#doomed to the embarrassment of whatever the fuck i spell wrong

[grandlinedreams]

In case y'all didn't know by the occasional tweaks i don't have a beta to read through it wkdjdjd

#no beta we die like men #doomed to the embarrassment of whatever the fuck i spell wrong #ㅡtalk.

[weirdmageddon]

i posted this on twitter also but it’s still eating at me. i’m so fucking embarrassed to be jewish rn. i dont want to be associated with this ongoing bullshit from israel. why do we need our own state. theyre just making every jew across the globe look bad in general even though many of us are conflicted about zionism and the legitimacy of israel as a state

people have hated jews throughout history for no fuckin reason but now israel exists but now its like. GIVING people reasons to hate us as a group. note that i DON’T conflate zionism with jewishness, but a lot of people in the world don’t know the difference because theyre uninformed and been dripfed cultural antisemitic tropes their whole life and that’s the scary part is them falsely putting two and two together. like what the fuck israel stop youre just putting fuel on the fire for people around the world to hate an entire group of historically persecuted people if youre being this shitty with your insane colonialism and apartheid like……I Want No Fuckin Part Of This. you’re spelling our own doom. you cant just swoop in and go “mine now” and then oppress the people you took land from under a regime without my blood boiling at the injustice no matter WHO you are. even if my lineage is tied to you. so when news outlets support israel it doesn’t feel like they have the best interest of jews as a people in mind. it’s in the interest of a zionist ethnostate and whatever that christian zionism belief is about the jewish people returning to the holy land as prerequisite for the second coming of jesus. its not like they care about us as a dispersed ethnocultural group, it’s all for that religious narrative that a bunch of people in the US are backing.

saying you want all jews to die is antisemitic. beating someone up because they’re jewish and no other reason without knowing their views is antisemitic. criticizing human rights violations perpetrated by israel and the belief that one group deserves more rights another is not antisemitic. and the fact that israel has the ability to pull that antisemitism card in response to criticisms of the violations they commit because their state is the “jewish homeland” drives me fucking insane. take fucking accountability for your actions. and yes, there do exist full-on anti-jewish groups in the middle east that go beyond hatred of israel’s policies and existence as a state and i’m tired of people pretending there aren’t in fear of appearing to seem like they support the state of israel. on the other side of things many people overestimate this by fearmongering and saying EVERY arab is out to get jews worldwide, telling people like me “they want YOU dead”. this is not the belief every person in the middle east and it really rubs me the wrong way that people group millions of individuals into all-encompassing lumps like this. many people there do understand nuance of this political situation.

even if i have that “right of return” by israeli law or whatever, i don’t feel obliged to it; it does not register as fair. why do i have a “right of return” when i’ve never even been there in the first place while palestinians who have homes there can’t return to them? what’s the basis for that? substituting objective reality with an imaginary reality? i don’t think like that. i can hypothetically come and go whenever i please but palestinians are severely limited in mobility? what makes me more entitled to that land than the people who lived there for centuries? nothing that comes from natural law thats for sure. it’s all artificial and inflated.

but at the same time i also dont want to be the target of antisemitism and caught in the fray just for being ethnically jewish. once people start calling for the genocide of entire groups we’ve got issues (and you better believe this absolutely applies to the palestinian victims in gaza too), because people who dissent to the violence perpetrated by the loudest are caught in there with the people who are perpetrating the violence. lack of nuance. people conflating israel and its zionist apartheid policies with jewish ethnicity and culture worldwide. other people conflating being terrorist anti-jew with muslims worldwide (like that 6-year old palestinian-american boy that was just stabbed to death in chicago). scary times man. but as a jew i can’t just opt out of this if it’s how i was born as. i don’t have control over that. but i can control what i think and what my beliefs are

#israel palestine conflict #israel #palestine #what i feel is right most strongly resonates with secular humanist philosophy #never really found the right way to explain my worldview until i read about it

[fanmoose12]

to know your enemy

Hange glanced at him briefly – Levi stood with his hands behind his back, his head raised up high. Their eyes met – just for a second – but it was enough to calm her nerves.

Captain Levi was not an ally, most certainly not her friend, but amidst all foes, he was the only thing that gave her comfort.

A citizen and a loyal soldier of a country that wanted her dead, Captain Levi was the sole source of light in her life during these dark times.

Or, a Marleyan!Levi au

The cell they’ve put her in was cold. The wall she was chained up to was damp. A pool of something sticky and putrid beneath her legs was making her nauseous. It had a characteristic metallic smell that after years of being a soldier Hange knew all too well. She hoped, at least, that the blood wasn’t hers.

A single torch, hanging on the wall outside, behind the metal bars, was the only thing illuminating the cell. It was dark inside, but not dark enough for Hange not to distinguish a figure, looming over her.

She recognized him right away.

“Commander Hange,” Floch curled his lips in a cruel, bloodthirsty smile. “It’s so good to see you here.”

“Ah, the pleasure is all mine!” Hange replied, looking so cheerful and relaxed, as though she was sitting behind the desk in her office back at home, not chained and locked up in the darkest, deepest cell of Marleyan prison. “You know, I always wanted to visit the country I’ve been fighting against for so long. And you provided me with a perfect opportunity to take a much needed vacation!”

“My god,” the smile slipped from his lips. Floch’s expression changed to that of a complete distain. “You really are insufferable. It isn’t a surprise that Eldians are losing in this war, if you’re their Commander.”

“My soldiers don’t really complain. Much,” she grinned, showing her bloody teeth. Despite her high status back in Paradise, her Marleyan captors weren’t gentle or cautious with her. She gave them all the reason for that kind of treatment. “But I guess you know it already. Not that long ago, you were one of my soldiers too."

Floch seethed. "And as a Commander, you’ve disappointed me."

"Aw, you poor thing," Hange cooed, angering Floch even further. “I’ve disappointed you? That’s why you’ve decided to betray your country and your comrades? That’s why, while fleeing, you’ve killed several of my men?”

“I did not betray you, I merely switched sides. Unlike you, I prefer to stick to the winning team.”

“Or you’re just a scumbag with no sense of loyalty.”

“Shut up!” Floch surged forward, grabbing Hange by the collar. “You, Commander, who is dooming your own people with reckless decisions, what do you know about loyalty?”

“Apparently she knows more than you do,” spoke a cold, indifferent voice.

It had an immediate effect on Floch. His face palled and his lower lip began to tremble. He bit it to hide his unease from Hange’s sharp eyes.  

He didn’t release his hold on her collar, though, and continued to glare stubbornly at her.

“Floch,” the man stepped out of shadows. Hange swallowed as she watched him. He was short, but his face was menacing enough to more than make up for it. “Are you that slow? Do I really need to spell it out? Let Eldian Commander go.”

“But—”

“No buts,” the man growled. He grabbed the back of Floch’s shirt, yanking him back hard. “You weren’t even supposed to be here, so get the fuck out.”

It was obvious – Floch wanted to argue, but one look from his superior officer and he surrendered, taking a step back from Hange and letting her go. He gave her one last look, filled with hatred, and then left.

Like a dog with its tail between its legs, Hange thought with no small amount of amusement.

After Floch’s departure, she was left alone with the unexpected savior. Hange stared at him, warily, waiting for his next move.

He stepped closer to her, and her eyes widened in surprise, when he raised his hand to unlock her shackles.

“Um,” Hange scrunched her face in confusion. “What are you doing?”

“You aren’t supposed to be here either,” the man explained with a roll of his eyes. “It was another one of Floch’s stupid stunts. This level of dungeon is made to hold rapists and murderers.”

A sparkle of curiosity ignited in the deepness of her honey brown eyes. Hange tilted her head, staring at the man beside her. “I’m sure most of your people would argue that I’m both.”

“I’m not most,” he scoffed. “And your crimes are not bigger than any of our soldiers.”

“Huh,” the last of her shackles fell down and Hange absentmindedly rubbed her freed wrists. “And here I thought that all Marleyans are pricks with a superiority complex. You proved me wrong,” she paused, not able to fight off a smile. “Captain Levi Ackerman.”

“So my reputation precedes me,” he sighed with a disgruntled expression. “Follow me,” he added, leading her out of the cell and down the dark, empty hallway. “And here,” he thrusted something in her hands. With a sense of bewilderment, Hange realized it was a handkerchief. “Wipe the blood off your face.”

“Oh,” Hange awkwardly chuckled. She could have used her own sleeve, but… it was kinda nice of him to offer. “Thanks. And about your reputation, yeah, you’re quite famous back at the island,” she easily fell into step with him. “Although, I admit it was hard to recognize you with all these scars.”

“That’s a courtesy of your soldiers and your deadly inventions, Commander.”

“You’re off from active duty, I take it? My men have a chance at winning this war then.”

“Had to step down from my position,” Captain said grimly. “My mother worried too much.”

“And they say Marleyans aren’t funny,” Hange opened her mouth, the cheerful laughter ready to bubble out of her throat, but then she stopped, gawking at the Captain. “Wait…” she asked cautiously. “You aren’t joking?”

“Marleyans aren’t funny,” he retorted in dead-pan voice.

This time, Hange did laugh.

“Here,” Captain led her into another cell. This one - sufficiently illuminated and with more than enough space to contain not only essentials, but a desk, a chair and even a bookshelf – was drastically different from the last.

“Wow,” Hange whistled. “This cell is almost as good as my office. Are Marleyans that welcoming to all of their prisoners?”

“Doubt you’d be feeling much at home here,” Captain Levi huffed. “Zeke is very eager to chat with you.”

“The infamous Zeke Yeager wants to talk with me? I’m impressed.”

"Just wait until he starts bragging about his royal heritage and other shit. You won't be that impressed after that."

"Well," with a grin, Hange plopped down on a bed that stood in the corner of the cell. Something was very, very wrong with her, but the company of Captain Levi was... actually enjoyable. "Will you be there to witness it?"

"A chance to see Zeke embarrass himself in front of an enemy war chief?" something that almost resembled a smile appeared on Captain's indifferent face. "Wouldn't miss it for the world, four-eyes."

***

“I’ve heard what Floch had done,” Zeke lowered his eyes and shook his head. Hange had to give it to him – he looked almost genuinely sincere. “He wasn’t acting on my orders, please believe me.”

“I know more than anyone how hard it is to rein in Floch. I took no offense, don’t fret.” Hange lifted a cup of tea Zeke brought her and looked at it skeptically. Then with the same expression of doubt, she turned her gaze back to him. “It’s safe to drink this, right?”

“Can I call you Hange?” Zeke asked. “I feel like we’re so alike, there is no need for titles.”

“Sure,” Hange shrugged. “Call me whatever you like.”

Zeke nodded, a pleased smile breaking on his face. “I would never scoop so low as to poison you, Hange,” he answered. “Meeting you is a great honor. I hope you enjoy this time as much as I do.”

Hange raised her gaze, looking over Zeke’s shoulder and exchanged a look with Captain Levi. He was wearing an irritated expression, and when their eyes met, he lifted an eyebrow, as though to tell Hange ‘I told you so’.

She hid a smile behind her cup.

“So what do you want to know?” she focused her attention back at Zeke. “The number of our troops? The location of strategic sights? How many times a day I take a shit?”

There was a sudden coughing sound, and as Hange looked up, she saw that Captain Levi turned around, his shoulders shaking slightly.

“I don’t think you understand the severity of your situation,” a smile slipped from Zeke’s lips. He obviously wasn’t as amused by her witty comeback as his Captain. “I may be kind and polite to you, but you’re still my prisoner.”

“And I don’t think you understand that I don’t give a fuck about that. Do whatever you like, Zeke. I won’t tell you anything.”

Zeke narrowed his eyes, glaring at her. “Enjoy your stay in Marley.” He declared between gritted teeth. “I’ll be seeing you again very soon.”

He rose to his feet, almost knocking a chair to the ground. Hange took a sip from her cup, watching how Zeke stormed out from her cell.

“Don’t take your eyes off her,” he instructed Levi. He muttered something else, something that sounded almost like a curse and then left.

“Wow.” Levi breathed out, when the sound of Zeke’s heavy footsteps disappeared. “I have to admit, you’re something else, four-eyes. I spent years, getting on his nerves, but five minutes with you? And he already calls ‘a fucking Eldian scum’? You’re force to be reckoned with.”

“And that was just our first meeting,” laying chin on her hand, Hange sighed dreamily. “What a nice guy. Can’t wait to see more of him.”

***

“Why are you here?”                                            

Levi was leaning against the wall opposite from the cell Hange was contained to. As soon as the question left his lips, Hange looked up, closing the book she was reading.

An amused grin spread on her lips. “I’m sort of a prisoner here, didn’t you know?”

“I didn’t mean that,” Levi rolled his eyes, pushing himself off the wall and taking a step closer. “How did you get here? How did you get captured?”

Hange frowned, scratching her head. “Haven’t you read the report?”

Levi did, more times that he could count. He read it again and again, trying to piece together the reasons for Hange’s behavior. Trying to understand why did she act the way she did.

“Ship Wings of Freedom was spotted near Marleyan borders.” Levi effortlessly recited the beginning of report. “According to the statement from Eldian Commander Hange Zoe, they were trying to launch a surprise attack at Odiha port. The ship was ambushed before Eldians could charge an assault. The only person, who was discovered at the ship’s board and, subsequently captured, is Hange Zoe, war chief and main engineer of Paradise Island.”

“So you did read it, huh?”

“Obviously, you couldn’t be the only person on that ship.” Levi contemplated aloud. “And that means you let your soldiers escape. Why did you stay behind?”

“Someone had to create a diversion,” Hange explained so easily, as though it was a simple, trite matter and not something Levi was obsessing over ever since she was placed under his care.

“Anybody could have done it,” Levi moved closer, touching the metal bars of the cell with his chest. His cold grey eyes bored into Hange. Perhaps, if he looked hard enough, he’d be able to see it. He’d be able to understand her. “Certainly, there were other less valuable soldiers than you.”

“Exactly. I was the most valuable one. And that meant your men would think twice before killing me.”

“You stayed behind… let us capture you, because… you wanted to save your squad?”

"Well, when you put it like that..." Hange giggled, a little embarrassed. "It sounds like I'm the worst Commander ever."

She couldn't have been further from the truth. In his life as a soldier, Levi had seen his fair share of Commanders. Some were awful, while some were much better. And, as far as he could judge, Hange was the best of them all. With just one act, she showed Levi what a real Commander must look like. Self-sacrificing, fearless and loyal not only to the country they’ve served, but to their soldiers as well.

If only things were different, Levi couldn't help but think, I would have happily followed you.

"Don't you regret it?" he asked. "Leaving your soldiers without your guidance?"

"They'll manage," Hange said without an ounce of incertitude in her voice.

"You're so confident in your subordinates?"

"They're the best of the best," a proud smile curled at her lips. Hange sat back in her chair, putting hands behind her head. "Just wait until they regroup. Mark my words, Captain. They’ll crush Marley in to time."

Marley had the biggest army in the world. They had the most advanced technology. They’ve conquered several countries. They were considered an indestructible, imperishable Empire.

And if there was anyone who could stand a chance against his motherland, Levi was sure - this fit could be achieved exclusively by the soldiers who were trained and tutored by Commander Hange Zoe.

"All this bragging about your squad," a smirk pulled on Levi's lips, amusement painting his usually stoic features. "Are you trying to recruit me, Commander Hange Zoe?"

"Why," Hange gave him a sly grin, raising her eyebrow. "Is it working?"

Levi snorted. "You have to do better than that to sway me, Commander."

"Ah, a shame," she giggled. "We could have used your skills, Captain."

"Need I remind you that you don't have an army right now?"

“It’s true, I don't. Right now. But who knows what is going to happen next?"

There was a small, but enigmatic smile on her lips, and fire inside her eyes burned brighter than the torch he was standing next to. Her expression made Levi realize that not all prejudices about Eldians were wrong. Hange proved that the old Marleyan saying - Eldians always have a trick up their sleeves – could actually be true.

It was obvious that she had some kind of a plan. And it was obvious that she was confident in its success. Rooting for her was wrong, some could even interpret it as treason.

And yet— a part of him hoped that she – and her people – would succeed.

***

Levi unlocked the door, stepping inside. The moment he crossed the threshold, a pair of gentle arms wrapped themselves around his neck.

"Levi," his mother pressed him tightly to her chest. "Welcome home."

"Sorry for being late," he whispered gruffly. He pressed his face into her neck, inhaling the familiar and dear scent of chamomile and lavender. "I had so much paperwork, I was practically swimming in it."

"My poor boy," Kuchel ruffled his hair and took a step back, releasing him from her embrace. "Take off your shoes and go wash your hands. I'll heat up dinner for you."

"Thanks," Levi said, shrugging off his formal coat and undoing his tie. As he stripped his uniform, breathing came a little easier.

"So?" Kuchel put a plate with broth in front of Levi and sat down next to him. "Is it true? Did they really capture Eldian Commander?"

"Yeah," Levi nodded, after he swallowed the first spoon of broth. "I've been assigned to watch over her."

Kuchel perked up. "And? Is she as terrible as they say?"

"No." Levi held the spoon a little tighter. He pursed his lips, staring in his plate with a faraway look. “She’s not terrible at all. Quite the contrary. I know that it’s wrong but… I think she’s a good person.”

"Eldian Commander?"

"Yes. Hange. She's my enemy, I know that. And I know that I must despise her, but... She's so good, mom. She's brave and she cares about her people, and... I can't help but think if this," he gave a vague gesture, "our lives - would have been better if people like Commander Hange were in charge. It makes me think… maybe, Kenny, that old bastard, was right."

"Honey..." Kuchel lovingly patted his cheek and exhaled, her beautiful grey eyes filling with sadness at the mention of her late brother. "During times like this, it’s hard to know what’s wrong and what’s right. Isn’t it wrong to kill people? Isn’t it wrong to hate an entire nation just because we don’t share the same name? They’re people just like us. Just like us, they can be good or bad. It's easier to hate them, to see them as monsters that need to be slayed. Doesn't mean that it's true. And if you see your enemy as someone worth of admiring, if you can forget about you differences and see just another person, isn’t that a good thing? Isn’t it something we should aspire to? You’re a kind and good man, Levi. And if there were more people like you… maybe, we wouldn’t be fighting this war at all.”

Silence fell over the small kitchen room. Levi thought about his mother’s words, he tried to imagine a world she was talking about. A better, kinder world with no hatred and prejudices. A world, where peace and happiness were more prevalent than war, starvation and poverty.

A world like this would have been nice. But sadly, it was nothing more than utopia.

“Well, that was enough philosophical monologues for one evening!" Kuchel chirped, jumping to her feet. "Quickly, eat the broth before it gets cold. I'll brew you a cup of tea in the meanwhile."

Levi complied, diving into his dinner. From the corner of his eyes, he continued watching his mother move around the kitchen. She stood on her tiptoes, reaching out to the higher shelf. As she did so, the sleeve of her dress rolled up, revealing an ugly, purple bruise around her wrist.

He was by her side in an instant.

"What is this?" he hissed, carefully lifting her arm. Kuchel looked at him, her eyed widening in alarm. "What is this?" Levi repeated, even though he already knew the answer.

"Honey-"

"Did that bastard do it?" he let go of her hand. His anger was growing and he didn't want his mother to become an accidental victim of it. He turned around and started to pace around the room. "I'll go to him." He declared, his whole body shaking with rage. He spoke quietly, but every word was filled with cold, merciless fury. "I'll kill that scumbag with my bare hands, I'll make him regret ever touching you."

"Levi!" Kuchel rushed to him, cradling his face in her palms. "Levi, calm down. This was just an accident. He apologized and it would never happen again, I swear."

In the arms of his mother, Levi's fury had lessened. He stared at her, as another feeling took its place instead of anger. The feeling of helplessness and despair.

"You can't continue seeing this bastard,” he said, almost pleading. “He hurts you, and I can't watch it happen."

"My boy," Kuchel kissed his forehead. "My Levi, we don’t really have a choice, remember? But, please, don’t worry about me, I’m doing alright. As long as you're with me, everything is going to be just fine."

"That was the last time," Levi promised, the fire returning to his gaze. "It was the last time he hurt you. General or not, if he ever does it again, I'll kill him. I'll kill him even if that would be the last thing I do. I won't let anyone make you suffer."

“Levi…” Kuchel sighed, quietly and warily. She lowered her hands and turned away, hiding the pain inside her eyes from Levi. He watched her back, his chest tightening. In that moment, his mother looked so small, so fragile. Levi despised the man who made her feel this way and his uncle, who put them into this mess. He despised their world for making her suffer so much.

And more than anything, he despised himself for not being able to protect her.

***

Hange's next meeting with Zeke was vastly different from the first. Instead of a small, suffocating cell, it was conducted in a large, spacious room with big windows and high ceilings.

And as Levi had led her inside, she was astonished to see that Zeke wasn't alone. The other generals - probably the entire main body of Marleyan brass - were waiting for her arrival.

All these attention to the little, insignificant her? And they say Marleyans aren't charming...

“Gentleman!” she greeted with a blindingly bright smile on her lips. There was a chair in the middle of the room, and she plopped down on it, still wearing the same happy expression. “Good day to all of you!”

Levi took his place just behind her shoulder. Hange glanced at him briefly – he stood with his hands behind his back, his head raised up high. Their eyes met – just for a second – but it was enough to calm her nerves.

Captain Levi was not an ally, most certainly not her friend, but amidst all foes, he was the only thing that gave her comfort.

A citizen and a loyal soldier of a country that wanted her dead, Captain Levi was the sole source of light in her life during these dark times.

“So?” Hange put hands on her knees, her gaze studying each member of Marleyan brass carefully. “What did you call me here for?”

“I’m sure you already know,” Zeke, who sat at the center of the table, took the word. He seemed more controlled than during their last meeting, and a confident smile has returned to his lips. “We haven’t finished our earlier conversation.”

Hange arched an eyebrow. “Still interested in my shitting techniques?”

“No.” Zeke answered grimly. A few surprised chuckles came from his colleagues around the table, and Hange could almost hear the sound of his teeth gritting against each other in frustration. “That’s not what I wanted to talk about.”

“We are more interested in other aspects of your job,” a man that sat next to Zeke spoke. “My name is Winston Greeves, it’s nice to meet you, Commander. Now,” he leaned closer, prepping his chin with his hand. “Is there something you wish to tell us? Something related to the state of your troops, perhaps?”

Hange lifted her head and tapped her lower lip with a finger. “Is there something that I wish to tell you…” she murmured pensively. “I guess I can tell you how much I’ve been enjoying your country and your hospitality...”

“Again, that’s not exactly what we want to hear ,” Greeves said, and the easy smile that was plastered on his face just moments ago became a little too tight around the edges.

“I would stop this farce, if I were you,” Zeke spoke again, his voice low and almost growl-like. “Unlike your barbaric, primitive island, Marley is a civilized nation, but that doesn’t mean we’re above using techniques that would undoubtedly untie your tongue.”

“Was that supposed to frighten me?” Hange asked with a bored, unimpressed look. She took off her glasses, wiping them with the sleeve of her shirt and looking at Zeke beneath her eyebrows. “Do better next time, Zeke. You think that threats would work on me? You think that promise of pain would make me submit? You think that there is anything you can do to me that will make me betray my own country? I surrendered willingly to you, idiots, I knew exactly what was going to happen to me. And I knew that I wouldn’t be getting out of it alive.”

