinsou would keep to himself and wouldn’t leave the classroom when recess or lunch was called.

Worried you stayed behind and talked with him.

Shinsou being so used to people treating him with cruelty was surprised when you were so nice to him.

“Are you ok?” He didn’t know how to answer but he knew that with you he did feel ok.

You both built a solid friendship afterwards.

No one messed with you because you're so nice which meant that Shinsou would also be left alone and the bulling eventually stopped.

He promised you he would never use his quirk on you

He was told you that he would use his quirk for you because "Were friends, right?"

He told you about how he wanted to be a hero and you just fully supported him.

You didn’t care what others thought, you just wanted your friend to be happy because he looked very pretty when he smiled. (You had a small crush one him. Who could blame you, though?)

He would bring you a book full of cat pictures for the two of you to look at during lunch/recess.

He would also share all of his things with you. You like his shirt? The next day he brings it to you washed and folded for you to wear. Like his cat stickers that have a fur like texture to them? He asked his parents for his allowance earlier than usual so he could go buy you a brand new pack of the same stickers he already owned.

He loved it when you hugged him or would get close to him. To him it means that you aren’t afraid of him.

During recess, if you were tired enough, he would have you sleep on him. Your head would lay on top of his shoulder and he would just sit there reading or looking at you.

He would protect you.

You both would hangout at either ones house to finish up homework and then play games with each other.

He liked seeing you smile because it showed that you enjoyed his company.

He liked seeing you in general because he thought you were very pretty. 🥺

Your classmate would sometimes tease you both about it because of how close you both are with each other.

Someone once called him your boyfriend and he honestly expected you to say that “ewww, gross.” (Something a long those lines.)

But instead you tell them that you both aren’t dating and that "Hitoshi would be the best boyfriend ever! Anyone would be lucky to date him!"

His face got all red and his heart did flips. 😳

He was also a bit relieved that you said that because he really liked you. He wanted to spend all of his time with you.

That day when you and him walked to his house, he said his goodbyes at his door and you left to your own house down the street.

He ran up to his room and pulled out a little journal from his desk drawer.

"Dear Dairy, today y/n said that they thought i would make a good boyfriend. That made my heart do something funny and i started sweating a lot. They grabbed my hand and yelled at our classmates, that made me sweat more. Y/n is so cool!"

(Precious child. Must protect at all cost 🥰)

[kosmosguk]

Lineage (M) | 3

Pairing: Duke Yoongi x Princess Reader; Duke Namjoon x Princess Reader (one-sided)

Word Count: 8.7K

Summary: When an engagement locks you, the 8th and forgotten princess, to the duke infamous for his cruelty, you find yourself counting the days until your inevitable death. It’s terrifying to think of your end, but when you arrive at his territory, you realize there’s a more morbid reason behind your marriage, and that the duke is much worse than the rumors have painted him out to be.

Warnings:  HEAVY yandere themes, mentions of gore and death, future major character(s) death, near-death experiences, obsessive behaviors, manipulation, SMUT (cunnilingus; a whole 1.5k of pure smut: blindfolded, unprotected sex; exhibitionism; a bit of breeding), 18+, explicit language, self-loathing

A/N: Finally! The banquet scene (and a wonderful helping of Namjoon) is here! I hope you guys stick with Lineage and me to the very end of our journey <3 This chapter took a bit of time to write (can’t believe it’s 3k more words than the last part). Please, if you liked this part, comment or leave a detailed review (reading them makes me super happy and motivated)! Thank you for 2.6k+ followers :)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 |

“Namjoon?’’

He stood up and turned around to look at you. Though he now had an aura, both elegant and cold, that was similar to the Duke’s, you could recognize that face anywhere. His expression was schooled into a composed and almost frigid look, a look that sent shivers down your spine. However, as soon as you felt goosebumps rising on your skin, his expression turned warm. It almost felt like you were imagining the coldness you had felt from him before. He smiled at you in the same manner that he had done when he had been posing as a messenger, his dimples flashing in his cheeks, though you did not notice that his eyes continued to remain cold.

“Your Highness,’’ he paused in his speaking,’’ Well, I suppose it’d be more proper to refer to you as a Duchess now. It’s been a while, has it not?’’

“It has,’’ your words stiffened as your mind spun in confusion,’’ been a while. I apologize for impolitely referring to you by your first name. If you are a close acquaintance with my husband, then you must be…’’

Your voice trailed off as you looked at him in an unsure manner. Namjoon chuckled at your attempt to mask your apparent uncertainty. The icy coldness in his eyes had melted somewhat.

“I’m of the House of Kim. We are on the same level when it comes to status, so you don’t have to act so…stiff around me, and I will take the opportunity to do the same as well. Last time I met you, you were much more carefree than the you of now, Duchess Min.’’

“I suppose you are correct with that, Duke Kim. It’s rather shameful to think of the way I greeted you back then, but that shame seems to dissipate when I recall the way you had taken on the identity of a servant, Duke Kim.’’ You dropped the stiff façade you had put on yourself, and your tone was light instead of accusatory. Your shoulders, which had been squared in an uncomfortably rigid posture, relaxed a little bit, and you couldn’t help the genuine smile that bloomed across your lips. “Now, what event brings you to a meeting with me? I believe you would rather meet with the Duke instead.’’

Namjoon paused, as if he was thinking of an answer. Whatever answer rang through his head must’ve been amusing, with the way his noble features had tilted up in a slightly playful expression. 

“The Duke is not someone who throws a birthday banquet, or any banquet really. The typical complaint of the people on the territory is that there is little festivity outside of the annual week that celebrates the Kingdom’s establishment. A bit dreary, isn’t it, though I hope you take no offense at my comment.’’ Namjoon’s tone was almost teasing, and you curved your lips up lightly to show that you didn’t. “I owe the Duke a favor, and since the Duke rarely uses a favor, I believe doing something for you would equate the same as paying back the favor. And besides, helping you prepare for the birthday banquet would be the same as helping Yoongi.’’

You paused as you thought over your response. True, it would be very helpful to have a more experienced noble assist you in preparing for your first banquet—it was even more pressuring to hear that the Duke of Min rarely held a banquet, too, as the expectation for the first banquet was always much higher than the ones after and would also prove your abilities as the Duchess. But you worried about the rumors that would emerge if you were too close with Duke Kim. After all, the society you lived in was flawed in this sense of thinking. 

“If you’re worried about any rumors emerging, don’t worry. You are not only the princess of this kingdom but a married woman, and I am but your husband’s friend. Any rumors that come will be easily taken out by the combined powers of both your husband’s House and the royal family.’’

He was correct with that. You made a decision right then and gingerly extended a hand out, your lips carefully curving into the poised smile that you had spent days practicing with your tutor.

“Well then, I will look forward to your assistance, Duke Kim.’’

Namjoon’s charming smile sobered into a more reserved and serious expression as he clasped your delicate hand in his own. You could feel the calluses of his hand, which was different from what you had expected a nobleman’s hands to be like. His touch was cold, too, the kind of cold that seemed less human and more marble. You faintly remembered that Yoongi’s hands were like that too, and your cheeks lightly flushed at the rather intimate memory that unfolded at that thought before you could force yourself back to earth.

Namjoon leaned down slightly as he raised your hand up, his lips brushing against your knuckles. Though this was a common gesture exchanged between those of the nobility, you couldn’t help but feel a little embarrassed. You wanted to pull your hand away, a strange paranoia in your throat that someone else would witness this and view polite courtesy with slanderous eyes, but you forced yourself to keep your hand steady.

You, still caught up in your own thoughts, did not witness the way Namjoon’s lips twisted into a teasing smirk as his eyes flitted to the window and made eye contact with the beady eyes of the crow perched outside of the window. The bird, having been caught, fluttered its feathers in agitation and let out a strangled caw. Then, it stretched out its inky wings, each hollow bone crackling slightly, and flapped away.

Namjoon straightened his back, gently letting go of your hand. You hurriedly allowed your hand to fall back at your side.

“How amusing…,’’ he murmured faintly, his voice barely above a whisper. You blinked rapidly; you were unable to catch the words he had spoken.

“I apologize, but what did you say? I couldn’t hear what you had said just now,’’ you questioned.

Namjoon was about to open his mouth to brush off his comment when the door of the receiving room slammed open with such force that Namjoon would’ve been surprised if there wasn’t a crack in the frame. You spun around to look at who was there, and your mouth dropped slightly open when you saw the Duke standing there.

“Yoongi, what are you—,’’ you tried to speak, but your words were cut off as the Duke marched up to you and grabbed your elbow, pulling you behind him protectively. You tried to take a look at Duke Kim, but the Duke only moved to shield your view.

“If you have any words to say to my wife, you can also speak them in front of me. If you were to come by, it would’ve been more proper to inform me before your arrival,’’ the Duke’s words were like ice. You could feel yourself shiver. You, who had become accustomed to the softer and more gentle tone the Duke had taken with you, had never heard the Duke speak like that before, with such bite and barely restrained anger.

Perhaps the Duke could sense the way you had tensed. The imposing aura around him softened a bit, but he still remained firmly in between Duke Kim and you.

Namjoon smiled good-naturedly, raising his hands to show that he didn’t mean any harm. He had never seen Yoongi so hostile before, not even when he had been on the front of the battlefield soaked in blood. Even when he had the king of an opposing kingdom on his knees, begging and wailing in front of him, Yoongi hadn’t even flinched before he had executed the miserable coward. But now, Yoongi could barely contain the aggression in his eyes as he stared down his closest friend.

Namjoon couldn’t help the desire to just mess around with his friend. After all, it was rare to see Yoongi out of control; Namjoon’s nature, having lived for quite some time, leaned towards anything he found interesting and easy to control. He had never viewed Yoongi as easy to control, not with the power that seemed to overbearingly seep from every pore of the man, but this situation… Namjoon could barely conceal the sheer expression of glee at the thought of what he was about to do. His eyes, which he usually concealed as a dark brown, flickered with a hint of crimson, a shade that strikingly matched Yoongi’s typical eye color.

He stepped closer to the Duke, settling a hand on Yoongi’s shoulder and leaning close to Yoongi’s ear. His voice was barely above a whisper, but Yoongi’s acute senses easily picked it up. You, however, could only look on in confusion.

“Your wife…I can see why you’re so infatuated with her. I hope I can learn more about her.”  

If it weren’t for the years of friendship between the two, Yoongi would have not had any qualms with killing Namjoon on the spot. Yoongi’s pupils dilated, the color of his eyes bleeding brightly, and his hands curled into fists, his blunt nails leaving bloody crescent marks imprinted in his flesh. Namjoon nodded politely to you as he walked past the Duke, his playful eyes meeting your confused eyes. The soft click of the door shutting ascertained his departure.

“My Lord,’’ your voice was soft as you carefully crept towards the Duke. There was no response. You tentatively called out: “Yoongi?’’

Your call of his name seemed to snap him out of his bloodthirst as he quickly turned around and grabbed onto your wrist, pulling you towards him until your body was firmly pressed against his. You gasped as he cradled the back of your head, his hands twisting in your locks of hair, and kissed you. It felt like he was devouring you; in that moment, each breath you had was also his. His lips moved almost brutally against yours, and you felt a whine emerge from your throat as he harshly nipped your soft bottom lip with his teeth. Your lips barely had time to part slightly before his tongue was in your mouth, exploring each crevice. You could only hold onto him, fists curled weakly in his white dress shirt and your mind dizzy from a combined mix of lack of oxygen and heated frenzy.

His hands were about to push down the sleeves of your dress and expose your heated skin to the cold air when a sharp knock on the door interrupted him. He seemed to pay no heed to it, his lips still bruising against yours, but you managed to finally pull a bit away from him. The string of saliva that showed the previous heated connection of your mouths caused you to frantically turn your head away in shame to break it. You sucked in a large swallow of cold air. Your knees were soft, your bones barely unable to hold you up; you were about to tumble down when he caught you and swept you up in his arms. Despite the murderous aura that was pouring out of him, he gently let you down onto the sofa in the room, and you watched with hazy eyes as he stormed out of the room.

That night, as you nuzzled your face into the silk pillows of the bed and slept soundly, the servant who was unfortunate enough to have been sent to interrupt the Duke’s time with his rumored beloved wife would meet his end. After that, no one would ever dare to come near any rooms with closed doors in fear that they would meet their hopeless demise at the end of the Duke’s famous blade.

After weeks of you busily preparing for the celebration alongside numerous lessons, the day of the long-awaited birthday banquet finally arrived. Each important noble was to show up, less they be ridiculed by the rest of their peerage, including those from your previous family. Though you had initially did not want to invite them, your logic won over your heart, and the king and the crown princess were to come to the ball too. Ah, you could feel a headache coming on at the very thought.

Little did you know, you would come to regret this choice later that evening.

But now, in this very moment, you were too busy ensuring that everything was perfect. The hall where the banquet would be held hadn’t been used in what looked to be years, a surprise considering how well-maintained most of the places you frequented in the manor were, and you had the servant staff wipe down every single corner of the hall until it gleamed. Marble and silver, now shining gorgeously in the bright chandelier light, were decorated with luxurious drapes made out of rich crimson cloth and gorgeous arrangements of blooming white and red flowers.

By the time the evening had arrived, the hall was already filled with much of the nobility and a few commoners who were wealthy. The Duke was to escort you in, and you had to admit that he looked even more handsome dressed up. His hair was carefully slicked back, showing off his stern marble-carved features. He extended his hand out for you to take, and you lightly placed your hand into his grasp. He pulled you a bit closer to him, his movement soft so you wouldn’t trip, and you heard his voice, low and a bit rougher than usual, by your ear.

“You look…,’’ he swallowed before he continued speaking,’’ beautiful tonight.’’

You could only look at him, dumbfounded, as heat rushed to your cheeks and a silly euphoria settled buzzingly in your veins. His words were clumsy, a rare occurrence for the man who always remained coolly composed. You smiled widely, and he averted his gaze, though you noticed his ears were tinted a slight red. Then, the doors were opened, and the both of you stepped out into the stairs at the very front of the hall.

“The Duke and Duchess of the House of Min has entered.’’ The steward called out, his voice echoing in the hall.

A hush covered the hall as everyone’s eyes flitted to where you stood by the side of your husband. You heard a soft murmur rise up as their eyes fell on you.

You had paid careful attention to the arrangements of the hall and dressed in a manner that fit it. The seamstress that the Duke had sent you had been the most highly sought in the kingdom, perhaps even of the neighboring kingdom, and her talent resonated in the gown you were adorned in. Billowing layers of deep red, accentuated by bits of sparkling diamonds and pearls and sparkling silver embroidery, swathed your waist, and the sleeves, made out of a transparent material, delicately puffed out around your arms. The placement of the neckline of the dress carefully concealed the mark by your collarbone. With your shoulders set back in a poised posture, you looked much different from the nervous and trembling girl who had gotten married a few months ago. There was no doubt that you were anything but gorgeous, perhaps, though many didn’t dare to say it aloud, even more gorgeous than the crown princess.      

The hold of the Duke on you seemed to tighten even more on you as he opened his mouth to greet the guests, his tone frigid compared to the warm smile you carefully had on. His words were short, almost dismissive in a way, and the moment they ended, the music from the orchestra resumed to brighten up the cold atmosphere.

He carefully helped you down the stairs, ensuring that your heels would delicately sink into the plush carpet instead of slip and send you into an embarrassing, sprawling tumble. You couldn’t help the way your lips grew even bigger into a smile at the gentle way he led you; truly, though he didn’t show his love often outside of the animalistic way he held you in the bedroom, he was sweet to you. By the time your feet hit the floor with a soft clack, the two of you were crowded by many nobles.

They all clamored to get the Duke’s attention, trying to take advantage of the first proper event the House of Min was hosting. The Duke coldly looked at them, and many of them darted away, leaving a select amount of nobles in front of the two of you. When one noble was done talking, he would leave, and another would dart to take his place. You were to smile and nod lightly whenever they were to mention you in a compliment in an attempt to warm the Duke up towards their offers.

After a bit of time, your feet began to ache in the heeled shoes that you had forced them in, and the sides of the shoes viciously dug into the tender flesh of your feet. You tried to shift your weight, but the pain refused to settle. You decided that you were going to fetch a servant to bring you a comfier pair of shoes and rest a bit in the ladies’ powder room.

“My husband,’’ you leaned in close to his ear, keeping your voice low. “My feet are aching. I’m going to the powder room to rest for a little while.’’

He nodded, but as you were about to slightly wobble away, he clasped your hand and, in front of the other nobles, pressed a soft kiss on the back of your hand. You could hear an audible gasp and the rising volume of chatter in the hall as people witnessed the rare sight of affection. The Duke, who many viewed through fearful eyes, was looking at you so gently. Now, it didn’t seem so impossible for the rumor of him being infatuated with you to be true.

“Come back soon, my wife. I will be waiting for you,’’ he spoke into your skin, his lips tickling you a bit. You fondly smiled at him, feeling much like a maiden, as he let go of your hand before leaving to send a servant for better shoes and continuing your way to the powder room.

You settled into the seat in the powder room with a soft exhale, closing your eyes briefly. Finally, you could relieve your poor feet from the aches and pinches of your previous heeled shoes. You heard the door open, and your eyes opened to see who it was.

It was the crown princess.

She was as beautiful as ever, with gleaming strands of hair rolled up in a curling updo and a gown that did little to hide the delicate curves of her body. She wasn’t alone, though; she was accompanied by her usual entourage of three unmarried girls from other high-ranking aristocratic families.

“Must be rather lovely to be able to express such affection with your husband,’’ the crown princess spoke. Unlike the angelic disposition that she exuded when she kept her mouth shut, her tone was venomous, and her words were like hidden blades. You recalled the gossip you had overheard when you had been living in the palace. The crown princess was obsessed with the Duke, your husband, and had wanted to marry him. This was hidden from outside of the palace, but maids liked to talk. She would often go to the manor he had near the palace, but he would refuse on seeing her every time.

In fact, though you did not know this, the King had been planning to marry her to the Duke to strengthen the ties to the House of Min, but the Duke had insisted on marrying you.

You barely could keep back the sigh of exhaustion that threatened to escape your lips. God, having your feet dwell in agony would have been much more preferable than having a conversation with such a… You refrained from continuing your thoughts, not wanting to dirty yourself by using such vulgar language.

“Your Highness, would it not be proper to greet me first before continuing onto a different topic?’’ your lips strained in the forced polite smile you had on.

One girl stepped forward, her face pinched in anger.

“You! How dare you speak to Her Highness like that!’’

“You must be from the Count Park family, correct? To speak so disrespectfully to someone of a higher rank… The etiquette teachers must be rather lenient on their lessons.’’ You could feel the start of a headache throb in your skull. “And, have you forgotten? I am also of the same status as Her Highness as her sister, and I have married into a family that does not take disrespect lightly.’’

The girl flinched before stepping back. She refused to relax the aggressive expression she had on. The crown princess’s demure smile stiffened a bit.

“Yes, my younger sister. We are related,’’ the crown princess stepped closer to you. You kept yourself steady as she halted in front of you and placed a delicate hand on your shoulder. “And as your older sister, I want to provide some helpful advice to you.’’

To the outside, she seemed like she was the perfect caring older sister. But you knew better. This was the same girl who had taken the main part in looking down on you with her mother, the queen, when you were younger at the palace. She hid the darker, more vicious parts of her under a beautiful mask.

“I am grateful for your care of me, sister. Since we are so close, and you didn’t bother using formalities in the first place, you must not mind me talking to you casually then.’’ You watched her with careful eyes, waiting for her to strike.

“Not at all. In fact, I was hoping that we would drop the formalities between the two of us. I am quite worried about the relationship the Duke has with you. You are so innocent, sister, that you are not aware of the way men work. They treat you so well in front of you that you convince yourself that they’re in love with you, but behind you, they commit vulgar acts.’’

“That is a rather unpleasant way to view the world, is it not? Besides, the Duke, my husband, is not the typical man, though you must already be quite aware of that with the way you used to cling onto him, hmm?’’

Her eyes flashed menacingly, and the smile on the crown princess’s face grew, warping an angel’s mask into the face of a demon. The fingers of the hand she had placed on your shoulder tightened its grip, her nails lightly digging into your skin.

“Oh, you are innocent. The Duke is like any other man. Do you ever wonder why the garden in the back of the manor on the territory is so well taken care of? Do you know why he chose to marry you, a forgotten princess with half of the blood from a low wench?’’ Her fingernails were drawing blood, but you couldn’t focus on the pain, not with the way your eyes couldn’t leave from her sadistic face. “You were fortunate enough to look similar to his first lover. No one knows anything about her other than her death, but she’s the reason why anyone who dares to even bruise a flower from the garden is immediately killed. She’s the reason why he even chose to marry you.”

She stood back; you could barely feel the prickling pain of the bloody fingernail marks in your skin. Your throat closed up, and the noble bravery you had feigned earlier seemed to mock you now.  

“Father told me that the Duke, after seeing a picture of your face, wanted to marry you. Why? You know the Duke is not foolish enough to believe in love at first sight. The Duke has never cared for anyone in his life, yet he carries a painting of his first lover with him everywhere. Why would he marry you? You must’ve asked yourself this, too. The whole kingdom has! You should be smart enough to figure out the real reason why. You can check for yourself, but you know my words are true.’’

You couldn’t say anything as she whirled around on her heels and stepped out. You hated the pity you could feel from her entourage. Even the girl who had shouted at you earlier had a glimpse of pity in her eyes, mixed in with a mocking glee, as she left. Did they pity you for being attacked by the princess? Or did they pity you because they agreed with her?

You wanted to shrug off the words of the crown princess. She was jealous. Jealous that you, her younger less blessed sister, got the man she wanted. But some part of your gut told you that there was a ring of truth to her words. You remembered the odd looks the staff had given you when you had attempted to go to the garden.

Your own thoughts seemed to choke you. Was she right? Was she wrong? Could you fool yourself into thinking she was wrong? You could feel the agony of your heart well up and splinter into small fragments of glass.

You wanted to run away.

But you couldn’t.

Somehow, you managed to get yourself together. At one point, you realized that you were spending too much time in the powder room. It would be suspicious, wouldn’t it? You couldn’t bring yourself to return back to the Duke’s side. Besides, he was talking to the king now. It’d feel awkward to face the King after having such an unpleasant conversation with his daughter.

