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warmau · 4 years

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Prince!AU Yunho

“*this post was commissioned | commission info | other ateez aus

comes off stoic, large, and strong

he has an intensity in his eyes that kind of scares people at first - especially if they have to address him directly

and he’s sort of looking down at them because he’s usually taller, with his hands behind his back

and it’s just like - you thought you felt small before? well.........

to the point where he really doesn’t even need a bodyguard - of course he still has them

but from the way his shoulders look - and the size of his hand - no one is stupid enough to even try it

excels in swordsmanship, loves fencing and represented the country in a national championship

has a fondness for collecting swords as well, but keeps the family heirloom - a beautiful longsword with jade ornaments on the guard - by his side at all times

always seen walking with perfect posture, his large shoulders adorned in white and gold

quiet, accompanying his parents to any official meetings but never uttering a word

those dark, overcast eyes scanning the crowd and leaving even high profile politicians feeling a chill in their bone

when he does speak - he goes rather slow, emotionless word come out one by one is extremely proper grammar

he’s never been seen to get angry - but rumor has it that his voice can sound rather terrifying if he does

has a large pet doberman who has followed him around since he was young

he always looks even more intimidating when he sits on the throne beside his parents with the dog at his feet

they look like something out of a gothic novel

a portrait drawn of this exact scene hangs in the halls of the main ballroom

and it’s always whispered about after people pay visits to the palace

he has impeccable manners - for someone so large you’d think it’s hard to be graceful

but everything he does - it’s done with the most immense calculation

from the way he holds his knives

to the way he plays the piano at the request of his mother

to the way he can be sometimes seen making his way through the busy village streets

a brigade of security behind him - nearly failing to keep up with his brisk steps

people parting tens of feet in front of him because when prince yunho walks by

you don’t need to see him or hear him - his energy is enough to grab your attention

he used to be known as an extremely playful and bright child

he even once was found roaming the streets of the village when he was only ten

having escaped the care of his nannies in the palace

the people had adored him - he was just so cute with his large lovely eyes and loud laughter

but as he got older something seemed to change

and it wasn’t simple maturity - it was coldness - or at least it came off that way

people just assume it’s because he’s being ready to become king

his parents aren’t very well-liked by the villagers - they impose high taxes and ignore the requests of the people

so it’s just assumed yunho will follow in their footsteps

become a royal with no empathy at all, just like his parents

but you - you know better than to believe the mask yunho has so carefully been putting on

you’re mostly ignored by the royal family, even though you work directly in the palace as the family and staff’s personal tailor

you run around fixing uniforms, patching up tears, and working on new custom pieces that the queen requests (nearly every other week much to your horror)

you were hired only a little less than a year ago - but when you’d arrived something about you had nearly knocked the wind out of yunho

no one had ever noticed - but it was apparent from the get-go that you were probably invisible to his parents

to the important staff such as account keepers, foreign translators, and more

but to him - when you were in a room - there was no one else

it was you, heaving giant rolls of silk and lace up to the workshop out in the guest house of the palace

it was you, standing beside the mirror as his father studied your handy work on his lapel

it was you, leaning in close with a polite and almost shaking apology to take his measurements for a new coat

the fragrance of lilies on your hair, the bandages on your fingers from needle pricks

it was true - yunho was on the road to becoming just like his parents, who when he was of age to understand the most basic concepts of ruling

were teaching him that the people they ought to protect meant nothing

they meant profits

and to make sure they didn’t step out of line, yunho would need to learn to come off just like father

apathetic, strategic - not swayed by the crying tears of starving mothers or jobless merchants who couldn’t afford to pay the palace’s high taxes

his parents had taken away everything he enjoyed

forbid him from seeing his best friend, stable hand’s son song mingi

forbid him from fencing for the pleasure of it - instead forcing him into taking lessons with the head of the military, who was cruel and unforgiving of failures

the light which seemed to shine in his eyes had slowly, but surely faded into obscurity

leaving him almost zombified - choosing to remain silent and blind rather than try and rebel for his own happiness

and that of his people

but kindness was still alive in him - no matter how dormant his parents tried to make it - he wasn’t born to be evil

so the pain and suffering he saw in his country only dimmed his hopes further

and then - and then there was you

really, it might have been more like wonder for him when you first passed him in the halls

you were new and were not yet soulless like it seemed everyone else was and perhaps that is what intrigued him the most

walking through halls of grey, you stood out - sunflower like smile, eyes reflecting the gaze of his own

you’d scrambled to put your basket down and bow to him

“my prince”

your voice even felt more alive

he’d been trained not to pay attention, so he pretended not to and continued down the hall without as much as a glance over his shoulder

although - the tug to do so was very much there

but this was wonder, this was the equivalent of dangling water in front of a parched man

what really made the center of yunho’s chest swell was when he’d stumbled upon you in the village

you lived in the guest houses workshop - you had to be on call for any of the queens bidding when it came to her gowns and slips

but this off chance, you’d been given permission to visit your family

they lived cramped above the tailoring shop that had been passed down through the generations

and although it was meager, almost dilapidated - it managed to stay open with the help of your pay from the royal family

which still didn’t offer much - much to your dismay

yunho had been on official business, accompanied by the tax keeper of the country

he rounded the corner, ignoring the insolent and halfhearted attempts of the tax keeper trying to befriend him

when he caught sight of you

you were standing infront of the open doors of the tailors shop

your mother was holding your hands in hers, eyes ringed red with freshly cried tears

yunho had stopped- the tax keeper almost slamming face-first into the prince’s broad back

“don’t be upset”

you say softly, looking at your mother with the best smile you can manage

“look at your hands, look at my baby’s hand - calloused, bruised - what is that godforsaken witch of a queen making you do?!”

