#at this point i can't imagine them finding common ground

[perceptivehands]

Miss Scarlet and The Duke | 3.02 “Arabella’s”

#miss scarlet and the duke #eliza scarlet #william wellington #this is the ugliest gifset in history i'm sorry but i had to work with a low quality file #at this point i can't imagine them finding common ground #i feel like it takes a lot of work for william to accept who she is and who she wants to be #but please @ show be my guest and surprise me #hey look at me i'm being somewhat productive yay #~

[toruro]

— ✧ isohel

i·so·hel (noun) a line on a map connecting points having the same duration of sunshine

pairing. hong joshua x reader

description. fairytales can be rather misleading, can't they? when you and your mother are ripped away from your life at the castle, you spend over a decade resenting the royalty. so naturally, when you find prince joshua at your doorstep, you’re more than eager to shut the door on him. but as your life takes twists and turns, you happen to find yourself in the arms of a man you never thought you'd have to see again.

genre. slowburn, modern royalty au, angst, fluff

tags. prince!joshua, developing relationships, slut shaming, allusions / references to greek mythology, dialogue heavy, implied se

fic playlist

w/c. 26.2k

a/n. lwk don't like the beginning but i swear it gets better🙄 thank u @cheolhub for beta reading & @jeonghantis & @gyuswhore for reading it over and helping out w this bc i think i was going insane over this story by myself >_<; ... i highly suggest listening to the song isohel by eden! it was a major inspiration for this whole story and i think it encapsulates the vibes really well c: hope u enjoy!

The sound of glass shattering isn’t foreign to your ears.

It’s common in the sweltering heat of the summer when the air is hot and sticky. Maids running around to tend to the evenings balls and parties only for the sweat to breach their fingers and suddenly their stack of fine china goes tumbling to the ground.

A bed of hyacinths sits in front of you as you bring up the hose and spray them down, watching through the tinted glass as two male helpers rush to the woman on the ground, quickly helping her clean up the shards of glass.

Turning your attention back to the plants in front of you, you turn the hose off and roll it back into the corner as you skip to the end of the greenhouse where there’s your mother’s desk space. It’s a measly little space but she hardly sits there anyways, always tending to the gardens in the courtyards, leaving the floral and herbal greenhouses under your care while she’s away.

After all, your mother is a gardener and botanist in the Hong palace, and having been a trusted employee for the past half decade since your father passed, she exudes the little privileges of getting to bring her daughter to work.

At least that’s what you think, because you’re only nine years old and naive.

She teaches you well—you’ve only been accompanying her on the weekends when you don’t have school, but you’ve already picked up on how to tell the differences between an infected plant and an unaffected one, the characteristics of a good caterpillar and the characteristics of a bad one, the exact amount you should water each species, and exactly when you should let the vapor run down.

It’s easy work, and you love it.

You love sitting at your mother’s desk and imagining what it’d be like to be her—successful and working in the castle, doing what you love instead of working some stupid nine to five. You love looking out the glass of the greenhouses every few moments when you pause reading your book. You love the rare moments when you get to lay your eyes on one of the members of the royal family walking by.

You’ve started to pick up on their characters in the small frame of time you get to see them when they pass by. The Queen has kind eyes, the King is a bit intimidating, and Prince Joshua … Prince Joshua has soft features you can’t quite read.

“He’s only a year older than you!” one of your friends from school said when you told her that you stayed at the castle during the weekends to help your mother. “You should marry him and become princess!”

You had to push her away and watch her disappointed eyes when you told her that you hardly get to see him for more than ten seconds, even on the rare occasions that he crosses your vision.

The sound of glass shattering isn’t foreign to your ears, but hearing it more than twice in one hour does have some alarms ringing in your head. When you glance back up at the window, time stops.

Your mother is on the ground. Limbs sprawled out with eyes wide in horror, she scrambles against the rough stone path as a man looms over her. He dons a deep purple robe—the kind that belongs to the advisors of the Court—and your young mind races through the possibilities of what warrants the disgusted look on his face.

“Sneaking around with royal blood. Who do you think you are?”

A man watches, dark and brooding from the corner, and then you recognize him. Advisor Lee. He stops by the greenhouses sometimes—a high advisor of the Counsel and distance relative of the King’s. You’re nine years old and naive, but you are not dense.

Something had happened between your mother and Advisor Lee. Something tells you it’s more than you can understand, but in this moment, you feel you understand perfectly.

“You whore,” the man in the dark robes spits out, punctuating his disgust with a stomp of his feet right by your mother’s leg.

You’re only nine years old, but that is old enough to know that that is not a nice word. Nine years old, and you know that that means a very bad thing. Nine years old and when you look at your mother’s grief stricken face, you are certain that everything is about to change.

Your house was always on the edge of the town. Before the affair between Advisor Lee and your mother, it was because she liked having the space to open a garden in your backyard. The city is crowded and full of bustling roads and buildings—it’s no fit for the small cottage that she wanted.

Now, after the affair, your house is on the edge of the town for a different reason.

The first day after your mother is fired from her position at the castle, you go to school with your head hanging low. It’s in the city, and for the first time in your five years of schooling, your mother tells you to go alone.

“I can’t—I shouldn’t drive you anymore,” she tells you as you pack your backpack. She walks you to the bus station and hands you a paper telling you which stop to get off at and how to walk to school from there.

You’re not sure what you’re expecting when you two walk up to the little stop by the street, but when you approach the small crowd of people waiting for the next bus to come in, their chatter hushes. Sparing glances at you and your mother, they whisper—some hushed, some blatant, some sad, some angry.

That’s where she stops and puts a heavy hand on your shoulder. “You can take it from here, yeah?” she asks, but you know it’s not really a question. Nodding, you slowly walk towards the crowd of people as the next bus parks in front of the stop.

You don’t turn around and look at your mother because you know that’d be a mistake. Instead, you let your neck droop, following the quiet crowd as they pile into the bus, clutching the strings of your backpack.

There aren’t any places to sit, so you reach for a pole but suddenly the bus starts and you lurch forward, falling to the ground. There’s black and brown dust on the palms of your hand as you push yourself up, no one saying a word or bothering to help as you keep your head down and grip onto a pole.

The knees of your stockings are dirtied, and it’s the only thing you look at the whole ride, it’s the only thing you look at when you silently take the walk to school, and it’s the only thing you look at when you make your way onto campus.

It’s the whispers again, and as you quietly sink into your normal seat, you hear them louder.

Did you hear about her mother? She isn’t allowed in the castle grounds anymore. What did her mother do? I can’t believe she showed up, I’d be crying at home. I wonder what she’s thinking—

Nothing. You think nothing when your teacher announces that class will be starting. All you focus on is the board and your notebook. You spend your recess and lunch at the school’s library, and as soon as the final bell rings, you scurry off campus and towards the bus station.

It isn’t like the morning—people don’t hush and stare, but nine years old is smart enough to know that it’s because they don’t know you’re your mother’s daughter. There aren’t any empty seats just like the morning but this time, a nice gentleman offers you his spot.

You can tell he isn’t so sure of his decision though, when you finally get off at your stop and you run off to your mother who’s waiting for you by the bench. From the corner of your vision, you watch the man through the bus window, jaw tight and gaze cold as he watches you slip your hand into your mother’s.

Your mother doesn’t talk on the short walk home. She doesn’t ask you about school and she doesn’t ask you about what the other kids said. You figure that she doesn’t need to hear it anyways, and so you purse your lips together.

You have a lot to get used to.

Your life doesn’t change much, and you get used to it.

School days are spent with your head buried in a new book with every break you have. Your time at home is nothing but studying and your mother teaching you how to tend to the garden in your yard.

Soon you are graduating and moving on with your life as you make the transition to college, although you can’t say much changes. You study, you read, and occasionally you commission a project. It’s usually just renovating a citizen’s yard, sometimes it’s designing a public garden, but it’s never anything too serious.

Right now, you’re perched on a wooden stool, elbows leaning on the counter as you swipe your thumb over your tongue to flip the next page of your book. The paper is worn through, soft under your touch as a show for all it’s been through—bought second hand from your boss.

Your boss is a kind old man who happened to be a friend of your late grandfather’s, and when his little bookstore was teetering on the edge of being forgotten, you couldn’t refuse the offer to step in to work.

You’re around halfway through the book when you hear the familiar ringing of the bell above the door, head snapping up only to see your boss at the front door with a few envelopes in one hand, a plastic bag in the other.

“Holding up the fort, I see,” he greets with a low chuckle as you stand up and walk over, taking the bag from his hand to help out.

“As always, Mr. Min,” you reply, setting the bag of books down on the counter. “Are these—”

“They’re your mothers. I was walking by your house this morning and she asked me to take these and add them to our stock, since she said she doesn’t need them anymore.”

“Huh,” you say softly, taking out the various books about plants. “Not sure how big the market for gardening books is anymore, but I’m sure I can add it to our catalog after hours today,” you mutter, setting them on the table behind the register as he places the letters in his hand.

“Your mother also told me to give you this,” he says, his tone an octave lower as he plucks out one the envelopes and hands it to you. You knit your eyebrows together, wiping your dusty hands down on your pants before taking a look at it. “It’s from—”

“The castle,” you whisper, holding the envelope closer to your face to make sure you’re seeing it correctly. “Oh my god—it’s from the castle.”

“Yeah. Must be important if your mom felt the need to send it through me instead of just waiting for you to come home and take a look at it.”

“A-are you sure this is meant for me?” you manage to ask, flipping the envelope over a few times to make sure you read your name correctly.

“Yup,” Mr. Min replies, pointing down at where the intended recipient is listed. Sure enough, it’s your name listed in dark and bold ink in one corner, and then there’s that stupid royal emblem of the sun in the other corner.

Your heart sinks to your stomach at the possibilities of what could be inside, raking your mind for an answer. Was something wrong? Was it about your mother? Or was this just some big mistake?

Dear Madam,

The Hong Royal Counsel wishes to find you well, as we present a request.

Your reputation with your mother’s work as well as the operation of your own gardens throughout the city, along with your academic achievements at our very own Hong University have reached our ears, and we believe you possess the skills required for a special project we have in mind.

You will have the opportunity to lead this project as you please and earn a notable financial sum in payment for your efforts.

Please indicate your acceptance by replying to this letter at your earliest convenience. We eagerly await your response and sincerely hope that you will be able to grace our kingdom with your talent and presence.

Thank you,

Hong Royal Counsel

You don’t have to read the letter more than once before you scoff, tossing the crisp paper and letting it drift down onto the counter before muttering under your breath, “Who do they think they are?” Crumpling the envelope and letter up, you throw it down into the trash can by your chair.

Knocks on your door aren’t normal. The delivery and mailmen know better than to do that, leaving your packages and mail by the doorstep and doing no more than that.

Knocks on your door usually mean Mr. Min is here for something—picking up some of the veggies your mother grew because the store prices are too high, dropping off a book, or indulging in some pleasantries and casual small talk.

It’s eight in the morning when you hear the soft rapping against your front door. Your mom is in the kitchen and your room, right next to the foyer, has walls thin enough to let the sounds through. You’re on your bed though, and it’s comfortable, warm, and it’s too early to be out and about anyways. You’ve just spent the past nine months laboring away at college, so you’re granting yourself these few moments of peace in the morning.

Pressing your head into the pillow, you try to drown out the noise of your mother conversing with Mr. Min this early in the morning. After you hear the door open, there’s a silence and for a moment, you think you’ve succeeded in plugging your ears well enough.

You’re about to smile to yourself and drift back into a heavy sleep before you hear a loud gasp.

It takes a lot to surprise your mother—you’ve come to learn that in recent years. It takes a lot to stun her, to have her gasp as you just heard. Scurrying out of bed, you press your ear against the wall in hopes to catch a glimpse of what’s going on.

All you hear is silence.

It hardly takes a second for you to shove off your blankets and throw yourself into the hallway, rushing towards the foyer where you see your mother standing in front of the open door. She stays unmoving and you wince for a few moments, eyes still adjusting to the morning light as you make your way closer to the door to see what exactly has her so shocked.

And then you catch it: a glint of that wretched, golden sun emblem stitched onto a purple velvet coat.

“What the f—”

Your mother’s hand flies up and grabs your wrist tightly. It’s the first time you see her move, and as she turns around to face you with dark, warning eyes, you press your lips shut as you glance over her shoulder. In front of your doorstep is a man you never thought you’d get to see in person again, not after that day.

Prince Joshua is just as handsome as the tabloids and social media make him out to be, and his presence in your life also seems to be equally infuriating.

“What is he doing here?” you hiss, pulling your mother closer to you so she’s close enough to hear you.

Her eyes are somber, and you silently wonder how she can be so calm, so docile, so—so tame. “They’re here for you,” she whispers, turning her whole body so her back faces the prince.

“What are you talking about? Why would—”

“The letter sent to you from the kingdom. I thought you told me it was a mistake.”

“It was,” you mutter, eyes glancing at Prince Joshua behind her. His gaze is averted, presumably out of respect for the conversation you’re having with your mother right now, but you can’t find it in yourself to appreciate him for it.

“Then why is he asking for your name?”

You gulp anxiously, eyes flickering between your mother’s eyes and the floor. “I don’t know.”

“Talk to him. It must be important,” she orders, walking forward and toward the kitchen and you grab her shoulder quickly.

“Are you kidding me? Why—why would I talk to him? Why would I talk to any of them?” you argue louder than you intended, and your mother swats your hand away sharply.

“They’re royalty,” she says, voice strained with caution.

“And? It’s not medieval times where they actually rule over us so—”

Your mother sighs heavily and then it hits you that no matter how much logic you try to expend, it’d be futile. “Talk to him. It isn’t quite like you have a choice.”

“You of all people shouldn’t put up with this,” you state and the second the words leave your lips, you regret it. Her face hardens and there’s a cold feeling that sinks in your stomach as she frees herself of your grasp and marches away.

You’re left watching her back fade into the rest of your house as your eyes are wide and you’re becoming increasingly aware of the presence of another person behind you. A person who is very important and very famous and very much a representation of all the things you loathe.

Turning on your heel, you don’t bother to push your lips up into a morning grin facing Prince Joshua with tired eyes and frown etched into your mouth. Taking a deep breath, you glance back at your mother who is in a far off room, deciding that whatever he needs to say to you, she doesn’t need to hear.

Slipping on some slippers, you quickly walk out of the house and close the door behind you, putting you right in front of Prince Joshua who waits for you with bright eyes.

“Hi,” he greets, voice airy and light as he takes a few steps back so he can bow, of which you begrudgingly return. “Sorry to bother you so early in the morning, I was just taking care of some work in the area and was told to stop by and talk to you about something.”

He sounds sincere, and his lips curve into a pleasant expression when he speaks, and you wonder if he’s plain stupid playing dumb to save you the humiliation of the situation—a royal prince speaking to the daughter of ‘a slut who seduced the royal advisor.’

So unable to decipher anything about his true intentions, you ask bluntly, “Is it about the letter I got from the kingdom two weeks ago?”

Prince Joshua chuckles nervously, rubbing the back of his neck and you catch the fancy white fabric of his buttoned up shirt underneath the coat. “I mean, yes it is and—”

You scoff, crossing your arms over your chest. “Why do you guys even bother sending letters? It’s the 21st century, you know? Emails exist.”

His face reddens, looking away before pursing his lips together. “Some things are just kept out of tradition,” Prince Joshua reasons quickly. “But I totally understand that, we’ll keep emailing in mind. But for the meantime, that’s, uh, kind of what I’m here for. We didn’t hear back a response, and I would like to take your answer back to the castle for you.

“Isn’t no response enough of a response?”

“Well—”

“My answer is no, if that wasn’t obvious,” you say, turning back to the door. “Is that all?”

“Wait!” he exclaims, grabbing your arm with his white leather gloves. It’s a bit surprising, really—he seems awfully timid for a prince and you’re a bit unnerved by how he hasn’t reprimanded you yet for being disrespectful. “Is there a reason why you don’t want to take on the job? If there are some specifics, maybe we can adjust the arrangement so it’s more to your liking.”

Your eyes widen, bewildered. “What? No I—I don’t care for anything like that, I won’t take the job.”

“Aren’t you just a ray of sunshine,” he mutters under his breath before his eyebrows knit together as he looks at the ground, seemingly trying to figure something out. “Is it the money? We can negotiate your salary,” he offers and you shake your head.

“No, it’s not the money—I don’t care about the money,” you say harshly. “It’s not any of that, I just don’t want to.”

“Can you tell me why? It’s just, I’ll have to report this back to the Counsel and if I’m not able to recruit you, they’d at least want some reasoning for why.”

Inhaling sharply, it takes all your self control to not let your eye twitch and slam the door in his face. “Are you really asking me why I don’t want to?” Pursing your lips together, you glare at him harshly. “You were there that day, weren’t you?” you ask more quietly, and for a moment you see Prince Joshua falter. “Not that I’d expect you to care but surely you can at least understand why I don’t want to.”

“I-I’m sorry, but I really can’t change the past.”

Scoffing, you turn on your heel and open the door. “I’m not asking you to.”

“Wait—just wait a sec’!” he calls out, stopping the door with his palm before you close it. “You’re in your second year at Hong University, right?” He doesn’t wait for a response before he continues. “We’ll pay for the rest of your tuition.”

The air in your lungs seems stuck for a passing moment, and you shake your head to yourself, stepping into your house and turning around one last time with cold eyes and a deep frown. “No.”

The prince looks around hastily before blurting out, “We’ll do all of it!”

“All of what?”

“We’ll pay for all of your tuition—reimburse you for what you’ve already paid.” You don’t care. You shouldn’t care. “All of it, plus your hourly wage,” he adds, and you don’t even have a chance to think before you feel your mother’s hand on your back.

“She’ll do it.”

Your mother chuckles as she helps you tie the lavender colored robe around your waist. You’re not sure what she finds so funny about this, but you bite your tongue when you start to catch on how she ties the ribbons with such ease.

Over ten years of being away from the castle can’t erase the time she spent there, tying her own robe every morning before she was stripped of her title, and in turn, also the life she worked so hard to build up.

As you look down at the smooth fabric sent to you a week earlier from the castle, you’re forced to begrudgingly admire the intricate embroidery. The collar and ribbons are decorated with a darker purple stitching that runs in all sorts of twists and turns and swivels around the curves of your body.

“They’ve made them look nicer since I’ve last seen them,” she thinks out loud, matting her hands down your shoulders to smooth the fabric down one last time before taking a look.

“I don’t understand why you’re still so—” You inhale sharply and press your lips together, warning yourself to not say anything more when she shoots you a cautionary look. “Sorry,” you mutter, turning away so you can glance at yourself in the mirror. You do look pretty nice, if you had to admit.

“Just think about the money,” your mother encourages. “They’re covering the cost of all your schooling—all those days spent at Mr. Min’s can now go towards things you enjoy, rather than paying for your university.”

“I guess,” you grumble, adjusting your hair one last time before grabbing your phone and keys, walking towards the foyer.

“You know the way right?” your mother calls out as you slip on your shoes and walk out onto the front porch.

“I wish I didn’t,” is all you say, low and under your breath as you make your way to the car.

The castle lies in the heart of the city, so it’s quite the drive. You’re careful as you try to keep your robes clean, bunching it up to your thighs as you drive, and once you’ve made your way to the castle, you’re sure to make sure the hem of the bottom doesn’t hit the ground.

Reporting to the entrance that was given in your email (why they send emails for instructions but not the actual invitation to your job still remains a mystery to you), you carefully tuck your phone into a crevice of your robes.

The entrance starts at a gate on the east end of the castle, and you make your way to the little hut that sits at one end where a woman in a lavender polo and dress pants sits at a desk. Knocking on the window, you smile nervously as she looks up from her papers.

“Can I help you?”

“Yes!” you say, holding up your phone and pointing to your first day instructions. “It’s my first day here, and I’m not sure how to get inside and all.”

“Did they give you a code?”

“Uh, yeah let me check again,” you murmur, looking back at your phone to find the 5 digit code you were sent. “It’s, uh—32423.” The lady hums and nods, checking something on her computer before looking up at you with a smile.

“That’s correct. From now on you can just come through the smaller gate on the side—it should be to the left of this big gate, and just put in whatever code you have. It changes every few days but you’ll be notified with the new password every time it does.”

“Thank you,” you say, glancing over your shoulder to look at the gate she’s talking about.

“For now, just follow me. Since it’s your first day, I’ll show you the way to the … where was it you need to get to?”

“Right here it says the Advisory Quart?”

The girl’s eyes widen as she sits up from her seat and walks out of the hut, leading you toward the smaller gate. “Seriously?” she asks as she punches in the code, the gate automatically opening once she’s done.

The gate leads to a narrow pathway that runs slightly uphill in the midst of a lush field of trimmed green grass and sparse flowers that was previously hidden from you by the large stone halls. You remember the scene vaguely, but it’s a lot lovelier in person than you remember. Glancing up the pathway, you catch sight of the large castle in front of you, and the vision has an uneasy feeling floating in your stomach.

“Uh yeah, is that surprising?” you respond, hoping the small talk will distract you, even if it’s only a little.

“I mean the Advisory Quart is no joke. Those people work like crazy dogs—” she says with a laugh before looking at you with wide eyes. “Wait, I’m sorry—please don’t tell anyone I said that, they’ll—”

“Don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me. But please do continue—what were you saying? I haven’t been in that castle in a long—I’ve never been to the castle before, so I’m not up to speed with all the different Quarts and sectors and stuff.”

“Oh well, it’s just that the Advisory Quart does a lot of work … I swear they’re always running around, talking about some new project they’re working on,” she says as you follow her up some steps, nearing an entrance to a building connected to the castle.

“What kind of projects?” you ask curiously.

“Oh gosh, everything, I tell you, they do pretty much everything. From helping the King with his own decisions to doing absolutely random, huge projects, there always seems to be someone who’s on top of everything. I remember I had a friend whose husband worked up there—they were working on designing a whole new ballroom and no one had any idea why! So what are you going to be doing there?”

Chuckling nervously, you aren’t sure if you should tell this girl that you don’t really know. “One of those random projects, I assure you,” you tell her because you’re pretty sure it’s true. After all, you’re almost positive they won’t have you be doing anything that’s worthwhile.

“Ah, well you’ll probably be swamped either way,” the girl says with a sigh as you reach a large wooden door. “Anyways, we’ll part ways here. Just go through these doors and there’ll be a big hallway. Ignore all the different corridors and doors on the side, and just go straight and you can see there’s an open room at the end of this hallway. That’s where your check-in will be, and the people there will direct you to wherever you need to go.”

You blink a few times, taking in all the information before nodding meekly, bowing and thanking the girl for her time as she walks away. Taking a deep breath, you open the door with a loud creaking noise, stepping into the grand hallway.

The walls are beige with ornate accents lining the bottom and top, intricate designs carved into the ceilings that hang chandeliers in intervals. Your sandals clack against smooth travertine marble as your eyes roam the entrances to different corridors and rooms, doors dark and wooden, similar to the one you just entered through.

There aren’t many people in the long hallways, passing by only a few others who seem to have their attention busied by papers or their phone. Some of them are wearing similar fashioned robes to yours, while most of the others are wearing the same lavender colored polo and white slacks as the girl who brought you here.

Smoothing the fabric below your waist one more time as you near the large open room you were directed to, you glance around and find a desk with a kind looking receptionist talking to a man wearing your kind of robes.

Quietly approaching the desk, you stand a few feet behind him, patiently waiting for them to finish so you can step up. Neither of them seem to notice, being caught up in a conversation that seems a bit of a mix of professional and leisurely.

Twiddling with your fingers behind your back, you rock side to side on your feet as you wait for the two to finish up talking about how they’re excited for the next ball that’s coming up, not bothering to think about who these people might be and why they’re even invited to it.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” the man at the counter calls out, “I can help you.” He smiles and waves you over before nudging the other man on his shoulder. “Seokmin, go—you’re distracting me.”

The man he pushed is a handsome looking guy, light brown hair falling just above his eyes as he turns around and gives a small smile, stepping to the side but not fully backing away. “Ah, sorry about that. Go ahead, we were just catching up.”

“No worries,” you say quickly, walking up to the receptionist. “I’m here to find the Advisory Quart I think? I was told to report to this entrance, and the lady at the front told me to come here—it’s my first time here so—”

“Your first time in the castle?” the other man asks you with wide eyes.

“Uh, well—”

“Don’t mind him—Seokmin, you know better than to mess with the newbies,” the receptionist murmurs, and you frown at the word. He catches on and looks up at you, holding a hand out. “No offense.”

“N-none taken. So could you help me—I’m really not sure where to go.”

“Yeah of course. Does your email say who you’ll be reporting to?”

“It says here ‘Mr. Park.’”

“Oh okay, his room number’s going to be 77, right down that corridor right there,” the receptionist tells you kindly, pointing at one of the side hallways you saw while walking here. “Since it’s your first day, I’ll let him know that you’ll be coming down so he can be ready. I’m sorry, what’s your name?”

“Thank you so much,” you say bowing, quickly telling him your name. So caught up in the kindness of these peers, you almost forgot why you were so reluctant to come here in the first place, but no worries, this receptionist does a good job of reminding you.

His lips press into a thin line as raises a brow, asking you to repeat your last name again. When your answer slips from your lips, it’s much quieter. A heavy cloud sinks over you as you realize that even after years away, your family name is still tainted.

“Okay,” the receptionist finally says briskly, and you’re taken aback by how cold his voice has become. “I’ll let him know you’re coming down. You can proceed now.”

He doesn’t give you a ‘good luck,’ or a ‘have a nice day,’ or a ‘do you have any questions,’ despite his cheery attitude from before. Now he’s looking at you with an expressionless face and eyes that won’t meet yours as you shamefully turn away.

