Hellooooo ^^ If you're still taking drawing prompts, how about Alyra Mahariel with Morrigan and a pose of your choice?

(Have a lovely day!!!!!)

Hello there! Yes, I was! :3 Here you go, it's A2, but we started with angst and we'll end up in angst (sorry):

There lies my passion, hidden There lies my love I'll hide it under a blanket Lull it to sleep

(I remembered now the song by Bjork I was looking today for the 9 ship songs. I'll correct that post too, but it's Hidden Place.)

Some Witch Hunt scene, I'm planning a bigger illustration. So, basically, we're about to part. Morrigan through the mirror, Alyra... Alyra stays. One year before she would have jumped, now... Now she's the Warden-Commander and the Arlessa. She can't. *angst*

Underground ~ JJK [M] [Request]

➳➳➳Word count: 2.9K

➳➳➳Pairing: King!Jungkook x Concubine!Reader

➳➳➳Genre: Floffy, angst (tiny bit) and SMUT

➳➳➳A/n: Hope this is okay for you my love

➳➳➳Concubine meaning:  a woman who lives with a man but has lower status than his wife or wives (also known as a mistress)

People didn't like the fact that you were what you were to the King, you could tell by the looks on their face as you walked around the streets of the Kingdom of Zenith, but it was normal for many King's to have Concubines, while other King's had multiple Concubine's but King Jungkook had just the one and that was you. That was his choice though he didn't want many women he just wanted you and his soon-to-be wife.

"Do you see the way she walks? As if she’s better than us," Someone asked as you walked past their stall, you were used to the whispers by now but it didn't make it any easier, hearing the rumours about you.

"What is she even doing here?" Another voice rang out a little louder than the first, you kept your head down as you walked over towards your old home to visit your mum. Not that she ever spoke to you, she was ashamed of what you had become but it didn't stop you going to visit her every weekend. 

"Hi Umma," You greeted as you walked into the Hanok that you used to live in, she looked up from her breakfast took once glance at you before going back to her meal. This was the normal exchange you would have with her, 

"She'll come around," Your sister whispered but it wasn't true, she wouldn't. 

"I brought fresh strawberries from the farm." You placed the basket down and your sister watched you with a close eye as you reached out for them and began eating one of the strawberries with a small smile on your face, sighing to yourself as you watched your mum eating her breakfast, once you felt your sister's close stare you stared back at her and she smirked to herself. 

"Come with me," You followed her out of the Hanok with a strawberry hanging out of your mouth, out into the garden where she walked you over to the swing on your tree, somewhere you would go a lot to talk to one another a lot as children.

"How long?" You frowned at her and she sighed sitting in front of the swing and staring up at you, there was no denying it she watched as you swallowed the strawberry you had been munching on. You didn't even know, did you? 

"The smile of content, sighing because you're happy and that natural flush." She squealed happily and you had no idea what she was doing, 

"We have to take you to Halmeoni," She was excited about something so you nodded along with it, you hadn't seen her this happy in months and it felt nice to watch her smile. 

"Take me then," 

You beyond thrilled and couldn't wait to get back to the castle to tell Jungkook the good news, it was hard to determine at first but once your Grandmother did all the tricks she knew it became clearer and clearer with every second, you were pregnant and carrying a set of twins.

"You're sure?" You asked as your grandmother held a pin on a string above your stomach, she closed her eyes and began chanting away to herself when the Pin began to move on its own, a clear sign of pregnancy. Then she went out to fetch eggs from one chicken, bringing back two eggs which meant twins. It was an old technique she'd used when your mother was pregnant with you and your sisters and it was foolproof. 

The guards watched as you walked in the direction of the throne room ready to tell Jungkook the news when you heard yelling coming from inside the great hall. Your interest was piqued so you walked closer to the door and listened in to the conversation if you were anybody else this action would but punishable by death.

"I want to proceed with the wedding," You heard Jungkook say to his father across the room, Jungkook had been lined up to marry a Princess from another Kingdom to expand the Kingdom of Zenith and bring more protection for it and you knew this of course, but you'd never thought Jungkook would go through with the wedding. He was always telling you about how much he didn't want to marry someone that wasn't you, that it felt morally wrong to marry anyone else but you. You held your hand over your stomach trying not to think about it too much, stressing was bad for pregnancies you knew that much. 

"How soon shall we have it?" You heard his father question, the next question made your heart sink as Jungkook answered him with full excitement and you could tell he had a smile across his face. 

"Next weekend." You slowly backed away from the door not wanting to hear anymore and took off in a sprint towards your chambers. 

You had special chambers since you were the King's concubine, it meant your own giant bed, being served by maids in the castle and other staff at your beck and call. 

"Miss?!" You slammed the door before your personal made could question why you were crying, it felt harsh to treat her this way but you couldn't risk anyone seeing you cry over the King. It just simply wasn't done. 

"Miss, King Jungkook wanted us to tell you he wishes to see you right away. He knows the weekends are for your family-"

"Tell him I'm still out," You spat out rushing into the bathroom and staring at yourself in the mirror, you looked down at the expensive gown you were wearing, then at the jewellery which was custom made for you and you tore them from around your neck and ears. Throwing them into the golden bathtub before screaming about not being able to take off the dress. The same maid from before rushed into the room with her ladies in training, 

"Leave us." She clapped her hands and the two minions left the room, standing in front of the giant chamber doors to stop anyone else from entering. You were sobbing into your hands while the maid quietly undid your corset, not daring to speak a word to you as she knew it was against the rules, 

"Thank you, Cruella," You sniffled and she handed you a handkerchief turning you around to face her,

"The king isn't worth those tears." She whispered wiping your face and looking at you, she'd always been the nicest one in the castle to you and you always assumed it was because it was her job but no one else made this kind of effort. 

"He's marrying her," She sighed and stripped you from the gown throwing it into the bathtub as you had done with the rest of the items he'd gotten you, 

"You knew it would be coming through." She ushered you into your room and retrieved you another ball gown which you shook your head at. 

"Can you fetch me some rags instead, and a bag." 

Cruella had watched you the entire time you packed up old clothes into a bag, leaving no note or clue as to where you were going but leaving out of the palace in the middle of the night with her. Dressed as one of the other many chambermaids, 

"What do I do when he asks for you tomorrow?" She asked once you reached the ends of the palace gardens, your heart was breaking at the thought of leaving him behind but it broke more when you thought of him marrying another. 

"Tell him I'm sick, it'll keep him away a couple of days until I have enough time to get out of the kingdom." You told her as you looked around nervously,

"You're pregnant are you?" She questioned taking in your appearance under the moonlight, you stayed silent and she made a promise to keep your secret. 

To her avail, she had managed to keep it for as long as she could but a week had passed and Jungkook had had enough of not seeing you. He barged into your room expecting to find you sitting in bed with a book but when he found nothing he was concerned, Cruella spilt her guts once he threatened her job and he instantly began setting up a manhunt to find you and his unborn children. The kingdom was searched multiple times a day and your home was ransacked in order to find you, but you were nowhere to be found. Rumours spread like wildfire about you fleeing to another Kingdom because the baby belonged to another King while other rumours started you were still in the castle but underground not wanting to be found by the king. None of them was true, of course, except for the underground part. You were underground but not under the castle, you were under your mothers old Hanok being looked after by her whenever the searches were completed. The king's guards were idiots and never thought to check an old well with a fake bottom which led to you. 

"Umma, I have to leave soon." The night you left the castle you'd gone home to say goodbye to everyone but your mother insisted on keeping you in the hidden room below the surface until searches were called, she promised it would be easy. 

"No, you're not leaving. You're with child, it's too dangerous to leave now." There was always going to be an excuse for her as to why you couldn't leave and you knew that, after the years of her not talking to you it felt nice that she was willing to put her life on the line to protect you and the babies growing inside of you. There were footsteps above the ground and she frowned, the searches had already been completed that day, 

"Wait here. Stay silent." She walked off down a hallway and to where the ladder led to getting in and out of the well you were underneath, the lid was lifted from the top and there stood three guards and Jungkook looking down at her.

"We're coming down." You sat up straight as you heard his voice through the echo's and you knew what your mother had done, 

"Umma!" You yelled getting her attention, she nodded at you and motioned for Jungkook to follow her into the room where you had been laying down. 

"Umma what are you-" Jungkook was standing in front of you dressed in his robes and smiling, the same way he looked when he picked you out before. 

"OUT!" Your mother screamed at the guards that had tried to come into the room, Jungkook flinched a little as she raised her hand to point at the seat. 

"You! Sit!" He sat down instantly and stared at you as you sat down on an opposite seat from him, 

"She's with child, what do you plan to do?" You stared at your mother as she told him the news which he already knew but you didn't know that, 

"I plan to marry her," Your eyes snapped back to him and they began to have a conversation about marriage as though you weren't in the room your head dancing from one to the other as they continued to have the discussion as though it didn't involve you in any way. 

"Excuse me- Yeah, Hi. What?" Jungkook's eyes were staring into yours as he smiled, how could he smile at you like that when less than a week ago he was planning on marrying someone else. 

"I'll marry you." You blinked at him as though he was crazy, which he was. No one married a commoner, or their concubine it just wasn't done.

"You can't-"

"I'm King, I can marry whoever I please." You looked at the floor as he raised his voice a little, 

"That was the plan before you left, running out before you knew the information." He tutted at you, your head lifted from the floor as you made eye contact with him, he had a cocky smirk across his face as he watched you try and piece together what he was saying. 

"Marry me? But you're supposed to-"

"I'm not supposed to do anything, I'm the King." You nodded at him and he got down onto one knee in front of you, 

"This isn't the way I had this planned but will you Y/n Y/l/n marry me?" Your eyes teared up as you watched him pull out a ring from one of his robe pockets and you nodded falling down onto the floor and hugging him. Your mother crying in the process and smiling at you, as much as she'd disliked you for what you had become in the Kingdom she knew real love when she saw it, and she wasn't going to let her daughter and grandchild grow up without a father figure. 

                                                  One Year Later

The kids were sound asleep for the first time in many months, they normally cried for hours on end only sleeping an hour but tonight was easy. Their first birthday had come around and they were sleeping as though they had grown out of the habit of not sleeping,

"Jungkook, shh." You said as he stepped closer to you you were sitting on the small balcony of your room looking out over the kingdom and the babies were asleep in solid gold cribs across the room in your chambers.

"Shh yourself, I've missed you." He growled rushing over to you and pulled you into a loving kiss since the babies had been born you hadn't been together intimately and it was starting to get to you both,

"You're so gorgeous." He mumbled putting his head into the crook of your neck and sucking along the skin, you held back the moan as you looked over your shoulder guards were in the courtyard below. 

"J-Jungkook guards." You warned only making him suck along the skin harder, 

"Let them watch, I want them to know how good I make you feel. Fuck it's been so long." He groaned kissing you once again, your hands reached into his black locks and you kissed him. 

"Be quiet now baby." He dropped down onto his knees and lifted the base of your dress up and over his head, you felt him pulling your panties to the side and your breath hitched as you felt his breath against your throbbing core. It had been so long since he last touched you you'd almost forgotten what it was like. His tongue ran along the length of your sex and you let out a strangled moan into your own hand, 

"What if we wake- ah shit." You moaned out throwing your head back in ecstasy as he continued to suck harder on your clit, flicking faster and inserting two fingers inside of you. 

"So tight," He hummed against you only making you clench around him as you already felt yourself beginning to get close.

"R-Right there- but what about-" He cut you off by pumping his fingers faster and curling them in just the right motion that made your legs shake, he could tell you were getting closer but he didn't want you to cum around his fingers. 

"This way." He pulled you towards the bed and laid you down, neither of you had time to strip out of your clothes in case the babies woke up so he lifted the dress up to your midsection and took his member out from his pants.

"You ready baby?" You nodded eagerly and you gasped as you felt him enter you, the stretch after not having him for so long was painful but you could deal with it. 

"Fuck." You moaned into your hand trying to be as quiet as possible, Jungkook groaned out as he tried to thrust in and out at a slow pace but the tightness was only making him want to ram into you, have you screaming out his name as the old times. 

"We'll have time for that another day-" You mumbled knowing exactly what he was thinking just by the look on his face, he focussed on trying to get you close with slow thrusts trying to push down the feeling of his own release approaching him rather quickly.

"Jungkook." He bent down to bring you into a lustful kiss, trying to keep you silent and his thrusts began to pick up pace as he felt you clenching around him, hitting your g-spot every time he had you moaning out into his mouth,

"G-Gonna cum." You whined out in a whisper trying to be as quiet as possible but you could feel the band tightening in your stomach and the sound of him moaning in your ear was only bringing you closer.

"Cum for me then," He growled in your ear picking up the pace and smirking down at you, 

"S-Shit," He grumbled as he felt you cumming around his cock, biting down on your lip so hard that blood was trickling around it, you continued to buck your hips as he thrust into you never wanting the orgasm to end.

"O-oh fuck," He moaned out as he split into you, pulling out and falling down onto the bed beside you and panting, you turned to look at him with a smirk and he shook his head at you. 