“You’re right,” Zeke nodded. “You won’t survive. You will die, Hange Zoe. You will die regretting your loyalty and devotion. You will die, but not before you spill out to me every last one of your secrets.”

“Till our next meeting,” he promised darkly, gesturing Levi to take her away.

***

"Zeke's nice guy persona is slipping," Hange muttered, as Levi led her back to her cell. "I wonder what this sudden urgency is all about..."

Levi pursed his lips, thinking. He probably shouldn't say this to Hange. It was classified information, known only to the highest members of brass. If anyone finds out that he revealed it to Hange, without a doubt, he'd join her in that cell. And that's in the best case scenario.

On the other hand, there was no one Hange would pass this information onto. Telling it to her would have no consequences whatsoever.

Levi had decided. He turned to face Hange, but before his mouth could start forming words, a familiar smell entered his nostrils.

Chamomile and lavender.

He whirled around. General Greeves himself was standing behind him.

"Ackerman," he spat, barely looking at him. "We need to talk."

"Can't it wait?" Levi didn't bother to hide irritation from his voice. "I have to take care of the prisoner."

"The Eldian can wait." Greeves scoffed. "It's not like she can escape. Leave her and follow me."

Levi glanced back at Hange. She was looking right at him, her head tilted to the side, watching the exchange intently. There was a curious spark in her eyes and something else, something that looked almost like... concern? Whatever it was, Levi had no time to decipher that.

"I'll be right back," he told her curtly and followed after Greeves.

***

"Is your mother free this evening?" Greeves bluntly asked the second they were out of Hange's earshot.

"She is not," Levi said lowly. He looked at Greeves and all he could see was the frail pale wrist of his mother that was painted in mix of purple and dark yellow. It took all of his willpower and then more not to latch onto Greeves' neck and kill the bastard with his own hands.

"Then make sure she is." Greeves snapped. "And wipe that scowl from your face, boy. Or do you need reminding just how much I’ve done for you?"

Levi said nothing, just glared at Greeves from beneath his fridge.

Greeves looked around, the hallway was empty save for Hange, but he cared not for her. He grabbed Levi by the collar of his uniform, his hold strong enough to lift him off the floor.

"You have the gall, Ackerman," he hissed right into his face. "You, who got from me an apartment in the center of a capital and a fancy title of a Captain. Do you think I won't take it away from you? Do you think your mother is that good that I won't throw you out on a street? Or I can do much, much worse," a malicious smile spread on his lips, as he stared down at Levi as though he was nothing. "I can reveal a little secret. I can tell everyone that the dreaded Kenny the Ripper was actually an uncle of the brave and great Captain Levi Ackerman. Do you want me to do that, hm? Do you want the whole world to know that you were raised by a traitor? Do you want to repeat his fate alongside your dear mother? Believe me, getting lynched on the street is not the best way to go. So stop with attitude and be a good boy, understand?" Levi kept his silence and, furious, Greeves violently shook him. "I asked - do you understand?"

Levi thought of saying no. He thought of throwing the bastard's hands off him and punching him in the face. He thought of taking his gun out, of shooting him right in the center of that ugly, narrow forehead of his and watching life leave his eyes. His hand twitched.

But then he thought of his mother, of what they would do to her if he decides to succumb to his rage, of how many bruises would appear on her body after that.

He met Greeves's eyes and nodded.

"Use your words, brat."

Fury spiked inside him again, threatening to bubble out of his chest, his muscles, his bones and unleash itself onto his enemy.

He closed his eyes for a second, and the face of his mother appeared behind his eyelids. He saw her beautiful eyes, her tired but gentle smile.

"Yes." He said, his voice loud and clear. "I understand."

"Atta boy," Greeves smiled and roughly pushed him away, making Levi stumble. "Tell your mother my shift ends at seven. And I hope it goes without saying that you better not show your face while I'm there. Dismissed, Captain."

Greeves left after that, humming under his breath. It took Levi a couple of minutes to calm down. He stood frozen in place, breathing heavily as though he had just finished a marathon. He was so angry, his vision clouded. He saw nothing but blood. He wished for nothing but violence.

A careful, warm hand on his shoulder broke him out of his trance. He whirled around and was met face to face with none other than Commander Hange Zoe.

"Are you alright?" she murmured softly. The concern in her eyes was more prominent now. He stared at her for a second, wondering what was wrong with her. How much kindness was stored in her heart if she had enough to spare even for her enemy.

Well, he thought bitterly, it was her kindness that had led her there, to Marleyan prison and straight into Zeke’s arms.

In their world, it was best not to care at all. If only he knew how to do that, he lamented as the disquieted expression on Hange's face insistently tugged at his heart.

"Worry about yourself, four-eyes," he tore his eyes away from, putting on the familiar mask of cold asshole and trying to convince himself that that's what he really was. "Let's go, your cell awaits you."

***

When he came home that night, two hours after midnight his mother was already asleep. Or, at the very least, she appeared to be. The door to her room was closed and the house was dark. He approached it nevertheless, his hand touching the wooden surface. He almost knocked, but stopped himself before his hand curled into fist. He ached to know if she was alright, but he already knew that she wasn't, and going inside would only make all of it worse.

The world they live is cruel, he reminded himself, as he turned away and headed to his room. He tore off his uniform, kicking it in the corner.

He lay in his bed, fighting back tears. Fury and sorrow mixed in his mind, as he thought what his mother had to endure today, as he remembered that there was nothing he could to cease her suffering.

Their world was cruel, he remembered, and the only thing they could do is try to survive.

***

Levi took the next day off.

He woke up with the first rays of sunshine and quietly made his way to the kitchen. He cooked breakfast for his mother and then went out to the market to buy her flowers and pastries. He returned back home and went to wake her up.

The smile she gave him at the sight of fresh flowers and warm meal was enough to make him forget about his troubling thoughts.

"Let's take a walk," he offered after the breakfast was over and he dealt with the dishes.

His mother put on one of her best dresses. She let her hair down, and, as she put her arm through Levi's, a small, but endlessly happy smile curved at her lips.

"Shall we?" he asked after he put on his hat.

Kuchel giggled, covering her mouth with a palm, a picture of elegance. She made a small curtsy and murmured. "After you, my dear." The stroll through the park was nice.

They walked around for a bit, and then, when Levi's injured leg started to ache in protest, they sat down on a bench, enjoying the warm weather in the shadow of a big tree.

Knowing his son's quiet nature, Kuchel took it upon herself to fill the silence. She spoke about birds and how prettily they were singing, gushed over children that were running around and waxed poetic about trees, flowers and how beautiful they looked in the spring.

She was just telling Levi how much she enjoyed the smell of cherries when they're in bloom, when he saw one cheery petal fell down. It landed on Kuchel, tangling in her luscious, black hair.

Levi reached out to take it out and realized - it was time. He had to speak with his mother, had to tell her everything that's been on his mind.

"Mom," he began, looking her in the eyes. "Listen—"

"Shh," Kuchel pressed a finger to his lips, silencing him. "Levi, don't. I know what you want to say, and I'm asking you - don't. Our situation isn't the best, I can't deny it. But it's better than the fate your uncle has suffered. We're both still alive, we're still together. I can still be your mom, can welcome you home from work and take walks with you in the park. And that's more than enough for me. So," she pushed the hair away from his forehead and leaned in, leaving a kiss on his forehead. "Let's just enjoy this moment. Sometimes it's all we can do, my dear."

Something in the tone of her voice, the way she didn't look in his eyes evoked a feeling of dread inside him. It brought Levi unprompted desperation. He took his mother's hand in his and gripped it just a little tighter than usually.

Enjoy the moment, he repeated to himself, sometimes that's all we can do.

***

Levi returned to work the next day— and regretted ever leaving his post.

A couple of plates stood next to the Hange's cell, all of them untouched.

Hange herself wasn't in her usual spot, sitting behind the desk with a book in her hands. She was lying on the bed, facing the wall.

Levi swallowed and unlocked the door, stepping inside.

"Hey," he called softly, hoping that Hange just decided to take a nap and didn't hear him approach. She didn't respond. "Hey, it's me," he tried again, but received no answer once more.

His stomach fell as he thought about the reasons for her silence.

He hurried to her side and laid a hand on her shoulder. It was still warm. Levi let out a barely audible sigh of relief. Still warm meant still alive.

He shook her. "Get up, four-eyes."

"No," came her curt reply. Her voice was gruff, almost lifeless. Hearing it broke something in him.

Levi looked at Commander Hange, thinking what to do. Then he saw it - red seeping through the yellow of her shirt.

Zeke's methods in action, he thought grimly.

He turned around and marched out of the cell. With hurried steps, he went into infirmary and grabbed a med kit.

Commander Hange wasn't going to die. Not on his watch, at least.

"Get up," he ordered once he was back in her cell.

"No."

"Get up," he repeated, kicking the leg of the bed. "Right fucking now, four-eyes, those wounds of your need dressing."

A short laugh escaped from her lips. It was bitter and devoid of any mirth. "Why do you, of all people, worry about me?"

"I don't," Levi easily retorted. "But your people do. They want to get you back. It'd be a shame if their loyalty would result in nothing because you got too tired to continue fighting."

"Don't lecture me. What do you, Marleyan, know about my people?"

"More than you do, apparently."

That finally got her to face him.

The sight of Commander Hange almost made him choke. Her face was a mess, what was not bruised was covered in blood. Her nose looked broken and her right eye was swollen.

He felt bile rise to his throat as he continued to stare at the results of Zeke's desire to win this war.

"What do you mean?" Hange asked, her voice wary. Life slowly started to return to her eyes. “Do you know something?”

"Not much," Levi shrugged. "But there had been reports about suspicious activity on the south borders. They think your guys are getting ready to attack. That's why Zeke is so impatient to get information out of you."

Zeke was scared shitless. All of them were. Marley was an imperishable Empire who was involved in too many wars. They didn't have enough people to defend themselves in case of the attack on their land. With most of their soldiers fighting and conquering in countries far away, if Paradise attacks, they'll be practically defenseless.

"So quit moping," he told Hange. "Let me fix your wounds and then I'll bring you more food. Save your strength, four-eyes. Don't let your soldiers down."

"Has anyone ever told you you're quite rude, Captain?"

"More times that I could have count, Commander. Now, quickly, turn around and take off your shirt. We'll deal with the wounds here first."

"Bossy, aren't we?" Hange huffed, but complied and started to unbutton her shirt.

As she pushed the yellow cloth down, revealing her bare shoulders and back, Levi sighed in relief. The wounds there weren't as severe as he had expected.

Still, severe or not, the injuries had to be cleaned and dressed. Levi set out to work.

The touch of disinfectant to her bare skin made Hange hiss, but she didn't recoil. A soldier through and through, Levi noted with a growing sense of admiration.

"You weren't here yesterday," Hange spoke, her voice shaking slightly. "What were you doing?"

"Went to a park."

"Oh," Hange turned her face to the side, looking at him curiously. "Did you take Missus Ackerman with you?"

"Miss Ackerman," Levi corrected. "My mother."

“Interesting,” she hummed, biting her thumb. “So Marley’s strongest soldier is actually a momma’s boy?”

“Thinking of using it against me, Commander Hange?”

“You know what they say,” she shrugged, a smile pulling at her lips. It suited her a lot more than the pathetic expression from earlier. “All’s fair in war.”

“You’re cruel.”

“I’m effective.”

“And very annoying,” Levi scoffed, taking a step back. “Put on your shirt and turn around. I need to take care of the mess on your face now.”

“Why are you helping me?” Hange wondered, as Levi inspected her wounds, holding her chin in his hands.

“I’m not,” Levi answered, his gaze focused on the cut on her eyebrow. “I’m a loyal soldier of my country.”

“So by taking care of me…”

“I’m making sure that you live on. So you could reveal more information to us.”

The lie slipped easily from his lips. So easily that Levi almost began to think that it was the truth.

Commander Hange Zoe, however, wasn’t so effortlessly convinced.

“And yet you haven’t asked me a single question, Captain.”

“Levi,” he grunted, as he started to gently wipe the blood from her forehead.

“What?”

“Call me Levi.”

“Oh.” She looked down for a second, mumbling something under her breath. Her voice was too quiet, but Levi thought that she was mouthing his name. Then she raised her eyes and met his. A soft smile was playing on her lips. “Then you should call me Hange.”

“Nah,” he said, desperately trying to fight back a smile. “Four-eyes suits you much better.”

***

A week later the news came.

The base in Lago, where the main body of their navy was located, was destroyed. No survivors. No witnesses.

A banner of Wings of Freedom that was now fluttering in the wind at the top of the once great Lago base was enough of a clue, though.

The pride of Marley, the fear of dozens of their enemy nations, Lago base was thought to be indestructible. Just like Marley itself.

A week later the news came. The next day, Commander Hange Zoe lost an eye.

***

“Stop it with that face.”

“What face?” Levi tore his gaze away from the bloodied mess and a lifeless white that once had been a lively, rich brown color.

“That face. Stop looking so angry. Or I will start thinking that you care.”

Hange lifted a finger, and then— before Levi could react – slap her hand or push her away – she bopped his nose. He blinked and looked down. He didn’t know what face he was making right now, but it had Hange snickering.

“That’s better,” she declared.

“Idiot,” Levi scoffed and turned away, fumbling with the med kit he had brought. He was more than familiar with its contents by now, having regularly used it to treat her wounds, but he felt the need to keep himself busy, and, more importantly, keep himself facing away from Commander Hange. If she had noticed the flush on his face, he wouldn’t hear the end of it. “Of course, I do care. Your wound is bleeding. It ruins the sheets, you know.”

“Ah,” Hange nodded. “That is a serious problem.”

“More than you know. I wash those sheets, if you didn’t know.”

“You do? The great Captain Levi washes the sheets of a mere Eldian prisoner?”

“No one else wishes to do it. And I can’t stand that reek.”

“Oh god,” her remaining eye lighted up, as though Levi has just said the most wonderful thing she had ever heard. “I can’t believe it, Captain Levi Ackerman, the fear of all Eldians,” she paused dramatically, an amused smile playing on her lips. “Is actually a clean freak.”

Levi arched an eyebrow, giving the most unimpressed look he could muster. “Has anyone told you’re very stupid?”

“Never,” she confessed proudly. “I’m actually considered one of the smartest people in Paradise.”

“Makes sense then, why you’re losing this war.”

“Ouch,” Hange winced. “That actually hurt.”

“Speaking of pain…” Levi took a cloth dapped in antiseptic into his hand and grabbed Hange by the chin. “Let me take a look at your eye.”

In his years as a soldier, Levi had seen his share of injuries. But he had never got used to it. The sight of broken bones and lacerated skin, of blood seeping through uniform and sinking in between trembling fingers, it was a sight he just couldn’t get accustomed to, no matter how hard he tried and no matter how many battles he had witnessed and survived.

The wound that he was now seeing on the face of Hange Zoe wasn’t an exception. Looking at the cut running through her eye, the eye that was always filled with so much life and emotion, he felt sadness sip deep into his heart.

“Not as handsome as I was before, eh?” Hange lowered her voice to a quiet murmur, and when he glanced down at her face, he saw that she was wearing a hesitant expression.

“Nonsense,” Levi shook his head, chasing away his troubling thoughts, and began to wipe the blood away from her face. “Who told you were handsome before?”

“You are even snarkier than usual today.” Hange noted, her only eye looking at him closely. “Is there a reason for it, I wonder?”

“Who did this?” Levi asked. “Zeke?”

The hold he had on her jaw tightened ever so slightly, as he fought to conceal his anger. Thankfully, Hange didn’t comment on it.

“No. This little monster I had created myself.”

“Floch,” Levi guessed instantly. Of course, how he could forget about that damned bastard. “Well, if it gives you any consolation, Zeke isn’t having the time of his life either.”

“Oh?”

“Lago base was attacked, and, subsequently, destroyed.”

“Oh…” Hange bit her lip, a cautious and almost worried expression on her face. “And the attackers…”

“Were never found. The only thing that was discovered is the banner of Wings of Freedom.”

“Huh,” a wide, excited grin spread on her lips. “A stealthy approach then. Definitely one of Armin’s ideas.”

Levi kept his silence, continuing to work on her wound.

“What,” Hange playfully kicked his leg. “You’re not going to ask who that Armin is? His full name? His rank?”

“I’ll leave the interrogation stuff to Zeke,” Levi pursed his lips, the disgust showing at his face at the thought of the bearded jerk. “My job is cleaning up his messes.”

“And looking after me,” Hange said with a soft look in her eye. “You’re such a good man, Levi. So kind to me…”

“It’s not kindness,” Levi scoffed, doing his best to remain nonchalant and hide his discomfort. “Just basic human decency.”

“You think I deserve it?”

You deserve it more than most, he wanted to say.

“Why wouldn’t you deserve it,” he answered instead. “You’re a human too, aren’t you?”

Hange chuckled, the sound quiet and bitter. “Most of your countrymen would disagree.”

“I told you already. I’m not the most.”

“But you’ve told me something else too,” Hange argued. She lifted her hand and traced the line from his cheek to his mouth. “These scars… you said they were caused by the weapon I created. Don’t you hate me for that?”

“No.” Levi echoed. “You’re not at fault here. The war is.”

Hange fell silent after that, lost in her thoughts. To an accompaniment of her shallow breathing and infrequent hisses, Levi finished tending to her injury. He cleaned the wound, did his best to stitch the cut skin together and then dressed it in a white gauze.

When he was tying the ends at the back of her head, Hange softly touched his arm.

“Thank you,” she murmured. “For making survival just a bit easier for me.”

Levi looked into her eye, swept his gaze across all of her face and body, carving it to his memory, and nodded.

He turned around then and left her cell. As he walked through the empty, ill-lit hallways, he thought if Hange was able to understand, if she could see in his eyes that he was grateful to her for all the same reasons.

***

“Captain.”

Without asking for permission, without waiting for an invitation, Zeke waltzed inside Levi’s office, plopping down on the chair beside his desk.

“I came to talk with you,” he announced, that infuriating smile plastered to his lips. “Do you have a moment?”

“For you, Zeke?” Levi made sure to put as much sarcasm and distain in his voice as it was possible. “Always.”

“Excellent!” Zeke eagerly clasped his hands together. He either didn’t notice or simply didn’t care enough to respond to Levi’s taunting. “I wanted to discuss with you the infamous Commander Hange.”

His stomach fell as those words left Zeke’s mouth. Whatever he was going to say next, Levi was sure he wouldn’t like it. He didn’t let any of his anxiety show at his face, though, and so Levi nodded, prompting Zeke to continue.

“She’s a tough nut to crack, and as you’re well aware, we’re losing our precious time. We need to get at least something out of her, or the whole country is doomed.”

“And how is that my problem?” Levi lazily inquired. “Torturing people isn’t one of my responsibilities.”

“I’m not asking you to torture her, I doubt you can do that,” Zeke said it flippantly, like an after-thought. But his eyes stared at Levi intently, gauging his reaction. “But she trusts you. And I need you to exploit it.”

“Trusts me?” Levi scoffed, genuinely surprised by Zeke’s assertion. “We’re talking about Eldian Commander, do you think she’d be stupid enough to trust me?”

“You’re closer to her than any of us,” Zeke protested, serious, despite his ridiculous claims.

“So what?” Levi sat back in his chair, crossing hands on his chest and staring at Zeke with a deep frown on his face. “She lets me dress her wounds. That doesn’t mean she trusts me.”

“On the contrary. That’s exactly what it means. Do you think I’m such a barbarian, Levi?” Zeke asked, before Levi could continue protesting. “Do you think I have not offered to take care of her wounds? She laughed at me and then spat in my face.”

Despite his best efforts, Levi’s lips twitched as he fought back a smile. If only he could see it… The expression Zeke made in that moment, it was probably the one of pure disgust and hatred. Levi had spent years trying to make Zeke look at him like that.

Truly, Commander Hange Zoe was something else.

“Talk with her, Levi,” Zeke ordered, his voice tainted with anger at the sight of Levi’s clear amusement. “Do your country a service. Or else I’m going to dig deeper into the reasons of why Commander Zoe trusts you so. You wouldn’t want to become second Kenny the Ripper, would you? Your mother wouldn’t be able to take it. So think of her, if the loyalty to your country isn’t enough to motivate you.”

Without waiting for Levi’s reply, Zeke stood up and headed to the door.

“I hope you’ll make the right choice,” he said at last, and then disappeared behind the door, leaving Levi alone.

***

Another week passed, and all the main forces of their army were brought in to the capital. The brass looked at the young, but worn-out faces, at the once strong bodies that were now claimed by exhaustion and traumas, and realized – they had no army.

Their unwinnable, perfect soldiers, the elite of elites, they were too few of them. A lot had died far away from their motherland, conquering countries at the other side of the world, while the others fell victims to stray bullets and bombshells which left them broken and unable to fight.

And the military of indestructible Empire realized – they were going to lose this war.

***

Levi came home that evening, and found his mother behind a weasel, painting a tree branch that was visible from their window.

“I’m home,” he announced for his mother was too occupied with her work to notice his arrival.

At the sound of his voice, she turned around, and the brilliant smile on her lips was enough to calm his raging heart.

“You picked up art again?” he asked, as he approached her and laid a hand on her shoulder.

“I felt a sudden feat of inspiration,” she said, her voice like a sweet melody. “Although, I’m afraid my skills got a bit rough…”

“It’s beautiful,” Levi assured. “Did you eat dinner already?”

“Oh no,” her eyes widened and her hand flew to her mouth. “I forgot to make it.”

“I’ll cook something for us, don’t worry. I’ll call you when it’s ready, you can continue painting.”

“Such a sweet boy,” she shook her head, lifting a brush and dipping it in a green paint. “How are things at work?”

Their second base, this one much closer to the capital was destroyed.

The situation was as bad as it could possibly be. Eldian forces were making rapid progress, and no one knew what to do to stop the invasion. They didn't have enough men to defend themselves, and, to make matters worse, they were yet to actually see the Eldian soldiers. The devils from Paradise remained hidden, striking from the shadows.

Zeke had departed from the capital, going to the closest army base to train the new recruits. Most of the Marleyan brass followed after him - Greeves had left too, and Levi suspected that it was the reason for his mother's good mood. They claimed they wanted to overlook the trainings, but Levi knew better - in case of the attack on the capital, they were hoping to wait it out in the safety of base's bunkers.

Zeke had left, but he sent Levi letters every day, asking on his progress with Hange. And every day, Levi had to come up with another lie to explain to him the absence of results.

So no, things at work weren't going that good, but then Levi remembered a smile that bloomed on Hange's face as he told her about the accomplishments of her soldiers, and he said.

"The work? It's going fine."

***

In a desperate attempt to showcase their superiority, to prove to the whole world that they're still the same indestructible Marley, the government decided to throw a parade.

The soldiers were rehearsing for days at end, perfecting their matching technique.

The sound of their tramps boomed through the main courtyard and reverberated through the stone walls of the army headquarters, as military officials and army engineers ran around, preparing the best and most advanced weaponry to show everyone their might.

During a day like this Levi led Hange out of her cell.