So caught up in the disappointment, you hardly notice how the other man—Seokmin—is still watching the scene unfold. As you walk away from the open room, there’s a hand on your wrist. Whipping around, you’re faced with a Seokmin whose face seems unreadable, just like the receptionists. Except something is … different. He seems sincere, and you feel safe.

“You might get lost trying to get there,” Seokmin says rather casually, letting go of your hand and walking next to you. “Come on, I’ll show you the way—I’m working under Mr. Park too actually, I’m his intern—so I know the way pretty well and can fill you in on what he’s like.”

You wonder why Seokmin isn’t acting like the receptionist. Your family name is still somewhat taboo in the city outside the castle, so you were pretty confident when walking into the actual place of the ‘crime scene’ that you’d be even more … generally disliked.

Seokmin seems to be different though, and you can’t quite figure out why.

Seokmin lets you know Mr. Park is mean when he wants, which seems to be always. Direct with his words but also, you have to read in between the lines sometimes if you don’t want to get scolded. You’re not sure what to do with that information, because Seokmin doesn’t tell you much else.

You walk down the corridor with him before stopping in front of a wooden door to your right, labeled with that familiar sun emblem and a golden plated plaque reading ‘77.’ “C’mon, he should be in here right now,” Seokmin says, pressing against the frame and pushing the door open.

Inside is a room unlike the others you’ve seen before. The ceiling is much lower and baskets of plants hang from it, vines lining the limestone walls, and pots and beds of plants sit by the smaller desks that litter the area. There’s a larger desk at the end opposite to the door, and you see a man with grey hair and firm eyes sitting at the ornate chair, reading through a stack of papers.

“Ah, Seokmin,” he says, standing up when he notices the two of you by the door, and it’s not you realize that this man is Mr. Park. Both you and Seokmin bow hastily. “I was waiting for the two of you to arrive.” His gaze then turns to you, and it’s sharp. “What took you so long?” His tone is harsh and you almost wince. “It isn’t your first time in the castle,” Mr. Park says bluntly, and for once you are taken aback because no one has addressed the cloud hanging over your head so directly yet.

“I’m sorry sir, I haven’t been here in—”

“No excuses. Don’t be late again.”

“Y-yes sir,” you reply meekly, faltering in your step a little.

Mr. Park sighs heavily and looks at Seokmin, waving him off. “Go to the Ballroom and ask around to see if they need anything for tonight. Don’t be slow like last time.”

“Yes sir! Right on it,” Seokmin says with a nod, quickly turning on his heel and scurrying out of the room.

“And for you …” Mr. Park mutters as he takes in your figure with an unnerving look on his face. “I need you to lead a project.”

Your eyes bulge out of your head. “Lead a project? I don’t even know what—”

“Word has it that the Prince himself had to bribe you with a whole four years of Hong tuition to get you here. Surely you didn’t think you’d be given light work.” people knew about that?

“Well, I didn’t know much about anything and I don’t even know what work I’m supposed—”

“You’ll figure it out, soon enough,” Mr. Park tells you briskly, walking over to his desk where a large chalkboard sits to its left. Using a stick, he points at a word written in a corner. Garden. “The Queen has a courtyard that she no longer likes the look of. It’s been stripped down, and you’re in charge of turning it into a garden of her liking.”

You knit your eyebrows together. “A-a whole courtyard?”

Mr. Park raises a brow. “Are you saying that it’s too much for you?”

“N-no!” you exclaim quickly. “I’m just surprised, that’s all. I don’t get why I would be chosen to do this.”

Mr. Park huffs, and you wonder how such a tiny old man can fit so much sass in him. “If you must know: the Queen loved how your …” he pauses and within a fraction of a second you have a feeling where this is going, “… your mother designed the gardens on the West end.”

Mr. Park walks towards his desk and sits down, not looking at you as he cards through a few binders. “The Queen wants a similar style for this courtyard but since we can’t exactly have her back …”

You wince for real this time as you conclude, “… you tried to get the next closest thing.”

Mr. Park nods, not returning a snarky comment this time, much to your pleasure. “I’m the head of Design & Architecture, by the way, if you have any questions ask me—as long as it’s not stupid. You lead your project—design it and plan it. When you need people to work on it just talk to Seokmin and he’ll assign someone. You have three months to finish it. If you need an extension, you’ll have to get it approved by me.”

“Okay,” you respond quickly, trying to take in all the information at once. “Is there, like, a theme? Anything she wants in particular?”

“That’s a stupid question,” Mr. Park says bluntly and you frown as he points at a desk behind you. “Your desk is there. Any information you need will be there.”

“Y-yes sir, thank you,” you say, bowing and turning on your heel to sit down at your new chair. The desk is dark, wooden, and completely barren except for a thin folder set in the middle. Opening it, there’s a single paper inside with only a few bullet points typed out, and it hardly takes you a moment to read through all of it.

It’s vague—your only real requirements are the adherence to the kingdom’s symbolic purple colors, and inclusion of a general theme throughout the courtyard.

You furrow your eyebrows at the lack of guidance—were you really left to make such major decisions about such a large space in a castle you haven’t been in years? There’s so much room for error and disappointment and rejection, and after the past years of being treated like your family was nothing but a mistake, you aren’t sure if you can handle any more of it.

Closing your eyes, you absentmindedly nod to yourself in a silent promise. Closing the folder, you stand up. “Mr. Park, sir, do you know where the courtyard—”

“There is a map on the wall. Figure it out.”

You huff, glancing at the large map of the castle next to the chalkboard. This is going to be harder than you thought.

You run into Seokmin just as you leave 77, and he helps lead you to the courtyard. “So you’re working on this one, huh,” he says under his breath as you both appear in front of a large plot of land surrounded by castle buildings on all sides. You’re both standing on the East entrance to the courtyard, and there are four adjacent and opposite entrances on all other sides.

“Uh, yeah,” you say steadily, glancing back down at your minimal instructions before looking back up at the courtyard. It’s a square, and if you had to estimate, each side would be around 50 yards long, leaving quite a great deal of space for you to work with it.

“Pretty big project, huh,” Seokmin says, although his tone seems much more lighthearted than your mood. How the hell are you supposed to transform this in three months?

“Yeah,” you mutter, squinting at the bright sunlight as you analyze the plot.

“You know, I can totally help if you want,” Seokmin begins to say, and you take note of how quickly he talks. “I don’t know if Mr. Park told you but you can basically ask me for help on anything and like, I’m really doing this whole interning thing for fun—” Who the hell works as an intern for Mr. Park, for fun? “—so I’d be happy to help.”

“Thanks. I’ll ask if I need anything.”

“Great!” Seokmin cheers, clapping his hands together before looking behind your shoulder and letting his smile brighten. He waves at someone behind you and you purse your lips together, wondering if you should brace yourself for yet another salty interaction.

“Minnie!” a deep voice greets and suddenly, your feet seem glued in their spot. You know that voice.

“Shua, hey!” Seokmin says cheerily, and you silently cringe. “Crazy running into you here, gosh, I haven’t seen you since last week!”

Prince Joshua laughs, and it reminds you of all those years ago when you watched him from inside the greenhouse. You hate how you remember.

“Yeah, my fencing instructor let me off earlier so I thought I might browse around the castle for a bit,” he explains, and when it all goes quiet and you realize that he must be looking at you, but you don’t dare to turn around.

“Oh,” Seokmin exclaims, as if he’s just realized that he forgot something. You feel a tapping on your shoulder, and for a second you debate just running the other way and never letting yourself return to the castle but for something, you’re planted in your place. “Hey, look,” he says quietly in your ear, “It’s the Prince.”

Like you don’t fucking know that. Nodding, you slowly follow his lead and turn around, eyes trained on the ground as you bow.

“Oh, well if it isn’t that little ray of sunshine,” Prince Joshua says, and it takes everything to not let your eye twitch as you finally look up at him. He’s wearing the same royal uniform you say to him when you showed up on his doorstep and his eyes are crinkled as he smiles widely.

Your face burns as Seokmin’s eyes flicker back and forth between you, and your lips are pressed together in an awkward silence. “You know each other?” His face displays nothing but perplexion for a few moments but then it seems that some of the cogs turned and his lips open wide into a large ‘o,’ and Seokmin waves his finger while nodding. “Oh you’re the girl Shua said he had to offer four years worth of—”

“Seokmin,” Prince Joshua interrupts, putting his hand over his friend’s mouth after catching the look of mortification on your face for bringing it up. “Mr. Park was calling you, I’m pretty sure.”

“Ugh, are you kidding me? I thought this would be fun for the summer but he actually has me doing stuff!” As the two converse casually, you wonder how hard it’d be to quickly slip away.

“Not sure what you expected,” Joshua chides his friend before Seokmin groans and you hear the heavy footsteps of him walking away. He calls out your name once and your eyes shoot up as you bashfully wave your hand at him, bidding goodbye.

You’re left in this corridor with the empty thoughts in your head and the goddamn prince of the kingdom. You half expect him to just wave at you and go about his own business, but it seems like you still have a lot of learning to do.

After all, Prince Joshua is a fickle man. “It’s nice to see you again, Sunshine,” he greets, and you think you might pass out from embarrassment. Glancing around, you see a few maids overhear him using the name and murmuring their own whispers amongst themselves as they rush away.

“H-hi,” you say nervously, suddenly aware that much attention is on you now that the prince is speaking to you.

“So this is what you’re working on?” he asks curiously, not paying a single mind to your awkwardness, walking toward the door which leads to the East entrance to the courtyard.

“Yes sir,” you murmur. You could be snappish outside the walls and in the boundaries of your own home but here, you’re bound by royal courtesy and witnesses that surround you. Compliance is all you can manage out in the open.

“Don’t call me sir—you’re around the same age as me, so it feels weird,” Joshua says dismissively, and you furrow your brows at how casual he’s being. “So,” he starts, looking out at the empty yard of dirt, “you got any idea of what you’re going to do with it?”

“Not a clue,” you reply honestly, keeping your answers brisk. Joshua seems to catch on and he pouts at you. How can a man act so childish? The thought lingers in your head for a moment before he starts talking to you.

“So cold. Brighten up Sunshine. I’ll stop in soon to see how it’s going here—I’m interested!” he says cheerily before stepping back and nodding. You bow as he walks away, waving to you one last time before leaving you in the corridor with not a single thought in his mind.

There seems to be a distinct odd air around the prince, except you can’t quite place why that is.

It’s been three weeks since you started working at the castle—time passes quickly when you have loads of work to do and not much time to do it. You spent the first week hunched over at your desk simply raking your mind for ideas, for anything that would give you even a smidge of inspiration.

77 is rather sparse. It’s only really you and Mr. Park actually working in there, with the occasional Seokmin running in and out to tend to everyone’s miniscule needs.

And then there’s Jihoon, who is the only other person who actually works at his desk, even if it’s only for an hour a day. Jihoon is slightly brooding and always has his nose buried in some work, but he seems standoff-ish to just about everyone. He isn’t unkind though, just … just reserved, and you feel thankful that there’s another person somewhat like you here.

77 is kind to you and your heart. Everyone works on their own schedule and is in their own head, and no one seems to treat you extraordinarily different. You wish the same would go for the rest of the castle.

On the second day of your work, the embroidered name on the fabric over your right breast was clear enough for people to start learning who you were and recognize your face.

But you’re used to the stares—both the subtle and obvious ones—and you are used to the whispers, the guessing games about whether or not you’re a slut just like your mother was.

You’re not, by the way, but you’ve had enough experience with these kinds of people to know that they can guess all they want but you know the answer, and the truth will come to light at some point. You don’t have to prove yourself to anyone, they'll figure it out on their own. Eventually.

By the second week, you figured out a plan and needed to get to work on executing it. Seokmin seemed to be pleased when you asked him for help on that.

“I need people who can build a pathway,” was all you needed to tell him and then he was on the phone, and then the next day you had ten men ready for you by the dirt field ready to work. “I want stone tiles and it needs to curve exactly like this,” you told them, showing them a scaled down map of the area with a long, curvy line running from the North to South ends, and another even more curvy one running from the East to West end.

They didn’t ask questions, which you’re grateful for, because coming up with it was a whole feat on its own. Explaining it would be a whole other story.

As you walk up to the castle’s entrance today, you catch sight of a girl who sits in her little hut in front of the East gate. She’s the same girl who helped you on the first day, you realize. She was kind then, you remember, but now as you meet her gaze, she turns away and pretends to go back to her phone.

You don’t frown or let the gesture sear your heart because in all honesty, that’s exactly what you’re expecting. Sighing, you make your way to the smaller gate and walk the small way up to the actual castle grounds before heading straight to 77.

Jihoon is sitting at his desk but is just about to get up, sending you a quick nod as he stacks his files and walks out of the room. Mr. Park isn’t here, for once, although you did overhear some information about a ball happening tonight so you figure he must be busy.

You’re thankful Seokmin is here, and you catch him watering one of the plants. “Hey, what are you doing?” you ask him hastily, walking up behind his back before grabbing the watering pot from his hands.

“Um … watering … the plants?”

“These are yarrows,” you emphasize, pointing at the white flowers he was just watering.

“Okay … I am really not sure what to do with that information,” Seokmin says slowly as if he isn’t quite processing your words.

Huffing, you tell him, “Yarrows don’t need a lot of water. You aren’t watering them … I think a better word would be drowning.”

“Oh,” Seokmin mutters, looking down at that pot that’s now rich with soaked soil. “Sorry, I, uh, didn’t know,” he apologizes, and you purse your lips together because he does sound sincere.

“It’s okay … sorry for being mean about it,” you add quietly, returning the pot to his hand. “I can send you a list later—of all the plants here and how much water they need.”

Seokmin’s ears perk up. “Really? Thank you, but you seriously don’t have to, you know.”

“I know, but I enjoy talking about plants and stuff. And I’d rather the ones in this room be taken care of nicely, so the least I can do is help you,” you offer before retreating to your desk. “I think I need your help by the way, so can you come with me?” you ask, pulling out a measuring tape from a drawer.

Seokmin nods, dropping the watering bucket by his own desk and following behind you as you leave the room. The journey from the Advisory Quart to your courtyard, which is located near Royal Residence Quart, is quite the walk, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t a little bit pleased that you had someone like Seokmin as company.

“How’s the project turning out?” he asks as you make your way down the long hallways. You catch a few other workers spare the two of you glances and you try to hold your head up and look forward when you respond.

“I’m a little behind,” you admit. “But the construction manager told me that they should be finished with the pathway today, and I asked them to start tilling some other parts of the field so I can get some flora in there soon.”

“Oh really That’s nice—I stopped by the place just the other day and the pathway was looking pretty cool—the color fit in really well.”

“Hm, that’s good … I was worried about that,” you murmur to yourself thoughtfully, pulling out your phone so you can glance at the list of things you need to get done before heading back to 77. Tucking the device back into a crevice of your robe, you smile as you near the East end courtyard entrance. “I gotta get a plaque up here or something,” you remind yourself, looking at the empty space above the entrance.

“You want me to get on that soon?” Seokmin offers and you shrug.

“I guess. I’ll still have to come up with a name for this place …” you say, walking into the courtyard.

“Wow,” Seokmin mutters as he follows behind you. “The pathway looks great!” He pats your back and you throw him a small smile when you look over the two twisting paths that connect the 4 ends of the courtyard. “What was it that you needed my help with again—Oh hey! Shua!”

Oh for fuck’s sake—

“Seokminnie!” that familiar, smooth voice appears from behind you as Seokmin turns on his heel and scurries toward his friend. Slowly and carefully, you tuck your hands behind your back and bow when you turn around and are met with the sight of Prince Joshua. “Sunshine,” he greets with a smile after exchanging his casual pleasantries with his friend.

“Good morning sir,” you murmur as Seokmin bounces up and down on feet from a newfound excitement. How does he have this much energy at nine in the morning?

“I thought I said don’t call me sir,” Prince Joshua tells you, scrunching his face up when you let the word slip from your mouth. “Feels weird.”

“I’m sorry but you’re kind of the prince. I don’t think there’s anything else for me to call you other than ‘sir,’” you huff lowly before slapping a hand over your mouth. You’re not scared of what Joshua might do, per se, but the thought of someone else overhearing your snarky remark has you reminding yourself to be more careful.

Joshua only chuckles. Is there anything that bothers him? “You’re funny,” he comments. “You can call me Joshua, like Minne over here,” he tells you, patting Seokmin’s shoulder affectionately.

Your face sours and you shake your head, “I’m sorry that doesn’t feel right.”

Joshua rolls his eyes playfully, choosing to ignore what you said and instead looks around the courtyard. “Nice pathway. It’s cool that it isn’t straight—is it supposed to be something?”

“Sort of,” you say, turning around to look at the stone on the ground. “It’s confusing.”

Joshua scoffs. “Try me.”

You furrow your eyebrows. Why Prince Joshua—or as he would like you to call him, just Joshua—is so curious about a random courtyard is beyond you. “They’re just lines that follow the movement of sunlight. I guess. I don’t really know how to explain it.”

“That’s cool,” Seokmin chimes in when he sees you pulling out a roll of measuring tape. “Oh yeah, sorry, I didn’t get to hear what you said you needed help with.”

“Oh yeah, I just want to measure a—”

“Sorry for interrupting,” Joshua says, and you frown when he pulls out a buzzing phone, holding it up to Seokmin’s face. “What did you do this time—why is Mr. Park calling me?”

Seokmin’s eyes widen in panic as you watch the scene unfold. “What?! I haven’t done anything wrong recently. Well I don’t think I did and I’m pretty sure—”

He’s cut off by Joshua pressing his finger over his lip, effectively shutting him up. You almost laugh at the way Seokmin complies so quickly, but hold it back as Joshua holds the phone up to his ear. The sounds that come from the call are muffled but you can vaguely make out the voice of your boss before Joshua sighs and ends the call.

“What are yarrows and what did you do to them?” he asks his friend, and this time you actually do stifle out a giggle. Joshua glances at you as you quickly press your lips back into a fine line, both of you turning your attention back to Seokmin whose ears are turning bright red, shoulders tensing up.

“Oh no—I really don’t want another scolding!” he whines.

“Well buckle up, because he’s asking for you back at 77 right now,” Joshua shrugs as Seokmin huffs, stomping off back into the corridor and presumably back toward the Advisory Quart. “Sorry,” he says, turning to you, “I keep sending your assistant away when you need him.”

“It’s fine,” you say gruffly. “I, uh, I can still do this all by my stuff so it’s not really a big deal.”

Joshua narrows his eyes. “Are you sure? I don’t have fencing for another …” He glances down at his star studded wrist watch for a second, “… thirty minutes so I can help out.”

To say you’re mortified by the offer is an understatement. A prince helping out you? He must be fucking with you because—

“Stop giving me weird looks. I know how to help out around here, you know?”

“Duly noted, but I’m not sure how it would look on my end if the prince was helping me out with—” you gesture to the field around you, “—yard work.”

Joshua laughs, and once again you’re left in perplexity. “Weren’t you the one who reminded me that this is the 21st century? I don’t just sit around and do nothing, you know that right?”

“But still,” you mumble.

“Okay fine. If you’re so obsessed with this royal hierarchy thing, then I, as Prince Joshua, am officially requesting you to let me help. Surely you won’t turn that down.”

This man is so weird.

“Fine,” you relent, holding up the measuring tape. “You see that little circle in the middle where the pathways sort of curve around? I need to measure the circumference of it.”

“That’s it?” Joshua asks casually, grabbing one end of the measuring tape as you make your way to the plot. “Oh, I mean I guess it’s kinda big,” he adds, glancing down at the measuring tape. This one only goes up to 15 feet.”

“You’re right,” you mutter to yourself. “Okay here, let’s just use this,” you say, pulling out a roll of thin string and handing one end to Joshua. “If you stand here I’ll just circle it around and measure the length of the string,” you explain, unraveling the roll and walking around the outer edge of the circle, trailing the string behind you.

Joshua just stands in the spot that you placed him, holding the string and frowning. “I feel like I’m not helping much.”

“Trust me,” you reply under your breath. “You’re helping me just enough.” You don’t mean it to come out bitter, but it does anyways.

“What happened to all the royal hierarchy stuff that you were on about?”

Your eyes harden on him as you’ve made it halfway around the length of the circle, pausing to make sure he notices your subtle glare. “If you didn’t know, this is kind of my job on the line, and while you’ve made it clear that what I say doesn’t affect you, I’m not sure the same could be said for what other people see. So I’m sorry if I don’t want people looking at us and getting the wrong idea.”

“What do you mean the wrong idea?”

Huh. And here you thought that with all those royal tutors, the prince would be smart. Too bad for Joshua, but right now, he’s coming off as just about the densest guy alive.

You’ve been working at the castle for five weeks now. Since your last meeting with Joshua (he insists you get rid of the ‘Prince’ and ‘sir’ so diligently now that even in your head, you’ve removed him of those honorifics), you’ve only seen him twice.

The first was three days after he helped you measure the length of your soon to be pond. You were on the phone with a construction contractor in 77 when Joshua popped in to say ‘hi’ to Seokmin (how and why the two are friends, you don’t know, and you don’t care enough to ask). Noticing you were here past the regular working hour of six, he waited for a few moments to let you finish up your call before walking up to your desk.

“You know you don’t get paid overtime, right Sunshine?” he asks, confused on why exactly you were still here.

“Well work needs to get done,” you sigh heavily, taking a few seconds to clean up your desk and throw away a few old designs you sketched earlier.

“Hey, those looked cool, why’d you trash them?”

“They didn’t work,” you tell him, rummaging through more papers to find the few that you actually wanted to keep.

“Told you,” Seokmin comes up from behind Joshua, patting his shoulder. “She’s a tough judge—even on herself.”

“I get what you mean now,” Joshua murmurs, nodding along with his friend.

Your eyes snap up. “Why are you talking about me as if I’m not here—wait, why do you guys talk about me when I’m not here anyways?”

“You’re like the only one that’s nice to me in 77! Well, sort of,” Seokmin reasons with you.

“I mean you do kind of suck as an intern—”

“Hey! I just happened to get distracted a lot. I’m an honest worker, trust!”

You huff, finally finding the paper that you were looking for. It’s a design for a couple plaques that you want posted above the entrances, and you tuck it into a folder.

“Is that in Latin?” Joshua piques when he catches a glimpse of the wording.

“Uh, yeah—you know Latin?”

“He’s a prince. Of course he does,” Seokmin tells you, turning around to nudge his friend on the side. “This spoiled brat has been learning Latin since he was six!”

Joshua scoffs. “Who’re you calling a spoiled brat? You were in those classes with me too!”

You consider wondering about who exactly Seokmin is and why he was in those classes with a prince, why he’s so close with Joshua, and a plethora of questions run through your mind, before you remind yourself that you really don’t care.

“Yeah but—” Seokmin tries to reason with his friend before you stand up and both of their attention are directed at you.

“You’re right Pri—Joshua. I don’t get paid overtime, so I’m gonna get going now.” You bow at him and then Seokmin, grabbing your folder and bag before pushing in your chair and heading to the exit. Awkwardly, the two boys say bye to you before glancing at each other.

“That was weird,” Seokmin says, and Joshua shrugs.

“I guess.”

“Did you actually understand what she wrote or were you just bluffing? I don’t remember shit from those Latin lessons.”

Joshua rolls his eyes and nods. “Yeah, but I only got the second word. Said ‘invictus,’ I think.”

“Huh, cool. Got no clue what that means.”

“It means undefeatable, dipshit,” Joshua groans. “Seriously, how’d you pass that class!”

“Hey, I was a great student—I just have, uh, bad memory,” Seokmin pouts.

“Yeah I can tell … seriously, how did you manage to fuck up the yarrows even after she,” Joshua gestures behind him as if to point at where you exited just a few moments earlier, “sent you all those instructions and all!”

“God, don’t remind me. I actually feel really bad, ‘cause Mr. Park yelled at her too for giving me ‘the wrong instructions,’ but I really just forgot what she told me.” Cringing at the mental image of both you and Seokmin being scolded by Mr. Park, Joshua shakes his head—that is not a pretty scene.

Joshua sighs, the two of them making their way out of the empty 77 and walking down the corridor towards the Royal Residence Quart. “Why’re you even interning for him? You don’t need a job, especially not as one being an assistant.”

“My dad’s pissed at me, remember?” Seokmin tells his friend gruffly, and Joshua purses his lips at the mention of the older man.

“Right.”

“Wanted to punish me for the summer or whatever, but I guess it’s not too bad. The staff are actually pretty funny, and your Sunshine girl is really bossy so she gives me a lot of work to do.”

“I can’t tell if you’re complaining or celebrating.”

“Both, I think,” Seokmin replies, the two of them laughing together. “Why do you talk to her so much? She’s even snappier to you than to me, and trust me, I can be pretty damn annoying.”

“Like I don’t know that,” Joshua mutters teasingly, earning him a punch on the arm. “But anyways, she seems interesting. Like cool, you know what I mean.”

“I guess,” Seokmin says absentmindedly. “Wonder what my dad would say about that.”

“Okay well your dad isn’t the King so I don’t really think it matters what your dad says about it.”

Seokmin raises a brow. “You sure? My dad almost had me transferred out of 77 because he heard I had to work with her.”

“Well that’s his own problem I guess. Just don’t let him bring it up with my dad because I’m not keen on having any more drama in this castle,” Joshua mumbles, stopping in front of the big door that leads to the residence.

Seokmin nods at one of the guards standing by the door, and she presses a code to a small box on the wall and the doors open. “You coming? Dinner’s about to be served,” he calls to Joshua when he walks forward but realizes his friend isn’t by his side.

Smiling, Joshua shakes his head and waves Seokmin off. “I’m gonna take a breather for a bit. Tell them to start dinner without me.”

Seokmin laughs. “You know they won’t do that.”

“I know, I know, but it’s the gesture that counts anyways. I’ll be back in twenty, trust.”