"I promise that next time-" You nodded already knowing what he was going to say, you just rolled over to lay your head on his chest and try and get a couple of hours sleep before the twins would wake up.

tagline: 

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Baby Race and Baby Crutchie at Disneyland

😂🤦‍♀️ I remember that.

I’ve never posted it, but hey, why not now, right?

So basically, I was brainstorming a story with @bexlynne forever ago about Jack and his brothers all having superpowers. It’s hard to explain and has nothing to do with this particular scene, but somehow I got to the idea of “what if Medda and Kloppman celebrated Jack adopting Race and Crutchie by taking them to Disneyland”. I think it was because I had just gotten my annual pass back, but anyway, this happened...

Jack hugged little Charlie close to his chest, letting Race grasp tightly onto his hand. “Please fill all of the dead space in the room! If you can still breathe, you’re not trying hard enough,” one of the workers called. Jack vaguely remembered Medda telling him they were called cast members. He couldn’t stop himself from chuckling at the request.

“Stay close, babies... it’s gonna get crowded,” Medda ordered lightly, taking Race’s hand and sandwiching him between herself and Jack, whilst Kloppman stood very close to Jack’s side.

“When hinges creek in doorless chambers, and strange and frightening sounds echo through the halls...” A gasp from caught Jack’s attention immediately.

“It’s okay, baby. I got you...” Jack promised with a smile, glancing down at Race to find a giant grin on his face as he excitedly glanced around the room, trying to find the owner of the disembodied voice that seemed to be coming from the walls.

“Whenever candlelight’s flicker, where the air is deathly still... that is the time when ghosts are present, practicing their terror with ghoulish delight...”

Behind Jack, another door opened. “Bubba...” Charlie whimpered. The teenager shook his head and smiled, pulling Race along with them as they walked back into the other, circular room.

“C’mon Charlie!” Race encouraged his baby brother, letting go of Jack’s hand and letting Kloppman ruffle his hair. “It ain’t real!” he promised, marveling at the paintings in the room. They were all so interesting. One of a woman sitting with a rose in her hand, another of a beautiful dancer, holding and umbrella above her head as she smiled. Jack didn’t miss it when Race’s eyes widened when the voice began to speak again.

“Welcome foolish mortals, to the Haunted Mansion. I am your host. Your ghost host.”

“Ghost?” Charlie whispered out, clinging to his big brother for dear life. “Bubba?”

“Don’t worry, baby,” Medda assured. “Nothin’s gonna hurt you...”

“Kindly step all the way in please, make room for everyone. There’s no turning back now...” the voice laughed. “Our tour begins here in this gallery, where you see paintings of some of our guests as they appeared in their corruptible, mortal state.”

Jack didn’t know exactly how to feel. He felt bad for finding this all somewhat amusing. He’d never experienced anything else quite like it. His brothers had been scared so many times before in the past and he’d been scared right along with them. This time though, there was nothing to be scared of. All he could do was grin and hold his baby brother tightly, trying to calm him down as they were moved tighter and tighter together.

“Please drag your bodies away from the walls and into the dead center of the room.” Again, a laugh escaped Jack at the pun and the monotone voice of the cast member. Race was practically bouncing with excitement. That was when the door was closed and Jack came to the realization that there was no other way out. Not only that, but the room seemed to be moving. The pictures were no longer peaceful or calming. They were moments of odd death. The dancer standing above a crocodile jumping up to eat her, a woman sitting atop a man’s grave, three men sinking in quicksand and another standing on a barrel of dynamite.

“Your cadaverous pallor betrays an aura of foreboding, almost as though you sense a disquieting metamorphosis. Is this haunted room actually stretching? Or is it your imagination — hmm?” Charlie refused to look up, instead, choosing to bury his face in Jack’s shoulder. He didn’t like the voice. It was too scary and too deep. “And consider this dismaying observation: this chamber has no windows and no doors… which offers you this chilling challenge: to find a way out!”

The evil laugh somehow brought another wave of excitement through Race who reached up and clutched Kloppman’s hand. “Of course, there’s always my way...”

Thunder clapped from above and the lights went out. The ceiling broke open and high, high over their heads was a man, hung by the neck. A scream echoed around the room and Jack was torn between laughing or being concerned when Charlie shrieked and buried himself deeper in the embrace.

“Aww, is it his first time?” a woman next to their group asked as Jack realized he was being pushed into a different room.

“It’s all our first times!” Race announced proudly, showing off his own yellow button that said just that. “Charlie’s only two. He don’t know it ain’t real...”

A smile melted onto the young woman’s face as another girl grasped onto her hand, pulling her forward into the giant hallway before them. “Aww the poor thing...” she laughed empathetically. “Don’t worry, kiddo... it’s not that scary...” she promised lightly. The baby boy barely lifted his head up to peak at the kind woman before the lightning flashed from a window beside them. Jack chuckled and held the boy close as he walked, trusting that Race was okay with Medda and Kloppman.

“Thank you,” Jack nodded to the girl as her friend pulled her further into the crowd. “See, baby? It ain’t scary. Nothin’ is gonna get you, okay?”

It was clear the child did not believe him in the least as he buried his head further into Jack’s neck and sniffled against him.

Somehow, Jack was able to get on the so called doombuggy without his baby screaming and begging him to stop. Kloppman slid in next to him and Race and Medda were rushing to get on the cart behind them. “C’mon Charlie...” Kloppman encouraged with a laugh. “Where’s our brave little boy, huh?”

Charlie groaned in response, simply letting Jack pat his back as they began their climb up a small hill and the music could be heard even louder where a candle was floating by itself in front of a giant mirror.

The whole ride was incredible. It wasn’t really scary, but Jack couldn’t get his baby to lift his head for even a moment. The boy heard the doors rattling and the floating head talking and he refused to look up. “C’mon bubba, it ain’t scary, I promise.” A firm shake of his head was the only reply, Jack got. He laughed and let the child rest against him, shaking his head as he enjoyed the ride himself, glancing to his right and seeing his other brother’s eyes as wide as plates as he took in every detail of every room. Medda was laughing, shaking her head as the boy found absolutely everything about it so fascinating.

“It’s okay, Charlie! They’re just trying to play!” Race called, trying to cheer up their brother. Charlie only peered up for a moment to look at him before seeing the ghosts messing around in their graveyard.

“Ah, there you are! And just in time… there’s a little matter I forgot to mention — beware of hitchhiking ghosts!” Jack laughed when their doombuggy swung to the left towards a wall of mirrors. In between him and Kloppman was another, cartoon ghost. “They have selected you to fill our quota, and they’ll haunt you until you return! Now I will raise the safety bar, and a ghost will follow you home!”

“No!” Charlie cried, grasping at Jack’s sweatshirt and squeezing his eyes tight.

Jack carefully stepped onto the moving sidewalk, rocking his brother back and forth gently before someone else came and grabbed for his hand.

“Hurry back... hurry back...” a woman called as they were moved to the exit. “Be sure to bring your death certificate...”

It wasn’t until they found the light of day that the toddler on Jack’s chest felt it safe to open his teary eyes up. He lifted his head up so his big brother could see his disapproval in full and the teenager just laughed. “Okay, Charlie... we won’t do that one again,” he promised, seeing Racer pout out of the corner of his eye. But Jack gave him a quick wink before they were off walking again.

Charlie didn’t smile again until he saw Pooh Bear waving at him like mad and begging the poor kid to give him a grin.

In case y’all are wondering, I did write out the whole ghost host monologue from memory. Because I am indeed a freak.

😂 thanks for reminding me about this one, Bex!

About my Blood: Loki Laufeyson

I was waiting for you.

That was what you wanted, wasn't it?

Loki Laufeyson. This is the name by which you learned to know me. From the infamous day in the Voult, when I first uttered it, with a broken voice, ... incredulous gaze.

A violent and painful emotion.

My ears were ringing, I stared at the emptiness for explanations that would never come.

Laufey's son.

Before starting I want to say immediately what I may have never dared to admit aloud ...

I started calling myself Laufeyson for revenge against Odin.

Just to spite him.

To reiterate that, if for him I had never been worthy to bear his name, I too didn't want to have anything to do with his people, arrogant and self-centered.

Calling myself Loki Laufeyson made me feel free from the yoke of Odin, from the power he had on me.

It was like laughing at his coldness.

"I am not like you, nor like that boisterous idiot of your son ..." said that name "I am other, something different from all of you, fucking hypocrites, that you go around like all of you were all shining and immaculate souls! "

It was like being able to shake off his reproach, his frowning expression of eternal discontent.

I was no longer Loki Odinson, sad, silent and obedient; that new identity, that reappropriation of my true roots had injected me strength, courage, will.

My Father silently disdained me for what I really was? Did all of them point out to me like the jealous, conspirator, liar and deceiver?

Very well, I would have satisfied them all by dressing gloriously of my new name.

I was a Frost Giant, son of an evil race, murderous and treacherous, .. he who had begotten me was their King, Laufey by the grin of predator, the look of blood, the hands dripping of the annihilated lives of his enemies and who knows who's others.

If this was what they thought of me, I would have given it to them.

Loki Laufeyson would have been what others wanted, or thought, I was.

And so Loki Laufeyson has betrayed Asgard, betrayed his brother, rejected his mother, tried to take what had always been denied. A place.

He brought chaos and destruction to Midgard, sparking a strange war that hiding something else behind it.

Loki Laufeyson was the most evil I could be.

And once again I find myself wondering if it was really what I wanted. The hatred toward my Father and the desire for revenge for what he had done devoured my soul, so that nothing at that time seemed to me enough to punish him.

To punish all of them, damned Asgardians, ... them and that look of superiority with which they all gazed at the others.

Loki Laufeyson had taken the little Loki with sad eyes by the hand, and with persuasive and poisonous words had put him in a corner, in silence, ... once again silenced and left to watch destroy his world and the people who, somehow, he still loved.

Whispering with his voice of treacherous velvet: "Look, child, ... look how easy it is to lie and deceive, taste the sweet taste of revenge, I do it for you, child. Is what you've always wanted, isn't? Be good, now, and let the pain of others drive your own pain away... "

Loki Laufeyson hasn't looked at anyone in order to have his revenge: not his brother, not his mother, ...for not to mention that infamous, arrogant liar of his father.

Yet I still believe that "he" was also a victim of Odin.

I know what you are thinking.

"How the hell do you talk today? Loki Laufeyson are you ... what are these little words tricks?"

Ah, sweet Midgardians children, you know how much the words plays on my lips, and how much I enjoy myself in this. Nevertheless there are events, in my unfortunate life, which by their nature can not be analyzed rationally.

By their nature, yes...

Do you have any idea, the furthest idea of what it meant to me, a boy, to have discovered the gigantic lie that had been my life up to that moment? See with horror my skin become blue, the sneer of the demon that held me tight so as not to lose even a moment of my loss, my paiful disbelief.

Understanding in a moment that nothing would ever be like before.

If ever there had been, a "before" ...

The nightmare had begun to end no more. I had become Loki Laufeyson. I had always been Loki Laufeyson.

A misfortune. The enemy. The blue demon. The monster.

I understood in a moment my father's lies, and the reason for his detachment. The most cynical part of me could even understand it.

How can you love someone you've never really wanted? The son of your worst enemy ...

How can you love a child who, you already know, will never be like you, or like the perfect child you already have ...?

You can not. And if you try to do it, at most you can offer that kind indifference, cold as the winter sun. And that will hurt him, slowly, silently, day by day, without remedy ....

Pay no attention to what has been shown to you. I didn't accepted that very uncomfortable truth in a week: things don't go so fast, and the souls torn to pieces, sometimes, need time to go crazy little by little.

I lived with that heartbreaking truth, in silence, for a long time, ... yes, a lot, if I speak in Midgardians terms.

My father had filled my brother and me, and our little children's minds, with myriads of grim and bloody stories about how monstrous the Jotunn demons were. Thor has become a man with the glorious mission to exterminate them one by one.

Can you understand my hell?

My pure terror? After a youth spent hating and fearing that breed of brutal murderers, suddenly the monster is me. I'm one of them.

One of them...

Can you understand? The sense of emptiness, the nausea, the disgust ... the feeling to be disgusting and dirty, guilty only for the fact of existing, living and breathing there, among the radiant Aesir. How many times I washed myself, in my rooms, and rubbed my skin, rubbed, rubbed ... with my nails, even, ... until I bleed, as if that blue could disappear, that horrible lizard color that disgusted me up to the point to throw up all night, desperate and on the verge of insanity.

And then the sharp thought of never being enough for anyone took over.

Not for my father, the biological one, ... the monster, he is, yes, ... who had chosen death for his son, whose only fault was to be small in a race of giants. Not for the man, ... The God who had wanted to save me for a strange mixture of emotions and strategies.

Odin, Allfather, who had found this adopted son under his roof, ... and who, only after many years, he realized he could never love him. I had not been enough for anyone.

Not enough for Laufey. Not enough for Odin.

If I had died there, on the frozen rock, it would have been better for everyone. Me for first.

I tell this myself again, sometimes, when anguish tortures me and sadness devours my broken soul.

Loki Laufeyson.

The son of the enemy. The Lost Prince. But also the rightful King of that inhospitable place, dark, cold, with the pungent air of ice.

Jotunheim.