you shake your head

“mother, don’t be so loud. words like that could get you killed”

“she took you away from me, she took you away from us and now she’s destroying you - and she isn’t even paying you for it.”

yunho hurts every time he sees these kinds of scenes, no matter how hard the expression on his face may seem

but when he witnesses your mother cradling your hands, the shadows of maybe your siblings or other family members inside the window of the pathetic looking tailor's shop

for the first time in a long time

his tight-lipped frown breaks

“ah isn’t that the palace’s um,,,,,,,,who are they,,,,,, kitchen staff?”

the tax keeper adjusts the thin wire-framed glasses on his nose as he talks about you with uninterest

yunho doesn’t answer, but he turns back, avoiding the path that would leave him to cross in front of you

the tax keeper asks why he’s going the opposite direction but yunho doesn’t hear him

he thinks he should put on a tough voice, just to make sure he can keep up appearances like he was taught

but his mind is fogged

the next time you are called up to his chambers to fix a tear in his fencing suit - yunho, who usually ignores you as you work, stands up from his seat on the expansive bed

and rounds the corner to stop and loom over you

you feel your blood still a bit, you always feel that when a member of the royal family is around

but then he asks, softly

“may i please see your hands?”

he even says your name - in a tone that you have never heard from anyone before

and you are so shocked that your brain mechanically reacts for you

placing your hand, open-palmed, onto the prince’s

yunho’s larger fingers trace over some of your older work wounds

you try not to flinch, but he notices and retracts his hand immediately

“is it extremely painful?”

he inquires, but you shake your head

“no! not at all! jus - just a pinch really,,,,,,,”

yunho sees something flash in your eyes

“and i can work fine. i really can.”

“im not questioning your skill.”

you blink and he thinks - they’re afraid im going to get them in trouble.

“your family owns a tailor’s shop in the village?”

“yes”

“are they looking to sell it?”

your eyes go wide with terror and yunho feels his heart wrench

“no - wh-why are you asking? i mean, i apologize my prince but wh-”

he lets go of your hand, upset with himself for scaring you like this and before you can get an answer he chooses to turn and flee out of the chambers and down the winding staircase

he flies past a group of confused butlers and you are left in awe, worry and panic icing up in your veins

yunho hates this - he hates that everyone is so afraid of him because they’re afraid of his mother and father

he intends on somehow making it right - especially after seeing how desperately you had tried not to look weak in his eyes

simply for the sake of this pitiful job his mother had employed you in

he thinks maybe instead of asking he should just show - gathering his large frame and making his way to find the same tax keeper from before

you are in utter disbelief when you hear your name being summoned from the guest house on an urgent matter

not by the queen for another ball gown, not the king for his muddy boots

but by prince yunho who requests your presence in the village

you expect the worst as you appear in front of your home - seeing your family lined up beside the prince and the nervous look tax keeper

oh no - did he buy my family’s only possession? this tailor shop has been in my bloodline for years-

“i’ve bought the building,”

he explains and you think you might as well just faint on the spot

“which means, it is my property and can’t be taxed by the royal family.”

the crippling shock stills and you look up into the prince’s eyes

his mouth is not smiling, but his eyes - are they?

“it belongs wholly to your family. you can keep your business here, but they will not be paying taxes ever again.”

the tax keeper is dabbing at his sweaty forehead, but you - but you are confused

your mother's eyes spark in joy and your father breathes out a sigh of relief that must have been clogging up his chest forever

the tax keeper is excused by the prince as you stare agape like a fish

“b-but why?”

you ask, more to no one than to the prince

but yunho hears you, and he explains

“you can go back to your family and run your business. you don’t have to be my mothers workhorse anymore.”

your mother rushes and takes her hand in hers

“it’s a miracle, i thought the royal family was nothing but scum but he -”

she tosses a look over her shoulder and bows to yunho

who for the first time since he was a child gets red in the ears at the sign of respect

you don’t know what to say or what to process

this isn’t a revelation you thought would ever happen - but then you look over your mother's shoulder at yunho

and he ,,,,, does not look like the miserable prince he was once before

yunho fully expects that you will not return to your position at the palace, but instead, that’s exactly what you do

and you’re not one to be ever the brave, but you think that something has shifted in the stiff air of this palace

and so when you round the corner outside the library and spot the prince you jump

“my prince wait!”

you call out and yunho stops in his tracks, he’s never been fond of being yelled at

it usually makes him wince, revert back to the traumatizing first days of his initiation into his parents “perfect prince” role

“kindness is worthless, you should listen to greed - it will bring more than moeny. it will bring power”

his fathers booming voice rings in his ears, but your own soothes it out and he waits as you catch up to him

“i apologize greatly if i am overstepping my boundaries, you are my prince - but i must question your decision to help my family for i don’t know what would drive you to perform such a kind act?”

you look up through your eyelashes and yunho thinks if he looks too long at your own gaze he might drown in it

so he clears his throat and averts his eyes to the side

“it is simply because i wanted to help you.”

his eyes flick to your hands

“you only get hurt working here.”

you still aren’t sure you’re quite catching on, but what you do retain is that the prince who everyone is so sure lives under the heel of his evil parents

has just confessed to wanting to help - of his own volition

a smile breaks out on your face

“i knew it.”

the prince straightens his back - “knew what?”