The second time you saw Joshua was yesterday evening just as you were just leaving 77 to head home, your arms full of papers to look through in the night. After getting the pathways cleaned up, you needed to work on adding more structures to the courtyard, but were at a loss of what to make and what to make it with.

With your stack of papers that were littered with different possible materials and architectural structures that you promised yourself to get through by the end of the night, even if it meant pulling a whole damn all nighter.

“Is Sunshine leaving at a normal time for once?” Joshua asks with a faux gasp as he comes across you in the hallway.

With the paper’s digging into your arms, you can only manage to grunt out a short, “Thankfully, I am,” before increasing your pace so you can get all this stuff to your car as quickly as possible.

“Hey, wait!” Joshua calls out from behind you, and you almost whine because your arms are killing you and you aren’t sure how much more of this you can handle. “Do you need help? I can—”

He’s cut off by the sound of your phone slipping from your pocket and crashing to the ground. “Shit,” you whimper under your breath as you try to balance all the papers on one hand while crouching down to pick up your phone with the other. You’re wobbling under all the weight, and you have half a mind to give up right here and now but then a larger hand is pushing itself into your vision.

“Here,” he says, quickly turning over the device to check for any cracks on the scene. In that fraction of a moment, your phone turns on and flashes your very bright and very embarrassing lock screen. Your face burns as you snatch the phone from his hands and tuck it back into your pocket. “Is that Percy Jackson?”

Adjusting the papers in your hand, you shuffle your feet and start walking toward the exit. Joshua follows, as expected. “Uh, yeah—I know it’s embarrassing but—”

“Uh, you did not just say that,” Joshua scoffs, and when you catch the oddly offended look on his face, your annoyance dissipates for a moment. “Percy Jackson is not embarrassing. Those books were like the defining character of my pre-teens.”

You chew on your lip, wondering how you should respond to this. “That’s cool. I used to like the stories too …”

“Seems like you still do, considering it’s like, your lock screen and all.”

“Look, I just have it ‘cause it looks cool,” you tell him bashfully, speeding up the pace of your steps in hopes that it’ll bring this conversation to end faster.

“Uh yeah, sure. Totally believe you.”

“I’m serious,” you huff. “I liked the books ages ago, but now I’m only interested in Greek mythology. It just so happens that the best art of Greek gods comes from Percy Jackson fan artists.”

“Sure. sure,” Joshua says blankly with a smirk teasing at his lips. “Again, totally believe you.” You don’t know why his subtle teasing has you gripping onto your papers so tightly, why it has you gritting your teeth together. And then you remember who this is and it all makes sense.

Joshua is playful and lighthearted, but he is still the Prince, after all.

Your sixth week at the castle, and you’re nearing the halfway mark for your project’s timeline. You’ve spent the past week working on getting some stone benches built into the courtyard, and just this morning you sent in an order to get some plaques engraved.

Mr. Park stopped by when you were checking out your progress earlier, glancing at the pathways and the nearly completed seating. He didn’t say anything, simply nodding and walking along, and you figure that that’s the best you’ll get from him.

Your day goes by fine, for the most part after that. When you take your lunch break at the cafeteria, Seokmin tags along and you’re pleased that for once, you won’t have to eat alone. He has to leave soon after though—apparently Jihoon called for his help, and so you’re left to take care of this afternoon’s work by yourself.

Not that you mind—people let you be in the castle, and it’s actually quite nice for getting work done. When you return to 77, it’s only occupied by Mr. Park who, as always, pays no mind to you. Taking a look at your schedule, you aren’t sure if you feel like smiling or frowning when you see your next activity lined up.

Visiting the greenhouse.

There’s an odd feeling that blooms in your stomach as you walk there. You haven’t been to this side of this castle yet, partly because you don’t need to, but mostly because you don’t want to.

It’s when you leave the walls and take your way out to the Northeastern gardens of the palace that the pathways start ringing bells in your head. The familiar green bushes that you remember your mother tending to. The fields of daffodils, and the little built in canals that lead toward the row of greenhouses—it’s all flooding back to you, and you can’t figure out if you like it or not.

When you first came to the castle, you figured that you could avoid confronting the remnants of your past, but you should’ve known that everything eventually goes full circle.

Which is how you find yourself standing in front of the greenhouse where everything—your life, your mother’s life, all of it—ended on that day over ten long years ago.

Taking a deep breath, you go up to the door of the largest greenhouse ,tentatively tapping on the blurry glass before pushing it open. Peeking inside, you’re met with the familiar sight of flora arranged in neat lines of soil beds.

As you step in, the air is moist and stuffy—when you inhale, you’re reminded of those early Saturday mornings where you sat by your mother’s desk and watched her tend to the plants. The humidity was usually uncomfortable, but you learned to love it. Right now, you learn how much you missed it.

“Can I help you?” a gruff voice interrupts your thoughts, and you whip your head around to find an elderly woman glaring up at you.

“Hi, I called earlier and you said I could take some of the hyacinths. I just wanted to ask which greenhouse they’d be in because—”

“31C,” she says bluntly, immediately turning back around to tend to whatever she was doing earlier.

You watch her for a few seconds blankly, before snapping out of your haze, “O-okay, thank you.” Pursing your lips, you let your head hang low as you start walking toward the door.

“That damned slut,” the woman mutters quietly. You don’t think you want to hear it, but you continue to listen anyway. “Thinks she can just send her daughter over and—”

“And?”

You don’t think you’ve ever been more happy to hear Joshua’s voice.

Looking up, he’s just entered through the entrance you were about to exit through, and while you would usually mull over the possible reasons he would be here, you’re far more focused on watching the bewildered look on this woman’s face

“Nothing sir!” she replies quickly, back straightened as she presses her hands behind her back. 

“Good to hear,” he says simply. You watch from the side as Joshua gives her a look that you can’t really gauge before turning to you with a brighter look on his face. “Seokmin told me I would find you here?”

“I—yeah, he was right.”

“Well I can see that Sunshine,” Joshua chuckles and waves your hand in a gesture to follow him. You don’t have any other choice than to follow him out the greenhouse and into the much freer, lighter air. “What’re you doing here anyways?” he asks when you start finding your way to 31C.

“I need to look at some flowers.” Joshua asks you quite a bit about the courtyard, and although you don’t really get it, you’ve learned that it’s easier to just reply to his questions honestly than try to avoid them.

“For the courtyard?” he piques as you finally find the smaller greenhouse, opening the door to thankfully find it empty of anyone else.

Your gaze lands on a bed of hyacinths as you reply, “What else?”

“Okay, you need to stop answering all of my questions like I’m stupid.”

Huffing, you pull up a pot from under the bed and fill it up with soil before digging your hands into the dirt around one of the hyacinth plants. Your fingers search under the earth before feeling against the roots and carefully pulling out the plant.

“Maybe stop asking stupid questions then,” you suggest.

“Seeing as you think I’m dumb … do you want to tutor me?”

“What?” you deadpan, looking up at him with your hands still in the dirt. “Why?”

“I mean like, you’re smart and all, plus we get along—”

You click your tongue, finally pulling the plant out of the soil and pressing it into the pot. “Not so sure about that second part.”

“Okay well we have some shared interests and stuff—”

“Like?” you counter, walking over to a sink so you can wash the excess soil off.

“Percy Jackson. Greek mythology?”

Your ears perk up at that. “You like Greek mythology?”

“Yes! See! That’s like, already two common interests, Sunshine.”

“More like only two. And one of them is a book series I haven’t read in about nine years so I’m not even sure it counts,” you rebut.

“Oh no, it definitely counts,” Joshua counters, watching you pick up the flower pot and head towards the greenhouse exit. “Wait, we’re diverting from the point here.”

“What is the point again?”

“You need to tutor me!” he whines as he follows behind you, up the pathway back to the castle.

“I need to? Uh, sorry, but I don’t think tutoring the Prince is under my job description.”

“This is a different job though!”

You knit your eyebrows together. “Am I getting paid?”

“You might,” Joshua smirks. “I’ll pay you by the hour.”

Pondering, you chew on the inside of your cheek, before you finally respond, “How much are we talking?”

Joshua grins, shaking his head. “Should’ve known money was the way to your heart Sunshine.”

“Money is not the way to my heart. It’s just the way to get me to tutor you. Don’t mix those two up.”

“Don’t worry Sunshine, I wish you all the best in finding your sugar daddy husband eventually.”

Glaring, you chastise him. “Joshua!”

“Why did you ask me to do this again?” you ask, stepping into the room Joshua has just led you to. It’s near the Royal Residence Quart of the castle, and you’re a bit on edge. Joshua assured you earlier that no one would question why you of all people would be here with him, but you’ve also noticed that the boy can be a bit distant from reality.

“Because,” Joshua starts, watching you look around the room (it is a very nice room; bookshelves line the walls and there’s a grand desk in the middle, a rolling chalkboard on one end and a vintage map on another rolling board scattered off to another end). “I don’t like the royal tutor they have, and you’re smart,” he says casually.

“You can’t ask for another one?” you murmur, raising a brow as he moves to the desk and hands you a folder.

“I could, but my mother would get upset if I keep running through them. I’ve changed my tutors far too many times by now.”

“Ah,” you say dryly. “The extreme difficulties of the royalty. How unfortunate.”

“Sunshine,” Joshua grins, ignoring your snarky comment. “Can you at least pretend you want to be here?”

“Um, I’ll think about it,” you reply honestly, pursing your lips together as you glance at his chalkboard which has a list of things he needs to go over. “What is it that you need help on?”

“Well I’m good at math and stuff but Literature and Chemistry are quite literally killing me,” Joshua says with a sigh, sitting down at his desk.

“Literature?” you ask with narrowed eyes. “You’re the Prince—isn’t Literature supposed to be like, I don’t know, your forte?”

“Who told you that?” Joshua asks with a pout, pulling up a packet of papers and letting it down on his desk with a thud.

“I don’t know, I guess I just assumed they’d be having you read Machiavelli or something like that from the age of two.”

Joshua scoffs, holding up the book so you can read out the title. Oh, it’s The Waste Land. “Okay I get that this is a kingdom and all but seriously, who even uses Machiavellianism anymore? That’s from like six hundred years ago.”

“Less than that,” you correct, but shrug anyways and sit down at the chair on the other side of his desk. “But whatever, you need help with The Waste Land?”

“I mean, yeah I’ve read it a bunch but I just never get it and my mom is obsessed with it for some reason and I really don’t want her to make me sit through another read of it so I really need to write up something good on it that will satisfy my Literature instructor and my mom so I can get it out of the way.”

“A paper?”

“Yeah, you know: analyzing themes and stuff.”

“Okay I know what a paper is,” you snap and Joshua rolls his eyes.

“Look now you’re just picking fights over everything I say. Just relax and—”

“I am relaxed,” you huff, but the tension in your shoulders says otherwise. To be honest, you’re still not sure why Joshua decided to choose you of all people, as if you haven’t made it clear multiple times that you weren’t his biggest fan.

You can respect the effort, you guess, but the way he seems so unbothered by your snarkiness is getting a little bit irritating.

“Whatever you say Sunshine,” Joshua says with a shrug, turning the packet and handing it to you. The poem is littered with annotations, underlines, and highlighter marks all over, and you squint for a moment trying to remind yourself of what you remember from the last time you looked at the work. “You read it before? The Waste Land?”

“Uh, yeah, ages ago though. Like back in high school,” murmur, flipping through the pages to jog your memory.

“Why were you reading The Waste Land in high school? Seems like too much, no?”

“Well not everyone was granted the freedom to do as they please with whoever they please,” you tell him, eyes flickering between Joshua’s curious face and the packet in front of you.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Joshua asks, and his voice is slightly whiny.

“It means that people didn’t want to talk to me so I had to spend my time reading. Even if it was ‘too much,’ or whatever you said.”

“Oh,” Joshua’s voice is quiet. See, you remind yourself, clouded from reality is what Joshua is. “Well I—”

“Forget it. I think I’m going to have to go home and reread The Waste Land if you want me to be of any help. What else do you have to work on, or do you just want to do Chemistry?”

“Uh, sure we can move onto Chemistry,” Joshua replies hastily, tucking the paper back into his folder haphazardly before shoving it into a drawer and pulling out a much thicker notebook. “I kinda need help with a lot of it. Like—I’m sorry I just don’t get it—what the hell is an electrophile and a nucleophiles and why the hell I need to know them for alkanes and—”

“Slow down,” you say, sticking your hand out. You grab the notebook from his desk and skip over the contents before looking back up. “If you want me to do this for you, we’re going to have to start from the basics, okay?”

Joshua gives you a look which tells you he doesn’t think he needs to do that, but you open the notebook to a new page, pulling out a pen. Begrudgingly, he nods and leans his head in to see what you’re writing.

He’s oddly compliant when you ask him to be, despite his jumpy and bubbly personality, and for a fraction of a second, you wonder about his potential. Quickly, you push that thought out of your mind.

It’s late afternoon when you reach the courtyard, smiling at the progress. You told the workers to get started on digging up the pond this morning, and you’re pleased to see that there’s already a large dugout in the century.

“Good work!” you chirp to Jungho, the contractor you talked to over the phone. He seemed nice enough over the phone, but you soon realized within the first time that you two met in person that he was just as standoff-ish as the rest. “But we’re going to need to get the insides patted down and compressed so when we put the water in, the soil won’t just soak it up,” you try to tell him casually.

Jungho points his thumb behind him at some of his men. “Yeah we have a guy for that,” he says gruffly, not even meeting your gaze.

“Thanks … maybe have it finished within a week?”

“Okay. Anything else?” Jungho looks around awkwardly, before adding. “Want us to get the water in there too? Then we can get outta … outta your hair and stuff and don’t have to keep coming back.”

“Uh, no—there’s some lining I want to do with the pond, and I’ve got to do that before there’s water in it. But it’s something I want to do myself, so you can just take care of compressing the soil and I’ll take it from there.”

Jungho gives you a weird look but you brush it off. “Alright. We’ll have it finished by tomorrow,” he finalizes, and with that he turns on his heels and walks back to his workers who you can tell were watching him from the corner of their vision.

“Why are those guys looking at you like that?”

You whip your head around, seeing Joshua standing just a few meters away from you on the pathway coming in from the East entrance. He glances around and finds a marble bench that’s just been made, sitting on the edge casually.

“Joshua, you’ve seen people look at me like that before and I think you know exactly why,” you mutter, walking over to where he sits. Joshua doesn’t respond and instead averts his gaze to the ground.

There’s a stray kitten bouncing around at his feet, and he’s quick to drop to his knees on the pathway and engulf her in his large hands. It would be an endearing sight, you think. Sorta, you guess.

“Whatever. You’re still coming in on Sunday right? My instructor prepared this stupid Chemistry exam for me on Tuesdays and I know you can’t help out on Mondays so I kind of really need you to help me on Sunday so I can prep. So please, please, please—”

“You know I’m gonna come in, so you don’t have to pester me so much about it,” you say with a sigh, putting your folder down and crouching on the ground so you can pet the kitten. She’s cute, with wide slanted eyes and soft brown fur, the wet kitten licks feeling warm against your palm.

“But you put up with it, don’t you?” You roll your eyes but Joshua still grins when you don’t disagree.

“I don’t understand you,” you mutter, truthfully speaking your mind as the kitten rolls around in Joshua’s lap. You smile without thinking, and Joshua carefully watches your usually taut face unravel in front of him.

“Are you kidding me? I’m literally an open book. You know Sunshine, you can find my whole life on Wikipedia.”

You giggle. You fucking giggle at that, and it’s hard to tell who is more surprised between the two of you. “You know that’s not what I meant,” you murmur, struggling to hold back another laugh, the kitten jumping out of his lap to play around on the ground under the gentle hands of you and Joshua.

“Not that I would know. You think I’m stupid anyways.”

“What? No I don’t.”

“Oh my god, please don’t even try to counter that. When I told you I didn’t know why helium was named helium, you looked at me like I was the dumbest person to ever live.”

“Okay that’s only because you say you like Greek mythology! How could you not put that together—it’s so obvious! Helium and Helios sound totally alike, and everyone knows helium is like, one of the most abundant elements in the sun.”

“Maybe you know that. You’re also insanely smart,” Joshua counters.

“Whatever you say. But for the record, I don’t think you’re stupid. Maybe a little dense, but that’s it.”

Joshua pouts. “Aren’t those basically the same thing?” You know he’s only being playful, but something about the way he says it makes you think twice. He’s being sweet. So sweet, it feels almost bitter.

“No. You have a smart head, Joshua. Honest. I think you just gotta learn how to use it,” you tell him, more softly this time.

“Thanks Sunshine,” he replies gruffly and you frown, realizing that your attempts to make him feel better haven’t quite worked.

“I’m serious. What? You don’t think I’m serious?” Joshua shakes his head, and you roll your eyes when you pick up the kitten yourself and pull her into your lap.

“You’re mean. So no, I don’t think you’re being serious.”

You gasp, using the hand that isn’t playing with the kitten to place it over your chest dramatically. “I am not mean. I’m just honest. I’m being honest right now.”

“Whatever,” Joshua quips, turning his nose and looking away pettily.

“Okay, are you actually upset?” you groan, cradling the kitten up to your chest. You aren’t sure if you’re more annoyed because you can’t tell if Joshua is upset, or because you might be the reason he’s upset.

“Who knows. Not that you would care.”

“I obviously care, because I’m asking,” you deadpan, letting the kitten roll around in your arms, letting out a squeak of surprise when one of its claws gets caught in the belt of your robe, making a tear in the silk.

Joshua gives you a funny look when he says, “You can be quite pestering when you want to.”

“Congratulations! You now know how I feel.”

“See what I mean! You’re mean. I want the kitten back.”

You clutch the little close to your chest and nuzzle your face into her neck. “No can do. I’m afraid she’s mine until you admit you know I don’t think you’re stupid.”

“Oh my god, is this how it feels when I annoy you?” Joshua grumbles, throwing his head back. “Remind me to never pester you again. Ever.”

“Self awareness is great and all, but like I said, you’re not getting her until you admit it.”

“Fine. I don’t think you think I’m stupid. Happy?”

You hum and shake your head. “Mm, no. Gotta sound more convincing.”

Joshua knits his eyebrows together. “If you’re so insistent on this, then I guess it must be true. I don’t think you think I’m stupid,” he repeats, but his tone is gentler this time.

“Good work.”

Joshua stands tall on a hill. His broad shoulders are sharp with his straightened back and taught jaw. The sky is orange and you watch him from below, the clouds moving slowly above his head in the background.

He’s looking out at something, but you can’t quite tell what. It’s off in the distance, but his eyes are dilated and unwavering for a few long moments.

Wind whistles in your ear, and then the sky grows brighter and brighter until it’s no longer orange and suddenly turning yellow and then white. So white that it hinders your vision and you’re wincing through the light until you realize Joshua is not on the hill anymore.

You look around frantically to no avail—you can’t see anything but white with black spots in your vision and you feel like you’re going blind. And you want to scream but when you open your mouth no sound comes and the blowing of wind grows louder and louder until it sounds like you’re at the beach.

Looking around, you see your legs knee deep in ocean water and you’re no longer hearing the rampage of wind and instead the crashing of waves against rocks. There isn’t a hill anymore, there’s a cliff, but still no sight of Joshua.

It’s still so bright, so bright and you close your eyes tightly again until you feel a shade fall over your figure. A gasp escapes your lips when you see what’s above you.

Wide wings, ornate with white and golden feathers, perched over Joshua’s back as he hovers above you. He’s not looking anywhere else now, only you.

His face glows and then he smiles and you close your eyes one last time but when you open them again, all you see is darkness.

You’ve never been great at remembering dreams. More often than not, you wake up with no remnants of the life you lived in your head the night before, and on the rare occasions that you do happen to recall something, it’s only just random snippets that also hardly make sense.

Last night was no different, although you do wake up with an uneasy feeling, not because of what you dreamed about—you don’t remember that—but because you know you dreamed about Joshua. It’s just the wake up call you need to tell yourself that maybe, just maybe, you’re spending more time with him than you should.

It’s a Saturday morning as you trudge out of bed and to the kitchen, trying to settle the weird feelings that course through your veins when you see your mother brewing a pot of tea. “How’d you sleep?” she asks, not looking up from the boiling water.

Shrugging as you grab a home-grown orange, you respond, “Well enough.”

“Can’t believe they have you going to the palace on the weekends too … I never had to work on Saturdays or Sundays.”

You wonder how she brings up her time at the castle so casually—you don’t know if you’ll ever understand her. “I really don’t have to—I can work on my own schedule basically whenever, as long as I get the courtyard finished by the end of three months.”

“And how’s that going?”

“Behind schedule. Obviously. That’s why I’m heading in again.”

Your mother smiles and walks over, ruffling your hair. “I’m glad you’re working hard on this—I can tell you’re enjoying it, as much as you didn’t want to go there.”

“It’s nice, I guess. I get to be creative, and get paid. Really, getting the money is all I care about,” you tell her casually, taking the peel off the orange and popping a piece into your mouth.

“You don’t talk about it much, but I’m assuming people don’t give you that hard of a time? You always come home fine.”

They do, it just doesn’t happen to be anything you’re not used to. Your mind flashes to Joshua and Seokmin for a moment, and you’re once again reminded of the unnerving fact that you did dream about the former, and you can’t even remember what it was about. “Things are fine.”

You’re three tutoring sessions in with Joshua, and it’s finally the day that you pull out your own copy of The Waste Land. “Oh thank god,” he says with a breath of relief when he sees it. “This paper has been bugging me forever—if we didn’t get started on it soon I might’ve combust.”

“I appreciate the vivid imagery,” you say dryly, “but I really did not need to picture that in my head.”

“Sorry,” Joshua says with a shrug as you sit across from him. “So what’re we gonna do today, Sunshine?”

“Hmm, get through the first part hopefully. We can read it back and forth and talk about it together, so you can take notes. It might be easier that way, so you can get all your thoughts and ideas out, and then it’ll be easier for you to write that paper.”

“Sounds boring.”

“I guess I’ll just pack my stuff and—”

“Okay! Okay! I was just joking. Let’s start, please,” he complies easily, and you smirk as you sit back down.

“Good to hear. Read this part.”

You’re around an hour and a half into the lesson, still working through the first part as Joshua frowns when you finish another stanza.

“Do we have to keep going?” he whines.

“Yes we do. Let’s work with this part now. Read it out for me,” you instruct, pointing out a stanza on your own paper.

“Why—” You give him a look. “—okay fine.”

‘You gave me hyacinths first a year ago;‘They called me the hyacinth girl.’—Yet when we came back, late, from the Hyacinth garden,Your arms full, and your hair wet, I could notSpeak, and my eyes failed, I was neitherLiving nor dead, and I knew nothing,Looking into the heart of light, the silence.Oed’ und leer das Meer.

When he’s done, Joshua looks up at you blankly. “If I’m being honest, I have zero clue what this means.”

You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. “You’ve said that every time you read a new section, but I know that’s not true, because you literally always come up with something.”

Joshua scrunches up his face and slaps his hands to his cheeks in frustration. “But now I’m being serious! This is making no sense to me—I hate Literature, okay? My brain is dead right now and I don’t think I can do any more Sunshine.”

“We’ve been doing this for less than two hours,” you say bluntly. “Look—you said you like Greek mythology right? Try and draw some connections. Maybe that’ll make this more enjoyable.”

“I hardly think T.S. Elliot could produce anything I enjoy,” Joshua huffs as he tilts the page so he can read it better, “But fine. I still don’t get what about this has anything to do with mytho—oh!”

“Finally! You get it?”

“Hyacinthus!” You nod eagerly, gesturing your hands to tell him to go on. “Uh, it was that story with Apollo. Shit, what was the story again?” He looks up and taps at his chin, but when you open your mouth to help him out, Joshua sticks a hand in front of your face and shakes his head. “No wait, I remember. The one where they were in love but Apollo accidentally killed him when they were playing a game!”

“You’re right. The blood of Hyacinthus was eventually turned into flowers by Apollo to honor his death or something like that. In the context of this poem … the giver of the hyacinth flower is almost like a sign of—”

Joshua snaps his fingers in the air and grins. “Forgiveness!”

“Well, not exactly giving forgiveness, but asking for it.”

“Kind of like … saying you’re sorry?” Joshua smiles brighter when you nod. “Holy shit, maybe I do enjoy T.S. Elliot.”

You roll your eyes and point at his notebook and pen. “Good, now write that down. You are going to have to write about this, remember?”

Joshua pouts, but picks up the pen nevertheless. “Whatever you say Sunshine.”

“Joshua told me to tell you that he thinks T.S. Elliot sucks,” Seokmin says, coming up to you in the cafeteria as you polish off your own tray. It’s a large and grand area—an old ballroom that turned into a commonplace for the workers.

Large mirrors plate the walls, and across from you, you can watch Seokmin’s reflection as he sits down next to you. Rolling your eyes, you turn to look at him, “He’s only saying that because I told him to write the paper himself.”

Seokmin furrows his eyebrows as he places a white box, a little larger than the size of your hand, on the table. Glancing around, you catch people in the mirror watching you with wavering gazes before turning away when they find you looking at them.

Huff lightly, you turn your attention back to Seokmin. “What’s this?”

“Joshua told me to give it to you.”

That’s new. Tentatively, you lift the lid a little to peek inside, only finding a haphazard mess of stuffing paper with something purple concealed underneath. “Would it be a smart decision to open it right now?”

“Oh my gosh, it’s not an explosive or anything.”

“You don’t know that!”

Seokmin rolls his eyes himself this time. “Yes I do. I packed it.”

“Ugh, even worse. I’m not opening it if you’re around. That’s embarrassing.”

“Is not! I think that you should—” Seokmin is cut off by the sound of his own phone ringing, cursing under his breath when he sees the caller ID. For a moment, you consider peering over and taking a look, but Seokmin stands up too quickly. “I gotta go for a second. I’ll catch you before you leave!” he calls out when he’s already pushing his chair in and rushing off into the distance.