When we were young, this word was enough for Thor and I to be overwhelmed by shivering with fear. And many, countless times, I stayed awake until late under the covers, terrified of finding one of those blue monsters, drooling next to my bed to devour me.

If only I had imagined ...

I am still struggling to accept passively my true heritage, ... to accept "the other", the blue demon I see in the mirror every time I allow my magic to loosen.

It's not easy for me, it's not at all.

Do you want to see?

Will you bear the sight of what I really am? Do you think you are ready, you who cry out to love my Jotunn nature, and accept my true appearance, no matter what?

....

Here, do you see it? Do you see the demon?

My skin ...is not ... it's not pale. It's blue ... my mother used to say that it looked beautiful, beautiful like the snow at dusk when it turns blue, .. but she could find some good anywhere ...

Do you see it? It is cold, cold as ice, adorned with intricate lines, lighter blue. They point out at my Prince Jotunn's blood, in truth. I already knew that, ever since I was a boy, I was studying and reading about the many peoples who live in Yggdrasill like so many swarming insects. The lines on my forehead are the three qualities that a King Jotunn must have: ruthlessness, brutality, and the last one, the one divided in two in a specular manner, is explained by a sentence in an ancient manuscript about my race ... "If you have to die, bring your enemy with you "

What kind of creature am I, with death written on my face?

Look me in the eyes, come on  ...

Are they still the captivating, deep green eyes you're in love with?

They are eyes like a beast, a ferret, demon eyes that pierce the darkness and that see you everywhere. Killer eyes.

Do you still like me? Am I still the wonderful God of Mischief ?

What do you see of me now?

Is it equally fascinating, Loki Laufeyson, in his purest form?

.....

You know, ... in the time when I started fighting my furious inner battle against "him", I also started to accept the fact of being this, and try to change it at the same time. To prove to the eyes of all those pompous bastards that does not count the color of the skin, but what you have inside ... that moves you, this is what matters.

I wanted to prove that I was different. I wanted to prove everyone that they was wrong.

So once I saved a girl, prey of dangerous winter fevers.

The healers no longer knew what to do, while she was extinguished like a little candle, day after day, thinning like a ghost, her eyes rimmed with dark circles, her lips dry and cracked. She stood still in his little bed, barely breathing, moaning from time to time, in his heavy and painful sleep.

I knew her. She was the daughter of a soldier, ... a shy girl who gave flowers to Thor and weaved silky bracelets to me. An adorable, innocent girl.

One day I went into the Healing Chambers and got everyone out. His mother, ... the maids, the old doctors with that heavy look of eternal gravediggers ...everybody get out, leave me alone with her ...

I sat at the side of the bed and watched her breathing hard.

"Thor's flowers have dried up, child, and you promised me a green silk bracelet with a new weave, do you remember?" I whispered, stroking her hot temples "Come back to us, come back to those who love you, little bird, ... Hel's bleating dogs are not worthy of your lovely face ..."

I gently took her hand, rested my lips on her forehead and loosened the magic that held the Jotunn shape.

I had to be very careful not to use too much power not to hurt her, ... just let the frost of my skin sooth the fever fire, slowly.

"Come back, little one... come on, come back to us, to those who love you ..."

And she did it. The fever lowered and I saw her sleep in peace, without jolts and moans, ... just pink cheeks, regular breathing. She was just very cold and red where I had touched it.

She healed, and she never knew it, though I suspect her mother understood it and told it to her, as she later thanked me stammering with tear-stained eyes. Little Elìn ... I hope life smiled at her later.

Last time I saved my brother.

Yes, you read that right, you don't need to reread.

I saved the precious God of Thunder's ass.

When my father allowed him to return from his exile (again, ... forget the stories of images you saw, ... the time is a ribbon much more intricate than simple visual tales...) there was another battle. Little thing, in truth, ... a skirmish. I could say that we had fought worst ones, yet on this occasion Thor was badly wounded. Very badly. Like a boy.

To a thigh, in a wretched spot, and the blood oozed out.

We had dragged between dry heather and boulders, far from the fight now exhausted, and both battered we looked at each other to see if we were still alive.

In reality, I was on the verge of losing my mind, and I was fighting another battle in silence, so as not to get rid of the demons' bites. So I pretended.  My father had taught me that. Or rather, imposed, since I was a child, and I had become good.

In a few days I would have come down to the Vault looking for answers, ... but I was telling another thing.

About Thor who, under my eyes, was bleeding like a rookie. Livid as if he were already dead, he looked at me trembling, his pants torn and soaked with blood: he also tried to disguise, with his smile like a braggart, ... but it was like seeing the depths of Hel come to take one piece at a time .

"Why...why you look at me like that, Loki, ... stop, ... you ... you're making me nervous ..."

My coat that had stopped the bleeding for a while, now no longer held ... I saw it darken, full of blood.

"You're dying, you silly, brainless oaf, how should I look at you?" I muttered.

He, with his last strength, grabbed me brutally by the shoulder and shook me: he still possessed a tremendous force, even with the claws of death planted in the neck .

"Do not you dare to talk to me like this anymore, little brother!

I pushed him away.

"Or what?" I cried, "Will you kill me like the Giants you hate so much? Just a little longer and you won't have a brother anymore!"

I said it because I wanted to poke into his arrogant, empty head that was really dying. To hear it now, it sounds sadly truthful, I realize ...

I pushed him against a rock to remain seated, then tore off the hood, uncovering the bloody gash.

"All right, I've had enough!" Now shut up, for once! "

I put my hand on it, he jumped violently: the blood leaked through my fingers, running in tiny red revolts. I had no more time to think ...

"Loki, what ... what are you doing ...?"

"I'm saving your life, you stupid, and now you close your mouth ... and don't say anything, before I change my mind ..."

In truth he no longer had the strength, and remained motionless, half-fixed, staring at me.

"We have to close this damn wound, ... and in the absence of fire, the ice will do the same service ..."

"Wha-what...?" became even paler.

Once again I loosed the magic and my skin went blue, the blue marks on my face, the demon's red eyes, ... I shuddered with terror: I was in front of Thor the Almighty in my full Jotunn form. Even at the point of death, he could raise Mjiollnir and crush me instantly, like a harassing insect. But the moments passed and I was still alive ...

"The fire and the ice both burn, isn't it? Only the ice is colder ..." I said it with tears in my eyes, chuckling.

Thor stared at me, wide-eyed, motionless, as if he were already dead and looking at me from the Otherworld. But then he whispered:

"Loki ... Loki, of all your idiocies ... what ... what the hell is that ...?"

"This is the most idiotic of all, I know, ..." I whispered almost speaking to myself  "Now close that damn mouth and don't let me say it again!"

I gave him no more way to reply, not even to look at me again with those haunted and upset eyes; I pulled the edges of the wound and squeezed, letting the power of nature Jotunn flow. I heard him scream, he clung to me with such violence that he almost broke my shoulder. I found myself staring at her blue eyes, full of resentment and surprise, planted in mine, red like the berries of winter.

They were furious and fierce eyes, which almost physically attacked me. He would have killed me. If only he had had a little more strength I am sure he would have killed me instantly, before realizing that it was me, prey to hatred of my race. Hatred that our father had instilled in him since childhood, poisonous drops that had corrupted his heart.

But it did not happen.

After those terrible moments, Thor gasped, closed his eyes and then collapsed heavily against me, unconscious.

I looked at him in shock, without having the courage to breathe, or dare to touch him: slowly, the magic that concealed my true aspect resumed control, and my skin became discoloring to become the pale one of Aesir. Although battered and covered with dried blood.

I was still. Hands up. The disheveled blond head of my brother abandoned on my chest.

What ... what did I just do? As I had thought of ...

But it was the only way not to have a new God of Thunder in my life.

Merciful Gods of Asgard ... I had just shown myself to Thor, in my Jotunn form and saved him from bleeding. It sounded damn surreal and senseless ...

And now what would have happened?

I remember checking the wound. It smoked. A dense, icy and whitish smoke. The skin was purple, almost blackish, so cold that it burned, if it makes sense ... the edges were juxtaposed, covered with a thin layer of ice and frost crystals. There was dried blood encrusted everywhere. Frost and dried blood on his pants, on my trembling hands, on Thor's blonde hair. A mess...

The wound was closed, burned by frost. Thor was safe. In a few days, I would have found myself dangling in the void beyond Bifrost, pushed down by my father's firm and cruel "no". Odin, who left his son to choose death with that refusal to resonate in the air, while the emptiness already cradled him.

That day, though, I had saved Thor's precious life and nobody ever knew it. Not even him, who was convinced that he survived because he had the brilliant idea of ??pressing fresh snow on the wound, ... that stupid naive child !!

This was and is still Loki Laufeyson. Contradictions and twisted thoughts.

Loki Laufeyson is an ice-skinned demon, torn between good and evil, left there to scream all his anger. Torn by the desperate need of approval and the cynical desire not to belong to anyone else who is not himself.

My legacy is dark, my lineage, brutal and cruel, ... while Asgard was my stepmother, at first benevolent, then, with resentment and cruelty, she abandoned me when I needed her more.

Is it any wonder, then, if I find this painful and inextricable tangle of demons that devour my soul, sometimes in silence, sometimes, ... as now, ... screaming all their anguish?

It cost me a lot to write all this. A lot of effort, a lot of time, a lot of tears, sleepless nights and new sadness.

And yet I'm not satisfied with it, because I feel there's still so much to boil in my bloody Jotunn blood. Something indefinite, nameless that presses and cries to be heard, to be seen, to have space

I have not even figured out who the hell I am yet.

The green-eyed sad child who was praying for a sincere caress of his father? The young Prince that no one has ever loved? The miserable wreck that caused the death of his mother? The glorious, shining God of Mischief, with his captivating smile and sharp tongue? The Frost demon that saved Thor's life?

Who is Loki Laufeyson?

All of this?

Something else, so terrible that others see and I have not dared to recognize?

From time to time I loosen the magic that hides my appearance, and I look at myself, as you did a while ago.

Do not think it's so natural for me, or that I like it. I spent years to remain impassive in front of the mirror, to look at my face furrowed by blue lines, crazy eyes ... my body, the blue skin, cold as ice on the water.

....

Here it is. I scrutinize. I look at myself.

I try to find splinters of what I have always known about myself in that blue-haired unkempt that looks back at me, beyond the mirror.

Loki Laufeyson.

This is what my father feared. That's why he kept me away. I wonder if he thought the same things when he picked me up, ... a Jotun baby. I wonder if he hated me since then.

A newborn baby who cried in despair, believing he had to die ... what threat could I represent?

But I had Laufey's blood, murderer and traitor. However, I was condemned.

It was my blood that scared him, that alarmed him.

Jotunn blood. The blood of a King.

I will never give up what the others think I should be. I will not bend to their judgments.

I am free of all their hypocrisy, and I have chosen to live respecting myself, ... at least for a while, as far as I can. For the time when my demons leave me alone.

Little Loki Odinson came out of his corner, tired of being put aside by everyone, and now speaks for himself.

I smile. I grin.

And the image in the mirror smiles me back.

Inspired by OQ Day 7: “The Last Lifetime”

My sixth entry for Inspired by OQ Week, based on a manip by starscythe. You can see it on my Twitter.

           Always read the fine print.

           Regina couldn’t help but think that as she paced around her prison for this lifetime—something called a penthouse, located in New York City—thought it was quite different from what she was used to. Tall buildings stretched toward the sky, illuminating the night once the sun went down. She looked out her window and could see their magnificent displays without having to tilt her head up at all. When she looked down, the people and the strange contraptions that populated the streets looked like ants. She wondered if this was what a giant felt like, looking down at the world from their beanstalk.

           She had a lot more space to move around in this time. She had her own bedroom and a luxurious bathroom—with a toilet that flushed her waste away rather than a chamber pot she had to keep tossing out the window—and a tub she could fill with hot water. There was a large kitchen that was always stocked with food, allowing her to cook for herself this time—once she figured out how to use the different contraptions in the room. She even had her own parlor, with couches and chairs and a bookcase as big as a wall that contained books on every subject imaginable. Regina enjoyed making herself a cup of hot chocolate and settling into one of the chairs to spend the day reading.

           This world also had marvelous technology that allowed her to find ways to entertain herself, such as the TV mounted to her wall. She could watch fictional stories akin to the plays her father used to take her to see, real life stories about people and animals and things in this world and she was able to know everything that was going on thanks to something called the news. TV had even taught her new recipes to cook in the kitchen, helping her navigate all the tools she had been given.

           She also had something called the internet, which allowed to her watch even more filmed plays (movies and TV shows) as well as learn all about the strange land outside her window. There was a chance she would finally be able to leave and experience it, so she wanted to be ready.

           Which brought her back to the bane of her existence—the curse.

            The sad thing was that she had brought it on herself to escape an unwanted marriage. After discovering what Regina had done, her mother had used her magic to show her what her life as his queen would’ve been like. They saw only loneliness, neglect and violence—especially when she was executed for being unable to produce another heir since no one would dare fault the aging king who had struggled to even sire one child with his first wife. While she didn’t regret not going through with the marriage after that—and it had silenced her mother as well—she still wished she had read all the details of the curse before casting it on herself. She had, she might’ve sought out another way to avoid marrying him or at least someone more versed in magic than she who could alter it for her.