She walked through the hallways with a spring in her step and her hands dangling from side to side. For a tortured prisoner, she looked far too cheerful.

"Are you leading me to the gallows?" she asked in a playful singing voice.

Levi swept his gaze across her form, something coming alive inside him at the sight of her looking so joyful. "Unfortunately, no."

"Hm.” Hange nodded, narrowing her eye. “And what about the handcuffs?" she raised her free wrists. "Where are they? Am I not supposed to be an important and dangerous prisoner?"

"Are you going to run away, four-eyes?" Levi looked at her, a spark of amusement lightening his bored expression.

"I could try," she challenged.

"You could," Levi agreed. "And you wouldn't take more than two steps before I catch you."

"I could take you by surprise..."

"And you're saying this to prepare me for that surprise?"

Hange's bravado disappeared without a trace. "Damn your perceptiveness..." she muttered with a slight pout.

"So where are you taking me?" she repeated her question.

"To the bathroom."

"Eh?" a look of confusion settled over her face. "Is this a new method of torture?"

"No. I'm just sick of your smell. You reek worse than a pig, four-eyes."

"Ah, your clean freaky tendencies,” she snickered. “Of course, how could I forget."

“Take your clothes off,” he instructed once they were inside a brightly lit room with a bathtub standing at the center of it.

“I see you already prepared the water…” she murmured, approaching the tub and dipping her fingers in it. “And it’s still warm!”

“Don’t waste any more time then. Get inside, four-eyes.”

“Wait,” Hange sat at the edge of the tub and eyed him suspiciously. “You’re going to stay in the room with me?”

“You’re an important and dangerous prisoner,” he used her words from before. “Can’t exactly leave you here all alone, can I?”

“Or you just can’t resist my sexy and curvy body…” she whispered with a smirk on her lips.

“Start cleaning yourself,” Levi hastily turned around, hiding his blush. “Or I’ll do it myself.”

“Oh, will you be rough?” her sultry, sulky voice was quiet, but enticing. Levi hated the fact that it made his heart beat faster. “Will you manhandle me? Make me submit to your commands?”

“For fuck’s sake!” he growled, his ears and cheeks burning. “Just shut up and take a damn bath!”

“You’re no fun…” he heard her mumble. A moment later, he heard another sound, the one that made him exhale in relief – a sound of splashing water that signaled that Hange finally got inside the bathtub.

Levi tuned out everything else after that and stared out of the window, watching the soldiers march – one foot, then another, left and right, left and right, each move precise and controlled.

“So they’re organizing a parade,” Hange said. “Marley really doesn’t care that Paradise can attack at any moment?”

“On the contrary,” Levi disagreed. “Your guys got army higher-ups terrified as ever.”

“So this parade…”

“Is meant to show the other countries that we’re still as strong as ever, and ensure our own people that we got everything under control.”

“Not bad,” Hange hummed. “When people in Paradise start to doubt the government, they just start throwing shit at us.”

Despite himself, Levi chuckled. “Literally or figuratively?”

“Depends on how much we fucked up.”

“Paradise sounds more and more like my kind of country…” he mused quietly.

“I told you already,” Hange said, and without even looking at her, Levi could see the proud smirk on her face. “We could use your skills.”

“Are you trying to recruit me again, Commander?”

“It depends – is it working?”

Yes, Levi wanted to say. In the end, he said nothing.

“Hey,” she called. “Help me wash my hair, please.”

Levi wordlessly complied. He stood behind her back, his gaze involuntarily darting to the myriad of scars on her shoulder blades. He wondered about the story behind them. Without thinking, he reached out and traced the outline of one blemish, the one that ran along her spine.

“I have a lot of time to think nowadays,” Hange began, snapping Levi out of his reverie. He pulled his hand away, as fast as he could. The warmth from her skin lingered at his fingertips, making him wish to savor it for as long as possible. Ignoring the pleasant feeling, he pushed her down, wetting her hair. Then, when Hange reemerged, he squeezed shampoo onto his hands and buried them into her brown locks, gently carding through her hair. “I know it’s a bit stupid, and I know you most probably will laugh at me, or call me crazy, but… I thought if things were different, if—”

“If I wasn’t me, and you weren’t you?” Levi prompted, his voice hollow. He thought about the same thing.

“Yes,” Hange gave a slight nod. “If we had met under different circumstances, could we become… friends?”

Friends. What a weird word, what a constellation of different, but equally warm feelings. Affection, trust and care… They meant nothing to him. In all the years he was living in this world, he never really had anyone who could fit that description. He had colleagues, had brothers in arms, had his family… but a friend? He wasn’t familiar with that concept.

But if he was, Hange Zoe would probably fit that description to a tee.

If only things were different…

“Close your eyes,” he ordered, ignoring her question as though it had never been asked. “It’s time to rinse your hair.”

“Thank you,” Hange said, when she was finished with a bath and put on the fresh clothes Levi had brought her. It was his own, the white shirt was too wide for Hange in the shoulders and a little short in the sleeve’s area. She should have noticed, she probably had. She didn’t comment on it. “The bath was nice.”

She lowered her head after that, refusing to meet his eyes.

Even so, Levi nodded. “Let’s get back then. Your wounds need redressing.”

Hange followed him without another word. As he led her back, one thought repeated itself over and over in his head.

If only things were different…

***

The parade was fast approaching. And with that, came a spread of a rumor amongst high ranking officers that the attack was going to happen during the festivities. It was based on nothing, a little less than a stupid superstition.

Still, the atmosphere at the capital was becoming tenser and tenser with each passing day.

Zeke had come back along with other members of military, disappointed in Levi and desperate to get at least something out of unyielding Commander, something they could use to protect themselves before it was too late.

The absence of time was working in Levi's favor. Zeke couldn't spare even a second on him, otherwise he'd surely investigate the suspicious lack of any results.

Levi too had his fair share of reasons for anxieties. He couldn't leave the capital, his absence would be noticed immediately and punished severally, but he wasn't so keen to escape. He was ready to stand with other soldiers and do his best to protect his homeland, but his mother... His mother was another matter completely. He couldn't leave her in the city, even if Hange's people weren't quite as cruel, a fallen building or one particularly bloodthirsty soldier could become a reason for his mother's demise.

He couldn't let it happen.

So in the middle of the night, three days before the parade, Levi paid a visit to an old acquaintance.

Uri Reiss, the biggest adversary against Marley's imperial tendencies, the leader of a once influential political party and the sole reason of Kenny's early and shameful loss of a life, was now in the hiding, living the last days of his glory in the slumps at the edge of the city.

When Levi came, he was sitting in front of a fire with his legs folded underneath him, surrounded by a group of people.

Levi briefly wondered if that were his new followers. Looks like the bastard had lost everything, except his charm, he thought bitterly.

Uri looked bad, old and weary, he was a far cry from the charismatic and sharp man his uncle had decided to follow all those years ago. He was wearing baggy, dirty clothes that were patched up too many times. The only part of his garb that still seemed clean, the only thing he obviously took great care of, was a hat he was wearing on his head.

Kenny's hat, Levi realized after a second of staring at it.

Even after all those ten years that passed since Kenny's death, Levi still remembered that hat.

Remembered how easy it was to find his uncle in the crowd of people because of it. Remembered the texture, the feeling of it in his hands from those rare moments, when Kenny put it on his head.

Of course, he left it to that bastard. Gave it away, easily just like his life.

The mere thought of Kenny evoked a sense of deep, forgotten rage in Levi. The mere sight of his friend, the damned Uri Reiss that condemned their whole family with his naive beliefs, was enough to make Levi fume with anger.

"Levi," Uri squinted, looking at him. "Is that really you? What are you doing here?"

He stepped closer, the shadows from the fire that Uri and his friends were sitting around dancing across his face. "I came to collect my debt."

"Your debt?"

"Yes," he nodded. "You promised Kenny, I know you did, he told me so himself. In exchange for his life, you promised that in time of need, you'll help me and my mother."

"I hope you understand that my hands are quite tied, and I don't have the influence I once possessed," Uri tilted his head, his abnormally bright eyes studying Levi. Despite his old age, despite his current state, his eyes remained the same. The same wit and wisdom Kenny couldn't resist, they were still there. "So what do you want?"

"I'm not going to ask for much," Levi assured him. "I just need you to take my mother out of the city, as far away as you can manage."

"Ah, beautiful Kuchel," Uri shook his head, a wistful smile playing on his thin lips. "Kenny had a soft spot for her too. For both of you, you were the only thing he cared about..."

"And yet he gave his life for your cause," Levi growled, his hands squeezing into fists. “And left us to deal with consequences."

He always hated Uri, hated how much influence he had over Kenny. Hated how in the end, Kenny chose him, and not them, his family.

"Will you do this or not?"

"I—" Uri faltered for a second, something changing in the depth of his eyes. "Of course, I'll help you, Levi. In three days, I'll send one of my men to fetch Kuchel from your apartment. They'll bring her to a safe place, you have my word."

"Good," Levi turned around, unable to look at the bastard any longer.

"And you, Levi?" Uri called after him. "Don't you wish to leave too?"

"No," he answered, his gaze determined. "I'll stay here. Until the end."

***

Convincing his mother to leave proved to be a tougher challenge than Levi had expected. But in the end, after swearing to her that he would join her very soon, he was able to persuade her to start packing her things.

And that's how he spent the remaining three days - helping his mother and keeping Hange company. As though sensing the approach of her soldiers, she became much livelier. She talked about them a lot - gushing over her subordinates as if they were her own children.

Levi shared small bits about his life as well - briefly reminiscing about the time when Kenny was still alive, still with them and they were a small, but tight and loving family.

In moments like these, he couldn't get her words out of his head.

if we had met under different circumstances, could we become… friends?

In moments like these, he felt as though they already were.

***

Three days later, Levi was in a hurry.

He glanced at his pocket watch - it showed seven o'clock - and started running. He left his office and headed outside, passing dozens of people who were in the same state of haste as he was. The parade was starting in just an hour, civilians already started to gather at the main plaza, and everyone was busy with the last preparations. And Levi was in a rush to get home.

The pointer of his pocket watch showed that it was almost a quarter after seven and Levi squeezed himself in-between the large, tight crowd, desperate to get home.

If he was fast enough, she'd still be there. If he was fast enough, he could say a proper goodbye to his mother.

Panting and heaving, he all but tumbled into his apartment. Instantly— the smell of chamomile and lavender tickled his nostrils.

Levi relaxed, she was still here. He kicked off his shoes and walked inside.

He headed to the kitchen and froze a few steps short from it. With heart in his throat, his eyes slowly traced the trail of blood on the floor.

His mother— she wasn't there. Not anymore.

"That's what whores get for trying to escape."

Levi's head snapped to the sound of voice, that voice.

Greeves had walked out of the bathroom, the still bloodied knife in his hands.

Levi was at him in an instant.

He didn't think, he didn't feel as he had wretched the knife out of his hands and threw it away.  

He glanced back, at the body of his mother. He saw the steely look in her eyes, a mask of suffering etched forever on her beautiful face.

He turned back to Greeves, and he hit.

His first blow broke his nose. Greeves hollered, and somewhere outside, a distance away from the little apartment in the center of the city, the fireworks started. Or, maybe, the defining explosion wasn't caused by fireworks, as the screams that followed were terrified, not excited, but Levi did not care enough to pay attention to it.

He hit Greeves again and again, and then again. His knuckles started to ache, but he didn't stop. Greeves fell to the ground and he didn't stop, just paused long enough to get on top of him. He stroke blow after blow, hit his face again and again, until there was nothing left.

Only then, he had stopped. 

With his legs shaking and hands trembling, he stood up and approached the prone body of his mother.

He picked her up - as gently as he could with the hands that were made for war, with the hands that were covered in blood of her murderer - and brought her to her room, placing her on the bed.

He fixed her hair, wiped the blood from her face and pressed a kiss to her forehead, mimicking a gesture he had received from her so often.

Now that the fog that had taken over his mind was gone, Levi was more aware of his surroundings. Now he was able to understand what was going on outside.

It wasn't the sound of fireworks, those weren't the scream of triumph.

As a loyal soldier of Marleyan Empire, he knew all too well the sound of a thunder spear explosion.

The deadly invention of Commander Hange Zoe.

The city wasn't going to hold out for much longer. That meant he was still in a hurry. There was still an unfinished business he had to take care of.

***

All hell had broken loose, when Levi walked outside. The streets around him were ablaze with fire, from all sides all he could hear was explosions, cries and wallows. 

The worst of the fighting was done on the main plaza. A downpour of bullets rained down all around him, as two sides desperately fought to achieve victory.

His blindingly white military coat was making him an easy target and wordlessly told everyone which side he was on. So Levi shook it off and made the rest of the way, running from cover to cover, wearing only his thin shirt.

Because, apparently, the universe had its fill of miseries for him already, he was able to get to the entrance of army headquarters relatively unharmed.

Once he stepped inside, Levi had to pause and survey his surroundings. After all the chaos outside, the familiar hallways seemed almost unnaturally quiet.

It was unexpectedly empty too, although Levi was sure it won’t last for long.

Without wasting another moment, he headed to the dungeons. The lone guard that still stood there, protecting god knows what, at the sight of Levi raised his arm in salute.

“Captain Ackerman!” he shouted with no small amount of relief. “We were looking for you, General Yeager needs you—”

The words slowly died on his throat, as he took a better look at Levi’s face.

“Captain?” the guard asked cautiously. “Your face… Did you already engage in a fight? Are you hurt?”

“Get lost,” Levi growled, pushing past him. “Go and hide somewhere, wait until the fighting is over. Don’t throw away your life for this country,” his face changed, a shadow passing through it. “It’s not worth it.”

Without another glance at the soldier, Levi opened the large metal door and walked in.

She must be still here. Thankfully, she was.

***

In the silence of the dungeons, the sound of a key turning and the lock opening was loud like a gunshot.

It had Hange bolting up from her place at the bed.

“Levi!” she exclaimed, relief and happiness mixing in her voice.

“Get out.” He rasped, hollow and lifeless.

“Levi?” she approached him, cautiously, like a cornered, wounded animal. “What—”

“Get out!” he yelled. “While you still can.”

The thundering noise of heavy footsteps sounded up above them. The soldier, guarding the entrance, had probably reported to someone the news about his arrival. That, or they have already found the body in his apartment.

Either way, he was already done for. After murdering a war general, there was only one way for him to go.

And he’d rather get hanged, knowing that he did at least one good thing in his life.

The irony of it all was laughable. Always praised for his loyalty and obedience, he ended up as a traitor.

Like uncle, like nephew.

“Levi, what happened?” Hange stood right in front of him, so close he could feel her breath on his cheek. She watched him, her eye shining with worry. “There’s blood on your face…”

“Not mine,” he answered, staring at the wall behind her shoulder with glassy, distant gaze.

“Thank gods…” she muttered, cradling his face in her hands. Using the sleeve of her shirt, she did her best to wipe the blood from his cheeks and jaw.

Levi didn’t look at her even once.

“Hey…” Hange tried again, moving even closer, her thumb absentmindedly brushing his cheekbone. “Levi, talk to me, please. What happened?”

“Go,” he wanted to push her away, but Hange didn’t sway, a look of stubborn determination taking over her features.

“I won’t go anywhere, until you tell me what happened.”

The footsteps became louder, soon they would reach the dungeon. He needed to get rid of Hange before that happens.

“My mother…” he whispered, shutting his eyes close. The mere memory of her body lying in a pool of her own blood brought him an immense amount of pain. It felt like someone had stuck a knife in his chest and turned it, it felt like someone had ripped his heart out.

“Oh, Levi,” Hange wrapped herself around him, burying her nose in his shoulder. “I’m so sorry. Who did that? Was it—”

“No,” he shook his head. “She was killed by Marleyan. And I killed him.”

“That won’t go unpunished,” Hange carefully said, still holding him in her arms.

“I know. And I don’t care.”

“I do,” she said suddenly, the fierceness of her voice surprising Levi. “Go with me.”

“What?” Levi took a step back, staring at Hange with wide eyes. “What are you talking about?”

“There is nothing keeping you here. And if you stay, they’ll put you in prison or worse. Run away with me, Levi.”

Her offer… was unexpected. He thought his life was already over, made his peace with that, but what Hange proposed… it didn’t sound that bad, not as bad as dying alone, at least.

If he accepted, he’d be able to find a purpose again. He’d finally get a friend.

He looked up at Hange. She was staring back at him, waiting for his answer. The footsteps up above stopped, and the voices appeared, Levi instantly recognized Zeke and Floch. They were close, possibly just behind the door.

Levi knew another way out, a hidden exit almost no one knew about. Hange could use it to escape, but she didn’t have much time.

Nevertheless, she didn’t falter. She didn’t glance back, didn’t fidget or sweat or tremble.

A force to be reckoned with, Levi remembered his own words.

“All this talk of running away…” he lifted his lips in a shadow of a smile. “Do you wish to recruit me so bad, Commander?”

“I told you, we could use your skills,” Hange answered, a smile breaking on her face as well. “So… are you interested in my offer?”

He reached out, grasped her hand in his and answered.

“I am.”

#just so you know this whole thing was created out of idea 'hey wouldn't levi look super hot in marleyan uniform?' #so you can imagine it's not super coherent #levihan #levihan fanfiction

[kstewdeux]

Scars On My Heart

Orginally Posted on FFN and Ao3 for @superpixie42

"It's just a stupid cut," InuYasha snapped as he tried to scramble backwards without wincing, "It'll get better in the morning. I don't need you to clean it."

"Oh yes. Whatever could go wrong," Kagome countered scathingly as she watched the black haired boy literally back himself into a corner, "Why bother cleaning a dirt covered wound? It'll just seal up all that dirt in the morning and you'll get blood poisoning. No big deal."

Inuyasha smirked despite himself before his glare returned full force.

"You just want to see me naked," he tried hoping her embarrassment would get her to leave him alone.

"Oh. You got me. That was my plan all along," Kagome bit back sarcastically before giving him a withering glare, "Shirt. Off."

"Make me," he snarled and Kagome sighed.

"You're so immature."

"You're immature."

"Great comeback," Kagome snorted, "Doesn't sound like something a child would say at all."

"I'm not a child!"

"Then stop acting like one," Kagome clipped back as she raised an eyebrow, "You want to keep going? We've got all night and I'm not backing down until you let me see your wound."

The stare down that followed would've sent chills down even Naraku's spine before InuYasha admitted defeat and began shrugging out of his clothes.

"Not like dirt even got on it," he muttered scathingly, "Stupid woman. Being all dramatic."

Kagome ignored the insult as she collected the linens and disinfectant she had laid out. Scooting towards the seething man sending daggers at her with his dark eyes, she gently wiped away the smeared blood before her hand paused. Wiping again, she realized that some of the dark pink streaks weren't blood smears at all.

"What are these?" Kagome whispered as she traced a few with her finger and Inuyasha's angry countenance faded as he looked down.

"Nothing," he replied indifferently, "Hurry up already. That shit burns my nose."

"They're scars," she whispered as her eyes traveled across his chest. It was littered with them. How had she never noticed before?

"Are you blind? They've been there woman," he hissed as insecurity welled in his chest, "Like I said. They're nothing."

"I've never seen them," she replied softly as her gaze drifted upwards to his neck. Several purplish jagged lines adorned his throat. Like multiple someones had tried to slice it at one point or another. A shaky sigh escaped her lips.

"When did these happen?" she asked quietly as she traced a particular nasty one on his throat with her finger causing him to shiver. Not because it felt good either. He'd always assumed she'd been able to see them. A cold feeling of dread settled uneasily in his gut.

"Years ago," he admitted nervously as his eyes searched her face. She looked so sad. He swallowed thickly and unfortunately the movement accentuated the pale purplish lines causing Kagome's eyes to widen incrementally.

There were so many of them. Not one or two or even three. Dozens of people had tried to slit his throat. Dozens.

Forcing his chin up so she could inspect them more thoroughly, she really should've seen what followed coming. Hell hath no fury like an insecure half-demon.

"Get the fuck off" he snapped as he roughly pushed her away before instantly regretting what he'd done when Kagome fell onto her back. Her head making a soft thump as it made contact.

"Wait. Shit. Are you okay? I didn't mean..." he hissed as he scrambled forward and gently helped her back up, "Sorry. I just..."

"It's fine, InuYasha," she sighed as she rubbed the back of her head. He looked more miserable and horrified than she'd ever seen before.

"I hurt you," he whispered as his human eyes seemed to scan her body for injuries before, finding nothing worrisome, he finally relaxed. Kinda.

"I tried to pop the personal space bubble," Kagome laughed softly, "Should've known better."

"The what?" he blurted before the rest of what she'd said registered.

"You think I'd hurt you," he accused as his heart broke and she shook her head.

"I'm not saying that," she comforted as she gave him a reassuring smile, "Just saying I shouldn't have tried to do that."

Whatever she was doing was having the opposite effect of what she wanted. InuYasha suddenly looked so incredibly lost and scared and unsure of himself. Obviously unnerved by what he'd done and upset about what she'd said. If it wasn't so sad, she might've laughed at the uncharacteristic behavior. It was weird. Just...weird.

"Do you want to look at them?" he finally asked as he cast her a quick glance. He could fix this, he thought. He needed to fix this. He'd hurt her. Oh god he'd actually hurt her.

"The scars you mean?" she clarified and he nodded. His mind still replaying the last excruciating minute over and over and over. His self loathing building until he very seriously almost puked. Stupid human emotions. Making him do shit and feel.

"Do you want me to?" She asked hesistantly and he shrugged in reply. Truth be told, no. No he didn't. He didn't like being stared at on a good day. Especially when those stares focused on part of himself that were different.

All this time he'd assumed she saw them. Even on occasion when he felt like punishing himself, he almost thought she found him attractive despite his married skin, and demon traits. The demonic traits she obviously wasn't bothered by but the scars she clearly had never noticed before did. They seemed to bother her a lot.

Was she disgusted by him now? He had just gotten used to her genuine acceptance too. Assuming that she really didn't care about his appearance but now he knew the truth. It was entirely possible her vision was so bad she just didn't know.

Maybe she couldn't see what he looked like at all. That would explain a lot actually.

Either way he needed to fix all of this. He needed to fix it now.

Swallowing thickly, he nodded as he moved back into the corner and waited for the doom that was inevitably coming.

"Why don't I see these when you're normal?" Kagome asked as she scooted forward and began looking at the scars of his chest more closely. The small line over his heart that had clearly been placed there by Kikyo's arrow. The deep purple puckered one where Sesshomaru had thrust his hand through his stomach. But there was a series of healed gashes wrapping around his side that had her particularly concerned.

"I dunno," he muttered awkwardly. Being examined so throughly made him uneasy. She seemed so intrigued by those marks on his skin and not in a good way. Had she really never noticed before? What else had she not seen?

"I normally have dog ears, ya know," he muttered in an unsure tone that had her looking up at him instantly in amusement.

"No duh," she giggled, "What do they have to do with these scars?"

Well that was one less thing bothering him. She wasn't blind as a...

Wait, what the hell? What did she mean what did his ears have to do with...

"Are you really that stupid? I only have these because of those ears. Because of what I am," he snapped angrily as he glared down at her.