“you are nothing like them, are you?”

if he’d been anyone else but the son of the most powerful people in the country - you think you’d reach up and caress his cheek

because it feels like he hasn’t had that kind of tenderness in a long time

but you don’t want to jump your fences - so instead you give a small bow of your head

“i know you intended for me to stop working here, but i want to continue. if only because the shop still doesn’t make ends meet, but also maybe they’ll be other reasons too.”

your words seem cryptic but pure - an anomaly, but this whole situation is twisting in unexpected ways

you turn to be back on your way and yunho watches until you disappear down the hall

did you put a spell on him? or is this what vulnerability feels like?

his act of kindness toward you isn’t where yunho stops, slowly he begins to reflect on his demeanor

he was taught not to thank those that worked in the royal home for it was their “duty” to serve those higher above

but yunho had always felt dreadful about the lack of respect his parents and their closest consorts held for the staff

the first time he says “thank you” to the maid that brings him up the evening tea - she almost drops the hot pot out of shock

small steps, small steps are what he takes at first

nods of approval, polite please before asking someone to do something, and then -

he shows up at the stable one day and approaches mingi with a box

at first his old friend is cautious, but when the prince opens it and reveals an assortment of the finest sweets, mingi’s eyes grow wide and he looks up with his mouth open

“is it true? is the yunho i know coming back?”

none of this goes unnoticed - you see his efforts and you cheer him on quietly

whenever the two of your cross paths you even suspect he smiles to himself

you spend a long evening working on patching up the queen’s favorite skirt when you glance out of the window of the workshop and spot the prince with the goofy, but kindhearted stable boy

the bright vibrant red hair sticking out from under his worn cap - mingi laughs as yunho strolls beside him through the fields outside

he hasn’t relaxed completely, but even from far out here you think you can feel that there is warmth flowing back through him

they stroll closer and closer until they’re practically under the window and mingi waves out to you

yunho’s eyes meet yours and he goes breathless

you hang out of the window, hair in your face, arm out to wave in response and he remembers tails he read in books

rapunzel, cinderella, little mermaid - but all the princes in those tales were good

they weren’t crude and unfriendly, money-hungry or manipulative

that’s why they were loved. and that’s why you are not

he tears his eyes away and mingi shouts that you come visit him in the stables for lunch tomorrow

you promise that you will, and the cast one last look at the prince

the next day, just as you expected, you’re enjoying lunch on the hay bales with mingi when the prince happens to come by

he tells mingi that his father wants to have some horses prepared for an afternoon hunt and mingi shoves the remaining of his sandwich in his mouth with a thumbs up

you laugh at his silliness and yunho thinks he can listen to that sound for the rest of his existence

“have you eaten my prince?”

you ask and yunho knows you’re saying it because you have to - you can’t call him by his name

but the way it makes him feel is some effect he’s never had with anyone else before

“yes, please enjoy your lunch as well.”

he puts a hand out as to signal for you to continue, but before he goes some sort of force and maybe a bit of wishful thinking makes you take his hand in yours

yunho’s breathing hitches

“can you join me now that mingi is gone?”

he agrees - but you’re not about to make a prince sit on hay so you invite him over to the workshop

yunho realizes as he makes his way inside that he hasn’t been in here since he was incredibly young

back when his family had a very elderly seamstress, come to think of it - she was the one that had told him all those stories of kindhearted and noble princes

he smiles at the memory, but then comes the stinging aftermath

how your parents had gotten rid of her in the blink of an eye - cast her out and yunho feels something in his chest clench

did she die on the streets? did she even have a family to go back to? why did my parents treat her like she was less than a person?

your voice asking if the prince wants you to make tea breaks his concentration - he politely refuses

and surveys the sad-looking room

there’s a bed, a desk with candles and what he presumes is your diary

most of the space is taken up by the sewing machine and the array of clothing racks

none of which are your own - yunho realizes a lot of them are his mothers or his fathers and even his own

it’s like your living in a closet, a doll stuffed back past all the other more important things

and yet here you are in front of him - shining like the aurora lights

he swallows - suddenly wanting to apologize

“my prince, if i may”

you begin

“i’ve been thinking about how you helped my family-”

“please, don’t think much of it.”

he interrupts and you shake your head

“no - i must think much of it. the son of such -”

you stop, realizing your leading yourself into what could be a very bad decision, but the prince just lets out a sad chuckle

“of such tyrants? i know, believe me i know best how cruel they can be...”

you put your hands to the front and yunho can’t stand the sight - he had never wanted to see another bandage on your fingers

but here you were, wearing them again - all because his mother couldn’t stand to be seen in the same thing twice

“yes, they are. but you are not. mingi told me about the boy you once were -”

yunho bites back on his tongue

“you asked him about me?”

“he told me how sweet and caring you were, how you cried when one the horses were whipped. you aren’t evil - you aren’t like them. it is not my place to judge anyone, especially not you - but i think you are destined for good.”

his large shoulders shake a bit and you worry that maybe you’ve gone too far

but the reality is, yunho has wanted to hear something like this for so long

it’s true - he wasn’t built to be emotionless, to care about money, to watch suffering with a blank expression

suddenly, as if the waves in all the oceans across the world have turned, you watch as the tall - intimidating - cold prince of your country crumbles to his knees on the old floor of your workshop

you rush to him, worried that he’s fallen ill

but then you touch him - hand on his cheek like you and him both had wanted to do back in front of the library

and yunho feels like he’s looking up at a saint

“i don’t want to be a bad person.”

“you are not. you never were.”

yunho leans forward into your touch, you are overwhelmed by his weight and nearly topple over yourself

when was the last time someone was gentle with him?

you wonder as his eyes flutter closed and you see how handsome he is up close

perfect skin resting against the warm skin of your palm

“my prince?”

