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earth-ambassador-jim · 3 years

Text

Parent/Mentor Swap AU

The swaps:

Aaarrrgghh – Bular

Blinky – Nomura

Barbara – Strickler

Yeah so this was meant to just be a short explanation but it’s not so please enjoy my 2500ish word backstory for this AU. (Jim will still be the Trollhunter.)

Bular

Shortly before the Battle of Killahead Bridge Bular is talking with his father about their plans for their future kingdom. In the course of the discussion Gunmar reveals that he wants to eliminate all humans and bring about a literal Eternal Night. (Gunmar has talked about the Eternal Night before but Bular assumed it was a metaphor.)

Bular doesn’t like humans per say. He definitely agrees that their numbers need to be reduced. He certainly wants them to be cast down into the dust and subjected to the rule of trollkind…

But he doesn’t want them gone.

The thought has frankly never occurred to him.

Humans are pests but they are tasty and create useful things. The world will be worse off without them.

The second point is even worse. Bular may be rash at times but he is not a fool. Trolls may not survive under the sun but they won’t survive without it either. Bular has traveled far and wide recruiting trolls for Gunmar’s cause. He’s seen what the Northern Lands become during the winter when for a time the sun ceases to rise.

Based of off that he has a fairly good idea of what the surface will become like under the Eternal Night and it is not desirable. There is no point in taking over the surface only to decimate it.

He tries to argue these points but his father will not listen. Eventually shutting the conversation down entirely with a warning snarl.

Bular is left uneasy. He wonders if it is wise for Gunmar to be the ruler anymore. He wonders if there might be more substance to the rumors of his father’s madness then he thought.

As the War comes to a head and the Battle of Killahead Bridge draws near, Bular tries to convince his father to change his mind. He receives only growls, sneers and a couple beat downs for his trouble.

Eventually he decides that other measures must be taken.

He considers starting an uprising but he doesn’t want to kill his father. Eventually he learns of Deya’s plan to banish Gunmar into the Darklands and decides to assist her. He thinks that spending some time in a world without humans or the sun might bring Gunmar to his senses.

Unfortunately Gunmar learns of this.

Bular, not wanting to fight his father, flees. Gunmar can’t leave to pursue his son, so he sends a detachment of soldiers lead by his most trusted general Aaarrrgghh after him.

Centuries later he comes to Arcadia. He is not accepted by the local troll population for a very long time. They don’t believe he’s really changed sides. It also doesn’t help that unlike Cannon!Aaarrrgghh he is not a pacifist. (He has sworn off eating humans however.) He eventually wins them over by helping the Kanjigar protect Trollmarket. He’s brought into the market for the first time because his energy drops to dangerously low levels (he’s completely catatonic when Kanjigar finds him) because he hasn’t been near a heartstone for centuries and doesn’t eat humans anymore. (I headcannon that eating humans allows for trolls to live away from a heartstone because humans produce a similar energy but in very small amounts).

Aaarrrgghh

Aaarrrgghh’s origin story is the same as in cannon: he was given to Gunmar by Usurna to be his champion.

In this story he doesn’t switch sides at the battle of Killahead. Seeing the destruction wrought by humans on uninvolved trolls leads him to believe that Gunmar is in the right about wiping them out. When the battle of Kilahead happens, he and his detachment of soldiers become the only Gum Gums outside of the Darklands (or rather the only known Gumm-Gumms) because they were hunting for Bular at the time.

Aaarrrgghh works rather loosely with the changelings as well as doing “recruiting” of more trolls to the Gumm-Gumm cause. (More like threatening into obedience).

Aaarrrgghh comes to Arcadia when he learns of the Trollmarket and Trollhunter’s presence there.

Aaarrrgghh’s presence combined with his small battalion results in more skirmishes with Trollmarket than in cannon. Bular and Draal work with Kanjigar to protect trolls that go out to scavenge against the Gumm-Gumms. The Janus Order has their hands full keeping the constant fighting secret.

Aaarrrgghh generally stays in Barbara’s basement which has a tunnel connecting it to the sewer system. (Disguised with magic so Trollmarket trolls and maintenance workers don’t find it.)

He often leaves the window open and tries to lure cats in for him to eat. This is how he meets Toby.

Toby happens to be looking for one of their missing cats. He finds paw prints leading to the open basement window. He attempts to get in the window but is shoved back by a pole. (Aaarrrgghh has been told repeatedly to not eat the neighbors since this will draw to much scrutiny and they will have to find him a new den if he does.) This distracts him from the cat as he is now more interested in learning about the strange something living in the basement of what he thought was an unoccupied house. He starts asking Aaarrrgghh (who he can’t see) questions about himself and Aaarrrgghh (who isn’t quite sure what to do in this situation) awkwardly responds.

Eventually Toby falls into the habit of visiting Aaarrrgghh’s basement window in the evening and jabbering to him about his day. He brings him little treats and will occasionally ask him questions.

Aaarrrgghh ends up growing fond of him and decides that while he doesn’t like humans in general this one is okay and he starts making plans to keep Toby alive after Gunmar returns.

Blinky (Bartholomew Georgiou)

Blinky is given as a whelp to the Gum-Gumms by his brother Dictacious (who was working as a spy for Gunmar at the time) and made into a changeling. He’s slightly older than Barbara.

Blinky works at the Arcadia museum. He is in the habit of swapping out old, rare books with exact replicas so he can horde the originals in his secret library.

He has an incredible collection of books from many ages and places. He guards them zealously. Entering his library without permission is suicide and generally ends in the offender being blown to pieces by one of Blinky’s booby traps.

He has very few books of Trollish origin and would do just about anything for more.

Nomura

Nomura was stolen by the Gumm-Gumm’s when she was a child but her parents survived the initial raid and several decades later they are able to rescue her. Her time with the Gumm-Gumm’s have left its mark, however, and she no longer fit the other trolls in her clan. Her family eventually moves to Dwoza Trollmarket.

She doesn’t really fit in with the younglings her age there either but she makes friends with the archivist. He eventually takes her on as his apprentice and when he passes she takes over as the Trollmarket librarian. She takes her job very seriously and does not tolerate loss or abuse of books.

She becomes friends with Draal (due to having similar temperaments) and later she becomes the first troll to truly accept Bular in the Arcadia Trollmarket.

Barbara

Barbara is a 700(ish) year old changeling (equivalent of 40-50 human years) and the head of the Janus Order. She’s still a doctor and has the most knowledge of how troll and human bodies work of any one person on the planet. This is partially due to how long she’s been alive but also to the large number of often highly unethical experiments she’s carried out on both species.

Barbara meets James Sturges when she’s working on retrieving a piece of the Killahead Bridge in Maine (officially she’s just a nurse at the hospital named Janet). They hit it off and start dating. Barbara finds his expectations for how she’s supposed to act a little annoying but it suits the role she’s currently playing so she goes along with them.

Then James makes the mistake of breaking one of Barbara’s rules and goes through some of her off-limits stuff, so she kills him and disposes of the body.

She assumes that’s the end of that but about 4 months later when she tries to shift into troll form she can’t. Aside from a curse, there is one thing that will prevent a changeling from shifting back into a troll. A trip to the local pharmacy confirms it: she’s pregnant.

This is certainly a dilemma.

Until she’s done with the pregnancy (one way or another) she’s trapped in her human form.

In the past she would have had an abortion without a second thought, but with Gunmar’s release and the destruction of the human race drawing closer and closer this will probably be her last real opportunity to experience pregnancy. So out of pure scientific curiosity she decides to go through with it.

Quite a few arrangements have to be made but soon she’s on her way to her hidden cabin out in a remote area of Alaska.

The pregnancy and birth go well and soon she is the mother to a little boy. She names him James after his father, figuring that will keep her from getting attached. She plans to keep him for two or three years to observe his growth and see if any changeling traits manifest after which point she’ll drop him off at an orphanage or something. As far as the Janus Order can tell human-changeling unions produce completely human children, but one can never beat first hand observation and experience.

She initially chalks up the warm and mushy feelings she’s getting to hormones. It isn’t until Jim is about two and a half that she’s tucking him into bed one night and Jim gives her a sleepy smile and leans into her hand that she realizes that she really truly loves him.

This was not in the plan.

After Jim is asleep, Barbara calmly goes outside and devotes an hour to cursing. (One of the perks of living centuries is that she’s had ample opportunity to amass an extensive collection of swear words.) After that she feels a lot calmer and more ready to look at the situation in a rational manner.

The fact of the matter is that she genuinely cares about Jim. She’s developed feelings for people in the past but it’s always been something she’s been able to pass off as part of her cover. (She still misses her pirate crew sometimes). Jim however is not. Barbara has a lot of enemies. If Jim’s relationship to Barbara is discovered he will never know peace and if Barbara keeps Jim around it will be discovered.

So it’s with a strangely heavy heart that Barbara realizes that this changes nothing: the best thing for Jim is for her to give him up.