You leaned against the wall, watching the orchestra play and people dance on the floor, twirling layers of sparkling colored dresses and sleek muted colors of suits. Your throat felt dry, and a nausea churned in your stomach.

“Duchess Min, it’s an odd sight seeing you so solemn.’’

You looked up, your eyes widening. Namjoon was standing in front of you, dressed up in an elegant suit. He smiled at you, flashing two dimples. His eyes were warm. Your cheeks flushed slightly from embarrassment as you remembered the last time you had seen him. You had been checking the materials delivered for the banquet with Namjoon when you had stumbled over a box. You had braced yourself for the impact of the hard floor, but you ended up falling on top of something much softer than the floor. To your profound shame, you had fallen on Namjoon, who had thrown himself down onto the floor to avoid you from hitting it. You had profusely apologized once you had gotten up, but he had brushed it off. Thus, you had decided to brush off the memory as well but seeing Namjoon again made you feel extremely embarrassed.

“Nam— I mean Duke Kim. I didn’t see you earlier.”

“Well, I don’t really enjoy coming to these events, but you did spend a lot of time working on it, and I wanted to see the results of your efforts. You can rest easy knowing that your first banquet looks a lot better than the tenth banquet for many families.”

You couldn’t stop the smile that grew on your face. The sickening mixture of nausea and numbness seemed to fade away and settle itself back into the marrow of your bones. If you simply erased the incident in which you had embarrassed yourself by falling upon him, the both of you had developed a more than suitable connection over the time you spent working together. Though the two of you were often surrounded by servants and Jungkook, the quick wit of Namjoon shown through each time you spent with each other.

After all, few men could get into the good graces of your husband. You, although a bit more wary after the troubling incidents you had encountered with your old tutor, found yourself falling into the pace of friendship with Namjoon.

“Thank you, but, Duke Kim, you do know that I could not have pulled this off without your help. The Hall only looks this splendid because the quality of your products is of the finest in the kingdom.’’ Many nobility often used compliments for their own advantage, but in this case, your praise was genuine.

“Then, as a way to thank me, may I ask for this dance?’’ Namjoon charmingly smiled. You noticed that the previous music had stopped playing, allowing time for people to switch their partners. Namjoon extended a hand, bowing graciously. You let out a light laugh at the mischievous sheen in his eyes and reached out your own hand, about to clasp his in yours when…

“My wife, I need to speak with you alone.’’

Your hand hovered in the air as you turned your head to look at the voice; your eyes widened in surprise at the sight of the Duke in front of you. He looked terrifying, even more so than the time he had burst into the receiving room when you had first met Namjoon as Duke Kim. His eyes gleamed a fierce red, and his expression looked murderous, the aura around him seeming to cool the air. The music barely managed to warm the chills rising upon the skin of everyone in the hall.

You could barely hear the faint noise of strings dragging themselves out into a sweet melody. No one else seemed to either with the way everyone’s eyes fell upon the three of you.

Was he angry because he didn’t want you to ruin the reputation of the House by getting close to another man? Did he view you as, what the commoners would often refer to, as a wench? You felt hurt at the thought.

Before you could choke out a flustered and indignant response and possibly shatter the noble image of a duchess in the process, the Duke had already pulled you to him with a swift movement that left you clumsily crashing into his chest. Then, he all but dragged you out of the Hall.

Namjoon could only watch as the Duke disappeared with you, no look of amusement painted on his elegant features. Before, he might’ve grinned devilishly at the sight, but now, his chest seemed to twist and pull, an irony considering his true status.

Near Namjoon, standing next to the crown princess who kept gently smiling but had a look in her eyes like she wanted to tear off your face with her pretty nails, the King rejoiced in this new outcome. He was well aware of the nobility’s muttering of taking the king off the throne; with the rumor and proof of the fearsome Duke being infatuated with the royal 8th princess, the muttering of rebellion would die down. Though the King trembled like a coward in front of the Duke, what laid inside his heart was one of a selfish bastard.

When the Duke finally left, carrying the frigid tension with him, the whole room seemed to sigh in relief. But for the three who stood above the crowd, two were filled with envy and one was filled with greed.

You didn’t know where Yoongi was leading you. He had grasped your wrist in his own icy cold grip, and although his pace was unrelenting, he made sure that he wasn’t walking too fast in case you would slip. You didn’t know why Yoongi…the Duke had reacted that way.

If it were the you of the past who frequently indulged in sappy romantic novels in which a brooding male lead fell in love with a witty heroine, you would’ve been caught in a delusion that he was jealous. But the you of the present had lessons that left you stiff and every rule of etiquette and propriety drilled into your brain. The you of now was aware that the intimate nights in which you could fool yourself into believing the Duke loved you was nothing more than a fallacy. The you of now was aware of the truth. Though the crown princess wanted to hurt you and she was many despicable things, you, having grown up with her for part of your lonely childhood, knew that she wasn’t a liar. You fought the bitterness that threatened to envelope your heart.

You broke out of your thoughts just as the Duke had opened the door to your shared bedroom. He had suddenly halted, and you nearly clumsily crashed into his broad back.

“What are you doing, my Lord?’’ you managed to say,’’ The banquet in your honor is still ongoing. We can’t leave our guests like—.’’

You stopped speaking, your words caught in your throat, as Yoongi whirled around. You were taken aback by the look in his eyes. He looked almost feral in this moment, his eyes darkened in a tumultuous mix of emotions that only caused shivers to tremble fiercely down your spine.

“I need to…,’’ he closed his eyes, as if he could calm himself down, but when he had opened his eyes, the emotions in his eyes seemed to be even more heightened.

He suddenly pulled down the front of your gown—you had shouted in alarm, an expression of shame painted over your face as beads and pearls popped off the delicate fabric and hit the floor—and pressed a gentle kiss against the mark on your clavicle. His lips, a rosy pink, were a breathtaking contrast against the distinct red of the mark.

“Duke!’’ you had exclaimed, trying to push him away. “Although we may be husband and wife, you can not behave in such an…outlandish way, not when the banquet is still occurring!’’

His lips had curled up in a small smile, an expression so different from his regular brooding, stoic look that it would’ve left his aids in mute shock at the sight. You could feel the movement of his lips against your skin. He didn’t make any further moment, and you had believed him to be more tame. Perhaps he had regained his senses as a refined nobleman.

Or…perhaps not.

“It is typical here to grant a wish for one’s birthday, is it not?’’ he softly spoke, his lips ticklish against your soft flesh,’’ And I wish to have you.’’

He tilted his head back slightly to look up at you with red eyes shadowed by ink-black eyelashes. The expression in his eyes… You couldn’t put your finger on why they looked so loving but so vulnerable. He was different from the first time you had met him. He was even different from the second time you had met him at your wedding. Why did he look at you this way? Why had he chosen you?

You could only continue to desperately ask yourself this in your heart, but you knew the answer. Your old tutor knew the answer. The crown princess knew the answer. Hell, didn’t everyone know the answer? How foolish and lovesick you were, (Y/n)! But you did not mind the temporary illusion of being his only one love if he could hold you like that was true.

A loud yelp left your lips at the sudden pain in your clavicle, tears filling your eyes. He had bitten you! When you had been distracted with your thoughts, he had slyly dug his teeth into your mark.

“Don’t be distracted by anyone else when you’re with me,’’ his voice was raspy at the edges, almost unhinged in a strange way. “Don’t think of anything else but me.’’

The pain faded into a faint tingle, and you laughed breezily as you looped your arms around the back of his neck. You were the only one he was holding. You were the only one he loved right now; that was right.

“I’ll only think of you. I suppose it is tradition to grant one wish, Yoongi.”

Every restraint Yoongi had been holding back seemed to snap then as he devoured you with his lips. You were faintly reminded of the way he had kissed you in the receiving room after Namjoon had left, how he had seemed to want to imprint the mark of his lips onto yours. You were caught up in the vicious heat of his own touch as his tongue probed deeper into your mouth that you didn’t notice his hand slipping up to your evening dress. He practically ripped off your dress, his strength tearing through layers of silk and sending another shower of tiny sparkling beads to the ground, and you could only make a sound of discontent against his lips as the cold air nipped your flushed skin.

You took a step back to take in a breath, but he matched each of your steps, his lips still firmly against yours. The back of your legs knocked against the bed, and you ungracefully fell onto the bed. The breath spun out of your lungs, and you were vaguely reminded of the time the Duke had taken your purity on the same very bed. You inelegantly climbed back further onto the bed, your palms sinking into the bedding. Yoongi pulled away, and barely a moment later, you felt his hands tie a strip of silk fabric around your eyes.

“Yoongi, what are you—?’’ you sputtered slightly as your sight was suddenly taken away. Your voice was cut off in a haggard breath as you felt his hand slip down your delicate flesh to where your most vulnerable place was. You felt the tips of his fingers against your already soaked folds, and you heard a soft groan from Yoongi.

“You make me want to sin,’’ Yoongi’s voice sounded farther away as he moved down. You fumbled around a bit, trying to figure out where Yoongi had gone, before you realized that he had settled down further down your legs. Your mouth opened to speak, but a moan stretched out of your throat out as his lips closed around your throbbing clit and lightly sucked on it.

“You taste so fucking good.’’ You heard him say, and your cheeks flushed from embarrassment, before your mind went blank from pleasure. He licked your clit in short flicks that left your toes curled before flattening his tongue against your pussy, pressing your soft thighs deeper into the bed as his tongue probed even deeper into your sensitive walls. You could only rasp out whiny sighs, calls of his name that garbled into incoherent squeals, as every nerve in your body trembled. Your senses seemed to be even more heightened by your lack of sight, and you could feel every slight movement of his tongue deep within you.

Your legs unconsciously curled tighter around his head, and before you could collect your thoughts, you were pressing his face even deeper into you. You could hear the soft schlick sounds and the slurping of your essence faintly underneath your wanton cries. You didn’t care about your propriety, not with how good you felt. Your hips raised slightly as you felt yourself tip further near your release, and then you were spiraling and crashing into your climax, your mouth straining open in a loud pitched keen.

When you finally settled down, you felt the lips of the Duke meet yours for a heated kiss. You could taste the mix of your own juices and his saliva, and you sighed lightly into his mouth.

Your breathing was uneven by the time he broke away to let you breathe, and your mind buzzed from the aftermath of your orgasm. You should’ve built up stamina from the many nights you had already spent with the Duke, but the blindfold seemed to rob you of it, leaving you practically limp already.

“Onto your hands and knees,’’ you heard the Duke say. You whined in protest, but your body automatically began to rise up and blindly fall onto your hands and knees despite your mind not wanting to. You felt something hot press against the slicked folds of your pussy, and you barely could open your mouth to protest. You just came; you were too sensitive. These words were lost, replaced with a soft sigh of pleasure, as you felt the stretch of your walls around Yoongi’s cock. The press of Yoongi into you caused your cum and juices to leak out of your sensitive pussy and run down your inner thighs.

“You’re so fucking tight, squeezing around me like this,’’ Yoongi rasped into your ear,’’ You just came, and you’re still ready for more? You’re a whore underneath that perfection.’’

You barely were allowed to adjust to the intrusion before he pulled out and slammed back in so hard that your arms that were holding you up wobbled. Another rough piston of his hips against your ass sent your sprawling onto the bed, your mouth opening in lewd cries and practically drooling. You couldn’t make one single thought beyond the spine-tingling pleasure you received from having him so deep within you and the graze of his calloused palms against your soft breasts. The mix of the gentle feeling of his fingertips twisting your hard nipples and the rough feeling of being fucked so hard made your mind spin.

Yoongi, Yoongi, Yoongi. Those are the only words you could say, and it’s his name you cried out the loudest when his next thrust caused his cock to bump against your womb. You came a little at the feeling, toes curling in tightly and your hands practically scratching at the sheets. And then you’re climbing again, about to crumble into another orgasm that’d steal the breath out of your lungs and make you forget about the ache of your body and heart. Before you could, Yoongi pulled out, his breath ragged, and you didn’t know what he was going to do, yearning helplessly for him to just thrust in and spill his seed into your trembling womb.

You let out a sharp cry of surprise when he tenderly pushed you onto your back and suddenly picked you up, and you grabbed onto his shoulders, feeling his muscles tighten and flex underneath his soft skin. You didn’t know where he was taking you until you felt something cold against your back. Glass? There was no glass on the walls in the bedroom except for the…window.

“Yoongi, if there are any guests out there who see us—,’’ your next words were cut off by him driving his cock back deep into you, crushing your breath and your next words. He set an unforgiving pace, his hips crashing against yours, and you whimpered and moaned so loud that you could barely hear the raspy groans being dragged out of Yoongi’s throat. You were reaching your high again, and you forgot the fear of being seen by any banquet guests.

You could tell Yoongi was reaching his high too, with the way he throbbed and stretched and hit you just right. You felt his hot breath spill against your sensitive skin.

“I’m going to cum in you, my wife. You’re going to have our child.’’ The Duke’s grip tightened around your hips, and you knew his touch was going to leave marks on your skin.

You let out a choked sob in response, urging him to pound you even further.

“Please, please, Yoongi, please,’’ you sputtered, your mouth dry as you beg for his touch. You were so close, just nearly there.

You wanted to cum so badly, wanted to feel Yoongi even deeper in you, and you wrapped your arms around Yoongi’s neck, letting out an alarmed squeal, as your back slipped slightly on the glass and sent you further down Yoongi’s cock, impaling you. That movement seemed to be both the undoing of you and Yoongi.

Your legs locked around his waist, and you could feel tears leak out of your eyes and roll down your cheeks as you cum hard. Your head slammed into the glass, and your tongue lolled out of your mouth as your walls squeezed and fluttered around his cock. Yoongi groaned, his cock throbbing in you, and you felt his teeth tear into the skin of your neck as he reached his own orgasm. You let out a sound that was a mix of a moan and a sob as you felt him cum deep into your womb.

In that moment, you hoped new life would come forth. With a child, perhaps you wouldn’t feel so empty from thinking about Yoongi’s infatuation with his first love.

He rocked lightly, still buried deep within you, as if he heard your thoughts and wanted to seal his sperm deep within your fertile womb. You were too tired to do anything else as he slipped the blindfold off around your head and sent for servants to get the both of you cleaned. You, right then, were content with pretending that you were the only Yoongi loves.

And with the faint sound of music pulled out of strings humming through the manor and the warmth of a hot towel carefully cleaning you, you fell into an unsettled sleep.

Snow finally made way for the brightness of spring. The pure white of the landscape melted away into cold puddles of water and made way for grass, the vibrant color of emerald, to take a breath and peek into the sun. Specks of color bloomed in the form of tiny flowers, and you, who seemed to grow colder despite the warming of the seasons, were reminded of the garden in the back of the manor.

You were wilting; you could feel it. With nights plagued with dreams that let you bitterly numb in the morning and a head that seemed to throb at the slightest change of weather, it was unfortunate but not unexpected that the beginning of spring came with the beginning of your cold.

It was nothing major, but it left you stuck in bed, bleary eyes clinging to the drops of condensation rolling down the large glass windows of the bedroom. There was little for you to do, most of your work having been taken over by some of the Duke’s aids, and so you were stuck pondering over who you meant to the Duke. Due to your illness, you were kept in a separate room from the bedroom you shared with the Duke, and thus the seeds of the negative feelings you had been hiding in your heart began to sprout.

Many would’ve viewed this rest as a blessing but having time to get lost in your own thoughts to you was a curse.

You felt pathetic. The you who had freely run through the streets, the you who had wistfully sighed over romance novels, the you who had been so naïve would never have been this pathetic. Namjoon had visited you one day when you had started to finally recover from your ailment. You had remembered the shock that you had felt when you had opened the door to the balcony, wanting fresh air without a servant around, and taken a step out only to see Namjoon standing on the balcony.

“Namjoon, how did you get in here?’’ you asked. He smiled mysteriously at you but did not reply to your question, his eyes softening at the sight of you. You recalled the way you looked, so weak; your hair had been in a mess from having laid in bed all day, your cheeks had gotten sickly thin from your cold, and you were scandalously clad in your nightgown. You tightened the shawl you had thrown around your shoulders further around you.

“You don’t seem that well. I heard you were recovering, but I wanted to check in on you with my own two eyes.”

You sighed, trying to look disappointed in him, but the perk of your lip was not something that could be easily hidden from his sharp eyes.

“Well, aren’t you a good friend? But this isn’t proper.’’ You hushed your voice, taking a step back just in case any servants passing below happened to glance up at your balcony. “Does my Lord know you are here?”

“If Yoongi knew I was here, do you think he would’ve allowed me to get so close to you?’’ Namjoon’s smile turned a little bitter, though you did not know why. You nodded mutely, unconsciously pulling the shawl even tighter around you.

“This meeting isn’t proper either. My Lord must be afraid that I will make a fool out of the House of Min if I am not proper,’’ you spoke, your words hollow in your throat. You didn’t know why, but tears began to build up in your eyes and one drop slipped out, rolling down your cheek.

Namjoon’s eyes narrowed slightly in concern, and he took a step closer to you. You took a step back, wiping your eyes frantically with your hands as you fought to keep the tremble out of your shoulders.

“I’m sorry,’’ you inhaled, closing your eyes and using your hands to cover your face as you fought to rein yourself in,’’ My deepest apologies. I can’t…I can’t believe I lost myself like that for a second, in front of my Lord’s closest friend either. Please pretend that you never saw anything.’’

Namjoon’s expression softened; he remembered how strong and carefree you had looked when he had first met you, and now you looked so weakened, both from the cold and the tears you tried to hold back. You were like gold when he had first met you, shining brilliantly, but now you were as fragile as glass. His heart, though he had rarely felt the use of it, began to ache slightly. He reached out, about to touch your head, but he couldn’t. He dropped his hand back towards his side.

“I…,’’ the words Namjoon had never said in his lifetime rose in his throat. He couldn’t seem to stop himself from speaking such human words; Namjoon was not human. He was not kind. But for you, he could be. “What can I do to help you?’’

Your shoulders froze, your palms wet from the droplets of tears. You were desperate now; no sense of propriety made its way to your mind as you reached out and grasped Namjoon’s hand with your own trembling hands. He stiffened at your touch, at how delicate it was.

“Please…,’’ your voice was shakily soft, hoarse from your lack of use and your tears, your head lowered in shame. You were bowing now in front of him, hopelessly unable to meet his gaze. You were so pathetic, (Y/n); you didn’t deserve the title of princess. You didn’t deserve the title of Duchess. Bu your mouth continued to move, rushing words out. “Yoongi…the Duke…This is too much to ask you; I know this is too much to ask of you, Namjoon. I’ll owe you forever. Please, find out who the Duke’s first love, and…’’

You looked up at him, eyes rimmed in red and glossy with tears as you pushed out your last words. “Does he even hold me in his heart?’’

Namjoon’s eyes looked so conflicted then, his smile looking a bit colder on his lips. Even then, you clung onto his hand, shaking and pleading silently. Finally, he grasped your hands with his other hand and gently pushed your touch off of his.

“I will.” The smile he put on next was warm, but it seemed forced, too wide and too happy for what you were asking. “I suppose next time you will owe me a favor, Duchess.’’

You lowered your head back down in shame, and when you finally managed to raise it back up again, Namjoon had been long gone.

You were stuck on the balcony, the spring air, which should’ve been warm, cooling down. The sky faded from a pale blue to a dark gray, clouds rolling in to signify the season’s famous sign of pouring rain, but you could only stand there, frozen, as the wind lifted locks of your hair. When you felt the first droplet of rain against your cheek, rolling down reminiscent of your own tears, you finally broke out of your trance. Pinching the fabric of the shawl to keep it from falling down, you, on shaky limbs, turned around, sliding open the glass door and heading in.

That moment would later turn out to be one of the very few last moments you would ever see Namjoon, your friend, ever again.

And you would later regret ever asking him for the favor.

A/N: As always, if you want to be added to the taglist for part 3, reply with a  👑. I make a new taglist for each part based on the emoji replies, so thank you for understanding and cooperating. If you enjoyed the story, leave a comment or a detailed review below! 

Also, please send any memes/moodboards based on Lineage in! The more there are, the faster I work haha :)

[kar-krashew]

my someplace is here [AO3]

Five times Alec gay panics at a bus stop (ft. umbrellas, jackets, and a bus driver who really isn't paid enough for this).

rated: T

for @rainyhuman and @peachygos (ily!)

This is so cliché and over the top and I have absolutely no regrets <3. Sometimes (always) Alec is a himbo who is in love and his actions reflect this entirely. I don't control these things.

One.

Alec Lightwood doesn’t believe in love at first sight, but the man across the bus stop is absolutely gorgeous, and he’s twirling in the rain like a goddamn movie cliché, and Alec’s first thought is holy shit, so maybe Alec Lightwood is an idiot, and love at first sight is definitely a Thing.

Alec’s second thought is that the man is an absolute maniac— because really, the dude doesn’t even have a coat on— but Alec’s the one with an insane urge to kiss a stranger in the middle of the street, so, whatever; They’re probably both maniacs.

Alec’s third thought is that he’s about to miss his bus. Shit.

—

Two.

For the record, Alec does not usually walk into bus stop poles while staring at his phone, nor does he usually yell out “Ow, shit — !” if the aforementioned event does happen to occur. He does, however, end up doing both of these things at once a week later, and the stifled laughter behind him informs him that someone at the stop has definitely seen him, and he’s never going to live this down, ever.

“I’ve personally found that walking around an obstacle tends to be much more effective, darling,” the someone says, and Alec supposes that was called for, but hey, rude. He looks up to face the speaker, preparing himself to be offended, and—

Oh.

It’s the beautiful stranger from last time.

The man smirks at him from the bench, drenched again, and God, he’s even prettier up close. Brown eyes, smudged eyeliner, water trickling down his neck, with a tunic open down to his navel and pants that look painted on— Alec’s brain is short-circuiting.

“Hit your head a little hard there? Or do you just see something you like?”

“Huh?” Alec glances up from where he’s been staring at the man’s collarbones.

“I asked if you saw something you liked, pretty boy,” the man repeats.

Alec opens his mouth, presumably to say something that would be considered appropriate and normal in this situation, but he somehow misses his own memo and instead stammers out: “I, uh, I have an umbrella.”

He prays the rain will have mercy and just drown him on the spot.

The man’s brow quirks upwards in amusement. “Excuse me?”