“i know you cannot sanctify me, i know nothing can take back what my mother and father have done and caused but i want-”

“do you want to change that?”

your other hand comes up and you are cradling the prince - his gaze opens up again and he nods

“i want to make this country a place of kindness again.”

you nod, bringing your forehead down to press against his

the touch makes yunho gasp, affectionate touch foreign to his otherwise untouched body

“you can do it. i believe in you.”

yunho spends that night wide awake in his bed - staring up at the marble ceiling

he feels hot, pressing his fingers to his forehead again - to the spot where you had made contact

even his own mother hadn’t touched him with such care in years

he finds himself wishing he could get up and run out to the guest house where he’s sure you are up - working on other one of his mothers many pointless projects

that tiny room must be lonely, but was it as lonely as being here in this huge palace your whole life?

suddenly a thought that has never crossed his mind pops up

they have a loving family, but do they have someone else? someone special?

yunho sits up - hair disheveled, expensive sheets sliding down at the sudden jolt

“yunho - what are you thinking about right now? have you gone insane?.”

but the thought haunts him, and when he asks mingi in the morning for advice

the look on his friends face only makes him dread

“so you want me to explain what you’re feeling?”

“yes, why do i care so much about who this person is close to.”

mingi crosses his arms over his chest

“because you probably hope the person they’re closest to is you - right? because,,,,,,,,,well i think prince yunho,,,,,,,,,,you probably like this person.”

yunho doesn’t wrap his head around that thought - like you? no, there’s no way

sure, he admits that you have seized him like no other - made him want to change for the better, but that doesn’t necessarily mean -

he loses track of thought when he hears the door to his practice room open

you bow and apologize as you come inside, you’ve never been here before - and prince yunho looks even more handsome in his fencing attire than the usual royal regalia

“am i interrupting, i can come again later my pr-”

he shakes his hand and walks over to place the sword and his helmet down

“is there anything i can do for you?”

he asks, the nature of his voice is giving and soft - you are so happy to hear the shift

“not for me, but i think there is something you can do for your people.”

“my people?”

“you said you wanted to be a kind leader - a good person, i think you can do it - but i think you need to convince others you can too.”

yunho doesn’t know if you convince him

or if maybe he’s always wanted to do something like this

the kitchen staff are perplexed when he orders a gigantic feast

and even more so when he explains that it will be carried down and into the village

the people's eyes and mouths water at the delicacies that have for far too long been too expensive to even dream of

and when the prince makes his way through the streets - he stops and bows

“please enjoy yourselves”

he invites and the lights of what seems like an early christmas spark in the eyes of the village people

you stand beside yunho, shocked that he went this far this fast

you thought he’d start of small with acts of kindness that weren’t this grand

but then you see how happy he is to see other people happy

and when you turn away, he catches the side of your profile and another thought he never imagined he would ever have crossed his mind

don’t they look rather perfect by my side?

feasts, gigantic donations to public schools and orphanages, the prince giving his own fencing classes for free in the streets, inviting villagers to come and tell him their problems

to see him up close, no bodyguards

no meddlesome parents screaming at him to look past the sorrow and think of only the money

yunho wakes you up one morning and the gleam in his eyes excites you

“let’s donate all these dresses my mother keeps stuffed in here to the people?”

you jump out of bed, throwing your arms around his neck and exclaiming that you love that idea

and yunho is so startled

your body pressed against the front of his uniform that he has to gentle place you back on the ground

you flush and apologize profusely - he’s still the prince

even if he feels more like a friend now

and that was uncalled for and rude

yunho wishes he could express that that isn’t the reason why he let you go so fast

it’s just touch has been gone from most of his life that even interactions like these can spark something he isn’t sure he can control

instead, yunho starts helping you collect the racks and racks of expensive gowns and trousers and skirts and jackets

bringing them down to waiting carriages

mingi saluting the two of you from where he sits up beside the horse

and yunho thinks he hears symphonies as you two ride through the streets and throws these gowns out to the people

women and children’s eyes lighting up

feathers, pearls, glitter, lace all fly through the streets of the city

and then yunho notices you clutch something in your hands

it’s a pretty shawl, one that you’d throw over your shoulders during winter

“is this one special?”

he asks and you bring it up to your chest

“my mother helped me make it - the queen wore it at the last new years ball. it took so long to make,,,,,,,,,,”

yunho takes a moment to understand that all these clothes are the efforts of you - of you and your hardworking hands and soul

“we don’t have to thro-”

but you shake your head, you lean out of the carriage and see a young girl with outstretched arms - you drop the shawl and she squeals with excitement

yunho looks at the happiness that overfloods your expression

“all i want to do in my life is give -”

you turn to him

“i think that’s the noblest way to live, right?”

you look absolutely beautiful - yunho wants to say - but he just nods and holds the handle of his saber to calm himself down

when you two return, he holds his hand out to help you down

and mingi whistles from the front seat - leaving you both in an embarrassing mess

as his laughter fills the air

of course, no matter how much you and yunho do to give back to the villagers

no matter how many times he’s seen you look so comfortable, so destined beside him as you two did kind acts together

no matter how close each day felt to him coming to terms with the reality of what the swelling in his heart really meant for you

it was, without a doubt, going to come to this day

where you were hurrying through the palace and stopped dead in your tracks at the sound of a harsh, resounding slap

“you are the prince of the country, what are you doing spending your time with lower than scum peasants?”

the queens voice hisses

“no son of mine is going to rendezvous with a tailor’s daughter. your hands are dirty with their poorness, you disgust me!”

the kings low tone growls

you feel your heartbeats bang like a drum against your rib cage as you peek your head around the doors to the throne room

yunho is standing at the edge of the large marble stairs

his mother and father,

adorned head to toe in your hard work and in jewels they’ve bought with the blood-stained money of their villagers

loom over him like two angry shdaows

they shout cruel words at him

about how he shouldn’t spend his time with you, how he shouldn’t interact with the people, about how stupid he is to make himself out to be this “weak” of a prince