You laugh at his hurry, wondering what could possibly ensue such nervousness from the boy, but you quickly remind yourself that this is Seokmin and he gets the jitters when he even has to think about being around Mr. Park for more than twenty minutes.

Soon, you start to clean up your area yourself, putting your trays away and throwing away your trash in the weirdly fancy bins they have scattered around the hall. As your lunch break nears its end, you grab the oddly light box, your phone, and make your way back to 77.

The room is empty, safe for Jihoon who’s got his head buried in his laptop, and you think it’s a good time to check what’s inside. If it is an explosive, you’ll just have to apologize to Jihoon in the afterlife.

Opening the lid, those same, crumpled papers lay on top, but this time you notice a little white card in the middle. Pursing your lips, your eyes flicker to your side to see if Jihoon’s watching (he never is, but it doesn’t hurt to check), and when your privacy is confirmed, you flip the paper over.

There’s a message written in purple pen, adorning a handwriting that you can distinctly recognize as Joshua’s.

Thank you for all the help. I really owe you one.

You aren’t quite sure what he’s talking about, and you make a mental note to ask him about it when you see him later. Right now, you rummage through the papers, hands feeling the space beneath them before they land on a smooth layer of fabric.

Confused, you pull it out, only to see it’s a ribbon, much like the one tied around your own waist. Same color, same material, same emblem, the only difference being …

You glance down at your own robes where the ribbon has a small tear at one end from where the kitten had pawed at you. You have to blink a few times to realize what Joshua’s intentions were, and when you do, you can’t help the warm smile that begrudgingly makes its way onto your face.

Quickly, you tug the ends of the ribbon around your waist and let it unravel, taking the new ribbon and tying it just as your mother taught you. It’s the same thing as the one before, yes, but this is different. This is a gift.

Donning Joshua’s (your?) ribbon, you start to clean up your desk space and tuck your old ribbon back into your bag. You forgot to tell Seokmin you’re tutoring Joshua this afternoon, so as you pack up you text him a sincere ‘thank you’ message, and let him know that you might not be able to see him before you go. You don’t get a response, which is slightly odd since Seokmin seems to always be on top of things, but you shrug it off and remind yourself that he’s busy.

Today, you make your way down the smaller halls with a little skip to your step. Joshua showed you this pathway earlier so it’d be easier to get to his study room without being seen; it’s a nice little series of corridors that are a little dimmer and narrower, but still hold the lavish feel you always get walking through the palace.

You can hear the voices of a few people, but it seems quiet, hushed, and somehow a little heated—in other words, caught up in their own world. Being in the castle for almost two months now, you’ve learned to realize what kind of situations need your caution and which ones don’t. This is the latter.

You smile to yourself, smoothing your palms over the new, not-torn silk ribbon around your waist, as you near the second entrance to his study, about to enter another hallway to the final stretch and—shit.

When you turn a corner, your heart stops.

You turn back and run down the corridor. You don’t know if Seokmin saw you, and quite frankly, you don’t care.

It didn’t take you more than a second to put two and two together and suddenly you’re pushed back into your nine year old body—you don’t really know what’s happening or why it’s happening, all you know is that it hurts.

You’re going to have to apologize to Joshua for flaking on him. Surely he’ll understand that you were just a little bit upset by the sight you had to see.

After all, you did just witness Seokmin, quite literally your only real friend in this damn castle, speaking to Advisor Lee, the man who tore your mother’s life down. And now is when everything starts to click, because you realize that Seokmin is Advisor Lee’s son.

Of course he was close with Joshua—he probably grew up on these very castle grounds. Of course they attended the same classes—his father was the King’s advisor and cousin.

It makes sense now, and in your bleary haze as you make your way back to 77, you’re not sure what to do. You rush past a few other staff members murmuring under their breath when they see you, and you usually wouldn’t be bothered by the sight but now you remember that this is the first time you’ve cried since you got here, and it’s all because of that man who started this all in the first place.

As you lock yourself in one of the staff bathrooms, you catch your disheveled appearance and furiously wipe at your cheeks. Fuck. You shouldn’t be crying. You can’t be crying over this, because god knows you did not spend years thickening your skin for it to be cut open like this.

You should’ve known. Should’ve fucking known.

You try to stop your tears, telling yourself that they’re all the same. That you shouldn’t have expected anything more from these people, that you should’ve picked up on how Seokmin was definitely someone important, that you should’ve never fallen for his and Joshua’s sweet games.

“Shit,” you gasp out as a sob rips from your throat, and you clutch the side of the sink as uneasiness bubbles up in your stomach and spreads through your limbs until you’re trembling.

Maybe you let him get so close because you thought he saw you for something else. Maybe you believed that he saw you as more than a pity project. More than someone who was defined by their past.

Joshua and Seokmin—they knew. They knew everything this whole damn time.

And now you’re angry—you’re so fucking angry. Tugging at your hair, ripping up your clothes, and thrashing your limbs around kind of angry. The kind of anger that poisons your bones and makes your body ache until you can’t take it anymore. The kind of anger that wraps its hand around your throat and squeezes the air out of you until you can do nothing but relent. The kind of anger that has you looking at yourself in the mirror and thinking, what the fuck.

The worst thing is you can’t even be mad at him. You want to be mad at him and you want to be mad at Joshua. You want to have the will to go up to them and slap the smiles off their faces because how dare Seokmin be the own flesh and blood of Advisor Lee, and how dare Joshua know and not have the guts to tell you.

Because after everything, Seokmin and Joshua were your friends and—fuck—they were some damn good friends. Your best friends, maybe, if you ever had the liberty to even know what that means.

And it wasn’t because they were overly nice, or excessively cheery, or because Seokim was always grinning and Joshua was always smirking, but because when they talked to you, they were talking to you, and not some shell of your past.

Finally, now, when you press your face into your hands as your last attempt to calm yourself down, you feel like you can breathe. You’re not sure where your head is at, and something tells you that it’s gonna take a damn long time to figure it out.

You’re a little lost.

You were just trying to get to the South end entrance of the courtyard but you must have taken a wrong turn or something because you’re walking down a corridor you’ve quite literally never seen before. It’s similar to the hallways of the rest of the palace, but it’s slightly taller and a bit more narrow, and the workers walking through wear faces that you aren’t familiar with. You’re a little nervous about where your feet are taking you, and you consider just turning around and retracing your steps when you hear a voice.

Seokmin’s voice is loud when he calls your name, and you press your lips together tightly when it rings in your ears. “What are you doing here? You usually don’t come down to the South e—” he starts to say when walks up to you from a corridor to your left.

“Nothing,” you reply briskly, turning on your heel so your back is pretty much facing him. “I was just leaving actually.”

“What—hey! Slow down! Where’re you going?”

“77,” you mutter under your breath as you speed up your pace.

“Slow down!”

You don’t relent. “Seokmin, don’t you have stuff to do right now instead of following me around?” You can’t see the look on his face, but you can only imagine it’s one of defeat.

“I—” his voice is quieter this time, “Okay.”

The footsteps that were one following you die out, and as you browse the corners of your vision, you conclude that he’s finally left you alone. You should feel relieved—happy that he’s not bothering you now—but sometimes uneasy churns inside of you, and you aren’t sure what it is.

The rest of your day goes as it usually does in a palace. You tend to your work and as it hits late afternoon, you start making your way to Joshua’s study. Once again, you’re not sure where your head is at.

“Is everything alright?” Joshua asks you the second you walk in. “Seokmin told me you looked upset and wouldn’t talk to him so I—”

You inhale deeply before, putting your hands up in a stopping motion. “I can’t tutor you anymore.”

Joshua looks at you weirdly. “What, why?”

“Or talk to you,” you add.

“What—”

“Just—just don’t talk to me. Or ask me to tutor you. Or ask for my help, or ask to help me—you know what just like—I dunno, stay away from me.”

“Sunshine, where is this coming from?” Joshua pinches the bridge of his nose, and you don’t think he’s understanding the weight of his words.

“Why do you even talk to me?” you snap. “Like seriously, if you can bother any worker in the castle, why does it have to be me?”

Hurt flashes in Joshua’s face for hardly a second before he frowns deeply. “I—what’s going on?”

“Do you and Seokmin think this is funny? Being nice to me like—” You throw your hands in the air. “—like I’m some kind of joke?”

“What? No, Sunshine, what are you even talking about?”

“I know who Seokmin’s dad is.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” you scoff. “So if Seokmin still wants to know why I don’t feel like talking to him, maybe consider telling him that I’m not interested in being around someone whose father is literally the reason me and my mom’s lives have been so fucked up.”

Joshua winces at the last statement. You’ve been irritated with him, annoyed with him, and all that petty stuff, sure, but this is different.

“Seokmin isn’t like that, okay? He isn’t—you know—like that.”

“And how would you know?” you snap. “Prince Joshua, what do you know about having people be, quote unquote, above you? You have everything in front of you, and when people look at you and Seokmin it’s not ‘cause of some fucked up scandal which pinned your mom as the kingdom’s slut of the century, it’s ‘cause they literally bow down to your presence and—”

Something tells you to stop yourself. Maybe it’s the fact that you know you’re not actually angry at them. Maybe it’s the fact that you’re so fucking tired of being angry all the time that you can’t take it anymore. Maybe it’s the fact that when you finally look him in the eye, Joshua looks sad.

“I’m sorry,” he finally says meekly. “Seokmin should—we should’ve let you know earlier. I promise we didn’t be your friend just ‘cause of that,” he rambles. “I mean obviously we knew about it but we didn’t wanna bring it up because everyone was bringing it up and—I’m sorry. You know Seokmin isn’t like that.”

“And you?” you quip, but you know your retorts hold no weight. “How do I know you aren’t like—like that.”

Joshua falters and you watch him gulp. He looks tired and his lips are red from how hard he’s been chewing on them as you speak. “Y-you know,” his voice is quiet, “You know I’m not.”

You have your answer before you even have to think about it, but you pause for a few moments, waiting to respond. All that comes out is a shallow breath as you look down and squeeze your eyes shut. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I just—” You sigh weakly. “I don’t know. I don’t know anymore.” Joshua doesn’t respond—he knows you’re thinking.

You wonder what to do with yourself. You’re not angry. Not sad either. Uneasy? Maybe. It’s the uncertainty of it all. You don’t understand why you’re not mad, and you don’t understand why you want to forgive him so easily, but you’re starting to realize that you should stop trying to understand the things that might never make sense.

Finally, you nod. “It’s fine.”

“Sorry again. I guess we didn’t wanna make that whole thing all about you. Because like, you’re you, and whatever happened is separate.”

You purse your lips and nod. “Thank you.”

“Was that sarcasm?”

You glare at him. “Dipshit, no it wasn’t!”

“I’m taking this as a sign that you’re feeling better. Am I correct?”

You bite back a smile and shrug. “I guess.”

“Cool, ‘cause I think you’d like to know that my mom stopped by the courtyard the other day.”

“Oh yeah? What’d she say? This is all for her isn’t it—hopefully she liked it.”

“Yeah no, she said it was great. She thought the patterns of the pathway were cool and so she asked me if I could figure out why they were designed like that and I said no. By the way, why did you design them like that?”

“There’s this song I like. It’s called Isohel, and when I first heard it, I liked it a lot,” you explain. “Searched up what it means and stuff and then a few weeks later I was taking some filler class for the credits and my professor goes on some tangent about god-knows-what, and somehow he brings up pictures of an isohel map. An isohel—it’s basically a line which maps out the places that have the same duration of sunshine. Pretty cool, I think.”

“Is that what the pathways are? Are they—what is it—an isohel?”

“Mhm. On an isohel map, they’re not always just lines—they come around full circle sometimes so it looks like these funky, squiggly ovals sometimes,” you ramble. “So I took one of those circle-ish things and broke it up and pieced it together like a pathway.”

“That’s really smart.” Joshua pauses. “You’re really smart.”

It’s not the first time someone’s told you that. Fuck, it’s not even the first time Joshua’s told you that, but it feels different now. He means it, you know it in your bones.

“I-I dunno,” you stammer. “I guess. It just relates to the theme of the sun. My mom taught me about it when I was younger—I loved the sun.”

“So that’s what the theme of your courtyard is? Me and Seokmin have been betting on that for ages.”

You scoff, “You guys bet on that? Seriously, do you have nothing better to do with your time?”

“Clearly not!” he shoots back, causing you to laugh. “Are you really feeling better now?” Joshua asks sincerely, and when you smile and nod, he grins. “Hey, I just realized you talked to me about your feelings—”

“Don’t mention it,” you snap gruffly, crossing your arms over your chest.

Joshua clicks his tongue and chuckles. “There’s the Sunshine I know.”

It’s the next day when you walk into 77. Jihoon’s desk is empty, Mr. Park is just about to leave as you enter and you bow to him quickly as you settle in your desk. Seokmin is in the corner watering the yarrows, seeming to not have noticed you yet.

You watch him closely, smiling softly when you notice he stops before he can overwater them. Quietly, you set your stuff down and Seokmin begins to talk. “Oh, Jihoon, Mr. Park was just looking for you—oh,” he cuts himself flat when he turns around and sees you.

You’re not sure what to do, because Joshua didn’t exactly tell you if he told Seokmin about your conversation and what not, but the look on Seokmin’s face is telling you that he’s just a little behind on the news.

“Hey,” you say casually, throwing a hand up to wave at him as you set your bag down on your desk. Seokmin opens his mouth and then closes it a few times, as if he’s searching for the right words but they don’t quite come out for a few moments.

“Joshua told me that, uh, you know that—” He pauses and glances at you, trying to watch for any hints of anger on your face, but none comes.

“Don’t worry about it,” you say with a shrug, and Seokmin has to blink twice because he’s not sure he heard you correctly at all.

“W-what?”

You narrow your eyes at him. “I said don’t worry about it,” you state again, and then add more softly, “You’re not your father. I get it.” You get it more than anyone. “Anyways, did you get the workers to start planting the hyacinths?”

Seokmin shakes his head once to snap himself back into reality and then shakes his head again a second time. “Wait no, I mean—wait, yes! I mean yes! I did do that—I should go remind them to get on that,” he rambles quickly, clearly a little flustered.

You chuckle. “It’s good to see you’ve been watering the yarrows properly now. Mr. Park finally beat it into you?”

“Y-yeah I guess. I’ve been getting better at remembering them all,” he tells you, starting to fall into a more casual tone. It’s normal, you think. Nice and normal. Nice and normal and just what you need.

“What are you doing here?”

When you turn around with your bag slung over your shoulder, you’re surprised to see Joshua. “Um, working?”

“It’s a Saturday night,” he states, lips pinched together in a funny expression, like he can’t figure you out.

“I think I know that,” you chuckle. “I didn’t know if I could come in on Monday—I need to stop by the university campus for something—so I just came in today to take care of some stuff.”

“You’re a dedicated worker huh … you should just work here forever—the pay is great.”

“Mm, I’m not sure about that,” you say honestly as you look him up and down. It strikes you now that Prince Joshua truly is a handsome man. Dark velvety robes that are even more grand than the ones you’re used to seeing on him, well fit dress pants against his legs and shiny leather shoes that seem to fit his image perfectly. “Anyways, I heard there’s a ball tonight? You’re not going?”

Joshua shrugs as he turns around and starts walking, waving you over to follow him. “C’mon follow me.” You contemplate your choices before telling yourself, what’s the worst that could happen, scurrying on after him. “I left—it got boring, so I got about twenty-five minutes before someone calls me and asks me to come back. My bets are on it being Seokmin ‘cause he’ll get bored.”

You snort at that as the familiarity of this route starts to sink in. “Hey are we going to my …”

“Yeah. Seokmin told me you finally got it named, and I want to check it out.”

“Uh, yeah,” you murmur bashfully—you hadn’t expected Joshua to be that interested in it. You walk through the empty corridors to the hallway that has the North entrance of the courtyard, and Joshua cranes his neck up to look at the golden plaque that rests above the entrance.

“Sol Invictus, huh.”

You nudge him on the side playfully. “You know what that means, Mr. Latin Genius?”

“Of course I do,” he retorts with a roll of his eyes. “Sun god, or whatever,”

“God of sun, but you were close enough I guess,” you mutter as you walk through. The courtyard looks different in the night. It’s nearly done, and as the little warm lights you had placed in intervals along the path light up the scene, you can’t help but feel overwhelming pride with how well you’ve done.

“C’mon, let’s sit here,” he says, pointing down at the circular patch of grass that surrounds the pond in the middle. Joshua sits down first and you watch him carefully before quickly sitting next to him as well.

The grass is cool under your skin, but as a comfortable silence envelopes you and Joshua, you start to think you really don’t mind.

“I think lots of people think I’m stupid or something,” Joshua finally speaks up, and some uncomfortable feeling boils in your stomach at the words. “You know, the only thing people usually compliment me on is my fencing, really. And fencing is one of those things that, if you’ve been doing it as long as I have, you sort of gotta be good at it.”

“I don’t think you’re stupid.”

“I know. Thank you.” There’s a silence as he reaches over the stone lining of the hyacinth beds, plucking a few from the shrubs.

“Joshua!” you complain. “I had those planted just last week.”

“It’s fine,” he mumbles, handing the two he plucked to you. You don’t hesitate to keep your palms open for him, his fingers brushing over the skin of your arms as he does so. You rub the smooth petals between your fingers and a thumb, bringing one close to your chest before taking the other and handing it back to Joshua.

He looks at you, eyes clearly confused, but holds it to his own chest anyways. With your hands behind you on the ground, you lean back and look up at the sky, letting your shoulders relax. The night air pinches at your skin, but the soft fabric of Joshua tuxedo is warm as it brushes next to you.

“Why’d you name this pond Eridenus?” Joshua asks, pointing at the plaque by the pebble lining which spells out the word in fancy lettering.

“You don’t know where it’s from?” you sigh, lifting your head so you can shoot him a stern look. Joshua rolls his eyes and nudges your cheek with his shoulder, motioning you to lean back down at him.

“You know I’m a rascal—I’m forgetful. Tell me what it means.”

“It’s confirmed: you’re a fake mythology fan. I’m suing the universe.” Joshua chuckles and pokes you, egging you to go on. “Do you remember the story of Phaethon?”

Joshua hums. “Uh, son of Helios. Didn’t believe that he was his son. Asked to ride his carriage but lost control and almost burned the Earth?”

You shrug. “Well that’s most of it I guess. He’s racing down to the earth and everything is chaos—rivers boiling, forests on fires, people turning to ash—and so Zeus throws his bolt at him and kills Phaethon right in the sky.”

“Kind of like the story of Icarus. But the opposite I guess. Instead of getting too close to the sun, he brings the sun too close to the earth.”

“You could put it like that. They have the same meaning, I think. But anyways, Phaethon falls out of the carriage and as he dies he falls into this river called Eridenus.”

“Oh.” Joshua’s voice is quiet as you both watch the gentle water lap back and forth in front of you. The small waves hitting the stone barriers of the pound is the only sound that permeates the night sky, besides your shared breaths and the occasional whistling of wind.

“It’s kind of like—” You.

“Don’t say it.” Joshua’s words are crisp and short, and he doesn’t look at you. You want to say the words—I’m sorry—but they get stuck in your throat and ripple through your limbs as you scoot closer to him.

“Anyways,” Joshua finally says, but the word is only followed with silence.

“I think you need to get back to the ball,” you tell him quietly, lifting your head from his shoulder. Your skin burns from where it was previously pressed against him and you silently chide yourself for letting yourself get so close.

Joshua finally turns to face you, and you’re surprised when he chuckles. “So eager to get rid of me, Sunshine?” You scoff, pushing him away gently.

“I-I just don’t want you to get in trouble!” you stutter as you push yourself off the ground, Joshua following suit.

“Aw, so you care about me?” His eyes crinkle up in that familiar way when he says it and you can’t help the childish grin that makes its way onto your face.

“More like I don’t want you to complain to me about how you got scolded!”

“Mm, sounds a lot like you care about me,” Joshua counters, returning your smile with one of his own. You roll your eyes and carefully skip in your dress toward the exit on the North end of the courtyard.

When you almost trip over your robes, Joshua catches you and his rough palm presses against the small of your back as you regain your balance, the two of you giggling together as he drops you off at 77 before heading to the ballroom.

It’s almost laughable how happy you are. Silly you for forgetting that fairytales don’t happen in real life.

The walls look brighter, the chandeliers that hang from the ceiling seem to glitter a bit more, the ground seems smoother; you enjoy walking through the castle in a way you never thought you could.

It’s a normal evening and you’re nearing the end of your time at the castle, but you choose to ignore the odd feeling you get when you think too long about leaving this place. There’s still more work to get done, and you don’t want to spend your time focusing on things that you know will only distract you.

You’re in the middle of Sol Invictus today, looking through a paper and phone as you go through some old plans and checklists, trying to figure out if there is anything you should do before you pack your bags and head towards Joshua’s study.

Just as you’re about to unclick your pen and tuck your things away and head back to 77, someone speaks to you from behind.

“A lovely courtyard we have here.” You know this voice. Everyone knows this voice.

Your blood runs cold as you turn around and face the King, neck craning down immediately as you bow down, stepping away while you hold your hands behind your back.

“G-good evening sir,” you stutter, almost tripping over the stone of your own pathways when you stand up and straighten your back. It’s your first time in years seeing him in person, and you tell yourself as your stomach churns that this was bound to happen at some point.

“Care to tell me about what you’ve got going on here?” he asks, walking around the little stone circle that surrounds Eridenus. “You’re the head of the project, is that right?”

“Yes sir,” you reply quickly, bowing again slightly when he finally goes full circle stopping next to you. His hands are behind his back as you watch him look over the almost complete fields of flowers. “I—uh—it’s called Sol Invictus,” you say. “The—”

“God of Sun.”

“Y-yes sir. Apollo and Helios,” you begin to explain. “Which is why I’ve used these flowers—they’re from one of Apollo’s love stories. They’re quite beautiful, if you ask me, and they fit the kingdom’s colors well.”

The King hums in response. “That’s interesting,” he finally tells you, looking down at Eridenus in front of you. You follow his gaze, staring down at the clear water as you feel your heart rise to your throat in anticipation. You don’t really know what you expect, but if you were preparing yourself for anything, it wasn’t the King saying, “It’s my understanding that you talk to Prince regularly, is that right?”

Your breath hitches in your throat and lodges there along with your heart. “Well, I wouldn’t say—”

“I was speaking to Mr. Park just yesterday.” Oh. “You seem to be a very smart, professional young lady, and it shows in your work.” This can’t be good. “However, I am obligated to remind you: there are boundaries within these walls between the family and its staff.”

“Of course sir. I understand.”

The King watches you carefully, and just when you think he's done, he continues. “There are guards around the castle at all times. there isn't much they miss, I’m sure you know.” This isn't good. This really isn't good.

“It's quite impressive,” you agree, thumbs pressed against each other behind your back. You hear the king take a deep breath, and you wonder if he sucked the air out of you doing so.

"I've heard the pond here is named Eridenus.”

"Y-yes sir."

"Interesting," he murmurs. "Phaeton asked for a bit more than he could handle, didn’t he?" the King chuckles but you hardly hear it over the way your heart pounds. "Let mistakes be learned from, alright?"

You feel your knuckle might buckle. Is this how your mother felt? All those years ago?

The King’s words aren’t nearly as harsh as the advisor who berated your mother, but still, your body sways—you can’t tell if it’s all in your head with all the thoughts that race through, or if it’s the sheer weight of his words that has you almost stumbling.

“It was good to meet you. I’ve enjoyed what you’ve done with this space,” he comments finally, and you step away to face him 

“The pleasure was mine, sir,” you bid, bowing as he turns and walks back to his assistants who whisk him away. You watch the King fade into the distance and disappear to the North end.

He spoke to you for a reason, and the King was right. You are smart. You are smart and professional, and tonight, you know exactly what you must do.

“We need to talk,” you state firmly, closing the door behind you in Joshua’s study. You’re supposed to tutor him tonight, and he doesn’t look up at you as he writes away in his notebook, a smirk making its way onto his face as he starts to speak.

“That’s all I get, Sunshine? No ‘hi,’ ‘hello,’ ‘how are you?’” he teases, but then he looks up at you and catches the grim look on your face and the sound of him dropping his pen echoes through the room. “What is it?”

He stands up so quickly that his chair falls down, but Joshua pays no mind to it, his hands gripping the end of his table as his eyes bore into yours. “What is it?” he asks again and this time he’s hissing it. You know he doesn’t mean to be harsh, but your heart sinks even further than you could imagine.

“Joshua,” and when you say it, your voice is meek. You shouldn’t cry over this—fuck, you hate crying, especially if it’s because of his people. You’ve done more than enough crying over them in your life—you can’t cry over any of this anymore.

“Sunshine, what’s going on? You’re scaring me,” Joshua eggs you on worriedly, moving away from his desk so he can walk over to you. One hand cups your cheek, and you’re struck by the realization that this is the most intimate he’s ever been with you.

What unfortunate circumstances, you think.

“Your father,” you say, having half a mind to push his hand away from your face, but you keep it there because you don’t think you’ll have the will to keep on talking if he’s not touching you.

“What about him?” Joshua asks hastily, grip on your jaw tightening.

“He knows, Joshua, he knows.”

“What are you talking about?” Joshua furrows his eyebrows and asks the question but there’s that voice in his head telling him that he already knows the answer.

“A guard saw us at the courtyard and—”

“We didn’t even do anything,” Joshua tries to protest and with just one look at his face, you can tell he’s trying to figure out ways to rebut whatever that stupid guard saw that night.

“Joshua, you know we can’t do anything about this,” you say exasperatedly, your voice a little louder now that you clutch the elbow of his arm that’s holding your face. “I overheard him talking to Mr. Park.”