           Regina had cursed herself to never marry until she found someone who would love her unconditionally and who she loved the same way. It had seemed like an answer to her prayer—the magic would prevent Leopold from marrying her and she would be able to find happiness. She had forgotten that curses were meant to be placed on other people and designed to be very difficult to break. After casting it, she found she was unable to leave her family’s home—not even to go outside. Her mother had discovered which curse she had used and explained the nuances of it. Regina was to be trapped in a place until she found the person who would be able to break the curse, which would set up obstacles to prevent him (or her, though Regina hadn’t dared to tell that to her mother—she was already irate at having to give up her dreams of having Regina on a throne) from doing so.

           Frustrated with what Regina had done, Mother had enchanted a mirror to reveal the person who would break the curse. It had shown a blond hair man with matching scruff (which her mother derided) and kind blue eyes. When he smiled, it revealed two dimples and Regina’s stomach did flips. They watched him to learn more about him, finding out his name was Robin and he was from Locksley. Mother was dismayed to learn he had no title and Daddy wasn’t thrilled that he was a thief by trade. Yet Regina watched as he gave away everything he stole to those less fortunate than him, making sure families had food on their tables and medicines when they were sick. His kindness and selflessness brought her father around, though Mother was still less than thrilled that he was the one to break the curse. After some arguing between the family members, she disguised herself in order to bring Robin to the manor so he could meet and fall in love with Regina.

           She had returned empty-handed, however, though it was not for lack of trying. Robin had fallen in love with another woman and married her before Mother could find him. After talking with those who knew him best, she realized he would not leave his wife and so had to go home to break her daughter’s heart. They all turned back to the mirror, hoping it would find someone else who could break the spell but it revealed no one else.

           A few years after that, though, Regina learned another part of the curse no one knew about. Robin had finally been captured by the Sheriff of Nottingham and sentenced to death for his crimes. Though his men had tried to rescue him, he had been hanged on the gallows one sunny afternoon. Regina had learned all of this second hand from a letter her father had left her for the very day Robin died, she had fallen into a deep sleep. When she awoke, she found herself in a small cottage rather than her father’s house, the letter tucked between her hands. Daddy had explained that Mother had done more research after Regina fallen asleep to learn that Robin was the only person who could break the curse and every time he died, Regina would fall asleep until he was reincarnated and of a marrying age. She would then be transported to wherever he was but still trapped, unable to escape until he found her.

           They were on their eighth lifetime together, each time having gotten closer and closer to finally breaking it. It took until their fourth lifetime before they actually met—like the first time, he kept marrying someone else before she had a chance to find him. He met early ends in the second lifetime but lived to an old age in the third one, which had nearly driven Regina mad as she was trapped in a stone tower like a stereotypical damsel in distress with very little to occupy her time in that lifetime. In the fourth lifetime, he still married someone else after they had met as it was an arranged marriage. No matter the lifetime, he always looked the same and had the same character traits that made her love him more and more—intelligent, witty, kind, generous, selfless and honorable. It was the last trait that meant he had to honor the marriage contract, though he wrote to her until the day he died. She had found his last letter when she woke up in the fifth lifetime with his promises that they would be together in death.

           In the fifth lifetime, he became a priest and they met because her benefactor was a pious woman who used him as her confessor. Robin had constantly been in her life but was still out of her reach. He confessed one time that had he met her before taking his vows, he would’ve most likely forsaken the priesthood to be her husband. But he had taken his vows and once again wanted to honor them, so they were not meant to be. He later died after contracting small pox from tending to sick members of his flock, sending Regina back into her magical slumber.

           The sixth lifetime brought her to a plantation in the middle of some place called Virginia while a war raged around her. Since others could come into wherever she lived—she just couldn’t leave—she turned her house into a hospital, helping to tend to the soldiers after several battles. Regina learned that her new home was a colony of Great Britain but that some of the colonists believed they should be their own country, Robin one of them. He and his men were fight for the right to govern themselves, to decide their futures and hopefully make things better for themselves and future generations. She cared for him after a battle, falling in love with him as she always did. He fell in love with her, just like the last two lifetimes, but was killed once he returned to battle.

           War took him from her in their seventh lifetime together, though they had managed to get engaged in that lifetime. It didn’t count, though. The curse had required them to be married and a German sniper killed that possibility, sending her back into her magical slumber.

           Now, though, everything seemed to be aligning perfectly. The mirror her mother had enchanted always traveled with her and it had revealed that Robin was in New York as well. She had figured out how to use the internet to find him, learning he was not married and didn’t appear to have a significant other. He ran a non-profit dedicated to helping the less fortunate, especially the homeless. It had given her a way to meet him as she had amassed a great fortune over her lifetimes. She contacted him and offered to make a generous donation but required that Robin come talk to her in person. He had readily agreed and set up a date and time for their meeting.

           Which he was now fifteen minutes late for. She checked the time again and her stomach clenched. Had the curse done something to stop him from meeting with her? She was still conscious so he was still alive—but was he hurt somewhere? Or would this be another lifetime where he met an amazing woman, giving her his heart and leaving Regina to be alone until the next lifetime?

           The phone by her front door rang and she hurried over to it. Only the doorman used it and she hoped it meant that Robin was here. Regina picked it up. “Hello?”

           “Buongiorno, Signora Regina. A Signor Robin Locksley is here to see you,” Marco said. In every lifetime, there had been one person who knew her secret. This time, her trusted doorman was the one and he was very protective of her.

           “Yes, I’ve been expecting him,” she said, relief flooding through her. “You can send him up.”

           She smoothed out the black dress she wore and checked her hair in the mirror. First impressions were very important and she wanted to make a good one on him. She didn’t want to leave anything to chance this time. This was going to be their last lifetime, she believed. They were going to make it in this one.

           The elevator dinged and a sharp knock sounded against her door. She took a deep breath before opening it with a smile. “Mr. Locksley, a pleasure,” she said.

           It was then she got a good look at him and she felt as if she forgot how to speak. His hair was still the same shade of blond as always, this time cut close at the sides but left a bit thicker at the top. She spied some gray already at his temples but it only made him look more attractive. This one had grown scruff, just like the first version of him and she was glad to see it after a couple of incarnations where he was clean-shaven. His blue eyes were as bright as ever and just as warm as she remembered, especially in the dark blue suit and tie he wore. When he smiled as he held out his hand, those dimples she always loved were formed.

           “It’s an honor to meet you,” he said, shaking her hand. “Your call thrilled all of us back at Take Aim at Poverty.”

           She smiled, letting him step into her penthouse. “I’m glad to hear that. Can I get you anything?”

           “Water will be fine,” he said, sounding a bit distracted as he looked around her apartment. He no doubt was trying to figure out just how much money she had to donate, not knowing that he could have it all. She certainly had no need for it.

           “Bottled water okay?” she asked, heading toward her refrigerator. She felt him follow her as he assured her that it was fine.

           She took out two bottles and handed one to him. He thanked her before saying: “I’m sorry I was late. The trains got backed up and I know you don’t have cell phone or else I would’ve texted you.”

           “That’s okay,” she said, just glad he was there now. She motioned to the table. “Why don’t you sit down and we can talk?”

           They sat down and Robin pulled out some pamphlets from the black case he carried. He gave them to her so she could look them over while he told her all about his organization. She had to force herself to listen to what he was saying as just the sound of his voice made her head spin and made her remember the few times they had been close enough for him to whisper sweet nothings in her ear.

           “I’m just curious. How did you hear about us?” he asked, taking a sip of his water.

           She had been prepared for this. “I saw a story about you on the internet and was intrigued. So I did some research and was really impressed with the work you were doing.”

           He tilted his head. “And you just decided to call us up and make a donation?”

           “Yes,” she said, shrugging. “As you can see, I’ve had a privileged life and I feel it’s only right that I do my best to try to minimize inequity in society.”

           Robin looked impressed himself. “We appreciate that. Would you also be interested in volunteering with our organization? Get a chance to help these people firsthand?”

           Her smile faltered. “I, uh, can’t really leave here.”

           “Oh,” he said softly. She worried that he would press her for more information. Or worse, decide to just take her money and feel she was too weird for him to pursue anything more. That would break her heart…again.

           His fingers twitched as if he wanted to take her hand. “That’s okay. You just do whatever makes you comfortable. Everything matters.”

           She tucked some hair behind her ear. “Thank you. So, shall we figure this all out?”

           “That sounds like a great idea,” he replied, smiling again. It put those dimples on display again and everything seemed to be falling into place for Regina. Hope filled her and she felt more resolved to make this lifetime their last one.

Continue reading on FFnet, AO3 or Wattpad

Reign || Pt 20

Reign Masterlist

Word Count: 3.1k

Groups: BTS, EXO, Blackpink, Twice

Au: Royal

Pairing: Baekhyun x Reader, Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Angst | Fluff | Smut | Au

Warnings: literally everything that happens 

Previously:

“You must be confused,” Jungkook said, sending her an unhappy look.

“I can make you satisfied,“ She said, stepping to side of his chair, “I can make it all better.”

Jungkook took in a sharp breath, “I love my wife.”

“But does she love you? Does she make you feel good.”

Jungkook looked up the blonde, “Y/N is the love of my life, I would never betray her. You could never offer me more than she can. Have some fucking respect for yourself and your monarchs. Guards!”

The guards took an arm each, guiding her out of the room, “You’re making a mistake!”

“Jihan, I pray that you won’t have to deal with people like her.”

You were distraught.

You had locked yourself in your private chambers. You had only used them once, on the night before your wedding.

“That whore, and my husband,” You rambled, curled up on the bed, “Is she his mistress? Has this been going on for a while? Had all the times I went to bed earlier been spent with her?”

You were sobbing uncontrollably, not caring who heard you. You had the whole corridor closed off, that way there was no way he could get to you.

You had asked your ladies to take care of Jihan, only to bring him when he needed feeding. You knew it wasn’t fair on him, but you needed time alone.

“Our marriage can’t be annulled, an divorce isn’t legal,” You say, your mind churning with thoughts, “What if he has me killed? Like that English King!”

You began sobbing louder. Thinking that he loved this other girl, and had been slowly trying to get rid of you.

“I’m probably overreacting,” You say, trying to control your breathing. You couldn’t remember a time before coming to Jeon that you had felt so alone.

You stood up, wanting to do something productive. It was getting late, and Jihan would probably need feeding soon.

You walked the wardrobe, feeling the cold stone underneath your feet. Chaeyoung had bought some of your dresses for you, not knowing how long you wanted to stay in there for.

There were three night gowns, two down with lace and jewels, and a simple one. Figuring that you had no one to impress, you took out the simple one, laying it down on your bed.

You didn’t have much experience in taking off your own dress, seeing as your ladies and servants had always done it, followed by Jungkook.

You twisted your body in the mirror, trying to reach the strings that held your gown together.

After many minutes of twisting and turning, you finally undid one hook, sighing when you realized there were more.

“I have the Prince Jihan for the Queen to see. He needs to sleep soon but he won’t until he is fed.”

“Let them in!” You called out. You gave Jihyo a small smile, “Put him on the bed for now, I need help.”

Jihyo smiled, placing Jihan down before undoing your dress. You let out a deep breath when your corset was taken off, finally being able to breathe properly. You threw the nightgown over your head, and ran over to your bed.

“How has he been,” You asked, picking him up and letting him drink from you.

“Jungkook wouldn’t see him,” Jihyo said, “He won’t see anyone. He’s been in his room. No food or drinks could be brought in, only the chambermaids.”

“I didn’t ask about him, I asked about Jihan,” You say, stroking Jihan’s cheek.

“He’s been crying a lot,” Jihyo said, “I mentioned to him that we were going to see you, and he stopped crying immediately.”

You smile lightly, “He’s an Eomma’s boy.”

“Do you think you could get him to sleep,” Jihyo said, sitting down next to you, “He wouldn’t nap during the day. He’s going to be a very fussy baby tomorrow.”

“You can bring him to me if it gets too much,” You say, “I do think that when tomorrow comes, I will be calmer.”

Jihyo looked to the ground, before meeting your stare, “Will you speak to him?”

“To whom?”

“The King.”

You let out a light laugh, “I do not intend on speaking to him unless the fate of my son depends on it.”

“It is not my place to say,” Jihyo says, “But as your friend, as someone who knows the King, I don’t believe he would ever do anything against you. He loves you more than anything in this world, he’s broken without you.”

Your breath hitches in your throat, “When do I have to see him next?”

“Tomorrow night,” Jihyo says, looking at you with remorse, “The Chinese Royal family are here, the Prince Luhan and Princess Xiaotong. There is a Ball being held tomorrow night.”

You gulped, putting Jihan down as he was almost asleep, “Make sure our outfits are matching. No one must know about our… problems.”

“As you wish.”

Jungkook had been sitting on the floor in his room for hours now. Nothing could stop the tears falling. He had upset you, and he believed he had ruined your marriage forever.

“What if she’s already stopped loving me?” Jungkook asked over and over, “Maybe she’ll claim that Jihan is someone else’s baby, and go back to Park.”