Alec, unfortunately, is still alive, so he must now suffer the embarrassment he’s managed to cause himself and find a way to explain whatever has just come out of his mouth. He ducks his head, trying to avoid eye contact as he speaks. “If you want it,” he elaborates, “I have an umbrella I can give you.”

The stranger just looks at him for a moment. Alec’s sure he’s going to be told to fuck off (which would be a perfectly understandable reaction and probably have been his own in this situation) but after another second, the man defies all of his expectations and grins, so wide that it steals a little of Alec’s breath away.

“Handsome and chivalrous, I see. Do you make a habit of offering your belongings to strangers?” the guy asks. “Besides, I’m sure you’ll need it later. Perhaps you should rescind your offer, I promise I won’t harbor any grudges.”

“I have a coat,” Alec insists, “and you’re. . .” —incredibly attractive, doing things to my brain function— “more in need of its services.”

He’s not really sure why he’s so adamant about this, especially since the man is right: he will be needing the umbrella later, but his pride’s involved now, and he hasn’t really been thinking things through for the past ten minutes anyway. He might as well argue about his dumb umbrella with a beautiful man at a bus stop.

“I suppose you’re right,” comes the man’s response. He taps painted nails against his chin as he hums. “I’m not in much of a position to refuse, now, am I? Though, I doubt I’d refuse any position with you involved,” he winks. “But, yes, if you’re being serious, I shall gladly accept your umbrella.”

Alec blinks. He honestly did not think that argument would’ve worked. (He chooses to ignore the blatant innuendo to preserve his sanity for now.)

“Well?” the man prompts.

“Oh! Yeah, sure.” Really, the whole zoning-out-while-staring-at-the-hot-guy thing is going to become a problem very fast if Alec keeps doing it every two minutes. He gathers his thoughts enough to fumble with the umbrella in his hand and give it to the man, who accepts it with a graceful flourish.

“I’m Magnus Bane, by the way,” the man offers. “I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced.”

“I’m Alec. Lightwood. My name’s Alec Lightwood.”

Magnus holds out a ring-covered hand from where he’s sitting. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Alec. Short for Alexander, I presume?”

“Yeah,” Alec nods. He reaches out to shake Magnus’s hand, adding, “but no one really calls me that.”

Magnus’s smile turns into something incredibly flirty, and Alec can feel his cheeks heating up. “I like to be special, Alexander,” the other says, “and it suits you far better.”

Alec’s not really sure how to respond to that, because the way Magnus says his name is doing things to him, and that, combined with the fact that he’s still clutching Magnus’s soft hand in his own, is probably going to give him a heart attack. He’s about to say something decidedly stupid about Magnus already being special and perfect and amazing when the bus saves him from humiliation and pulls up next to them.

Alec releases Magnus’s grip to awkwardly gesture at the vehicle. “I should really. . . you know,” he trails off, and Magnus blinks at him for a second, surprised.

“Oh, right! You should get going, places to be and all that.” He waves his hand through the air dismissively. “I’ll return your umbrella to you next week, same time?”

Alec smiles dopily as he nods. “That sounds great.” He takes a step back. “I’ll see you soon, then?”

“Of course.” Magnus gives him a little wave. “It was lovely to meet you, Alexander. Safe travels.”

“Thanks, uh, you too.”

Having to walk home in the rain is so worth it.

—

Three.

Izzy laughs at Alec for the entire week when she finds out why his umbrella’s been missing, then makes it worse by telling Jace, who gives Alec an incredibly long-winded speech about umbrellas as metaphors for protection during sex or something. He also deigns to throw a condom at Alec’s face when he leaves to get the bus, which sends Izzy into another bout of cackling laughter.

They’re both assholes, and Alec is never going to cover for them at family dinners ever again.

So he’s scrolling through his phone at the bus stop, trying his best to ignore the increasingly obscene texts his siblings are sending him, when Magnus shows up, bright and beaming and decidedly dry this time, though he’s still not wearing a jacket despite the cold.

And dear lord. If Alec thought Magnus looked gorgeous while soaked in rainwater, this is something else entirely. Gold-streaked hair, unbuttoned shirt, immaculate matching eyeshadow— fuck.

“Alexander!” Magnus greets. He sits down beside Alec on the bench, and grins as he hands over Alec’s umbrella. “Finally a little dry, hm? Though I might’ve underestimated the cold and left my coat back home.”

“Yeah,” Alec says. “Not that you were wearing one when it was raining.” He’s trying his best not to stare at Magnus’s mouth, but the man is very close to Alec’s face right now, and he cannot be blamed if his gaze slips a few times, okay? He’s only human.

Magnus shrugs, drawing Alec’s sight to his shoulders instead. “Coats are irrelevant, anyway. I haven’t worn mine all week, so I might as well continue the trend,” he remarks, and Alec snorts.

“I don’t think that’s as impressive as you think it is. You sound like a petulant toddler. How have you not had, like, five colds by now?” he says. Magnus feigns a pout in response, and Alec stifles a laugh.

“Such cruelty, Alexander!” Magnus replies, “Ah, I suppose I’ll just have to suffer the elements until I’m finally back home again, since no one seems to harbor any sympathy for me. Woe is me, and all that.” He tightens his hands around his biceps, rubbing up and down to warm himself up while sighing dramatically, and Alec, well,

Alec gets a really stupid idea.

“Do you want my jacket?” he asks. “I won’t be out in the cold for that long, and I’m wearing a much warmer shirt than you are.”

Magnus’s lips part in surprise as something conflicted flashes behind his eyes. “I—” he starts, then clears his throat. “I wasn’t being serious, darling. That’s your jacket.”

“Is that a no?”

There’s a moment of silence before Magnus shakes his head. “No, it’s not. I, uh, I’d love that.”

Alec beams, and Magnus clears his throat again. “You’re horribly trusting of someone you’ve only met twice,” he says, voice a little strangled, but Alec just shrugs as he begins to wrestle the black fabric off of his shoulders.

“It’s just a jacket,” he explains, leaning closer to drape it over Magnus, “Even if I never got it back, at least you wouldn’t freeze to death on your way to wherever you’re headed.” He fixes the lapels dutifully, and smiles to himself. “Besides, you’ve already given me my umbrella. I trust you.”

“Is that so,” Magnus answers weakly, which prompts Alec to look up from his fiddling, and oh wow, their mouths are so close to each other’s.

If Magnus inches in just a little bit closer, then they’d—

They’d—

“Um!” Alec jerks backwards, face flushing, “Yes, uh,” he stammers, trying not to look overwhelmed. It’s not going great, because moving back means that he’s now being treated to the sight of Magnus in Alec’s jacket, and he’s having some issues thinking properly right now. It swallows Magnus’s wrists almost entirely and looks far too plain for his expensive printed shirt, but fuck. It’s possible that Alec didn’t think this through.

Magnus opens his mouth, hopefully to tell Alec to kiss him but also probably to tell him to fuck completely off for whatever move they almost pulled, but the bus suddenly turns the corner and pulls into view, cutting him off.

Alec’s not sure whether he’s relieved or furious about this.

“Next week, then,” he ventures. Magnus blinks at him slowly, then nods.

“Yes, of course,” he smiles softly. “Next week.”

—

Four.

“Remind me again, why your presence is necessary today?” Alec grits through his teeth, tightly gripping his umbrella as the rain pours down on them. Izzy punches his arm, not even looking up from her phone as she does so, where she is no doubt giving Jace a play-by-play of Alec’s every action as they walk towards the bus stop.

“Because I’m never one to miss out on good blackmail content,” she replies, which is true. She’s got about four folder’s worth of content of “embarrassing shit Alec has done” on her phone, most of it consisting of his painful attempts at being straight in high school, and Alec’s pretty sure she’s started a fifth, probably titled “Alec’s horrible attempts at flirting with men,” which isn’t that much better than the straight one. Alec is debating turning around and just walking to his destination so that his sister won’t be able to gain more content for her virtual blackmail folders, which is exactly when Magnus comes into Alec’s field of vision.

Alec freezes in his tracks. Holy shit.

Magnus is standing in the center of the street again, drenched from head to toe with his head thrown back . The streetlights illuminate him from above, highlighting the curve of his neck and the colored streaks in his hair as he laughs to himself, staring up at the stars.

He looks ethereal. Alec’s never been one for the romantics, but he’s pretty sure this is what poets mean when they talk about true love and angels and immortal moments in time.

“Oh, he’s hot,” Izzy whispers approvingly. Alec agrees, because, obviously, but he pretends he’s unaffected and straightens his face.

“He’s probably freezing,” he says instead. Izzy rolls her eyes— she gets that from him, he really should stop doing that— and then, before Alec can stop her, calls out.

“Hey! Hot Umbrella Guy!”

What the fuck.

“Are you insane?” Alec hisses. He was trying to look nonchalant and not like the totally lovestruck idiot he is, but now Izzy is waving at Magnus like a maniac and Magnus has noticed them and is walking towards them and Alec is going to die. He’s going to write Izzy out of his will and then he is going to collapse into a heap of embarrassment and gay panic right here, and it’s going to be his sister’s fault.

“Relax a little, hermano,” Izzy replies, and before Alec can provide her with an alphabetized list for every reason he cannot relax, Magnus is already standing before them, smiling as water trickles from his hair.

God, he’s beautiful.

“Hello, hello!” he greets. Alec suddenly notices that Magnus is wearing Alec’s jacket, which is, well. Something. (Izzy is never going to let him live this down, and also Alec is having a very hard time thinking any thoughts.)

Magnus seems to notice Alec’s wandering line of sight, following it and glancing down, eyes widening. “Oh my god, I was fully intending to return this to you, I’m so sorry. I got a little distracted. I’ll have it cleaned and returned to you next time, I promise,” he explains. Alec shakes his head.

“No worries,” he manages, cutting himself off before he says something even stupider like “it’s yours forever” or “marry me” or something, and Izzy snorts from beside him. Alec hates her.

“Thank you,” Magnus says, then turns to face Izzy, “And what may I call you, dear?”

“I like him,” Izzy declares, in what Alec assumes is meant to be a reassuring whisper but instead ends up being incredibly loud, “I’m Izzy, Alec’s sister. And I assume you’re the elusive Magnus I’ve heard so much about?”

“Izzy,” Alec warns. Magnus smirks and shakes her hand.

“The one and only,” he confirms. There’s a mischievous sort of glint in his eye as he glances back up at Alec, and Alec’s not sure how he feels about Magnus and his sister already getting along so well, but he’s sure it can’t lead anywhere good.

“Well, Isabelle,” Magnus says, “If I asked him, do you think your brother would join me for a dance?”

Alec chokes. “What?” he splutters. Magnus turns his grin to face him.

“If I asked, Alexander, would you join me for a dance?”

“I—” Alec starts, staring down at the hand Magnus has outstretched in front of him. There are so many reasons he should say no, and so many reasons this is a bad idea, but also the most beautiful man Alec has ever seen is holding his hand out for him to take, and what else is he supposed to do? “Yeah,” he says. “Sure.”

The first thing Alec notices is how soft Magnus’s hand is in his as he pulls him out into the rain, laughing as it hits his face again, and Alec can’t help but laugh along even as water soaks into his shoes and drenches into his socks. There’s something so childish about it; giggling and spinning in an empty street without any music, holding hands like toddlers, and Alec wouldn’t have it any other way.

“You’re thinking too much,” Magnus murmurs, then he tilts his head back and closes his eyes. “It’s about being in the moment.”

Alec smiles. If only he knew, all he’s thinking about is this moment: how the water catches in Magnus’s lashes, how he’s humming something entirely off-key under his breath, the way he presses against Alec’s chest. Fuck. Alec’s known this man for three days, and he’s halfway in love already.

He closes his eyes against the rain, too, and smiles at the thought: loving a man like Magnus Bane.

Yeah, he could get used to that.

—

Five.

When Alec reaches the bus stop today, Magnus is nowhere to be seen and Alec’s jacket is sitting in a bag at the bus stop with a little post it signed with the letter “M.”

It’s fine, Alec tells himself. Magnus is probably just busy with something else, and this has nothing to do with the fact that Alec froze up awkwardly when Magnus kissed him on the cheek last week, to the point where Magnus had to nervously laugh it off because Alec was too busy panicking.

It’s a flimsy argument, but it keeps Alec from losing his mind for about fifteen minutes until the bus pulls up early and Alec realizes that this is it. He’s not going to see Magnus this week— maybe not ever again, if Magnus has decided that Alec’s gay panic is not worth his time, and Alec wouldn’t even blame him.

God, he feels so stupid. If he hadn’t acted like a complete idiot last time, then he would’ve at least had some closure.

“Sir, are you getting on or are you waiting for another bus?”

Alec blinks, glancing up to see the bus driver raising her eyebrow at him. “Right, sorry, give me just a mo—”

“Alec!”

It can’t be.

“Alexander!”

Alec spins on his heel, turning to face whoever called his name, and oh my god, it’s Magnus. He’s running up to the bus stop, waving frantically, and Alec is overcome with such a large wave of relief that he forgets that the bus driver’s been waiting for him for like five minutes now and he climbs off and runs towards Magnus, only vaguely registering the sound of the bus leaving without him. He doesn’t even care; Magnus is standing right in front of him, panting heavily but still so beautiful and perfect, and Alec would walk home everyday if he got to see Magnus because of it.

“Alexander,” Magnus huffs, gathering his breath. He absentmindedly reaches out to grab Alec’s shoulder, and Alec immediately wraps his arms around his waist to stabilize him. “Oh lord, one second, I ran all the way here.”

“I thought you were gone,” Alec says, still holding onto him. “You left the jacket and I thought—” he trails off.

Magnus frowns. “I’m so sorry,” he says. “I thought I’d made you uncomfortable last week and didn’t want to make it worse, but I didn’t realize how rude not showing up would be. I know you probably don’t feel the same way but perhaps we can still be friends? I can be completely professional about it, though you seem to have just missed your bus—”

Alec grabs Magnus’s tunic (because he’s still not wearing a jacket, Jesus Christ) and kisses him.

Magnus blinks at him when they pull away. “Oh,” he says, a little breathless, and Alec smiles.

“I don’t want to be professional about it,” he admits.

“Oh. . .”

Magnus still seems shell-shocked, so Alec makes a move to let go of him, shifting his arm away from Magnus’s waist, but then Magnus leans back in and presses his mouth back to Alec’s and oh, nevermind then.

Alec’s not sure how long they spend there, kissing like handsy teenagers under the roof of the bus stop, but he’s aware of a few cars passing (and possibly another bus), so he’s not ignorant of the fact that it’s definitely been a while when they finally pull away for more than a second. Magnus is staring at his mouth when they part, though, which is not helping Alec’s resolve to actually have a conversation about this.

“We should talk,” he manages, and Magnus nods, still staring at his mouth.

“Right,” he agrees. “That would be a wise course of action.” His eyes flick upwards for just a moment, and something flickers behind them before he beams. “My place is two stops away, if you’d like to talk there. Perhaps we can wait for the next bus together, since we seemed to have missed the one I usually take? It might take a while, though.”

Ah. Alec swallows back a grin of his own. “Of course,” he replies, “I don’t suppose you know any way to keep us busy till then?”

“I’m sure I could think of something.”

(The bus comes late, and they still somehow almost miss it. Alec refuses to take any blame for this.)

—

+ One.

Alec Lightwood didn’t believe in love at first sight, but the man standing at the bus stop is smiling softly at him as he approaches, twirling an umbrella between his hands as he waits, and Alec’s first thought is holy shit, so maybe Alec Lightwood was an idiot, because what else could it have been?

“Hello, stranger,” the man says when Alec finally reaches the stop. He glances down, taking in Alec’s rain-soaked button down and slacks, and grins. “Forget your umbrella back home?”

Alec laughs. “My coat, too,” he agrees. “I got distracted this morning.”

Magnus hums, leaning in to kiss the rain off of Alec’s mouth, and Alec smiles into it, tasting the faint wax of lipstick and the salt of the rain. “Must’ve been a pretty good distraction.”

“Yeah,” Alec says. He leans in again, because he can. They have time. “He is.”

Magnus’s lips have got a lovely little tilt to them by the time they pull away, tint slightly smudged from Alec’s attention, and he’s never looked more beautiful, even with the dingy lighting of the shitty bus stop they’re standing under.

God, Alec loves him. He feels a little stupid with the feeling, and he can’t help but step back out onto the rain, holding out his hand.

“Hey,” he murmurs. Magnus’s eyes light up with understanding. “Care to join me for a dance?” And sure, Alec’s shit at dancing, and sure, they have to get on the bus sopping wet minutes later, but they’re both giggling like idiots and clutching the umbrella together between their intertwined hands and Alec’s got a little ring box in his pocket just waiting for the right moment, so what else matters?

They’ll probably have to invite the bus driver to the wedding, though. It’s only fair.

[thehomothings]

Analysis of Kite's conflicting moralities, relationship with death, and the toll reincarnation may take on one's psyche

So, today I decided to compile all the thoughts I have had about Kite's interesting worldview since the first time I saw him into one post, mostly for my own sake, really. If you're familiar with the few posts I've made, you know it's gonna be a mess, but hopefully a comprehensible mess.

A heads up, this is going to be spoiler-heavy, and very much deal with subjects of death and dying as a whole. Also, some of these conclusions are drawn from my own experiences and close brushes with death, I'm not going to go into much detail but it might get personal and definitely dark. I'm not even sure if I can call this a meta-analysis, and I'm obviously no expert, so mayhaps take all of this with a grain of salt.

Been getting into drawing lately, and during the more simple and mindless part of the painstaking process of dotting every single star in this, I let my thoughts wander through the latest part of the fic I'm writing, and I got a better grasp on what exactly made Kite such an elusive character to me.

I'm not quite sure why I got so attached to Kite. Perhaps it was the air of tragedy surrounding him, how despite his sordid past he remained still open and gentle even if outlined by a healthy dose of cynicism.

But sometimes, I think it's the fact that he is so paradoxical. He's brave, yet fears death to such a degree that creates a whole Nen ability around it, is a pacifist yet will not hesitate to spill blood for his own sake or someone else's. Despite the many ultimatums and warnings of 'I will not protect you', he gave his arm and then his life to save Gon and Killua. He approaches each hunt and battle with a clear plan of action in mind, but his Hatsu takes the form of a roulette that gives him random weapons which are never what he wants, but what he seems to need for that exact situation, which he cannot dispel without using. When he draws a weapon, the decision is locked in and his or his opponent's fate is sealed. That's why each time he dubbs his weapon a bad roll. Every time he has to gamble, he sees himself as having run out of luck. When it comes to having to choose between himself and somebody else...well, there had never been a choice. In fact his aversion to using it may feed into its sheer power that we, unfortunately, saw too little of.

Let's go over his very first appearance when he saves Gon from the mother Foxbear.

It's not hard to see the strain searching for Ging has put on him; he's rash, prone to anger and punching a child for daring to get into trouble. In his mind, he's failing at his most important task, has not yet earned the right to call himself a hunter despite being in possession of his very own hunter license.

After killing the mother Foxbear and raging about having done so, he says this interesting line:

So yes, he finds killing for any reason rather irksome as most would do, yet I think something deeper caused him to absolutely lose it in this scene:

He had not been aware of Gon's identity, and despite being an animal lover and a naturalist, he made a choice to save the human instead of allowing nature to run its course. In fact, he says: 'No beast that harms a human must be allowed to live.'

How does one weight one life against another? How is the worth of it determined? The value of life... an impossible choice he's faced with and a choice which he seems to regret to some degree.

The Foxbear cub.

Here, he's speaking from experience, a tangible loss he has felt himself, and a hard and bitter life he does not want to impose on the cub.

His backstory is exclusive to the 2011 anime adaptation but there are hints alluding to it in the manga, for example, the fact that he does not seem to know his birthplace, or:

The choice of words is chilling.

Reading between the lines, one could draw the conclusion that he is an orphan. Something supporting this hypothesis is how he visibly deflates after Gon tells him his parents have (presumably) died.

So we see he is willing to go against his own moral code of not killing as to not doom another living being to the life he led, a lonely, hopeless existence that could barely be called one. He saw it best to put down the cub rather than leave it to die a painful, slow death.

The reason Kite himself isn't as cynical and cold-hearted as one would be after witnessing cruelty in its rawest form is those small crumbs of human kindness which he may have found in Ging.

It was not only a chance at an honorable life being Ging's apprentice gave him, but it also 'saved' him from being broken and twisted into what he hated and worst of all, death.

If we take that one minute of backstory as canon to his character-which I find myself inclined to do- these quirks of his make much more sense. He lived on the run. He lived on the knife's edge between giving up or pushing forwards. He lived as so a wrong move could be the difference between survival and the end.

Between rock and a hard place creates a mentality of black and white, absolute good or extreme evil, this or that. Except in reality, it's much harder than that. Deciding who to save and who to strike down is a heavy burden to bear.

It's almost easy to see how struggling to keep surviving could lend itself to a crippling fear of death and subsequently developing a Nen ability which once more goes against his own moral code in order to give himself a second chance...yet something about it strikes me as unlikely when I look at it this way.

Living life knowing it could end at any moment has the opposite effect, at least for me it did. One comes to accept that it is fleeting and while not eager to let it go, when death eventually and inevitably does come, there is no fighting it.

Especially when there is no hope that tomorrow will be a better day than this one.

Frequent near-death experiences numb one's fear in a way, even if it drives them to take precautions that render it unlikely to happen again and results in c-PTSD, but still, it does. It sparks a certain nihilistic view of 'if it all can end so easily, then what's the point of it all?'

Unless there are things to live for, a sure promise of a better future, and Ging gave Kite that. When he faced the threat of losing his second chance at life:

Really, what else could lead someone to develop the ability of 'the hell I'm going to die like this'?

I think a separate event, an even more brutal near-death experience that almost cost him his life as the hunter he so strived to be set him off to develop the secret roll of Crazy Slots, what I call Roll No.0, Ars moriendi. Unlike other weapons, it cannot come up in random and is directly summoned by him, or better said, summon by his overwhelming will to keep going and hopelessness of fighting a losing battle. I don't believe roll No.3 was the weapon that allowed him to reincarnate. I've named that one Wand of Fortune, a sort of armor instead of an offensive weapon since I find it hard to believe Kite, a Conjurer, would not focus on defences as well, and I will go into both mechanisms of these weapons hopefully in his backstory.