Joshua’s eyes widen. “Mr. Park knows? What about your job? Are you going to get to finish the project? Are you—”

“Joshua,” you choke out, and for once you cannot stop your tears. “I don’t care about my goddamn project, I care about you.”

“You love that courtyard,” Joshua argues, and you wince at the way he’s still thinking about that damn courtyard. You brush his hand off of you and for a second it looks like his heart has just broken in two, but then you reach for his face and hold his cheeks with your own two hands.

His skin is smooth and supple with the light grain of stubble that itches against your palm near the underside of your jaw. “Joshua,” you whisper, and it’s now that you feel the warm drops of water hit your skin. Joshua is crying and you don’t think you’ve seen anything that saddens you more. “Don’t cry, please don’t cry,” you beg, fruitlessly wiping away his tears as he silently cries into your hands.

“Why’re you acting like this is the end?” he hiccups and he must hate the sound because he slaps a hand over his mouth and buries his face into it.

“Joshua, no,” you murmur and pull him into you so that his hands can fall and you can cradle his head into your neck, letting your own tears drip onto the silk of his shirt. “It’s not the end,” you try to reason, but he pulls his head away to look down at you with glassy eyes.

“You—you’re lying to me,” Joshua says harshly.

“What are you talking about, I don’t—”

“I know you. I-I—fuck—I fucking know you,” he spits out, causing you to falter backwards. “Why do you think we can’t work this out? I’m the prince, I can—I can change everything and we can be together—”

“Your father —”

“Who gives a fuck, I’ll be king soon anyways and—”

“What if he does something?! What if he revokes your title?”

You’re met with stillness and you think Joshua might just comply with your silent plan but suddenly he’s shaking his head vigorously.

“Okay, then let him. I don’t care about being prince, I—”

“You can’t throw your life away Joshua, not for me!” you protest, holding his face again so you can focus his gaze on yours.

“It’s my life—why, why not?”

“Because I love you. And you can’t sacrifice this—this amazing life—for me!”

“I-I can’t—I don’t,” he stumbles and searches for words as tears fall from his lashes and roll down your hands, your wrists, your arms, “—can’t do it, not without you.”

“You’ve been doing it for years, Joshua, you’ll learn,” you tell him, using one hand to grip his cheek, the other to wipe away at your own.

“You don’t love me,” he chokes out. “You—you wouldn’t do this to me if you loved me.”

“Don’t say that, please.” You press your forehead against his and close your eyes because you can’t bear to look at his tear-streaked cheeks any longer. It’s quiet for a moment, and you can’t help but think that this is the calm before the storm.

“We’ll work it out,” Joshua finally whispers, pulling his head back and cradling the back of your neck with his hands. You don’t say anything, and Joshua doesn’t give you the chance anyway. “Let me have you,” he begs. “We’ll work everything out and it’ll be okay,” he says over a strangled sob, “Just—just be with me tonight.”

And so when you nod, he wipes his tears and pokes his head out of the study to make sure the corridor is empty before tugging your wrist and pulling you to his room. It’s big and grand, just as you’d expect for the prince but Joshua doesn’t want you to look at the intricate walls or the tall ceilings or the golden furniture.

Joshua makes you focus on his burning touch and lets you explore his mouth, his body. And stripped, your bodies are so hot and with wet lips against sheen skin, you feel you might melt into each other’s bones.

Teeth against teeth, nails scraping against skin so hard it digs into the muscle, bruising holds, and sloppy kisses—the feeling is so intense and it crashes onto you and Joshua so hard that you have no other choice but to grip onto each other as you would a lifeline.

And your bodies move so languidly through the sheets, like waves against a shore, or like the wind whistling through the air, until you're trembling and drifting off in each others’ arms.

It would have been perfect. Perfect, if only Joshua had woken up and you were next to him.

Joshua is lost.

After a frantic hour of running around the palace, asking if anyone had seen you, looking for Seokmin to see if he had any answers, Joshua finds himself in the middle of Sol Invictus. And he racks his brain for answers, for a smidge of anything that gives him a reasonable explanation as to why you weren’t in his arms this morning.

Joshua is lost.

He’s staring at the ground now, and all Joshua can wonder is if it was all a dream. If that moment you both looked out his glass window at the stars before you kissed him on his bed was just a figment of his imagination.

He wonders if you actually did thread your soft fingers through his messy hair and hold him close as both hit your peaks together, and he wonders if your lips really did ghost over his skin as he drifted off into sleep.

Joshua almost doesn’t feel Advisor Lee’s hand on his shoulder. He only hears his voice, really, and when he does, the sound grates against his ears.

“She’s gone.” Advisor Lee’s voice has always been harsh, and Joshua wonders how the same man could’ve produced something—someone—as lovely as Seokmin.

“What are you talking about?” Joshua is good at feigning ignorance, but his voice still quivers.

“I know. Your father and mother know too.”

Joshua is lost.

Joshua’s eyes snap up and suddenly his hands are at Advisor Lee’s collar. When the older man doesn’t seem surprised, Joshua sags. “What the fuck do you know. What—” He inhales sharply as he lets go and steps back, inching closer to Eridenus. “—what did you do to her?”

“She left herself.”

“What are—” Joshua heaves. “What?”

He’s doing it before he even realizes it. Stumbling toward Eridenus with his lungs and heart mushed together so tight he’s got a hole in his chest, Joshua steps over the stone lining and crashes into the shallow water.

Seokmin’s face pales when he walks in on the scene. Coming into the courtyard from the South end, he sees Joshua’s figure before he even recognizes it’s him.

That’s not Joshua, he thinks as he watches his father stand in front of Eridenus where the prince sits. That’s not Joshua.

Joshua’s shoulders are always sharp and his eyes are bright. Joshua’s smile is full and his hands are always ready to love.

This isn’t Joshua, and Seokmin feels it in his gut when he approaches Eridenus.

Joshua sits in the middle of the pond. His knees are bent and the cold water stops at the middle of his chest, leaving the upper third of his body dry. His royal coat and velvet pants, his polished shoes and silk button up, are submerged and rub against the algae coated rocks on the bottom of Eridenus.

Advisor Lee doesn’t speak as Seokmin stands next to him, Eridenus in front of the two with the prince in the middle. Joshua doesn’t say a thing. In fact, it seems like he doesn’t even know Seokmin is here now. His neck is tilted down and he stares at his soaked slacks blankly.

Seokmin is stunned.

This can’t be Joshua, because Joshua’s shoulders are always sharp but now they are hunched over and hardly moving, even as he breathes short breaths through his pale lips.

This can’t be Joshua, because Joshua’s eyes are always bright but now they are dull and dead. Seokmin knows Joshua’s eyes are always bright, but he failed to realize what exactly it was that was lighting them up.

Seokmin thought it was the sun but he was wrong, because even now, as Joshua sits under broad daylight, he is still and his eyes are dull.

Two weeks since you’ve seen Joshua’s face and you miss his smile.

You miss his smile, the one that crinkles up all the way to his eyes when he laughs at one of your snarky comments. The one that shines his teeth and the one that seemed to never leave your sight when you were with him.

You miss his smile, but his laugh still rings in your ear, early in the mornings when you blink awake and late in the nights when you gasp in hearty breaths and try not to cry. When you take the walk through the city to your work at Mr. Min’s bookshop, the ringing of the street vendors’ bells are bright and cheery, and sometimes you can hear Joshua’s laugh in the mix.

One month since Joshua last looked you in the eye and he wishes he didn’t know why you left. He wishes he was oblivious, because then he could be angry at you—he could have a reason to forget, to move on, to stop loving you.

Joshua knows why you left and it hurts more than anything because this is nothing like a betrayal at all. You left because you love him, and Joshua cannot dispute that—not now, not ever.

Sometimes he walks through Sol Invictus and plucks a hyacinth, letting it blow off into the wind. He hopes you’ll find the lost petals one day.

Two months since you’ve been in the castle and your life is normal. Well, as normal as it can get for you.

Your first semester of the new year started a few days ago, and you’ve since moved into an apartment near your campus. Your mother thinks it’ll be good for you, and you understand her sentiment but you don’t think she understands.

Ironic, you think. You’ve gone full circle, really. Maybe it does run in your blood, like all the whispers said.

You realize you’re okay with that. Maybe you made a mistake with Joshua, maybe you didn’t. Maybe you almost royally fucked up your reputation more than it already was (thankfully, the Royal Counsel was better at keeping it under the wraps this time), maybe no one cares. Maybe your life is a little bit more messed up now, but again—you’re okay with that.

You miss Joshua. You don’t think you’ll ever stop missing him. You’re also okay with that. You’re starting to realize that you’re okay with pretty much anything when it comes to Joshua. And once again, you’re okay with that.

Six months since he’s seen you and Joshua’s chest aches. Partly because he was distracted during fencing and took a jab straight in the middle but mostly because he misses you.

He stands on the balcony of the royal dining hall, waiting for lunch to be served as he looks over the palace and the kingdom that spread beyond. Joshua sees the tall buildings, the rows of houses, and the infamous Hong University that lay in the middle of the commontown around the hill the castle sits on, and he wonders.

You told him you’d be taking an astronomy class this semester, which should have started a month ago. Joshua is old enough and smart enough to know that collegiate astronomy is more than just the moon and the sun and the pretty little dots that button the sky, but still, he wonders.

The sun and its sunlight, rotations and revolutions.

Will you think about him?

Joshua doesn’t need to wonder—he knows.

The sun is bright today and even though it’s winter, the clouds are nowhere to be seen. It’s a bit of a rare occurrence for the cold months, but Joshua doesn’t mind. When he looks at the blue sky and briefly glances at the sun, his shadow on the stone floor, the reflection of light against the railing, Joshua breathes in the chilly air, filling his lungs deeply.

He knows.

Eight months and you still hear Joshua’s laugh.

You hear it when wind whistles in your ear as you walk to a flower shop to buy a pot. You hear it when you look up at the sun and imagine you’re in the middle of Sol Invictus. You hear it when you crouch down on your balcony, placing the little hyacinth into the pot and packing soil around the base.

You miss Joshua, you miss his smile, and more than anything, you miss his laugh. Right now, as you bathe in the memories of a man so far yet so close, you realize that you can miss him all you want, but you won’t forget. You can’t ever forget.

Ten months later and Joshua’s chest still aches, but he’s okay with that.

He sucks in heavy breaths as his lungs search for air on the fencing match, his trainer leaving the room, leaving Joshua after his request to take a break. Through the rush of blood in his ears, Joshua hardly hears the door behind him open.

“Mingyu told me you’ve been struggling with fencing recently,” his mother says, approaching him. Joshua shuffles in his fencing gear, throwing his helmet to the side.

“I’ve just hit a stump.”

“Something tells me this is more than just a stump,” she inquires as Joshua kicks off his boots.

Joshua scoffs, “What makes you say that?”

“Joshua, what’s wrong?”

He pauses, about to pull off his gloves when he looks up at the Queen. “Everyone in the Royal Counsel knows. I’m sure you know too.”

His mother sighs heavily when he stands up, and she follows him out the training room and toward the Residency Quart. There’s a silence that gaps the mother and son—not that Joshua isn’t used to it. He still smiles and grins, he hugs and he bows, and oftentimes it is genuine, but there’s a silence that always follows. A silence that he never forgets.

A silence he holds when he watches the same kitten you held cross his path when he walks through Sol Invictus, slightly bigger but just as nimble and heart warming. A silence he holds when his eyes gloss over the set of Percy Jackson books in the shelves of his room. A silence he holds when he sinks into his covers and presses his nose to the sheets, wondering if he’ll ever be able to taste your skin on his tongue again.

“I won’t ever understand what went on between you two,” his mother finally says.

“There isn’t anything for you to understand,” Joshua tells her, heading towards his room, but his mother stops him and he narrows his eyes. “What? I felt bad for her, alright? When I saw her all those years ago when it all happened out in the gardens—”

“Joshua, what are you talking about?”

“That’s what you want to know, right? Why I talked to her? Why I—I love her?” His mother gives him a stern look, but Joshua doesn’t relent. He’s starting to realize he’s been too comfortable with this silence. “I never asked you to understand it, but I’ll tell you anyway. Maybe because I pitied her or felt sorry for her or all the same stuff, and maybe I didn’t think she deserved to be ostracized for something she never did but—whatever. I’m not asking you to understand, but I am asking you to leave it alone.”

“You’re my son, Joshua.”

The Queen is Joshua’s mother and she doesn’t understand. She may never understand, and Joshua is okay with that because if he’s being honest, he doesn't think anyone will ever understand. He’s okay with that too.

You will understand, and for him, that’s enough.

You get two letters from the Royal Counsel in your lifetime. You received the first over a year ago—the one you opened with Mr. Min standing across from you in his little bookstore under dingy lights and over the dusty counter. The one you crumpled up and tossed into the dustbin without as much as a second though. The one that led you down a long, winding path which brought you to Joshua.

You receive the second now, standing in your apartment as you look down, except this time you aren’t staring at a paper, you’re staring at the screen of your laptop. You giggle quietly to yourself; Joshua must have taken the Royal Counsel up on still sending letters.

You’ve only looked at the subject of the email so far. It’s got your name and the word “request” written in bold, and you wonder what they want.

Glossing over the text, a wave of nostalgia washes over you. “The Hong Royal Counsel wishes to find you well, as we present a request.” Same shit, huh? “You will have the opportunity to lead a project as you please and earn a notable compensation in payment for your efforts.” Yeah, pretty much.

It’s the same thing, you realize. They want you back—for what, you aren’t sure, but you have a feeling that it doesn’t really matter. Because signed, at the bottom of the email isn’t the usual, “Hong Royal Counsel,” but instead is, “Hong Royal Family.”

The little sun emblem sits below the signatures of the King and Queen, and you press your eyes shut and hold the screen close to your chest, silently praying under your breath that is not a dream.

You don’t know what happened, don’t know what Joshua told them, but to be frank, you don’t care. You’re smart enough to read between the lines.

I don’t understand, they're telling you, But that doesn’t mean I can’t try.

It’s your first day at the castle. Well, your second first day.

When you park your car at the base of the hill, you smile down at the silk over your waist. You abandoned the new ribbon sent to you by the Court, instead donning the one that came to you in a little white box ten months ago. Sometimes, when you hold it close enough, you still think you can smell Joshua’s skin.

You wonder how long you’ll have to wait for him, but as you look up at the sky, you have your answer.

Something speaks to you when you return to 77. Mr. Park is still gruff and cranky but you swear you see the peek-a-boo of a smile on his lips when you walk in. Jihoon’s there too, he greets you regularly.

And of course there’s Seokmin who is hugging you so tight, it reminds you that he is a full grown man and not a child trapped in a large body. You think he almost cries when he laughs with you about how he almost killed the yarrows again (but he brought them back to life! Trust!), and then he beams and tells you that you gotta check out Sol Invictus.

It’s beautiful.

Bright hyacinths that line from east to west and your heart is happy because Seokmin told you he’d get everyone to finish planting them and he did. The purple petals let wind whistle through its stems and leaves, the rustling echoing off the walls of the castle that surround Sol Invictus.

The water of Eridenus gleams under the sun, the stone of your pathways glows brightly, and as your eyes flicker around, you notice something new. In each corner field of Sol Invictus, sits a medium sized sculpture, each of a pegasus but all slightly different in pose and manner.

And then you see him, his back facing you, standing in front of one of the statues that sits in one of the fields on the west end.

Walk the line.

Tracing the pathways—your pathway—from East to West with your shoes clacking their short heels against the tiles—you know he can hear you, but still, he doesn’t move. His hands are neatly holding each other behind his back as his neck tilts slightly upward to stare up at the pegasus.

“Aethon, Aeos, Pyrois, and Phlegon,” Joshua says when you finally stop next to him, shoulders barely brushing against each other. “This one is Pyrois.”

“Helios’ pegasi,” you murmur, glossing over the fine details and intricacies of the statue.

“I thought you might like them.”

You don’t say anything for a moment and grin, watching his eyes light up from the corner of your vision. “I love them.”

“Thank god. You were taking so long to respond, I thought you were going to yell at me for fucking up Sol Invictus.”

You laugh and shake your head, both of you shuffling as you face each other.

“Hi,” you say so lightly it comes out as a breathy laugh when you both finally look each other in the eye.

“Sunshine.” Joshua smiles, holding out his hand. The light is warm when it hits your skin, and Joshua’s dark hair glints a light brown under the beams. You take his hand and run your fingers over the calluses of his palm; his skin is warm when his fingers grasp around yours and as you look at his eyes, you feel it in your bones.

This is Joshua, this is Joshua, and every path you follow will always lead you back to him.

find an alternate ending here!

edit. thanks 4 making it this far! if ur interested i expand on the concept of an isohel more here and little tidbits here, and it's honestly just a ramble but i hope it makes clear why i made some decisions w the story if ur interested :3 a/n. aaah it's done! as per em's request, i will be posting a one-shot of these two and their lives in the future bc i feel like i robbed u guys of a possibly fluffier ending so keep an eye out for that ... anyways, i hope u enjoyed, comments / reblogs would mean the world to me and >_< thank u for reading!

taglist. @synthetickitsune @ixayjun @leejihoonownsmyheart @dahliatopia @gyuswhore @hoeforcheol @5xiang @hajimelvr @miriamxsworld @blinkjunhui @lixiel0ver @josefines-things @mimisxs @kawennote09 @bbyjjunie @rubyreduji @todorokiskitten @98-0603 @hipsdofangirl @minnie-mouser22 @minhui896 @whippedforjihoon @nishloves @woozarts (strikethrough could not be tagged)

#joshua hong #seventeen joshua #hong jisoo #hong jisoo xreader #hong jisoo x reader #joshua x you #joshua x reader #seventeen imagines #joshua #joshua hong angst #joshua hong fanfic #joshua hong fluff #hong joshua x reader #hong joshua #hong joshua smut #kpop fanfic #kpop fluff #kpop angst #svt fanfic #svt fluff #svt angst #seventeen fanfic #seventeen x reader #seventeen angst #kpop #📝 writing #isohel

[hauntedwitch04]

Hero

Dean Winchester x reader

Words: about 1.6k words

Warnings: smut, possessive!Dean, swearing, kinda voyeurism, male reciving, not proofreaded

Author’s note: Hi loves! New day new kink, tbt not my best work but I hope you like it, your witch Becky

Requests are open I Ask

My masterlist

Join the Taglist

If you like my works, consider to buy me a coffee - Patreon submission

KINKTOBER ...........-..........KINKTOBER TAGLIST 2023

DAY 12: Tit-fucking

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Dean had seen Hell, but no torture could match this moment for him.

You went out as usual to celebrate yet another hunt that saw you return home victorious to some seedy bar nearby. None of you, Dean, and Sam had dressed up for the occasion, indeed looking like an ordinary Friday night, but for certain the elder Winchester knew he was going to have quite a bit of trouble when he saw you leave the room a few hours earlier. You were wearing a simple tank top under the usual shirt that is now in common use among hunters, almost in recognition of each other, but that 'outfit so unreasoned was capable of making poor Dean take trips far beyond the pure and chaste thoughts a friend should have about you.

Sam is sitting at the bar sipping his beer while talking to a very pretty girl; you, on the other hand, probably caught up in the alcohol a bit, are having a good time, dancing along with a couple of girls you met earlier while getting drinks, and Dean can't help but stand there watching you ecstatically. Hunter watches you move your body to the music, as your form brushes against the bodies of the other girls, and he can't help but think if it wasn't his body that yours is moving next to.

He dreamed of being able to touch your breasts, caress them and love them, before starting to bite and suck them so as to leave obvious marks, and let everyone see that they were only his, that you were only his; he dreamed of seeing your tits jump at the same rhythm with which he would fuck you, hard and mercilessly; he dreamed of falling asleep on your chest, listening to your heartbeat, and of finding you there when he would wake up because of yet another nightmare.

Too lost in the far corners of his mind, imagining you under him while he tortures your nipples with his mouth, he does not notice that you are approaching him quickly and with fear in your eyes.

As soon as you touch his arm, with a gentle touch, he awakens from that daydream and stares at you, not understanding this sudden change of emotions on your part.

"Hold your ground." She whispers in his ear, before changing expression again and smiling at him with a sweetness that Dean feels melt over the chair in that provincial bar as if he were standing before the goddess of beauty herself.

"Love I finally found you! I couldn't see you anymore and I got worried, luckily this gentleman accompanied me." You say in a squeaky voice, as you point to the man just behind you, who looks at you as if you were nothing more than a piece of meat, who lays his gaze on the hunter once you tighten around his arm with a look mixed between anger and resignation, ready to move on to the next victim.

Dean immediately understands the situation and feels a sudden rage invade his body, in the need to protect you and affirm to the other man that you are not merely a doll good for satisfying his desires, but that you are his to preserve and love, even if the contact of your chest with his arm is enough to short-circuit his brain for a few seconds.

He feels your breasts against his elbow, your skins touching, and for a moment he is sure he would have come in his pants if it were not for the threat in front of you.

"Good thing he was there baby, I was starting to worry." Dean says as he gets up from where he's sitting and moves his arm that you're holding tightly, behind you, to hold you against his chest, to make you feel safer even though selfishly he can't complain about feeling your chest pressed against his. He knows perfectly well that if he looked into your eyes, he would see everything he wants from your cleavage, but after all, he is still a gentleman and this is not the time.

"Well buddy, since I'm so nice to bring your lady back to you, you might thank me by letting me take a ride with her, don't be-" The man begins to say with a grin on his face, before being interrupted by Dean's fist making contact with your face. You look shocked at the hunter, who in response holds you even tighter to him, while gesturing to his brother that he would take you out, or rather to the motel, since Sam was more than busy minding his own business anyway.

Once outside you find yourself in the parking lot, get into the car and start driving. You stand silently beside the man watching him grip the steering wheel until his knuckles turn white. At some point without explanation Dean pulls over and gets out of the car, walking over to the first tree and starts punching it. You immediately get out and stand between him and the poor unfortunate object on whom the hunter has decided to unload his anger by grabbing his wrists.

"Hey, it's okay, you can relax now." You whisper, trying to reassure Dean, who shakes his head.

"You don't know how much willpower I'm using right now not to drive the car back and hit that son of a bitch so hard that I would send him straight to Crowley with a one-way ticket." He comments, as he closes his eyes and prays to any listening deity to give him the strength not to kiss you right now, and ruin your whole friendship.

"Hey I know, but we're here now, he's not our problem anymore." You retort, wrapping your arms around his waist, trying to appease his ire with a hug, but he jumps back at feeling your chest make contact with his again, knowing you would surely feel his erection pressing against your belly.

"I can't even touch you now? What is it with you that that man touched me?" You ask shocked, as you see him shaking his head vehemently.

"No, it's not that. It's just that if you touch me-" He pauses for a moment, to swallow and look you in the eye, and then within a second blow all plans not to ruin your friendship and pounce on your lips like a hungry man. You let him take full control of the kiss, letting you press against the tree as his lips from yours move down your neck, to your shoulder. "-I don't know if I can control myself." He finishes, returning to look into your eyes.

"Who said I want you to control yourself?" You counter, only to kiss him in turn, then kneel before him, unfastening his pants.

"Baby, we can't here, someone might see us." He comments, as he watches you lower his boxers and take his member, already stiff, in your hands before leaving a couple of kisses on the tip.

"Then we'd better hurry up." You retort, winking at him as you begin to move your hand back and forth on his cock, eliciting moans of pleasure from him. You continue this for a few minutes, until you are satisfied with your work, and you lower your tank top slightly so that your breasts come out.

Dean's eyes widen as he sees you rest his member between your breasts and for a moment that this is yet another beautiful dream from which he will wake up as usual with the most painful erection of his life. Instead he feels the soft skin of your chest in contact with that of his member and realizes that it is all real, in fact for a moment it feels like he is going to orgasm right away as he tries to hold back. You squeeze his member between your breasts and he begins to move back and forth creating a friction that Dean would not know whether to describe as hellish or angelic.

After a few minutes managing to find some sort of inner balance to avoid coming right away, Dean finally opens his eyes, to see you looking at him with a satisfied smirk as your hands resting on your breasts squeeze them, causing him to curse.

"Baby, you're going to kill me like this. How did you know my greatest weakness?" He comments, gritting his teeth as he hears you giggle.

"You were never very good at hiding that you were looking at my tits Dean, and this seems to me the best way to thank you for always being my hero in shining armor." You respond as you feel him coming closer and closer to orgasm, so you squeeze his cock even tighter between your tits and increase the speed until he comes releasing all his seed onto your breasts. You stay still for a moment, until you bring a finger to catch some of the cum that was on your chest, and bring it to your mouth, to taste it. Dean that sight almost picks you up, leading you back to the car, opening, however, not the driver's door, but the back seat.

"But how, I thought someone would see us here?" You tease him as he throws you on the seat, and he lies on top of you, kissing you fiercely.

"Let them watch, what is certain is that I will not spend another second of my life without knowing how you groan my name as I fuck you so hard that you forget yours as well."

What can I say, this night certainly promises to be fun.

TAGLIST

@river-rat69 @ladysparkles78 @samanddeansannoyingsis @ash04w3 @l3viathanpup @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf @that1nerd20 @the-house-of-rose-and-ember @hi-my-name-is-riley @shodowbane09 @supernatural-lvr @imaraccoon @shhdontlookk @justawinchesterwhore @deansbbyx @xbugsyx @newtdumbledoorstarksoot @afcnds @biahz1

#dean winchester x plus size reader #deanwinchesterxreader #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester smut #dean winchester fanfiction #supernatural x reader #supernatural smut #dean winchester #kinktober 2023

[lovelybrooke]

Is romantic request OK for bg3? If its is:

When does the companion realise they love Reader ?

Like, what does reader do that make them say to themself "Ah. I love them" ?