"I didn't mean..." Kagome groaned as she sat back on her knees and gave him a patient glare, "I was just wondering why you said that."

"Because you're acting like this," he gestured to his exposed torso, "Is new. Like it hasn't always been there."

"I've seen you literally naked before and you don't have these when you're your usual self," Kagome pointed out with an amused smile that fell when he merely looked confused, "At least to human eyes, I guess. Can you see them all the time?"

He let out a shuddering breath as he tried to get his anger back under control. Why were emotions so much harder as a human?

"They're lighter normally. More silver," he admitted finally as he awkwardly shifted his weight. He'd always assumed...

Maybe the others couldn't see them either. The scars invisible to human eyes. Shippo noticed. InuYasha knew he had. There were times the stupid brat seemed a little too focused on the worst of these blemishes when he thought no one was watching.

"Maybe that's it then," she hummed as she glanced over her chest before her eyes drifted back to those deep grooves wrapping across his stomach from the back.

"What's this one?" she asked quietly as she reached out and ran her finger across one of the shockingly deep valleys. He cringed and sat up a little straighter so his back was nearly flush against the wall. The scars on his chest, though numerous and ugly themselves, were the least of his problems. His chest wasn't a veritable topographical map complete with enough sprawling grooves that someone might mistake it for tree bark. At least the part she was looking at now had some smooth areas.

"It's a scar stupid," he clipped back hoping that the insult would end this line of questioning before swearing silently when her hand suddenly slipped behind him and her eyes widened in horror.

"Let me see your back," she breathed and he shook his head.

"I'm still bleeding," he pointed out as he desperately tried to change the subject, "You need to finish what you started. What about blood poisioning?"

"The bandage will have to wrap around your middle which will require me seeing your back," she pointed out with a knowing look.

"It's not that bad," he argued weakly, "Just put one of those bandaids on it."

"InuYasha," Kagome warned, "Don't make me say it."

"You wouldn't dare," he sneered although she could hear the genuine fear in his tone. She didn't sit him when he was human for a very good reason. The miko had done so once before when he was human and the spell had straight up broken his nose. Blood had gushed out all night after Sango had set it and the resulting bruise took two full days to disappear. To call the incident unpleasant would be an understatement.

"Then lay down and let me see your back," she challenged and the glare off began. Growing in intensity as they shot daggers and screamed at each other through expression alone. The problem he had was that he knew she would never let this go if he didn't fold. Might even be afraid to touch that part of him if she thought it might aggravate injuries long since healed. Kagome riding his back was definitely not something he had any intention of giving up. Which caused a conflict of It's own. If she saw, she might not want to touch him at all. Might be disgusted by the memory of seeing the mottled, disturbing sight.

"I just want to see," she finally asked in a soft, pleading tone as she batted her eyelashes at him and pouted prettily. His resolve wavered at the dirty trick.

"You're still you Inuyasha. I feel bad that I've never noticed before," she tried again in the sweetest, least cheesy tone she could manage and he folded.

Damn her.

Sighing, he slowly sprawled out on the floor, wincing when his still unattended injury hit the gritty floor. So much for worrying about the previously not covered in dirt wound.

Kagome's soft gasp felt like a thousand daggers in his heart. He turned his face away from her and rested his cheek on his arms. She'd never look at him the same again and a part of him grieved the inevitable loss.

"What happened?" she asked as her fingers trailed down the heavily grooved flesh. How could she have missed this? His back normally felt so smooth and this was far from the first time she'd tended to an injury.

"What do you think happened?" he chuckled darkly, "I got hurt."

Clearly, Kagome thought miserably as her eyes followed a strange series of wide loops. They had obviously been stretched over time. As he had grown, the skin had been pulled to match his larger stature.

"These are from when you were small," she whispered as she traced the asymmetrical grooves that were much, much deeper than they looked and were to blame for the wrap around blemish as well.

"Yeah," he sighed heavily. He knew which ones she was referring too. Those had been the first ugly marks he'd received.

"Are they from a whip?" she asked cautiously and he nodded.

"Why?" she asked quietly before huffing in frustration and backpedaling, "I mean I know why, why but I just..."

"My grandfather tied me to a post after mother died," he explained softly, "Something about the plague. I can't really remember."

She let out a shuddering breath and her fingers stilled for a moment.

"Is that how your mother died? She got sick?" Kagome asked as her fingers began lazily tracing the elaborate purplish groove once more and he nodded. Truth be told, it felt nice to have her touch him so intimately. When she usually tended to his injuries touch was just a means to an end. Deliberate and purposeful. This was...

He shivered slightly at the sensation.

"Sorry," she cringed as she retracted her hand, "Did that hurt?"

"No. Just cold is all," he lied softly, "You can keep looking if you want."

"There's so many," she murmured sadly as her fingers splayed out against his back and he had to bite his lip to keep from moaning. This wasn't bad. This wasn't bad at all. Why had he fought her again?

"What's this one?" she asked as one finger pressed lightly into a crescent shaped groove above his shoulder blade. He shrugged and the movement caused the marred flesh to crumple around her fingertip.

"I get injured a lot Kagome. You can't expect me to remember each time," he sighed.

"I..." the miko began as she lifted her hand and leaned over to look at his face, "I've been working on using my power to heal injuries. Since you're human right now, would you mind if I practiced? Maybe I can fade some of them. If you want."

The prospect of Kagome basically giving him a massage was very, very tempting. Whatever she wanted to try obviously wasn't going to work but who was he to say no to a pretty girl wanting to run her hands all over him?

He nodded before a satisfied hum escaped him when her palms suddenly pressed against the base of his back, applying slightly more pressure as they began sliding upwards before running down his sides. Again and again and again until he was panting slightly.

His mind lazily drifted into a less than innocent direction as he allowed himself to pretend that she still somehow found him attractive and her hands were running over him for an entirely different reason. It was especially easy to fantasize when her fingers trailed over his hip bone. A little too easy.

This needed to stop before he did something else to fuck up the best thing that had ever happen to him.

"I think that's enough," he sighed as he pushed himself back up into a sitting position.

"I got rid of a few," she offered with a proud little smile that had his heart melting.

"Did you?" he laughed before his face fell and his insecurity peeked out its head in his mind. He needed to get ahold of himself before he got his hopes up.

"I still can't do deeper scars but..." she admitted before trailing off when she noticed how he was withdrawing into himself.

"Hey, what's wrong?" she asked before mentally smacking herself upside the head. She was just winning the asking stupid questions game tonight, wasn't she?

"I have a scar too," she offered and he glanced at her in confusion, "Do you want to see?"

Before he could respond, she was pulling her shirt up and his eyes nearly bugged out of his head as smooth creamy flesh he'd never gotten a good look at before was exposed for his viewing pleasure. Not only was he allowed to look, he was expected to look and his little, very male heart could barely handle it.

"See? Where the jewel popped out," she commented oblivious to his inner struggle. It wasn't nearly as bad as she thought it was but it was still rather deep. The hot pink puckered blemish the only thing even remotely flawed about her stomach. His hand moved before he could stop himself. His calloused palm resting on her waist as his thumb gently caressed the mark. Trailing up and down over the scar while the sensation of his hand on her skin overwhelmed his system.

His eyes trailed over the light tan curves of her stomach. His mind trying to commit the sight to memory. Counting every freckle and taking note of every minute detail.

"Still beautiful," he whispered more to himself than her before he inhaled sharply and retracted his hand like it burned. He hadn't meant to say that out loud dammit. He hadn't...

"You...you think I'm beautiful?" Kagome asked softly and his heart plummeted to the bottom of his stomach as he waited for the axe to fall. Her hands lowering her shirt slowly as her sapphire eyes tried to read his mortified expression.

Smiling softly, she scooter closer to him and he flinched.

"You think I'm pretty," she teased and his humiliation only grew as he glared at the floor to his side. That was a stupid thing to say. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. St...

He gasped softly when her lips suddenly were pressed against his own. Each meeting slow and lingering and coaxing him to respond and with a soft groan he did.

Panting heavily several long heated moments later, he stared at her in utter confusion.

"Why'd you do that?" he managed to breathe.

"Because I think you're pretty too."

InuYasha snorted before pulling her in so he could kiss her again.

#Inuyasha FanFiction #Inuyasha #Kagome #InuKag #FFN #ao3 #fanfic writers #inuyasha fanfiction #inukag fanfic #i'm lazy #second verse same as the first

[kaepop-trash]

the miscellaneous are back! please ever since you made doyoung an absolute no in of snakes and lions i've been a mess. i need more of him anything but maybe doyoung and oc getting together or breaking up? i know i shouldn't but i feel so sad for him.

The Miscellaneous never left! My inbox is always open for them. Send any whenever you want, if you’re curious about something about the character. I can’t promise to always be as quick to reply as I was with this, I just happened to have some time and and the moment I read your ask the idea came to me. But irrespective, I will reply to all asks.

I did both getting together and breaking up. I was hoping this both justifies you feeling bad for him but also explains why it was one of the doomed ones. Kim Doyoung truly my king of doomed romances (haha) In case you want a genuinely well-written story that has a lot of similar elements but has Doyoung as the main lead, you should go read @notnctu‘s hogwarts au Push&Pull. It was incredible and I’m still not over it. For now, here’s what you wanted.

--

"No." (Y/N) furrowed her brows.

"No?" Doyoung raised his.

"No." She repeated herself.

Doyoung frowned, caught off-guard by her response. He chewed on the flesh inside his mouth till it was swollen.

He took a struggling breath, trying to keep his voice patient. "I'm asking you out on a date, (Y/N). After we've been sleeping together for three months. And you're saying no?" 

"Precisely." She didn't seem phased.

"Why?" His brows furrowed further, a look only Kim Doyoung could pull off.

"Because." She blinked twice, fluttering her gaze away from his intense stare, "You're clearly infatuated with that Gryffindor girl. You have been since 7th year. Sex is fine. But I'm not going to be anybody's emotional substitute." She stared at the grains of the wooden table before looking out the window, the library overlooking the grounds.

"You aren't a substitute. I used to like Jisoo." He sat down on the chair beside her.

She scoffed, turning to him. "And now, what? You like me? Why because I let you fuck me when she won't?" She scoffed again, a lump forming in her throat despite herself.

"No." He put his hand on her cheek, turning her to face him. "Because we're the same, you and I. Because I thought that you understood that I was falling for you despite me having to say it. Because despite myself, I found myself coming back to you over and over." He blinked.

A bitter smile formed on her lips, "I don't want to be someone a person likes despite their better judgement."

Doyoung groaned, "You're making this so much harder than it needs to be." He frowned again.

"Good." She interjected. "I didn't ask for this." She groaned herself when her vision blurred from tears she tried to blink away.

She hated him. 

She hated him for kissing her that one night three months ago in the library. She hated him for leaving without a word and then coming back the next day for more. She hated him for saying all the right things in her ears while he was deep inside her. But most of all she hated herself for allowing herself to grow feelings for him while knowing better.

"Please." His voice was a soft plea, it made her heart flutter. "Just try it. Go out with me once." He took her cold hands in his clammy ones, the heat spreading through her, "If at any point I do anything to hurt you then put some dreadful potion in a glass and give it to me. Or hex me. But don't just push this away without giving it a try." 

She knew this would be wrong. She knew she should say no. But against her better judgement, she kissed him instead.

_

Doyoung knew that out of all the way to deal with fights, walking away wasn't the best. But he also knew himself, he knew it was better than saying things he did not mean in a moment's anger.

He drew in an irritated breath, frustrated with everything. Everything was impossibly hard with (Y/N). They both felt with equal ferocity but stayed silent about most things. It was one of the similarities they had that had turned into a vice over the years; a long relationship of bitter things left unsaid till it was spat in a fit of rage. 

He looked over the viaduct at the gaping precipice it stood over. Caught off-guard by the sound of shuffling footsteps as they came and stood beside him. He wasn't sure how he missed it.

"Oh hey it is you! I was wondering if I was seeing correctly." A voice he knew too well made him look away from the edge to upturned eyes.

He hadn't seen her in a while, the castle was large enough for that to happen sometimes, but age only made Jisoo more beautiful. He blushed when he realised he was staring at her.

"I haven't seen you ever since I dropped potions for divination. I used to think the castle wasn't that big, but I guess not huh?" She bumped her shoulder with his as she placed her elbows on the balustrade, looking down at where he was looking before. "What are we looking at?" She questioned, eyes focusing on searching whatever he was looking at.

"Nothing." He spoke too soon, his voice too gruff.

She looked up at him, lips parted and eyes wide. Then something seemed to click inside, "Oh. I interrupted some deep thought, didn't I?" She winced.

"No!" He defended, again too quick. He cleared his throat, looking away and trying to level his voice, "Nothing too deep." He dismissed.

She scoffed, “You’re always thinking something deep. You’re the smart one.” Her words stirred something inside Doyoung. 

He cursed himself.

"You look good, Doyoung." Her words made his neck snap to face her. She bit her lip, fluttering her gaze away from his. He noted the pink tint of her cheeks, eyes furrowing in confusion.

What was going on?

Jisoo took a step back from the edge, her form lingering as she turned to him, "It was nice to see you again Doyoung. Really nice. You've really grown into yourself." Her eyes brushed against his shoulders and it was his turn to blush.

"Thank you." The words were spat out, distracted. She gave him one last breathtaking smile before turning and walking into the fog that had settled on the grounds.

_

Doyoung was sure he had forgotten to breathe when he heard his door open. (Y/N) stood at the door, first with a look of devastation in her eyes and then nothing. Her hand gripped the handle so tight that it creaked under the assault.

"(Y/N), baby." He pushed Jisoo off his lap with a swift motion. Getting out of his bed and following her while she walked out of his rooms and to the stairs. Not caring that he wasn't wearing a shirt.

"(Y/N)!" He cried out, grabbing her arm desperately. A pain shot through the arm he used to grab her, noticing her wand in the other hand.

“Touch me again and I will honour your promise and hex you. Go back to your room, Doyoung. You are shirtless and have an erection. Don’t embarrass yourself and more importantly, do not embarrass me.” Her eyes welled up but her voice was hollow.

Panic clawed up Doyoung’s throat till it burned worse than his arm, “Darling, please.” He begged, grabbing her shoulder. He flew back from another unspoken spell, hitting the wall beside his door with a loud thud and a vicious crack in his arm. He sat helplessly and heard the echoes of her rushing down the stairs of the tower.

When he walked back into the room, Jisoo was sitting at the edge of his bed. Her shirt still had the buttons of the top half open, her chest exposed.

“You’re hurt.” She looked at her arm, twisted at an excruciating angle.

“Leave.” His voice was frigid.

She ignored his words, “Let me look at your arm.” She got up.

“Get out, Jisoo.” He repeated with more anger. Her steps faltered.

She looked up at him, her eyes fighting between guilt from what happened and the hurt his voice made her feel, “She’s gone, Doyoung.” She felt small as the words left her, “I’m still here.” She took a few steps closer.

“Exactly.” He spat the word at her, “I was wrong. I made a mistake. Now she’s gone.” There was a passing pain in his eyes, one that turned to bitter ice when they met hers, “And you’re still here.” While he felt utterly ashamed at the moment, it was easier to lash out on the person in front of him.

“Doyoung.” Her voice quivered as tears fell from her eyes, “Please.” She looked to the floor.

“You aren’t her, Jisoo. You’re just a beautiful face I was infatuated with my entire childhood. (Y/N) is my other half, you can’t be that.” He turned away from her, searching for his shirt on the floor.

“Then why?” She whispered, “Why did you sleep with me? Why did you do it thrice?” Her voice gained in volume and hatred. Doyoung was glad he wasn’t in front of her when the words made him wince.

He looked up at her and shrugged, “I told you. I wanted to know how it would feel to have what I wanted for so many years. It wasn’t that great.” He tried to keep his eyes bored.

She stared at him in disbelief before biting down her jaw. She looked away and buttoned her shirt back up, “Then I guess you just saved two people from wasting their time on a vile person like you.” She looked up when she was done. He suppressed the effect of the sting her words caused again, giving her nothing in his eyes. She huffed one last time, picking up what she had left of her dignity and left with the head held high.

Doyoung slowly sat down on his bed, putting his head on the palm of one hand, while his broken arm stayed limp beside him. Taking a shaky breath, he let the pain that seared from the fractured bone feel like a well-deserved punishment..

#of snakes and lions #jaehyun #doyoung #nct #miscellaneous #hogwarts!au

[rantheon]

the bakarina anime is done! it’s just a drop in the ocean that is the otome isekai genre so these are some recs + what you need to know about them. i just listed most of my favs otherwise it’d be too long :p

in no particular order. includes some non-isekai ones too. needless to say most of these aren’t completed yet

my next life as a villainess: all routes lead to doom

using this to plug that there’s more bakarina content in the form of light novels, manga and 3 spin-offs

an observation record of my fiancee - a self-proclaimed villainess

told in the pov of prince cecil, whose fiancee bertia straight up tells him she’s a villainess of an otome game from her past life

if you ever wonder what jeord from bakarina might be thinking half the time, this is probably close. cecil is the same kind of prince who initially finds things bored and predictable until they met the mc

the things cecil would get up to for bertia? hoo boy

also the way the mangaka draws hair is addicting to look at

the villainess cecilia silvie doesn’t want to die so she decided to crossdress

the title speaks for itself~ after remembering an otome game she played in her past life, cecil (previously cecilia) is now the one capturing the hearts of the academy ladies instead

it’s fairly new so there’s not much of it yet :c but it’s pretty interesting

the original otome game had a whole rpg combat system going on and i’m hyped to see how it’s gonna lead the story

the Angelique vibes are strong in this one

the villainess wants to marry a commoner

isabella used to play an otome game in a past life, but she was really only interested in a side character named ursch. and then one day she finds him in her mansion garden

her past life self is such a mood - i too have 100% otome games in hopes of side characters getting hidden routes but alas

definitely deserves the ‘video game’ tag. isabella can see status screens and character stats/skills etc, and all the gacha rewards and grinding transferred over after her reincarnation. she’s the isekai female protag we’ve always wanted

seriously the main ship is too op for their own good aha

deathbound duke’s daughter

in a past life, erika only managed to finish 2.5/7 scenarios of an otome game thanks to an unlucky encounter with knife-kun. with the different flags of her impending doom approaching, she takes things into her own hands years before the game events start

very fantasy-oriented (the most on this list) and pretty action-packed, once you get past the game exposition in the first 3? chapters

the world building is brilliant, from the hafan mages to the aurelian alchemists, and there’s beasts and wands and spells and dnd stuff sprinkled in

the cast has quite interesting dynamics and interwoven plotlines, and they’re all dorky in their way :>

beware of the villainess

melissa remembers a novel from her past life and desperately tries to cut off contact with the male leads, but they still make her life hell & she rages

she’s just so done with everyone and you can’t help but relate to her

definitely the funniest on this list XD melissa and her reactions takes the cake but even the shit characters are hilarious in their own way

there’s also a lot of parodies to memes etc & best of all, there’s cussing. all the shits and fucks. a whole lot of it

it’s great

death is the only ending for the villainess

penelope wakes up as the villainess from a game she’d been playing in her past life, only right now it's on the hardest difficulty where death is literally everywhere. thus she tries, well, not dying

what’s cool about this is that penelope has access to the original game system. she can see menus, choice options etc. the male leads even have affection percentages floating above their heads :> which is always cool to see (and what i’m a sucker for)

but it’s definitely one of the darker ones on this list. iirc there’s depictions of violence, abuse, drugs and then some. just a fair warning

the daughter of albert house wishes for ruin

upon realizing that she’s the villainess from a past-life otome game, mary decides to stay as one. chaos ensues

i love this manga so much, everyone is so quirky and there’s something to laugh about on almost every page. the story almost feels self-aware of itself and just lets the characters do whatever. like ride bikes

addie is so cute ;o;

it’s definitely something everyone should experience

i’m a villainess daughter so i’m going to keep the last boss

one of the finished ones!

post-annulment, aileen pulls a Lisa Tepes and asks the demon king claude to marry her. he refuses. hijinks ensues

mostly on the fantasy side, as it builds on the world of the monsters

the cast is pretty fun! aileen’s smart, funny and pretty competent in her own right. plus she and claude are positively adorable together

milady just wants to relax

post-annulment, ronia decides to open a cafe in the countryside. it later becomes the frequent hangout of a beastmen mercenary group, who are intensely feared by the townsfolk

well... beastmen. that’s all you need to know /wink

okay, that aside, it’s just as chill as the title suggests. ronia slowly makes friends she can trust, and the beastmen find a second home in the only cafe that’s willing to accept them. it’s pretty wholesome

the banished villainess! living the leisurely life of a nun making revolutionary food

despite actively trying to change her ‘villainess from a past-life otome game’ fate since childhood, elizabeth gets annulled, her noble title stripped, and is sent to a church in a neighboring kingdom. she enjoys it more than expected, despite the appearance of the ever watchful leonid

there’s plenty of 21st-century food like sandwiches, cotton candy leonid’s muscles <3

the entire cast is lovable, and can chris get an f for all the heart attacks leonid keep giving him

seduce the villain’s father

yereninovica (or just yerenica) realizes that she’s in the world of a novel she read in her past life, but as the aunt of said novel’s mc. after thwarting a kidnapping that’s basically the mc’s origin story, she takes it upon herself to also prevent the tragic death of emperor belgoat

a bit different since it switches the roles around (side character x side character) and goes into the “parent generation�� of the original work

there’s also an interesting bit where the world seems to recognize her as a hijacker, and where that takes her, we’ll see in due time :o:

plus the way yeni habitually calls him ‘father’ cracks me up every time

transferred to another world but i’m the savior of an otome game

after a ritual gone wrong, “yamada tarou” (fake name) is stuck in the world of an otome game. the only way back is with a magical ring, normally obtained after becoming the lover of one of the male leads. he of course says no i’m going adventuring but the game doesn’t like that

it’s absolutely hilarious - the leads treat our mc like a heroine, and there’s a lot of otome tropes that are called out on/parodied. like the seiyuus’ names oh my god

tarou’s reactions are great and his appraisal skill is the funniest thing alive

endo and kobayashi’s live commentary on the villainess

in modern japan, endo and kobayashi start their playthrough of an otome game, which becomes a bit glitchy and odd. they discover that siegward, a male lead in the game, can hear what they’re saying. they use this chance to finally give lisolette a happier ending

much of the story’s focus is on the characters slowly warming up to lisolette, and a bit on endo/kobayashi’s irl relationship. despite being the primary drive of the story, lisolette herself hardly moves the plot - if you know what i mean

regardless it’s undeniably adorable

tearmoon empire

no isekai, more of time travel? chronoskimming?

mia wakes up 10 years in the past after being sentenced to death. now afraid of guillotine-kun, she strives to solve the issues in her kingdom that had previously led to her doom

a bit similar to bakarina in terms of concept: avoid death flags, unknowingly recruits the people she meets into her little saintess cult. the misinterpretation is very strong, and in brilliantly funny ways

it has really fun narration ngl especially in the light novel

of course, i’ll claim palimony!

to prepare for her annulment, yulia starts scheming recording her fiance’s meetups with the heroine to use as evidence. if you’re gonna lose a suitor, might as well get some money out of it, right? along the way she gets involved with rudonik, one of the male leads

no reincarnation. rather than an otome game, the villainess story comes from a book written by a side character, and the “heroine” just decided to play it out in real life

the cast together is a riot, and it’s entertaining to watch yulia only think in profits and every connection she can make to achieve it

the villainess’ slow prison life began with her broken engagement

no isekai, just a plain old villainess

post-annulment, rachel is sentenced to imprisonment. which she enjoys and is thoroughly, hilariously prepared for

everyone’s a little afraid of rachel and for good reason. it’s better to find out yourself through the LN or manga, but let’s just say that even the king doesn’t want to deal with her XD

the holy grail of eris

now this one is interesting, putting the villainess trope into a mystery ghost story. that said, no isekai either

our innocent heroine constance attends a party and encounters scarlet, an executed villainess from ten years ago. a body possession and some public embarrassment later, they decide to team up to solve the mystery that might be behind scarlet’s death

i mean, ghost villainess? sign me up

+ some honorable mentions

i favor the villainess (the heroine goes for the villainess- girls? girls? yes)

a bellicose lady got reincarnated (a delinquent reincarnates as a heroine; what a concept :o unfortunately there’s not a lot of english content for it yet)

it seems i got reincarnated into a yandere otome game (i like that the mc actively makes it so that game can’t ever happen the way it should; plus, yanderes are always interesting to study)

inso’s law (modern isekai, and quite cute!)

the reincarnated young lady aims to be an adventurer / holy guardian tiger (similar to deathbound duke’s daughter in that there’s more of a focus on the fantasy aspect)

expecting to fall into ruin, i aim to become a blacksmith (so far the only one with a shounen tag that i like; its main charm is probably the cast and their interactions with each other eliza best girl)

since i’ve reincarnated as the villainess’ father i’ll shower my wife and daughter with love (big big wholesome vibes)

level 99 villainous daughter (severely op lady who takes no shit from the people looking down at her, and regularly thinks about blowing up the academy within the first 4 chapters? hell yeah)

may i please just ask one last thing? (post-annulment, the mc literally punches everyone in the room; it’s great)

this is getting long now oops

edit: i also made a visual-friendly personally-tagged-by-me bookshelf here!