On his third birthday she gives him some tea that will make sure he stays soundly asleep. Barbara can’t go through the legal process of giving up a child because: A. Jim does not exist in any legal manner and B. As changelings are everywhere and Barbara is well known (infamous really) there is a very real possibility that someone would find out. So she leaves him on the doorstep of a foster family she has carefully vetted out as responsible and trustworthy and keeps watch from some hidden cameras until she knows he has been found and is going to be taken care of. With him are a note with his date of birth and first name and a necklace with a pendant carved from Barbara’s own stone (Barbara isn’t very good at magic but she was able to enchant it with a simple protection and luck spell.).

Once she’s satisfied that Jim will be cared for she goes on her way and forces herself to not look back.

Nine years later she moves to Arcadia and three years after that she is very shocked to find a found add describing the Amulet of Daylight of all things. She calls the number but is told that the amulet was already claimed. Further investigation reveals that the amulet has chosen its first human bearer (or so everyone thinks). Barbara feels a bit of a twinge in her heart when she learns that the new Trollhunter is about the same age her son would be and that his name is Jim but doesn’t think too much of it. There are a lot of Jims in the world after all and she left hers in Alaska.

She immediately arranges a very minor “accident” as an excuse to make contact with his father in order to keep an eye on him.

Walter

Walter Strickler is a history teacher at University of Alaska Anchorage. He enjoys his life and his job but there’s one thing lacking: he’s always wanted a child.

He’s had a few relationships over the years but none have ever stuck. He’s also of the opinion that he shouldn’t go into a relationship specifically with the end goal of having a kid.

He weighs his options and decides that he’s financially very stable at the moment. His work hours are consistent and he can afford to cut back a little; especially since his stock investments have been doing well in the recent years. All things considered: he decides he’s in a place that he can be a single parent.

He begins looking into adoption.

Eventually he finds Jim. As Jim has no parents or relations on record, the adoption is relatively simple.

Jim is very shy at first (having spent his life so far out in the woods with only his Mom for company). Eventually he warms up to Walter and then becomes very clingy. Living with only one other person for his early years and then being left behind has left Jim with some attachment issues.

Walter ends up taking him to his classes where he sits in the back and doodles while Walter lectures. He’s a rather quiet kid (most of the time) so this works out well. Walter’s students adopt him as the class mascot.

When Jim is five, right before he’s ready to start Kindergarten, Walter’s mom falls ill. Walter is an only child, so after some debate he ends up moving back to his hometown of Arcadia, California to care for her.

He meets Nancy Domzalski through the chest club and through her Jim meets Toby. The two boys become fast friends.

When Walter’s mother passes away four years later, he decides to stay in Arcadia. Jim is well settled and Walter enjoys his job teaching history at Arcadia High School.

Things are going well.

Then his son finds a strange blue amulet in the canal. It looks fairly expensive so Walter puts a found add up and assumes the owner will give him a call. Then settles down to work on grading papers.

He is definitely not prepared when his son, sitting across the table from him, reads an incantation off the amulet and starts floating.

He is even less prepared when a large stony monster the size of a large grizzly barges into their house.

Bular attempts to explain the situation to the father-son duo but they both faint from terror.

Not quite sure what else to do he wraps them up in a tarp and takes them to Trollmarket. He figures Vendal can sort it out.

#Trollhunters #Tales of Arcadia #Bular #walter strickler #Barbara Lake #Blinky #blinkous galadrigal #Aaarrrgghh #Nomura #jim lake jr #James Lake Jr #my posts #my writing #my AUs #Parent/Mentor Swap AU #Parent Swap AU #Mentor Swap AU #I need a better name for this #feel free to make suggestions

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fanmoose12 · 3 years

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the devil you know

Сharacters: Hange Zoe, Levi, Moblit Berner, Zeke Yeagar, Armin Arlert

Genres: Action / Drama

Summary: Can you still miss a person, if everything you knew about them was a lie?

Сhapter 7/?

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Сhapter 6

Life had never been particularly kind to Hange Zoe. Tragedies and heartbreaks followed her ever since the day she was born – kicking, screaming and nearly killing her own mother. Her mother never recovered from that blow, her health diminishing while vexation with her own child grew.

That day gave a start to Hange’s life – and to the endless stream of misfortunes she had to face.

Those misfortunes frequented, the amount of bad days increased as Hange was becoming older. But even as a child, driven solely by curiosity and fascination for the world, uncaring of the workings and the rules of the society around her, she had her fair share of frustrations. They usually appeared when her father was around – luckily, due to the nature of his work, he very rarely was. Hange didn’t know her father well, he was always absent, always somewhere else, doing something incredibly important, shaping the future of their country. He was many things - a leader, soldier, hero. But he was not a father. Hange had but a few memories of him, and after all these years she had forgotten the sound of his voice, couldn’t for the life of her remember if his hair was as brown as her own, or had she inherited that vivid color from her mother. But what Hange could never forget, what was etched into her memory for all eternity was the look in his eyes – full of incomprehension, bewilder, disappointment – that he always aimed at her. No matter what she did – excitedly gushed about her studies, showed him a shiny rock she found or urged to go and see the frog she caught, her father had the same reaction, always told her the same thing,

“I expected better from you, Hange.”

Those words were the first dagger that was buried in her chest. But it was far from being the only one.

Her father died before she reached her eleventh birthday. And despite the mourning clothes mother had forced her to wear, despite the endless eulogies she had to sit through, Hange didn’t feel the same sadness that everyone around her did, she didn’t – couldn’t – share their pain or understand their grief. Her father meant something for all those people, but to her he was just a stranger, an unpleasant one at that. When he died, a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. Without him, it was so much easier to breathe.

But her sorrows, her frustrations— sadly, they didn’t end with her father’s death.

Once Hange finished her studies, completed her training, she was sent to the outside world, far away from Marley. And for a moment, for one fleeting moment, she was happy, excited to do what she always wanted – learn and explore. But she was not meant to busy herself with research, to familiarize herself with different cultures, she was sent to these distant lands as a soldier, a weapon of great Marleyan Empire. Instead of books and quills, she held a rifle and a knife. And the only thing she learnt was how much blood her motherland was spilling on the foreign soils.

Sleep was coming harder to her after that, her dreams were haunted by visions of red, by screams of pain and anguish. She had become a soldier, her hands made for creation were now covered in blood. Her brilliant mind was now broken by the horrors she had faced.

And so Hange decided to cover herself in thick armor, to hide behind a smile and false happiness. The bad days persisted, losses following after her like a shadow, chasing like an infatuated lover, but she didn’t let it break her, continued moving forward with her chin raised high and her lips curled up.

However, despite the positive attitude she had adopted, there were lots of days Hange considered bad, awful even – the day when she learned just how Titans were created, what price Eldians had to pay for that; the day when she realized that her teacher, brilliant Tom Ksaver was one of those so called shifters, that his days in this world would end abruptly; the day when she received her first wound and spent the night in infirmary, wallowing in pain; the day when she killed another human for the first time and saw the light fading from someone else’s eyes; the day when Wall Maria fell and she witnessed just how much destruction and devastation she helped to bring to this little island; the day when Mike and Nanaba died; the day when her squad perished; the day when she had to leave Paradis behind; the day when she was brought back.

There were lots of days Hange considered to be bad. But nothing – absolutely nothing – could compare to the fucking shit show that was waiting for her next.

___

This fateful day was off to a good, if only slightly weird, start. As always she was woken up by a knock on the door. However, this one was very different from Moblit’s – less rhythmic, and much louder. In fact, it didn’t sound like a knock at all, more like someone was kicking the door repeatedly.

Confused and still sleepy, Hange rolled from the bed and went to greet her guest, not bothering to put her glasses on. Behind the now opened door she found… a shape that could or could not belong to a human. She raised her hand, mumbled a quick ‘sorry’ and darted back inside the room, blindly searching for her glasses.

Once the specs took their rightful place on the bridge of her nose, Hange returned back to the shape that now took the form of a young, blonde man. She trailed her gaze down, to the tray he was holding. There were plates with pastries, omelet, sandwiches, sausages and a cup with brown liquid that had steam coming out of it.

“I’m sorry,” she spoke through her confusion, “But do I know you?”

“Not… yet?”

Hange couldn’t understand if his words were meant to be an affirmation or a question. Nevertheless, she took a step back, letting him in.

He went straight to setting up the table, humming under his breath as he did so. Hange watched him work, not knowing how to feel – puzzled or amused. She tried to catch the boy’s gaze and ask for his name, but, considering the amount of food he brought and how exquisitely delicious it looked, Hange already had a pretty solid guess about the persona of her visitor.

“Be my guest,” he gestured to the table after he finished setting it. Then, as an afterthought, he added, “My name is Niccolo.”

“I guessed it already,” Hange smiled, taking a seat. Her stomach growled, as the delicious smell of homemade food entered her nostrils, her mouth filling with saliva even before she took a fork in her hands. She forced herself to look away from the food, however, directing her eyes at the man who had prepared it all. “Thank you for the food, but may I ask what is the occasion?”

Niccolo didn’t answer right away. He took his time, dragging the chair to sit on the other side of the table, then absentmindedly fixing the napkin and pushing the plate closer to Hange.