Many times the maids had tried to come into the room, trying to give him food, but he didn’t care.

“Y/N,” He mumbled, his chest heaving from his tears, “Come back to me.”

He stood up, wanting to see Jihan. He was already in his nightclothes, but he didn’t care. He slowly walked down the short passage that led to his sons room, only to find it empty. He went over to the king sized bed, noticing how it still hadn’t been made from when you slept in it. He got underneath the covers, noticing it still smelled like you. Your perfume, the makeup that was painted on your face everyday. You.

“Your Majesty?”

Jungkook jumped out of the bed, “Jihyo, where did you take Jihan?”

Jihyo stayed still, holding the sleeping baby in her arms, “He had to be fed, by Y/N, of course.”

Jungkook took short steps over to his son, “C-can I hold him?”

Jihyo quickly handed him over, stepping back to give him some space.

“Jihan, I’ve messed up,” Jungkook said, sitting back down on the bed, “I-, don’t think I can fix it.”

Jihyo cleared her throat, “It is wrong of me to ask, but did you do it… Cheat on her?”

Tears starting rolling down his cheeks again, “No- I would never! Th-that girl, she asked to be my mistress, a-and I sent her to Min.”

“Min?” Jihyo said, her eyes wide, “So Y/N’s got it all wrong?”

“Hyuna must have said something to her,” Jungkook said, pressing his lips to his sons forehead, “I- don’t know what to do.”

“She’ll be at the ball tomorrow night,” Jihyo said, “She asked for the clothing to still match, that no one must know.”

Jungkook placed Jihan down in his cot, “I haven’t slept since the night before the funeral.”

Jihyo offered him a small smile, “I am sure everything will work out, your majesty.”

Jungkook looked up, his eyes empty and face pale, “I hope so.”

“He choose red. Why did he choose red?”

“He always loved that colour on you.”

“He probably loved that colour on her too.”

The Ball was soon. Jungkook had ordered a dress made for you, a perfect match to his and Jihan’s.

“My darling Prince looks so perfect,” You say, as Chaeyoung tied up the back of your dress, “Rumor has it that Prince Luhan wants to arrange a marriage between his daughter and Jihan. But I will never let him have my son.”

“Eomma!” Jihan called out, sitting happily with Dahyun.

“Jungkook will be here soon to escort you to the Ball,” Jihyo says, poking her head out the door.

You sighed, and sat back in your chair, placing your crown on the top of your head.

“He’s here.”

You stayed still, motioning for Dahyun to bring Jihan to you.

“His Majesty King Jungkook.”

You stood up when the door had closed, Jihan sitting in your arms. You locked eyes with Jungkook, noticing he looked horrible.

“When was the last time you slept?” You asked, worry lacing your voice, before returning back your emotionless expression.

“It matters not,” He says, holding his hand out for you. You go to take it, before hesitating.

“I don’t trust you,” You say, looking away from him.

“Please, Y/N, you must let me explain-“

You put your hand in his, “Another time. Right now we have a Ball to attend.”

You walked down to the throne room, the giant double doors opening.

“Their Majesties, King Jungkook and Queen Y/N, and his Royal Highness, Prince Jihan.”

You entered the room, all eyes on you and your husband. You showed no emotion, just a stoic face, and a cold hand placed in your husbands.

You sat down on your throne, your hand disconnecting from Jungkook’s. You looked down at Jihan, seeing him look around the room in wonder.

“Your Majesties, the Crown Prince and Princess of China.”

“Your Majesties,” They said, bowing to you.

“Prince Luhan,” You say, “It has been a while.”

“That it has, Queen Y/N.”

“I believe the last time you came to visit was when I was ten,” You say, “Much has changed since then.”

Luhan smiled, “Yes, I agree. You are married with an heir, as am I.”

“It is an honor to have you here,” Jungkook says, “Please, let the music begin.”

The Ball went on greatly. You sat in the throne, watching over Jihan, as Jungkook spoke to the Noblemen.

“Your Majesty,” Luhan said, “I was recently in Italy. Their dancing is quite different from ours. Would you mind if I had a dance with your wife, one of the Italian dances, of course.”

“I would mind, actually,” Jungkook said, “I am familiar with the dance, so I will dance with my Queen.”

You eyes shot up, looking to Jungkook in frustration. Dahyun walked over to you, and you handed Jihan to her.

Jungkook stood up in front of you, taking your hand and leading you to the middle of the room.

“I find no pleasure doing this,” You say, curtsying to your husband.

Your hand went up, meeting his as you circled around, “You must listen, please.”

“You have until this dance is over,” You say, Jungkook’s arms coming around your waist.

“I didn’t cheat on you, she came into the throne room asking to be my mistress. I said no, that I loved you more than anything.”

“She made it seem like something else,” You harshly whisper, as he lifted you up, turning around. Your eyes met, “All those times I went to bed earlier than you did, were you with her?”

“I have met that girl once in my life,” Jungkook said, his footwork matching yours.

“My accusations aren’t true then,” You say, biting down on your lip.

“I have not been the best husband for you, that is true,” He says, your bodies inching closer at every passing second, “But I would never lie with another women. No one could make me feel the way you do.”

“The girl, where is she now?” You ask, circling around him, “If she is still here, I will kill her myself.”

“She’s on her way to Min,” Jungkook said, as you both step towards each other, chest against chest, “She repulses me.”

“And do I, repulse you?” You ask, your eyes filling with lust.

“You ignite a fire in me that could never be put out,” He says, the music ending. He met your gaze, eyes flickering down to yours.

You threw your arms around his neck, crashing your lips against his. His arms moved to your face, cupping your cheeks as your hands trailed down his chest.

You broke away, panting and unable to keep your hands off each other. The audience clapped, as you were brought back to reality.

“I won’t be able to hold myself back if we stay in here,” Jungkook says, his hands moving his arms to rest on your hips, “I need you, now.”

You licked your lips, “It’s just guests, they’ll survive without us.”

Jungkook grabbed your hand, dragging you out of the throne room. You stopped every few minutes, and being pushed into a corner as Jungkook’s lips refused to be separated from yours.

Once you finally reached your bedroom, he picked you up, placing you down on the bed. You threw your crown off, doing the same to his as well. He climbed on top of you, his lips connecting to your neck. You whimpered as his teeth lightly grazed your soft skin, sure to leave a mark in the morning.

You placed you hand under his chin, making him lift up his head in response.

“My turn to mark you,” You say, “I want everyone to know, that you are mine. You have always been mine.”

You attach your lips to his neck, pulling on the skin. You knew it would leave a mark for all to see.

“I can’t keep waiting,” Jungkook pants, his hand softly trailing your neck. His hands moved to the front of your gown, ripping open the material.

“Didn’t you just get this made?” You say, arching you back as he continued ripping open your dress in an animalistic fashion.

“I’ll buy you a hundred more,” He says, ripping your corset next. He trailed his lips down your cleavage, his hands massaging your breasts, his thumb circling your nipples, erect from the cold air.

You moaned loudly, bucking your hips up as his teeth grazed your nipple.

“I need you in me,” You pant, undoing Jungkook’s shirt. He threw it over his head, grinding his hard on onto your clothed core. He groaned at the contact, as he ripped through your undergarments. He undid his pants. Pulling them off and throwing them away.

He discarded the rest of his clothing, his fingers making their way to your wet entrance, trailing it up and down as he pumped his length.

“So many nights away from me,” He groaned, lining himself up to your entrance, “Never do that again.”

“Don’t upset me again,” You fire back, before Jungkook thrusted harshly into you. You let a loud moan, feeling all of him inside you, “fuck-“

“Such naughty words for a Queen,” Jungkook said, slamming into you again. You had no prep time, but you enjoyed the slight pain, “Maybe you need a lesson.”

“Don’t push it,” You moan, as he finally began entering you at a fast pace.

His hands were all over you, your legs wrapped tightly around his waist. Having never gone to sleep without him since you had been rescued from Min, the nights you spent apart from him were quite different. You were so used to his toned body holding you every night, that seeing his body now made you feel like you were seeing it for the first time.  

Your hands ran up and down his chest, feeling the soft skin under your fingertips. His thrusts got harder, him reaching the very end of your entrance.

“This pleasure,” Jungkook grunted in between thrusts, “That you give me, will never be replicated or given by anyone else. You are mine, and I am yours.”

He flipped you over, getting you onto all fours. His hands found your waist, and he slammed into you from behind.

“Jungkook!” You moaned out, moving your hips back to meet his thrusts. You knew that you would wake up the next morning, covered in pretty patterns of purple, showing that the Royal Family, is as strong as ever, or at least their King is.

“No one has an effect on me like you do,” Jungkook said, “No one’s body, mind, and soul, is as breathtaking as yours. Not even death could convince me to choose another.”

You kept moaning, not able to reply to him. You knew you would cum soon, but you didn’t want him to know that, knowing he’d become cocky.

He began picking up the pace, pulling against your hips with such force that you felt you might break. One might think that now would be a good time to stop. But it felt so good.

“Y/N, I’m close.”

You moved your hand to your clit, rubbing it in circles. Jungkook noticed, and moved your hand so that he was doing it for you. His breathing grew heavier, and his thrusts became longer.

“Come with me, my darling,” He says, “I know you’re close. Cum.”

On his word, you lost it, moaning his name and bucking your hips back to him. You clenched around him and he went over the edge. He pulled out, and laid you down on your back, spilling his seed onto your stomach and breasts.

He laid down beside you, as you both tried to catch your breath.

“You look so beautiful, covered in my cum,” Jungkook said, using his fingers to get some of his cum off your breast, bringing it to your mouth. You happily licked it off, swallowing it and biting your lip.

“Mmhmm.”

“Do you believe me? That I would never betray you?” Jungkook asked, his eyes growing wider.

You propped yourself up on your elbows, motioning for him to come closer. You pressed your lips to his, pulling on his bottom lip with your teeth as you broke away, “I’m sorry I ever doubted you.”

Jungkook pulled you on top of him, your head tucked under his chin, “It doesn’t matter now. We are back to normal.”

You took in a deep breath, “You promised me you wouldn’t hide away, and you did.”

“I’m sorry-“

“Don’t ever do it again,” You say, “Come on, I’m not sleeping covered in your cum and you’re covered in sweat.”

You stand up, ringing a bell for the maids, before grabbing a lace robe and pulling it over you, passing Jungkook his one in the process.

“What are we doing?” Jungkook asked, standing up to join you. His arms found their natural position around your waist, resting his head on your shoulder.

“A bath,” You say, “Relaxing, intimate, warm.”

Jungkook kissed your neck, before chuckling, “I see some of the marks I left are already making an appearance.”

You smirked, “You should see the ones I left,” You say, tracing them with your finger, “Now every whore, noblemen, royal and peasant in the kingdom will know that you are mine, and mine alone.”

He connected your lips once more, picking you up and pressing you against the wall, your legs around his hips.

“The bath can wait?”

“They won’t mind.”

Please like and reblog if you enjoyed this chapter!!

Anyway have a wall of text about Helpheus -- from first meetings up to the moment he figures out how he fucked up with her and tries to make it right. pre-romance, just laying the groundwork for now. it’ll all be enemies to friends to lovers by the end. and it will hurt.

there’s just shy of 2000 words under the cut why am i like this nobody cares but someone said it would be ‘tasty’ to talk about them at all. so i blame that person. and the fact it’s almost midnight.

Starting with first meetings, of course. 

Hel, a teenager, thrown out of her home by someone she thought loved her, isolated, lied to, gaslighted by Odin. Invited, as a queen, young though she might be, to some affair. Her family is not there -- but of course not. Odin has already told her that her father left with his new wife, and he would not want to see her, the daughter of a lost love. So Hel comes to Asgard tired, and she is angry, and she only wants to go to her chambers and sulk.

But wait! Someone is in her room! Someone is in this place, with its high windows, that was hers in another life. This tall, dark eyed Jotunn, with his black hair wild. And she demands to know what he is doing here. He is in the wrong place at the wrong time -- and she is shouting at the wrong man for it. 

Things are said. Lines in the sand are drawn. No less than Frigg herself intervenes, clasping her hand across Hel's mouth, offering the most fearful and profuse apologies for Hel's behavior. And Hel wants none of it, but she is dragged from the room, denied entry to the one place that was her comfort. 

Before she can say anything to defend herself, gentle, good Frigg is half to slapping her. Asks if she knows who that was. Asks if she knows what she has done. 

Frigg breaks the truth to her like fine china against the face. She's mouthed off to no less than the Third of the Seven. 

Hel's blood runs cold, thinking her days are numbered now, she knows Dream’s reputation and his love of cruelty. This is how she dies. Still, for the sake of politics, she bites her tongue, makes her apologies to Frigg. She swallows her own pride but its another blow to know that nothing in this place is hers anymore. 

 She spends the rest of the affair keeping her distance from Dream or studying him too intently. At one point asks her little kin Thrud if she sees the Jotunn at the front of Odin's table. What Giant, Thrud lisps, that's an Asa with Afi. and Hel knows she's fucked and that really is Dream.