#masterpost #otome isekai reviews #rip tags i'll just stick to the english titles #my next life as a villainess #an observation record of my fiancee - a self proclaimed villainess #the villainess cecilia silvie doesn’t want to die so she decided to crossdress #the villainess wants to marry a commoner #deathbound duke's daughter #beware of the villainess #death is the only ending for the villainess #the daughter of albert house wishes for ruin #i'm a villainess daughter so i'm going to keep the last boss #milady just wants to relax #the banished villainess! living the leisurely life of a nun making revolutionary food #seduce the villain's father #transferred to another world but i'm the savior of an otome game #endo and kobayashi's live commentary on the villainess #tearmoon empire #of course i'll claim palimony! #the villainess' slow prison life #the holy grail of eris #i favor the villainess #a bellicose lady got reincarnated #it seems i got reincarnated into a yandere otome game #inso's law #holy guardian tiger #expecting to fall into ruin i aim to become a blacksmith #since i've reincarnated as the villainess' father i'll shower my wife and daughter with love #level 99 villainess daughter #may i please just ask one last thing

[hello-im-not-a-possum]

One man’s curse is another man’s blessing (Prompt: Nightmare)

The raven monster looked around frantically for an escape, he was in the woods again, his woods, his home. But he was being hunted. He could sense the villain pursuing him, like so many of its kind, it came with fire, traps, and a crude understanding of what he was. But unlike the other hunters who had all fallen before him, this one knew the ways of magic and knew how to use them against the feathered king of the forest.

“Mr. Lawrence?”

For the first time in the beast’s life, he genuinely feared what would happen to him, he was terrified of this one-legged hunter who would otherwise be nothing but an appetizer to him. His eyes widened as he caught sight of the hunter, the man was looking directly at him and taking careful aim with his gun...

“Mr. Lawrence?”

Not wanting to get shot with whatever magical concoction the hunter undoubtedly put in the bullets, the raven spread his wings and flew away.

*BANG*

*CRRAAACK*

As the tree fell on his back and he fruitlessly struggled to get out of his self-made prison, he cursed himself for being so stupid! The hunter wasn’t aiming at him, he was aiming at the old tree!

“Mr. Lawrence?”

The Raven king’s blood turned into ice as he heard the uneven yet steady footsteps approaching him, his life flashed before his eyes as he part of him wondered what the hunter’s goal was. Did it come to strip the beast of his lovely iridescent-black feathers? Did it come to take him down for sport? Or did it come to avenge the others that he had killed? He howled and flapped his free wing as hard as he could as his hunter came closer and closer to him...

“’EY SAMMY! SOMEONE’S TRYIN’ TA SPEAK TA YA!”

Sammy snapped back to the present; he was human, in the studio’s break room, there were other people here, some of them looked at him like he was either hurt, crazy, or both.

“Huh?! What?! Oh. ...What was the question again?”

“I just asked how you and Joey met each other...”

“Right, that...” Sammy pinched the bridge of his nose, took a deep breath and recited the detail-scrubbed truth he had told many times before. “He was on a hunting trip and he trespassed on my property. It was dark, and he was firing his gun near me. So at the time, I thought he was out to kill me.”

“Oh.”

“He’s still embarrassed about it and I don’t like remembering it.” Sammy took a long sip from his coffee. “And for future reference, my name’s not “Mr. Lawrence”, Just call me Sammy.”

“Okay then...”

“If that’s all you wanted from me,” He stood up from his seat, taking the coffee mug with him “then I’m going back to work.”

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

His talons were dulled and cut, his sharp beak was given the same treatment, his beautiful, glossy feathers that practically sparkled under sunlight and had been the envy of the world of monsters and world of mankind alike had all been plucked out. He stood naked and helpless in a form he had called his prey as long as he could remember, and was told that it was his true form.

Sammy Lawrence woke up from his nightmare in a cold sweat to discover that he had fallen asleep with his charm on, keeping him in what he called his “work skin”. Reaching for the charm Joey gave him and ripping it off, he sighed in relief as he saw his human body getting covered in feathers. But paused in confusion as he saw no further changes take place.

“Don’t panic...” he told himself as he fumbled around in the dark for the phone. “Don’t panic...” he repeated as he punched in Joey’s number. “Don’t panic...” he repeated again as the phone rang.

“Hello?” Joey’s groggy voice answered “Sammy, what time is it-”

“JOEY SYLVESTER DREW, WHAT THE FUCK DID YOUR CURSED NECKLACE DO TO ME?!”

“Sammy, what happened?!” The bird monster heard shuffling on the other line, most likely Joey getting his shoes and coat on. “Can you describe the problem?”

“When I took it off, it wouldn’t let me change back all the way!”

“That’s... unusual...”

“Does sleeping in it effect the charm’s power?”

“Physically, no, it shouldn’t do that.” Joey grabbed some of his spell books off the shelves “Unless you were wearing it for literal years without taking it off, but I highly doubt that’s what’s going on.”

The bird monster heard the sounds of tires screeching.

“Joey?”

“Yes, Sammy?”

“...Are you driving while talking on the phone again?”

“That’s not the issue at hand, are there any other details about your condition that you need to tell me?”

“Joey you idiot, you’re going to get yourself killed if you keep pulling shit like this! Either hang up the phone or I will!”

“Good news, I’m pulling into your driveway as we speak!”

Sammy slapped his forehead in frustration as he hung up the phone. Sure enough, as he looked outside his window he saw the familiar beat-up Rolls Royce that had somehow managed to survive being Joey’s car for at least fifteen years. The same car Joey threw him into all those years ago.

He exited his house and saw Joey hobble out of the driver’s seat trying to balance the almost comedically large stack of books he had brought with him with his cane.

“Need help?”

“It would be appreciated.”

Sammy wordlessly took the large stack out of Joey’s hands and led him into his ‘home’.

As soon as the pair were in, Joey immediately went to work on trying to figure out what went wrong, flipping through his large stack of books and poking and prodding at Sammy’s feather-covered form.

“Did you recently eat or drink anything that felt ‘off’ to you?”

“No.”

“Have you recently been in or near areas that belong to the fae and or any other supernatural being?”

“Do I look like an insane dumbass?”

“First off: Hey! Second off: What about people, did you recently meet someone who you felt was out to get you and or had strong magical abilities?”

“Not any that know about my “Condition” as you call it.”

“Oh dear...”

“What is it?!”

‘Oh dear’, ‘oh no’, ‘oops’, and ‘oh well’ were the four worst phrases Sammy could ever hear Joey say.

“Sammy, how much are you aware about the nature of your condition?”

“I’ve been a raven monster for as long as I could remember, sometimes I would change my size for convenience's sake and could somewhat alter my form to have an extra pair of talons in my wings if I wanted, and then after you stole me from my forest, I could look like a somewhat-normal human being with your charm.”

“I meant, what do you know about the background of your condition, do you know why you have it?” 

“Well, there was what Allison said, but I still think she was just spouting hogwash to convince me I’m one of you people...”

“What was it?”

“According that fortune teller friend of yours, my ‘curse’ was put on me by my mom’s relatives. They couldn’t stand the fact that she eloped with a black man so they “cursed me to take the form of a monster he’d grow the boy into anyway” and that it would only be broken when I found my “Real family”. But I’m pretty sure that if I had a human family that wanted me, they’d look for me.”

“That makes explaining this slightly easier;” Joey sighed. “Sammy, did you know that magic takes more than just blood relations into account of who your family is? In fact, spiritual family connections that are mutual between two parties tend to be stronger than blood family connections.”

“I think you’ve said something like that before...” 

“I’m telling you this because I think that you’ve loosened your curse.”

The bird man blinked in disbelief.

“Are you telling me..?”

Joey twiddled his thumbs sheepishly as he spoke, the man was clearly uncomfortable to break the news to him.

“You are genuinely a human being, and your curse is slowly but surely being lifted.”

Sammy stared at Joey wide-eyed with his visible skin was white as a sheet. He left the room and Joey heard muffled screaming coming from that area.

“Now Sammy, I’m sure you have a lot of mixed feelings about this, but I know we’re bound to find a solution somehow!”

The muffled screaming continued as Sammy was still taking in the fact that his worst personal nightmare was real and happening right now. The songbird musician felt sick to his stomach... He used to eat humans for fuck’s sake! They were one of his favorite meats before meeting Joey, and now he was being told that he was one?!

“Sammy?”

And the pack... Without him, what would happen to the werewolf pack in the studio?! He needed his wings to properly watch after them! Even if they knew his scent too well to attack him while they were wolfed out, a human being is much slower and weaker than a pack of werewolves, they could get themselves hurt, or worse, killed if he couldn’t keep up with them! And what if one of them accidentally turned him?! None of them would ever be able to live with the emotional turmoil of that!

“Sammy..?”

He was useless now! Nothing more than a pathetic wreck of a human being who had thrown away all his value because he let his guard down, got too soft in the humans’ world, too comfortable talking with them... And now he doomed himself to be one of them, and the wolf pack to a terrible fate.

“Sammy.”

The musician felt a reassuring hand on his back, and looked up to see Joey Drew’s concerned face.

“Take a few days off if you need them, I can understand if you need space to sort all of this out.”

He stayed silent as he thought over his situation.

As it turned out, taking some space was exactly what he needed. All it took was a few days back in the woods, far away from the studio, and the people there and he was back to his former glory, only turning human again when he put on Joey’s cursed trinket.

He knew he’d have to return eventually, but when he did, he’d know better than to let his guard down again.

#hauntober #nightmare #bendy and the ink machine #batim monster au #sammy lawrence #joey drew #fanfic

[theonceoverthinker]

A Tumultuous Embrace (2/5) (Golden Hook)

Summary: Captain Hook and Rumplestiltskin have wronged many a man in their days as villains, so many in fact that they’ve unknowingly overlapped on more than one occasion. What are they going to do when two of those cases want revenge and know exactly how to best take it? Now trapped together in a beyond compromising position, will Killian and Rumple be able to work together to fight against impossible odds and get home, or will their lingering hatred of each other prove to be their shared doom as they literally go down together? Chapter 1

AO3      Fanfiction.net

Dynamics Featured: Golden Hook

Content Warning: Guns (They’re not fired off, but they are present)

A/N: Thank you to all who read the last chapter! I've been really excited to release this small MC. I love forced proximity premises and plot lines and who makes for better characters to force together than Rumple and Killian, am I fucking right?! XD In that vein, I really tried to be careful when writing both Rumple and Killian so that they were a balance as to how reasonable, petty, and sympathetic they would be in relation to each other. I hope I did a good job, but if not, let me know, okay? 

This is the whump heavy chapter! Well...maybe discomfort is the better word for it, you know? There's no graphic violence, BUT it leans on whump, so I still wanted to label it accordingly.

Tagging @sherlockianwhovian, @killian-whump, @justsomewhump, @black-wolf066, @therooksshiningknight, @wyntereyez, @darkpoisonouslove, and @z-aliada. If you do (Or don’t, I promise I won’t be offended) want to be tagged in upcoming chapters of this fic, please let me know!

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

CHAPTER 2: A TUMULTUOUS AWAKENING

The first thing that greeted Killian in his journey back to consciousness was a pressing, splitting headache. 

He personally preferred a kiss from Emma, but he’d take being alive for the moment as acceptable.

His life had certainly produced far worse ways to wake up.

Killian gingerly opened his eyes, and with that opening came the return of a torturous heap of memories.

Horace and Jasper had attacked him. And they’d actually gotten the jump on him. 

At least that solved one mystery.

Was it bad that his first instinct was to be embarrassed about losing to them?

Either way, the annoyingly still present headache that plagued him wouldn’t let him focus on that matter with any significant level of attention. 

So Killian attempted to soothe it. 

Killian moved to bring his right hand up to his forehead, but was stopped. 

Something had a hold on his arm. 

He then attempted to move him arm downwards to escape what had been holding him in place, only to stop upon feeling a tugging sensation in his left elbow.

Were they connected?

In a third attempt to move his arms, Killian discovered that the answer to that inquiry was a disappointing ‘yes.’

What was going on here?

Without moving his head, Killian looked around. While his view was limited, the chrome lining of the walls told him that the building was industrial in nature. It reminded him of the local cannery. 

And the only place that hosted buildings like those was the docks.

Great. Not only had no one seen him be taken, but now no one was likely in the vicinity to hear his cries for help, should he give them -- and given that he had a feeling that with his assailants likely close by, he shouldn’t.

Well, that solved another mystery, or at least part of one, for even though he knew what building he was in, what he needed to learn was where exactly his body was.

Killian felt around a bit before coming to his conclusion.

He was bound, but by no means in an ordinary position. 

While his left forearm was out in the open, albeit without his hook -- much to Killian’s frustration -- everything from his left elbow and up was clenched tightly, unable to move. Attached to his left elbow was his right hand. He had a bit more freedom there, namely in his elbow, but not by much.

And it soon resonated with him that between his body and limbs, there was something else.

It was something soft.

It was something warm.

It was something LIVING.

Killian made another, this time more cautious, move backwards, only nudging his head as opposed to his entire body. He released a sigh of relief when the movement was successful, but the sigh died in his throat upon seeing the sight in front of him.

There were few things Killian Jones ever expected to wake up to these days.

At the very bottom of that list, there resided the possibility of ever waking up in Rumplestiltskin’s arms.

But lo and behold, that’s where he was, holding his enemy cheek-to-cheek even tighter than he often held his own wife.

Immediately forgetting what had happened mere moments ago, Killian -- who had only just held back from letting out a surprised shout -- made a sharp move to recoil himself from the unwanted embrace, but was met by a just as immediate blowback as he and Rumple slammed back into each other. 

NO…

Killian ignored his better judgment and made another attempt to pull away, but was foiled yet again, and just like last time, their torsos all but clapped when they met once more.

A stinging sensation reverberated through Killian’s body, but as his circumstances -- like Rumple’s body a mere moment ago -- hit him, he could hardly find it in him to care.

They were completely, immovably, almost impossibly stuck together.

Killian listened for any signs of Horace and Jasper’s presence -- nervous that his reckless instinctual movements may have alerted them to the fact that he was awake -- but thankfully, the room they were in remained quiet. Had they been present, Killian had no doubt that they’d likely be laughing their asses off.

Had Horace and Jasper been in their situations, Killian knew he would be.

Once his fears over Horace and Jasper were momentarily put at ease, Killian’s heart sank. Truly, they were stuck together, and at least until Rumple woke up, there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.

Now that the immediate adrenaline of his discovery had worn off -- or at least part of it, Killian could feel a set of hands bound against the back of his jacket, confirming fears that rivaled Horace and Jasper’s appearance -- that similarly to how Killian was bound to Rumple, Rumple was bound to him. The only difference between their nearly mirrored positions was that because of his lack of a left hand, Killian was instead bound by his left elbow. 

But even that light luxury came with a price. The distance between one’s wrist and elbow was great and the result was that their bodies were pushed even closer together than they would’ve had Killian had both hands.

Just another reason to hate his crocodile…the crocodile he was now bound to in a manner that was inherently intimate.

And wait...was that DROOL oozing over his right cheek?

Killian was getting another headache, but for a completely different reason.

For whatever torture Horace and Jasper had intended for him, they’d definitely succeeded. 

But that begged the question: Given that this was likely but the first step of said torture, what else did they have in store for them?

If there was one thing Killian knew for sure, it was that he was not eager to find out, and even less eager to deal with it with Rumplestiltskin of all people quite literally by his side.

And just as Killian had given his enemy another thought, from his right side, he heard a soft groan.

It seemed like Rumple was about to wake up. 

()()()()()()()()()()()()()

The last time that Rumple had been shushed as he woke up, it was by his wife in their bedroom as she cradled their son in her arms. It made for a memory that would likely rank in Rumple’s top five for the most pleasant moments in his life.

This time, it would make for one of the LEAST pleasant moments.

Rumple didn’t know how to react when he woke up only to see Captain Hook, quite literally right in his face, staring back at him, and shushing him all the while.

Well, that wasn’t true -- his anger set in quickly enough. 

After barely a beat passed, Rumple attempted to push his enemy away, only to discover two unwelcome surprises.

The first was that he could barely move his hands.

The second was that the little that his hands could move only proceeded to push the two of them closer together.

And they were already far too close to each other for Rumple’s liking, all but nose-to-nose and apparently completely unable to do a thing about it. 

Rumple had a million questions to ask, but settled on the most general of them.

“What the hell is going on?” he hissed, firmly, yet quietly. He wanted to scream his demand for information, but he had a feeling that whatever was going on, if Hook was trying to protect him of all people, and especially given their position, it was probably in his best interest to listen...for now, at least.

Hook bit his lip. 

“I don’t know,” Hook whispered, his lips disgustingly close to Rumple’s ear. Rumple attempted to jerk his head back in response, but to little payoff. Hook, apparently resigned to their situation, proceeded. “I was attacked on my way home from work earlier. The kidnappers knocked me out and apparently brought me here. I just woke up to this fresh torture.” Rumple could immediately hear the repulsed confusion in his fellow captive’s voice.

At the very least, Rumple took comfort in the fact that Hook found this position to be just as miserable as he did.

That said, that comfort amounted to little more than a hill of beans.

“I’ve no idea what they want with you, though,” Hook continued. His eyes then bulged, as if he realized something. “Can you use your magic to get us out of here?”

If Rumple had any agency over his hands, he’d hit himself for having not thought of that first.

Focused on their freedom, Rumple attempted to summon a force field between them, only to be crushed when he felt nothing happen.

Determined, Rumple tried another spell, annoyed to see that once again, it was a moot effort. 

And then he tried another.

And another.

He was about to try again, but he stopped upon feeling a very familiar patch of leather around his wrist just below his bindings.

“I can’t,” Rumple growled. “Whoever captured us managed to get that magic confining cuff on me.”

“That’s just great,” Hook muttered, his voiced laced with sarcasm. “Can you see anything that can help us on your end?” All I see in front of me is a wall.”

Rumple looked around, trying to make sense of where they were. He recognized the building as one that he owned, though the property sat abandoned after the previous lender passed away last year.

Apparently, someone -- someone with a bone to pick with Hook -- had decided to turn it into their playpen.

There was a desk across the way, and a dark truck backed into some otherwise free space beside it.

Suddenly, Rumple was able to make something out from the side of the truck.

There, in a grey and red logo along the center was a logo for ‘Horace and Jasper’s Discount Chimney Cleanings.’

And immediately, something clicked.

It wasn’t only Hook who these kidnappers had a problem with.

Rumple turned back to Hook, though given their proximity, it wasn’t as much a turn as it was a shift. Despite his efforts to make space between them, his nose hit Hook’s forehead.

“Can you back up a bit?”

“You know for a fact that I can’t,” Hook snarled. The two exchanged frustrated looks, but Hook’s soon partially dissolved into a curious one. “Anyway, what did you find out?” he whispered, clearly savy to the fact that Rumple had discovered something.

“Who captured us,” Rumple said, careful to keep his voice low.

“Yeah, Horace and Jasper.”

Rumple’s brow furrowed. “You know them?”

“Aye,” Hook said. “And you do as well?”

“Yes.”

“So why are they coming after you?” As he spoke, there was a nastiness in Hook’s tone, as if he expected the worst of stories from Rumple about how’d he’d come into contact with their captors.

Whether or not that was the case, Hook was hardly one to talk.

“Me? Why are they coming after YOU?”

Hook rolled his eyes. “Let me guess,” he grit. “They were victims of one of your deals?”

“And let ME guess: They were victims of your plunderings?”

The two of them glared at each other.

It was just Rumple’s luck that of everyone in this town, the one person he had to be bound to was the most insufferable, hypocritical, pain in the ASS around.

“I can only imagine the kind of scheme you pulled.”

Rumple scoffed. “And I can’t imagine your encounter with them was any nobler than mine.”

But before they could continue, another voice spoke up.

“Well, look at who’s finally awake?”

Horace’s voice had frozen their argument in its tracks. With much bumping and pain along the way, Rumple and Hook turned their heads towards the truck side of the room, their cheeks now pressed together like a sole to a shoe. 

But they couldn’t get too angry about that at the moment, for in front of them were two very familiar men with two very familiar types of weapons in hand.

A gun was pointed at the both of them and Rumple knew that they’d definitely use them if given a reason to.

He only hoped Hook knew that too.

“Didn’t think either of you would see us again, did you?” Jasper gloated, cackling under is breath.

“I’d have thought you two smart enough not to try,” Hook shot back, any fear that he may have had hidden like a master magician as he boldly kept his ground.

Damnit, he really was a reckless bastard, wasn’t he?

Not that Rumple could fully blame him -- though he wasn’t about to absolve him for it either.

Fortunately, or at least as fortunately as things could be given everything else, neither man shot their gun. If anything, the comment had amused them.

“You two think you’re so smart compared to us, don’t ya?” Jasper snickered. “Well, if we’re so dumb, how do you figure we all got here?”

“Trickery,” Rumple answered without missing a beat. Despite himself, he couldn’t ignore the opportunity to take his captors down a peg any better than Hook could. He wouldn’t give Horace and Jasper that satisfaction. “I know from experience that without the intelligence to back it up, it’s little more than the coward’s excuse for cleverness.” 