She didn’t urge him, patiently waiting for him to start talking. She had a feeling that whatever he came here to tell her was going to be extremely interesting.

And Niccolo didn’t disappoint.

“I’ve spent most of my life hating Eldians. Like every good, conscious Marleyan, I believed them to be devils and abominations. When these people captured me I thought it’d be better to die than live among them. But then I’ve got to know them better, I cooked for them, I’ve talked with them, I… grew to like some of them.”

He took a pause, and Hange used this moment to push some food into her mouth. Just as she expected – it was finger-liking good. And it tasted even better, because she also had an intriguing story she could listen to while eating.

“And there is one person that I like most of all, more than anyone I had ever met. I’ve realized my feelings long ago - perhaps, they were born the moment that I set my eyes on her, perhaps, it was destiny that brought both of us together. And to think of it – a Marleyan and an Eldian. If someone had told me years ago that I’d fall for a devil from Paradis, I’d probably punch that person in the face, but look at me now…”

A Marleyan and an Eldian? Hange had heard that story before. Hopefully, Niccolo’s would have a happier ending.

“I wanted to confess to Sasha for a while now, but the time was never right, and I kept stalling… You know, I thought there was no reason to be hasty. but then Jean told me what happened during the attack on Liberio, how I almost lost Sasha and my chance to tell her how I truly feel, so…” Niccolo looked Hange in the eyes, his gaze shining with the love he had for Sasha. “I came to say thank you. For giving me another chance.”

Oh, what a sweetheart. Hange felt her chest warm at the sight of such devotion. She always was a sucker for a young, tender love.

“And?” she leaned over the table, eyes alight with curiosity. “What did Sasha say? She returned your feelings, right?”

“Um.” Niccolo brought a hand to his neck, rubbing the back of it. “I didn’t do it, didn’t, eh, confess. Yet.”

“And when—”

“Today,” he said, confidence returning to his voice. “I planned a dinner for Sasha, invited her family and friends. Actually… I wanted to invite you as well.”

Despite regret that spread through her, Hange curled her lips in a comforting, gentle smile. “Not the best idea, but I appreciate the thought. And,” she added, her smile turning into a cheeky grin. “I’ll be expecting another visit from you, where you’ll share all the details.”

Hange wished she could see it for herself – Niccolo standing before Sasha red in the face, stuttering his undoubtedly sweet confession, Sasha gasping, with her mouth opening in shock, their audience watching it all with a mix of mortification and amusement. Hange wished she could have the privilege of being the part of that audience, alongside a certain Captain, who would cringe horribly at the scene, unfolding before their eyes.

Hange wished— for many things. Alas…

“I’m sure your plan will work out perfectly, but just in case,” Hange winked, snickering, when she saw red spread through Niccolo’s cheeks. “Good luck.”

“Knowing Sasha’s friends… I’ll need all the luck I can get. But for now, I also need to get going, the dinner won’t prepare itself. So thank you once again.” Niccolo stood up, bowing his head. “For everything.”

“Make Sasha happy, that’s all the thanks I need.”

Niccolo nodded, showing her a smile. He headed to the door, and just before he left the room, Hange gave him thumbs up, wishing him luck once more.

As the door behind him closed, she slumped back in the chair and continued munching on her breakfast, a blissful expression appearing on her face.

So… not only a great cook, but also a romantic? Sasha was such a lucky girl.

___

Her next visitors were just as unexpected, and their conversation - a lot less pleasant. It was in that moment that Hange started to suspect that this day would take its rightful place in the collection of her awful ones. But she was far from knowing just how horrible it had the potential to become.

The moment that Armin tumbled inside the room without knocking, throwing the door open in his haste, and Mikasa trailed after him, her pace much slower but just as unsure, dread settled in Hange's stomach.

"Hange-san!" Armin was speaking in a quiet, but barely controlled voice. His chest moved rapidly, as he struggled to keep his breathing slow and even. Hange swallowed her worry, her thoughts running at a lighting speed. What could possibly have happened to make him so panicked? She chanced a look at Mikasa - the young girl wore the same guarded expression she always did, but her eyes kept shifting from side to side, hands clasped together tight enough to make her knuckles white. "We need to talk."

Hange gave them a cautious nod and stood up from the bed, the book she was reading moments ago all but forgotten now. Pieck's warning was loud in her mind, as her fear grew. Marley... they couldn't have attacked so swiftly, right?

Hange gestured for her guests to take their seats at the table that stood near the window. Absentmindedly, she wondered where Moblit was. He didn't show his face to her even once this day. What could he be so busy with?

"Your guard told us that you had a visitor today," Armin stiffly began. "Mind telling us who that was?"

Hange frowned, cocking her head to the side. If the guard told Armin about the visitor, didn't she also mention that it was Niccolo? The cooking boy had to be known around the barracks, if he was that close to Sasha.

"Niccolo came by, he wanted—"

"You mean, Marleyan came by." Armin corrected.

"Sasha's and your friend, if I understood properly," Hange protested.

"But he's Marleyan. Just like you."

So, Armin was accusing her. And not only her, but Niccolo too. Accusing them of conspiring, but for what purpose? By which means? Against who? Hange was so confused. Hange didn't understand. Armin was always so rational, so coolheaded. What could possibly make him so frantic? What drove him to such desperation, to such wild guesses?

"Armin..." any other time, with any other person who trusted her just a fraction more, Hange would have taken their hand in hers. She'd caress it gently, try to calm them down, but in Armin's state... Hange worried that it'd make matters even worse. "Armin," she repeated, lowering her voice ever so slightly, making it sound more trustworthy. "What happened?"

Armin didn't answer, lowering his eyes - in shame or indecisiveness, Hange couldn't guess. And so Mikasa took the word.

"Chief Zacklay is dead," she said. And if that wasn't mind-blowing enough, she added, "Eren escaped from the prison."

"Fuck."

What else was there to say? Everything was turned on its head - Paradis' biggest defender seemingly had gone completely off the rails. Hange wondered if the threat of Marley invasion was still the scariest crisis the island would have to face. The absence of the clear answer was… unnerving.

“We don’t know what to do, or where to look for Eren. That’s why… Armin hopes that you’ll shed some light on that.”

Armin hopes – an interesting choice of words. He didn’t think, didn’t speculate, didn’t hypothesize. He hoped – exhibited a desperate, illogical kind of feeling. So… it was that bad, huh?

“I know nothing about it.” Hange said truthfully. “As you’re aware I’m not even allowed to leave this room.”

“We know.” Mikasa agreed softly, pressing her hand to Armin’s. “But it’s hard to come to terms with it.”

“He is your friend.”

Hange didn’t understand what they were going through, she never had someone that close to her destroy the trust between them, but she knew it wasn’t easy. Eren had changed, Eren had already lied to them once, but he was their friend, they’ve spent years, believing him and in him. They couldn’t change their opinion of him in just one night, they couldn’t let a few mistakes kill what they had created over the course of their lives.

She couldn’t help but wonder if that’s how her friends felt. Was it just as hard to believe in her betrayal? Did Moblit and Levi feel just as lost and unsure? Were they just as desperate to come up with a reason for her behavior? Whatever they did, whatever they felt, Hange hoped she would never have to learn about it. She was miserable enough as it was.

But Eren knew what his friends were going through, had to be aware of the consequences of his actions, of what he was doing to his friends, how much he was hurting them. What drove him to his decision then? What happened to the boy with bright eyes and big heart?

“Do you have any idea what Eren is going to do?”

“I don’t think it’s Eren’s doing, Zeke is probably lying to him, but…” his eyes were still cast down, his finger weakly tracing some vague shapes, when Armin muttered, “Hange-san… do you by any chance know what rumbling is?”

Hange froze. Her throat constricted acutely, creating a quiet, choking sound. For one second, one terrifying second her heart stopped, ceasing its usual rhythm.

Rumbling? Did she hear correctly? Was Armin speaking the truth, did he mean what Hange was worried he meant?

Rumbling.

A short, but scary word. One that was mentioned in but a few frowned upon books. One that was only whispered amongst the members of Titan Society, too horrifying to speak it loud and clear. The word that meant death, the end of everything they knew about their world.

“We were meant to experiment with it,” Armin explained, wriggling his hands. “Nothing too serious, nothing too… devastating. Just a showcase of the power we yield, to keep the other nations on their toes. To keep them away from us. But ever since Zeke had appeared, Eren became so…”

Even since Zeke had appeared, Eren had decided to act on his own, distanced himself from his comrades and friends, joined forces with his brother. Hange would have believed, would have been convinced that the boy she once knew was incapable of such cruelty…

But Liberio, the heart of her homeland was standing in ruins. And it was Eren’s doing.

She narrowed her eyes, gave a scrutinizing look first to Armin, then to Mikasa. Hange really, really hoped that she was wrong. Against all sense, she hoped that they would drive away her doubts, that Eren’s closest friends knew him much more intimately than she ever could, that their opinion of him was right and just.

“Do you think he is capable of proceeding with it?”

“No,” Armin answered.