Despite knowing this battle to be a pointless one and being acutely aware of his soon to be demise, he did not immediately draw Ars moriendi, no, he stayed back and fought for the sake of the boys, kept Neferpitou occupied until they could reach safety. We can see evidence of this in the aftermath of the battle that seemed to have gone on until dawn, a torn apart landscape only signaling a fraction of the devastation that was Kite's power unleashed. It still wasn't enough.

In the anime sub I watched, when Gon apologizes to Ging about Kite's death, Ging said a sentence that infuriated me, because it belittled the utter suffering of the NGL trio.

"He would not die in your place." (No screenshot, sorry)

And I remember practically shouting at the screen, screaming 'how could you possibly say that? Of course he did. He absolutely did die in their place. How could you not know your own apprentice? Why-'

It was only last night that it hit me why Ging would say that.

Once upon a time, maybe Kite would not have given his life for anybody under any circumstances, even if he had a way out of it all. He would still need to die to come back to life.

His Thanatophobia could be attributed to the (possibly untreated) PTSD of the near-death experience in his later life, being so certain of dying that finding himself alive afterwards drove him to never want to go through that again. He quieted his fear by creating a sort of a loophole, that even if he lost the battle he would remain. Ging remembered that, but as evidence shows, something changed. Maybe he healed a bit, perhaps growing up dulled his fear to a certain degree, but eventually when it came down to his life or another's, he didn't choose himself.

Now, I can hear you saying 'but he didn't die, so what are you going on about??' And so I reply: Yes, he is alive, but he did die. He experienced that painful, horrible moment of staring death in the eyes and thinking 'This is it, this is the end', went through the actual process of having his soul removed from his body. And that moment stretches into infinity, ten lifetimes condensed into the mere seconds before oblivion.

Dying isn't so hard if one stays dead.

It's not so easy to open one's eyes and find oneself alive again after that, no matter how much that is the heart's desire. It's difficult, nigh-impossible to reconcile with life and walk amongst the living when everything had been so final, when death had been accepted to its fullest.

So Kite awakens, the twin of Meruem and back from the dead, his mind and identity both intact and fractured. In that he is Kite is no mistaking, yet he is not the same gentle pacifist whose first reaction upon sensing a monster's aura was to shield two kids from it at the cost of his arm.

I don't think many of you are familiar with Zoroastrian ideology, but Togashi is known for loving his religious imagery, and it's not only Christianism he derives inspiration from (evidence of which can be seen all over Kite's character and resurrection).

In Zurvanism-a branch of Zoroastrianism- there is talk of the twin spirits: Ahura Mazda -epitome of all that is good- and Ahriman -epitome of all that is evil-, the parent god Zurvin decides that the firstborn may rule in order to bring "heaven, hell, and everything in between."

Upon becoming aware of this fact, Ahriman forcibly tears through the womb to emerge first. Sounding familiar yet?

Zurvan relents to this turn of events only on one condition: Ahriman is given kingship for 9000 years, and then Ahura Mazda may rule for eternity.

Meruem ruled for 40 days, his death leaving the throne vacant for ant Kite, wearing a dead girl's face and seeming to be brewing some nefarious plan. No more is there any sign of that unrelenting pacifism and the sanctity of life he held so high, losing his own may have only served to show him how meaningless the pain and suffering he went through had been, dying only to be reborn as a member of the species that killed him. It may be that he has no desire to rule over the remaining Chimera ants or create an army of his own-

Yet I dread to think what a broken mind possessing limitless power might do to the world.

And that's it. If you made it this far, thank you for reading! If you found it interesting, stay tuned, as I think a lot and I will make it your problem.

[fire-lady-ilah]

I would be fascinated in any ideas you had about how the hunt for Aang would go with 'good parent Ozai' AU!

Ask and ye shall receive! (@tiktokonaclock, here’s that part two you asked about). This continues from where I left off in part 1.

At first, Ozai says no. He has good reason to do so, Zuko is the Crown Prince, should he and Azula die then he will be heirless— he doesn’t know if Ursa would be able to bear another child, nor does he wish for another. In a less logical way, his mind protests because that is his son. Sixteen, yes, but still very much a child. That isn’t even the age of conscription.

He knows that the Avatar is a child, Commander Zhao’s report said that he appeared to be twelve, travelling with two other children that were closer to Azula’s age. He knows that his children make a formidable pair, he has no doubt that, together, they could be able to take on entire battalions of soldiers.

They are his children and they are Ursa’s children. How could he just let them go out to face an enemy such as the Avatar?

Zuko has Ozai’s charisma and awkwardness (as they come together, though few remember the way the Fire Lord used to stumble over his words as a teenager). Zuko looks so much like his father that sometimes older servants even refer to him by his name. But Zuko is equal parts his mother. He has his mother’s kinder nature, and he has her drive. Ursa’s persistence is one of the only reasons the Fire Nation is flourishing as it is now. Ozai knows that it had been suffering near the end of his father’s rule, he knows that he is an amazing military leader, just as he knows that it is better to leave his wife in charge of the majority of domestic policies.

It is that persistence combined with Azula’s carefully crafted wording that she also got from her mother that makes both Ozai and Ursa cave and give permission for their children to hunt the Avatar. Sometimes, Ozai wonders if his life would be easier if he didn’t love his family so much.

Zuko and Azula leave the Fire Nation together. Zuko is sixteen and looks the very image of a Crown Prince, even if a few hairs escape his top knot and fall across his face. Azula is fourteen and looks every bit the Princess she is. A single hair escapes it’s place and she leaves it be. She would not dare call attention to imperfections, just as Ozai himself wouldn’t. He is full of pride as he watches his children board the ship (the second newest design, as advanced as possible while having already been tested. He would not let untested technology take his children from him permanently). Captain Jee stands on the deck, greeting them. Apparently he had been demoted from his position at some point for assaulting an Admiral.

(He remembers the day he discovered the Captain’s existence well. Zuko had been eleven and helping him look over military documentation that had been sent to him to approve. One of such documents had been Jee’s demotion to lieutenant.

“I remember him. He was Lu Ten’s friend.” He heard his son mumble as he touched the included portrait of Jee. Closer examination showed that it had been drawn by his nephew himself. His son had loved his cousin, and he was not against doing things to make him happy. If Jee was loyal to Lu Ten, it only meant he would be more likely to be loyal to Zuko.

“I will have him transferred to the palace guard.”)

He proved to be honourable in the guard and had quickly been promoted back to captain after Ozai heard the true reasoning of the assault through Zuko’s horrified voice. He himself cared little for the affairs of military officers, but if it made his son happy to sign the papers for the Admiral’s dishonourable discharge and imprisonment, so be it.

That action had only solidified Jee’s loyalty to his son (and by extension, his daughter).

Now, I’m conflicted on whether or not Iroh would go with them. I’m leaning toward yes. Neither of them have been hurt by their father, but Zuko is still the most naturally kindhearted person in the royal family and he is destined to be Fire Lord. Azula has more empathy than she does in canon (although that’s not saying much), I doubt Iroh would comment that she’s “crazy and needs to go down”. After all, Ozai loves both his children here. That means that he doesn’t intentionally harm their mental health, nor does he encourage competition between them. They both want to make both their parents proud. If nothing else, Iroh would go with them so that he could stop them.

Thus, shortly after the Crown Prince and Princess of the Fire Nation step onto the ship, the Dragon of the West follows. It is filled with the best of the Fire Nation to seek the only bender of all four elements.

A stark contrast to canon, no?

The hunt progresses somewhat like in canon, though not. Lo and Li instruct further Zuko and Azula in lightning bending.

(“Only a hair out of place, Princess Azula.”

“That means I shall achieve perfection soon.”)

Iroh takes over his nephew and niece’s firebending training, though Azula is a master in her own right and Zuko is nearly a master as well. He forces them back to their basics.

Zuko yells and stomps and Iroh is reminded of his brother at the same age, back before his brother became the monster he is now. The same brother he sees glimpses of when Ozai is alone with his wife and children, the same brother that he sees none of in the Fire Lord. Azula is silent and moves to do her basics without complaint. She unnerves him, but he still loves her.

He loves them both. And he loves what remains of his brother in Ozai, even if he would choose the balance of the world over the Fire Lord in an instant.

They visit Admiral Zhao first. He declares that he has already captured the Avatar and that he would be more than willing to transfer his prisoner onto the royal family’s better equipped ship.

The siblings visit the chained Avatar. Zhao speaks of what he plans to do.

That is the thing about Ozai loving his children. Loving them means protecting them from certain cruelties, at least more than he did in canon. Zuko and Azula both see the Avatar, only twelve, and Zhao’s words overlap with Azulon’s orders to their father when Lu Ten dies. After all, Zuko had been only a year younger then.

That night, the Blue Spirit and the Dragon Emperor break the Avatar out of the stronghold with dual dao and twin daggers as the Prince and Princess sleep in their luxurious cabins. If that isn’t completely the truth, no one says anything to suggest as such. The Blue Spirit is knocked out by an arrow to the forehead. The Dragon Emperor does not allow the Avatar to remove the mask.

(“How did you not see that coming, Zuzu?”

“In my defence, you were supposed to be watching my back while I pulled the Avatar away.”)

They meet the Avatar’s companions briefly before the Emperor gestures to the rising sun and they disappear.

It is only after the escape of the Avatar that Iroh begins to consider the siblings further.

They pen a letter to their father.

Ozai reads between the lines and wonders, just once, if perhaps he had sheltered his children from the reality of war too much. He does not wonder again because he knows the alternative would have been far worse.

Instead, Ozai speaks with his wife. Ursa is a complex woman, but the Avatar is the reincarnation of her grandfather and she has an actress’s mind (and thus she has a politician’s mind).

As their children chase the Avatar, the Fire Lord and Lady put their own plan into motion. Canon Ozai may be content to lay all responsibility on his children, but this Ozai is actually a decent dad.

The siblings are free to enter Fire Nation territory as they wish and have no reason to sneak into the temple, even still they do. They watch as a Fire Sage, one of the highest religious authorities in the Fire Nation, disobeys the Fire Lord to help the Avatar.

Zuko’s quick fingers undo the water tribe boy’s restraints as Azula’s undo the girl’s. They share playful smirks, after all, neither of them are in any danger. They are a powerful team and they have their father’s unwavering support.

(“Why did you just untie us?”

“Zhao’s a dick.”)

Avatar Roku emerges in place of Avatar Aang. He pauses in front of the children, the girl that has Rina’s smile, the boy that has her hair (his own hair), always trying to escape from its confines.

They do not waver. They do, however, run when the Avatar begins to destroy the temple.

The siblings believe the Fire Nation is the greatest in the world. They believe that it is their duty to spread their glory to the other nations. But, late at night, taking tea together, they consider that perhaps Fire Lord Sozin went about it in the wrong way.

(Great-grandfather says hi, Ursa reads aloud from their children’s letter. Not for the first time, Ozai regrets sending his children on such a dangerous mission. He knew that Avatar Roku had been spotted on Crescent Island, he knew that he had blown up the temple. How close had his children come to being blown up?)

The Avatar sets course for Omashu. The siblings make a stop in the Fire Nation while they’re nearby. They have a friend to pick up.

Parts: [1] [3] [4]

[reinerispretty]

little moments. zuko x f!reader rotations bonus

HI UM!!!! THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR 2K!!!!! i love each and every one of u with my WHOLE HEART!!!! 

i was trying to think of something special to do that everyone would enjoy, so why not a good callback to the reason why most of us are here hehehe

when i wrote rotations, there were lots of avenues that i thought of taking after the fall of ba sing se! in the fic, (y/n) is arrested, and i posted a bonus already of how it would have ended if she had escaped with sokka and the rest of the gaang. HOWEVER, i did think of her taking azula up on her offer of going back to the fire nation and being there with zuko (insert side eye emoji) 

so that’s what this is! a little rotations bonus to say thank you so much for sticking with me!!

She had contemplated it as she was in her room on the ship. Of running away and finding Sokka, Katara, and Toph. She would tell them that she couldn’t do it. She wasn’t strong enough.

But as she lie awake that night, she thought of everything Aang had sacrificed in order to ensure that they would have a better life. If he was truly gone, it would a disservice to their entire cause if she couldn’t risk something the way her beloved friend had.

The weight of what she had done settled into her stomach as soon as (Y/N) opened her eyes. She stared up at the ceiling of one of the guest bedrooms in the Earth King’s palace, needles dancing behind her eyes. For the first time in months, she was completely alone. 

Azula had offered her immunity if she chose to join her. All would be forgiven if (Y/N) would just join them and return to her home, her real home. The mainland of the Fire Nation and the inner workings of palace life. It would be like nothing had changed. And (Y/N) had said yes. 

It wasn’t as if she wanted to betray her friends. It was something that Sokka had discussed with her, in the event that she was captured. 

A knock sounded against the heavy green door. (Y/N) sat up against the fluffy green pillows and called whoever it was in. Servants filtered in, carrying bundles of clothing, brushes, soaps, and dishes of water. One stopped at the foot of her bed. “The Princess has asked that you ready yourself to see her in the throne room.” 

(Y/N) nodded silently and slipped out of the bed. The servants guided her to a chair in front of a vanity where they worked at her appearance.

Looking in the mirror was difficult. (Y/N) couldn’t bring herself to do it. Instead, as she was dressed in the traditional clothing of her nation, she kept her eyes cast downward and remained silent as the servants scrubbed the dirt from her nails and face and brushed the knots from her hair. It was as if, little by little, evidence of her time with Aang, Katara, Toph, and Sokka was being erased. 

Sokka. She thought back to their conversation on the floor of their house in Ba Sing Se, shrouded in darkness as they whispered to each other. “Do what you can to keep yourself safe,” He had said quietly. “Pretend that you like them or something. When you can, meet back up with us and tell us about the Fire Lord’s plan.”

“I’m not leaving you guys,” She had scoffed, hoping that Sokka’s request of her was fake. Did he really expect her to leave her friends? The people who had become her family?

Sokka had turned over on his stomach to look at her. “You’re our best chance at gathering intel about the Fire Nation. They know you there, they trust you.” 

“Not anymore,” She pointed out. Sokka shrugged. 

“They have a soft spot for you. You’re one of our advantages, (Y/N). If given the opportunity, I need you to take it.” 

She had turned over, staring straight into his sky blue eyes. She rested her chin on her palm. She wasn’t taking Sokka seriously, so she had humored him. “Fine,” She agreed. “If Azula wanders up to me and asks me to go back, I’ll play spy.” 

Sokka’s face remained serious despite her joking tone. “I don’t want you to do this either,” He had told her. “If you get into any serious danger, just come back to m--us.” 

(Y/N) had laughed. “Danger? In the Fire Nation? No way.” 

In the present, (Y/N) dared to look at herself in the mirror. Her hair was done in the traditional Fire Nation topknot, flowing freely down her back. She looked as she had over a year ago. Beloved daughter of the Fire Nation with a miserable glint in her eye. Was this who she had always been? She swallowed thickly to press down the tears. 

She had learned to trust Sokka’s judgment overtime. It was a good plan. She was the only one that could do it. But it hadn’t been a day and she already couldn’t wait to be reunited with her friends. In the meantime, she would have to do her best to pretend that this was the life she wanted. One of cruelty and submission. 

She had sat in the palace the night before, as Zuko and Azula fought Katara and Aang in the caverns below the city. She had watched Appa fly away, with no knowledge of how her friends had fared during the fight. 

Once she was done getting ready, (Y/N) dismissed the servants. She walked quietly to the throne room, her head down. When she entered, Azula was sat in the Earth King’s throne, still wearing her Earth Kingdom disguise. Mai and Ty Lee were seated at the steps beneath her. The one person she was expecting to see was absent. 

Ty Lee’s face lit up when she saw (Y/N), and as soon as she finished her bow, the young acrobat cartwheeled over to her and gave her a hug. (Y/N’s) first instinct was to stiffen, but she fought it and squeezed Ty Lee as hard as she could. 

“It’s so good to have you back!” Ty Lee exclaimed, clasping (Y/N’s) cheeks between her hands. “I’ve never seen your aura look better!” 

“That’s...great?” (Y/N) questioned, furrowing her brows. Her eyes drifted over to Mai, who picked her nails with the blades of her darts. 

“Hey.” Was all she said. Well, that was alright. Mai and (Y/N) had never been very close. 

“Good morning,” Azula drawled, a smile curling on her lips. (Y/N) was unsure if it was genuine or menacing. Both were to be expected when dealing with Azula. “I’ve talked to Father. He’s willing to fully pardon you for your crimes.” 

“That’s--” (Y/N) swallowed. “That’s very generous of the Fire Lord.” 

“Yes. I told him all about the poison the Avatar and his friends put into your head. Without guidance from me, you were easily influenced.” Azula adjusted her position in the throne, tucking her legs beneath herself. She looked like she belonged there. “Father and I both agreed that it would be best if I kept you close. You need support from your real friends.” 

(Y/N) knew what this was, and Azula did too. It was not something from the kindness of the young princess’s heart. It was a way to control (Y/N), to make sure that she wouldn’t stray. A single misstep and it was likely that she would be six feet under. It was even more likely that Azula would put her there herself. 

(Y/N) tried as hard as she could to smile gratefully. “Thank you, Azula. Please give your father my thanks.” The doors to the throne room opened then, revealing Zuko. He was dressed in a royal Fire Nation robe, but his green Earth Kingdom clothes still poked out from beneath the red fabric. (Y/N) liked to think that she had become very vigilant in her time running from the Fire Nation, so she noticed the way Mai’s face lit up just slightly at his appearance. 

He looked over at (Y/N), his eyes widening in surprise. He opened his mouth to speak, then immediately shut it. She stared back at him, her eyes boring into his. While it may appear that she and Zuko were on the same side, she had no intention of forgiving him for turning on Iroh. For throwing away all the progress he had made in his time away from the Fire Nation. He was so close to becoming the version of himself that she always believed he could be and he had thrown it all away for trivial acceptance. 

Zuko was the first to turn away and (Y/N) looked back to Ty Lee. 

“Can you tell me about the boy you were traveling with?” Ty Lee questioned. “The one with the ponytail?” 

“Yes, (Y/N),” Azula said. “Do tell us all about your time with the Avatar and his friends. I’d like to know what they’re planning.” 

“His name is Sokka,” (Y/N) told Ty Lee, trying her hardest to not show any amount of affection in her voice. “And I don’t know what they’re planning. They never trusted me enough to share.” She stared straight into Azula’s golden eyes. Azula was a skilled liar, but (Y/N) had grown up with her. She had a lot more tricks up her sleeve than the princess would anticipate. 

Azula narrowed her fine eyebrows. “That’s quite alright. I suppose we don’t have much to worry about, considering Zuko killed the Avatar.” 

(Y/N) had to hold in her gasp or else she would be jeopardizing everything she was here for. There was no way Aang could be gone. He was the connection between the Spirit World and the Human World. Wouldn’t they be able to feel it? 

She curled her hands into fists, her nails pressing crescent shaped marks into her skin. “You should be thanking him,” Said Azula. (Y/N’s) eyes slid across the room to Zuko. He stared at his sister, his own brow furrowed in confusion. “Go on. Say thank you.” 

“Thank you,” (Y/N) said quietly to Zuko. She hated how silent he was being. If Aang was gone, then Zuko would now be dead to her. He had done something unforgivable. If he didn’t understand the weight of his actions now, then he never would. 

“Our ship leaves tonight,” Azula announced, standing up and stretching her body. “We should be back home by morning. (Y/N), you’ll be staying in the palace with Zuzu and I, since your parents failed to protect you from the Avatar.” 

“Thank you,” (Y/N) repeated, perhaps because her brain couldn’t think of anything else. 

“Father also wants to have an audience with you,” Azula said as she skipped down the steps. She strode over to (Y/N), the same mischievous glint in her eye. “Something about loyalty.” Azula’s smile was menacing. 

(Y/N) swallowed. She was in way over her head. 

---

Their ship docked in the royal port, just below the palace. Guards escorted (Y/N) off of the ship, which was horribly embarrassing. Truly they couldn’t think of her as that big of a threat to require guards? Perhaps they had thought she might try to escape. She had contemplated it as she was in her room on the ship. Of running away and finding Sokka, Katara, and Toph. She would tell them that she couldn’t do it. She wasn’t strong enough. 

But as she lie awake that night, she thought of everything Aang had sacrificed in order to ensure that they would have a better life. If he was truly gone, it would a disservice to their entire cause if she couldn’t risk something the way her beloved friend had. It was intimidating, being surrounded by those she had fought for so long, but (Y/N) was different now. She wasn’t the girl that they thought they knew. Her time with her friends had changed her for the better. 

So, (Y/N) stepped off the ship and back onto the Fire Nation mainland with her chin held high, a smirk playing at the corners of her lips. If she were to be believable, she had to exude confidence, even if she was scared out of her mind. Her confidence began to falter as the guards walked her past Zuko and Azula, past Mai and Ty Lee, and to the room that she remembered to be the Fire Lord’s throne room. 

She had not set foot into this room since she was nine, when she had exhibited her firebending skills for Fire Lord Azulon. So much had changed since then. If she had thought Azulon was intimidating then, Ozai was something to be feared. 

He sat on his throne, red flames shooting up in columns on either side. As soon as she was before him, the guards left, and (Y/N) fell into a bow. She absolutely despised groveling, but she knew it was what needed to be done in order to survive beneath the Fire Lord’s nose. 

She tried her best to bring back all the information of Fire Nation etiquette that had gathered dust at the back of her mind. After a few moments of silence, she rose and sat on her knees, hands folded in her lap as she stared forward at Ozai. Her eyes were downcast, avoiding her gaze. (Y/N) tried her best to come across as shameful. 

“You have grown since the last time you were in these halls,” The Fire Lord spoke. His voice was calm, too calm for someone who was talking to a traitor. (Y/N) inhaled a deep breath. 

“My lord,” She said, her voice shaky from nerves. “I am so, so sorry for betraying our nation. I deserve to be thrown into prison and never let out.” 

“Is that what you want?” Ozai questioned. “To be rotting in a cell?” (Y/N) curled her fingers into her dress and made a rash decision. She looked at the Fire Lord and stared directly into his amber eyes. 

“I want to prove myself to the nation. And to you. I was a foolish girl. After Zuko’s banishment, I was heartbroken. I let my feelings get the better of me.” There was some truth to her lies. She wasn’t foolish, nor did she want to prove herself, but Zuko’s banishment had only been a catalyst for how she felt about the Fire Nation. 