She catches Dream at the end of the delegation, as he himself is leaving. Asks his forgiveness. Says she is sorry for incurring his wrath, and rattles on like a girl, not the queen and diplomat she will become. Dream would have let it slide, because Frigg had pleaded so skillfully and so kindly for the girl and her youth and her struggles. But Hel's apology also paints her afraid of a tyrant, and his pride won't have such disrespect.

So he mocks her again, asks why she thinks Queen Frigg's words were not enough, why her arrogance made her have to say anything at all. And Hel bites her tongue near to bleeding at the naked self-righteousness of his actions. But yes, little queen, he will forgive her, after tonight. She need never worry for his wrath again.

That night, in her own dark hall, she is reunited with her brothers. They are all free. They are back in the Ironwood, where once she was safe and happy. Her mother and father are there, too. She is happier than she has been in years. Everything is right, everything is just what she wants. There is no emptiness in her. 

And then she wakes up, alone in her bed, beneath Yggdrasil, knowing that it was a dream, and she weeps. In this, the Dream Lord has his petty revenge on a girl.

But he does not break his word. After her punishment, all is forgiven, if not wholly forgotten. She grows more solemn, and well-spoken, and she is polite with him, if reserved. He repays the sentiment in kind, in the times when they run into each other at various affairs. She comes to befriend his most beloved sister, and at times they hear of each other, and their affairs, from Death. Neither pays the other much mind.

And then he disappears after centuries of.. acquaintanceship. Things are certainly more chaotic without him, but Hel can hardly notice. She wonders to herself, over the decades, if he has died and if the 7 can ever be 6. He is the great mystery. The only missing persons case in all mythology.

But her returns, at the end of a decade. And it is strange, when she first hears his name in present tense. But his sister is happier for his return, and Hel does not question it. Perhaps sends her regards via messenger with all the others who remind the Dream Lord of their loyalties and alliances.

She owes him nothing and he has no power over her. It's little more than goodwill and acknowledgment of his station.

She has little and less to do with him for nigh a year. When he gains Hell. When he holds his court. It stings at first, knowing Odin so easily forgets her and her realm and its function, not realizing his true intentions with the Christian Hell. Worse still that her father is only freed like a dog upon a chain. 

What cuts her the deepest is the midnight specter, Loki given form before her. He must be a dream thing. Grimnr and Lord Shaper conspire to hurt her, and she knows not why, as if Odin ever needs reason for his cruelty, as if Dream ever, ever did. And she tries to tell him to stop, stop talking with her father's voice, and stop weeping with his eyes, to please get out of her hall and return to whatever master made him. This is a dream, and it settles leaden in the pit of her stomach. It is the crueler mate to Morpheus' prior 'gift' 

Loki pleads his case. and with one question, he proves himself. He is real, and he is not of dreams. Her father is free. She could weep for joy, but they have much to discuss, webs to untangle of Odin's making. She starts to realize the truth, and that Loki spent so long seeking her out, trying to find her brothers. That Odin lied all that time. Her father did so many things up to and including slaughtering Odin's own dearest son to try and send a message, or some regard, something to his only daughter. That he would have fought and died to find his way back to her, to free her and her brothers. That someone out there loved her and ruined himself to try and show it. 

They have all the time in the world for it, as he comes and goes. But that first night, he reveals his liberator.

The Dream Lord.

A creature she has known to be more monster than reason. Perhaps he is, as others say, changing. Perhaps, at the very least, he is not the monster she knew him to be for so long.

It scares her to death, approaching him in his own home, but she must. Debts must be repaid, or named. And half-trembling, she has her audience with him, and thanks him truly for his mercy with her father, and offers herself as ally and tool, if ever he has need of her.

He does. 

Even then, he sees her value as a potential pawn in his long game. At the very least having her loyalty might make Loki more malleable -- what father wouldn’t move the heavens to free his daughter? He accepts her as ally and, should the need arise, an agent of his interests. With that, half of Hel’s business outside of her own realm is concluded, leaving only Odin to be dealt with.

That is what leads her to Asgard in the aftermath. By her mirror, in the way that she swore never to do. She finds Odin's chambers, and she does not make a threat, she is a threat.

Hel coolly, with darkness surging around her because something dead and long atrophied in her still fights to be free, lets him know that she knows. She knows everything now. She knows Bestla's son a liar, a monster, the kind of man who hurts a little girl for no reason but his own need for control and to try and burn fate to the ground. And her eyes are so sickly green against the chiaroscuro of her form. She is jotunn, and that's a primal, brutal thing. 

How can she know? 

And that is when she drops the bombshell of her latest company. The Dream Lord. and Odin realizes an alliance might slip from his hands. And she says that, in Morpheus’ honor, she ought to show Odin how cruel she can be -- she wants his pulse against her palm as she tears his neck from his torso -- and she ought to pay him as he deserves -- long, lonely teeth tearing deep into him -- and so she will. So she will. She says this in parting. She will make the Allfather pray for Ragnarok.

Odin going to Dream for explanations, for why he’s allowed himself some affinity with Odin’s enemy. Dream calmly explaining that he did Hel a good turn after the affair with... Well, Hell, and she saw fit to owe him a boon in return. It will pass. He's sure she's too proud to keep the arrangement long. They discuss it and Dream just 'why do you care about the company she keeps, all these centuries you've told me she's nobody, just a...' 

And it slowly suddenly dawns on him. Oh, she's your prisoner. She's nobody to you. And I encouraged that once. 

So now, in fine Dream fashion, he’s facing the reality that he encouraged what was done to Hel and it's just a modified version of what he himself endured for 70+ years, that Hel was given titles and false power with her imprisonment but it's still that. Helheim is still her cage. 

Dream did nothing when it was first brought up as a possibility, and supported it over the centuries, by not speaking up, by encouraging Odin to keep it up, by never questioning what a child did to deserve being sealed way beneath Yggdrasil. He said that it was acceptable because she was a threat. Because of what she might do when grown, her fate was brutal. To him it was no different than destroying a dream vortex, because Odin did what he had to in order to protect his own. And now sitting on the other side of his imprisonment, Morpheus disgusted.

Dream trying to make up for it. Trying to give Hel some time, some boon, anything that might give her freedom, for however long it might agree with her. He knows her destiny, writ clear in his brother's book. He knows she must have the cage, and the war with Asgard, that he cannot stop this -- but Ragnarok is so far away.

He wants to badly to do whatever he can to keep her from what he encouraged be done to her. He can't apologize for it and she shouldn't accept it but he's not doing this for his ego or his newfound sense of conscience, he's doing it for her, because she never deserved any of it.

It is through this consideration of ways to pull Hel from her own prison that Dream gets the idea to send her on a sort of quest. There is, in fact, something she can do for him -- seek out knowledge of a particular rite from Svartalfheim, that has fallen out of practice. And in this, Hel begins her path towards Dream’s ends.

And if anyone actually gives a shit about any of this, next time I will write out the build up of their romance arc.

Chapter 4

The Princess of the Flower Folk

“Just because someone might have a heart of marshmallow doesn’t mean you or I have the right to shape it for our own sakes.”

At times the laboratory grew unbearably claustrophobic. It seemed shameful for one born in caverns to experience a fear of tight spaces, but somehow the knowledge that there was a greater, wide space beyond the thin walls of her temporary home made something in Philomene itch far beneath her skin. It kept her restless, so she worked as quickly as her back would allow to keep herself focused. It was her own fault, she knew, letting her chambers grow so cluttered. She just couldn’t turn down any of the treasures Marjorie brought back from the Market, even if most of them proved to be magically worthless. The petal of a deep blue flower hung over one window, tinting the light streaming through a sharp violet. The skull of a mouse sat upon the dresser, gleaming white and grinning in a way that made the beast seem fearsome even in death. Twice she’d nearly tripped over something, foolishly risking further injury at a time when she knew she wouldn’t have access to the palace doctor. She only had enough energy to spend her time researching or tidying up, and organizing her “summer home,” as Marjorie had jokingly put it, wasn’t a priority. The mirror helped. A great, jagged shard leaning against the wall of the bedroom-turned-laboratory, it bore a red tinge to it suggesting it had once been activated by blood magic. Even if she hadn’t the distaste for it, Philomene Marl Thumbelina doubted she had enough blood to spare to appease it. Instead she’d learned how to activate it with a chant uttered in the right cadence and tone. It seemed to like rhymes. Without magic texts, she had to rely on trial-and-error. It certainly kept her busy. She looked into the mirror with a frown, sitting on the wooden spool she used as a chair and letting her seashell-shaped dress fall around her as she set her cane aside. Her contact had been quiet for some time, and that always worried her. It wasn’t that Marjorie was under a great deal of threat or danger, though the forest was said to be full of enormous wolves and ravenous bears. There were other things to be concerned about when it came to Marjorie. She sighed and sang a lilting tune. “Broken mirror, ‘gainst the wall. You know who, give her a call.” Like liquid metal, Philomene’s reflection warped into a puddle of lavender before displaying a red glass jewel. Philomene had not figured out how to make the mirror display more than still images, but it could at least transmit sound. The jewel flickered as Marjorie’s voice came over from the other line, low and husky as usual. “Your Highness? Is everything alright in there? Nothing amiss?” Philomene shook her head even knowing Marjorie couldn’t see it, dark braids entwined with violet ribbons falling in her face. “I felt a little tremor earlier and thought I heard thunder for some time, but you know I’m perfectly safe in here. And you’re one to worry me and then sound alarmed when I call! Where have you been? It’s been hours.” “Ah, yes. I apologize, Highness. It was, there was…” The red jewel was still for a moment. “Oh, there’s no delicate way to put it. The owner of the house returned.” “…Oh.” Philomene felt herself deflate a bit. “Well, then. That would explain the thunder and the tremors. I suppose I should prepare us for another move. I can secure everything in a matter of a few hours…” She could already sense how sore she’d be after that much work in so little time, but she knew Marjorie couldn’t really help her. And everything had to be secured; her research couldn’t be compromised by a potentially dangerous escape through the forest. There was no evidence a Sky Island giant would be hostile to a Flower Folk princess, but why take the risk? “No, no! You misunderstand. He’s not G. Chulainn. She? Well, I don’t know whether G. Chulainn was a he or a she but he, the host, is not G. Chulainn.” “…This is good news?” “This is fantastic news! He’s a giant indeed, but there seems to be a heart of gold underneath all that bulk. Or maybe bread dough. Marshmallow candy. The sum of it is we can stay, and I’ve even convinced him to let us keep the bedroom.” Philomene raised an eyebrow at this. It wasn’t that she couldn’t buy the idea of a gentle giant; while she only knew giants in an abstract sense as something great and distant, the sprite princess was well acquainted with large, benevolent beings. It just seemed a bit too easy to be true. And it wasn’t that she suspected trickery on the part of a giant, who would have no reason to hide his nature if he had the famed strength of his kind. “Marjorie.” Marjorie knew that tone right away, it seemed. “I didn’t trick him!” “Marjorie.” “I was honest with him. I even admitted I was in a perilous situation, and I didn’t make up any stories this time.” Philomene cleared her throat. “Marjorie Muller of the House of Fallen Snow.” The full name was a sharp weapon to wield, one Philomene had learned from her own mother. She didn’t like using it lightly, especially not on her best friend. It did seem to work, as Marjorie mock-whimpered on the other end of the mirror. “I may not have mentioned your presence here. It’s possible I neglected to mention it yet. I mean, why burden him with information that’s of no use to him and will just add to his woes?” ‘She means well,’ Philomene told herself as she took a deep breath, feeling blood rush to her face out of frustration. ‘She was trained to use any art possible to protect me. This is for my sake, so I musn’t be spoiled…’ “So he thinks you just…keep a tiny, grand house around? Do humans really do that?” “Dollhouses, Princess! I told you. It has nothing to do with the Flower Folk. He just thinks I have a hobby. And I mean, it’s not a lie! I just don’t know him well enough yet. I can trust him with my life. What if he’s greedy and learns there’s a ransom out there for you? There’s a lot of-” “A lot of dangers out there. I know.” Philomene looked wistfully out the glass window of her home, where she could see the glint of the fireplace. It wasn’t the glorious blue sky she’d seen in those few lucky glances, but after what had happened last time she could hardly blame Marjorie for being overly cautious. That beautiful sky was full of birds, and she never wanted to face that storm of feathers and ravenous screeching again. “You know how I feel about deception," she continued. "Just because someone might have a heart of marshmallow doesn’t mean you or I have the right to shape it for our own sakes. You should at least tell him sometime. You are planning on telling him sometime?” “I’m planning on finding our solution before then! But, well. I do have good news on that front.” Marjorie sounded a little less guilty and defensive, at least. “He’s of the name Kettle. You think it’s ‘that’ Kettle? He is a cook…” “Kettle?” Philomene’s eyes flew to the few books she’d been able to rescue in their hurried escape. She paid no heed to the culinary arts, but there had been a mention of a Wizard ‘Keytl’ in a history book detailing the schools of magic. “It seems like a bit of a long shot. If he’s down here and not in the Sky Islands, he’s probably not all that formidable. But living with a cook wouldn’t be so bad…” “Hey! You don’t like my scrambled eggs? Just because they’re a little burnt…” Philomene covered her mouth and chuckled. “I didn’t mean to insult your cooking, honestly. Crispy eggs are fine. And the blueberry slices made for a fine side dish. You’re honestly too good to me and here I am needling you…” “If you were the sort to accept things without question, I’d be a little less enthusiastic about being your handmaiden. And jester. And bodyguard.” Marjorie sounded as if she were in equally good humor. “Anyway, I’m going to market tonight.” “Again? I told you, the medicine doesn’t work as well if you’re sleep-deprived.” “And if I miss a crucial ingredient or artifact because I’m catching my beauty sleep, the Thumbelina Kingdom pays for it. I mean, oh, you don’t have to worry about me! Really. I’m a big girl, Your Highness, even for a human.” Marjorie’s voice sounded a bit too flippant to be convincing, which didn’t help the knot of guilt that formed in Philomene’s stomach whenever Marjorie’s condition came up. “But if you order me to stay in, I’ll stay…” Philomene clutched the edge of her bell-shaped sleeves and frowned, pulling at the frayed satin fabric. Marjorie would stay if she ordered it; with one word from Philomene, Marjorie would act as if she’d forgotten the very existence of that strange Moonflower Market, and they could proceed with a curse-breaking plan that didn’t involve dealing with witches. But that plan didn’t exist, and like it or not, Moonflower appeared to be their best shot. Without it she wouldn’t have the cowrie shell sitting in the corner of the lab, worn smooth with arcane markings, or the mirror shard, the spindle-needle heavy with fairy magic or the bridge of an enchanted fiddle. That none of Philomene’s experiments on those artifacts and fragments had led to more than curiosities was besides the point; they had led to something, at least. And as a princess, it was her duty to prioritize that over the well-being of a friend who insisted she was fine. “You can go,” she relented, defeat evident in her voice. “But you’re spending the next three nights sleeping. And take your medicine with tea or food! Melchior tells me you’ve been chewing it dry and swallowing it with a little water. It’s not as effective that way.” “Melchi-ugh, that nosy little moth! As you wish, Doctor. I mean, Princess.” The transmission ended seconds later, the image rippling away to reveal Philomene sitting with her soft-slipper shoes hanging over the edge of the wooden spool. She grabbed her cane and eased herself down, dusting herself off and walking over to the wooden block she used as a worktable, having found the miniature Marjorie had carved for her too delicate to be practical for her purposes. She reached over and tied her hair up in a wrap to get it out of the way, rolled up her sleeves and frowned. Sitting on the block was a bean, light green in color, swollen to double its original size from an overnight water bath. If Marjorie worried about her going outside of the dollhouse, this would give the bodyguard-jester fits. Even Philomene had to admit it was completely reckless on her part to have exposed the bean to water, though it hadn’t shown any signs of strange activity or rampant growth. A quick cut had split it right open, revealing it to be a perfectly ordinary bean. Either Marjorie’s hunch was correct and this was another fake, or there was another factor at work. “It’s so strange. Beans, roses, peas…How can something so innocuous as a plant doom an entire city?”