And the same time Mikasa said, “Yes.”

Yes, said the girl, who was in love with Eren, who was devoted to him above anything or anyone else. She said yes, spoke it quietly, in pained voice. But without a shadow of a doubt.

Hange shuddered.

She— they had to stop this. Somehow. Anyhow. Before it was too late.

"Eren can't activate the rumbling on his own," Hange mused out loud, biting at her thumb.

"Right," Armin confirmed. "He needs the bearer of the royal blood."

And that was good, that meant not all hope was lost. To go through with the rumbling, Eren had to find Zeke, and Zeke was out in the woods with Levi. He would never get away from Levi, and so the world was safe, but—

Zeke wasn't the only one with special blood. There was also—

Fuck.

"Historia, where is she?"

Armin's eyes widened, a gasp escaping him as he came to the same conclusion as Hange. "She arrived in the town... This morning."

And that was the morning Eren decided to make his escape. Hardly a coincidence.

"You don't think..." Armin began tentatively, his eyes pleading Hange to say that it was a joke, that she was wrong in her assumptions. She wished she could give him that reassurance.

"I don't know."

She didn't know what Eren's plan was, what was his goal, what was Zeke’s role in all of this. She didn't know what means Eren would use to ensure his success.

Would he go to his brother, would he trust him enough? Or would he go to Historia and risk hurting his friend?

And how Eren would get to them? Both Zeke and Historia were heavily guarded - Zeke as the hostage, Historia as a Queen and a future mother. But who was the easiest target?

With Levi being in charge of Zeke, Historia was an obvious choice, unless—

Hange swallowed heavily.

Unless Zeke was planning something too - some rouse, or a play, something that would fool Levi, make him lose his focus.

Make him lose Zeke.

And if that worked—

"Where is Historia?" Hange repeated that question. Hidden in the forest, theoretically, Levi was safe. He could hold his own in a fight against Zeke, Hange has seen him do just that in Liberio, even if some part of it was a spectacle. She also had seen Zeke after Shiganshina, personally tended to his wounds that refused to heal properly because of the amount of his injuries. Back then, every hiss of his was like a melody to Hange, a miniscule payback for the carnage he had born.

Zeke was far away from Eren, guarded by Levi. Hange had to trust him with that task. She had to hold onto hope that Levi would be safe. But Historia... Historia was another matter. She was here, close, and as good as her security was, they were not on par with humanity's strongest. They had to protect the Queen first.

"Historia chose this day to arrive because of Niccolo's invitation. She's probably in his restaurant, along with the others." Mikasa said.

So she wasn't alone, surrounded by soldiers and friends. Would that be enough to hold off Eren? Possibly, although, Hange wasn't sure.

But Eren was not alone, he had followers, the ones Moblit was so worried about. Would they be just as amicable? Would they not hurt the ones Eren cared so much about?

"Historia is our main priority. We have to go to the restaurant and make sure that—"

"We?" Armin interrupted.

Hange deflated. Of course, how could she forget? She wasn't their superior, their commander, their friend. There was no we. She was an outsider. She always were.

"I didn't mean to—"

"No." Mikasa curtly said. "We need you, Hange-san. We do," she repeated to Armin, who was already opening his mouth with a protest on his tongue. "We need all the help that we can get."

Armin studied Mikasa for a moment, then turned to face Hange, regarding her pensively. The intense look of his big blue eyes was unnerving, almost impossible to hold without flinching. There was a man Hange once knew with the same intent gaze. Oh, how she wished to see him again. He'd know what to do in a shitty ordeal they were facing right now.

"You're right," Armin sighed at last. "We might not have same goals or even enemies... but our concerns align. With you on our side, our chances are much higher. So, Hange Zoe," Armin offered his hand for a handshake. "Will you help us?"

An unlikely alliance then, huh? Hange could work with that.

She shook his hand with a smile.

___

Something was turning, twisting inside Hange on the way to the restaurant. Even the air seemed stiff, the landscape outside of the carriage bright, pretty but ominous all the same. Liberio - her city - looked just as lively before it got crushed.

And today, right now, she couldn't get that image out of her mind. The streets she walked through hundreds, thousands of times; bakeries she visited day after day; parks and playgrounds she admired from afar - everything was now gone, turned into debris, into nothing but broken stone and crushed glass.

And all of it - all the destruction, pain and blood and death - all of it was a courtesy of one Eren Yeager, the boy with bright eyes and passionate soul.

Would the same thing happen to another city? To all the cities in the world? To hundreds and millions of—

Hange took a deep breath, stopping herself before she screamed in fury, ripped something apart, overturned the carriage, or worse - started crying.

No. Nothing of the sort would happen to the other countries or their people. They would stop this— this catastrophe and Eren, and Zeke, and whoever else was involved. They would not allow another tragedy.

In the meanwhile, Hange did her damnest to focus on small, trivial things - the inside of the carriage, the bumps on the road, the subtle similarities between Mikasa and Levi, the sunbeam playing across Armin's face - anything to keep her mind from other, much scarier things. It didn’t really work.

"We are here," Armin announced, cutting through her morbid thoughts. He put a hand on her elbow - a tentative, but heartfelt gesture. Hange wondered just how disturbed she must have seemed to earn it.

"Let's go," she shook off all the worries, all of her fears. They weren't needed. They would slow her down, serve as a distraction, nuisance. And today, she had to be on her best. "We have no time to spare."

Mikasa and Armin seemed to be of the same opinion, and so the three of them left the carriage and started moving towards restaurant's entrance.

The place was much bigger than Hange had imagined it to be. She expected to see something small, but snug, something homely. But Niccolo's restaurant was grander than most buildings on Paradis. It didn't quite reach the luxurious and exquisite nature of restaurants in Marley, but— clearly, that was Niccolo's inspiration.

The restaurant - as big as it was - was packed, the merry sounds of laughter were heard even from the courtyard. People were celebrating, people came here to have some fun. Hange knew just how rare those instances were. And she hated being the one to put a stop to it. But she'd rather ruin someone's day and be wrong about her assumption or ruin someone's say and be right, than— Than not ruin someone's day, be right and waste precious time.

The three of them walked through the dark brown door, and instantly Niccolo stood in front of them, appearing seemingly out of thin air.

"Armin, Mikasa! I didn't think you'd make it! And you brought Hange with you!”

The happiness on his face was so endearing, so genuine. Hange was wrecked with sympathy for him. Niccolo was just a boy, who loved a girl, and decided that today of all days he'd make his feelings known. Unfortunately, the day he had picked turned out to be one of Hange's bad ones.

"Congratulations once again," Hange made sure to put on an extra gentle smile, in vain hope that it would soothe the effect of her next words. "But that's not why we are here."

"No?" the happiness was gone from Niccolo's face, suspicion overtaking it, but only for a second. Next came anger. "I thought we were over this," he leveled, glaring at Armin. "I thought we've already discussed everything you wanted. And I'm not going to deal with this bullshit again. Not today."

Niccolo whirled around, his leg raised to, no doubt, dramatically storm out. Mikasa's gravelly voice and a tight grip on his wrist stopped him. "If you don't want to ruin this day for Sasha, then take us to Queen Historia. Right now."

Oh. Even Hange felt shivers at that tone of voice, and the threat wasn't even directed at her. Was Levi teaching her his tricks? Or was every Ackerman just naturally good at being so scary?

Niccolo yanked his hand out of Mikasa's grasp, massaging it with a wounded expression. He didn't try to argue once again, though. And soon Hange, Armin and Mikasa were following after him to the banquet hall.

He took them through the lengthy hallway, past kitchen and washing room. At the edge of it, Hange could see two familiar figures - one tall, another short. They were standing next to a wooden cupboard, snickering quietly to each other. As they came closer, Hange realized that Jean and Connie were holding several bottles of wine, clearly having trouble choosing which one to open.

"Niccolo!" Connie yelled out, waving the bottles over his head. "Which one is better?"

"That's not for you, you idiots!" Niccolo snatched the bottles from their hands, his retort vicious— and more shaken than the situation truly called for. Any other day, Hange would have found it weird, would have paid more attention to it. Any day, but not during her bad day.

So she shrugged it off and after giving Jean and Connie a painfully awkward wave, continued following after Niccolo.

Once they were inside, Hange couldn't help but marvel at the amount of people gathered. There were lots of civilians, none of which Hange could recognize. And among them, there was a sea of green, representing the members of Survey Corps. Most of these faces were known to her. One of those faces in particular swiftly left the conversation he was having, gluing himself to her side.

"Hange-san? Armin? What is going on?"

Moblit had his mouth open, his eyes shifting between the three of them. Hange didn't know what he had seen there, what face she was making, but Moblit didn't ask another question, silently falling in step with them.

Sensing the change in the room, Jean and Connie hurried to do the same.

They all stopped in front of the table in the corner - one near the window and with a nice bouquet standing on it. The table was occupied by two - giggling Sasha, who was retelling some story in a rather animated fashion, and Historia, who listened to her friend with a joyful smile.