“I don’t give second chances.” (Y/N) felt a tugging at her heart. She couldn’t report to her friends from jail. Or if she was dead. “But perhaps you can redeem yourself after your punishment.” (Y/N’s) eyebrow quirked up curiously. 

Ozai plucked a metal rod from his side and stood, walking down to meet her. (Y/N) knew what it was. Their words for ‘traitor’ were cast into iron at the end of the rod, which was already heating up from Ozai’s touch. The brand was given to those who had betrayed the nation, so that all would know of their treachery. They considered it to be a better option that rotting in jail or being executed. 

(Y/N) gulped. She had never seen a branding performed, but she had heard the screams as Ursa had ushered her, Azula, and Zuko away from the palace when they were young. It was a practice that not even Azulon had instituted. It was purely of Ozai’s crafting. 

“Your arm,” Ozai said, gesturing to her right arm. (Y/N) pulled up her sleeve. She could feel her body getting hot, the fight or flight instincts kicking in and begging her to run. As a native to the Fire Nation and a firebender, she was able to withstand a great amount of heat. Which meant that the poker needed to be thousands of degrees hotter than the average in order to brand her skin. “This is a punishment for your own actions,” Ozai sneered. “You brought this upon yourself.” 

The hot poker pressed into the skin of her forearm and (Y/N) had to bite down as hard as she possibly could on her bottom lip to keep herself from shouting, but it was no use. The pain was unbearable, shooting up her arm and reverberating on every nerve within her body. She couldn’t control her shrill screams as they echoed in the massive hall. Hot tears streamed down her face as she watched what Ozai was doing to her. She should have escaped when she had the chance, should have told Sokka no, she couldn’t return to the Fire Nation. She had been a child then, she wouldn’t be safe from the horrors that Ozai inflicted on others. 

He removed the iron from her skin and (Y/N) collapsed in on herself, her body shaking with sobs. She knew that showing weakness was even more dangerous now than ever before, but this was a treatment that was reserved for seasoned war criminals, not fifteen year old girls. She looked up at Ozai through cloudy eyes, barely able to see through her tears. “Thank you, my lord,” She said, her voice shaky and small because her throat was clouded with sobs. 

“You are dismissed,” He said as he returned to his position on his throne, not bothering to look back at her. (Y/N) stood on wobbly legs and bowed once more before walking slowly out of the throne room. As soon as she was beyond its doors, she started running. She couldn’t even see where she was going, but her feet carried her to the only place she knew would help. 

She sobbed heavily as she reached the turtle duck pond, dropping to her knees and shoving her arm into the cool water. The turtle ducks quacked and flapped away from her, but (Y/N) couldn’t care. She wanted Katara, whose healing powers would ease the burning pain shooting up and down her arm. She wanted to be held, to be reassured that everything would be alright. She cried, her tears dripping into the pond water. It probably wasn’t the most sanitary situation, but the coolness of the water helped ease her pain just slightly. 

“(Y/N)?” Zuko’s voice sounded far away in her ears. “What happened?” 

(Y/N) couldn’t bring herself to look any farther up than his boots. She felt so tired, but she couldn’t afford to pass out. She couldn’t let her guard down once while in this place. “Just go away,” She said meekly, the fingers on her other hand clawing into the soft grass. 

“Father gave her her punishment,” Azula said from the other side of (Y/N). Having the both of them here was the absolute last thing she wanted. Azula pulled her arm from the pond and wrapped cool towels around her burn. (Y/N) hissed in pain, but she had to admit that it was better than the pond water. “If it makes you feel any better,” continued Azula nonchalantly. “You passed his test.” 

“You knew about this?” Zuko demanded, his eyes wild with anger. Azula scoffed. 

“Relax, Zuzu. It’s just a little burn.” Delirious, (Y/N) laughed bitterly. Her ragged breathing was starting to even out. 

Zuko bent down at her side, placing a hand on her shoulder. (Y/N) shrugged it off and stood, refusing to look at him. She wiped the tears from her eyes and removed the towels from her arm. ‘Traitor’ was beginning to blister on her skin. It would be something that remained with her for the rest of her life. 

She looked up at Azula. “Can you take me to my room?” 

“You should probably go to the infirmary,” Zuko suggested. 

“Zuko, I heard that Mai was looking for you,” Azula’s voice was laced with spite that stung both Zuko and (Y/N). Azula linked her arm with (Y/N’s) good one and led her back into the palace. 

“Father said it was necessary for you to understand the damage you’ve done,” Azula said lowly to (Y/N). “You weren’t only a nuisance to me, you know. The whole Fire Nation was ashamed of you.” Azula giggled. She had a way of making jokes out of insults, but once she saw (Y/N’s) face, her own softened. “It will heal.” 

“Will there be more tests to prove my willingness?” (Y/N) questioned. “If they’re worse than this, I don’t know if I’ll survive.” 

“That’s all Father had planned for you.” (Y/N) noticed how Azula failed to mention if she had any tests for her. With a deep sigh, (Y/N) hoped that her friends were better off than she was. 

---

A nurse had visited (Y/N’s) room to tend to her wound. The expression on her face had been a mixture of disgust and pity. (Y/N) hadn’t had the energy to leave her bed for a few days, which she recognized was putting her mission in jeopardy. She was supposed to be gathering information, not wallowing beneath the blankets. 

After the nurse had dressed her bandages, (Y/N) decided it was best to finally roam about the palace. There was still a stinging sensation on her skin whenever it rubbed against the fabric of her dress, but she tried her best to ignore it as she walked through the halls of the Royal Palace, as well as memory lane. The place had become considerably more focused on Ozai rather than the greatness of the Fire Nation. Servants scampered about in fear, careful not to cross her path. She didn’t recognize anyone that she saw. (Y/N) used to know everyone by name. She guessed that they had either fled the palace or had been fired. Or worse. 

Being there felt like being out of place in your own home. Thinking back on her past felt like looking into someone else’s life. 

She paused at the tapestries of the Fire Lords, staring up at Ozai’s looming figure. He looked the most menacing, and perhaps that was because he was the most dangerous. There was only a month until the Day of the Black Sun, but that seemed like such a short amount of time to figure out how to defeat Ozai. 

“It’s different,” Zuko said at her side, and (Y/N) jumped in surprise, clutching a hand to her heart. “Being back here after so long,” He elaborated. 

(Y/N) hummed. If she were being honest, she avoided Zuko as much as she could. She felt as though she couldn’t stand to be around him. If she were alone with him for too long, she might end up beating him senseless. 

“Why did you come back?” Zuko questioned. “I thought you were happy with them.” 

“I guess we both don’t know each other as well as we thought,” (Y/N) said, keeping her voice as level as possible. She looked at Zuko, her face devoid of emotion. “I’m not here for you.” 

Zuko frowned. “I didn’t think you were.” 

“Good.” She turned to walk away, but Zuko grabbed her by the sleeve of her robes. 

“If you’re here, why are you mad at me? You’ve forgiven everyone else.” 

“You killed my friend,” She said quietly. “How could I ever forgive you for doing that?” 

“That wasn’t--” Zuko huffed, lowering his voice. “I didn’t kill Aang. Azula used her lightning on him.” 

(Y/N) narrowed her eyes. “How do I know you’re telling the truth?” 

“You would trust Azula over me?” 

“You of all people should know that you can’t trust anyone here.” She crossed her arms over one another, wincing at the contact of her wound. “Why would Azula lie?” 

“Azula always lies,” Zuko said, repeating the mantra they had created when they were kids. “Why would it matter to you what happened in the underground city? You left them. You betrayed them.” (Y/N) flinched. 

“And you feel so confident after abandoning your uncle?” Zuko’s eyes sparked with anger. After all this time, at least she knew exactly what buttons to push. “I cared about them,” She said, choosing her words very carefully. “I spent months with them, it was impossible not to. If they had killed you, I would be feeling the same way.” (Y/N) swallowed. “But they wouldn’t have. They’re different from you and me.” 

She left him then, her heart pounding against her chest. Part of her wished that she could reach out to Zuko, to make him see all the wrong that their nation was causing the world, but she knew it would be too dangerous. Zuko’s loyalties lay with his family and Mai now. He might have been (Y/N’s) once, but he was no longer. 

---

“Are you really going to stay under that umbrella the whole time?” Ty Lee pouted, grabbing (Y/N) by the arm. “The whole point of going to the beach is to get some sun!” 

(Y/N) poked her feet from beneath the umbrella, wiggling her toes in the warm sand. She pointed at them. “They’re getting sun.” Ty Lee sighed, retreating back to her towel on the beach, where dozens of boys were already waiting for her. (Y/N) adjusted on her own beach chair, wrapping her shawl tightly around her shoulders. The words etched into her arm would be a dead giveaway to the children of Fire Nation aristocracy that littered Ember Island. It would cause more trouble than it was worth. 

“I’m surprised you’re not running into the water,” Mai said in her monotonous voice. “I thought you loved to swim.” 

“Yeah, I’d just rather not draw attention to the ugly branding on my arm,” (Y/N) said offhandedly, digging into her beach bag for a pack of fire flakes. She offered some to Mai, who took a few and shook them into her palm. The girls ate together quietly. 

“It’s better than getting sent to Boiling Rock,” Mai said and (Y/N) snorted. 

“That’s what I keep telling myself, but it didn’t feel like it in the moment.” Mai’s dark eyes glanced at (Y/N’s) arm, ‘traitor’ slightly visible beneath the sheerness of her shawl. 

“I didn’t think they were actually going to do it,” Mai admitted. “Azula begged her dad not to execute you.” 

(Y/N) coughed from surprise and also from the heat of the fire flakes. “Well, I’m glad to hear I was saved from a worse fate.” Zuko returned then, taking a seat between Mai and (Y/N). He handed his girlfriend ice cream, which promptly fell on her lap. 

She hadn’t been on Ember Island for many summers, but things rarely changed on the tourist destination. Her family used to have a house on the opposite side of the island. She wondered who occupied it now. 

Azula squatted at (Y/N’s) other side. “We’ve been invited to a party,” She announced, a triumphant smile on her face. (Y/N) sighed. 

“I don’t really think I’m up for a party,” She said, and Azula’s fingers wrapped around her arm, pressing into the healing skin. 

“Please? You have to come!” Azula demanded, but her smile seemed genuine. (Y/N) coughed. 

“Azula? My arm.” Azula lifted her hands immediately, giving her a look that was almost apologetic. 

“You have to come,” Azula repeated. “I already told them to expect the five of us.” 

So (Y/N) was forced to attend a Fire Nation party. If the children of these diplomats had annoyed her as kids, she couldn’t stand them as teenagers. (Y/N) kept to the wall, preferring to people watch and nibble on the stacked plate she had snagged from the food table. She had traded her shawl for a long-sleeved shirt that had been buried in the back of Lo and Li’s closet. It was definitely old fashioned, but (Y/N) didn’t really care. 

As she watched, (Y/N) thought of how she had never actually been to a party. Growing up, there were certain obligations and expectations that she needed to uphold. Being betrothed to Zuko meant taking lessons and maintaining appearances. She had gone to an all girl’s school for a short amount of time before being pulled out of her lessons to be tutored at the palace. Really, her entire childhood had consisted of Zuko, Azula, and other adults. 

“Hey, how’s it going?” One boy asked, walking up to her and leaning against the wall. (Y/N) jumped in surprise, nearly spilling her food. When did she get so jumpy? Perhaps it was a side effect of constantly being on edge. 

“Uh, hi,” She said, unsure why this boy was talking to her. Is this what happened at parties? People just walked up to other people without formal introductions? She felt so lame. 

“I’m Lee,” He said, and (Y/N) snorted, because the Fire Nation had a million Lee’s and Zuko had been one of them. Her eyes cut over to the prince, who stood brooding in a corner as he watched his girlfriend. 

“Sorry,” (Y/N) apologized, turning back to the boy. “I have so many friends named Lee. I’m (Y/N).” She took a bite of a carrot to punctuate her sentence. 

“Is this your first time on the island?” Lee asked, resting his back against the wall as she had. His eyes were a nice light brown, his hair black and shoulder-length and tied half up in the back. He was likely a whole foot taller than (Y/N). 

She shook her head. “I used to come here all the time when I was a kid. But y’know, life gets in the way so I haven’t been back in a few years.” 

“So where are you from?” He had a lot of questions. 

“The mainland,” (Y/N) answered. She wanted to be honest, as keeping up lies tended to be difficult, but she didn’t want to tell him that she was currently living at the palace. “And you?” 

“I’m from a smaller island off the coast of the mainland. My dad’s the mayor there.” 

“Oh, that’s nice.” (Y/N) realized she had a hard time talking to boys that she didn’t know almost everything about. She set her empty plate in the trash can and extended her hand to him, watching carefully so that her sleeves would not roll up. “Do you want to dance?” 

“Dance?” He questioned. (Y/N) smiled. 

“There’s music and an empty floor. That implies dancing.” 

“I don’t think--” She grabbed him by the hand anyway, leading him to the middle of the floor. 

“My grandfather taught me this one,” She told him, and she started dancing. It was another lie. Aang had taught her the traditional Fire Nation dances from his childhood, one night while their group was camped by a river bank and feeling incredibly bored. She had had no idea that her culture had once had a history of anything other than war, but learning the dance moves had excited her. 

“Like this?” Lee asked, repeating her movements. (Y/N) nodded her head excitedly. 

“Exactly!” She looked around the room and locked eyes with Ty Lee, who was always willing to have a fun time. She gestured for her to join her and once Ty Lee ran to the middle, other boys started flocking to the center to dance with them. 

For a while, (Y/N) forgot about her mission and the friends she had left behind. Later, this would make her sad. But for right now, she felt like a regular girl in the Fire Nation. 

Lee had pulled her close and spun her around so fast that she had been practically thrown from the crowd of dancers, spinning around the room until she eventually bumped into someone. (Y/N) laughed out an apology as the person gripped her forearms to steady her balance. When she looked up, she stared straight at Zuko. 

She had allowed herself to stare, for a few seconds. The last time they had been this close, he had been preparing for his Agni Kai. The pink and red skin of his scar might have been off-putting to some, but (Y/N) thought he looked as lovely as the first day she had met him. She wanted to reach her hand up and touch him, to feel the contrast between soft cheek and rough scar tissue, but as soon as she had that thought, she pushed it away. 

“Sorry,” She repeated as she separated herself from Zuko. The mood was ruined. She remembered everything that he had done, everything that she had left behind, and soon she went back to her spot on the wall, watching as the others danced happily. 

---

They had left the party, but really they had been thrown out. Zuko had been jealous of boys talking to Mai, so they had broken up, but then Zuko had started a fight? (Y/N) wasn’t necessarily sure what had happened. One moment she was moving back toward the snack table, the next Azula was pulling her out of the house by her collar. 

They sat on the beach now, surrounding the fire that (Y/N) had started. She remained quiet as they listed their qualms with each other, and with the universe. Her eyes remained focused on the flames as she processed the information and thought of any way that Sokka might be able to use it against them. But then a pit settled in her stomach. These were personal things that they were sharing, and it didn’t seem right to expose them so viciously. 

“You’re just going to be quiet?” Zuko demanded, his voice rough and laced with annoyance. Her eyes snapped toward him, a frown placing itself upon her features. 

“We’re all sharing,” Ty Lee said gently from her right. “Even Azula shared something.” (Y/N’s) eyes cut to Azula, who looked at her expectantly. 

“I think I’m alright.” She didn’t want to risk exposing herself. She wasn’t even sure what was safe to say. These were her childhood friends, but who knew what would happen if she revealed even a fraction of how she really felt. 

“Do you think you’re too good for us?” Zuko questioned, staring down at her. His voice was hard, laced with attitude as it normally was, but he seemed curious. “You spend time with the Avatar and his buddies and now you’re stuck with second rate friends?” 

“I chose to come back,” (Y/N) narrowed her eyes at Zuko. 

“It feels like you picked second best,” Azula said. (Y/N) locked eyes with her from across the fire. “We’re not idiots, we know you enjoyed your time with them. If you hadn’t, you wouldn’t have abandoned the life you had.” 

“You all seem to forget that the life I had wasn’t the life that I wanted,” (Y/N) said, staring at each of the people that surrounded her. “I was sent away from the only home I had ever known, from the only people that I had ever known, to live in an Earth Kingdom colony. My father thought I was a disappointment and my mother hated everything I did, and the people that I thought cared about me left me behind without a second thought.” She paused, turning to Zuko. “Did any of you even think about me? Even bother to consider how I might have felt? You’re all so concerned with your own lives, you always have been. I was alone. I might have made mistakes, but that’s what happens when you’re desperate for someone to care about you.” 

She firebended into the dying flames, causing them to shoot toward the sky. 

“Why come back then?” Mai asked. 

(Y/N) hesitated for a split second, but it was just long enough for Zuko to notice. “People fighting against the Fire Nation aren’t always eager to have someone from the Fire Nation with them.” She shrugged. “I just wanted to belong somewhere.” 

Ty Lee scrambled over to her, wrapping her arms around (Y/N). “You belong with us!” (Y/N) insisted. “We never wanted to fight you. We would always feel so horrible about it after.” 

(Y/N) gave her a light smile. “I would, too.” She risked casting a glance over at Azula, who refused to meet her eyes. (Y/N) couldn’t tell if she had messed everything up or if she was still in the clear. 

They let the fire die eventually, and one by one, each of the teenagers began returning to the house, until (Y/N) was the last one left. She had moved further down the beach where the tide splashed against the sand. It was a warm summer night on Ember Island, and the water was just right. The only light surrounding her was the light of the full moon, which cast a lovely silver glow on everything. 

“Hi, Yue,” She sighed, splashing her fingers into the water. “I wish there was a way that you could tell me they were okay.” 

She heard shuffling from behind her and turned around, surprised to see Zuko walking toward her. She turned back, facing the water once more. “I’ll be back to the house in a few minutes, I just wanted to sit for a while.” 

He sat in the sand, just a foot away from her. (Y/N) held in her sigh. Zuko was the last person she wanted sitting with her right now. She wanted to hate him for everything that he had done, but then she looked at him and all she wanted to do was talk to him. The inner conflict that he gave her was enough to put her in a sour mood for hours. 

“I didn’t know where you were,” Zuko said quietly. (Y/N) turned to him and furrowed her brows. “No one would tell me.” His eyes met hers. “Or else I would have written.” 

“Oh,” (Y/N) said, feeling her cheeks become hot. “It was years ago. It doesn’t really matter anymore.” 

“If it didn’t matter to you, you wouldn’t have said it.” Sometimes it hit (Y/N) that just as she knew the inner workings of Zuko, her knew her as well. “I meant it, when I said that I thought of you every day.” 

“I meant what I said too,” (Y/N) said quietly. “But things are different now. You’re Prince Zuko of the Fire Nation, not Lee from the tea shop.” 

“I’m still who I was in Ba Sing Se.” She shook her head. 

“You think that, but we both know what being back here really means.” Being back in the Fire Nation meant Zuko had reverted back to who he once was, someone eager to please his father, no matter the cost. 

Zuko was quiet, as if he didn’t know what to say. She was surprised with how calm he was being. Perhaps the full moon had an odd effect on everyone. 

“Can I ask you something?” (Y/N) questioned, and Zuko nodded. “Was Azula really the one to kill Aang?” 

He hesitated, but then he nodded. “He was in his Avatar State and she struck him with lightning.” 

(Y/N) pushed back the tears that threatened to spill over. Even with Zuko, she couldn’t truly show herself. “Why’d she tell everyone it was you?” 

“To get me in my father’s good graces.” He scoffed. “To save herself in case it didn’t work.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“When Katara and I were trapped in the caves, she told me that she had water from the Spirit World pool in the Northern Water Tribe.” Zuko shook his head. “I-I don’t know what could have happened, but there’s something telling me that no one really knows what happened to Aang.” 

That gave (Y/N) all the hope that she needed. Aang was safe. He was alright.

“So, if Aang is alive and your father thinks you failed...” She did not want to finish her sentence. She met Zuko’s golden eyes once more. “After everything he’s done, why did you come back?” 

“Same reason as you, I guess. I wanted to feel like I belonged somewhere.” 

She had never considered that Zuko had been feeling alone during his time with Iroh. She had been conflicted over her loyalties, but it had only lasted a few moments until she made the choice to join Team Avatar. She was confident that she was doing the right thing, but there was more at stake for Zuko. 

“You didn’t swim today,” he said suddenly. 

(Y/N) shrugged. “I didn’t want anyone to see my arm,” She said simply, but Zuko winced. 

“I...I didn’t know he was going to do that. If I had, I would’ve--” (Y/N) shook her head to stop him. 

“We both know firsthand what he’s capable of. I wouldn’t have wanted you to put yourself in a position like that.” She touched her arm, where beneath the fabric of her sleeve lay the raised marks of the brand that was still healing. “Who knows, maybe I’ll be laughing about it in a few years.” 

Zuko glanced at the water, then back to (Y/N). “Do you want to go swimming?”

(Y/N) opened her mouth to protest, but Zuko didn’t seem to be having it. “You love swimming.” And it was true, she did love to swim. She had spent hours in the water during their trips to this island as children. Her mother had had to practically drag her from the beach. 

(Y/N) stood and removed her top layer of clothes, revealing the bathing suit beneath. Without hesitating, she ran into the warm water, diving beneath the calm waves. When she resurfaced, Zuko was only a few paces away from her, the robe that he had been wearing left in a pile beside her own clothes on the beach. 

“The water’s colder than I remember,” Zuko called out to her, just as she dove beneath the waves once more. 

“It was definitely like this when we were young, we were just stubborn,” (Y/N) laughed. Zuko swam over to her. She stood on her toes as the water came to her shoulders, but it only reached Zuko’s chest. “Your hair is still dry,” She pointed out and Zuko rolled his eyes, plugging his nose and dipping beneath the surface for a few seconds. When he came back up, he was significantly closer to (Y/N) than he had been before. 

“Is that better?” He asked, shaking out his hair so water droplets splashed on her face. She laughed and shoved him backward to get him to stop. 

He staggered backwards and grabbed her by the arm, pulling her under with him. (Y/N) opened her eyes beneath the waves, feeling the familiar stinging sensation that had been a staple of her childhood. Zuko’s eyes were closed as he held his breath. He had never gotten used to opening his eyes underwater, it had seemed. 