“Maybe so,” Jasper continued, twirling his gun before turning it back to them. 

“But there’s no denying its effectiveness,” Horace finished, eyeing his and Hook’s bodies as they clenched within their restraints. “By the way, do you like what we set up for you? Seeing as how you both had us locked up for so long,” Horace elaborated, “seems only fair to us that we pay you back in kind. And you even get a friend with you, just like Jasper and I had each other back in those filthy, blasted cells. But I have to admit, you two are far closer than we could ever be.” Horace and Jasper started laughing.

Rumple felt Hook’s hand ball up into a tight fist behind him and he could see him gritting his teeth from out of the corner of his eyes.

In truth, Rumple was doing the exact same thing.

“And now that you have us locked up, what are you going to do?” Rumple asked.

“Well, we figured we’d clean the slate, and why not start with cleaning you two out of our lives entirely.” Horace gestured towards the waterview on the other side of a nearby window. 

“You’re going to throw us into the ocean,” Rumple said. It was more of a statement than a question.

Horace smirked. “Everybody back in our world knew sooner or later, you’d be each other’s downfall. Jasper and I -- we thought in addition to bringing that day nearer, we’d make that literal on top of it.”

“You’ll never get away with this,” Hook growled. “Emma will stop you.”

“Assuming she finds you before you take your little one-way trip,” Jasper heckled. “But I assure you, she won’t and neither will anyone else for that matter.”

“Then if she can’t, WE will!” Hook insisted.

Immediately, Horace and Jasper barked out in laughter.

“I doubt that,” Horace mocked. “We know you two. You and that ‘dearie’ beside you couldn’t get along if your lives depended on it and considering where you are and what’s about to happen soon enough, that’s unlikely to change now.”

Rumple and Hook stayed silent. There were questions on Rumple’s mind, and he was sure the same could be said for Hook -- Why not just throw them off the docks now and get it over with, Why tell them anything, Why keep their mouths ungagged -- those were just a few of them. However, he and likely Hook knew that any premature prompting would deprive them of time they could put towards figuring a way out of this. And so they stayed as quiet as mice, naught for heavy breaths labored through the physical strain of balancing and supporting each other thanks to their binds.

Horace and Jasper smirked. 

“See?” Jasper gloated. “You two would die before working together.”

Hmm. They seemed to take their silence as less of a means of giving themselves a stay of execution and more as a symbol of resignation.

That could work to his and Hook’s advantage.

Rumple hated Hook, and Hook hated Rumple. Those were as much facts as that of the sky being blue. But more than either of them hated each other, they loved their families. For them, they could work together.

Horace and Jasper didn’t think much of that love, and for that, they would lose.

He once more studied Hook out of the corner of his eye, only to see Hook doing the same to him. 

There was a look in his eyes, telling Rumple that he had also realized their ace in the hole too.

Horace, with his gun still pointed at them, looked at his watch. “Jasper, let’s get back to the front. The sooner the cannery’s manager takes off for the night, the sooner we can give these two their one way cruise.”

Well, solved another mystery of their kidnapping.

Jasper nodded. “Good idea, Horace.” He then looked at Rumple and Hook. “And don’t either of you get to screaming,” Jasper said, gesturing towards his and Horace’s guns. “Because I promise, you won’t live long enough to save yourself from anything but a watery grave if you do.”

“But feel free to bicker all you want,” Hoarce implored, cackling as he started to walk away. “It’ll be more fun for us -- like listening to music on the radio, but so, so much sweeter.” Jasper joined in their laughter and as his and Horace’s forms disappeared, so did the sounds of their footsteps.

When they were at last out of sight, Hook moved onto his back and turned to Rumple. Both of them gave the other a look, silently communicating their plan to keep quiet as they discussed their next steps. 

“What are we going to do?” Rumple asked.

Hook bit the inside of his cheek. “Tight spot, but one I don’t doubt we can get out of. They’re not the smartest of men.”

“You have no idea.”

“Trust me,” Hook smirked, “I do.”

Rumple decided it was best to drop the matter. They likely had little time as it stood and bickering was not a way he wanted to waste it with. “So how can we outsmart them this time? I don’t know about you, but I’ve no interest in taking a dip in the ocean.”

A worrying smile that reeked of a plan emerging grew on Hook’s face. “Well, you might want to change your mind on that one,” he said. “Because if we want to get free, we’re gonna have to let them do just that.”

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

Killian knew as soon as he thought up his plan, Rumple would likely object.

He’d be lying if he said that fact didn’t give him even a tiny bit of satisfaction.

“Are you insane?” Rumple nearly shouted. If it weren’t for the fact that their in-fighting was exactly what Horace and Jasper were expecting from them, he’d almost be worried.

Still, Killian wasn’t about to risk an encore.

“Shush!” he hissed.

Rumple rolled his eyes, but complied all the same. 

“I didn’t say it would be easy,” Killian stated.

“There’s a difference between ‘not easy’ and impossible and that is impossible!” This time, Rumple had the courtesy to hiss his complaints rather than outright shout them. “How do you propose we swim? In case you forgot, neither of us has our arms!”

“ONE of us has half an arm. And as an experienced swimmer, I can tell you that swimming is mostly kicking, anyways.”

“You’re going to get us killed.” Rumple grit.

Killian shot him a pointed look. “Do you have a better plan?”

Rumple waffled as he worked for solutions. “Bribe them? Threaten them?”

His brow was up before Rumple could even finish his miserable excuses for ideas. “If they cared about a bribe, they’d have given us a ransom and they’ll kill us long before any kind of threat sustains itself. Rumple,” Killian sighed, sucking in his pride as much as he could, “if we don’t do this, we’re gonna die. We owe all of them -- Emma, Henry, Belle, Gideon -- better than that.” 

Emma and Henry -- while a lump couldn’t help itself but form in his throat at the prospect of them worrying for his safety or him never getting the chance to see them again, he pushed it aside. 

No. He’d make it home. He’d hug his family again. He’d kiss his wife and ruffle his stepson’s hair. He’d live a full life with them and the town he had grown to be part of.

He’d make it so, no matter what.

As Killian waited for Rumple’s response, he realized he’d forgotten for a moment that Rumple was immortal. Even if he died, Rumple wouldn’t. Still Killian hoped that the message he was attempting to convey would be enough to sway him. After all, even if he didn’t die, without Killian’s and his magic’s help, Rumple would be trapped under his weight for God knows how long.

Killian could tell Rumple was looking for some other plan -- ANY other plan, but was failing. If not for the fact that this issue affected him quite directly too, he’d probably take some amusement in that.

“If it makes you feel any better,” Killian continued, “I promise I’ll keep you safe. I’ve a family to get home to and for Belle and Gideon’s sake, I want you to get back to yours.”

Rumple sighed, his disbelief in what he was agreeing to so agonizingly apparent on his face that it almost hurt Killian to watch. “How far will we have to swim?” 

“If we can handle the current, hopefully, just to the beach,” Killian approximated after a moment of thought. “Then we can find help at a nearby house.”

The response was immediate and about as predictable as predictable could be.

“And if we can’t handle the current?” 

Killian took a deep breath. “We either land in the woods or we flow outside Storybrooke. Either way’s better than dying.”

“We’re gonna die,” Rumple groaned.

For as best as he could in their situation, Killian shrugged. “Better to go out fighting than not.”

Rumple sighed. “Fine. Then what’s our plan for once we’re submerged?”

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

Horace and Jasper had awful laughs. They were so disjointed, lacking any kind of rhythm or charm. It was worse when added to the fact the latter of the two had he and Hook in his clutches, forcing them to endure the subsequent rustling of his hands around their waists as he did it, making the whole experience that much more uncomfortable -- as if this whole atrocity wasn’t bad enough already.

Rumple knew he shouldn’t be focusing on things like that right before he and Hook plunged off the side of a dock while tied together as closely as two enemies could ever hate to be, but given that...well, he and Hook were about to be plunged off the side of a dock while tied together as closely as two enemies could ever hate to be, he figured the distraction could relieve him of some of the heart-thumping panic.

It didn’t, but it was better than nothing.

It was better than thinking about the freezing water that would soon surround their bodies.

It was better than entertaining the idea that they wouldn’t be able to swim fast enough to beat the current, or even stop themselves from drowning.

And it was better than thinking about how if this failed, he could very well spend far too many of his immortal days, if not the rest of them, at the bottom of the ocean with only Hook’s deceased corpse and the occasional school of fish for company.

Most anything was better than that.

The docks were freezing. Rumple was almost never here at night, and as he stood there in the grasp of one enemy and forcibly hugged by another, he knew it was for good reason. There was an extra level of eeriness that the docks had when added to the already unsettling darkness that this time of night was most famous for, and was further complemented by the creaky wood beneath him and the ebony water below them.

Just how the hell were they going to swim out of that water? It looked dark enough to prevent those with even the most heightened of senses from seeing their hands in front of their faces.

And in just a matter of moments, they’d need to navigate those same waters without the use of a large portion of their limbs.

This plan of Hook’s had better damn well work...

As to keep the two of them quiet while Jasper kept them in place, Horace’s gun remained, as it had since the two of them were forced out of the building five minutes ago, aimed directly at their temples, keeping Rumple even more alert.

“You two best take a nice, deep breath,” Horace mocked, “because it’s gonna be your last.”

Hook stared at Rumple and he gave him a noticeably pointed stare. It looked to be reassuring, but was definitely by no means fearless.

And why wouldn’t it be? 

They were about to take a dunk in the ocean...and there was no promise they’d get the chance to ever dry off.

Their plan may have had legs to stand on -- or swim on -- but it didn’t have arms.

Jasper seemed able to read Rumple’s fear like a book. He leaned in close to them, grinning like he’d just won the lottery.

“We promise, you won’t be wet for long once you get to Hell,” he said, a mocking tone in his voice.

Rumple could see Hook stifling an annoyed snort, as if to say ‘been there, done that.’

A large part of Rumple wished he had that kind of bravery. He thought back to what -- or rather, who -- had inspired that bravery in him before.

Rumple stared down at the ocean once more, now with a new resolve.

It was still terrifying, but as he forced himself to look, he thought of Belle and Gideon. He thought of how if he didn’t do this, he’d miss his son’s first steps, his first words, and every other moment that would help him grow into a man. He thought of Belle and how much he’d regret not getting home to her, leaving them both with a final interaction that amounted to what felt now to be the pettiest of arguments, and missing the chance for them to grow old together.

With all that in mind, though he was still scared out of his wits, Rumple made a vow.

He’d make it home to Belle and Gideon -- no matter what he’d have to face...or who he’d have to work with to make it so.

“So,” Horace started, laughter bubbling like a brook underneath him, “before you two...take a dive...any last words?” Jasper joined in and the two beamed as they began to shift the two of them ever closer to the edge of the docks.

Rumple REALLY hated that laugh of theirs.

“You won’t get away with this.” Rumple and Hook eyed each other as they took their last deep breaths. It wasn’t that shocking that they’d say something along the lines of a similar sentiment, but to say the same thing was nonetheless surprising.

With any luck, that would be a good sign for their immediate future.

“We just did.”

That seemed to be all the prompt that was needed for Horace’s plan to take its final action.

He gave Jasper an affirmative nod and with that. Jasper shoved the two of them off of the docks and into the sea.

Of the many things that scared Rumple, nothing was as uniquely petrifying as falling. It wasn’t his biggest fear by any means, but as he and Hook cascaded down with the wind hitting their faces like bricks, unable to move anything but their legs, Rumple felt utterly horrified. 

He released the breath he had been holding, and Hook was quick to silently scold him for it.

Quickly, Rumple took another one just before the pair hit the water.

The ocean hit him first with a force close to what one feels when they punch glass with their fists, but as if those fists encompassed their whole body. Then, the feeling changed and only the pure coldness of the water could be felt.

Rumple didn’t let himself feel out the new environment for long. Now that Horace and Jasper’s plan had been completed, now was the time to enact theirs. 

He looked to Hook for the next step forward -- or rather, kick forward. Hook nudged them downward and outwards from where they’d fallen. He explained it before back in the building after they’d agreed to his plan -- the safest way of surviving both the ocean and their assailants’ guns would be if Jasper and Horace thought they were truly dead, and once they were far enough out so that their captors wouldn’t see them, they’d resurface and start swimming for the beach.

He desperately hoped Hook was truly right in his assumption, because if he wasn’t and they didn’t make it through this ordeal alive, he actually WOULD make his afterlife Hell.

Rumple felt Hook’s free arm circling by his back and a soft touch by his leg reminded him to start kicking. Hook’s eyes pointed him in the direction they were supposed to go and Rumple reluctantly followed. After about two minutes of nonstop and frantic kicking, partnered with his continuously dwindling supply of oxygen, Rumple began to feel woozy.

As if on cue, Hook looked to him and quickly directed they swim upwards.

It was a tough trip up and Rumple had questioned for a moment if he’d even make it, but in the end, he did. 

Immediately Rumple started breathing heavily and Hook was doing the same beside him. Unconsciously, he leaned his head on Hook’s chest.

Hook not only let him, but leaned his own head against the side of Rumple’s. Rumple could only contribute both actions to a mutual sense of exhaustion.

If there was one thing they could likely agree on, it was that it had been a long fucking day.

Rumple shuddered as a haze of chilliness formed a cocoon around them. It may have been summer, but Storybrooke’s Maine-bound water in the middle of the night was cold no matter the season. Because of that, the water was treacherous for reasons far beyond its current and density.

That wasn’t to say that they weren’t issues at all -- the pull of the ocean told Rumple as much.

They needed to get out of here.

“W-we need to start swimming out to the beach,” Hook said, clearly reaching the same conclusion he did.

All Rumple could do was nod after pushing his head off of Hook. 

Rumple started kicking a beat after Hook did.

By Hook’s estimation, the safest part of the beach they could land on was about three hundred feet out from the water when aligned to how far they swam out to and about thirteen hundred feet north of where they currently were. They could follow the current for the thirteen hundred or so feet, but once they were parallel to the beach, they’d need to fight to escape it to reach the shore. 

Well, they’d accomplished harder tasks.

The current, for the few moments they could ride it, was a godsend. Rumple’s legs felt more like jelly than bone and his rigidly trapped body fared no better in the cold water. He felt like, had they not been in life-threatening danger, he could pass out on the spot. Hook seemed to feel the same. Even though he was keeping an eye out for the point where they needed to leave the current, the tension that had been in his shoulders since this nightmare of theirs had begun was lessened for a moment and he allowed for a soft groan to leave his lips between pants and gasps for air.

Rumple couldn’t see the beach, so all he could go by to have any idea of where they needed to go were the glimmers of street lamps and lights from inside people’s homes and Hook’s navigational skills.

Looks like there WERE uses for pirates.

“It’s time!” Hook shouted, pushing them against the current, with Rumple immediately following.

The current that had blessed them until but a moment ago retaliated against their attempt for freedom with the brutality of a fireball to the face. They were making progress, but the progress was poor at best as the current continued to try to pull them back into it.

“Go faster,” Hook commanded.

Rumple tried -- Zeus knows he did. Even as he felt his feet’s productivity slipping, he kicked at the water like a paddle against a ping pong.

But try as he and Hook may, he could feel that their efforts to fight off the current weren’t enough. They were getting caught in it and drifting farther and faster away from the beach.

Hook seemed determined to not give up, but before they could make another try, Rumple noticed something.

That something just happened to be a giant rock that they were now set to directly collide with. 

He shouted to get Hook’s attention, but Hook didn’t seem to pay him mind as he tried to make a break for the beach once more. Rumple even tried to help him just to have some chance of escaping the boulder’s impact.

But it didn’t work.

All it took was one unluckily timed wave to send their heads hurdling towards the rocks.

And their bodies rushing into the rocks was the last thing Rumple saw that night.

#ouat #killian jones #rumple #Rumplestiltskin #golden hook #once upon a time #fanfiction #cw: guns #tw: guns #whump #or whump adjacent at least

[thefootballlife]

The Football Life Awards 2018/19

As the season draws to a close, it’s time to take our annual look at the best and worst of Scottish football this year...

The Claude Anelka Award for the worst manager of the season

Last year’s winner: Owen Coyle

This is an award with a giant field this time around. There’s Alan Stubbs’ cup of coffee reign at St Mirren, Dundee doing Dundee things, Paul Hartley dooming Falkirk and a certain Mr J Harvey at Berwick.

Were this award judged on cumulative damage over a full reign and not just time limited to this season, Paul Hartley would win this with ease. Over the past 24 months, Falkirk have been in a circle of self-harming behaviours - ending the youth academy, bringing in some truly terrible players. However, it’s based on this season only and, while Hartley was terrible, Ray McKinnon hasn’t exactly shown him up by getting Falkirk racing up the table. Falkirk’s issues are as much the making of the board’s baffling decisions as they were Hartley and so Hartley wouldn’t win the award. Gary Naysmith also more than deserves a mention for getting a side with Stephen Dobbie’s goalscoring record to finish in the relegation playoff spot thanks to deciding that only having around 10 first team players in the entire squad available at any one time was a sustainable thing to happen.

Alan Stubbs’ reign at St Mirren was incredibly short due to behind the scenes issues. In his short time at the club, his signing policy was odd and, quite simply, he showed not to be a good fit for the club. It certainly wasn’t enough in itself to doom St Mirren but notable in its brevity. Dundee have been doing Dundee things - Neil McCann never proved himself at the club and Jim McIntyre had to come in to pick up the pieces and has produced a team that is equally deficient just in slightly different ways. Given his first game was a 4-0 loss to Livingston with every goal from the same method and he has progressed to what is (at the time of writing) at ten game losing streak and are on course, unless they take 5 points from their final games, to come in with a lower total than Gretna did in their liquidation season had they not been given a 10 point deduction. That’s how dire this Dundee side are.

Which leaves the most dire of all - Berwick Rangers. The club have been in flux across the season but it’s hard to doubt that much of the blame to be pinned on Johnny Harvey who has gotten rid of all of the good players and brought in far worse and, since January, they have slid to a point where dropping out the league in the playoff is expected. Watching them on the highlights week in, week out, their regression is obvious throughout the season. Harvey is the one who, in spite of the excuses you could attribute to his team’s performance, has done so much damage he can’t not win this award.

The Clydebank…

Sod it, I’m renaming this one…

The Brechin City Award for worst attempt at not getting relegated

Last year’s winner: Brechin’s winless Championship season

This can only go to Berwick again. If you look at every division, you would point out good things that sides in the relegation shake-up have tried to do. Falkirk HAVE gotten better, Stenny HAVE battled all the way - Berwick, instead, have really embraced the prospect of trying to fall out of the league.

The Rafael Scheidt Award for worst piece of business

Last year’s winner: Carlos Pena

Eros Grezda. Bought injured. Stayed injured. Didn’t hold a place down. Got injured again. Will get sold.

Grezda is a player I like, a player I’ve seen destroy sides in Croatia, but his time in Scotland has been doomed from before it started.

The Marco Negri Award for most dramatic loss of form

Last year’s winner: Partick Thistle

In a novel twist to this award, the winner of this gets it for a change mid-season, going from a huge disappointment last season, to a revelation in the first half of this season to dire in the second half.

It is, of course, the man who appears to have an allergy to Aberdeen, Greg Stewart.

Last season, he was wasted by the Dons. Killie gave him a chance and he rediscovered the sort of form that got him a move to England in the first place. Going back to Aberdeen was, therefore, a bizarre move given that there was so much proof Derek McInnes just doesn’t know how to use him. Using the Ice Hockey term of points (assists plus goals), Stewart got 14 points in 18 games at Killie. In 44 total games at Aberdeen, he’s got 6 with a grand total of 1 in his second spell. It's a dramatic and utterly understandable loss of form for a player who keeps getting stuck with a manager who can’t use him properly. For choosing to do it a second time, he has earned this award.

(renamed) The Shockmaster Award for biggest botch

Last year’s winner: Rangers fail miserably to get Derek McInnes

There are plenty of errors in a season in Scotland but only a few are truly embarrassing. And only one happened like clockwork.

This season’s winner is Alfredo Morelos’ record against Aberdeen. His disciplinary record in general is bad enough, with a pair of other sendings off to add to his trifecta of trouble against the Dons. Be it kicking Scott McKenna or, errr, kicking Scott McKenna, Morelos simply could not resist getting himself into bother, getting himself lengthy bans in the process and damaging his team’s hopes of keeping up with Celtic. Whether the botch is on Morelos for not controlling himself or on Gerrard for continuing to pick him in spite of his inability to stop the blood rush is up for debate…

Honourable mention to every Scotland fan that attended, watched live on TV or went on a minute by minute feed of the Kazakhstan game.

The David Murray Award for worst board

Last year’s winner: Hearts

The final of the worst awards goes to a board that showed this season they were somewhat tone deaf. It is, of course, Dundee attempting to appoint Billy Dodds as Assistant to Jim McIntyre.

Dodds is many things. McIntyre’s regular collaborator. One of Scotland’s finer striking coaches. And he’s also a man who once voted to put Dundee FC out of business. Funnily enough, it was that that most Dundee fans remembered as uproar ensued. Dodds widely stayed away from Dens and McIntyre proceeded to get the club relegated while also being able to maintain the excuse that the Dodds issue was in large part to blame. It ended up being a case of the club trying to book Simon and Garfunkel and only being able to get Garfunkel.

The “That is Sensational” Award for goal of the season

Last year’s winner: Carl McHugh (Motherwell vs Hearts - Scottish Cup QF)

Dobbie. Dons. Whoosh.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uIl0Ty5IDVY

The Then, Now, Forever award for moment of the season

Last year’s winner: The Decline and Fall of the Caixinha Empire

This is almost always the most difficult award to decide given the sheer high level of madness that Scottish football often provides. The last weekend of the lower league season provided a great example as Cammy Ballantyne pulled off a Gordon Banks-esque save for Dumbarton which suggests being a defender may not be his best profession. In the Premiership, pettiness has been the order of the day around ticket allocations while those allowed in the stand have been more willing to throw punches and projectiles than in normal seasons. Brendan Rodgers did what it was obvious he was going to do but people still got annoyed about it anyway. The banter years stopped at Ibrox but carried on elsewhere and the winner of this award is the club that has embraced that mantle more than any other this season.

When I made a little shortlist, there was a common denominator among many of my favourites. Ayr’s Craig Moore gets sent off for donkey kicking a player in the balls. A lightbulb blows at a ground on scoring a goal and players then have to pick the glass off the ground while the tannoy states there’ll be a short delay as “the floodlight’s fucked”. Sacking the manager about an hour before the final game of the season.

Yes, Greenock was patter capital of Scotland this season and no situation better showed the sheer oddness of Morton’s season than Ray McKinnon moving to Falkirk.

Now, we sit here with the benefit of hindsight knowing that McKinnon’s time at Falkirk has been disastrous and the club were relegated. In fact, it was one of those things where, with the benefit of foresight, everyone knew that was what was going to happen because Falkirk were terrible. McKinnon took the job on anyway, leaving a Morton side who, in their three games prior to his departure, were unbeaten in the league and looking like a pretty good team whereas Falkirk already looked doomed and were employing McKinnon after the end of the transfer window. It was a little saga in itself as McKinnon was unable to resist the sultry glare of Falkirk - a temptress who pulled McKinnon into their orbit only for McKinnon to end up sucked inside like the club were the goddess Bilquis.