So a while a go I talked about the order in which the characters would fall in love with reader, so that is what I'm basing this off of. I really wanted to actually write something so I hope you enjoy it.

Don't judge how I describe magic, okay? it's confusing.

masterlist

---

Gale:

Gale is a romantic at heart, reading romance books, imagining a idyllic life with a lover. When he was younger, he believed his lover would be Mystra, living with the goddess that he dedicated his life to. But now, he finds his wishes to be more complicated. Now you're here, and he finds himself imagining what life would look like if you never leave.

"Gale, what does this one do?" You point to one of his many scrolls.

"It's a simple illumination spell" He responded. "There are much more interesting spells in this pile over here." He pointed to another pile of scrolls, this one inside his tent. You look apprehensive, like you don't want to invade him space. Your care, your kindness, was something new to him. "Go on, take a look, I don't mind." He smiled, watching as you entered his tent and dig through his scrolls, taking great care to not damage them as you explore them.

Your eyes sparkled as you read through each spell, asking question after question about each one. It was times like this that reminded him you were not of this world, so fascinated by things that were so common to others. Every gasp of interest filled his heart with pride, made his mind run with a strange sense of affection. Affection he never felt for another, not even Mystra.

"Wow Gale, these are all so amazing!" As you speak, he's broken out of his thoughts, and he realizes that he is completely and utterly in love with you. Maybe it's a little vain or maybe he's been reading too much, but he craves to hear you praise him more. He wants to hear the sweat sound of your approval be directed towards him, for it to never end.

For once, love and fear don't mix for Gale. He doesn't fear falling in love with you or wanting to devote himself to you. His mind drifts back to Mystra, and he knows it's different. His isn't a boy, someone who can easily be manipulated. He's a man, and he knows what he wants.

And he knows he wants you.

Wyll:

Wyll is valiant, heroic, the exact image of a gentleman. He dedicates his life to protecting the weak, and with you there is no difference.

He doesn't want to call you weak, he knows your inexperience comes from something deeper, but he can't help but pity you whenever your situation. Their fearsome leader, someone from another world, scared and confused, but brave nonetheless. It's admirable honesty, but somedays the world is too cruel, and it agonizing watching you traverse a world that has no care for you.

Like now, as enemies swarm your group, snarling and growling in your direction. You look terrified, but you're hiding it well. But as one of the creatures lunges for your throat, he waits no longer before piercing it through its gut. It twitches and growls before collapsing to the ground. You do similarly, moving towards Wyll and rushing towards his arms. He holds you, feeling your heart beat wildly against him. Your other companions deal with the looting as you quickly compose yourself.

"I'm sorry." You stumble out. "I-i just--"

"No need to apologize." Protectiveness swelled in his chest as he tried so hard to ignore the warmth he once felt when he held you. It was so different than anything else he's felt before. It was comforting, addicting even. He craved it more and more as you backed away from him. He could tell you were disturbed, you've never seen him like this before, but his protectiveness overruled any sense of composure he once had.

"Thank you for protecting me Wyll." You whisper, loud enough for him to hear. In an instant, it was like a weight was lifted from his chest, and he could breathe again. You were safe, he has kept you safe. The warmth, it was spreading through him once more, inviting and so very captivating, just like yourself.

In that moment, Wyll sweared to keep you safe, to protect the warmth that he's come to enjoy. He swears to become your protector, no matter how strong you become, you'll always be his top priority, his captivating love.

Halsin

Your dedication to helping this land is something Halsin finds fascinating. It seems second nature to you, never questioning when someone needs help. It honestly worries Halsin, how easy you can be manipulated by others. Halsin finds himself being worried by you often, like now, as he tends to a gash on your arm, a large wound oozing blood onto the floor of his tent. There is only so much Halsin's healing can do, the bandages on your arm becoming a lass resort from any more serious injuries.

"You must be more careful." He warns you, taking great care to wrap your arm gently, not wanting to inflict more pain onto you. "I do not like seeing you in pain." You seem surprised by his declaration, your eyes widening a fraction. He almost revels in your shock, if it weren't for his concern over your injury.

"You don't have to worry about me." You say once he's finished wrapping your arm. "I am your leader." That was another thing Halsin found fascinating, your bravery. Your sheer determination even while everything else was against you. But he also found it terrifying, seeing you get hurt or put yourself in danger nearly sent his heart into an attack, he just wished you would listen to him.

But he guesses that's what makes you so lovable, your kindness, your bravery, your stubbornness. He wouldn't have you any other way, even if you do fill him with dread from time to time. "Please just--be more careful, for me." He requests, gazing at your wound. Blood has seeped through the cloth already.

You smile "I'll try." Your tone had a light air to it, and Halsin couldn't help but smile.

You were going to be the death of him.

Shadowheart

Shadowheart never understood her peers, but truthfully, her peers never understood her.

She watches with a small scowl as you converse with Wyll, a bright smile on both of your faces, but yours is somehow the only one she can focus on. It angers her--maybe angers isn't the right word, it confuses her. She doesn't understand her companions behavior, you're some random human, gone mad by the parasite. Their adoration, it was strange.

Sometimes, she feels like the only normal person in camp. With Gale clinging onto you like a child, Wyll's near obsession with protecting you, and Halsin's worry over your every move, Shadowheart is to believe that nearly everyone has gone mad. But as she hears you laugh at something Wyll said, and as Wyll somehow moves even closer to you, she starts to believe she's gone mad as well. That same anger burns in her chest and her cheeks glow with embarrassment.

You're so strangely alluring, keeping them entranced to the point of obsession. It's almost maddening how you don't seem to know how taken they all are with you, having them each wrapped around your finger. Shadowheart wants to believe this is all a persona, a ploy to use them for your own gain. But she knows better than to believe something like that, you're not the type to manipulate and lie to people.

She wants to believe that the fire that burns inside her is anger. Anger at you using them, trapping them within your grasps to achieved some strange power beyond their understanding. But in reality, the only thing that burns inside her is jealousy. Jealousy at the others for getting to you first, for taking your time and keeping you close to them at all times.

She'd never admit this out loud however, not wanting anyone to know what you do to her. You are a weakness, she can't have those. But as you call her over to the fire, and as Wyll represses a frown, she finds herself allowing room for weakness, at least for a small while.

Karlach

"Would you like a hug, Karlach?" She would like nothing more, but a part of her is afraid. She trust Dammon and his expertises, but she never wants to hurt you. But as you open up your arms towards her, smiling so brightly, she can't help but wrap you up so tightly, and like expected, you don't burn.

You are everything she's expected and more. You are soft and inviting, and she finds herself not wanting to let you go. You're so warm, but in a way that was unfamiliar to her. It wasn't like the flames of Avernus, hot and overwhelming. It wasn't like the fire burning in her heart. It was like a hearty fireplace on a cold winter day, comforting and familiar, and she found herself missing it as you pull away from her.

"Thank you, Solider." Her voice was sincere. You nod, smiling at her, causing her to smile even more.

Later that night, should couldn't help but think of your warmth, and found herself missing it. It surprised her, how much she wanted to be close to you, how much she wanted to hold your hand, keep you close, and never let go. It worried her, how overwhelming these feelings were, but unlike the fire that once burned in her or her infernal engine, it was something she strangely enjoyed. It reminded her of you, almost like you were forever with her.

As she tries to fall asleep, she finds herself thinking of you, of your hug and your smile, and how she would do anything to feel it again, to never loose you. She knows this won't last forever, Dammon told her as much. Eventually, the heat of her engine will catch up to her and she'll have to make a difficult choice.

But that's something she can think about later, all she wants to do right now is think of you.

Astarion

Astarion thought he was better than his companions. He wasn't going to fall for your act so easily, he's seen it all before. Act helpless in need of saving, have someone to naive and guidable sweep in, and then stab them in the back. He was sure that was what you were up too, but after keeping your act up for weeks, it seemed as though you were playing the long game.

Astarion didn't mind, nor did he judge, he just--wished you weren't so good at it. He wished he didn't fold nearly as fast when you ask him to stitch up your clothing, hiding his blush as you praise him for his work. He wished he didn't seethe with envy whenever you were with another, burning as they hold onto you tighter and tighter. And by gods, he wished he didn't find himself wanting you so damn much.

Astarion pricks his finger as his mind wanters, a small sting spreading through the appendage. A slight hiss leaves his lips before he puts down the shirt his hands, your shirt. It's almost pathetic how much care he puts into repairing your clothing, almost making him laugh. The tear was a small one, there shouldn't be a reason he's keeping it this long, but he finds himself caring a lot about your things, your clothes, your hair, you in general. He hates it, but he can't deny it.

Eventually, he picks the shirt back up, examining it. The old tear, barely noticeable, weights heavily on Astarion's undead heart. Would you notice it? Would you be upset that he failed to do his job correctly? He knows it's stupid to think this way, to care so much about what you think, but he can't help it. You're alluring, captivating even, and it scares him.

It scares him how easily you captivate people. It scares him how easily you captivated him. But most of all, the knowledge of what each of them would do for you scares him the most.

Astarion knows that he's no better than anyone else in your strange group, he's just as swayed by your kindness and compassion as any of them. He's just too scared to admit it.

Lae'Zel

Lae'Zel doesn't like you.

You disturb her, with your strange mutterings and stupidity that has to be due to the parasite. You never seem to know what's going on, and if was in her nature, she would pity you. But of course, she doesn't. She has no reason to feel bad for you, not when everything is at stake, not when any of you could die at any time. But traveling with you has been--eventful to say the least. Her allies seem to see something in you, not that she cares much. You're weak, helpless, insane, and nothing will change that.

Lae'Zel has been taught her entire life that the only thing that matters is keeping herself strong. Surrounding herself with lesser people, weak people, is a distraction to avoid at all cost. But she doesn't have the option now, you are her only option, and she will have to work with what's she's got.

So she protects you, she keeps you safe, and she keeps you alive. She needs you, as little as she wants to admit it. You are important to her cause, nothing else matters. She couldn't care less what you think of her, as long as her parasite is destroyed and her people are saved, that's all that matters.

But she can't deny the surprise she feels when you agree to help her people, when you defend her from the others blatant disrespect, something you claim to be "teasing". She can't help but appreciate it when you, someone so much weaker than her, protect her in battle. It shocking, even more so that she doesn't hate it. She doesn't hate the affection from someone so weak, she doesn't hate it when you rely on her, or when you seek her out.

She doesn't know what she feels exactly, but she knows for a fact that she does not like you.

#yandere x reader #soft yandere #platonic yandere #yandere baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 x reader #baldurs gate x reader #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 #yandere bg3 #bg3 #bg3 x reader

[squirrelwithatophat]

Anders and the Blooming Rose

It’s a fairly minor part of his character, but I find it hilarious that Anders, "The Healer” of Darktown, really does not like the local brothel.  If you take him with you while purchasing “services” from Madame Lusine, you get this reaction...

“You’re not this desperate, I hope.  I treat a lot of these customers in my clinic.”

Then if you ignore the warning and do it anyways (you know, because Hawke)…

Anders: rivalry +5

It’s not a moral condemnation, a complaint about wasting time (à la Beth or Carver), or a vague expression of disgust (of the sort Fenris or Merrill reply with) — Anders, the closest in-universe equivalent to a doctor, is warning the player-character away from soliciting prostitutes on health grounds.

One interesting aspect of Dragon Age II is that it contains many more specific references to disease — which makes sense, given the medieval urban setting, where the top causes of mortality would realistically be infectious disease.  Gamlen explicitly refers to his parents dying of “cholera,” a highly lethal (even today, untreated cholera has a case fatality rate of up to 50%) water-borne illness, and the water supply in Lowtown is described as dangerously contaminated (Hawke can refuse to drink it “even on a dare,” Merrill refers to something “twitching” in the water even after boiling it).  A random NPC asking Lirene about “The Healer” complains, “I can't get my brother off the boat. The grippe's [i.e., the flu] got him bad.” Then there are the multiple references to unspecified STIs, all of which come from (or at least are associated with) Anders.

There’s an amusing line from Anders upon entering the Blooming Rose for the first time (usually but not necessarily during Enemies Among Us in Act 1):

“If someone tries to hire me again, I’m leaving.”

Now, some fans seem to read this as a claim that the Blooming Rose has tried to hire him as a sex worker, but I believe there’s a more plausible interpretation here. (Frankly, I have difficulty imagining that a brothel would be obsessed to the point of harassment with recruiting as their newest rent boy a man in his mid-30’s — and one who, need I remind you, lives in a mine shaft connected to a sewer and notorious for its toxic fumes, dumping of rotting corpses, and disease outbreaks. And no offense to any Andersmancer reading this, but is he really that good-looking?).

Most likely, the brothel is looking to hire an in-house physician (or Thedosian equivalent). Anders is referred to curing STIs and providing other reproductive care. In introducing him, Lirene says, “He's closed their wounds, delivered their children.” One of patients in her shop can be heard crying out, “My mother's in labor! The baby's come early. Can anyone help her?” To which Lirene replies, “I'll send word to the healer.” (Anders may have been delivering babies back in the Circle as well, considering that in MoTA, he says, “At the Circle, any accidental babies are taken away before the mother even sees them.” This could, however, simply be common knowledge among Circle mages). It’s also implied by Wynne that Circle mages practice contraception: “Such births [in the Circle] are seldom, as there are ways to prevent it, but it does happen.” Moreover, Anders appears to be the only person in Kirkwall willing and able to provide these medical services. There are references to useless quacks (e.g., “some purveyor of hensbane and leeches”), but it’s acknowledged in-universe that the only effective healing comes from mages. In DAI, the Inquisitor can express surprise at the presence of a “mundane” (non-mage) surgeon, who goes on to insist that such non-magical methods will be developed in the future, all of which further reinforces the (in-universe) social/cultural equation of healer as mage. Mage healers only appear to be let out of the Circle on rare occasions to treat members of the nobility, but ordinary people don’t receive such consideration. Even the viscount’s seneschal has to seek out Anders for help. In DAI, Cullen casually moons the idea of “healers’ clinics with templar support” (among other potential “opportunities to work outside the Circle”) as a totally novel solution to mage “resentment” over confinement. The Chantry thus far wasn’t willing to release mages to treat sick commoners even with phylacteries to deter escapes and Templar overseers breathing down their necks the entire time; in fact, they were rather reluctant to let out even a handful of senior mages to fight alongside the king against the Blight, something which threatened everyone’s lives fairly equally (and even then couldn’t resist the temptation to make the mages feel as unwelcome as possible). “The Healer of Darktown” was well-known to illicitly (that is, in defiance of Chantry restrictions) provide health care for free to the masses, and this service not surprisingly had earned him quite the number of admirers and defenders. Lirene resists being threatened for information about him by saying, “Any Fereldan in the city would lay down his life for the healer, after what he's done for us,” and a mob of Ferelden refugees even prepare to attack the heavily-armed party out of fear that the latter might harm him or report him to the Templars.  His Act 2 Codex likewise reads: “When not with the Champion, he spends his time among the Fereldan refugees in Darktown, healing their ills and counting on their loyalty to protect him from curious templars.” Should it be a surprise then that a private business might be interested in his skills, especially when disease is threatening their bottom line and injuring customers?  

In the game, we actually see two frequent patrons of the Blooming Rose end up in Anders’s clinic for treatment.

Dissent (Act 2), if Isabela has been left behind:

Anders: ...don't come running to me next time you pick up one of these diseases.

Isabela: Isn't that the point of magic?

Hawke: I don't want to know.

Dissent (Act 2), if Isabela is in the party:

Seneschal Bran: And that will, ah, stop the itch?

Anders: Yes. Though I would stay away from women you meet in the port. Pirates tend to... dock in unsavory places.

Isabela: I heard that!

Anders: Just use the salve if it comes back.

This is probably also what Isabela is referring to in the opening to Speak to Fenris (Act 2):

Isabela: So the seneschal's tax collector won't be coming around again, like you asked. Funny story.

Fenris: I'll pass, but thank you for the help.

Isabela: Spoilsport.

Seneschal Bran appears to be a regular with a particular fondness for Serendipity, a drag queen (or transfemme?) and one of the highest-paid workers at the Blooming Rose, whose gender nonconformity is generally Played for Laughs.  Bran can be seen on a “date” with her at Duke Prosper’s party during Mark of the Assassin, and Serendipity can later be heard commenting, “I haven't seen the seneschal much lately. Don't tell me the man's gone religious” (to which someone responds, “No, he just keeps terrible hours now”).

Isabela, of course, talks about sex and her enjoyment of brothels (including the Blooming Rose) quite frequently.  In Dragon Age Origins, we meet her dueling two men at The Pearl (Denerim’s main brothel), and she can (in)famously be talked into a threesome or foursome with the Warden and their LI, although in that game it was unclear whether she was hiring prostitutes or simply ended up there in the course of searching for dueling partners (given that the building had been occupied by mercenaries, and one of the optional quests in Denerim is to clear The Pearl of disruptive mercenaries on behalf of the city guard) or following/checking on her crewmen. In DA2, it is confirmed that she was going to The Pearl for sex, and Anders remarks, “You used to really like that girl with the griffon tattoos, right?” to which Isabela replies with the name “The Lay Warden.”

(For now, I’ll just ignore the unfortunate implications of Bioware depicting a promiscuous black woman repeatedly contracting STIs and unrepentantly spreading them to white men for blackmail purposes.  But yeah, yikes).  

Historically, the emergence of STIs as a major social problem has been associated with urbanization and military mobilizations — basically, situations in which large numbers of individuals had opportunities for unprotected sex, especially with multiple partners, away from the usual social control mechanisms such as cockblocking parents (and virtually all sex was unprotected until latex condoms began to be mass-produced in the 1920s-30s). Without the safety measures we have in place in licensed brothels today (e.g., condom requirements, regular STI testing), brothels and red light districts were superspreader bonanzas, and perhaps unsurprisingly, medical professionals tended to take a rather dim view of them, to put it mildly. Modern readers often historical interpret opposition to brothels and camp followers (in the military) on the part of medical and public health authorities as expressions of prudery, religious conservatism, and/or misogyny, and to be frank, they very often were. Yet at the same time, in the pre-condom and pre-antibiotic era, STIs represented a major public health burden and cause of disability, disfigurement, infertility, and premature death, and there few practical measures beyond simply urging everyone to keep their pants on (which worked about as well as one might expect).

Circling back to Anders, it's notable that he takes a much more negative view of sex in the second game than in Awakening, during which he seemed eager to hump anything that moved. This could at least in part reflect the influence of Justice, who seems to regard anything other than fighting for justice and engaging in public service to be "selfish" and even slothful (as in demon-y sloth). Or simple aging and maturity. Or, on a meta level, it could be an odd re-characterization due to the change in writer. But I like to think that his newfound discomfort with no-strings-attached boning is an unfortunate side effect of being a charity doctor working into the late hours to accommodate an endless stream of dick wart patients. It's already a shame that his clinic and service for the poor is relegated to such a background element, especially given the role such work would realistically play in forming a person's character. In terms of character development, it would have been interesting to explore how his work in the clinic could itself had a radicalizing effect — after all, it would bring him face-to-face with the tragic consequences of Chantry policy on mundanes (rather than just mages) as well as demonstrate magic’s contribution to the greater good on a daily basis. But this angle unfortunately never comes up in-universe.

TL;DR What I'm actually saying is that the real tragedy of Anders's character arc is the profound decrease in sluttiness between the two games.

#dragon age #dragon age 2 #dragon age meta #anders #anders* #anders dragon age #da meta #dragon age ii #da2 #dragon age awakening #justice #spirit of justice #the blooming rose #isabela #Isabela dragon age #isabela rivaini #seneschal bran #serendipity #fenris #madame lusine #sti #std #disease #history of disease #100 #200 #300

[theglidingbat]

Ok but Krypton!lives au but clark isn't some jerk alien prince, he is a brat no doubt but he's also just so oblivious to everything. Have some of my headcanons for this:

•I imagine it starting with kal el dropping down on Kansas farm [grown up and shit] being found by the Kents as they patch him up and take him down on the guest room, he wakes up freaks out a bit speaking in kryptonian and just floating around the house being overly careful of everything, ma and pa kent are confused and so is Kal, he tries to communicate with them and they finally find a common ground and after a month clark finally learns the human language.

•zod has managed to exile kal from his home planet, suffice to say kal el is currently heartbroken and looking for help

•Kal just saw some random pair of glasses and thought they were so cool so now he just wears them whenever he's in casual clothes but is in no way trying to hide his identity, people are just that dumb.

•Does not get social cues at all and will unwillingly say the wrong thing at the wrong time, he's just a happy little guy who wants to explore this strange planet and then go home

•he particularly likes rock music despite his personality, he finds hardcore metal music soothing

•he once tried to eat Batman's ears, in his defence they looked edible to him,

•Diana loves to fill in kal with false information about the human race, kal is not stupid enough to belive them but follows them anyways just because he thinks it would be funny

•Bruce has a very subtle crush on him and kal notices this immediately, he's confused as to why Bruce pretends to hate him

•The whole league [escpically bruce] is overprotective of him, lex Luthor doesn't stand a fucking chance

•Kal el has no filter and will call you out with a bright innocent smile and float away moving on with his day

•Kal lives in the watchtower only visiting earth for league business, he rarely works alone

•he floats near the Zeta tubes almost everyday hoping to see bruce and when he's not there he's disappointed

• he refuses to walk, he thinks he's done enough walking for a life time and bruce has to tug on kal's cape to make sure he isn't floating above his seat

•he is way more capable of communicating his emotions in kryptonian then in English, he will switch to kryptonian when he's ranting or angry

•Diana and Barry are the ones who suggest he make a civilian identity, and thus is born reporter clark kent.

•He still visits the Kents here and then bringing them souvenirs from space

•Does not understand when someone is flirting with him but will bring bruce random animals he finds in the wild as gifts because "I heard from Jason you like adopting tiny lonely beings"

•he's still pretty good at hiding his identity somehow and at this point as learned all social cues and slang thanks to lois

•yet he still decides to fuck with the league, he gives batman forehead kisses, he once called green lantern a thot ["does that not mean thoughtful?"] And will very knowingly insult anyone who even looks at his loved ones the wrong way

•while bruce is more open of his protectiveness [and possessiveness] of clark, Clark himself is more subtle and quiet about it, but not forgetting he's still technically a spoiled prince of Krypton cannot share. He snatches bruce and gets pouty whenever bruce is talking or flirting with anybody else

•it takes them five years to get together but it finally happenes and they start dating

•the kryptonians finally find clark and force him to go with them but clark now refuses even if his exile is over.

•unfortunately he really can't leave his planet behind and has to leave [he and bruce have a long sad conversation and clark breaks down]

•A month later bruce is handling another team meeting when Clark finally comes back

•he offically leaves Krypton to his older cousin Kara and moves in with bruce

•his favourite movies are the James bond movies

•The batfam all adore him

•Basically I want a Au of sweet innocent clark that's oblivious to innuendos and shit while bruce suffers in silence and the evolves into clark being a little shit who pretends he doesn't know what he's doing when pulls bruce close and whispers in his ear about smth knowing damm well he's doing things to Bruce.

Also-

Diana: Batman if your done fighting with your boyfriend, we need to leave

Batman: wha- kal is NOT my boyfriend!

Kal: (has only be in earth for a year) I'm not?

Batman: I-

Kal: Am I not your friend?

Batman: no kal I never said-

Kal: am I not a boy?

*jla snickering in the back*

#superman #clark kent #batman #justice league #au #krypton lives au #superbat

[mrs-gauche]

If the Spirit!Solas theory happens to be true—and I’m confident it is—then it really gives you a new level of respect for how much restraint this guy has.

I’m talking specifically about his interactions with Dorian. The part where Dorian is trying to convince Solas that enslaving spirits is cool and neat and not wrong because ‘spirits aren’t people.’

Imagine having the strength of character to listen to someone tell you to your face that you are not a person and therefore undeserving of the most basic civil rights without immediately decking them in the face.

Solas puts up with tool much, man.

Oh yeah, definitely! 😂 (As much as I feel for Dorian just trying to find some common ground...) I guess that one line in Tevinter Nights does a great job of putting Solas' attitude on this matter in a nutshell.

[…] roared not in anger, but with quiet contempt. "From this moment, should you ever bind a spirit, then your life is mine."

Keep in mind, Solas has witnessed spirits suffering from the consequences of creating the Veil for at least a thousand years at this point, if only from the Fade. When he's saying "It hurts. It always does." to the Inquisitor after returning to Skyhold and Wisdom's death, he's referring to the countless times he had to watch his friends being drawn to the waking world, either forced, or to see them “wish to join the living”, only to be twisted, bound, corrupted, killed, you name it.

"How small the pain of one man seems when weighed against the endless depths of memory, of feeling, of existence. That ocean carries everyone. And those of us who learn to see its currents move through life with their fewer ripples."

Much like a lot of his banter with Sera taunting him about his grief for the past, at this point, Solas is so old and has witnessed so much history, so much pain, that Dorian's remarks couldn't possibly evoke any real anger from him. It's so insignificant compared to what he has seen. There's a reason why Weekes keeps emphasizing how friggin tired Solas truly is. This is after all the general perception of spirits in present Thedas, aside from a few cultures like the Avvar. He can't blame Dorian for Tevinter raising him to think of spirits as nothing more than "amorphous constructs", just like he can't blame the Dalish for the knowledge lost to time. Similarly to any other argument he has with the other companions, Solas' frustration/resentment is almost never aimed at them personally, but rather at the current state of the world that shaped their perspective. (As is also evident in how his banter always ends up with them eventually coming to terms and grow a mutual/respectful relationship. The only exception being a low approval Inquisitor and Iron Bull if he chose the Qun over the Chargers… In that case, the hostility was definitely personal. 😂)

(That being said, I'm SO hoping for any kind of serious emotional outbreak from Solas in DA4, since there's still like a thousand year old trauma that needs to be addressed. lol)

But yeah, I think, going by his actions in Tevinter Nights, Tevinter is definitely not ready for what's probably coming for them in DA4, now that Solas is actually able to change things. 👀 And isn't it interesting how he will now be facing the Imperium, which was essentially built on the ruins of the empire he brought down/the same slavery based system he once rebelled against, so history kinda repeats itself? lol

I think it's also very telling how Solas will immediately counter Dorian's comments on the treatment of spirits in Tevinter by directly comparing it to slavery.