“you’ll never bear the weight of this crown - you know nothing about being a leader!”

his father lashes out and then his mother raises her hand once more

she brings it down, hard against the skin of his cheek

so hard you nearly feel it on your own body

the sound you make echos into the room and all heads turn toward you

you don’t even make an attempt to run or hide, you let the guards drag you up beside yunho

his princes’ crown abandoned at his feet

the saber he always keeps by his side strewn onto the other side of the room

he looks defeated and you just want to tell him that nothing they said is true

“my prince look at me, please - they can spew all the words in the world but i know your kindness will prevail so don’t listen-”

you start, but the queen orders one of the guards to cover up your mouth

you muffle through their hand and yunho can’t even bear to look at you right now

“it’s their fault, isn’t it. if you’d never come into this house my son would have never become the pitiful, pathetic idiot that he’s showcased himself to be.”

the queen’s heels send static through your spine as she makes her way over

“give me yunho’s saber”

she instructs and one of the other court guards scrambles to hand it to her

the king puts his hands behind his back, satisfied with letting his wife do the dirty work as she unsheathes the sword

the jade embellishments are so beautiful - you’d always admired them when they hung at yunho’s side

“no one will miss you dear, you already forced my son to give your disgusting family a free pass by buying up that ugly shack of a tailors shop. well i suppose someone has to pay for his stupidity - and since i can’t kill my own son.”

she flicks her eyes at yunho and scoffs

“i can kill what made him so damn useless”

the guard lets you go - and you full to the floor to collect your breath

it leaves you open to the attack, and you want to take one last look at yunho

ask him to please not give up on becoming a better ruler for the people

when suddenly you see him move forward, grabbing onto the blade before his mother can thrust it forward

all you feel is the tiny drops of blood as the sharp edge digs into his skin and he yanks it from her hold

stepping in front of you he puts the sword out

“GUARDS!”

his mother shouts, but just as they move toward him - yunho finally speaks

it’s that voice you’ve heard about, the voice that sounds like thunder

“WHAT? ARE YOU GOING TO KILL ME? THE PRINCE?”

he heaves, bloody hands wrapped around the grip of his sword

“YOU’RE GOING TO KILL ME AND KEEP LIVING UNDER THEIR COMMAND? IS THAT WHAT YOU WANT?”

the guards all hesitate - and the staff which have crowded around the commotion all have their eyes locked on yunho and you

you look up, yunho is visibility shaking - the pain must be immense as the gashes on his palms are huge

“my prince-”

you start, but it’s weak and meager and drowned out by the queens insolent laughing, accompanied by the king in unison

“OF COURSE THEY ARE, SON! THEY’RE IDIOTS BORN TO SERVE - NOTHING MORE NOTHING LESS!”

yunho looks around and asks again

“ARE THESE THE PEOPLE YOU WANT TO LIVE FOR?”

the queen and king don’t look scared, they just order for the guards to seize yunho and kill you once more

but no one moves

no one dares to even breath

slowly you start to get up, you reach out - yunho watches you as you settle your hands over his

you hold the grip too, your old scarring wounds over his freshly new ones

“i don’t want to be ruled by them anymore.”

you start

“i want to be ruled by a kind, loving, thoughtful person. i want to be ruled by prince yunho.”

he staff burst into bubbling talks, the guards still don’t move

and yunho looks at you - holding his bloody hands and bloody sword

and he still sees the imprint of the guards hand on your neck and lips and it tears him apart

but it makes him stronger too

and he also feels his head almost spin because this is the first time you’ve ever said his name

suddenly, there’s a flash and the entire room turns - assuming a guard has finally made their move

but instead, the flash is red

and it runs up behind the king and then appears beside you and yunho

it’s mingi, and in his hands is the crown that was just on the kings head

“i believe this is yours!”

he grins - plopping it ontop of yunho’s head and stepping back to join the staff that has now crowded itself into the room

the king hollers for the guards to get him

but yunho beats him to it

“GUARDS, AS THE NEW KING -”

his eyes lock with yours

“I ORDER YOU TO SEIZE MY MOTHER AND FATHER!”

without a moment's hesitation, you hear them rally around to take the old queen and king by the hands

they both yell and shout that this is insane - preposterous - that their son better stop acting up and order them to be released now

but yunho shakes his head

“too long you two have asked me to be silent, to be cruel, and to be heartless. but i chose kindness. i chose to give because.”

you smile at him - and say it in the same

“that is the noblest way to live.”

the staff break into a cheer all around, the doors of the palace burst open and the parade you and yunho out into the streets

although you’re both sweating, covered in blood and you’re riping at your sleeves to bandage yunho up

the villagers welcome him like the king he is

crooked crown - but pure heart

and mingi appears beside you

you holding yunho’s sword still in your hands

“i think we’ll need to organize a coronation for the king!”

“yes!”

you laugh and watch as the people embrace yunho and he shines in the middle, happy to finally be free of the hold of his parents

mingi leans down closer

“and a wedding am i right?”

you jump, hitting him playfully as he shrugs

even in the crowd -

the prince finds you

eyes locked on yours

everyone turns and watches as you come closer and closer

offering up the sword to him, but he simply nudges it to the side

taking your face in his hands,

just like you did to him all that time before

the makeshift bandages rough on your cheeks

but his lips soft as they brush yours

mingi grins

“i was definitely right. there will totally be a wedding soon,,,,,,,,i hope there will be cake!”