If you don’t get that, there’s a really risky google in it.

Morton fans did not take this well. More specifically, the Greenock Telegraph did not take this well. Judas headlines hit the pages and, when McKinnon rocked up with his new charges in Greenock on league business, they produced red cards with the word Judas and McKinnon’s face on to protest. It was hilariously small-time, hilariously petty and, in most eyes, well deserved. Not only that, but it’s one of the few times where there’s actually a happy ending in all of this as the wronged party of Morton were able to point and laugh at Falkirk ending up in League One next season.

The Robert Duvall Award for Manager of the Season

Last year’s winner: Stewart Petrie (Montrose)

So, I’m writing this but just before the playoffs kick off. As such, I’m throwing a caveat in here right now:

If Montrose get promoted to the Championship, Stewart Petrie is getting it in spite of whatever I write next.

Petrie, arguably, could get it now just for getting Montrose to 4th. The Mo started the season poorly after their surprise League Two title win but once they acclimatised to League One, they became a consistently tough nut to crack. Without adding much to the side from last season, Petrie has turned a side that many would argue had little right being in League One at all to a side who might just have the form line to get them into the Championship. That’s incredible.

Contenders broadly split into Steve Clarke and League One, to be fair. The justification for Steve Clarke is pretty obvious and has been gone over enough by enough people to make it needless to discuss. There aren’t candidates from League Two as everyone has performed more or less as expected and only Ian McCall could be argued to have over-delivered in the Championship with the black mark against his name here that Ayr fell apart after Christmas.

Which leads to the winner - Dick Campbell.

Arbroath walked League One, a league where they are by no means the biggest side and, unlike Raith, are a part time side will full time ones around them. They did so by Campbell putting together a throwback of a side that played four-four-fucking-two, got it out wide, got it in the mixer and overwhelmed sides with potency. When push came to shove, they showed they didn’t just have bottle, they had a jeroboam with late equalisers and late winners in games that were often classics - take their come from behind win over Airdrie or their December win over Forfar for examples. At their best, they are a team of immense attacking firepower and immense character. They let their standards slide once the title was out of reach for others and that that was from early March is testament to the work done early season. It is, possibly, the greatest achievement of Campbell’s long career.

The “£650k for Larsson, really?” Award for best piece of transfer business of the season

Last year’s winner: Killie sign Youssouf Mulumbu

We go to the lower leagues for this one and the two outstanding candidates.

Runner up is Ross County’s Josh Mullin. I’m sure many questioned why he’d turn down a shot at the Premiership with Livi to go back to the Championship and the possibly dubious prospect of going to a division that looked exceptionally open. Instead, he put out his best season of his career, slotting perfectly into a County side that relied on his ability to cross the ball - no-one in the Championship crossed more and it has brought Mullin 20 assists. He didn’t make the PFA Championship team of the year only because I think everyone was drunk when they voted because he was surely a shoo-in.

The winner of this award did get recognition from the PFA - Edinburgh City’s Blair Henderson. There was little prior to this season to suggest he would be about to embark on the absolute tear he has been on for the entire year. 38 goals in all competitions is an incredible return for a player who spent most of the previous season struggling to get into the Annan side. Most impressively, those goals haven’t come in spurts - Henderson scored consistently throughout the season to help Edinburgh get into the playoffs. The better news for City fans is that, given Henderson is training to be an accountant, the convenience for his life of Edinburgh means he is likely to remain with the club rather than look to go full time. It was an inspired idea to take the chance on him and one that is likely to pay dividends for another season yet.

The Tony Watt Award for the European Performance of the season

Last year’s winner: Celtic beat Anderlecht in the CL groups

This season has been somewhat average for Scottish clubs in Europe. Celtic didn’t get into the Champions League, Hibs did well till they didn’t and Aberdeen got their usual terrible draw.

Which leaves Rangers. In qualifying, they were presented with a series of coin toss draws that could easily have sent them tumbling out. The highlight of the whole run would be their 3-1 win over Rapid Vienna in Glasgow - a result that made them believe that the club might actually be getting back to a higher tier of European achievement. A false dawn, maybe, but closer to dawn than anyone else achieved.

The Hope of a Nation Award for young player of the season

Limited to players 19 and under on 01/01/19

Last year’s winner: Kristoffer Ajer

David Turnbull. He’s making the next award list too so have a read there.

The Football Life Five - the five best players of the season

Last year’s five: Scott McKenna, Josh Windass, Christophe Berra, Dylan McGeouch and overall winner Kris Boyd

So, the players of the year. This year’s field contain a bit of the devil and a bit of class but, unlike last season, a Celtic player doesn’t just get included but will win the whole thing.

But to start with the one player not playing in the top flight. It’s impossible to not include Stephen Dobbie in this top five.

At 36, Dobbie has scored 40 in 42 in all competitions including some truly wonderful goals. He’s done all of that while playing in a woeful Queen of the South side and done it against all opponents - in ten games against the top four in the Championship, Dobbie scored 10 and provided 3 assists. In the cups, he scored against Aberdeen and St Johnstone showing, if anyone had any doubt, that he would do a job in the top flight if it were required of him. Dobbie comes with his negatives - primarily that to have him, Queen of the South had to have an unsustainably small squad for budgetary reasons, but that is hardly Dobbie’s fault. The reality is that he travels up day in day out as the club suits him, he enjoys the place and in return he scores a frankly ridiculous amount of goals.

Next on the list in another striker - a certain Mr A Morelos.

Morelos is probably a player I should agonise about whether to include and it’s almost impossible to talk about the good of Morelos without touching upon the bad. Yes, his disciplinary record is embarrassing and he’s easier to wind up than a jack in the box. He also scores and assists a lot. It’s likely most telling that for all we can point out how idiotic some of the things Morelos does are, he’s still almost always the first name on the Rangers team sheet often keeping Jermain Defoe out of the side. Earlier this season, I wrote an article comparing him to Odsonne Edouard that extolled Morelos over the Frenchman as while Edouard has the higher ceiling, Morelos is the one most suited to the environment he is in right now and that remains true. Edouard would likely be a top player in any league - Morelos will be a top player in this league and then probably go mad against top class defenders if he made a step up or faced adversity. It’s easy to see Morelos becoming this generation’s Mario Jardel, in that respect, but with less cocaine.

I promised that David Turnbull would be on this list and so he is. Turnbull wasn’t given young player of the season by the PFA in what was a ridiculous call. He has been the breakout player of the season, only having turned out twice last season, and has been the dynamic attacking fulcrum of a Motherwell side who took their time about becoming exciting this season. When looking at that Motherwell side, you see so many great young talents in the likes of Chris Cadden, Jake Hastie and Allan Campbell who have all, at one point or another been hotly tipped - Turnbull seems to potentially be the best yet and has done it all that little bit more under the radar than his colleagues.

But the stats don’t lie. Turnbull not only has a knack of scoring, he has that handiest of knacks of scoring at the right time. Motherwell have not lost a single game in which Turnbull has scored this season and nine of his thirteen goals have either been the opening goals or the goal that secured 1 or 3 points for the club. In that regard, Turnbull can be directly attributed with having been worth a frankly silly 17 points to Well by himself this season. Just to clarify that - without David Turnbull, Motherwell would probably be 10th behind Accies and not 8th and 22 points clear of anything approaching relegation bother. Turnbull has committed himself with a new contract to the club also - a really refreshing sort of contract that will keep him growing in what could be a quite exciting Motherwell side for some time to come.

Next up is last season’s young player of the year for this site, Kristoffer Ajer.

He is as no nonsense a defender as they come when asked to defend but what separates him is his ability on the ball. Eventually, Ajer could become another Virgil van Dijk due to his calmness on the ball but what Ajer is here for is his willingness to put his body on the line. He does that thing which always gets Celtic fans a bit excited of “getting” the club and since the turn of the year has become the one defender who is the permanent inclusion in the side with others circling in his orbit such as Messrs Simunovic, Benkovic and Boyata. In a sense, that is likely due to Neil Lennon’s return to the club who has always had a more defensive focus than Brendan Rodgers. Ajer is the one defender right now in Scottish football who you could feasibly see winning an overall player of the year.

Which moves nicely onto the player who is this season’s player of the year.

James Forrest has, incredibly, been part of Celtic’s first team for nine years now. HIs early career was blighted with minor injuries that slowed his development before becoming that typical annoying winger who was electric on their day but found that those days came fairly irregularly - defenders found him predictable and fans found him infuriating.

But now, at 27, Forrest has managed to achieve the one thing very few wingers do - find a consistent level and making it a high one at that. 11 league goals and 12 league assists is a great return and a reflection of perhaps the one key difference in Forrest’s game from 2-3 years ago - he scores in volume and is able to now cut inside and take things on with his left. His season highlight was, of course, scoring four in a game against St Johnstone but his productivity has been consistent throughout the season - scoring in three successive Scottish Cup games, assisting twice in a game five times this season including a pair against the 4-3 win at Pittodrie on Boxing Day. He has been deployed across the midfield - his 4 vs St Johnstone was done playing centrally, his double in December vs Killie was from the left and there has been plenty from his more regular right-sided position.

[zaddyzimmermann]

OMGCP Beauty and the Beast AU-

Okay so here is what I got done last night and I tried to edit it as best I can! This is the first chapter so there will be more comin.

ANYWAY I hope you enjoy and there is more coming, this is just what I managed to write until I got exhausted and went to bed (I’m lame I know)

So like disclaimer: three PAST character deaths. I also changed up the prologue a little to fit the story. I’m taking a light spin on it, not too many drastic changes (if you count the reason Jack was turned into a beast a drastic change idk)

Here is the ao3 link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/10454391/chapters/23078457

*******

Once upon a time in a faraway land, a prince lived in a shining castle. Although he had everything his heart desired, the prince was spoiled, selfish and unkind.

“Yo, Jack-O!” Bartholomew Knight, strides up to his best friend, admiring the party in front of them. “Wicked party man.”

Jack clears his throat as a few people from his court glance over with judgmental expressions.

“Right. Prince Jack-O.” His best friend bristles a little, slightly annoyed by Jack’s dismissive behavior.

“Where did Kent go?” Jack can’t help but ask, because his other closest friend was nowhere to be seen upon the lively dancing of the party. Usually he’s in the middle of it all.

“Don’t know, Brah. Probably fucked off somewhere--”

Jack shoots him another glare for the language, causing ‘Shitty’ (he liked to call himself just to get on Jack’s nerves) to sigh dramatically.

“Can you be a little less vulgar?” Jack practically bites the words out, sounding extremely unkind. “Why are you with me anyway? Usually you’re following Larissa around right about now.”

“Never mind. Thought you’d want my company, but I guess I’m an embarrassment. Now I know why Kenny dearest isn’t around. I wouldn’t be surprised if he left the palace again.”

The words struck a chord, and Jack watched helplessly as his friend left his side.

But then, one winter’s night, an old beggar woman came to the castle and offered him a single rose in return for shelter from the bitter cold.

“Hey yo, your highness?” Adam Birkholz, one of the guards approached him with his other pair in tow, Justin Oluransi. 

“--there’s someone at the door. She’s kinda sketch, but we don’t want to turn away a guest.” Justin says.

“I don’t remember inviting any outsiders.” Jack grunts, but he still follows them and weaves himself through the party. Once the three get to the door, a crouched figure with horrible posture shakes from the cold in a dark cloak covering most of their body. He feels the slightest bit of sympathy, but ever since his parents were assassinated, he trusted absolutely no one, and probably never will again.

“Who are you?” Jack demands, placing himself safely behind his two guards.

An old and scratchy voice responds. “Georgia Martin, no one special. I’m just looking for shelter from the cold. It’s quite a storm out there.”

When Jack doesn’t respond, she clears her throat and reaches down to pull something out of her cloak. Jack stumbles back in fear, and his two guards immediately block him from view.

“Relax, Jack Zimmermann,” --she can’t just address me informally like that-- “It is only a rose. A peace offering and a gift, in exchange for your hospitality.”

Repulsed by her haggard and sketchy appearance, the prince sneered at the gift and turned the old woman away. But she warned him not to be deceived by appearances. For beauty is found within, and not every unfamiliar mundane is evil.

“No way am I letting you stay here.” Jack snarls at the woman, setting himself in front of his guards in a fit of anger. “A stranger can’t just waltz in here. This is a palace, not an inn.”

“I will not harm you.” She reassures him. “You have my word. Give me a chance?”

“Only fools allow complete strangers into their home.” Jack says sternly, still a little bit shaken.

“Like your parents?”

His blood runs cold and his hands begin to shake in the beginnings of a panic attack. “Get out.” He snaps, and his tone holds heavy malice that was sharp enough to cut anyone.

And when he dismissed her again, the old woman’s ugliness melted away to reveal a beautiful enchantress. The prince tried to apologize, but it was too late. For she had seen there was no trust or kindness in his heart.

“Wrong answer, Prince Zimmermann.” Her appearance quickly changes in a flurry of gold light, changing her appearance faster than Jack can process. The gold dissipates, revealing a kind and beautiful face that couldn't possibly be ‘mundane’. Jack suddenly feels the cold twinge of regret as the woman gives him a soft smile. A smile that reminded him a little of his mother, and he felt his heart constrict in sadness.

“Whoa-- what the hell are you?” Adam mutters with a look of blatant surprise, while Justin’s mouth is glued shut in silent terror.

Then Jack feels something warm begin to flood over his body, which he assumes is the feeling of magic. There’s no other explanation.

“Stop it.” Jack glances behind him at his frenzied party guests trying to escape. “I’m sorry. You can stay one night. Just stop whatever you’re doing--”

Those were the last words Jack spoke before he felt his body change, causing slight pain deep in his bones. The heartbreaking shouts from his guests and his closest friends fill his ears, which was the most painful of all.

“Jack!” He hears Kent’s voice sound in the background noise, horrified and frightened. “Goddammit, what have you done?”

And his punishment: she transformed him into a hideous beast and placed a powerful curse on the castle and all who lived there.

Like a snap of someone’s finger, everything went silent as objects clattered to the floor and his body burned with a raw sensation.

He glanced in a nearby mirror and reeled backward from what he saw. That woman-- that witch-- had turned him into some kind of monster.

Ashamed of his monstrous form, he concealed himself inside his castle with a magic mirror as his only window to the outside world. The rose she had offered was truly an enchanted rose. Which would bloom until his twenty-first year if he could learn to love and trust another and earn their love and trust in return.

“Until you can learn to fully love another and trust them with your love, you will stay like this.” The enchantress's voice rang loud and clear, and quite frankly terrifying in the sudden, eerie silence.

And when the last petal fell, then the spell would be broken. If not, he would be doomed to remain a beast for all time. As the years past, he fell into despair and lost all hope.

“This is for your own good, Jack.”

For who could ever learn to love a beast.

******

“Mama,” Eric slips on his shoes and grabs his bag, ready to slip out the door. “I’ll be right back. I have to grab some eggs from downtown.”

Eric Bittle lived in a small town, one that wasn’t too keen on accepting the fact he liked to bake rather than take the “manly” job in his family. His mother is a very talented baker, so why not take after her? It was only him and his mother, which is why the townspeople were more critical. His father died when he was just a baby. His mom never talked about it, because it was still too hard. All he knows is that he was named after his father, and that his mother missed him every single day.

He always hears what the town says about him, because it still is a very small town and word travels fast. He’s weird. He’s a puzzle that can’t be solved. He’s unconventional, spending all his hours in the kitchen. However, one thing out of all the nonsense is true; He’s gay. And you’re goddamn right he is. It’s no secret, because he doesn’t hide it anymore.

His Mama is always supportive, and that’s all he really cared about anyway. Everyone else is background noise, because Eric Bittle knows there’s something else out there other than this poor provincial town. He has other plans, so none of the whispering and rumors really matter.

“Mama?” He shouts louder so she can hear him this time. “I’m getting more eggs.” He repeats.

She pops her head out from their small kitchen, flower spread across her cheek. “We’re out already?”

“You made that emergency wedding cake for the Williams family, remember?”

“Oh! Right! You’re such a smart boy. Maybe we should start raising chickens for our own eggs.”

“Mama, we would have nowhere to put them. You refuse to give up the horse.”

“Señor Bun is family, Eric Richard Bittle.” His mother scolds. “And you named him in the first place, so don’t even give me that look. We need him anyway so I can travel.” She gives him a warm smile as a goodbye before retreating to the kitchen.

Eric greets all his favorite people as he makes his way through the busy town. It’s always hectic this early in the morning.

When he finally makes it to the market Robert, the kind food vender, smiles and raises an eyebrow. “Eric! My best costumer. I could have sworn you were here yesterday.”

“I was. We ran out of eggs.” Eric shrugs with a sheepish smile, already pulling out his money.

“You practically keep me in business, so I’ll make you a deal.” He hands Bitty the eggs in a small basket, a look of appreciation on his face. “I expect one of your famous pies. The last one you made me was devoured by my family before I even got the chance to try it.”

“You got it.” Eric smiles, giving him a small salute. “I’ll hand it to you personally the next time I’m here… Which will most likely be tomorrow.”

“That’s gratefully appreciated.” Robert winks before Eric makes his way back home. This might actually be the first morning he doesn’t run into--

“Eric! My future husband. My love and joy.” The familiarity sends a shiver of irritation up his spine.

“Hello, Chad.” Eric sighs, turning around to see Chad, the most beloved, wet dream of the entire town.

He saunters over with his goon in tow, scurrying behind him as Chad makes his way up to Eric with terrifying speed.

“I was thinking,” Chad throws an arm around him, causing Eric to flinch in surprise. “You. Me. Alone out on the hill overlooking that sketchy ass patch of dark clouds that never disappears out yonder that no one questions.”

“I’ll have to pass on that. Again. For the thousandth time you’ve offered.” Eric slides out from under his arm, but doesn’t make a move to walk back home because Chad will just follow him like always. “You do realize I’m a man? I’m sure the three women that always appear when you’re around would love to be with you.” He says the last part with sincerity.

“Of course I know you’re a man.” Chad grins, completely ignoring the last half of Eric’s reply. “Why would I limit myself to one gender? Psh. Ridiculous! We’ve talked about this before. Besides, I want to marry the hottest piece of ass in this town. And that, Eric Bittle, is you.”

“Chad.” Eric runs a hand over his face, and surely people are watching their exchange by now. “How many times do I have to tell you? I’m not marrying you.”

“This is true love, Eric Bittle.” Chad pouts his lips, like he’s a begging puppy.

“Um, I’m pretty sure this is harassment--”

“--anyway.” Chad cuts him off before he can finish. “I’m rich and hot. What’s not to love?”

Eric has given up at this point, so he decides to just ask, “Chad, how do you manage to track me down every day, anyway?”

“Oh, I usually wait up on the hill right by your house every morning and follow you around until I find the perfect opportunity to court you.”

Eric blinks, slightly terrified by the admission. “Chad, that’s creepy.”

“It’s romantic.” He defends with a slight glare.

“I’m going home. See you tomorrow.” Eric mutters before quickly escaping.

“Bye babe!” Chad calls after him. His daily run-ins with Chad are his least favorite thing about this town.

Some days are harder than others. Like when people so obviously give judgmental looks when he’s buying more baking supplies, or he’s handing out his pies for free to families that can’t quite afford dessert. ‘The least he can do is help provide for his mother. Poor thing, lost her husband at such a young age.’ That’s what most of them say, at least. Like his mother isn’t more than capable of holding her own. It’s not like she raised a child and kept a roof over their heads for nearly nineteen years.

When Eric returns home, he hears his mother humming in the kitchen. She hasn’t left since he went out to buy more eggs.

“Hi Mama.” Eric kisses her cheek before placing the small basket beside her. He glances at the cookies already cooling off. “How did you manage to make those without any eggs?”

“I’m innovative.” She grins, looking extremely excited. “I think I just discovered a loophole so we don’t have to use eggs all the time. What a money saver! Maybe I can buy you new skates by winter, since your last pair fell apart.”

“When are you leaving?” Eric asks, still nervous about her departure. His Mama makes more money that way, leaving town to sell her baked goods in different towns. He always fears that one day she simply won’t return home, and Eric will be all alone.

“Oh Dicky, not until the morning.” She reaches over and cups his cheeks, like she does when she senses him worry. “Let’s just get your pies done for now and not think about it.”

“Okay.” Eric says softly as she releases his cheeks and begins pulling the supplies they need out of cabinets like it’s second nature.

The next morning he helps his mother load everything into the carriage, and feeds Señor Bun before his long journey.

As his mother hops onto the horse, she gives Eric one last encouraging smile. “I’ll be back before you know it, honey. What do you want me to bring back?”

“Oh. Uh.” Eric frowns, because his mother doesn’t have to get him anything. However, his mother does it for his comfort. This way, she has to come back to him. No matter what, because a promise is a promise. “Just get me anythin’ really. Whatever you think looks pretty.” He grins as his mother rolls her eyes.

“Hold down the fort while I’m gone.”

“I always do.” Eric laughs a little, then reaches up to squeeze her hand one last time. “Be safe, Mama.”

Then she’s off, and he watches her disappear from view.

He loves his mother and he loves baking, but there has to be something more out there than this. He just knows it.

“Eric!” Chad’s voice booms throughout his front yard, causing him to flinch in unpleasant surprise.

“Hi Chad.” Eric sighs as Chad makes his way up to him, intruding on his personal space.

Chad throws on what he believes is his most charming smile. “Are you doing anything today?”

“Nope.”

“Then let’s go on an adventure.” Chad grins, suggestively sliding his hand down Eric’s arm. “For a baker your arms are incredibly buff.”

“Mixing takes a lot of arm power.” Eric defends himself, already kicking himself for interacting with Chad with any attitude beyond dismissive.

“That’s so hot.” Chad removes his hand and decides to flex his own arm. “I work out too. I’m basically a war hero.”

“That’s great. Well, I have to bake and do girly stuff that threatens masculinity. Nothing you’d be interested in.”

“You know me so well, babe. Alright, see you tomorrow my love.” Then Chad is off, making his rounds and flirting with everything in his path.

There has to be something else out there than this provincial life.

#omgcheckplease #eric bittle #eric bitty bittle #jack zimmermann #shitty knight #larissa lardo duan #holster #ransom #ransom and holster #kent parson #zimbits #omgcp

[roland-terrasold-blog]

Journal 57

I am, quite often, an over dramatic fool. It would seem my last entry was an example of this. All is well. Our group feels closer than it has since before Runeforge. Elkin especially seems to be in a better mood than I’ve seen him since…maybe ever. I’m finally feeling that celebratory mood we should have had since freeing Blackwell and returning to Sandpoint. It was a long and messy process, but it looks like our little family has patched things up. I’m glad.

Let me start from the beginning, however. I left off after Elkin left the group, with Linda fuming, Unae hurt, Ichibod concerned, and myself guilt-ridden. We decided that before we figured out what to do about the Elkin situation, we first needed to figure out how to put out the pillar of fire just outside of the town’s walls. After some attempts to put it out or dispel it, we realized that this wasn’t just a pillar of flames, but was actually a portal. Into hell. Right outside of Sandpoint. I can understand why Hemlock always looks so grouchy whenever he sees us.