(Y/N) pulled them up toward the surface, both inhaling a sharp breath of air. As she went to settle on her feet, she bobbed beneath the waves. They had traveled much farther from the shore than she had expected. 

Zuko reached out for her, wrapping his arm around her middle to keep her above the water. He could still stand, which (Y/N) hated. “The last time we swam here, I was taller than you,” (Y/N) said, staring up at him. He smiled down at her, the corner of his eyes crinkling. The skin of his scar tried to repeat the action of its counterpart, but it couldn’t quite do it. 

(Y/N) couldn’t keep her eyes off of his scar. She knew it wasn’t entirely polite, but she was curious. He had left the Fire Nation before it had healed. When they encountered each other, she was never very close to him. Even at the party, she had only seen it up close for a few seconds. 

“I’ve never seen it this close,” She told him, her voice as soft as the moonlight that surrounded them. Zuko’s cheeks flushed. 

“It’s pretty bad, huh?” His eyes were trained on her, but she wasn’t noticing. She furrowed her brows and shook her head.

“I like it,” She said simply. It was Zuko’s turn to furrow his brows. 

“You can’t be serious.” (Y/N) shrugged, lifting her right hand to touch his cheek like she had wanted to at the party. Zuko stiffened and nearly dropped her into the ocean. Her thumb, light as a feather, traced over the pink and red skin. Some areas felt smooth and silky, while others were rougher. She traced over the brow bone where his eyebrow had once been. 

His eyes fell to her forearm, where his father’s punishment was still healing on her skin. He wrapped his fingers around her arm, lightly tracing the word with his own thumb. 

“For the record,” He said, eyes still focused on her arm. “I don’t think you’re a traitor.” 

A few moments passed before he looked up at her again. Her eyes were soft, sparkling in the reflection of the moonlight that bounced off of the water. The corners of her lips were turned upward in a soft smile. Her hand remained cupping the side of the face and Zuko sighed, leaning into her touch. 

“You’re really beautiful,” She told him, stroking his scar once more. “I don’t think I ever told you that.” Her heart was beating so hard against her chest. This was the stupid power that Zuko had over her. She had been so mad at him just a few hours ago, but if she allowed it, he wormed his way back into her heart. 

Zuko’s eyes widened in surprise at her statement. He parted his lips to say something, but no words would come to mind. She dizzied him, jumbled his thoughts until he was a mess of unspoken words and dumbfounded faces. 

It was slow as it happened, thoughtful. He rested his forehead against hers, their noses just barely touching as he stared at her through half-lidded eyes. He would give her time. If she wanted to pull away, she would. 

She didn’t. Her other hand took its place on his bicep, fingers curling gently into his skin. Her lips parted, her lashes batting upward as she stared into his amber eyes. Zuko was all that she could see and feel. Her heart continued to pound against her chest. If he wanted to do something, he would. 

Zuko’s eyes fluttered shut as he closed the distance between them, capturing her lips in a kiss. They were softer than he had ever imagined. The little gasp she let out made him pull her closer. He didn’t want any space between them. His hand left its place at her arm and traveled up to where she caressed his cheek, wrapping his fingers around her palm. 

(Y/N’s) eyes had remained open for a split second before she closed them, pressing into Zuko as she kissed back. She was completely thoughtless. Everything else in the world was absent as she melted into him, the hand at his arm moving to the back of his neck to pull him toward her even more. She had thought of this moment many times, but nothing could compare to the warmth that encompassed her heart as she kissed Zuko. 

When they pulled apart for air, it was as if (Y/N) had been pulled back into the real world. She stared at Zuko, her eyes wide as she realized what they had just done. 

“Mai,” They said at the same time, horrified looks reaching both of their faces. (Y/N) hated herself. She had gotten caught up in the moment and taken something that didn’t belong to her. (Y/N) scrambled out of Zuko’s arms. 

“We don’t speak of this ever again,” She told him, her voice stern. Zuko nodded silently. “This was a mistake. That’s all it was.” With that, she dove into the waves, swimming as fast as she could back to the shore. 

---

She avoided Zuko during the rest of their time at Ember Island, and once they had returned to the palace as well. If they ended up in the same corridor, one of them would turn around and walk back from where they had come from. It made (Y/N’s) heart ache, but she knew it was for the best. She felt horrible for doing something like that to Mai. She didn’t know what had become of her, and now she didn’t trust herself to be around Zuko at all. 

So, she focused on her mission. Every little snippet that she heard walking through the hallways would be recorded on a scroll, which would then be kept on her person at all times. She had witnessed on more than one occassion Azula leaving her room and looking particularly pleased with herself. (Y/N) would never leave anything incriminating lying around.

Still, she needed to figure out how to get a message to Sokka. The palace had messenger hawks, but she needed to know where to send one and she had absolutely no idea where her friends were. The Day of the Black Sun was the next day. To (Y/N), it seemed as though her best bet would be to leave the mainland quickly and rendezvous with one of the groups they had recruited for the invasion. If she could steal one of the palace’s boats, she could row herself to one of the islands off the coast and either find someone she knew or find someone who knew how to get a message out. 

Guards were not posted outside of her doors during the day, so (Y/N) made a hasty knapsack from one of her robes and began shoving a few belongings in it. Bread she had sneaked from the kitchens, a piece of parchment and a pen, and a map all fit securely inside. She was packing it once more when her door opened suddenly and she yelped, scrambling to cover her belongings with her bedsheets. 

“I need to tell you something,” Zuko said as he shut the door behind her. (Y/N) felt her face heat up. 

“You can’t be in here!” She hissed, reaching forward to shove Zuko out of her room. The last thing she needed was Azula seeing them alone together. She would undoubtedly tell Mai, which would cause more problems than (Y/N) needed on her last day in the Fire Nation. 

“Just wait a second!” Zuko demanded, keeping his voice low. “I just got out of one of my father’s war meetings. They’re planning to burn down the towns of those who haven’t surrendered yet.” 

(Y/N) halted her movements of trying to get him out of her room. She eyed him warily. “What does that have to do with me?” 

“I know you’ve been working with the Avatar.” (Y/N’s) body stiffened, but she rolled her eyes. 

“This again. Zuko, I already told you--” 

“You don’t have to lie to me anymore. I know that’s the real reason you’re here is to get information for your friends. I can’t let my father or Azula do this. I want to help you.” 

(Y/N) narrowed her eyes. “How do you know?”

“I know you wouldn’t come back unless you had a really good reason. As soon as I heard you say that they were suspicious of you, I knew that was a lie. I saw how you guys were with each other. They care about you.” 

(Y/N) swallowed. In a whisper, she said, “I’m leaving tonight. I can tell them about this before--” 

“The invasion,” Zuko finished. “My father and Azula know about that, too.” 

(Y/N) felt as if the wind had been knocked out of her. Everything that they had been working so hard for would be for nothing. She had to get to her friends and let them know they had been exposed. “I need to leave now.” She moved to go back to her knapsack, but Zuko grabbed her by the arm. 

“They’re suspicious of you, too. If they catch you, it’ll be much worse than a burn.” 

“I can’t just stay here and watch my friends fail!” 

“I have a plan,” Zuko assured her. “You just have to trust me.” 

(Y/N) eyed him. His hand still held her arm. Zuko stared up at her. She had never seen him look so sincere. With a deep breath, she nodded. 

---

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[chrstbll]

miracles and lucky days| ben hargreeves

(gif not mine) 

+tags: @lalisbitch @spaceclone-mom , @meowmeowrex23 @strangeyouthcrusade

plot: after coming back from the 60’s, instead of finding the sparrow academy, the group come face to face with a much more positive outcome of their actions.

                                                           -

The words of Klaus were diluted, inaudible and ringing loudly in your head. Your limbs could barely hold the weight of your body, and the nausea from jumping between timelines hitting your stomach didn’t quite put you at ease. All was blurry at first, not hearing nor seeing properly caused you to feel light-headed as well, but before your legs or your mind gave in, somebody strong arms held you up protectively.

- Are you good? – Diego’s gentle call for you brought you back to reality. He was always a little bit concerned about you. He didn’t show it in great actions, it was in the seemingly unimportant things he did for you. There wasn’t anything romantic involved between you two, instead of that it was a deep understanding of each another that made you appreciate the other significantly. You nodded to confirm that you were in fact all right, shrugging it off with a smile.

Klaus was right. After you successfully registered what he was saying, a wave of relief washed over your heart, mind, and soul. Your whole being. For once, all seven of you managed to successfully jump back to 2019 without any harm or mistake being done. It was quite unbelievable. A dreamlike scenario which proved itself to be nearly impossible to believe. Looking around the hall, everything seemed to be all right. It felt okay. The aura was intimately comforting, yet something was amiss. Different. Changed. It certainly was not a malicious ambiance that you discovered, but one new, something yet unexperienced thing. The others noticed it too, as all six of them were looking around suspiciously. Memories, feelings, and people rapidly invaded your mind, those you haven’t thought about a lot. Pogo? Grace? Are they okay now?

Luther suggested to enter the living room ahead of you, so that’s what you all mutually agreed to. Five was the one who went further on before you heroically and begged all of you to proceed with caution, because we don’t know what’s waiting for us there. The walk from the hall to the living room happened painfully slowly given that the feeling of uncertainty was sitting in one and all’s eyes and was at fault for your lack of speed. Upon realizing the academy was unnervingly noiseless, the anxiety birthed a huge lump in your throat, which you couldn’t swallow. Your heart was terrified from the possible negative outcome of this time jump. What if that moment of clarity and amenity was only a façade and was only felt because none of you faced reality in the short but drunk moment of arrival? Sometimes you thought about how nice it would be to just live without worry. To live in pure bliss, without a care in the world. Without a problem in the universe to solve. How astonishing it would be not to recall what loss, trauma, or sadness feels like. But then again, we would live in ignorance that way.

Turning towards the divans and sculptures in the living room, your attention automatically focused on the small moving figure, who was absentmindedly cleaning the shelves with dusting feathers. Recognition hit you like a truck, as the character of an ape appeared before you. Your breath hitched in your throat. Mercifully, it was a positive reaction, a sentiment you haven’t undergone in a long time.

- Pogo?! – Allison was the first one to call out their siblings’ friends’ name. Barely letting his name roll from her tongue, the sea of emotions instantly overthrew her, and tears stormed down her face. Their beloved guardian turned around in shock, he looked so puzzled, it was as he didn’t recognize the people in front of him. You feared that was the case. What if we screwed it up even more?

- Oh, children. I was waiting for you all to return – he’s spoken politely and gifted us with a kind smile, just like he always did. You almost forgot what a courteous and caring figure Pogo was. His scarce although deep voice reminded you of simpler times. A type of nostalgia which you subconsciously yearned for god knows how long. Everyone gathered around him in a matter of seconds, engulfing him in a suffocating hug. Pogo was still bewildered from the sudden act of affection, as you all were from seeing him alive and breathing, but in this instant of happiness, the questions why and how didn’t matter. What mattered was the present minute, what you currently knew as is.

And next, a voice broke the silence.

Who would dare to turn around first? Who wanted to confirm that the voice that was just heard from behind them, came from a legit source? On a serious note, was it even real? Your minds are only playing tricks on you. You were ecstatic for having Pogo back, but it would be too good to be true to turn around and see the possessor of the voice. We can’t have all the wonderful things. It never went that well for you. Your bodies turned stiff, and your feet were frozen on spot. But what made you fear to turn around? The horror of hearing something that’s not truly there or facing it bravely. Something…someone you haven’t faced in roughly two decades.

- What the hell took you guys so long? – the annoyance sounded so raw, hence genuine. You could hear and understand the words crystal clear; then why didn’t you believe your ears?

The group hug disassembled at a snail's pace and turned to face what they never expected to see ever again in their lifetime. You, on the other hand, had secretly wished for a moment like this. Your heart was aching for the chance, not caring about being rational nor delusional. It kept the faith in your soul steady.

- Please, tell me I’m not the only one who can see him – Klaus muttered.

- Ben – Diego confirmed in a hushed tone without letting out any more words as he didn’t need to. He was the bravest out of all of you to speak up.

So, there he stood in his monochrome outfit, with his black leather jacket hugging his form and a coy smile painted all over his face. The faint rosy cheeks, lively eyes and vivid emotions displayed told you everything. The Ben standing in front of you was very much real, and more importantly, alive, and well.

- All of you look like you’ve seen a ghost – he grinned from ear to ear, and his light-hearted joke legitimately freed your body from the tension which held you in your place so aggressively. Number Four didn’t hesitate one second longer, and slammed himself against his brother, who sweetly returned the embrace. Registering it, savouring it, then finally loving the physical contact, Klaus broke up in a hysterical laughter. The group succeeded to pull the strings in a way his death was luckily prevented. How the hell did we manage this? But he didn’t care. All that mattered was the present minute, what he currently knew as is.

- You’re telling me, man – his laugh slowly started to die down, but his joy only rose. Of course, a group hug was crucially needed and initiated effective immediately. Everyone surrounded him, and you held onto each other tightly, so he never slips away from your grasp again. You admitted it to yourself, that it felt heavenly, but more precisely, it felt so damn terrific. The others eventually backed away, but you stayed right in front of him.

- Hey, you – were all he needed to say for you to go flying into his arms – Where have you been? I missed you – his confession was a simple, warm, and loving anecdote, and it broke your heart in the best way possible.

You missed me?

Your loud sobbing, and ocean of tears was baffling and a mystery to him, and he looked at the others with a perplexed expression. They asked him to just let you be because they understood everything perfectly. Each tear was valid and every one of them had a reason. His arms were wrapped around your body, as he was shielding you from all the cruelty in this world. His embrace wasn’t tight, but fond and sensitive enough. You weren’t greedy at all; it was just all too marvellous. Hearing his stable beating heart as he held you close to his chest completely fulfilled you. A featherlight kiss was tenderly placed on your forehead by him, in an attempt to calm you down. It failed, as more droplets of salty water coated your apple-like cheeks. Even so, the kiss was given so compassionately, it must have come from heaven itself.

Maybe you were in Heaven. Maybe your life ended when you arrived in the hall. This isn’t real and I’m probably dead in Diego’s arms by now. But what if you accepted it as your reality now? You couldn’t believe it, even after feeling his touch and his kiss on your body. It might be because you thought you didn’t think your wish to see the person closest to your heart again would ever come true. After the horrific months you went through, it was certainly an impossibility to be gifted with something this enormous, significant, and joyous.

Maybe miracles and lucky days exist. Maybe they existed both on the same day in favour of you. I’ll accept this, I deserve this. You absolutely deserve to be happy and to drop the burden that’s been weighing on your soul for years. Nobody deserves to live their lives in inescapable guilt and grief. Having Ben back in all your lives meant the world to you. You were thinking about how you might have to fill him in on the details of the previous events, but that was a case for a later part of the day. For now, it was nice to bask in his love and warmth. You’ll care about every other issue later. This was the only feeling that mattered in that moment. Peace finally taking its rightful place back in your heart, which has been waiting for it for a long time now. He radiated pureness, an energy which was incomparable to anything else. Clutching his jacket was your anxiety making sure he doesn’t leave again. Maybe he was reading your thoughts, but at the same time he was realizing he’d never leave you even if it meant his life.

- I missed you too.

[aspoonofsugar]

The “One” Divided Into “Two”

Hello anons, hello friend,

these asks can be answered together!

First of all:

Hello! I just want to say that I love your RWBY metas! So I'm wondering, have you ever done metas about Emerald and Mercury?

Thank you! And yes, I have written a little bit about Mercury and Emerald here. I would also recommend this wonderful meta by @hamliet because it has an interesting Mercury theory in it.

Now. this answer is gonna mix some analysis with speculation because Emerald and Mercury’s story must still enter its climax. Once it does and we are given a specific interpretative key I will be happy to write more metas on them!

I’ll start with this:

Those two are so out of place in Salem's faction and the last look they share made me doubt that Mercury is rotten to the core and more of a kid who didnt know what he's in for. Since Em has switched sides, is it possible that Merc might follow? I really like him, so I'm hoping that he won't go down like Watts.

In my opinion, yes and here is why.

CHILDREN LOST IN A NARRATIVE

1) Emerald and Mercury have been child-coded since their first appearance:

Roman: Oh, look! She sent the kids again! This is turning out just like the divorce!

2) Both have received a save the cat moment early on:

Emerald: It's almost sad.

Mercury: Emerald, get up, we need to go. (...) Emerald!

Both child-coding and save the cat moments are often used to make characters more sympathetic and this applies to both Emerald and Mercury, even more so than Cinder.

This is why, for example, the major death they are directly involved in:

turns out to be a temporary one.

As a side note, I like thinking of Emerald and Mercury as the Cat and the Fox in Penny’s story since they act as false friends to the main cast, betray them and cause Penny’s first death. Moreover, in the novel, both characters end up suffering consequences for their life-styles. The two murder kids are the same:

At the same time, details about Emerald and Mercury’s backgrounds and motivations are given to the viewers pretty early on:

We are shown Cinder recruiting both and these scenes clearly paint them as two vulnerable kids that get manipulated and groomed:

Raven: Two children you’ve tricked into following you.

Emerald is presented as a scaredy cat and Cinder wins her over by promising the bare minumum aka some security and basic care.

Mercury is given even less aka a narrative to keep himself together:

Cinder: And you're his son. We saw your fight from the treeline. He's taught you well.

Mercury: Guess so.

Cinder: What's your name?

Mercury: Mercury.

Cinder: Mercury... Tell me, are you anything like your father?

Mercury: All my life, my father trained me to be a killer, an assassin like him. And then moments after I killed him, you two showed up looking for someone with my exact skills. Just felt like it was meant to be.

Cinder praises his abilities and frames his trauma as something that makes him strong, not broken. And Mercury has completely embraced this narrative since then.

In short, Emerald and Mercury are framed as two kids lost in an illusory narrative Cinder has crafted. That said, they are also characters in a proper narrative and they are given sympathetic backgrounds and positive qualities that hint they can be better than they currently are.

In particular, Emerald should overcome her emotional dependence on others to make the right thing:

In both volume 3 and volume 8 she is shown the destruction of a city. However, the first time she puts distance between herself and others’ pain, as symbolically conveyed by her looking from above. In volume 8, though, she is shown the same pain up close and she can’t ignore it anymore. This is why the others drag Emerald towards the people crying and light invades the screen when she finally meets the sheltered crew. She is forced to face an uncomfortable truth she wants to ignore.

Mercury should instead let himself depend on others more. He should open up to others and fight for his one positive bond:

Mercury: Back off, freak.

Which leads us to:

What do you like most about Emerald and Mercury's relationship and bond as it is explored in RWBY?

EMERCURY: COMPLEMENTARITY

Emerald and Mercury’s bond being a key one is conveyed both symbolically and in terms of their respective abilities.

When it comes to their abilities, I have written about it in the meta linked above:

In short, Emerald mostly relies on her semblance, while Mercury mostly relies on his legs and fighting prowess.

This detail adds to the idea that Emerald and Mercury have been acting as a unit and have been complementing each other. Emerald acts as the “soul” and Mercury as the “body”.

The soul is one’s personal essence (like the semblance). It is where (once again) wishes reside. The body is what protects the soul and is animated by instincts and self-survival.

They complement each other. This complementarity is shown in Emerald and Mercury’s fights.

In the Vytal festival, Mercury takes on both Coco and Yatsuhashi for a short while, so that Emerald can size her chance to fight Coco at her own terms (and she wins by using her semblance).

In the Battle of Heaven, Emerald uses her semblance to help Mercury fight and, in a sense, she compensates for his lack of one:

The human soul is about wishes, but also duties:

Penny: I feel like I wish I could do both the things I need to do and the things I want to do. Is that normal?

One must accept their feelings, but also struggle with them:

Winter: But yes Penny, we must still acknowledge our personal feelings, wrestle with them. It ensures us that we’re on the right path. It’s what makes us human.

And must do the right thing out of their own free will:

Winter: Penny. The general is making hard choices so we don’t have to.

This is Emerald’s personal struggle. She must let go of her feelings for Cinder and fight her own fear in order to do the right thing.

The human body lets people feel both others’ warmth:

And others’ cruelty:

However, Mercury refuses to feel both. He refuses to truly process his own trauma and pushes his feelings of care for Emerald away:

As far as their symbolism goes, they are linked in at least three different ways.

1) One of the attributes of the Roman god Mercury is that he is the protector of thieves and Emerald’s surname capitalized means thief. What is more:

Mercury: Ooh, Emerald! Master thief! Please don't take my money! I barely have enough to get by!

2) Mercury/Hermes is also the god of alchemy and the one who wrote the Emerald Tablet aka a tablet with the truth of alchemy on it. You, @hamliet​, have written a meta on it, so I won’t add more.

3) According to at least some traditions, emerald is the gemstone associated with the planet Mercury.

So, it is clear the two characters are meant to be important in each other’s arcs.

Let’s now look at Emerald and Mercury’s bond, as it is explored through their interactions.

Mercury clearly cares about Emerald and gets along well with her. She is the only person he shows vulnerability to.

This is what their scene in Lost is about:

Emerald: Why did you come with us, the night Cinder and I found you?

Mercury: Why are you asking--

Emerald: Just answer the question.

Emerald is trying to open herself up and wants Mercury to open up too. This is why she gets annoyed when Mercury gives her a superficial answer. Still, in that conversation, Mercury is genuinelly trying to answer Emerald’s feelings:

Mercury: I'm sorry you didn't have a mommy that loved you, but I had a father who hated me! He never went easy on me! Every day of training was a beating. And when I unlocked my Semblance, he stole it with his! "This is a crutch!" "This makes you weak!" He told me I could have it back when I was strong. So I got strong, but I never got it back! I've had to work harder than anyone to get where I am. You may not like it here without Cinder, but I think I'm right where I'm supposed to be!

Here, Mercury is telling Emerald details of his past he would not be sharing if he did not trust her. He can’t let himself be completely vulnerable, though, so he discloses them by lashing out at Emerald. He mixes violence with authentic vulnerability and also with care:

Mercury: Cinder doesn't care about you! She doesn't care about either of us!

He has seen how self-destructive Emerald can get when it comes to Cinder:

And he is trying to have Emerald move on from her obsession.

However, Mercury’s small steps towards opening up and caring for another person are constantly challenged:

Tyrian: Oh yes, the world is mean, and I'm a big, bad man now just like the others.