Looking at her, Hange couldn't help but be amazed. Last time she saw the girl, she had just become a Queen, still doubtful and unsure in her position. And, although, the woman before her eyes didn't look exactly royally – what, with her simple dress and long, loose hair - but Historia had certainly grown, become tougher, more confident in her abilities. However, she was still as pretty as a picture, and the motherhood had enhanced her beauty even further.

"Your Majesty," Hange was the first to take the word, but after that she faltered, not sure how to proceed further. Should she bow? Kneel before the Queen?

She was spared from making that decision. Because right in that moment, right when she was meaning to open her mouth and explain everything to Historia as curtly as was possible— her day turned from simply bad to straight up shitty.

"You!"

Familiar voice. The anger in it wasn't unusual too. Never before it was directed at her but—

Hange recognized the pride of Marley, the future Warrior right away. It was all she was allowed to do before getting promptly tackled to the ground.

"Traitor! Liar! How could you do that to us! How could you side with the devils?"

Gabi kicked and punched anything she could reach, accentuating her every word and accusation, but the blows were barely registered by Hange. She felt no pain, only huge amount of relief.

Gabi was furious, Gabi was loud. Gabi was alive and well.

A month, a whole month she spent worrying about these kids, only to have fate throw them back together in the most ludicrous way possible.

“Gabi,” despite her kicks, despite her loud shrieks, Hange smiled happily. She pulled the girl closer, wrapping one arm around her, while her other went to softly brush the girl’s hair. “Gabi, are you alright? You’re not hurt?”

“And why would you care?” Gabi suddenly sniffled, voice muffled by Hange’s shirt. “You never cared about us, did you? Only about those devils!”

“Gabi…” Hange sighed, finding herself at a loss of words. How could she explain something so complicated? Something she couldn’t understand herself?

Luckily, an unexpected help arrived.

"Don’t judge too harshly, child. You may not understand it yet, but humans' hearts are tricky things. No rules apply to them, they never listen to reason. They don't act like we want them to. They create emotions, make our lives brighter, and at the same time... So much more confusing. And accusing someone of caring for the wrong person… it’s just not right."

Hange looked up, surprised to see a middle-aged man standing before her. She was fairly sure that she had never met him before, but his eyes, his manner of speaking... Somehow, they were familiar.

Before she could connect the dots, however, her attention was ripped away once more, this time by Niccolo's deep voice.

"Eldians, Marleyans," he scoffed. "All of us are vile, devil is in each and every one of us. We're all imperfect, but all of us yearn to find the place where we belong, where we're loved. We don't choose who these people would be, we love others for what they are, not what they represent, or what side of the conflict they come from. And if loving my enemy is treason, I’ll gladly go down as a traitor."

Niccolo glanced back, meeting the eyes of the one he had dedicated this speech to. Hange caught Sasha’s bewildered, loving look and smiled, feeling her eyes go misty.

So, Marleyan and Eldian? Was a union like that even possible? Four years ago, on the dawn of the day when she left the one she loved the most behind, she'd say that it would never work out. But... times were changing, right? For the better, or so, at least, Hange hoped.

"Hange-san..." Moblit crouched beside her, painfully awkward. "Erm..."

Oh right. Only now, Hange realized that she was still lying on the floor. And that in on itself wasn't so unusual, but most of the times... she didn't have a ten or so pairs of eyes watching her.

Hange cleared her throat. Then, as absurdity of the situation caught up with her, snickered quietly.

"Hey, Gab," she stroked the girl's side. "Would you mind letting me get up?"

Gabi rose on her elbows, considering Hange. The frown on her face didn't vanish, but— her eyes weren't so full of rage anymore - clearly, the speeches had left an impression on her.

"I'm still mad at you," she said, lip stuck out petulantly. "But... I'm glad that you're here. Because it means they're coming for us, right? Commander Magath and Reiner— Reiner will save us, right? We just need to wait for a little longer, until they arrive."

They're already here, Hange wanted to say. If Pieck came, there was no way that Reiner would want to sit that one out— or be allowed to, anyway. Marley was coming, their guns blazing. But in the room full of members of the Survey Corps and Queen herself, Hange couldn’t say that, wasn’t yet ready to betray her country like that. She could only kiss Gabi's brow and promise, "You will be alright."

Reassured, Gabi nodded and let Hange get up. As soon as her feet had touched the ground, Hange found herself with someone once again wrapped around her. This time, however, the embrace was that much warmer and a lot less violent.

"Falco," she carded her fingers through his sandy blonde hair. "I take it you've missed me too?"

"You can't imagine," he spoke, his face pressed to her stomach. "Going on missions with Gabi is a torture! I could barely keep up with her!"

"You'll learn with time," Hange looked back, exchanging a look with Moblit. "It's not that hard to deal with annoying shits like us, right, Mob?"

He tugged at his collar, strategically evading her curious eyes. "Perhaps, after a very long while..." he reached out, patting Falco's shoulder. "And with the help of a good alcohol stash."

"Oi!" Hange slapped his arm. "He's only a kid!"

Moblit shrugged. "He has to know what is waiting for him."

"Don't listen to him," she gently consoled Falco. "He's joking."

Although... Hange had to agree with Moblit on that. If Falco continues running after Gabi like that, he'd have his first grey hair by the age of fifteen.

With the boy still clinging to her, Hange surveyed the room, swiping her gaze across Sasha and Niccolo, who stood side by side, wearing identical, enamored expressions, to Connie and Jean, who were whispering something to one another, and finally to Mikasa and Armin, who hid Historia behind their backs.

Right. She didn't come here for a cheerful reunion. The fate of the world was at stake. Hange pulled herself together and— pulled Falco away from her.

"Sorry, dear," she fondly ruffled his hair once again. "I need to go now, but I'll get back to you."

Could she do, though? Could she return to these kids, ask them to be placed under her care? Should she do it, considering that she didn't even know what was going to happen to her, where would she be one hour from now? Was it wise then to drag kids along with her? They were sharp and strong, more than capable, and they did survive on their own for so long— wait.

How did they manage to survive on a foreign soil, all by themselves? And why they were here today, in Niccolo's restaurant of all places?

"I guess these ducklings are yours?"

Oh. The familiar man that Hange had never seen was back, now standing in front of Hange, showing her a kind smile.

"We haven't been introduced, but it's hard to mistake you for someone else. Hange Zoe, right?"

"Right," Hange shook his warm, calloused hand. "It's nice to meet you, Mr. Braus."

"The accent was a dead giveaway, huh?" he laughed, the corners of his eyes crinkling. He had a nice laugh, Hange decided, deep, heartfelt and genuine. She liked Mr. Braus, just as much as she liked his daughter.

"I understand that you're the one who had taken care of my ducklings," Hange giggled, catching Gabi's very much unamused look. "Thank you for that."

"And thank you for saving my daughter's life. For that deed I could never repay you."

"That was... that was nothing. I did nothing, just happened to be in the right place, in the right time."

"It's only because of you that we're here, celebrating, instead of mourning. So," he gripped her shoulder tightly, his brown eyes staring into hers intently. "Let me express my gratitude, for that is the smallest thing that I can do."

"I think," Connie inserted himself between them, his mischievous smile lighting up the room. "This calls for a toast!"

No more than a second later, Jean had produced a bottle of wine, opening it swiftly and skillfully. Once the bottle was dealt with, he filled a glass with wine, thrusting it to the person standing closest to him. Which— happened to be Gabi.

She took all but a tentative sniff from the glass, before it was roughly yanked out of her hands. The drink splashed everywhere as Falco hurried to finish it, before Gabi caught up and took it away from him.

There was just as a couple of droplets left, everyone watched the scene in amusement, until—

Until Niccolo screamed.

He pounced from his place, wrestling the bottle out of Jean’s hands. “It’s not for you, morons! I told you not to touch it!”

Ice spread through Hange’s veins, as she heard the desperation in his voice. If her first thought was the right one… she had to make sure of it immediately.

“Who that wine was meant for?” she seethed, grabbing Niccolo by lapels of his shirt, suffocating him in her white-knuckled grip and currently not caring about it. Everyone in the room tensed, Sasha jumping closer to them, but Hange didn’t care, ignored all of them completely. “Who that wine was meant for?” she shouted, shaking the boy like a ragdoll.

“F-for the military officials! It’s the good stuff, expensive, it was meant only for them!”

The good stuff, the best one they got, Hange reasoned. The next question was pointless, she knew the answer already, was the one who came up with this idea in the first place, but— Niccolo was a good guy, a sweet boy in love with a kind girl. Hange wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt.

“What’s wrong with the wine?”

And that was it. That’s all she had to do to get to the bottom of it. One short, simple question, and Niccolo crumbled. He didn’t try to fight her, made no attempts to protect himself. He hanged his head in shame, avoiding the dozen pairs of eyes that now were boring into him.

“They made me do it,” he whispered, his hands, his lips— his whole body shaking. “I had no choice, you wouldn’t understand—”

Oh, but Hange did understand. Better than Niccolo knew. She knew how it felt to be forced to follow the current, accept every cruel tide. She knew just how frustrating, how painful it was to lose control.