#yunho scenarios #yunho imagines #yunho au #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #ateez au #prince au #blood/#minor violence/#yunho #ateez #member: ateez #writing commissions

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theprivacypolicy · 6 years

Text

RIP, Bourdain. Good Morning, willpower.

The first bit of information I received when I opened my eyes this morning was the news of Anthony Bourdain's death. By suicide. The second celebrity death this week. I was raised under the belief that death comes in threes. He is the third suicide I've heard of this week. A friend of mine watched a woman jump to her death on the L train platform hours after Kate Spades death was announced. He shared his experience 1 min later on Instagram stories.

The death of Bourdain brings great sadness, as I and many others of my generation were fans of his. Details about this popularity, admiration and fandom are all probably pretty similar. He served the same to so many of us, I’d be an echo if I regaled right now. Something about a book and maybe steak and maybe an addiction. Everyone had a favorite Bourdain thing. Mine was mostly about food talk and human empathy. I’ll save that part for myself. Maybe I’ll share later. But here’s what shook me out of bed to send a text to my closest ex about the news. This depression thing. This depression thing is so real. We are watching so many things unfold in this new black mirror landscape, our ability to share information which travels great distances at great speed is something generations before us never had. Look how we are confronting it. Look at how we are using this medium.I took a screen shot of the article, shared the news on my Instagram stories with a caption “depression is serious you guys. Depression is very very real.” After witnessing the platform jumper, my friend shared his experience with a quick insta story, because I guess you get service on the Bedford platform. I probably would have done the same. My social news feed this morning is post after post of Bourdain, various homage and tribute. Earlier this week, pictures of Kate Spade bags and shoes. Who the fuck is this for? This post for you? So you feel good knowing that people know you read his book? You had a pair of her shoes? “Check in on people”... oh word? Did you check in on anyone before you reframed that Instagram photo of your purse?

Gross. I stay throwing shade at posts from “Friends” yet I see myself doing the same shit. If we are so quick to post and share and comment, make this connection, share an opinion, make judgement, claim a feeling, post a picture of yourself with the departed, why are we so slow to confront what we are really and truly saying? There’s always a reason behind these posts that go unshared. We are so falsely candid. Sometimes if feels like the more we post, the more transparent things become that everyone is full shit. What was I trying to say with my pre-coffee Instagram? What was so important to me that I needed to get that out in that medium at that moment? Pretty sure my post was a guise to say, “I know about depression, because I have clocked a lifetime of experience with that shit, and now you know.” So, instead of saying it in 40 characters or less, here is what I really wanted to say....

The suicides this week are a “trigger” for me. I grew up in a house with a manic depressive bipolar single mother of 3 girls. I witnessed a lot at a young age. For 18 years, I had a front row seat to symptoms of depression I often mistook as “normal”, for lack of alternate lens. One of my earliest memories was watching my mother try to slit her wrist AND jump off my 32nd fl terrace. At the same time. I pretended I was sleeping. I was watching through a crack in the blanket over my head while my sister calmed her down and removed the kitchen knife from her hand. I remember that every time I use a knife that looks like the one she held. Her depression was real. Hours in bed, in a dark room with the TV flickering sitcoms, sometimes turned into days. Calls from my school checking in because I missed so many days in a row. She couldn’t muster the strength or energy to dress me and get me on the school bus. Once I understood her behavior as illness, I kept it a secret from my friends. My mother survived her depression and passed away, ultimately, from a viral illness. I don’t doubt that years of depression exhausted her immunity to fight the various illnesses and cancers she battled over her 54 years. Sometimes it’s hard to tell which came first, chicken or egg. And as frustrating and traumatic it was to be in the care of the mother who faced the challenges she faced, I found myself in awe of her willpower today. I struggle with reflecting on my relationship with my mother, but the death of Bourdain and Spade gave me some insight, and that, I am appreciative of.

This is about willpower.

Here is the other kicker. I too have a relentless relationship with depression. Trauma is a hellofadrug, maaan. So when I’m out on these social media streets judging tweets, I’m not being a h8r. I kind of feel like I’m a part of a club today. Some of us looking at each other with a shared understanding. For pop culture sake: If you know, you know. On a text chain to a best friend on “the inside”, who truly knows me and my shit- I wrote on depression; “There’s like a clear identifiable line between the people who understand and the people who don’t and front like they understand. And then worse the ones who flap about “checking in with your friends” when you know damn well they don’t practice that shit.” I found refuge in his understanding my message. I find refuge in sharing my true feelings with him. He’s got the dark cloud sometimes, too. He gets it. He suggested I not let the social media voices get to me. Didn’t stop me from scrolling and getting fired up.

“OMG so sad! So surprising!”

Really though? Is it?

“He was so good at enjoying life”.

No, he wasn’t. If he were, this wouldn’t have happened. Someone who is “good at enjoying life” looks at life and kills themselves in France is not good at enjoying life. Don’t put that on people. That’s a pressure. Being “good at enjoying life” is a broad fucking statement. It shouldn’t be a measure. I’m sure he wanted to be good at enjoying life, and maybe his projects were forms of therapy to get him though the days. But he wasn’t good at enjoying life. He faked it. And that’s ok, too. Coping mechanisms can really make a false impression. People are surprised? Honestly, I’m not surprised at ALL. Not one bit. Because depression is real. Being shocked that depression can bring someone to a deep dark place is a privilege I wish I had.

I’m so frustrated with the empathy struggle for those who do not experience depression. I once had a Christian friend of mine say he didn’t understand and has no sympathy for anyone who kills themselves. He shared he has never been depressed and doesn’t understand how anyone “gets that way” because he keeps life simple by not having high expectations of people. That must be nice. So many problematic things there. The good thing about not understanding anyone who kills themselves is that they dead. So they don’t care what you think and they likely didn’t want your sympathy anyway.