Dorian: "There's no harm putting them to constructive use, and most mages back home treat them well." Solas: "And any that show any magical talent are freed, are they not?" Dorian: "What? Spirits don't have magical talent." Solas: "Oh, I'm sorry. I thought you were talking about your slaves."

But the beautiful irony in this, as I've talked about in this post, is how this draws a direct parallel to how Solas, in return, doesn't recognize the people of the waking world as real either, at least not until after the Inquisitor considers Wisdom a living being worth saving. This and his admission to the Inquisitor after he returns to Skyhold is imo the turning point in his character development. Imo, this is what leads him to say "Not at first. You showed me that I was wrong." in his high approval ending in Trespasser.

And this is also why I think that the theory of Solas intending to save the spirits first and foremost would make for such an interesting story actually.

The waking world doesn't view spirits as real people. Just like Solas can't accept the people of the waking world as real. So, what will happen if he tears down the Veil, and the Fade and the waking world become one again? The Inquisitor was potentially willing to save Wisdom despite it having already turned into a Pride demon. And in doing so, the Inquisitor unintentionally put up a mirror in front of Solas' face and basically went "If I can see them as real people worth saving, why can't you?".

And if the spirit origin theory is true, then it could make for a fascinating inner conflict. Solas, living in both the waking world and the Fade, having been a spirit and a corporeal person, is now facing the question of who "his people" actually are. Where does he belong? After all, his biggest fear remains to "die alone".

While this was said in more of a joking manner, Weekes' words from 2016 really put it into perspective here. Solas sees himself in that old fisherman he saw in the Fade. He is "the one who lived". So, I picture it like this… Solas is left alone in the Fade after the creation of the Veil. Spirits are now his only company for the next thousand years. Whether or not those spirits were the remaining souls of the elves he tried to save, we don't know, but regardless, I truly believe they are his people. But he is not a spirit. At least, not anymore.

Cole: "You don't need to envy me, Solas. You can find happiness in your own way." Solas: "I apologize for disturbing you, Cole. I am not a spirit and sometimes it hard to remember such simple truths." Cole: "They are not gone so long as you remember them." Solas: "I know." Cole: "But you could let them go." Solas: "I know that as well." Cole: "You didn't do it to be right. You did it to save them." Inquisitor: "Solas, what is Cole talking about?" Solas: "A mistake. One of many by a much younger elf who was certain he knew everything."

In this banter, Cole reveals to us that Solas' mind immediately goes from "It's hard for me to accept I'm not a spirit" to "the people that were lost when Solas created the Veil". To me, this pretty much confirms that the people of Elvhenan and spirits are connected, if not one and the same. It's assumed that the Evanuris mined the Titans to somehow create bodies for spirits to inhabit, and that Mythal gave Solas a body against his will. There's also the theory about the creation of the Veil having caused the separation of body and spirit.

You know, I've written so much about this in previous posts and I don't want to sound like a broken record, but if we consider all those little clues and look at all of his dialogue in that context, it just makes so much sense to me, that what he wants to do is primarily to save the spirits/destroy the barrier for them to enter the waking world without their purpose getting corrupted. There's also still the matter of the Blights and red lyrium otherwise probably consuming the entire world. 😅 I think that's what he's referring to when saying "What I am doing will save this world" in Tevinter Nights.

And remember, "Dread Wolf" is still literally an anagram for "World" and "Fade". 😂 Both worlds colliding is quite literally in his title. lol Whatever the six eyed high dragon sized Dread Wolf actually is, as far as we know, he only seems to exist within the Fade, but how exactly is he connected to Solas and what will happen to him if he tears down the Veil (which btw is also definitely gonna happen… I mean, besides the fact that the Veil is getting weaker regardless of Solas' actions)? ANYWAY.

Sorry for rambling so much (and I feel like my English is a little rusty, too 😖), but I haven't talked about this stuff in a while and the lack of news is killing me. 😂 But your message gave me something to think about again, so thank you! :)

#oh no this got so long again 😖 #solas #also again Bioware I beg you please give us that ''Solas calling his spirit army and charging into battle'' moment from TN 👀 #tinfoil time #da4 #''Spirit self. Seeing the soul. Solas. But somehow sorrows.'' #watch us play DA4 one day and none of this turn out to be true 😂 #but I'm gonna die on that hill lol

[ramshackledtrickster]

this might be an odd question but do you think if he were raised by haytham, connor could have become a templar? i personally kinda don't enjoy templar!connor aus i find but i also can't decide whether or not this outcome could have been an actual possibility for him if his upbringing was more influenced by haytham because to me it never seems to fit with the way i understand his character in my head

Me personally I don’t really like these aus to begin with, so I agree it’s hard to imagine Ratonhnhaké:ton in any world siding with Templars, even if he was raised to believe it. This brings to mind other factors too, like would haytham have completely separated from his own culture and people? Would Ziio be alive in these aus? Would he have met Achilles at all?

When Connor in the game tries to look for common ground to fight for justice, at that point I don’t believe it’s because he sees merit in the Templars’ end goals, but rather to help haytham see more reason and try to see if that shred of empathy or humanity still in him, but realizing that’s a lost cause.

There’s something to be said about Haytham being raised as a templar by force and aus that explore how that affects his motivation, and how that creates a cycle of violence from one generation to the next and perpetuates the subsequent dehumanization that comes with imperialist ideals (both of people around them and themselves in order to maintain that ‘order’), but having Ratonhnhaké:ton become a templar would have some,, very unsavory implications considering what the templars ultimately stand for. Also his personal journey to me is essentially about breaking those cycles, so I prefer that being the way it is.

If he doesn’t at least break out of that cycle, then I can’t see any templar!connor au working for me

[tmntxthings]

I am very curious about headcanons of what the Rise!boys would be like with a small Reader. By small I mean shorter than Mikey, only up to his chest. :3 I am imagining the Reader being easily flushed when it comes to their heights (might be a little selfconcious about it), but there could be some cute things, like them perching on Raph's shoulder? But also being teased about it, like Mikey, now not being the shortest, holding something over the Reader's head so they can't reach it? I thought it might be fun and wholesome. ^w^ (Also, thank you for your answer last time, you're so nice! I can't believe I was so nervous about writing you >///<)

The Smallest

author’s note: hiiiiii, i take wayyy too long with hc’s, sorry for the wait <333

warnings: nothing but fluff :D

—————————————————————————

Raph

Raph would be super worried around you at first. Him being so large and you so tiny, tinier than Mikey who was literally the size of one of Raph’s arms. Yes he felt really self-conscious, because the last thing he would want to do is hurt you.

So don’t be too upset if he doesn’t approach you at first, he just needs time, time to see that he won’t accidentally hurt you. Because not only is he bigger he’s also pointier. His spikes have ripped through so many of his clothes he’s just accepted it at this point. His clothing will always have tears.

He feels the most comfortable around you when he’s lower to the ground, sitting on the couch or on a bean bag chair in the common area. The two of you could practically be the same height during those times and he finds it endearing when you take those moments to shower him with attention! “Lookie here we’re eye level now!!” You teased, yes you made fun of yourself most of the time because otherwise Leo would beat you to it.

The more time that passed the more Raph would feel at ease, scooping you up in his arms was just natural for the two of you. You were so light, he could hold you for hours without strain! And you appreciated the new view, sitting on his shoulders was your absolute favorite though, feeling super tall! “Gosh Raph, this is what it’s like to be you huh?” and he laugh, “Yeah, how’s the weather?” He would joke and you’d smack the top of his head playfully.

“Ow okay okay!!” It didn’t hurt him at all, but he played along, smiling happily, he thought you were just the cutest. “Raphie wanna go play DDR?” He’d immediately turn from the ramp room, heading for the arcade. “Challenging the champ?” He’d say glancing up with a smirk. “The champ is about to go down!!”

It was a close match, Raph coming up short by just one point but he’d turn to you and see you jumping up and down with excitement. You couldn’t believe you had actually beat him!! You’d jump up into his arms and Raph just couldn’t sulk with defeat, not when you were celebrating like that. “Did you see that?!! I was on fire!!!”

“You dance like a boss!!” He’d beam, unable to stop himself from stealing a quick kiss to your cheek. “Raph!!” You squeaked, blushing furiously and he’d just pretend to be none the wiser. What did he do?? Kiss you?? When?? And he’d kiss your other cheek just as quickly, a big smug grin on his face.

Leo

He would definitely tease you the most. “Hey short stuff~” you’d never hear the end of your height. He wouldn’t stop unless it really bothered you. Some days you wouldn’t tolerate it and he’d shut his trap real quick, offering genuine apologies, going down dramatically to ask for your forgiveness.

But on most days it was fine, and he only teased because it was part of his love language. “Y/n, I can carry you on my shoulders too you know!” He’d definitely get jealous to see you having so much fun on his older brothers shoulders. He was taller than you so it’d still be fun, right?! Though Leo couldn’t hold up as long as Raph would, he’d definitely pick you up, twirl you around in a tight hug, before placing you back down on your feet.

“Someone said what??” He’d perk up at the thought of someone else teasing you for your height. “Want me to portal over to their house and scare them?” He’d ask mischievously. Would definitely want to have some words with this bully. Or an even worse thought, they were flirting with you?! Gah it almost made him gag, that type of flirting was reserved for Leo and Leo alone!

“No no, I think I will pay them a little visit, don’t worry I won’t scare them too bad.” Total lie, he’d make sure they wouldn’t mess with you ever again. “Lee, it’s fine, you tease me like that too!” You even pointed it out to him and he would glower, “well yeah but only I can do it, I don’t go as far as them either!” He’d convince you one way or another.

What he loved to do most was keep things out of your reach. “Hey Leo can I have some chips?” You’d ask coming up to where he was leaning against the kitchen counter, munching away. “Hmm these?” He hands them over only the stretch his arm up and away at the last second. This game of keep away would go on for a while. “Okay okay I promise, that was the last time,” he’d smile endearingly, offering you the bag for the thirteenth time.

Your eyes would narrow, slowly reaching out your hand then making a mad grab for it. Leo was too quick for you though, and he’d laugh at how you would groan and give up completely. “Awww c’mon shorty, here here, no more teasing,” and you’d snatch the bag from his hands still not trusting him to try and annoy the hell out of you. “You’re so lame!” Sticking your tongue out at him. You better run after that because the mischievous look in his eyes would tell you that he was going to prove you how not lame he was.

“Oh babe, me lame? Ohoho where are you running off to?! Come back here!!” He’d already have a plan at how to make you eat your words.

Donnie

Donnie would be the most unaffected by your height. Practically never brings it up! He would be protective of you, worry about the things lying around in his lab. Wondering if something was a hazard to someone at your stature.

“Wait wait Y/n, I’m not done with this project, and it’s dealing (insert crazy toxins that could be dangerous to humans/anybody without the right gear on)” Donnie would be in like a whole getup, opening his lab door only a smidge to be able to tell you, no you couldn’t come inside that day.

“But when are we gonna hang out??” You said trying to peer past his form to get a look at the cool dangerous stuff. Your interest in hanging out with him would definitely have Donnie ending his lab work for the day quickly, “I’ll be just a moment more!” He said hurriedly, closing the door as you took steps away.

About 15 minutes later you were leaning against the wall by his lab door, on your phone scrolling aimlessly, perking up when you’d hear a loud boom or crash from the lab. Then suddenly the door opened, Donnie fumbling to put up his goggles. “Greetings!” Donnie smirked after getting them to lay perfectly atop his head.

“Greetings mad scientist, how’s the toxins?” He started his stroll to the living room, sounding way more casual and less worried as you continued to follow him away from the lab, “hazardous as usual,” he shrugged. And you wondered if he was trying to get back into his bad boy persona.

“So the plan today?” you asked curious to see if he would remember. He took out his phone, “Hey!” and he started walking faster, “that’s cheating!!!” you whined, knowing he was going check the messages between the both of you. “Ah yes!” He turned back to give you a sly smile, “fly you around New York, how could I forget!” He mused entertained to see you grumbling.

“For a genius who can remember all of pi how can you forget something we just texted about yesterday?!” You pouted, wondering if he was acting like he forgot to keep up the persona or if he really was losing his memory. “You’ll have to forgive me it may be the side effects of the-“

“toxins” you finished and smacked your palm to your face. “Remind me why you are working with such dangerous chemicals again?” And it was Donnie’s turn to gasp. You blinked coming to stand next to him. He looked down at you with hurt eyes, one hand going to his chest. “Don’t you remember?”

And your eyebrows furrowed, “Y/n! You wound me, it was just yesterday when I told you the why’s and how’s and when’s!” His hand went up to cover his mouth in disbelief. “You’re messing with me! I don’t remember..” you had started strong but then you began to second guess yourself.

It was your turn to whip out your phone going to check the messages you and Donnie had sent yesterday. Which had been a lot. As you scrolled, eyes set in concentration, you missed the way Donnie’s face morphed into one of adoration. Snickering to himself at how serious you looked. His hand came to rest atop your head, leaning down to your ear, “gotcha~”

Mikey

Mikey would be a ball full of joy at not being the smallest anymore. And he’d be allllll over you, from the very beginning. “Oh-mi-gosh!! You are soooo adorable, hi I’m Mikey, and what’s your name cutie?” He’d be fawning over you 24/7

“Y/n, oh wow what a beautiful name! It suits you perfectly~” he honestly isn’t even trying to flirt, he’s just the sweetest person ever and a definite hype man/turtle! If you ever feel self conscious about your height he is there to tell you, “what?! Y/n trust, you are perfect the way you are, who doesn’t love fun-size!!” Seriously he’s always cheering you up and cheering you on

If you are ever nearby he’s swinging his arms around your shoulders, pulling you close and leaning over you. He likes to put his chin on top of your head and you can just feel when his face breaks into a big happy smile. If you grow even an inch he’ll notice, “cutie pie?! when did you start growing! you have to stop or else you’ll be taller than meeee!” He’s teasing of course

Mikey wouldn’t care if you suddenly had a growth spurt and shot past him, he’d just jump into your arms! “They’re not little, they’re fun-sized!” Out of all the terms for small you hate being called little the most, it always sounded so demeaning. Mikey would speak up for you, because this was a job for Dr. Delicate Touch! “And what’s so great about being an absolute giant lanky beanstalk anyways?!” He’d retort to your bully

You’d have to cart Mikey away, pulling at his arm for him to reluctantly follow you. “It’s okay Mike, really,” he’d get serious, squeezing your hand, “no, I could tell what they said hurt your feelings, honestly they must lack brain cells!” He’d huff, turning his face back to see if the culprits were still there. But you’d tug on his hand and he’d immediately look down. “Thanks Mikey,” you said smiling all teary eyed at your defender.

His eyes would get misty too, “shucks Y/n! Of course!! anytime!! I’ll always be here for you,” and he’d pull you into a crushing hug. The best kind, where you just felt so much love. “When’d you get so tall?” You joked, sniffing back the tears from falling. He snickered looking down at his feet, and you followed his gaze seeing he had obvious sole inserts. “Pftttt,” you laughed and he laughed too, “what’re you talkinggg about I’ve always been tall!” he continued joking

#rottmnt x y/n #rottmnt x you #rottmnt x reader #rise raph x reader #rise leo x reader #rise donnie x reader #rise mikey x reader #rottmnt hc #tmnt hc #hc #tmnt fandom #tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #teenage mutant ninja turtles #turtle bros #leonardo #raph #donnatello #mikey #michelangelo

[cupcakeslushie]

Hey!! So my asks don't seem to be sending so I hope this one does

I am obsessed with you AU!! I have so many ideas

At one point you mentioned that Three/Donnie can't lie and is usually brutally blunt. But can he DECIEVE? I can imagine him at the beginning of his arrival trying tricking April to go with him to the lab (probably to disect her or such, stupid humans) with a facade that he's fine with humans and just wants to play, and were it not for Raph warning her beforehand about Donnie's hate for humans she would've bought it. Could this happen or am I reading too much into it?

Sorry guys, I’m so behind on asks so I’ll be doing a bunch in batches tonight!

Pretty much none of them are good at lying. Leo can ACT if it’s for a mission and fib about small things but hates lying in general. Raph can stammer his way through a poor excuse to Splinter’s face, and when it comes to flat out keeping secrets Mikey is just horrible….BUT Mikey is more the type to be the little devious emotional manipulator, just from learning from Big Mama how to work people. Thankfully he uses this particular talent to be helpful (for the most part—sometimes he uses it to get the last slice of pizza and claims little brother rights).

Now for Donnie, it just doesn’t even occur to him to do anything but tell it like it is. Also he doesn’t have much interest in April apart from getting into petty arguments—he mostly ignores her until they find enough common ground that they can carry on a convo without devolving into children. He will always ask if he wants to test something out on his brothers. This is one of the bigger differences between him and canon—Sometimes though, he will think that something is mild, but then judging by their horrified expressions he supposes it’s just one of those times where his baseline for what’s normal is effed up. His biggest issue is testing things on HIMSELF without a care to thinking it through. To be honest the idea of testing things on his brothers or even April, without their permission makes him pretty nauseous, despite one side of his brain telling him that it won’t do any harm just to try, and the other screaming that he doesn’t want to be anything like Draxum.

I’ll reveal more soon, about how Draxum has actually cut a deal with Big Mama. They’re both okay biding their time, so Draxum isn’t in too much of a rush to collect Mikey. In Draxum’s mind, the Battle Nexus is the perfect place for him to evolve his skills. Now that doesn’t mean he’s completely happy with leaving Four in Big Mama’s hands, so Draxum creates a way to remain informed, and Big Mama is fine to take him up on it—just another variable she’s hoping to eventually manipulate in her favor…

This doesn’t stop Draxum from hanging the threat of collecting Mikey over Three’s head if he doesn’t behave.

BUT if we’re talking hypotheticals and if he did end up collecting Mikey, I think Donnie would become the ultimate overprotective brother. Any time Draxum would need a test subject, Donnie would offer himself up, no more fighting, no more trying to get out of it—not if it meant Mikey would be spared. Meanwhile I think Mikey would be plotting their escape and would eventually manage to convince Donnie that running away and living on the streets would be better for them.

He does still love to dance and bounce around, especially while working in his lab with the music loud enough to make Draxum’s ears bleed—which I suppose would mean his password would still be the same!

@yesnervousdreamcollection Oh like you would believe! *Slaps the top of Donnie’s head* This turtle can fit so many personal space issues inside him! He’s very clingy and can lean in much too close when talking to someone, but as long as he’s the one doing it he’s fine. Hugging is one of the many ways he works through being overstimulated. But if he doesn’t see it coming or it happens without any type of warning he can panic or get violent, as it reminds him of how Draxum would use his vines to grab Donnie and haul him around or shove him away.

Splinter never told Mikey or Leo as they were pretty young, but when Raph turned 13–on the anniversary of their mutation day, Splinter tells Raph the full story behind their mutation, and he sadly recalls how he failed to save another turtle during their escape. It makes for a pretty somber mutation day, but from then on Raph will sometimes add a third figure when he’s imagining playing with his other two brothers, and when he’s a bit older and April gets him a book on turtles from the library, he pauses on the page about soft-shell turtles and reads some of the facts just to have that bit of knowledge tucked away.

The topic is only ever mentioned again in passing, during one of Splinter’s tentative talks with Leo and well…

Three is fluent in Yokai, Turtle (chirps and clicks and hisses, because I absolutely love this trope in fics), and will eventually learn ASL (from Leo).

Leo knows Japanese, ASL, enough Chinese to get by, and Spanish

Raph knows a bit of Japanese that Splinter taught him, and some French from April.

Mikey also knows Yokai, and is a master at reading body language.

Trying to keep things a little vague and not to spoil too much but Draxum does notice when Three disappears. He’s not happy that he’s gone, but is more pissed that all his test subjects have found their way to Lou Jitsu and are now actively working against him as a team.

I think tea is one of the very few things that Splinter has managed to find from a decent source—maybe not AS nice as what Saki could pull, but still nothing to scoff at. Probably one of the few times that Leo is comfortable sitting silently, alone with Splinter, is when they share a pot of tea. As they grow more comfortable, the silence gets filled more easily and it becomes their own bonding time.

@organisedchaosstuff

They’d probably panic the first time it happens. Donnie and Mikey would be completely lost on what to do, and Leo, who usually takes charge pretty fast would be so shocked from seeing the destruction, and be so worried about hurting Raph that he wouldn’t be able to think of a plan on the fly like usual. Mikey would probably be the first one to act, and chain Raph up with his nunchaku. Leo would try to reason with Raph, not really understanding that his big bro isn’t really hearing him, and probably get one or two fists in the face before his instincts override his worry about hurting Raph. Donnie would be in full on panic mode, and his brain would be stuck in a loop trying to figure out what in the world caused Raph to fall into such a state—only being pulled out of his thoughts when Leo orders him to tranq Raph.

After that first rough time, they get some answers from Raph and April on how to handle it better if it ever happens again, and the next time they’re able to pull Raph out of Savage mode with a little more finesse and a lot less panic.

#separated au #ask slushie #rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt separated au #rise of the tmnt #sep!au infodump

[twisted-wonderland-shenanigans]

how do you think the monster boys would react to some of the funnier/more endearing things humans do?

example:

- sometimes we say "ow" before we even register the fact of any collision, even if we ourselves cant get hurt at all in the interaction, ex. hitting a wooden spoon super hard against a stove.

- many people like to make "nests", or just piles of blankets and pillows, and hide in them. sometimes they'll become "blanket monsters", where they'll quickly grab things like snacks, small toys, and even other people and animals and drag them under the blanket. this is especially prominent during times of general discomfort, such as sickness or menstruation, although anyone can do this just for fun. (watches as grim gets dragged into the blanket void by yuu)

- comfort foods. we have them, and we specifically save them for later when we need said comfort. even unorthodox things like extremely spicy food or poorly cooked meals can be comforting if they have sentimental value

- we will listen to sounds we hear over and over, and occasionally mimic them to the point of annoying ourselves

- we will find almost anything "cute" and either will try to pet it (whether it attacks us or not), or if we know it will, we'll sit in misery. most animals do like our scritches though.

Cater's Magicam page is going to go viral with all the cute endearing qualities. Were it not for Riddle and Trey, he'd have his phone out 24/7 just to capture these moments much like how we try to get ready to capture a photo of a rare bird or the elusive "blep" of a kitty or "blop" of a dog 😂

That being said, Yuu (and mini!Yuu) are going to be endeared to these monsters, even if some of their behavior seems a little odd to them. Hey, even we get baffled by the behavior of our own pets and other animals, why wouldn't they be baffled by us? (Despite being baffled by our own species as we are) 😂

Anytime the boys hear Yuu/mini!Yuu yelp in pain or even say "ow" they're immediately poking their head in to check on them. Unless Yuu is naturally clumsy and this is common for them to see, the boys will automatically begin to worry and fuss or have the first aid kit ready to use--after all, they can't afford to have their reputation (much less the school's) be tarnished for not caring about what is literally the last human in Twisted Wonderland's existence! And of course they grow to care about the weird human, but you won't hear most of them say it aloud. And then there's the resiliency of a tiny toddler like mini!Yuu.

Mini!Yuu: *-running and giggling before tripping and falling to the ground, getting up seconds later to continue running without a second thought-*

Ace: "Whoa! Yuu, are you okay?"

Deuce: "Oh no, your knee!"

Mini!Yuu: *-stops and looks down, seeing the scrape on their knee and realizing it stings before tearing up and wailing-* "Waaaah!"

Crewel: *-in the distance-* "Who made the puppy cry?!"

(Don't worry, mini!Yuu was fine when mama Vil put a bandaid on, Trey gave them a cookie to cheer them up, and Crewel let them snuggle his pelt. All is right with the world!)

The blanket one...pfft, I can imagine that Grim is oftentimes the main one who gets dragged into the blanket monster for cuddles due to his size. XD I think it becomes a sort of game for the boys to place snacks and other fun or silly things near the opening to see Yuu grab and drag them under the blanket, and their reward is often nicknamed "Blanket Monster Snuggles" when Yuu rises up with the blanket still wrapped around them and covering the closest monster.

Needless to say that Yuu could be very clingy and refuse to let go, yet these boys wouldn't mind in the slightest once they got used to it. More often than not if Yuu falls asleep while hugging them under the blanket, they'll wake up either in one of the other respective dorms of their friends or in yet another first year cuddle pile. Imagine Riddle's surprise and confusion on seeing Deuce almost completely draped in a blanket like a cape or cloak and only realizing that the strange lump on his back is actually Yuu fast asleep! 😂

When it comes to comfort food, no matter if it's a favorite main course or a favorite thing you want to save for last on your plate or even just a snack you hoard away, the guys might think it's a hibernation thing since some monsters do that. But nope, we just want to save specific ones we love for later/last/comfort days.

Also, picture this:

Ace: "Uh, Yuu? Why are you separating the blue candy from the rest?"

Yuu: "I'm saving them for last." *-pours another handful and sorts through them, separating the blue pieces before devouring the rest-* "The blue ones taste the best."

Ace: "Huh? But...they all taste like chocolate. The only difference is the color."

Yuu: "The blue ones taste the best to me."

Ace: "...is this another weird human thing?"

Yes Ace, it is indeed another "Humans are Weird and Adorable" moment. 🤣

I did actually briefly mention the "mimicking sounds to the point of annoying ourselves" in one of Cater's Magicam posts here!

As for the petting cute things we consider cute or sulking if we can't...