Mercury: How long have you been standing there?!

The moment he opens up to Emerald, Tyrian appears to threathen and mock him.

Mercury’s positive development lies in accepting his own feelings of pain and in sharing them with others, so that he can be helped. However, the environment he is in goes in the way of it:

Emerald: Mercury, I wanted to...

Here, Emerald is trying to either apologize to Mercury for their fight or to at least check out on him. Still, Mercury is not listening to her because he is too frightened by what Salem is doing.

Mercury’s current struggle is conveyed in a nutshell by the glance he gives to his left in Midnight:

Is he looking at Emerald out of concern?

Or at Salem out of caution?

It is not clear. Still, what is sure is that Mercury should focus on Emerald, but Salem goes in the way. He deep down wants to care about others, but he is too scared to do so:

Tyrian: All you ever learned was pain and violence, and now you're too afraid to leave it. Such a tragedy.

At the same time, Mercury is for Emerald what she has been looking for in Cinder:

Emerald: We don't need him! Everything was going fine!

She initially refuses him, but it is clear that with time Mercury becomes the thing most similar to a family Emerald has:

She has been so fixated on Cinder and on how she can be worthy of Cinder’s love that she has missed how much Mercury has tried to protect her all along.

This is why Hazel is important for Emerald’s development:

Hazel: No more Gretchens, boy.

His sacrifice is about breaking his personal cycle of pain. His story starts with Gretchen dying when she was only a girl and it ends with him preventing another girl’s death. At the same time, he also helps breaking the cyle of abuse between Emerald and Cinder.

Emerald is told the truth about her relationship with Cinder by Mercury. Moreover, it seems something finally clicks for her here:

She observes Salem’s manipulation of Cinder and understands Cinder has been manipulating her in the same way.

However, it is thanks to Hazel’s sacrifice that Emerald sees what a genuine parental bond should be like. It should be about the parent protecting the child:

Hazel: What Gretchen would have done. And that starts with getting you away from here. Both of you.

And not the child protecting the parent:

Emerald: I know I can’t beat you. But I can fill that thing full of holes before you take me down.

It should be about the parent caring for the child unconditionally:

Hazel: Go.

And not about the child working hard to gain a parent’s love:

Cinder: You… You brought me back here. We failed.

Emerald: Cinder, you were hurt. I was just trying to help.

At the same time, Hazel’s death has taught Emerald the pain of losing a loved one:

And has forced Emerald to stand on her own two legs:

Oscar: I've seen what you can do, Emerald. However this fight ends, we could really use someone like you.

She can’t be protected forever, but she should start protecting others. She is powerful enough to do so and she must accept this responsibility.

So

I think Emerald could be key to Mercury's redemption

I think so too. Emerald saving Mercury is the perfect objective for her personal arc. It forces her to act as the savior instead of the one being saved.

Moreover, Mercury told her the truth about herself:

Mercury: You're in denial.

So Emerald might do the same for Mercury. This would also fit with her being the Emerald Tablet. The Tablet is written by Mercury to convey the truth to the world. Here, it might very well be the inverse: the Emerald Tablet might convey the truth to Mercury.

In general, Mercury and Tyrian’s foiling has to pay off, just like Emerald and Hazel’s:

The set-up is there for Tyrian and Mercury’s subplot to be about breaking cycles as well. Mercury’s story is about a child left alone with his abuser. Nobody comes to save him, so Mercury is forced to save himself by killing Marcus. Still, this only leads to him being stuck in the idea he is nothing, but an extension of his father. Right now, the cycle is repeating, but it is possible this time things will go differently because there is at least one person who cares about him.

Not only that, but (and this is nothing, but a baseless theory) even Qrow (aka a character who has unfinished business with Tyrian) might be a thematic fit to help Mercury:

Mercury: Bad hair, used a scythe, and smelled like my dad after a long day. It was him.

After all, Mercury himself draws a comparison between Qrow and his father since they are both alcoholic. However, Qrow has started a journey of rehabilitation for the sake of his nieces and their friends.

Qrow sees himself as bad for others and fundamentally unlucky because of his background and his semblance. So, his third fight with Tyrian being about saving a kid, who, in a sense, is even less lucky than him and has no semblance might be thematically fitting.

Despite it all, Qrow found a family and a place to belong and he might help Mercury find his (Emerald) as well.

SEMBLANCE OF THE SELF

Got no gun But I gleam like a blade and I'm harder than iron

Delusion I'll steal til your blind and defeat you from inside your mind

Emerald’s best weapon is her semblance, while Mercury’s semblance was stolen, so he could become a weapon.

This difference symbolizes their respective reactions to abuse.

Emerald uses her illusions as a coping mechanism.

This mechanism is well conveyed in CEM’s fight against Amber:

On one hand, Emerald creates a child version of herself who is well dressed and owns a bike. It is a rich version of Emerald because she must think that is the kind of child others would stop by to help. She does not believe she is likable or lovable. This is why she makes an illusory alter-ego, which is both true (she deep down is a crying child) and false (she is a street rat with nothing).

In general, this is Emerald’s way to approach others:

Emerald: Just left the stadium after your amazing fight! You guys were awesome!

Ren: Because she's scared. Just like us..

Emerald: Or maybe because I know how to get out of here. Anybody coming?

She either fakes an overly friendly demeanor or acts tougher than she is. In any case, she hides her true self.

On the other hand, Emerald is symbolically trapping herself in an illusion together with Amber. Amber can’t see the dangerous thief in front of her, but Emerald too can’t see the generous woman who is offering food to a crying child:

Cinder: Follow me, and you’ll never be hungry again.

Cinder promises Emerald food and love and this lie makes the girl unable  to see the genuine article when it is right there.

So Emerald tricks both others and herself. This is how she survives abuse.

This is why she keeps believing in Cinder while she is gone:

Emerald: You’re here! I knew you’d co--

And this is why symbolically her semblance grows stronger in an abusive environment:

Emerald: I’ve been working on my Semblance. I can help. I won’t tell anybody.

Salem: You really have been honing that Semblance of yours.

After all, this is when Emerald gets a “power-up”:

She has just lost Cinder and finds herself stuck with Salem. Her reaction is to have a breakdown and to project an illusion in the minds of nine people, when she had previously stated she could only do one/two minds at most.

Mercury weaponizes his trauma.

This is why his legs are Mercury’s true weapon, while Talaria is there just to cover and embellish the pain and ugliness under it.

Mercury fights Amber with only its bare legs because symbolically his trauma is still fresh and he has yet to work out a structured coping mechanism to it. His meeting with Cinder is the first step in this construction that evolves in the following months and is still evolving:

In CEM’s fight against Amber, Mercury uses his unfeeling legs to whitstand the violence of the elements:

Fire

Earth and Water

Air

He goes through the whole cycle without feeling any pain simply because his trauma has made him unfeeling:

I'm the one That was ripped from the earth and exposed to the sun

Marcus has literally turned Mercury into Iron:

But I gleam like a blade and I'm harder than iron

Still, the point is that mercury as a metal is not as hard as iron, but (in the alchemical scale of metals) is way more refined and closer to gold. Mercury can be better than his father, but his way to survive abuse is to repress himself.

This is why his semblance was stolen by his abuser. It is because abuse has taken away Mercury’s personhood.

So, both Emerald and Mercury face abuse by masking or repressing themselves. The difference is a matter of degree. Mercury can suppress his emotions and needs more, while Emerald can’t.

Theirs is a foiling about feeling too much to the point of self-harm and of feeling too little to the point of negation.

So, Emerald must struggle with her feelings not to be controlled by them, while Mercury must aknowledge them.

Emerald’s Hallucinations is a Semblance of The Self because it hides both Emerald herself and the truth.

This is interesting because, as stated above, the Emerald Tablet should convey the truth about alchemy. However, Emerald’s environment has turned her into an inversion of herself:

I'm the one Who rose out of filth and was loved by no-one

She is a gemstone, but is currently covered in dirt. She needs to polish herself, so she can shine and fit better in her allusion.

Mercury’s stolen semblance is a Semblance of The Self because it is linked to Mercury’s self-expression, which he must claim back.

Until then, he is bound to be stuck in an abusive cycle as nothing, but a weapon.

In general, there is some symbolism around Mercury which needs unpacking:

Mercury quoting Marcus:"This is a crutch!" "This makes you weak!"

Firstly, he has clearly interiorized what his father told him here. He refuses the idea of weakness and crutches to the point that his prosthetics, which are literal crutches get turned into weapons and even covered by other weapons. However, this refusal of crutches means Mercury can’t heal. After all, crutches, bandages and treatment are necessary to become healthy once again.

Secondly, there is this: 

I'll run circles round ya, I can touch the sky

The God Mercury’s main attribute is that he can overcome any boundary. He can go wherever he wants in no time. However, Mercury is the opposite because no matter what, he can’t leave his abusive environment. This has to do once again with his father’s abuse which culminated with Marcus taking Mercury’s legs. This is symbolically why Mercury is trapped.

Like for Emerald, Mercury’s arc should be about growing into his allusion, so that he can finally be free.

Still, how to turn Emerald and Mercury in the positive versions of their allusions? The answer has to do with this question:

(I think Emerald could be key to) maybe Cinder's (redemption) too

I’M THE ONE

Emerald and Mercury are two parts of the individual (body and soul) and two parts of a Huntsman (semblance and weapon):

Ren: A common philosophy is that a warrior's Semblance is a part of who they are.

Ruby: Just weapons? They're an extension of ourselves! They're a part of us! Oh, they're so cool.

Together they make a unit. Together they make Cinder. They are two sides of her trauma, her two sins:

Emerald: Actually, I was wondering, do you have any copies of "The Thief and The Butcher"?

And the wounds behind those sins.

This is why Cinder takes them in, but also why she abuses them.

She uses them as weapons:

In CEM’s fight against Amber she lets them go in first and has them take the majority of Amber’s hits.

Not only that, but she uses them as “red herrings” she hides behind.

She acts as if Amber’s blow takes her out of the fight, while Amber focuses on Mercury who resists her attack:

She has Emerald display her semblance at full force, so that the girl becomes Amber’s first target:

She makes her own illusion where Emerald and Mercury are her smokescreen.

However, her two disciples are not just things she can use as she pleases. They are two people who depend on her:

Mercury: You mean--

Emerald: She's alive?

They are literally two kids she takes in framing their relationship as parental/hierarchical hence she is responsible for them.

However, she fails them and leaves them in a dangerous environment. This is why they both leave her out of self-survival.

Narratively, Emerald and Mercury are two kids that must grow up. Right now, they are in some kind of adolescent phase. They have started their emancipation from their “parent”, but they have still to grow until they’ll be able to truly face Cinder.

It will probably be in this confrontation that they will affirm their growth. Right now, Cinder does not need to be coddled, but to be called out. Both Neo and Watts try to, but Cinder ignores them and retaliates against them. She needs a call out she can’t ignore and Emerald and Mercury are too rooted in who she deep down is for her to be unaffected by them.

At the same time, it would mark Mercury and Emerald’s first step into adulthood. Only then they can stop being a “half” and can truly become “one”, so a whole person.

[yandere-society]

Moonlight

Pairing: Taehyung x Female Reader

Synopsis: Taehyung was a man of many things: handsome, young, rich, the reigning lord of the Kim manor. He was a man adored, a man respected. But beneath the studly exterior, he held a dark, demonic secret that floated towards the surface once every full moon. It was this secret that would unknowingly entangle you in his claws until there was no way out.

Word Count: 7.2k

Warnings: Yandere themes, Possessive Tae, Werewolves, Kidnapping mention, Sexual assault, Murder, Death, also it’s unedited cause I hate myself

Headline: Beast Of The Night Strikes Again! 2 Dead, Several Injured

Admin: @roses-ruby​

_

The town suffers through another full moon of terror as the one described as the ‘dog beast’ struck again late last night. Lawmen are baffled at the carnage, describing the victims torn limbs and missing hearts as an act- “most definitely inhumane.” Townsfolk have stated that they heard the creature growl and moan for hours on end until it seemingly disappeared near the Kim manor. As for the owner of the manor, Kim Taehyung - an attractive bachelor who inherited his great grandfather’s land - refused to comment and dismissed the claims of such a being as “ludicrous and delusional.” Whatsoever it may be, the fact of the matter is that there is someone or something raging with bloodlust every time the moon shines its brightest and it might just be out for your heart next.

“It is truly incredible how some of the most credible news sources have begun to sound so half-witted these days… ‘attractive bachelor?’ Seems like you’re up for auction in the middle of this tragic incident…”

“It is a small town with unusually large tales…they’ll do anything to sell their trashy story…” He runs his fingers through his long black locks, a small huff of irritation leaving his lips.

“A story that will keep children up past midnight I’m sure…” The older gentleman places today’s paper back on the table and walks up to where the younger stood, matching his distant stare out the window. “The flowers were exceptionally beautiful in this year’s bloom. Such a shame they’ll be dead soon.”

It was a passive observation, one he didn’t have to respond to; however, it was his nature to always hold a firm stance on even the slightest of interactions. He hums in agreement, gazing out towards the colorfully green garden that his study overlooked. But rather than admiring the beauty of the large field, his eyes were instead hooked on a small figure bustling about the grounds in a long black dress.

“Master,” A calm voice interrupted him from his trance, “Shall I adjust your schedule in case you were to head into town today?”

His long-time butler, Seung, bowed quietly in his direction.

“No need.” He replies mindlessly.

“Now, now,” His uncle next him chuckled, the wrinkles around his eyes deepening, “It would do you good to show your handsome bust among the public. Your presence as Lord might provide some comfort…”

As if he should be the one comforting weeping mothers and terrified children.

He was about to decline the smiling face of this man who bore him nothing but animosity, but he was interrupted by his uncle’s careless gaze suddenly modifying into something additionally sinister.

“Or is it that you’re too tired for such a simple task? You look as if you have not slept in ages. Are you doing alright, perhaps?”

Other than the shiver that ran down Taehyung’s spine at his foxiness, he was unfazed by the weighty question. Usually, his feigned concern would make him chuckle, if he wasn’t so emotionally exhausted from last night’s events.

“I’m fine.” He turns to Seung without missing a beat, “Uncle is right. Get the carriage ready, I will be heading into town today.”

“Yes, Master.” Seung bows, but before he could quietly leave the room, Taehyung calls for him again. “And get my Uncle’s carriage ready for departure as well. I am sure at his age he would love nothing more than to be resting at home this very moment.”

There was a small confrontational silence between the senior and him after his loaded remark. But it vanished the very next second when his Uncle began to chuckle loudly, as if there was nothing but mirth between the two of them.

“You are right on the mark, young lad. As sharp as ever I see.” He spins around, walking back to the table he once sat at “I shall be out of your hair soon.”

Taehyung watches him as he picks up the paper he had been scrutinizing before he commences his departure from the chamber.

“Are you perhaps interested in the dog beast?”

“Why, not at all,” He responds calmly, turning to the younger with the same somber expression as before, “I just need some entertainment for the road. Surely, you don’t mind?”

He did not. For now, he desired his uncle’s departure the most. It was not as if he could see his own forthcoming demise stained in the ink of that paper.

Autumn’s cool breeze surrounds your body as you tend to the large grounds of the Kim manor, trimming off uneven stems from a massive rose bush.

“___,” A frantic voice suddenly calls your name, capturing your attention as your gaze falls down onto a petite figure dressed in a similar maid’s uniform running towards you, “___! Did you hear?”

“About?”

“Today’s paper!” Seulgi spoke out of breath, like it was the most obvious thing, “Those men…aren’t they the same lads who-”

“SSHHH!” You hiss, blocking her loudmouth with your palm. Her whines against your hand were similar to that of an adolescent as you whirled your head around the garden, making sure no one was near your vicinity. “I told you not to speak a word of that!”

Seulgi successfully tugs you off of her, “I know! But is it not bizarre? That beast attacked those men!”

“There is no beast!” You growled, “Everyone in town was aware that Wan and his men were good-for-nothing hooligans! They probably wandered into the forest late at night, drunk and belligerent, and attracted a bear!”

“Hmm, perhaps…” Seulgi pouts, “But what about the articles? All those farmers who lost their cattle the same exact way… with their hearts missin-”

“I’m sure those are nothing but carnivorous rodents.” You huff in irritation, picking up the sheers to return to your work. The girl besides you threw a tantrum using her feet, and you wonder when exactly it was that you befriended such a child. “Are you even done with your station or will I have to do that for you again after the Housekeeper is done scolding you?”

This manages to scare her off, and you watch her retreating figure in slight humor before turning back to the rosebush. As you snap another set of leaves, you manage to take a glance at the window of the lord’s study, apprehensively watching his back disappear further into his room.

All you’ve wanted from this manor and its lords was a chance to toil quietly – in peace. Your simple servant status does not offend you, rather it provides you security in relations with the world. You were not interested in meddling with anyone’s affair, especially with those who lived in powerful and dangerous realities. So, it does not matter.

What you saw last night, near the clearing behind the manor does not matter. It had nothing to do with you, and you were planning on keeping it that way.

_

Lord Kim was annoyed.

Really though, when was he not? As the carriage decelerates into the gates of his estate, his exhaustion only multiplies. Faking a straight face and an empty gaze took its toll on him, even if he had been playing theater his whole life. It was hard enough to keep up with this perfect charade as the lord of the manor, but it had just gotten worse with time…and with the incidents.

He was reluctant to head into town, leer over dismembered bodies and chat with the commissioner, but did so anyway thanks to his uncle’s instigation. It wasn’t like he had much of a choice - any sign of weakness would invite his extended family to sink their teeth and claws into him, wringing him dry within a matter of minutes. His father died too early and Taehyung did not bear a successor yet, so whoever would be the first to either exhaust, kill or seduce him would eventually take his place as lord. After being unfortunate enough to witness countless amounts of cruelty from them since age eight, he knew he had to keep his farce strong.

Common folk would think he was protecting his blessed birthright. But in a deep, hidden corner of his mind, the reality loomed that neither this life nor this manor was blessed in the slightest.

“We’re home, my lord.” His thoughts are interrupted as the carriage stops, the door opening to reveal a flawlessly still Seung waiting for him to disembark.

As he exited his carriage, his shoulders drooping and head spinning, his eyes managed to fall on you in the distance. You stood far away, underneath the stone canopy of the servant’s quarters, next to that bumbling friend of yours with your head bowed as the housekeeper shouted herself silly at the both you. It seems that you have once again found trouble thanks to the petite nitwit by your side.

Yet still, even with your gaze downcast, he could sense the poise in your stance. An aura of composure and self-confidence that has never left your being no matter where you stood, or who stood over you. At first, he just happened to relate to you and the notion of keeping together a tough act. But over time, he came to realize that you weren’t acting at all – that you, a mere servant, were as perfectly assured as you seemed.

It made him envious.

“Master?” Seung pulled him back to reality.

He turned away, scuffing his expensive shoes amongst the gravel to head into the direction of his manor. Yet still, after the small sight of you, he couldn’t help but smile to himself for the first time that night.

“Dinner is served.”

A tray was lifted to reveal a large pot of thick, saucy white soup. He had wanted something light ever since the previous night, and the chef had delivered quite nicely. Taehyung sits patiently, waiting to be served as the maidservants walk into the room with the housekeeper. His eyes immediately land on you out if habit, and he wonders if you were to tend to him tonight. But to his surprise, it’s your friend who comes up to the table to oblige him his dinner instead. She takes a ladle and dips it into the soup – just a minute, she forgot to pick up his soup bowl?

Realizing she forgot the bowl; she looks startled for a bit before she hovers a hand underneath the ladle and walks closer to his direction. He has to try really hard not to burst out into a fit of laughter as he witnesses you shake in fear at her antics. Seems like he was not the only one distracted because the very next second your friend trips over her own foot on the way to his bowl and loses her grip on the soup-filled ladle, which flies towards him.

And in an instant, his whole head was wet and runny with his dinner. It was quiet for the first minute – which appeared to have stretched out into hours for the servants – until many different voices began shouting at once.

“Y-young Master! T-Towel- I shall fetch a towel!”

“MY LORD!”

“My lord! I-I-I apologize I-!”

He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. Your face was stiff in horror as you watched the creamy soup drip off his hair. Seung ran back into the room with a towel in his arm as the housekeeper bellowed at your friend.

Before Seung could wipe his hair, Taehyung held his wrist and took the towel into his own hands. Then he stood up, surprising the whole room, even the shrieking housekeeper, shut. He lightly wiped the edges of his bangs for a minute in silence, feeling the wet soup drool into his shirt before he turned towards your friend.

“Well, what a mess…” He stated absentmindedly, watching the girl shrink under his gaze until she became as small as a pebble. She seemed to be trying her utter best not to cry.

“Lord…” A soft, but confident voice interrupted the dead silence of the room. You stepped up next to your friend, your head down as you cleared your throat, “It…It is my fault actually…”

Your friend turns to you in shock. Everyone in the room was now glancing at you; the servants with petrified eyes and Taehyung with amused ones.

“Explain yourself.”

“Th-that…I spoke about the dog beast who was in today’s paper to miss Kang and…and I seem to have frightened her which is why she’s been a bit distracted…b-but it is my fault, so I deserve the punishment.”

“N-no!” You friend suddenly cries in a strained voice and you elbow her to keep shut. She opens and closes her mouth like a fish, before complying to your implication with her eyes squeezed shut tight. The servants all held their breath, waiting for the lord’s next move. They all seem to flinch when he sighs,

“…I see…” Taehyung holds in a chuckle, “You’re right miss ___, this indeed seems to be your fault…”

Seulgi quietly whines in her throat and you wish she could for once read your mind and jam her loud trap.

“…Well then,” Taehyung’s deep voice captures your full attention, “Meet me in my room an hour before midnight. I shall decide on your punishment by then.”

No one said anything further, but they all seemed to be thinking of the exact same thing. Even Seung appeared disturbed. But…it just couldn’t be… The lord has never even taken an interest in women much less bed with one. You, too astonished to remember your place, straightened your posture and stared at him straight in the eye for the very first time. There wasn’t any hint of jest or error, which left you further baffled at the Lord’s request.

No, perhaps it was just you who misunderstood.

“Y-yes Lord.” You manage to spit out.

At your approval the lord smiles, which startles you out of your insolence. You return to your humble position as the Lord begins to walk away from the room.

“Seung, prepare my bath.” Taehyung calls out in glee.