This idea of expressing understanding of depression is so fragile. Either you understand from experience, and by proxy, reveal trauma. Or you don’t have an experience to borrow empathy from and are then risk alienating the effected. Or worse, you pretend to empathize because the “victim” was famous. Then, add social media to the mix (which we know is the worst already). RIP posts are a great example of toxic group think and narcissism. And I know, a lot of the RIP chatter is just personal coping. I love myself some personal public coping, clearly, this is proof. I guess my wish for us all, on any side of depression, is that we be more honest with ourselves about what we are trying to say when we post shit in times like these. What are we really trying to say? And to whom? And why? Look friends, no tea no shade, I get it. Sometimes these purse pictures and “I own Kitchen Confidential” posts are simply, a show of respect, a modern twist on ceremony. Like wearing all black. I did my tribute part today, too. I’m wearing all white. ( I wear black all day every day). It’s for me really it’s not for anyone else. My ceremonious acknowledgement of how valuable life is. If social media has become a part of your ceremony, c'est la -modern- vie, I guess? I didn't sign up for this ride. But I am going to try and be gracious while on it. Consider this: the post you make about shock and sadness might alienate someone who could otherwise open up to you about their battle with depression. It is not always visible. Destigamtize it by being open to the understanding that this can happen to anyone at any time. No one is immune. Sure, post a number to a hotline, but consider that suggesting a “solution” or sharing advice on something you have zero experience with is not effective. Not for this one. We see through those. Is that post for us? Or just so people know you know how to “help” people? Have you done this? Don’t be embarrassed, I do it to. With shit like refugees and pipelines. But the refugees and Native Americans probably can’t see my armchair activism. Chances are, your depressed friend see’s these. Better thing? Answer their call. Send them a text. Don’t get upset if they don’t write back.

On life, depressed or not, we get one. We should all check in with ourselves, at least twice a day. And check in with each other more often than we do, even the retreaters. Especially the retreaters. A classic symptom of depression is retreating. We should also be cognizant of when someone has struggled and has taken the right steps to better themselves. Support those initiatives. Be careful with the word crazy. Be careful with the word bipolar. Saying “get help” is as effective as wearing a safety pin to tell people they are “safe”.

Les Halle's will be packed today, no doubt. I have the urge to go there and have a martini, myself, a thing I would do there when I was 25 and feeling more optimistic about the world. Just kidding. It’s closed now. News to me. Whatever other foods and places and stops Bourdain swore by will be frequented, they’ll run out with whatever is the thing that he recommended. His favorite patisserie didn’t know this was going to happen today. The kitchen at his favorite spots didn’t expect that they’d run out (86?) the dish he insisted was a must have. The Friday rush was expected but I suspect orders in rapid excess today, because that’s how New Yorkers deal. In rapid excess. The shift will end and another will begin the next day. In the perpetual motion machine, many will be pausing in a moment for Bourdain today. Same here. RIP Bourdain. Thank you for your insight and knack for story telling. Most of all, thank you for reminding me that with struggle comes willpower. Your death pushed me to acknowledging willpower as a secret serum that kept the loved ones in the struggle around a little longer. Your death also gave me a chance to acknowledge that I have a bit of that secret serum, myself. Thank you for holding on to that serum for the time you did, and sharing your stories with us. You are appreciated.

If you read this far and need someone to talk to, you can also google the help outlets and choose who you want to call. I’m not going to tell you what to do or how to do it. It doesn’t work like that. If you know me, you probably have my number, use that too if you want. A copy paste phone number isn’t going to convince you any more to remember willpower, which I urge you to remember. All these dead people had willpower. It’s just that they hit a real bad one. Try not to hit the bad one. Remember willpower, you’ve used it before. I have it and I know you have it too.

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But if you don't wanna google resources, here are some they sent to the entire office today. i usually align with their resources, they're decent people.

suicidepreventionlifeline.org - Chat or call 1-800-273-8255, available 24/7

crisistextline.org - Text HOME to 741741 for 24/7 crisis support

seizetheawkward.org - Provides various resources such as tutorial videos, information on warning signs and conversation starters

#rip #willpower #suicide #anthonybourdain

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faithfulnews · 4 years

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Not Welcome?

I’m staring at an old newspaper cover.

It was delivered to our house in December, and made its rounds from the front door, to the kitchen table, to the kitchen cupboard before my wife finally stated “throw it out, I’m sick of looking at it”.

I threw most of it out.

The front cover I laid aside, then carefully cut out the picture on the front page. A woman stands in the middle of the picture, her upper body and face obscured by the sign she is holding. On the sign are two simple words: “Not Welcome”.

The city where I live has a problem. It has a significant population of unhoused individuals, and (currently) inadequate resources to shelter them. This past fall, tents and makeshift tarps lined the city sidewalks in a central downtown location close to various shelters and services. The tent-city eventually took up an entire block. And then in late November, the city unexpectedly and suddenly moved this population and their belongings to less central, residential areas. Areas much closer to people’s homes.

I kept the picture on the front page because it disturbed me. Temperatures had dropped significantly that week, and snow had begun to cover the ground. On the edges of the picture I can see the sign holder’s, embroidered scarf and fur-lined mittens. In contrast to their seemingly put together appearance, the signboard appears hastily written, blotches of paint visible within the letters. Their face was obscured, their identity and disdain protected. They could have been anyone. For a while, they seemed to be everyone.

That story captured a moment of collective anger, fear and judgement. For days people called in to the local radio or wrote into the paper expressing their frustration over scores of unhoused individuals being unceremoniously moved near their homes and parks.