So yeah, Hange understood. But she could not excuse.

However, she had no place to judge as well, she herself was a reason for so many tragedies and disasters. She couldn’t judge, and she didn’t have the time for it. The deed was already done, now they had to try and undo it.

“Who gave you the orders?”

The spine fluid, injected into wine, came from Zeke, that Hange had no doubt about, but Zeke was far away, deep in the forest, under Levi’s watchful eyes. So who had redistributed the wine? Who was the betrayer, the real culprit?

“It’s—”

He didn’t get to finish. For only now Hange had realized what had happened moments prior. Falco drank the wine. Falco. Drank. The. Wine.

Her heart thumping, Hange pushed Niccolo away, grabbing Falco’s hand instead. Armin, Mikasa, the Queen, let someone else deal with that shit, for now she had to try and delay the inevitable. She looked around, her eyes wild, mind racing. “Where— where is the bathroom or— or a—”

“I’ll show you.”

It was Moblit’s quiet, reassuring voice. He gripped her elbow gently, taking her away. Hange let herself be led, rubbing soothing circles into Falco’s palm all the while. She didn’t know what do, wasn’t even sure that spinal fluid can be taken out of someone’s system, but she’d be damned if she wouldn’t at least try. Falco, sweet, smart Falco, he didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve to be turned into a Titan, a mindless creature with no loyalties and feelings. Hange wouldn’t allow it, she was ready to do the impossible and then more to save the little boy.

Once they reached the bathroom, Hange set out to work - took off her coat, rolled the sleeves of her shirt, sat Falco down on a stool, pushed his head under the faucet, instructed him to try and rinse all the wine out.

It was possibly entirely pointless, Hange was pretty sure of it— but. What else could she do? Sit tightly and wait for the young life to vanish?

"That thing in the wine..." Moblit spoke up - calmly, but defeated, as though he had already surrendered to whatever tragedy that would befall him. "It's bad, isn't it?"

Hange tensed. Hange jumped to her feet, fisting her hand into Moblit's shirt so desperately, the fabric creaked in protest.

"Moblit," she croaked, her voice shaking, broken, eyes begging him to say that he was joking, that his inquiry was simple curiosity. "Moblit, did you drink that wine?"

"It was served at every government meeting. I couldn't refuse."

No. No. Hange couldn't believe, didn't want to believe it, Moblit— not Moblit, she didn't want him to fall victim to this, become another casualty in her long, extremely bloody career. Anyone else, but not— not him.

"It's the same tactic we used in Ragako village," she explained numbly. "Back then it was gas, this time the fluid that turns people into Titans was added into wine. It activates after Zeke screams."

"Ah," Moblit shook his head, a faint smile on his lips. "If - when - I turn, you could experiment on me. Just— don't give me a stupid name like Sawney or Bean, I'd like, I think, I'd like to be called Moblit. If I'd still have some semblance of consciousness by that time, if not - you can call me whatever you—"

"Shut up." Hange choked, tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. She ignored them, glaring fiercely at him. "Shut the fuck up, Moblit, you will not turn into a Titan, I will not allow it, I'll do whatever I can—"

"Hange-san," he smiled, and it broke her heart. "It will be okay."

It won't. Because it was her damn creation, made to defeat faceless, unknown enemies. And now it was used against people she cared about.

She had to do something about it. With a start Hange realized that the solution was... fairly easy.

"Avoid Zeke at all costs." She told Moblit, urgency turning her speech more frantic. "Don't go near him, try— try to get away if he gets into city—"

But Zeke couldn't get into the city. Zeke couldn't get out of the forest at all, couldn't make a single move without Levi knowing it.

Levi was the solution. He would keep Zeke under his guard, he would keep Moblit, and the rest of them, safe. Hange finally could take a breath.

But the calm didn't last for long.

As soon as she returned to Falco's side to check on the boy's condition, a loud crash came from somewhere deep within the restaurant. Hange heard the sound of hurried footsteps, then a concerning scream.

She exchanged a look with Moblit. Both of them started running at the same moment.

When they tumbled inside the main room, they froze in shock.

Sasha's family, members of Survey Corps and among them— soldiers with rifles. Hange scanned the room once more, her eyes travelling further, to the table by the window. She breathed out in relief - Historia was guarded by Connie and Jean. At least, the Queen was safe.

But not the rest of them.

"Squad Leader Moblit," the ginger head took a step towards them, a too wide smile plastered on his face. Hange didn't like that man and his smile. And the gun in his hands. The gun that was now aimed at the ceiling but could be very well aimed at Moblit, or anyone else in that room. “You’re the one I need.”

Moblit inched closer too, his chin held high and eyes defiant. Hange didn’t miss the fact that his movement hid her behind his broad shoulders. Oh, loyal, caring Moblit. How could she leave him to his fate?

“I’m here,” he leveled to the redhead. “What do you need me for, Floch?”

If it wasn’t for the gun in his hands, or the smile on his face, the way Moblit spelled his name – the obvious aversion, unhidden contempt was enough for Hange to understand that this Floch guy wasn’t very nice. And, despite the Wings of Freedom on his back, he certainly wasn’t Moblit’s friend.

So. That was one of the famed Yeagerists? And the rest of them, the ones that held civilians on gunpoint were the part of the same group? Hange was so not impressed.

“You’re buddies with Captain Levi,” Floch continued. “That means you know exactly where he is hiding.”

“Perhaps.” Moblit nodded. “But what makes you think that I will tell you?”

Floch’s smile grew, and the gun that was held lazily in his hand, pointing at the empty air, moved. It was lowered down, its barrel now staring right at Moblit. But the gun didn’t stop there, it moved again, shifting just a little to the side. To where Hange was standing.

“Hange Zoe, right?” Floch tilted his head, so he could look straight at her. “I didn’t have the pleasure to make your acquaintance before, but I’m glad that life threw us all together. Especially now, for you see…” he lifted a hand, and a soldier took his place, his rifle raised, while Floch paced from side to side. “I’m not allowed to hurt them,” first he pointed at Jean and Connie. “Or her,” now at Historia. “I’m, however, allowed to do with the others whatever I want. And since hurting our dear Squad Leader Moblit wouldn’t bear the needed results…” he spread his arms, shrugging helplessly. “No one would miss a traitor, right?”

“Don’t you dare!” Moblit surged forward, shoulders shaking from the unbridled fury. But he made no more than a few steps, before he was immobilized, two soldiers coming from behind to grab his arms and twist them painfully. Moblit didn’t back up even then, continuing his fierce resistance. “Leave her out of this!”

“Ah, yes,” Floch chuckled to himself, observing Moblit’s struggling with morbid fascination. “The luck is surely on our side today. You will be useful after all, Hange Zoe. We will take you with us.”

No sooner than these words left his mouth, Hange felt a pair of hands around her, subduing and enabling to make a single move. She thrashed, she kicked, but to no avail.

“Floch—” Moblit grounded, pulling on his restraints.

“Don’t you worry,” Floch squeezed Moblit’s shoulder, showing him a look of feigned affection. “No one is going to get hurt, if you cooperate.”

No. They couldn’t cooperate. Cooperating meant leading Floch and his bunch to Zeke, and that meant leading them to Levi.

“Mob! Don’t listen to him! We can’t–” instinctively, momentarily forgetting about the arms that held her down, Hange reached out to him, trying to catch his eyes.

But Moblit turned his face to the other side, avoiding her gaze. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I can’t let you get hurt.”

Ah. Hange’s heart sunk, while Floch clasped his hands in delight.

“I’m glad you’ve made the right choice! And now,” he raised a finger, and Hange with Moblit were forced to move forward. “Let’s get going!”

___

Outside, the weather changed. The sun hid behind the heavy, grey clouds, the rain was now steadily falling down, creating puddles under their feet.

The gloomy weather further enhanced the trepidation inside Hange. The feeling, the certainty that something was going to get very wrong and very fast persisted, forcing her to grab the reins of the horse tighter, in vain hope of providing some miniscule outlet to her ever growing anxiety.

Despite the fear, Hange spurred her horse forward, doing her best to ignore the rifles pointed at her back. It was proving to be quite a vexing task, when the said rifles kept pushing her to move even faster but— it wasn’t the worst situation Hange had found herself in. That time when she and Zeke were captured by the enemy forces and put inside a fortified prison was so much worse. The prison had anti-Titan artillery surround the perimeter, they were alone and cut off from their allies. And still they managed to escape. Compared to that, a few Yeagerists were nothing.

Although, Hange had to admit – the stories did them no justice. In reality they were a lot more vile and disgusting.

But, apparently, Levi still trained some of them. And, boy, did he teach them well. One soldier behind Hange kept huffing, cursing the weather under his breath. Hange waited, and when he once again got distracted by the mud that splashed on his boot, she thanked Levi for his absurd obsession with cleanliness and acted, stealing that little moment for herself.

“Hey,” she leaned closer to Moblit who was riding right beside her, and whispered to him in a voice just slightly louder than the sound of the rain. “Remember that thing we did during Erwin’s coup-d'etat?”