“…Yes, master…”

_

You sigh, standing in front of the thick wooden door of your Lord’s master chamber.

“Well, there goes the goal of keeping from trouble…” You whisper to yourself in defeat. And thanks to that gigantic fool Seulgi, you were late to your own punishment trial. She would not stop crying and apologizing, even though you told her it was now your problem, so she has nothing to be sorry about.

Still, the main dilemma for you in this moment was not her, but your current circumstances. Why were you called out to the Lord’s chamber an hour before midnight? The sensitive time frame would provide anyone the wrong impression, not just you. If he really were to ask you to…bed with him…what then?

You quickly shake your head no. It was not healthy for you to have such thoughts about your Lord. Since adolescence, you had been a reasonable girl who was guided by logic. There was no rationality in this idea and you’re sure Lord Kim had a good excuse for calling you out so late – an excuse that has nothing to do with...whatever you were just thinking. After pulling yourself together with a deep breath, you knock on the wood three times.

“Come in.” You immediately hear, which allows you to nervously turn the handle and push open the door.

There stood Lord Kim, by the end of the bed, in his sleepwear. His hair was a mess of slight, drooping curls, possibly the aftermath of his bath, and his stare was a lot more lax than normal. You gulped quietly under his gaze, stepping into the room and letting the door shut behind you.

“You’re late, miss ___.” His voice was deep, but soft. It felt as if he was trying to jester you.

“I-I apologize, my Lord. I was held up by the housekeeper…”

It was a lie and you did feel guilty, but it would also be immensely satisfying to witness that old witch being chided.

“My, my, it seems like she is always after you and that friend of yours,” You could hear what sounded like mischief in his tone, “Which reminds me, she came to speak to me.”

“The housekeeper?”

“No, your friend. She told me you lied for her.”

That was the last straw. You were going to kill that idiot.

“I…I…S…” What were you to say now? Should you apologize for your dishonesty?

“I think it’s commendable.” You were interrupted from your thoughts by your Lord’s words. When you meet his eyes, you see him smiling gently in your direction. “You tried to protect your friend. It takes a good heart for that.”

“Thank you, sire…” You weren’t sure how to adequately respond - if he really was complimenting you. Your uncertainty stemmed from your upbringing; rather than a trait to compensate, behaving and caring for your younger siblings was regarded as your duty. It was also why maid work came so easily to you. And Seulgi, with her childish nature yet endearing personality, reminded you of those you tended to back home, so you considered looking after her a mere responsibility.

“I do like that nature of yours.” He proceeds casually, making you blush. “But I still have to punish you for your dishonesty.”

You nod your head, eyes falling to the floor. Even without gaping at him, you were aware of how strong his gaze was. It was only natural to get disciplined as a servant, but for it to come from Lord Kim himself made you fearful.

“Miss ___, sleep with me.”

Your head whirls up to meet his stare, shock painting your face.

“W-”

“Please don’t misunderstand me.” He sighs, running a hand through his hair, “Although you’re quite beautiful, I only desire your lap.”

…

What?

“I-” Your Lord stutters, facing away from you and crossing arms in embarrassment, “I just…these days I have been having some trouble sleeping. Many peers have remarked on my dark circles and laxing attitude. This won’t do! As the Lord of the Kim manor, I have to appear fully rested and in the best condition at all times or else.”

He turns back to your direction,

“W…when I was a young lad…I would sleep on my mother’s lap. It was the most comforting of places to me and sleep was never a cause for concern back then. Which is why…I wanted to seek that same comfort once more…so that I may be able to rest heartedly and prepare myself to face the world of politics tomorrow. I just…I was wondering if I could borrow your lap for a few nights?”

It was quiet after his explanation. Your mind gradually processing all the information in his tale. He appeared to be immensely nervous, as if waiting for you to decline. You had to hide your amusement.

“I am ready for my punishment, my Lord.”

The young Lord smiles, which has your heart racing. Surely, he was a beautiful man.

“Thank you. Please sit on the bed, near my headboard.” He orders bashfully.

_

You swung another sheet over the clothing line.

Days had passed since your initial ‘punishment,’ and today would mark the first whole month of you lending your lap to your Lord. Your nightly time with the Lord had become an occurrence you cherished. There was so much you managed to learn about the man who rested on you – like how he scrunches his nose when he encounters a nightmare or how he moans only when he is in his deepest of slumbers. He was different than how you originally imagined; his cold exterior was nothing but a farce. In reality, he was so childlike and so innocent.

So different from other men.

Yes, that’s right, he was nothing like Wan. Remembering that scoundrel had you shivering in your legs from disgust. You usually didn’t have the most pleasant encounters with the men in town, but Wan had been a special case. Although you did not wish to think ill of the dead, there was nothing ever good about that man, and frankly you’re not very upset that he’s gone.

You remember the day much too clearly; it was a week before he would meet his demise. The housekeeper had sent you and Seulgi into town on a shopping errand – she wanted you to pick up meat and vegetables for dinner. It wouldn’t be the first time you went into town for a chore, but it would certainly be the most unpleasant.

As you and Seulgi stepped out of the farmer’s store carrying a load of groceries in a paper bag you held with both arms, you spotted Wan and his friends walking towards you from the opposite direction. They were cackling loudly, drunk in the middle of the day and out of their minds. You paid them no attention, ready to head back to the manor but your unwitty friend stared straight at them until Wan eventually made eye contact with her.

“Well, well, well,” He slurred in your direction, catching your gaze, “If it isn’t the whores of Kim manor!”

Because of his brash nature, everyone’s regard fell on the two of you. You tried to look unfazed by his disgusting behavior, taking Seulgi by the hand and leading her around the men. But Wan interjected your path as his friends laughed on.

“We need to get back. Leave us alone.” You stated calmly

“Why, we won’t keep you for long,” He grinned, and you recoiled from the alcohol in his breath, “Besides, they won’t miss you- them rich folk. Isn’t that right, fellas?”

His friends began to shout and woo, enclosing in on you almost completely, and you could feel Seulgi shaking behind you.

“We need…to get back.” You say once again, cursing at yourself when your voice cracks. Wan throws his head back and laughs as hard as he could while the townsfolk just observe the show. Anger begins to well up alongside the fear and you purse your lips, picking up your feet and tugging Seulgi along.

It didn’t matter if you had to bulldoze through him, you were going to get back to Kim manor no matter what. So you step close, ready to collide into him before he suddenly sidesteps. Thinking he was distracted; you weren’t prepared for his swift movement and you certainly weren’t prepared to feel a hard thwack on your backside. A breath of surprise leaves your throat and the feeling in your arms disappear, which lets the paper bag fall out of your grasp, spilling its contents along the street. You stare at the ground, paralyzed by shock as Seulgi meekly cries out your name.

“Wan, you mad lad!” Someone from his group yells, clasping their hand into his in jest while they all express their amusement at your humiliation. The group aggressively howls, making perverse remarks before eventually continuing down the road, fully disregarding your presence. They left, without any consequences. As if they didn’t just horribly disgrace you.

“___...” Seulgi steps up to your side, crying her eyes out in worry. If this was another time you would console her – scold her for being a crybaby – but at the moment you could think of nothing. You had been a maidservant for almost a decade now and even then, you had never been treated so awfully. What’s worse is that they all saw…they all saw and said nothing.

Not wanting to waste a minute further, you fall to your knees and start gathering the vegetables that fell about. Seulgi calls your name again but you focus on your task. You have to stay composed, you have to stay composed – you repeat it to yourself like mantra. But that sensation of emptiness returns, and you freeze. Before you knew it, you were trembling on the floor with tears streaming down your face and everyone still watched on.

“___.” Seulgi wrapped herself around you tightly. For a moment your fortitude was shattered as you cried in her arms on that dirty street.

Wan was most definitely scum, you conclude with a huff as you finish straightening the laundered bedsheet. But still, you halt, dying the way he did…it’s something you wouldn’t wish on anyone. Your mind wanders back to that paper, torn limbs and missing hearts. Could it possibly be related to what you saw that night on the previous full moon? With a frown, you stare up at the sky, watching the whiffs of white clouds swirl through the blue fabric.

“___!” You hear the familiar shouts of your name and turn to see Seulgi running towards you. “___, there you are!”

“What is it this time?” You sigh as she encloses in on you

“___, is it true that you are consummating with the Lord?”

Dropping the sheet out of your hands, you spin towards the loudmouthed idiot, “W-w-w-where did you hear that?”

“The other maidservants were whispering on it,” She replies with an innocent grin, “Is he as good as the rumors say?”

“A-a-a-as the w-what? What rumors- what- consummate- a-are you out of your mind?” You were blushing from head to toe.

Seulgi looks dejected at your response, “So it isn’t true?”

“Of course not!”

“Ohh,” She groans sullenly, “But I guess it would be impossible for a lord to take interest in maidservants like us.”

Your bashfulness vanishes in an instant. She was correct, there is absolutely no reason for you to find yourself special. Lord Kim had made it clear that he has no interest in you, he just requires a lap and is too proud to ask someone close. This was originally a punishment for you and nothing more – you shouldn’t become too attached.

“___?” Seulgi’s voice was low, “Are you alright? You seem down…”

“…I’m fine.” You mutter, composing yourself, “But more importantly…why are you here to ask me about baseless gossip? Are you done with your station? Remember you have to use the right tools- just scrubbing vigorously doesn’t work-”

“Oh my god- yes, yes, yes!” She responds by childishly covering her ears, “I have to use the coil sponge not the foam one, I get it!”

You begin to scold her as she laughs, prancing around the grass without a care. But soon the humor dies down and it was time to return to work. Before she leaves for her station, she makes a passive comment.

“Tonight’s another full moon. In the night of Samhain.” There was something dim about her tone as she gazes up towards the sky. You join her, wondering if she somehow had the same bad premonition as you did.

_

While you were chatting with your friend, Taehyung was having tea with a man he’d rather throw into a river.

“What brings you here?”

“My, do you sound cold.” His uncle chuckles, taking another sip of his tea, “Am I not allowed to visit my nephew out of fondness?”

“Well, after twenty-so years, consider me surprised.” Taehyung deadpans, which only further humors the elder.

“Perhaps I do have a motive.” He grins for a moment before all signs of amusement vanish from his expression. “I could not help but toil my mind over that paper from before. The townsfolk swore they heard the dog beast growl late into the night before fading behind Kim manor.”

“I thought we agreed the paper was nothing more than gossip fodder.”

“And perhaps that’s all it is.” His uncle’s smile was innocent but held such contempt. “However, as a gentleman who resides in the city, I find myself quite inclined by the mysteries of small towns such as this.”

“What nonsense,” Taehyung scoffs, “Are you saying you wish to investigate this supernatural rubbish the townsfolks gripe about?

“Indeed! The dog beast is nothing but rubbish!” The elder’s laughter was hearty, “But then, there is the question of who killed those men?”

The room was silent, drowning in the animosity the two men felt for one another. Neither one spoke – his Uncle because he had nothing more to say and Taehyung because he felt his throat clogging. He wanted to decline, desperate to splurge words of refusal, but then the fact that he had something to hide becomes too apparent.

“Surely, you won’t mind me staying? Just for one night?”

“Stay as you wish, uncle.”

You were already situated on his bed when your Lord swung the door open.

The sound made you jump, and you immediately rose to your feet to show respect. He began walking towards you in a fast, heavy pace with his feet striking the wood. His face had you unnerved – anger in his frown as well as what you could only describe as dismay in his eyes. Before you could open your mouth to react, you were taken into his arms in a sudden and swift motion.

It left your mind blank.

He squeezed himself onto you, his chest colliding with yours as his scent surrounded your senses. Your arms were hovering his back while your fingers curled into themselves, unsure of your position at the moment. Lord Kim hugged you tight, as if he was afraid.

“M-my Lo-”

“Tonight.” He interjected, muffling into neck as he laid his head on your shoulder, “Do not let me go tonight, whatever you do. Hold onto me as tight as you possibly can, do you hear me? Do not let me wander, I beg you.”

His tone broke your heart. He sounded so frightened – so desperate and you had no clue on how to help him. The Lord has always been the strength of this household. No one had ever witnessed him so distressed, not even at the previous Lord’s funeral. Hesitantly, you placed your fingers against his vertebrate and sat back on the mattress, guiding him gently down with you.

“I won’t let you go, my Lord.” You didn’t know what else to say.

He placed his head on your lap, arms still clinging onto you like a child. His mind seemed to be in the middle of a warzone against himself. The memory of a young man sitting in front of his father’s casket, immobile and silent as a rock, was still so vivid to you. You had only been at Kim Manor for a few months back then, and you remember being disturbed by his attitude – wondering if he had any feelings at all. But after learning about how often his extended family plotted against him, to the point of kidnapping him as an eight-year-old, you began to view that tearless boy with pity.

Watching him tremble in your lap has you reaching out to him. Your digits tread into his soft hair and you slowly move them about to calm his tremors. He seems to respond; his quivers coming to a slight halt at your touch.

You don’t know for how long you rubbed his head, listening to him breath.

You don’t know when you fell asleep.

_

His whole body was aching as he walked towards the grass, trying to ease the sharp pain in his head.

He had been taught that the best place to alter was out in an open, murky environment. Somewhere you could feel the air on your skin as the patches of hair slit through your pores like needles through fabric. Yet still, somewhere impenetrable through the naked eye. There was an area like so behind Kim manor – a clearing that was connected to a large acre of uninhabited woods. And among those acres laid several swamps and bogs, which formed a thick layer of fog around the grounds of the manor – most prominent on the night of the full moon.

It was the perfect place for him, who had been poisoned with this modification.

With his mind as cloudy as the fog, he thinks back to the first time he witnessed his father alter. He was far too young, a month away from ten, when he was brought out to this clearing and visually counseled on his dreadful future. More than anything he wanted to look away, he did not wish to see his beloved father become this monster, but Seung held his hand tight and told him to hold witness for his very own sake. And he witnessed – witnessed his father thrash about as if he wanted to claw his own brains out and he cried.

He cried along with his father. But there was never any other option for him than to tolerate the dread from his place as heir to Kim manor.

It was always painful, every moment his heart pumped blood into his body, he moaned in agony. While the night raged on, he noticed his panting grew deeper by the second – tone sinking to a gruff growl which rips through his chest. His eyes and sense of smell grew keener, large nails grotesquely rip through his skin and his teeth began to enlarge. The image of the moonlight basking on his skin was the only thing offering him refuge.

If he had a choice, he would have chosen to stay inside with the warm you, stare enchantedly at your resting face like the many instants he’s done before. But his changes weren’t just physical. In this state he was bigger, louder, hairier, teethier – more aggressive. His desire for blood was intense but ever since he met you, so was this raw lust. As a rational man with a sense of morals, this perverse craving ashamed him, yet the beast inside did not care for his customs. It wanted to possess you, every ounce of you, thoroughly. To mate with you in a way that wasn’t meant for humans. Being around you in this condition would break the mental leash he chains this deviant with.

Although every time he alters, he feels it loosening. There was something wrong with him – his father and grandfather were able to restrain the beast from rampaging throughout town. But he, on the other hand, had been consuming the town as his sole hunting grounds for some months now. Which is why the “dog beast,” once a mere legend mentioned every decade, was printed in previous months paper.  

It is as if the creature wishes to mock him and the slipping control.

Drenched in sweat and agony, he knew the transformation was almost complete when he suddenly heard a small noise. He immediately spun around and met the petrified eyes of his uncle.

Neither of the men spoke – both gaping at each other with pure, unfiltered fear. The chill of the night establishes its presence in the worst moment possible. Taehyung was afraid for reasons too many, none he could not lucidly list. He recalls what occurred the last time the beast was enraged by someone and he desperately wishes not to hurt anyone ever again in this form.  

Opposite from him stood his uncle, wondering just one thought out of an infinite. How does a normal man, one untouched by the knowledge of this being, react in this situation?

A normal man would run. A normal man would cower in fear. A normal man would beg for his life. But he, the rightful heir to the manor, declined to let this young bastard trample him in such a way. It wasn’t that his uncle was a man without fear. And it wasn’t that he held great courage either, but rather, the very oxygen that burned through him was fueled purely by his stubbornness. He has spent the majority of his life trying to crush first his brother and now his nephew, so when this chance has presented itself so deliciously, he refuses to let it slip through his fingers.

“Y…” His voice was hoarse, throat achingly dry, “What are you?”

Taehyung stands there quietly, unresponsive to the question. Although he was the larger one, he felt so scared and so small. No one had ever spoken to him in this form which is why he was unsure of what to do. He had been a fool, he thought if he could sleep in your arms and you held him tight, he would be able to stop himself from altering tonight.

But now he understood, there was nothing that could.

“You killed those men.” His uncle continues, all on his own. As if he’s suddenly reached enlightenment.

“You do not…understand…” Taehyung shakes his head like a child about to be punished. He didn’t mean to kill anyone. He’s never hurt someone in his whole life. That night, on the previous full moon, it all occurred without any of his own authority.

Taehyung was a despicable man. Wan had hurt you, and he saw it. But rather than step in and intervene – rather than protect you from that scum – he instead just stood by and watched it transpire. No matter how many times he thinks back to it, no matter how often he racks his brain for an answer, he still does not understand why he did nothing. Perhaps he was paralyzed from his own traumas and forced himself to retain his composure – however the beast did not care for his pathetic reasons. It taunted him the whole week leading up to the full moon. Hurt him with insults he knew he merited.

“You’re weak.” It growled, “Weak and puny. I shall protect her myself.”

And then, for the very first time, Taehyung took the life of another human being without any cognizance. What’s worse is that he enjoyed it. That thought alone petrifies him.

“No, I do not understand you. And I do not wish to.”

“Please…” Taehyung begged as he held out his deformed hand to plead with the elder. Did this man think Taehyung desired this life? Did he think he desired this hundred year old curse - originating from a place long before his time - that was forced upon him and on any man who dared to reign over Kim manor. Perhaps despicable, but Taehyung was still softhearted. The reason why he tried so hard to keep his title as Lord was so that no one else would further suffer this abomination, even if it concerned his bastard uncle. 

And it’s also the reason he made peace with dying alone, without a bride and without children. He was meant to stand alone. That is...until he met you.

“How dare you. How dare you grovel to me, you servant of the devil.” The disgust and venom in his uncle’s tone made him recoil.

“No-” It was only a matter of time before the beast consumed him whole and he was certain, like before, it would not spare any mercy. The adversity is something Taehyung direly yearns not to repeat.

“I shall bring the priest and the commissioner. I shall tell them what you did. You shall be brought to justice for what you did to those men. You shall suffer in hell when they burn you at the stake!”

“Please- uncle- please listen TO ME-” He clasped his claws against his mouth when his voice became utterly inhumane. The beast was crawling out of his throat and his sanity was slipping. No longer was he able to see what was in front of him and once again he began to fade, like he did all those times before.

“Run!”

Taehyung with the last of his conscious tried his hardest to warn the man and take a dash for the woods but it was far too late.

The last thing he heard was his uncle’s shrill scream, and then all silence for him.

_

You woke up to a thump.

Or at least you were certain that was what you heard as you sit up on the bed. Your vision was groggy, mind still half asleep as you look in the direction of the sound’s origin. For a minute it was soundless, and then there was another thump. You weren’t sure what it was, but you stood up nonetheless, slowly walking towards the door. Still unaware of your surroundings, you stop in front of the wood, distracted by your own dizziness.

In the tranquility of the room, you caught a noise so faint, you thought perhaps you were still in your nightmare from before. It was immensely faint, but you heard it. The rapid breathing behind the door. Unhurdled by emotions such as caution and reasoning for once, you swung the door open in confusion. And as soon as you did, your own awareness came back to you at full force.

A clothless man stood before you, covered from head to toe in blood and gore. Your breath was stuck in your throat, eyes widening into saucers once you saw the length of his fangs. It took you a full minute realize that it was Lord Kim.

“W…what…” You step back in horror. Perhaps you were still dreaming.

The fear had snuck up around your waist and grabbed you by the throat, leaving you without the ability to move. He gazed at you with eyes that were a bright yellow, yet darker than any man’s you have ever looked into. Your orbs travel down his body as you absorb in his abnormal height, his ripping muscles, his long fingernails and…and his hand.

There was a heart. In his hand, he gripped a fleshy and large organ and you knew it was a heart.

Missing hearts.

“Nooo…please.” You quiver, crying without him ever speaking a word. All signs of alarm were raised in your mind and you don’t even remember what it was for that you came here. Only Seulgi’s words about the dog beast reigned in your ear. The world was spinning as your Lord…as he began to walk towards you. Your life started to flash by your eyes, and you closed them shut tight, so you would no longer have to witness this terror.

“Shhh.” You heard a deep growl before you felt cold and abnormally large fingers on your face. A gasp escapes your throat as he caresses your cheek.

The next thing you knew, you were floating. Your eyes flew open and you saw yourself being carried by him. There was no moment for you to react, as you were subsequently placed upright onto the bed. No longer restrained by his arms, you shifted about in a frenzy.

“Ah…uh…”  

“You are mine.” He states as if it was a fact.

Then he comes over you – wrapping his enormous, dirtied limbs around you as you squeak. He lays his head in your lap and you feel the tears leave your eyes as he yet again resembles your Lord. What you had thought of as just a hallucination from the fog was actually reality. That night, on the previous full moon, you woke up and strolled the grounds to clear your head of Wan. It was then that you saw the most horrid of things – you saw a giant dog shrink into a small human who resembled the Lord.

And you had told yourself lies. Told yourself it wasn’t true and told yourself to forget. But all logic was failing you now as a creature from hell winds down on your very own body. You muffle your cries and fear – too afraid to awaken the beast.

Taehyung laid peacefully in your arms; his mind detached from every other thing that did not concern you. The heart he held in his hand had stopped beating a long time ago, but he could still feel it slipping through his fingers. He is not sure, even as a beast, as to why he takes the hearts of victims. Perhaps it has something to do with how it’s his heart that hurts more than anything else each time he alters.

Well, it did not matter now, he thinks as his perception starts to drift. Nothing mattered at the moment – not the heart, nor his uncle’s body, not even your reaction. For this moment, more than anything, he just wants to rest.

To sleep, in your lap, under this cold, beautiful moonlight.

________

A/N: Okay so I really hate this I apologize. I had intended for it to be longer but well :) October has officially been 2020′s busiest month for me...but I hope you enjoy this garbage lmk what you thought!