(Author’s note: And hey, here’s Philomene! We’ve almost got the main cast all together.)

Pickup Post #9 - No more sun, no more fun

Well, as you may have guessed, living in the mid-west, it is almost winter, rapidly approaching the official first day on December 21st. The yard sales petered out completely about 2 months ago in mid October, maybe a little earlier. If you recall I mentioned they were already slowing down at the end of August on my last post. All I have left now are thrift stores and work finds to go on. I have decided to stop checking LetGo and OfferUp as a safety measure. Some stories about folks basically being mugged or even shot at those transactions spooked my wife and I and we decided that I not use personal meet up options. This will cut down on the finds yes, but I’d rather be safe than sorry.

We had a really long dry spell these last few months too. While the first game was found back in August, and the second on the first day of September,  everything else shown here were all found after November 1st. The Yard Sale scene dried up only a few weeks after the first was found, and even then was already becoming sparse pickings. Recon was showing next to nothing for video games, and what sales I would hit, wouldn’t have any out, already sold what they did have listed before the sale even scheduled to start (damn swap meet and flea market parasites! Have you no couth!?), or didn’t have any to bring out if I asked. Very discouraging. Must be the area. I see so many people with Youtube channels that can still find tons of stuff in their area, they can still put together videos around monthly. Not here. So this tells you why no posts until now, this is the first time Ive had a good amount of finds to even show.

It’s not to say I have nothing to report, the thrift stores have not been too bad at least for disc based games. This is a pretty good post in the game department, though we are going on about 3 months of stuff here, rather than just one, so that helps I guess. Unfortunately no hardware finds to report, these are all games. But quite a few, so settle in anyway, I have pictures of everything, it’s a long way to the bottom.

I’ll try to put everything in the order I found it, with the date I found it if I have it.

We are going all the way back to the end of August for the first one.

Resident Evil 4 - Wii Edition found 8.21.17 at Goodwill.

Pretty good shape. Disc has some light scratches, but plays the game fine. Some discoloration on the case, it is a little more brown than I’d like so that could stand an upgrade. Manual is pretty crispy, I like to see that.

This one supports a classic controller, which I will probably use if I ever get around to playing it. Alternatively, I may emulate it on Dolphin, both to get a better resolution, and just the ease of using a PS2 controller. Couldn’t pass it up complete in box. $3.21.

Moving on.

Next one is the first of only two Sony console games in the list, the rest are for Nintendo consoles. A little bit of a flip from the beginning of the blog where it seemed like the Sony PS2 finds would go on forever.

Need For Speed Underground - Found 09.01.17 at Goodwill

Not a HUGE NFS fan, but as I stated in a previous post, I did like the Hot Pursuit games back in the day on the PSX. So I’m giving these a chance.

Case and manual are in great shape as you can see. Disc is above average, and it plays fine. It won’t install using HD Loader though, which is weird, but I’m not that worried about it. If anything I may emulate this one as well, I can always rip an image of it with my Mac. From there I can play it that way or manually put it on the PS2 HDD. It was an impulse buy in September, I was desperate after more than a two week dry spell. Little did I know I was in for almost exactly a two month dry spell after that. Regret buying it now? Maybe a little, but we’ll see later when we get to it, maybe it will be a fun play. On to the next.

My son is a Mickey fanatic right now. He has a giant plushy that is almost as tall as he is that he carries everywhere. He watches Mickey Mouse Club House, and Mickey and the Roadster Racers, pretty much daily. So when I saw this one I had to pick it up. If for nothing else to give him a kick out of being able to control his favorite character. Even if he is still too young to even figure out how to get out of the first chamber.

Epic Mickey - Found 11.01.17 at Goodwill.

About as good of shape as Resident Evil 4, no damage to the case, artwork is in good condition, manual is pretty crisp, and the disc has about the same light scratches on it. So it plays fine. Kid loved it by the way.

One thing that made me nervous even before buying it though was this warning on the back of the case:

I do have a modded Wii, I use USB Loader GX with the Home Brew channel to load my games from a 64 GB USB thumb stick. All the games I have loaded are in my collection, I don’t download or pirate games. Everything is legit, and even the images are of MY OWN games. It is simply to make it more convenient, and so I don’t have to handle my games just to play them. So to tell me I can’t play a game on MY OWN Wii simply because it has an innocent mod seemed ridiculous to me.

Until I thought about it a little more.

It is less ridiculous than I initially thought simply because of the fact that I do understand that the mod would allow you to download games and play them, so I can’t be too upset at this I suppose. Nintendo couldn’t do much about the modding community, but they could try and make it more difficult (or so they thought) to play real games on these consoles. Just because I have an ethical line drawn doesn’t mean everyone else does. I’m sure most people would be just as happy and guilt free to download images of any game they want and load a huge drive right up with hundreds of gigs of games. Though making someone not be able to play a real game on a modded console would only encourage someone to download that game instead of buy it, so I feel this was ill advised by Nintendo. In any case, personally, I want to see the same games on the screen that I have on the shelf. Period. The benefits are two fold, convenience, I can switch games quicker, and because it is quicker, I’m not handling them and taking them in and out of the case, possibly causing them to receive more scratches and fingerprints. All good reason in my book.

Anyway, enough of that. Back to Epic Mickey. Sure enough, when I put it in to test it prompted for an update to the system menu, likely looking to reset it back to factory. Which I would not do. I’m not reverting my Wii just for one game. It took a while to get it just right, where all artwork, games, and titles showed up the way I wanted, and played properly. Instead, I opened USB Loader GX and decided to install the game anyway, see if maybe once it was an image, it would bypass this nonsense.

It did. The game plays fine when launched as an image from USB Loader GX. So this is good news. It will make me less leery of other games that have the same or similar warning. Fantastic.

Next up, Wii Play - Found 11.28.2017 at Goodwill

This one was an impulse buy. I saw it in the bin, it’s only worth a few cents more than I paid for it, which was $3.21. According to Pricecharting it comes in at about $3.79 CIB. I am not planning on selling it, and I will buy games worth a lot less, if I am planning on keeping it for myself, plus, I have heard that it can be fun, and it was in absolute perfect condition.

It looked like someone took it out of the wrapper, played it once, and then stuck it on a shelf until they donated it. So I had to snag it, I’m a sucker for games in immaculate condition. This one is perfect. Flawless disc.

Speaking of immaculate condition.

Max Shininess.

Max crispiness.

Max Payne - Found 11.30.2017 at Goodwill

This one also looked like someone took the cellophane off, played it once, then stuck it on a shelf and it sat there until it wound up at Goodwill. I’ve not tried the Max Payne series, and I figured for $3.21, might as well.

It always impresses me when I can pick up a game that is well over a decade old, and it looks like the day it was unwrapped. Just that perfect mirror shine that you can usually only get on a brand new game.

What story does this or any new condition game tell? Did it literally sit on a shelf and not move for 10 or more years before it was swept into a box and brought to Goodwill? Or was the owner just very careful with his or her games, taking really good care of them every time they were played, perhaps loading it on a HDD to play without touching the game further just as I did? Somehow I picture the former more than the latter. But you never know. Here it now sits.

This next one isn’t a great game, or even in great condition, but I was absolutely FLOORED to find any GameCube game at a Goodwill, some others might see it all the time, but I never see that. Gamecube at my Goodwills is like seeing a Unicorn. Often even if you do it is a terrible sports title. This wasn’t a terrible sports title. Maybe a terrible title, that remains to be seen, but it wasn’t sports!

Pac Man Vs. / Pac Man Adventure 2 - Found 11.30.2017 at Goodwill

Unfortunately it is in very rough shape, and is missing a disc.

DOH!

I almost put it back on the shelf, really. Especially when the one player game was the one missing. I can’t even play the game that remained unless I have two people. But I thought, well, they are usually pretty flexible here, maybe I can get it for a buck or two less if I ask.

I asked.

She offered to reduce it down to the DVD price, instead of the video game price. So $1 off. Not terrible, so about $2.13 or so for that one. I decided to snag it anyway. I probably could have argued down to $1, or maybe even free, the manager there is pretty nice. But she was unavailable at the time and it wasn’t worth that much hassle. I got a discount. Can’t complain. Maybe the other disc will turn up at some point in my future hunting.

I did also get an empty Wii Play case for free. This is something any collector should try to do. They typically throw away the game cases that have no games in them, I assume this is true at most Goodwill stores. If one makes it out onto the shelf, or perhaps gets relieved of its disc while on the floor by another, much less scrupulous patron, I bring them to the counter with my purchase. They always let me take them for spares at no charge. Wii Play is certainly not the most valuable game or case to have, especially with having picked up an immaculate copy already, I don’t even need a case upgrade. But any spare case in general never hurts when you are in this business. Beat up cases come along all the time. See the Pacman case above, wish I had a spare one of those. Though double disc cases are a little harder to come by for GameCube though. Only a handful of double disc games on that platform, I think 23 or so the last time I looked. A lot of the Resident Evil games were multidisc, a couple TMNT titles I believe, and I recall a 007 game, and I think a Lord of the Rings game in there. The bonus disc copy of Mario Kart DD had one too. So unless I come across an EMPTY case for one of those 23 or so games, I doubt I get an update for this case. One possibility is I find an empty case for JUST Pac Man Vs. *shrug*

In any case... (ha! pun intended), last from that set, a game I have not played on this platform, and one I have not played in a VERY long time in general.

A remake.

One that does actually look to have been done quite well. At least from what small amount I’ve seen of it so far.

007 Goldeneye on the Wii - Found on 11.30.2017 at Goodwill

I am not sure how I feel about this one. I have always been a very big proprietor of no first person shooters on consoles. Ever. Mouse and keyboard is natural, controllers are clunky, slow, and just generally terrible for FPS games. Because of this I was never a big fan of this game on the N64. But I did play it, I own it, and it wasn’t that bad as a single player game. When it came out, I was big into Doom, Quake and Quake II, especially Quake II death match. Which is insanely fast paced and action packed. For Goldeneye, my friends are like OMG it’s amazing, you have to try this, 4 player death match!

So we play, and I’m having the hardest time aiming, getting shot in the back taking MANY SECONDS to even turn around and shoot back where with the mouse its a twitch of the hand and I’m turned around and firing back at the person. Plus it’s only 4 people, I’m used to 12+ person bloodbaths. I just couldn’t get into it. So the death match / multi player, while what most people would say was the games best feature, fell flat on its face for me.