At that time, a prominent pastor in our city was highlighted by a national news program for an editorial he had written regarding the homeless population in our city. I was hopeful that this pastor was going to comment on our common humanity, our need for empathy, and our need to stop “othering” this unhoused population.

But this was not what was written.

Initially, I was encouraged. The editorial began with the pastor challenging each person to walk down the affected street in our city, to see the faces of those most affected. The people hunkering down under makeshift tarps, those who worked at the nearby shelter, the business owners attempting to make a living. He reflected on his own religious instruction to have compassion and care for the poor. He lamented the tragic history that many of these individuals have had that has led to their current living situation.

And then as expected, he likened the plight of our city’s unhoused to a story in the Gospel of John. In John’s account, Jesus comes upon an encampment of people near a pool. The pool is thought to be a place of healing for those who can reach the pool while water is stirring (supposedly by a divine being). Many sick, blind, paralyzed and emaciated lived nearby. It is here that Jesus comes across a man who has had an infirmity to his legs for 38 years, and asks him if he would like to be well.

That question, “Would you like to be well?” is an interesting one, and one the aforementioned pastor focuses on. He reckons that perhaps the man did not want to be healed. That he preferred begging, that perhaps he would have to take responsibility for his life if he was healed. And then he related the story to the unhoused. Maybe some of them don’t want to be housed. Maybe some of them don’t want to “be clean and sober and work and pay [their] own way”.

Ah. There it is. So that’s the pastor’s true message. That there are deserving and undeserving. Sick or poor, 2,000 years ago or today, some people deserve our help and compassion, others do not. This pastor ends his editorial with the opinion that if an unhoused individual does not wish to become a productive member of society, that we should make our city “a very unwelcome place for them”.

There it is again. “Not Welcome”.

I cannot tell you how deflated I felt after hearing these words. I was expecting the Gospel, good news for the unhoused. I was expecting a story of compassion to yield more compassion, not justified condemnation.

And yet, I understand the frustration that leads one to look for answers, especially from the Bible. Frustration is understandable because the problem of homelessness is not simple, and has not been easily addressed in any city I am aware of. This pastor is frustrated with “handouts”, nonprofit and municipal resources spent because they don’t “fix” the problem of homelessness in our city.

What if it’s not about fixing? What if it’s about compassion?

I work as a nurse, and I regularly witness firsthand how important and commonly overlooked compassion is. Where we can, practitioners endeavor to heal to the best of our ability. But there are many things we cannot heal. Certain diseases, chronic conditions, even the human condition of aging and own slow decay are inescapable, unfix-able.

In these cases, compassion and care becomes infinitely more important than outcome. In fact, compassion becomes the outcome. Reducing suffering matters, even and especially when all seems hopeless. Imagine if I refused to treat the next patient with a chronic disease, on the basis that they would never “get better”.

I make this connection with our city’s unhoused and their treatment because I think this pastor, this unknown sign holder, and many of us need to rethink what a homeless plan should look like. What our compassion and care looks like, regardless of desired outcomes. I believe this pastor wants to help, wants to heal. He looks at the homeless encampment and sees a disaster, a crisis. He’s not uncaring, he’s motivated. He’s a fixer. It’s a good impulse.

But what if we can’t fix the problem? Or what if it takes a really long time? What if, as the experts imply, this a result of lost social and institutional structures, multi-generational trauma, systemic racism, a society-wide dependence on numbing through substances? What if this isn’t a “everybody work harder!” problem? What if those with past trauma are unable to trust institutional structures? What if someone who was part of a residential school can’t bring themselves to spend one night in a shelter with the name “Mission” on it. Or in the basement of a church? What if someone with longstanding substance use can’t simply sober up by sheer willpower alone in order to jump through the hoops of “dry housing?” What if someone can’t focus on job training before they find a reliable place to sleep that night? What then?

What do we do when we can’t win, can’t fix?

Our compassion matters. It matters to the people around us, and it matters within us. The moment I saw the front page, and that “Not Welcome” sign, I thought of Jesus’ warning that it is possible to gain the world, and forfeit your soul. Forfeit what best and truest within you. I grieved for a soul so willing to display it’s fear and hatred, and filled with enough shame to hide its face. I think about the soul of someone who thinks that the way of Jesus includes making a city unwelcome. Who reads a story of compassion and healing and justifies that some are undeserving of help or healing. The soul of someone who sees the coming snow, and doesn’t think of those sleeping in tents as deserving of warmth. That soul is cold.

And that soul is my soul, too, of course. Who hasn’t turned away from a stranger asking for help, hiding behind judgments of deserving or undeserving? Who hasn’t hoped that the next shelter would be miles away from their house, their work, or their children’s school? It’s easy to focus on an outspoken community pastor, or an anonymous sign holder, but each time I choose judgement or dismissal over compassion, my soul is wounded too.

I wonder if our purest love is shown best in the darkest places. When a perfect outcome seems impossible, when we barely move the needle. When nothing is winnable or fixable, we have only our compassion, our desire to reduce the hurt. We touch the wound, and we are the ones who are healed.

There is a place for a call to action. A call for businesses, communities, and organizations to partner. A call for personal responsibility, for those housed and unhoused. A place for compassionate municipal strategies. Power structures can change. Systems can ensure less people fall through the cracks. Outdated ideologies can be replaced. But our compassion is nonnegotiable.

I know people who are sure they will see an end to homelessness. Their focus is unwavering, until they make it reality. But whether they are right or wrong, one thing I am sure of is this: they will work to that end with dedication and compassion until their dying day. With their every action, in a thousand different words, they will tell the soul in front of them: “You are welcome here”.

And they will see none of it as wasted.

(Photo by Jon Tyson on Unsplash)

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