Moblit winced, anxiety reflecting in his eyes. “When we punched people that were armed with rifles?”

Hange grinned. Atta boy, of course, he remembered. “I’ll give you a signal,” she nodded discreetly and returned to her previous position, now directing all of her attention on their fearless, redheaded leader.

“So Zeke is your main goal, right? You don’t actually need Historia?”

Floch scoffed, rising his nose up in distain. “The Queen is a back-up plan.” Wow, getting information out of them was that easy? Some devoted followers they were. Hange continued listening, eager to know what else Floch would reveal. “We’re not sure what exactly is going to happen, and Eren… doesn’t like hurting his friends.”

They weren’t sure what was going to happen. Only for these words Hange was ready to throttle each and one of them. What was going to happen? Mass destruction and death, a lot of unnecessary deaths.

But did these children care? Of course, they didn’t.

And would Zeke care about it? Hange wasn’t sure. Zeke was many things – cruel, violent, heartless, he never cared that much about other people. However, he was his father’s son, and, as much as he had loathed Grisha Yeager, Zeke still carried around the hero complex that his father fought so hard to plant inside him. Was it possible then that Zeke would be against the rumbling? Was it possible that he didn’t know of Eren’s true intention, that he blindly trusted his little brother?

Was it possible that their goals didn’t align? If so… then Zeke was a key player in this game of chess. He was a powerful figure they had to get on their side. If Hange could talk to him—

A loud sound, a crashing bang interrupted the flow of her thoughts, making her jump in the saddle.

That noise, it was similar to a thunder, but not quite. Hange knew that sound all too well, was the one who created the devise that was activated with the very same sound.

It couldn’t be— that noise couldn’t come from a thunder spear explosion. But… what other explanation was there?

“Let’s head there!” Floch commanded. “Something must have happened.”

Hange’s heart raced as they inched closer and closer to the place where the sound had come from. It wasn’t hard to find, the gory sight of the poor, wounded horse and the blasted cart was easy to spot.

They approached it slowly, and suddenly Hange froze, her eyes landing on something near the riverbank. Something that looked a lot like a body – a short one with strong stature and black hair—

“Moblit,” she whispered, begging him to clear her suspicions, to reassure her that she was mistaken.

But Moblit pursed his lips, and shook his head – brief, but resolute.

For a second, Hange froze, overcome with desperation and fear. Her heart stopped too, if just for a moment.

Levi, he couldn’t— but what if he did?

Ignoring the insistent shouts and strict orders to come back, Hange jumped off the horse, scrambling to get closer to the riverbank and to him.

She fell into the mud, uncaring of her clothes, of the mud she was splashing around. She felt nothing, the rain, the river, her captors, it all faded into background. She cared for nothing else, except the limp body in her hands.

Oh, please, please, please.

Her hands trembled as she turned the body to face her, careful as she could be. A bloody mess, her personal nightmare stared right back to her.

And in that moment— Hange felt her heart break, ripping, shuttering into thousands pieces. She thought she knew loss before, she thought she knew what pain was.

She was so wrong.

#i think it's the longest chapter of this fic for now?#so ummmmm enjoy!#levihan

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vyladromeave · 3 years

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SHADOWKNIGHT HEADCANONS MASTERPOST

This is how Shadowknights work in my brain. It just is.

(Warning this is super long. like really long. its literally like 3k+ words im not kidding. i did include a couple pictures to help break up the text though. so. good luck.)

Becoming A Shadowknight

There is only one requirement for a person to become a shadowknight: they have to die. Anyone who dies has the potential to become a shadowknight. Whether they actually become one or not depends entirely on whether they would be of use to the Shadow Lord or not.

The Shadow Lord picks new knights from many factors, such as if they were an important person when they were alive, are already skilled in combat/magick, are generally vengeful, or have unfinished business making them more willing to follow the Shadow Lord’s will of destroying the Overworld and its inhabitants. (For this reason, ghosts have become less common in the Overworld, since many souls who would normally become ghosts when they die are recruited as new Shadow Knights instead.)

Not everyone who dies is able to become a Shadowknight. The Shadow Lord, especially without a physical form, is not strong enough to reach out to all dead souls. Souls that are more vengeful/angry in death are easier for the Shadow Lord to locate, and so are souls of those that die in the Nether. There are also specific rituals that can make it easier for Shadow Lord to reach out to a specific soul, but these are uncommon since they take a lot of time and effort to do successfully. Only very valuable potential Shadowknights get this kind of treatment. (This is what happened to Laurance.)

•

Shadowknights and Immortality

All Shadowknights are immortal, as in immune to aging. They can’t die of natural causes, and because of this they can hypothetically live forever. Some Shadowknights choose to take this to the next level, becoming virtually unkillable. This next stage is referred to as becoming a “full Shadowknight,” and can only be achieved when a Shadowknight kills a specific target.

This target will be different for each Shadowknight. The only requirements of this target are that it has to be someone the Shadowknight cared about during their life, and that the Shadow Lord is the one who picks the final target. (So if you were a guard of a village, even if you cared about someone else more, your target would probably still be the lord you were protecting, since the death of a lord would cause a lot more chaos.)

A Shadowknight who has reached this next level of immortality is virtually unkillable. Their physical body can be destroyed, but they will reform in the Nether in a new, identical body if this ever happens. (Their new, reformed body will be identical to the first one that they reform as, not identical to however they currently look. So if they lost a hand as a Shadowknight, died, and reformed, they would reform with their hand back. If they lost a hand before becoming a Shadowknight, they would always reform without that hand.)

This next level of immortality is the expectation for all Shadowknights to achieve, although not many of them do. Shadowknights who do not are often looked down upon, and may have to prove themselves more rigorously than other Full Shadowknights. Shadowknights who are not Full Shadowknights are often referred to as “Premature,” “New,” or “Lesser” Shadowknights.

However, besides being unkillable, becoming a Full Shadowknight has no extra benefits. It is very possible for a “Lesser” Shadowknight to be much more skilled or powerful than a Full Shadowknight, since becoming a Full Shadowknight doesn’t actually increase your strength at all.

A Shadowknight who can reform can still be killed under very specific circumstances. If a Shadowknight’s soul is destroyed, the Shadowknight is killed permanently. This can ONLY be achieved through magical means, and even then can be difficult to achieve.

•

Shadow Souls

Even when a killable Shadowknight dies, they don’t truly leave. When you become a Shadowknight, your soul is permanently bound to the Nether. A Shadowknight whose body has died becomes doomed to roam the Nether as a Shadow Soul for all eternity.

With no body or mind left, Shadow Souls lose themselves quickly. They lose little pieces of themself until there is nothing left but a mindless, vengeful soul. Even the strongest, most collected Shadowknight would lose themself as a Shadow Soul in a matter of days. They have no desires other than wanting to be alive and have a body again.

They have the ability to possess Shadowknights, although usually only ones who are newer or weaker. Most Shadow Souls are imprisoned in the jails of the Shadow Lord’s fortress to keep them from harassing and possessing Shadowknights.

(This possession is what happened to Alexis. A lot of weird, special circumstances had to be met for her to be possessed since she wasn’t (and still isn’t) a Shadow Knight.)

Even without possession, Shadow Souls can feed off the power and emotion of Shadowknights nearby. The most effective way to deal with a Shadow Soul is to use as little magic or power as possible, since they will feed and grow stronger on the excess, and can prevent abilities from being used by feeding off the energy that would be used to activate it. The Shadow Souls that are imprisoned in the Nether’s jails stop imprisoned Shadowknights from being able to use any of their Shadowknight abilities that might help them escape.

•

Consuming a Soul

Although it is done very rarely, a Shadowknight can consume another Shadowknight’s soul. This is INCREDIBLY taboo, since it can permanently kill a Shadowknight who has the ability to reform. This fear of permanent death ensures that any knight who consumes other Shadowknight souls will be killed, or treated as an enemy/exile if they can escape with their life.

Consuming a Shadowknight’s soul can give the Shadowknight a small, temporary boost in power, both magickally and physically. The more souls they consume, the more powerful they can become, and the longer this temporary boost will last.

Most Shadowknights will fight back against being consumed. Shadow Souls are easier targets. Full Shadowknights are much harder to consume since they are much more sentient/mindful/powerful/motivated by the will to reform, and often flee instead of being consumed. Also, their body must be destroyed before their soul can be consumed, which adds an extra step to the already tiring process.

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Loss of Sentience

Some Shadowknights become nothing more than a puppet for the Shadow Lord, a creature with no thoughts or will of their own. This usually occurs immediately upon being reborn as a Shadowknight due to the trauma of the event, but can also occur over time in Shadowknights who have lost a sense of self or sense of purpose.

Some think that this happens because the soul of the Shadowknight tries to die or move on, but is unable to do so because of how it is bound to the Nether/the Shadowknight’s body. As a result, the knight is left with nothing but a mindless husk of their former self. Ultimately, there is no definite answer as to why this happens, although this is the most popular theory among Shadowknights.