I had a little more fun with the single player game, the controls you can get used to, and the AI is a little more forgiving to you know, make it possible.

This game has all redone graphics, voice acting, the whole nine yards. Should be an interesting trip down memory lane.

It’s in good shape, crispy manual, case in good shape. Barely a scratch on the disc, can even see the online code that was used to unlock “Classic Conflict Mode”. Not 100% sure what that is, I would have to google it to remember.

Next up, the final two finds from just a few days ago.

Worms: A Space Oddity - Found 12.04.17 at Goodwill

I used to play Worms World Party on the Dreamcast back in the day. Always fun. Especially with friends. This one was not valued very high, even CIB, but I intended to keep this one for myself.

I think Pricecharting has it at about $4.99. So still a deal based on that, I’m sure it’ll be worth a play, and my son likes Angry Birds so he may dig this as he gets older.

Finally, last one for this post, on the same trip as the Worms find, I found this little gem.

Dragonball: Revenge of King Piccolo

Not a Dragonball fan, but when I saw it I knew it had to be at least double digit value. Those anime type games usually have good prices. Sure enough I peeked on pricecharting and it is going for $14.99. Yup, no interest in playing that one but it will be going home with me and straight up on eBay. $15 value is about the minimum I would need to buy something from a Goodwill to sell on eBay. After buying the game for $3, Paypal fees, eBay fees and shipping, even on a DVD case video game you are looking at netting perhaps $7. I’m ok with that, but anything less than that and forget it.

Good condition case, crispy manual, good disc. It should get me a good $6 - $8 in pocket after all fees and shipping. Cover the cost of at least 2, if not 3 more games from the Goodwill down the road.

So that is it for finds on this post. Here’s the recap Pic that I will probably post on Instagram as well. @oldnintendonerd.

The official business. We had eight games from Goodwill at the normal $2.99 plus tax making it $3.21 total. It was Resident Evil 4, Need for Speed Underground, 007 Goldeneye, Epic Mickey, Wii Play, Worms: A Space Oddity, Dragonball: Revenge of King Piccolo, and Max Payne at that price.

Total $25.68

Pac Man was a reduced price totaling $1.99 plus tax at $2.13. Grand total for this set of finds is $27.81.

$83.90 - $27.81 = $56.09 game hunting money remaining.

As for future funds, I still have a loose copy of Mario Kart Wii to put on eBay, as well as the Dragonball game from this post, so we have a chance to recoup at least $10 - $15 of that back. I was just asked about my PS2 bundle which caused me to retest it. unfortunately it is not reading the more beat up discs very well. This is the one I fixed. Still boots right up to games that are closer to like new condition. But it really struggles on the beat up ones. The PS2 I have at home as “My PS2″ boots up these beat up ones just fine. So the one I have for sale appears to be getting tired. I’ll see if I can adjust it some more and get more of the discs to read, if not, I may deeply discount it for her just to get rid of it. Buyer would know full well she’d have to get discs in good shape for them to play is all.

Hopefully the thrift stores keep providing some bounty as the winter months settle in. Though I’m thinking a lot of cleaning and donating doesn’t really get done this time of year, but I’m still hopeful.

I probably won’t post again until 2018 sometime. Hopefully at least once before Yard Sale season really kicks off, but I can’t promise anything. Happy hunting and happy holidays!

2017.12.08

Seoul

November, 2017.

In the original Bladerunner, released in 1982, the signs and advertisements in Los Angeles are written in Japanese. Colin Marshall notes in the LA Review of Books that in the eighties, Hollywood’s vision of the future was Japan, as the country was experiencing an unprecedented, fleeting economic boom. In the new Bladerunner, he points out, we now see signs in Korean. When the director, Denis Villeneuve, looked into his crystal ball, it seems he saw Korea looking back.

I read that article before I went to Korea for the first time and was primed to look for visions of the future. The first clue is in the buildings and public works, which look as though they have just erupted from the earth. The asphalt and concrete look fresh, discordant with the landscape. The maglev line to the Seoul Incheon Airport sits above miles of empty fields, from the middle of which rises the enormous airport, like a spaceship. One of the train stops is at a place called Paradise City, which looks to be an unfinished entertainment complex, with skyscrapers full of empty rooms.

A metro line leads from the airport to Yongsan Station, near the National Museum of Korea, where I immediately notice Korean soldiers and sailors milling about the concourse in their fatigues. They are also on the train, on the sidewalks, checking their phones, holding hands with people not in uniform. They are all terribly young.

In the best sci-fi stories, the future isn’t uniformly sleek. There are always rough protrusions into an otherwise crisp vision. In Seoul the young soldiers are the first clue that a balancing act is at work. That feeling is compounded when I take a train to the museum and exit by the gates of an enormous military base, surrounded by concrete fences, traffic barricades, and barbed wire. These are everywhere throughout Seoul, because the future in Korea is plagued by the twentieth century, in the form of the world’s most vexing brutality: the North. This base is special. It is the Yongsan Garrison, the headquarters of the American military in South Korea.

At the museum I spend several hours looking at Korean national treasures, surrounded by teenagers taking selfies in front of gold crowns, ancient horse ornaments, and sculptures. Outside on the porch I sit near a young couple drinking red frappes, and she begins choking on her drink. She eventually catches her breath. She is fine, we’ve all been there. But this normal scene is interrupted by a thundering noise nearby. I can’t figure out what it is or where it’s coming from until I turn from her and see that it is an enormous black helicopter rising lazily from the base. It moves slowly upward against the skyline before tilting toward the skyscrapers and flying off.

The main thing I know about Seoul is that it’s full of plastic surgery clinics, which I somehow don’t notice. What I do notice is the way people act on the trains. In Japan it’s considered rude to eat, talk, or drink on public transportation. In Korea it’s not, which is refreshing. Whenever we enter a tunnel and the windows go black and reflective, I notice people using them as mirrors. They gently touch the corners of their eyes and mouths, move a few strands of hair into their right place and then back, adjust the folds of cloth on their shoulders, before we burst back into the light. Japan is fashionable, but Korea is another level. It reminds me of the first time I went to California and realized I was among The Beautiful People. In Seoul, there are floor length mirrors in the subway stations, just in case the adjustments on the train aren’t enough. In every bathroom men flock to the mirror to flick a little water into their hair, tousle it, take a step back, check out the whole situation, and leave. People on the street look good. Their hair is perfect, their clothes are perfect. It’s intimidating to someone who picks his outfits out of a pile in the bathroom.

Military service is compulsory for all men in South Korea. A friend who grew up in Korea said that when she was younger, in school, her class toured a base. “We couldn’t wear short skirts or anything like that, because it would tempt the soldiers,” she said. Cigarette drag, then, knowingly, “you know, all the guys in South Korea go to boot camp.”

***

My friend Heidi told me that there was a dress code on DMZ (demilitarized zone) tours, so I wear a tie. When we arrive at the USO station at Camp Kim in Seoul at 7:45 on Saturday morning, I am the only person who made that choice. It is a bright, cool autumn morning, and we’ve only slept for a few hours each. We get into a van which takes us to a tour bus in another part of the city.

The trip from Seoul to the DMZ is a little over an hour, mostly along a series of wide rivers fortified with barbed wire and lookouts. Where we are going is to the four-mile-wide zone used for rare diplomatic contact between the two countries. The letters D, M, and Z feel themselves harsh and clinical, and when I tell people about my trip they often confuse these letters with DMV. It’s fitting, in that both places share a quality of processing and management, of human forms moving through clean and unfriendly zones. A zone is not a place. It’s the end of a place, a non-place, the suggestion of a place. In the case of the DMZ, the suggested place is North Korea.

From the bus we see the forms of the soldiers along the fence line, near the river. It looks gray and cold outside. This grim landscape clashes with the atmosphere of the bus, which is comfortable and full of other foreign tourists. Our guide is a woman named Michelle, who is firm and informative.

Going to the DMZ evokes many feelings, but fear isn’t one of them. I have no idea, for example, that the DMZ is such a tourist trap. We stop at a “unification park,” which consists of a parking lot, a large bell, a small amusement park (complete with a swing ride), and a bunch of food stalls. Reunification, the idea that the two Koreas will once again be one, is the buzzword of the trip. It is a seemingly reverent concept but is tossed around on the DMZ tour like any other slogan, the way that “freedom” might be brought up at an NFL game before an American Idol contestant wails the national anthem. Michelle’s impartial remove slips when she mentions “kids learning about reunification or something” on the tours. Or something. Reunification, whatever. Blah, blah, blah.

She goes on, “People speaking the same language should be united,” but explains that the Koreas have not only totally different accents but also, at this point, different dialects. Korean spoken in the South is, like Japanese, peppered with foreign borrowed words, words which have basically been sealed off from the North for decades. She says that the younger generations now have no concept of a single Korea, as people did in the past. Instead it’s two completely separate countries. She says that when Northern spies infiltrate the South, which is often, they must first undergo years of language training in order to blend in.

The next stop on the bus tour is Tunnel Number Three, so named because it is the third tunnel bored from North Korea and discovered by the South, in the seventies. We learn that thirty thousand soldiers could have moved through the tunnel and begun an assault on Seoul. We learn that other undiscovered tunnels must exist. We get helmets and walk through the tunnel, until we encounter a barricade and an illuminated, flooded chamber, beyond which is North Korea. The most stressful portion of this excursion is discovering that we had to pay extra for the tram ride back to the surface.

We watch a video about the tunnel’s discovery. The finale of the video takes a strange turn, to images of wildlife. We are told about the pristine natural beauty of the DMZ, the abundant animal and plant life, to soaring music. The object is propaganda, but I can’t understand what the filmmakers are trying to communicate. In Japan and America we are told to be afraid of North Korea, and yet here we are just miles away from it, watching a video about birds. “There’s a crazy young leader in North Korea,” Michelle says on the bus, but, “if people panic, life cannot go on.”

Heidi makes a telling point: “This is all in English.”

On the bus we make the final approach to the viewing station, a few miles back from the border. There is a wooden cutout of a soldier outside that we can take pictures with. There is a real soldier smiling and taking pictures with tourists. We approach the edge of a balcony which looks over a green valley, and some of the trees are changing color. In the distance we see tiny buildings. Michelle points at one. “From here, do you see the small building on the hill? That is a  North Korean guard post.”

There is music screeching. At first I think it’s ambient music for the overlook, but then I realize that its volume is not meant to be enjoyed up close. It’s meant to travel long distances. The South Korean army maintains enormous batteries of speakers from which it blasts K-pop toward North Korea, in an effort to tempt people across the line. I have to raise my arms over a huge crowd of tourists to get a video.

We make out the most famous structure on the North Korean side: a giant flag pole. The North Korean flag on it is twenty-five meters wide, and “on a day with good weather you can see it waving,” according to Michelle. But the weather isn’t good. The valley is choked in a thick haze, allegedly from China (in Japan and apparently Korea, haze is always blamed on China). I think of Kim Jong-Il’s famous directive to “envelop our environment in a dense fog” to confuse and delay foreign powers from discovering anything about the North. Heidi says it looks gross.

Back on the bus, we pass the Camp Greaves Youth Hostel, which used to be an army base but has been converted for overnight tours. Along the road I see a black and white songbird land on a shed. Its tail is long and black and bobs metronomically. It really is a beautiful bird.

***

Back in Seoul, we are staying with a friend at her place in the middle of the city. We spend that evening getting ready in the apartment, over wine and music. The scene is familiar. Her furniture is ratty and splendid. She crimps her hair with something she says will make it look like a mermaid’s, which it does. Sometimes my vision floats out and takes a look at what’s happening. Someone, twenty-five and gay, in Seoul, with his best friend, with a new friend, sprawled on old furniture in an apartment with peeling paint. She passes him eyeliner while she puts on her foundation.

We drift to the gay district, Homo Hill, which is ecstatic. Asia is slow to the uptake on gay rights. Taiwan just legalized gay marriage and the dominoes are going to fall very soon. All gay bars are oases, but in Japan and Korea they are especially so, because they are even more refuges than the ones at home. The smoke machine is on. Through the fog and the pink and blue lights you can see the joy and relief in people’s faces, the joy of being together, dancing together, leaving together. Back in the apartment, we talk about the DMZ, about how strange it was to be there and actually see North Korea. It actually exists. And it couldn’t be any more different than what’s happening here. A strange place to be, I say, looking—

Our friend holds the crimp aside, finishing my sentence: “—at an abyss of misery.”

It’s time to go out, and I can’t stop thinking about where we just were. And this: we barely hear about the twenty-five million people who live in North Korea. People who wake up, say good morning, ride trains, fall in love, have sex, eat, fight, cook, laugh, exist. Or are imprisoned. Tortured. Murdered. It’s horrible. It’s unnatural. And yet what can I do? I can take a tour, which helps no one, to the border. I can take photos of the mountains, the barbed wire, the young soldiers. I can walk to the overlook and hear the K-pop howling into the autumn abyss. Into Hell. And on the balcony all I can do, all there is to do, is look across the valley, look into the fog, look at the not-so-distant buildings and know, it must be so, that someone there is looking back at me.

—Seoul