During chapter three when they meet the tweels and see them in their real forms:

Yuu: *-gasp-* "Sea puppies!!! So cute!!!"

Ace and the others: "Eh?!"

Jade: "Oya? You think we are...cute?"

Floyd: "Neh, aren't you scared of us, lil' Shrimpy?"

Yuu: "How can I when you look so cute?! Can I pet your ear fins??"

Ace/Deuce/Jack/Grim: "NO!!!!"

Or in chapter 2 when meeting Leona:

Leona: "What are you looking at, herbivore?"

Yuu: *-visibly looking dismayed and pouting-* "It's not fair..."

Leona: "Oh? And what's not fair...?"

Yuu: "You all look so cute and I'm sad because I can't pet any of you! TT^TT"

Savanaclaw (and Heartslabyul): "Cute?!"

Cater: "Yuu...never have I ever heard anyone ever call Savanaclaw 'cute'. Smh..."

Aaaand...that's all I can think of off the top of my head at the moment! Hope you guys enjoyed the silliness and reminder that humans can be adorable~! >v<

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland monster au #twst monster au #twisted wonderland yuu #twst yuu #cater diamond monster magicam

[alexxncl]

‼️NIGHTBRINGER HDD CH. 4 SPOILERS‼️

masterlist | events | ch. 3

do we really not get to kiss them ??? not even during hdd???

...i'm in here complaining like i'm not a lesbian but MY POINT STILL STANDS ‼️

ofc asmo has something with "aphrodisiac" in the name. like what if it was actually an aphrodisiac ???

ik he wouldn't do anything like that against mc's will but however, in the instance that it was consensual, would your nails even dry fast enough before the shit started to kick in ?? like what if you're too horny to function before the polish dries ??? then what

imagine being such a bad cook that you fuck up sandwiches. LUNCH. MEAT. SANDWICHES. are you not embarrassed?

also how is mc getting from place to place to place so fast ??? teleportation ???? bc in the og timeline it kinda makes sense, though i feel like they'd be more tired than they are rn. in nb though? it makes no sense at all considering the fact that their powers are consistently weakening. which makes me think that this is either the og timeline or some undisclosed au

uncontrollably sobs. curls up into a ball and dies. implodes into a black hole.

i love sappy sentimental satan I LOVE CHARACTER GROWTH. the thing is, this can be said about the satan from either timeline. nb satan was more mentally and emotionally unstable, but that doesn't mean satan from the og timeline(s) didn't feel just as isolated as this satan did, if not even more so

imagine still not feeling like you belong after living with your "brothers" for millenia? having to act like you're ok and fine with constant isolation and ostracization from the people you want to love, the people which want to love you, but being unable to find common ground and pushing each other away even more than before

THEN SAY I LOVE YOU BACK 😐 i hate this man but i also love him but i also hate him but i also. more on this here bc i rambled too much

i couldn't NOT add my man like c'mon

maybe he clings to them so much because he knows they won't judge him offhandedly like his brothers do? bc they won't assume the worst of him at first glance? idk i feel like, other than the obvious reasons, there's more behind why he busts into mc's room unannounced all the time. being alone with self-deprecating thoughts is hard, and having someone else to fill the silence and the negative space with something positive does help

or maybe i'm reading too far into this and being biased bc thats my man

even if the throne wasn't based around bloodline, unless they become immortal, they wouldn't be able to be next in line anyways 😭 mc is nawt passing those trials diavolo went through either. no ma'am

the king's crucible ?? is that what it was called ???

honestly i can't lie, mc being the center of the world bc they're the center of the boys' world is cute. corny, but cute

damn they're that sexy ??? bringing everyone who meets them to their knees

minus luke obv

i wanna meet michael...i'm tryna see sum

and bring god and the demon king down while you're at it too...🫣

#obey me #obey me nightbringer #obey me spoilers #nightbringer spoilers #obey me nightbringer spoilers #obey me hdd 2024 #happy devil day 2024 #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me levi #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me asmodeus #obey me barbatos #obey me solomon #obey me mc #satan obey me #barbatos obey me #obey me michael #obey me diavolo

[keto-keyes]

The Misfit Gang (Slytherin Gang ff)

This is a OC insert imagine, with multiple parts. If you don’t want to use the name ive chosen, feel free to insert your own :)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Part 6

With Tom at the lead, everyone else circling Soren, and Mattheo at the back, the group travelled like a pack of wolves and made their way to Snape's office. That would be the teachers' most-likely meeting point if they were going to take down the troll. As they walked, Tom berated them for 'choosing to do something so stupidly irresponsible' even thought it had been his idea in the first place, but no-one contradicted him. He was the most capable with magic of the six of them and the best dueller, having come from a strong dark wizarding family, and therefore also the natural leader it seemed. To Soren, at least. 

They continued to walk for a few minutes in silence until they reached the office, where the teachers were indeed meeting. Tom, taking initiative, knocked on the door and informed the closest professor, Professor Sprout, of their situation. 

"I see..." Snape mused, "So you all decided to warn us about a girl nowhere near the troll who has no idea it exists?" 

"Yes, sir," Tom muttered, looking down, "De Ville was worried it might move while the students were evacuated. Due to the noise, of course." 

Soren's head shot up - she'd been looking at the floor in embarrassment - and she stared at Tom in shock. She hadn't even thought about the troll moving, that was all him. What shocked her the most was what Mattheo said next. 

"We saw them hanging back from the group and decided it was best to tell you, just in case you didn't know about it," he said, "There might also be two others who stayed behind, two Gryffindors. We think they might be in trouble, even if there is three of them." 

Snape nodded in contemplation, then looked up at McGonagall. They exchanged glances and McGonagall looked away, somewhat annoyed and angered. 

"We'll go there before finding the troll," he decided, "Five points to Slytherin for each of you, but if any of you tries to pull something like this again it'll be ten taken from each of you." 

"Hopefully the girl can explain herself, and the other two. I have my suspicions as to who they are, but nothing we should discuss here," McGonagall added, waving her hands to dismiss the Slytherin first years. 

The six youngsters rushed back to the Ravenclaw common room without even a thanks.

Even though they'd probably saved the idiot girl's life, It was possible that the other two dimwads would gain more points for Gryffindor than the Slytherin's had for their own good, selfless act, because ✨favouritism✨.

Soren didn't bother lending any more thoughts to the three in the bathroom, although the others definitely did, and she could hear them muttering under their breaths, she only thought about how both Riddle brothers had decided to back her up instead of tearing her down like they did to everyone else. She didn't really understand why they would do that, but the idea that they didn't completely hate her warmed her cheeks and kept her going, even up several flights of stairs towards uncommon ground.  

After a few dozen flights of 16-18 stairs each, Soren began to fall back towards the tail-end of their little huddle. They'd been running  for almost 20 minutes without break and she was not as athletic-ly capable as her male classmates. Mattheo, who was right behind her, noticed her falling behind little by little, and called out to get the rest to stop. 

"We need a break," he panted, putting on an act even though he wasn't remotely tired yet, "I'm sure we can walk the rest of the way, can't we?" 

Tom looked pissed, but then noticed Soren bent over panting and trying to catch her breath and immediately nodded. Mattheo, too, seemed to notice her struggling more, and the two walked a little slower than their friends. 

Everyone turned to stare at them when they finally got to the Ravenclaw common room, Slytherins and Ravenclaws alike. The blue-clad house was well-respected for it's wise and understanding students, who simply stared without saying anything, but the self-righteous Slytherins jeered and laughed at their tardy first years. Tom, Theo and Mattheo managed to hold off the downright abusive ones who tried to latch onto Soren just to make fun of her, but even their deadliest glares didn't stop the incessant staring. It was obvious there was something different about her, something most Slytherins cast out as weak. And that was what made her their primary target whenever there was some bullying to do, even after the troll debacle. That's why, even though they too were cruel and horrible bullies to others, Soren made friends out of Tom and Mattheo Riddle. 

#lorenzo berkshire #tom riddle #theodore nott #tom riddle x reader #theodore nott x reader #slytherin boys #blaise x reader #pansy parkinson #harry potter #draco malfoy #mattheoxreader #mattheo riddle

[random-mizu-fan]

Hi hello so I just wanna share my little Fowzu (Fowler x Mizu) headcanons/scenarios. Some of which are inspired by @mikasa-stan!! Or her ideas completely!

PS: If you can't stand Fowzu, DNI or block me. And move on with your life and have a nice day.

- We know Fowler finds painting and every other art useless but he finds it to be not so useless anymore when he paints Mizu. It makes it somehow a bit more enjoyable but he still doesn't really like it.

- Mizu and Fowler sparring to the point where they alway almost kill each other. It always ends up with them having the other pinned to the ground while staring and glaring at each other intensely, Mizu with hatred and Fowler taunting her with a mix of sexual tension

- Realistically Mizu would be speaking Japanese while she's in London since she doesn't know English so Fowler is her translator and whenever people talk to Fowler, she's always asking him what's up.

~~~~~~~

"What were you talking about?" Mizu asks, curious. "Just some business."

"What business?"

Fowler shrugs with disinterest, it was just some boring old small talk and some business he already knew that he was uninterested in.

"Tell me."

"It was just the usual, boring old small talk. Nothing too much to worry about little miss."

"Whatever business or small talk you have, is my business as well. So you must tell me."

-----

Fowler continues to talk to the nobles, still in English. Until the noble woman's tone changes into a worried desperate tone. That's when Mizu shot Fowler a look, trying to ask him what was up using her facial expression but Fowler doesn't seem to notice and continues to talk. Mizu then decides to stay quiet. But the curiosity gets her. That's when she decided to step on Fowler's foot gently.

"Ah, sorry. Yes pretty eyes?"

~~~~~~~~~

- Fowler sharing his gun designs and sketches with Mizu

- Mizu sharing some poetry with Fowler and they talk about Japanese literature.

- Fowler showing Mizu the gesture of Western people (men) kissing women's hands.

~~~~~~~~

"Your hand."

Mizu raise a brow. "What about my hand?"

"Give me your hand."

"Why?"

"There's a common gesture here that you should know."

"A common gesture..?"

"Like how in Japan you Japanese bow to show respect."

"Ah.."

Mizu brings her hand out and much to her surprise, Fowler takes it, kissing it. She draws back, a look of disgust on her face. It made the Irish man laugh. "Is this supposed to be a joke?" she wipes her hand, pissed off.

"No. No it's not. Men kiss the ladies' hands here, a common gesture when meeting or before a dance."

~~~~~~~

- Fowler and Mizu pretending they are dating as a cover up when they're in London

"Who's she?"

"Ah, this is Mizu. My.." Fowler clicks his tongue, mischief in his eyes.

"My lover. I met her at my stay in Japan."

Mizu only stands there, with a serious face as she was unable to understand anything.

"Ain't that right Mizu?"

Mizu raises a brow, she didn't understand what he said and was still a bit wary. Fowler laughs. "She doesn't understand English so she's a bit shy." Fowler smirks before he turns to Mizu and says in Japanese; "They're asking if you would like to go the gun museum."

Mizu nods.

"Yes, she has such pretty eyes." Mizu only stays quiet, keeping her serious face thinking about her revenge.

"Oh? Are you planning to marry her?"

Fowler only laughs as the others took a glance at Mizu, which looked weird to her. She was starting to get confused of what's going on. "Hey, what is happening? Why are they looking at us like that?" she asks in Japanese.

"Oh, little miss.. " Fowler said as he laid a hand on her waist and pulled her against him. He was now speaking in Japanese. Mizu glares at him in disbelief of his actions. "If you want to fit in, then play along. Don't blow your cover." He whispers before he laughs.

"She's not used to public display of affection."

~~~~~~~~

- Mizu accidentally cutting off Fowler's hair when they spar.

- (smeggsy HC) Imagine Fowler is too rough and Mizu is like;

"Slow down." She gasps, almost moaning but the man ignores. Grunting as he nestles deeper with a powerful thrust. This makes Mizu let out a high pitched moan, it feels good but she tries to shoot the man a glare. She grabs a fistful of Fowler's hair, groaning.

"I said. Slow. Down."

#blue eye samurai #mizu blue eye samurai #blue eye samurai mizu #bes mizu #abijah fowler

[atopvisenyashill]

dany and rhaenyra really couldn't be more different considering dany grew up in abject poverty and rhaenyra was constantly shielded by her status and name. for dany, her name was a death sentence, so they exist in totally different frameworks of what being a “targaryen” even means. it’s this vast difference in upbringing that informs how they rule as well with daenerys giving a lot of attention to how her actions/rule affect the oppressed while rhaenyra doesn’t particularly care about the common people at all!

I'm gonna do what we do at work which is start this out with a lil ground rules corporate talk thing: We assume positive intent as a starting place. I'm taking this in good faith and I hope if anon sees this, they take it the same.

So the first point - that because dany grows up in poverty due to being a targaryen and rhaenyra grows up in privilege due to being a targaryen, that means they are too different and thus can't be compared. Firstly, I think it's just a bit silly when people say stuff like this. Sansa's sexual abuse and isolation at KL isn't somehow less traumatizing simply because she had access to food (food she frequently doesn't eat, because she's traumatized over all the sexual abuse!) nor is Arya's physical abuse in the Riverlands somehow less purely because she had a handful of friends. Catelyn having a husband that loves and respects her doesn't mean that there are not similarities in her raging against the system that has turned on her with Cersei's own rage against the system. There need not be a one to one similarity in order for us to find commonalities in themes and I think this constant "you can't compare those two" just stinks of ~oppression olympics~ but oppression just doesn't work like a checklist and if you experience the required threshold of terror, you "get" to call yourself oppressed in some way.

Moving on, the thing is, both of them experience the emotional and sexual incestuous grooming from an older relative that goes with being a Targaryen:

He pushed back her shoulders with his hands. “Let them see that you have a woman’s shape now.” His fingers brushed lightly over her budding breasts and tightened on a nipple. “You will not fail me tonight. If you do, it will go hard for you. You don’t want to wake the dragon, do you?” His fingers twisted her, the pinch cruelly hard through the rough fabric of her tunic. “Do you?” he repeated.

Daemon spent long hours in her company, enthralling her with tales of his journeys and battles. He gave her pearls and silks and books and a jade tiara said once to have belonged to the Empress of Leng, read poems to her, dined with her, hawked with her, sailed with her, entertained her by making mock of the greens at court, the “lickspittles” fawning over Queen Alicent and her children. He praised her beauty, declaring her to be the fairest maid in all the Seven Kingdoms. Uncle and niece began to fly together almost daily, racing Syrax against Caraxes to Dragonstone and back...Eustace, the less salacious of the two, writes that Prince Daemon seduced his niece the princess and claimed her maidenhood...The whole tale soon came out, in no small part thanks to Mushroom himself. King Viserys at first refused to believe a word of it, until Prince Daemon confirmed the tale was true. “Give the girl to me to wife,” he purportedly told his brother. “Who else would take her now?”

both of them also experience a much older sworn sword preying on their youth and fondness for him-

"What did she look like, your Lady Lynesse?" Ser Jorah smiled sadly. "Why, she looked a bit like you, Daenerys." He bowed low. "Sleep well, my queen." Dany shivered, and pulled the lionskin tight about her. She looked like me. It explained much that she had not truly understood. He wants me, she realized. He loves me as he loved her, not as a knight loves his queen but as a man loves a woman. She tried to imagine herself in Ser Jorah's arms, kissing him, pleasuring him, letting him enter her. It was no good. When she closed her eyes, his face kept changing into Drogo's.

Though many lords and knights sought her favor, the princess had eyes only for Ser Criston Cole, the young champion of the Kingsguard and her constant companion. “Ser Criston protects the princess from her enemies, but who protects the princess from Ser Criston?” Queen Alicent asked one day at court... However it happened, whether the princess scorned the knight or he her, from that day forward the love that Ser Criston Cole had formerly borne for Rhaenyra Targaryen turned to loathing and disdain, and the man who had hitherto been the princess’s constant companion and champion became the most bitter of her foes.

they are both forced into marriages they don’t want to be in-

Dany looked at Khal Drogo. His face was hard and cruel, his eyes as cold and dark as onyx. Her brother hurt her sometimes, when she woke the dragon, but he did not frighten her the way this man frightened her. “I don’t want to be his queen,” she heard herself say in a small, thin voice. “Please, please, Viserys, I don’t want to, I want to go home.”

"No." On her terrace, in her bathing pool, the little fish would nibble at her legs as she soaked. Even they kissed with more fervor than Hizdahr zo Loraq. "I do not love you."

And though His Grace reasoned with her, pleaded with her, shouted at her, and called her an ungrateful daughter, no words of his could budge her…until the king brought up the question of succession. What a king had done, a king could undo, Viserys pointed out. She would wed as he commanded, or he would make her half-brother Aegon his heir in place of her. At this the princess’s will gave way. Septon Eustace says she fell at her father’s knees and begged for his forgiveness, Mushroom that she spat in her father’s face, but both agree that in the end she consented to be married.

and start conflating violence, power, and safety in their minds-

The princess was not slow in answering this charge. She dispatched Prince Daemon to seize Ser Vaemond, had his head removed, and fed his carcass to her dragon, Syrax.

“He would make a monster of me,” she whispered, “a butcher queen.” But then she thought of Drogon far away, and the dragons in the pit. There is blood on my hands too, and on my heart. We are not so different, Daario and I. We are both monsters.

you say for dany her name is a death sentence, but for rhaenyra, being a targaryen is also a death sentence! not to "they very much killed jesus" you here, but they very much kill rhaenyra! if rhaenyra remains a “good targaryen” she is acutely aware she will lose everything, and this is something dany is aware of as well, it's why she reacts so badly to daario's "queens have no purpose but to warm some king’s bed and pop out sons for him" comment about her marriage to Hizdahr. rhaenyra's mother and both grandmothers die before they’re 25 of childbirth. rhaenyra grew up in the same court gael did, that saera did, that viserra did, likely knew the truth of what happened to each girl, and as a woman who is concealing her bastards, all of that has to terrify her. so she stays the “bad woman” the tyrant, the whore, the visenya, in an attempt to protect her children and that gets her killed. being a targaryen has devastating effects on both of them.

as for the differences in how they rule - i’m gonna be honest and say does it matter how they feel if the result is the same?

when they first come into true power, both women are more concerned with getting revenge than they are for settling the unrest-

“How many?” one old woman had asked, sobbing. “How many must you have to spare us?” “One hundred and sixty-three,” she answered. She had them nailed to wooden posts around the plaza, each man pointing at the next. The anger was fierce and hot inside her when she gave the command; it made her feel like an avenging dragon.

...whilst at the Red Keep Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen set about rewarding her friends and inflicting savage punishments on those who had served her half-brother...Henceforth, Celtigar decreed, traitors, rebels, and murderers would be beheaded within the Dragonpit, and their corpses fed to the queen’s dragons. All were welcome to bear witness to the fate that awaited evil men, but each must pay three pennies at the gates to be admitted.

both of them compromise on a stance that is integral to their whole platform-

Dany was shocked. “They want to be slaves?” “The ones who come are well spoken and gently born, sweet queen. Such slaves are prized. In the Free Cities they will be tutors, scribes, bed slaves, even healers and priests. They will sleep in soft beds, eat rich foods, and dwell in manses. Here they have lost all, and live in fear and squalor.” “I see.” Perhaps it was not so shocking, if these tales of Astapor were true. Dany thought a moment. “Any man who wishes to sell himself into slavery may do so. Or woman.” She raised a hand. “But they may not sell their children, nor a man his wife.” “In Astapor the city took a tenth part of the price, each time a slave changed hands,” Missandei told her. “We’ll do the same,” Dany decided. Wars were won with gold as much as swords. “A tenth part. In gold or silver coin, or ivory. Meereen has no need of saffron, cloves, or zorse hides.”

But the Queen’s Hand argued against this, for both girls had younger brothers. Rhaenyra’s own claim to the Iron Throne was a special case, the Sea Snake insisted; her father had named her as his heir. Lords Rosby and Stokeworth had done no such thing. Disinheriting their sons in favor of their daughters would overturn centuries of law and precedent, and call into question the rights of scores of other lords throughout Westeros whose own claims might be seen as inferior to those of elder sisters. It was fear of losing the support of such lords, Munkun asserts in True Telling, that led the queen to decide in favor of Lord Corlys rather than Prince Daemon.

both of them act vindictively and violently towards a low born woman in conjunction with stupid behavior from the violent men they’ve been groomed into loving-

Forgive me, sun of my life, she thought. Forgive me for all I have done and all I must do. I paid the price, my star, but it was too high, too high… “I thank you, Mirri Maz Duur,” she said, “for the lessons you have taught me.” “You will not hear me scream,” Mirri responded as the oil dripped from her hair and soaked her clothing. “I will,” Dany said, “but it is not your screams I want, only your life. I remember what you told me. Only death can pay for life.”

In a voice as cold as ice, she commanded Ser Luthor Largent to take twenty gold cloaks to the Dragonpit and arrest Ser Addam Velaryon. “Question him sharply, and we will learn if he is true or false, beyond a doubt.” As to the girl Nettles, “She is a common thing, with the stink of sorcery upon her,” the queen declared. “My prince would ne’er lay with such a low creature. You need only look at her to know she has no drop of dragon’s blood in her. It was with spells that she bound a dragon to her, and she has done the same with my lord husband.”

and I do think there is some similarity in the way that Dany sacks Astapor and it turns into a nightmareish ruin, and Rhaenyra lets KL fall into ruin as well.

you say rhaenyra doesn’t care about the common people but we don’t get her thoughts nor do we get the thoughts of a single person who is willing to tell the truth about her. both of our reliable sources hate her and mushroom is actively concealing things. we know dany cares about the smallfolk because we get her horror over drogon killing a child - only for her to forget that child’s name and decide the cost of her war doesn’t matter so much as taking her throne. this is the exact same moral justification rhaenyra is making - the safety of the people of KL are an acceptable compromise for her own throne.

what both of them want is less about the crown and more about what it represents to them. for dany, it’s home, belonging, love, safety, the simplicity of her life when it was just her, a viserys who had yet to lose his mind, and an aging ser willem darry. for rhaenyra, it’s the exact same - the simplicity of her life before aegon was born & her mother died, the love in her father choosing her over the men around him, the safety of her children. Both of them reach for violence to achieve those ends because they’ve been taught through a life of violence - albeit different sorts of violence - that force is the only way to protect yourself. And since Rhaenyra ultimately fails in her goal, I believe Daenerys will fail as well. Whether she’s smart enough to pull a Nettles and disappear (disappear not spread more violence ~liberating~ places that are not asking for her help or cultural arrogance) or if she, like Rhaenyra, will find that when she’s reached her limit, when she’s finally and truly lost, the door she thought she left open to escape through has been slammed shut behind her-

But it was not the plains Dany saw then. It was King's Landing and the great Red Keep that Aegon the Conqueror had built. It was Dragonstone where she had been born. In her mind's eye they burned with a thousand lights, a fire blazing in every window. In her mind's eye, all the doors were red.

#also i am being serious thanks for not being an asshole or talking down to me anon i appreciate it. we can disagree without being jerks! #anti daenerys targaryen #anti rhaenyra targaryen #asks #anons #rani attempts meta #also i’m tagging this with anti tags but if anyone starts shitting on either of them in the notes i’m deleting your comment #once again i’m not talking about bs fandom wars i’m talking about The Themes & the way violence shapes & breaks these two women. #so if people are tacky i will be upset. like if people started joking about cersei or alicent's rape. i'm talking about a sad thing here #trust i am not being facetious or saying i think they're evil. they're set up to fail but they both prove that in failing #they are in fact the dragon's heir. capable of everything the men around them are. whether those men like it or not.

[hybbart]

In the music taste post you said

“I think the only think they disagree on is probably metal and such that has harsh noises, cause Jimmy can't mimic it without hurting his throat and it's a bit too much for his ears. Tango isn't a big fan of musical tracks either probably.” Does that mean Jimmy is a musical enjoyer? If so what shows or kind of shows does he like (aside from Mamma Mia)?

(Also, I apologize about the ask on your other account, I got mixed up and meant to ask it on this page. Ill make sure to ask on only this page unless you would rather me ask on the other page)

I dunno about atually going to the theatre very much since he lived out in the middle of nowhere and doesn't have the attention span for it, but in all universes Jimmy loves singing and karaoke to me (even if not very good at it) so musicals are a given for birbs.

Probably a lot of more big popular movies like classic disney musicals, footloose and grease, hairsprat for sure, little shop of horrors, maybe moulin rouge and coyote ugly? Also I feel like at some point he watched the cats movie with his friends and they dragged him to see the "good real show" and he still didn't get it but he remembers some of the songs. I think the only musical he's seen of his own volition is pirates of penzance and I think he probably knows wicked only from a soundtrack recording.

He likes mostly silly happy sounding ones, so I don't think he would like sruff like les miserables, phantom of the opera, or the dolls of new albion (though I doubt he would know that last one, he's very much a more mainstream sorta guy) and doesn't know any musical adaptations of movies like legally blonde and such. He mighta heard one or two of them from Lizzie but probably not. I also doubt he's heard very many foreign musicals so not any bollywood musicals or film red.

I'm going to give him the chipmunk movies and cds, not because I think it's something he would like but because I think Jimmy Solidarity trying to sing chipmunk songs would possibly be THE most painful sound imaginable that would test even Tango's patience.

I think Tango probably knows a lot of phineas and ferb songs and thats probably their one common ground, though Tango would probably never in a million years be able to find the tracks for it to play for Jimmy. Musicals singing is probably something Jimmy does more with his siblings and Pearl, and doesn't force Tango to listen to too many unless theyre having a karaoke night. There probably are some musicals Tango would loke if he heard them but I don't think theyre ones that Jimmy knows or likes, and I doubt Tango is willing to take a shot with them when he knows he doesn't care for them usually.

#raau ask