Linda and I figured that Amara was our best bet to close the portal, and we returned to town to see if we could track her down. Unfortunately, all that our questioning got us was a lead that she probably teleported herself to a demiplane of her own. And that she may have been drunk. Linda told me that she would keep an eye on the portal to make sure nothing dangerous could get out of it, and in the meantime I would get some rest and prepare a sending spell to try to contact Amara in the morning.

So I returned to the demiplane and wrote the entry before this one. After that last part, my mind was in a haze of guilt and self-hatred. I did something I regret. Something I knew better than to do. I took a dagger to my skin and carved open all of my old scars, as a twisted kind of penance for my mistakes. As if Elkin would want that. As if Sarenrae would want that. I knew better. I knew in my head that Elkin would be upset if he ever found out. But I just couldn’t seem to stop myself. I felt numb and stretched thin, and I knew that the dagger would feel real, it would be something I could latch onto while everything else swam in my fucked up emotions. I don’t know why I do this. I know that the others would be disappointed in me if they found out. I know that I need to be stronger than this. But sometimes I just can’t.

I eventually bandaged the cuts and went to bed. I didn’t heal the wounds with Sarenrae’s power for a number of reasons. I didn’t feel like my injuries were worth her power. I felt like it would defeat the purpose of cutting the scars open. I felt it would be disrespectful to hurt myself and then use her power to heal it. I felt like I needed to suffer. I had a number of reasons, but none of them were good reasons.

The next morning, I found a single white feather on my bedside table, identical to the one I’d found after fighting the mummy some time ago. When I picked it up I had a sense that someone was trying to reach out to comfort me. I assume that both times I was visited by the celestial that the Manipulator had held hostage, whom she’d promised to free if we defeated the mummy and retrieved her scrolls for her. I deeply appreciate their concern, although I’m admittedly embarrassed that they’re aware of my moments of weakness. Perhaps someday I’ll meet this celestial in person and can thank them properly for looking out for me twice now.

At the time I felt conflicted, however. I didn’t feel worth the celestial’s notice. I felt like a waste of their time. I felt lowly for being so weak. I felt like I had to force myself to be stronger, to put back on the mask of ‘everything’s fine’ that I so often wear. If this being was trying to comfort me, I had to force myself to move forward, to not waste their efforts. I was clearly not in the best mindset. I think the first thing I’d do if I meet this celestial is apologize for taking their attempt to help me in such a negative direction.

After I did my morning meditations and prayers, my head had cleared slightly. I attempted to contact Amara with the sending spell I prepared. I told her in so many words that there was a portal to hell outside the city, and that I needed to meet with her. Then I awaited a reply. I sat in silence for many minutes, until suddenly a written message appeared for me. All it had were two symbols. Not even letters. Just a colon and the end of a parenthesis. I was baffled, uncertain if this was some kind of code, if Amara was still drunk and did the sending wrong, or if she was simply messing with my head. Amara told me later that it was supposed to be a smile, turned sideways.

:) …I guess I see it…

Frustrated with the waste of time and magic this entire endeavor had been, I decided to go downstairs. I could smell food cooking, and it turned out that Nel and Meinus had made pancakes for the rest of us. An even more welcome sight was Elkin, outside of his room and in a surprisingly chatty mood. He was encouraging Unae to eat the pancakes, which were apparently giving her a severe sugar high (to the point that she ran around playing with the animals outside until she passed out). Linda was also there, but she passed out almost immediately after I got downstairs. Apparently she’d really stayed up all night outside the hell portal.

Elkin offered me a large mug of wine. I was confused by the complete change in his mood but gladly accepted. After Unae passed out from the sugar high and Elkin returned from taking her to her room to sleep it off, I asked Elkin if he was really doing alright. I didn’t know if he’d just decided to go back to completely burying his feelings like he had been when we first met or what, but this was such a huge change from his stormy mood the last few days that I didn’t know how to take it.

Elkin explained that while he’d spent time with his new friends, the tieflings Gortus and Gurnak, they’d told him about the god Cayden Cailean. Elkin’s decided that he wants to embrace the philosophy of the god of freedom. I asked him to tell me a bit about Cayden Cailean, as I’m less familiar with him than many of the other gods. He’s apparently one of the rare gods who ascended from being mortal after passing the trials of the Starstone, and he encourages freedom and an adventurous spirit. He lacks a true holy text, and his temples are various taverns set up by the faithful. He sounds like a very different god than Sarenrae or Desna, but not in a bad way. Seeing how much more cheerful Elkin’s been this past day I heartily encourage his newfound faith.

Elkin apologized for how he’d reacted the day before, although I feel his frustration with us was justified. I apologized for making such a mess of things and for hurting him, however unintentionally it may have been. Elkin told me not to worry about it, and that he shouldn’t have expected us to be perfect in such a strenuous situation. I’m glad that Elkin is feeling better and isn’t holding any of what transpired against us, yet I still feel bad for how I handled the situation. I wish I could think of some way to make it up to him.

In the meantime, Elkin had decided to see how far he could push his good cheer, and decided to prank Linda since she’d fallen asleep on the kitchen table. He put a glob of syrup on Linda’s hands and stuck them to the table. Normally I wouldn’t likely encourage this, especially after Linda stayed up all night keeping watch so the town would be safe. But Elkin’s good mood was infectious and it was so good to see him feeling better that I let it get the better of me.

Afterwards we both decided to hightail it out of the kitchen before she woke up, as neither of us wanted to face her wrath upon discovering the prank. As we made to leave the demiplane, who should show up but Amara? My old friend told me that she would be able to close the portal into Hell, no problem. Except that she wanted to go through it first, because she needed to catch up with Bulba and the other Pathfinders. And she also needed money for her expedition, so she’d have to settle affairs in town before she’d be willing to help. I was set to be frustrated with her flippant disregard for the potential danger of having a portal to Hell wide open outside a city, when she mentioned that we could help to expedite things. She offered me a number of powerful magical items which would be incredibly useful on our own expedition. They were expensive, but less expensive than they would have been if it was someone other than Amara selling them. And some of them were absurdly useful. My personal favorite being a Ring of the Ecclesiarch, which I’ve replaced my ring of protection with. I think I’ll see if Elkin would like the ring of delayed doom, considering how often he’s been hit with mind effecting spells. There’s also a ring of spell storing, which I’m going to fill with some of the arcane spells I like. I also asked Amara if she could make some scrolls for me, so that I could cast invisibility purge and true sight without always preparing them. Considering how badly things would have ended without Cardinal Zalbrag the other day, I’m not taking my chances with invisible enemies ever again.

Amara seemed pleased with the transaction, and joked she’d throw in closing the portal to Hell for free (at least I hope she’s joking that she even considered charging for that). As a parting gift I also gave her the cloak of bones that I’d found the first time our group was in Sandpoint. I don’t have a use for it, and I suspect it’ll help Amara in her research, if “Stumpy” is any indication of her current line of research.

By now, she’s probably in Hell and the portal is closed. I hope she’ll be alright. She can be frustrating and infuriating sometimes, but she’s also a dear friend. I know she’s a powerful magic user and I’m sure she knows what she’s doing, but she has such a habit of following whatever little whim she has that I fear she may find herself in over her head one of these days.

Regardless, there’s nothing I can do to help her now. I have to hope she and the Pathfinder Association have things under control, because we have our own venture to return to soon.

By the time I was done talking with Amara, Unae had woken up and Ichibod had come down to the entryway to join us. Unae decided that Elkin needed some new clothes. It’s true, for basically the first time Elkin was walking around without his heavy armor on, and the clothing he typically wore underneath were in tatters. Ichibod and I tagged along. I didn’t want to be alone with my thoughts after the night before, and Ichibod I think just likes the company and spending time with us.

We made our way to a clothing shop that I believe was in town even before the recent expansion. Unae found some nice daily clothes for Elkin, and picked out a breathtaking dress for herself designed to emulate Desna. I bought some clothes Ichibod picked out for Timmy after we remembered that he had basically no funds of his own. I also bought some robes for myself. Something formal, but not so much as the clothes I’d worn the day before. Really, all I wanted was to buy some basic tunics for daily wear, but I guess I do need to look the part of a bishop now, and the shop didn’t sell the more simple garments I was interested in. The colors are right for it, at least.

Afterwards I split off from the others. They planned to go to a blacksmith to buy armor and new under-armor for Elkin, while I still wanted to go to another clothing store to buy some regular tunics. I spent some time browsing on my own and found a couple of outfits that were to my liking.

Looking back, going by myself defeated the purpose of wanting to spend time with the others to keep from being alone with my own thoughts, but by this point I was thoroughly distracted, so whatever works I suppose.

I returned to the demiplane and changed into one of my new outfits. Despite having to see my bandaged scars to change clothes, having a new outfit did help me to feel marginally better in a way.

Afterwards I went outside with the intention of watching the ocean waves for a bit, but as I left the ship I saw Ichibod approaching with the wheelbarrow of scrap metal, which he was struggling to push. I offered to lend him a hand, which he readily agreed to. I was more than happy to help, as I told Ichibod, I’d prepared the perfect spell which was going to go to waste otherwise.

I cast plane shift, teleporting myself, Ichibod, and the wheelbarrow directly into Ichibod’s room in the demiplane. Ichibod was a bit giddy afterwards, and his mood was infectious. Teleporting in this manner was actually a fun experience. Not like some dimension jumping experiences I could mention and wish I could forget.

Ichibod began fiddling with his scrap metal and we chatted for some time. He showed me a machine he’d brought with him that could help him to perform surgeries and allowed him to create pieces of technology if he had the right materials. I’m not keen on the idea of someone cutting me open and sticking metal bits inside me, that’s typically what I spend my day-to-day life avoiding. Ichibod said he knew I didn’t want to undergo surgery, but that he wanted to make a gift for me regardless, in the form of one of those tablets that Clyde had given Linda. He said it could be used to continue writing this journal, but without as much risk of damage. It might also be able to hold arcane spells or other kinds of magic that depend on written word. It would take some getting used to, but the idea is intriguing. It would certainly take less room than carrying multiple scrolls, journals, and writing supplies, with less risk of being damaged during our journeys.

I told him that it seemed like a good idea, and that I deeply appreciated the thought. Afterwards he showed me a lovely design he’d been planning for a metal flower with a clock or compass in the center for Unae, which I believe she’ll love. Ichibod expressed that he wanted to make something for every member of our group. He wanted to feel useful, and to be able to make things to benefit all of us.

For the first time I think I’ve come to appreciate just how hard Ichibod is trying. He’s foreign and seems strange to us much of the time, and until now I’d disregarded many of his actions as absurd and poorly thought out. But from how he talked to me today, all he really wants is to be our friend and to find his place in this strange world with his son. Sometimes I think he tries a little too hard, and that causes him to throw himself into things without thinking it through, but his heart is clearly in the right place.

Eventually our discussion turned to our group and this world. I told Ichibod that I would gladly answer any questions he had to the best of my ability. He deserved as much, after following us blindly for the past week.

Ichibod’s first question surprised me, he wanted to learn more about our deities. The city of Blackwell had lost virtually all knowledge of the gods under the former King Blackwell’s rule. I explained the concept of the gods to Ichibod in the most basic way I could think of. I went on to tell him more about Sarenrae, about her affiliation with the sun and about the desert land where the Dawnflower’s worship first took root. Ichibod asked if I was from the desert. Much as I would like to claim Keleshite descent, I told him that no, I’m originally from Cheliax.

Fortunately Ichibod didn’t ask for specifics of Chelaxian society, instead asking how I ended up following the Dawnflower’s path if I wasn’t from a land that worshipped her. I admitted to Ichibod that my story might sound a bit farfetched, but Ichibod pointed out that everything about our group seemed a bit fanciful at this point. I cannot disagree. As such, I told him a bit about my history. I did not go into much detail about the Dragon Raiders, although I do intent to tell Ichibod about my past before we leave for Xin’Shalast. There’s a couple of things I need to do before we head out, knowing that I’ll likely face Emmery for a final time there.

I did tell him about my time as a lone mercenary after leaving the Raiders, and about throwing myself into battle to find some semblance of purpose. Then, of course, I told him about how that life lead to my death, and how I was brought back by a celestial servant of Sarenrae. Ichibod chimed in that it reminded him of when I brought him back to life. He said that in a way my resurrecting him had given him the chance to embrace his transformation after awakening, much as I embraced a new path with Sarenrae’s blessing. I had never considered this. For me, resurrecting Ichibod had been a horrifying moment in which I held a new ally’s life in many hands, in which I was the only one who could keep that life from being cut short. From Ichibod’s perspective, however, it would seem it was an eye opening experience very similar to what I had been through.

We spoke for some time more. I told him about our fight with the giants, about Linda besting the red dragon, and our journey to the giant’s fortress. I explained to him what our group’s current goal was in Xin’Shalast, tracking down and destroying the Rune Lord Karvoug for the evil he has and will unleash on the world. I told him that each of us had a personal enemy who was likely waiting for us there. Ichibod admitted that he felt it was likely that Mary would be there. He admitted that while things had been getting cold between them for a while, what really hurt him about her betrayal was how she abandoned Timmy. This struck a chord with me, and I fear some of my anger must have shone through as I spoke. It’s cruel that she left her child alone with people he didn’t know in a world that was completely alien to him. What if she’d been wrong about us stopping in Sandpoint? What if we’d gone straight from Blackwell to Xin’Shalast? What if we hadn’t thought to stop by the Rusty Dragon to see Betsy? What if Timmy had wandered off on his own without his parents there? There were a number of things that could have gone wrong, that could have left Timmy without either of his parents, or lost where Ichibod couldn’t find him.

It’s bad enough that the boy will likely spend much of his young life wondering why his mother abandoned him and his father. Timmy seems like a smart kid. I pray that he’s smart enough to know that this was her choice and not something caused by him. I don’t know if anything can hurt a child more than believing their parent abandoned them, and questioning if it was because of them, if there’s something wrong with them that caused it…

These same thoughts crossed my mind when Ichibod spoke of Mary abandoning their son. As I said, my emotions must have gotten the better of me, because Ichibod put a hand on my shoulder and tried to comfort me. I’m a bit annoyed with myself for being such an open book in the moment. Ichibod is the one whose wife abandoned him and his child, and who was likely manipulating him for many years before then. I should have been trying to comfort him, not the other way around.

Regardless, we drifted to more pleasant subjects and stayed in his room for a bit longer before Ichibod decided he needed to go check on Timmy. He offered for me to join him, to which I agreed. I had an idle idea as we left the room, and asked Ichibod if Timmy had any animals he particularly liked so far. When asked why, I explained to Ichibod that I’d been practicing whittling and wanted to try making some small toys for Timmy and the Blackwell twins.

When I had to explain what whittling was, Ichibod suddenly began freaking out. For some reason Ichibod was under the impression that trees were sentient creatures, like animals or people. I had to explain what a plant was, but not before Ichibod managed to slip in a particularly gruesome comparison to whittling being like chopping up a person’s child. I’ve asked Ichibod to never use that particular word choice again. Ever.

Ichibod eventually seemed to understand that I wasn’t suggesting chopping up a live feeling creature, and he calmed down a bit. Before we could find a new subject matter, however, a new subject found us in the form of Elkin bursting into the demiplane with Unae. He started yelling for me in a panic and told me that “Unae’s brain is rotting”. When I finally managed to calm him down enough to form a more coherent sentence, he explained that they went to see a doctor about Unae’s strange condition that causes her to get sick around Elkin. The doctor in question claimed that Unae could be suffering from “elven dementia”, hence Elkin’s assertion that Unae’s brain was rotting.

This diagnosis didn’t sound right, and when I examined her I didn’t find anything to suggest this. I even used spells to sense poison or magic on her, just in case, but there was nothing. Ichibod insisted on trying out his “new toy” on Unae. He folded out the cube, now apparently named Nemo, and had it examine her. The machine came to the same conclusion as me, Unae is perfectly healthy. The only other cause Ichibod could think of was a curse, which sounds reasonable. I have a spell I could prepare later to attempt to remove it if it is a curse. It’s a shame I lack any magic that can identify curses to know if it’ll actually do anything, however.

We didn’t get to discuss more possibilities, however, as at the moment Linda woke up.

As you may recall, Elkin played a prank on Linda a few hours earlier, in which he put syrup in her hands while she was asleep.

Elkin heard Linda’s enraged yell and made a dash for his room. Linda came barreling up the stairs after him. She drew her axe with the intention of breaking down his door.

I warned Linda not to do it. I told her that if she tried to break down the door, I would eject her from the demiplane. She didn’t listen. So I did. Only as far as the ship, so she could reenter as she wished. I’d hoped that it would give her a moment to cool her head.

It did not. Instead she charged back into the demiplane and made a beeline for Elkin’s door. I ejected her again. This continued for maybe a good five minutes, and I don’t regret a moment of it. After the first few times I really just kept going out of curiosity for how long she would keep it up. Would she exhaust herself first, or realize that trying to force her way into the demiplane was futile and give up?

Neither apparently. She kept going without any sign of even considering giving up, until Ichibod decided to backstab me and used the same planeshift spell I’d shown him only an hour earlier to teleport Linda directly into Elkin’s room. A moment later Elkin had dashed out of his room with Linda hot on his heels. They ran outside to the pasture where we’d relocated Unae’s animal friends. There Linda tackled Elkin and began rubbing the half-day old syrup all over Elkin’s face and horns. The small muscle-bound queen tackling our towering tiefling friend to the ground and rubbing gelatinous sugar on his face was quite the sight.

Our merriment was halted for a moment by a strange sight in the pasture. Timmy was playing with the ever growing number of rabbits, and a creature we’d never seen before had joined him. It had the body of a wolf and the head of some kind of deer. The being spotted us, and bounded over to Unae. It nuzzled her gently before running to the edge of the demiplane and vanishing.

Unae came to the conclusion that the creature was the reincarnation of Lamatar Bayden and his fae lover. When Unae had returned his spirit to her, the two of them had joined together to form a new being. That was when they left behind the twin rings that now linked Unae and Elkin.

I’m glad to know the two of them found peace in the end. I wasn’t in a state of mind to go with Unae when she went to sooth the fae’s spirit, so I never really knew what happened to their spirits. It’s good to finally see the result, and know that they’re happy despite the hardships they faced.

After the moment passed, we all returned to the manor. With all of us finally together, awake, and in high spirits, Ichibod suggested we have a little party to celebrate our recent string of victories. Elkin quickly jumped on board, offering to supply us with more than enough alcohol to last the night. Unae and Ichibod vanished off to somewhere together, and I excused myself for a moment as well. Elkin was not just back to normal, but was in a better mood than I’d likely ever seen him. The others were all happy, and we’d had a great day together without anything trying to kill us or tear our group apart. I felt that in the spirit of my friends’ current joy, I needed to mend my own open wounds. There was no place for that kind of self hatred and self pity at this party.

When I returned, Elkin had brought out a number of barrels of alcohol for us. Ichibod returned with Unae. He’d used his form changing magic to dress up in a fine outfit, even exchanging his witch’s hat for a top hat. I poked fun that he was the only one dressing up, but it looked good on him, and he was clearly having a good time with the rest of us. Linda suggested some drinking games, and we all decided to join in.

Honestly, my memory is a bit hazy after that. I recall we played a game Linda called ‘never have I ever’, and I’ve done enough that the night blurred together rather early on. I think that due to the nature of the game (and the charcoal drawings we found on our faces the next day), Unae was the last one left standing. She was alos the only one who actually made it to her room for the night, the rest of us woke the next day still at the table.

I wish to end this entry on a good note. Unfortunately, we didn’t wake up in the same cheerful mood we’d gone to sleep in. As we slept, we had another vision. At least, I think it was just a vision. There was something decidedly different about this one that the visions and dream scrying we’d experienced in the past. I will document it next time.

#pathfinder #Journal Entry #Rise of the Runelords

[tessatechaitea]

Action Comics #975

"Bizarro am looking at Superman's ass!"

No! No! Not the fridge! This is going to be grotesque!

Jon isn't chopped up inside the fridge even if that would have been the best Rebirth moment yet. Instead, it's full of junk food. If it wasn't for the cover with Mr. Mxyzptlk on it, I'd be guessing Bizarro was the culprit. But I'm also a card carrying member of the Trixie Belden School of Detectivanting (that's doing detective work while gallivanting around the globe) so I saw some huge clues earlier that Clark Kent couldn't be Bizarro. Like how he could conjugate "to be". Not that most Americans could conjugate "to be" if you asked them. "To be. To have been. To be better. To behave?" Clark appears out of nowhere (he must have been in nowhere since Superman didn't hear his heartbeat nearby). Superman immediately resorts to violence while accusing Clark of taking their son. That's understandable, I guess. I don't know if I'd be angry if somebody took my son but if they took my cat, I'd throw punches first, ask questions later (after regaining consciousness from being beaten up because I suck at fighting). Clark responds with, "Oh, the son you never told me about?!" Why the fuck would Superman need to tell Clark Kent about his son?! This guy has an ego problem. Hmm. Being that Clark is really Mxy, that previous statement is pretty fucking obvious. Mr. Mxyzptlk reveals his plan to Superman. He was just trying to help Superman regain his secret identity by pretending to be Clark Kent. And he wasn't just pretending! He cast a spell so strong that he truly believed he was. Well, he calls it a spell. But really, he's just manipulating three dimensional reality the way I...well, never mind what I was going to compare that to. It's personal. Mxy reveals his plan but not his identity. He wants Superman to guess! Well, that should take the rest of the comic book seeing as how answering questions isn't as easy as punching faces.

Wait. So he is Bizarro? I'm confused!

Mr. Mxyzptlk finally reveals himself and tells Superman that he's going to make everybody forget about Jon the way Superman forgot about Mxy. That's cool. I'd be okay with the moment at the end of this issue where Lois says "Jon who?" being the end of the Superman Reborn story. I'm already forgetting about the little fucking cat murderer. The Ranking! No change! At least Jurgens didn't wait until the last possible moment to reveal Clark Kent's true identity. Also, I don't know why I'm doing this ranking bit when I haven't even mentioned the back-up story yet! Whoops! The back-up story takes place in a world of doors. It's where Jon's being kept captive by Mxy. Maybe "captive" is the wrong word since they're just hanging out the way friends do. Although if my friend Doom Bunny ever dropped by unexpectedly, I'd feel like I was being held captive in my own home. So maybe "held captive" is synonymous enough with "hanging out with friends." Mxy tells Jon a story about the last time he tried to come to Earth to fuck with Jon's dad. I mean play with him! I guess "fuck" and "play" can also be synonymous, right?! Anyway, when Mxy appeared, he was instantly captured by Dr. Oz. Mxy's feelings were hurt when Superman never came to save him. He really does have a huge ego, doesn't he? Mxy lets Jon know that he's stuck in Doorland until Superman figures out how to beat him. How will Superman get Mxy to say his name backwards this time? I bet he just punches Mxy in the face until Mxy says "Uncle." I mean "Kltpzyxm!"

#Action Comics #DC Comics #Paul Dini #Dan Jurgens #Doug Mahnke #Jaime Mendoza #Wil Quintana #Ian Churchill #Mike Atiyeh