Shadowknights who have lost their sentience can never regain it, presumably because parts of them have already passed on and do not wish to/are not able to return. A Shadowknight without their sentience has eyes that are permanently cloudy-looking and less reflective (like how eyes cloud over on death).

•

A Reformed Body

When a person dies and becomes a Shadowknight, the new body they reform into is not the actual body they died in. The grave of a person who became a Shadowknight would still have a body in it. The body they reform into is a near perfect replica of the one that died, but it doesn’t “feel” the same.

The only exception to this rule is if the Shadowknight died as a child, and their body wasn’t already fully grown. All Shadowknights have fully-grown bodies, regardless of what age they died as. This is simply because a fully-grown body is stronger and more fit to serve as a knight. This can be very disturbing to Shadowknights who died younger, since they have to adapt to a body that they can only vaguely identify as their own. (This is what happened to Vylad.)

•

A Sturdier Body

The body of a Shadowknight is different from the body of a human. All Shadowknights are naturally stronger, fastier, hardier, and heal quicker than the average human. They are literally made for the sole intention of being mass-killing soldiers, so it only makes sense that their new bodies reflect that.

When they heal, no scars are left behind. The only scars a Shadowknight will have are ones they obtained previously, before or on death. The only exceptions to this rule are if they lose a limb/eye/etc. If the Shadowknight is able to reform when they die, then their lost limb/eye/etc. will be back when they reform.

Any scars associated with the Shadowknight’s death might be a bit more prominent than a normal scar. They usually look bright red and angry, almost closer to an open wound.

All Shadowknights are completely immune to fire and heat. They can still feel fire and heat, but it doesn’t harm them. It can be a bit overwhelming to get used to at first, but most Shadowknights have to learn to grow used to it, since the Nether is like, 60% fire and lava. (Shadowknights actually take baths in lava in the Nether to stay clean, since there is no water.) (Also, technically they aren’t immune to fire on the INSIDE. If they like, ate fire, it would hurt pretty bad. Probably not as bad as it would hurt a normal human, but it would still hurt.)

Shadowknights don’t require the same things as humans do to live. A Shadowknight can survive without food, water, or sleep, and can go without these things longer before feeling any negative effects. However, a lack of these things can definitely make them weaker, and more miserable. Seeing as water cannot exist in the Nether, and nothing else naturally lives there, the lack of food and water is pretty agonizing for any Shadowknights stuck there.

Shadowknights aren’t completely exempt from natural human needs. They still need to breathe air, and they still need to keep their blood inside of them.

•

Natural Abilities

When a person becomes a Shadowknight, they gain new abilities. All Shadowknights have the ability to summon Shadow Armor. This armor is an integral part of a Shadowknight, and the form it takes is unique (but similar) for each knight. It’s a bit like porcupine spikes or pufferfish in that many Shadowknights will summon it instinctively when they believe they are in danger. It also summons instinctively while in the Nether. It’s fairly sturdy, but is better at protecting against physical attacks than magickal ones. Destroying the armor won’t hurt a knight, but it can tire them. Armor that is destroyed/damaged can be resummoned, but it takes a bit of time to fix.

All Shadowknights also have the ability to summon a Shadow Weapon. Shadowknights can only form weapons that they are familiar with. They can only form tools that would be used in combat, and can only summon one at a time. (You can’t have your bow and arrows AND a sword AND a shield all summoned at once. Shadow WEAPON. Singular. No plural. Pick One.) They can also change the form of the weapon in between summonings, and in combat. Quickly switching between weapons can take some practice to perfect/get used to. Similarly to the armor, destroying the weapon won’t hurt a knight. It also won’t tire them, since a Shadow Weapon isn’t as much of a “part” of a knight as the armor is. A destroyed/damaged Shadow Weapon can be resummoned, but it takes a bit of time to fix.

All Shadowknights have the ability to sense other Shadowknights by their aura, tell if the Shadowknight is fully immortal or not, and suppress their own Shadowknight aura from being detected/identified. This ability has to be practiced in order to become effective. A knight who neglects this ability may only be able to sense large groups, or only sense a knight that is extremely close by. They also might not be able to suppress their own aura at all. A knight who practices this ability can sense another knight from, at a maximum, 350-ish feet away. They could potentially identify a specific Shadowknight from their aura (and this becomes easier if they have spent a lot of time around this Shadowknight before.) They could also potentially suppress their own aura for hours at a time, with only a little effort. These are extremes, and most Shadowknights don’t perfect these abilities to this extent.

•

Additional Abilities

Some Shadowknights gain new abilities in addition to the ones all Shadowknights gain by default. Oddly enough, Shadowknights who already have a preexisting magickal/witchcraft affinity are less likely to receive one of these abilities. Most gain only one from the following list, but very rarely can gain two. From most to least common, the list is as follows:

•Dimming lights - They can blend in easier into shadows by dimming the light around them. They can also dim or put out lights, or make any light less bright for a short amount of time. (This obviously doesn’t work on stuff like The Sun, but I do think that if you got really good at using this ability, you could maybe make the moon appear dark or the stars disappear for a bit. They wouldn’t ACTUALLY stop shining, it would just appear that they did, if that makes sense?) (Sasha is a notable Shadowknight with this ability.)

•Teleportation - They can only teleport to places they know exist, and they can’t teleport between dimensions. The further the location, and the more people they are teleporting, the more energy, effort, and concentration it takes. Most Shadowknights who can teleport aren’t able to do so while in the middle of combat because it takes too much concentration to do so. Hard to teleport while you are also trying not to get stabbed. Who would guess. (Vylad is a notable Shadowknight with this ability.)

•Shapeshifting - They can change their own appearance into another. If you get really good at using this ability, you could look like someone else entirely. However, normally this ability is just useful for changing clothes/hair color/disguises. Maintaining a shapeshift also takes focus/concentration, and normally can’t be maintained for very long periods of time depending on the complexity of the shapeshift. If you just changed your clothes, you could maintain it for a couple hours. If you look like another person entirely, probably 1-2 hours max. A shapeshift is also hard to maintain in battle for the same reason as teleportation. (Zenix is a notable Shadowknight with this ability.)

•Shadow Manipulation - They can create solid forms out of shadow, and manipulate these forms as they see fit. This is probably the most difficult ability to use, and also the most difficult to master. The larger/more complex this manipulation is, the harder it is to maintain. This ability is different from the Shadow Weapon in that it can’t really be sharp, and can’t form extremely defined/specific shapes. Shadow manipulation lends itself much better to blobs. (Gene is a notable Shadowknight with this ability.)

•

Overwhelming Emotions

Shadowknight’s abilities strengthen when powered by emotion. For any Shadowknights who don’t care about the danger and destruction they cause, this is only a plus. For the rest, it is a curse. The link between emotion and power can be extremely overwhelming, making it much easier to get worked up and much harder to calm down. Death and destruction is a part of a Shadowknight’s nature, making these fits dangerous for anyone who dares to get in the Shadowknight’s way.

Because of this, there are two paths that a Shadowknight must choose between. Either they make the effort to suppress your emotions, cut off friendships, family, and other bonds. Or, they let their emotions control them entirely, weaponizing their existence and becoming a tool of pure chaos. Neither choice is very appealing.

•

Seeing Red

One of the most iconic and identifiable features of a Shadowknight is the eyes. Whenever using any of their abilities, wearing summoned Shadow Armor, or even feeling an emotion that is too strong, a Shadowknight’s eyes will glow red. Depending on the strength of their emotion or intensity of their action, this red can spread from their eyes to the skin around it.

•

The Nether

The Nether is the home of all Shadowknights, although not by choice. The Nether was never meant to be inhabited by anyone, which is clear from the lack of food, water, and habitable land present there. However, since the Shadow Lord is trapped in the Nether and not strong enough to leave, the Shadowknights he creates are bound to the Nether in strange ways. Shadowknights feel a natural draw to return to the Nether whenever they are away, and in extreme cases can even feel ill if they are gone for long periods of time. This urge is called The Calling. With time and practice, this urge can be suppressed, though it never completely fades.

On the other hand, Shadowknights are somewhat stronger in the Nether, both magickally and physically. Fighting a Shadowknight on home turf is generally a bad idea, and it’s best to fight them in the Overworld instead.

•

Lost and Altered Memories

Although it isn’t inherently a part of becoming a Shadowknight, many knights find themselves without their memories from when they were alive, or unknowingly have had parts of their memories changed. This has become much more common among more recent Shadowknights. (Vylad and Zenix are some of the last notable Shadowknights to not have their memories altered.) This is largely because of Gene, the Shadow Lord’s most trusted knight. His magicks let him manipulate the memories of others, and the Shadow Lord encourages him to use his abilities to create a more willing army. Many knights who might’ve originally questioned the Shadow Lord and his goals have their memories altered so that they are more willing to follow the Shadow Lord, and kill in his name. (Sasha is a notable Shadowknight who this applies to.)

•

Thank you for reading!

Feel free to use any of these ideas in your own MCD fan-content, and if you have anything you would like to ask about/clarify, feel free to send me an ask or message!

#Minecraft Diaries #aphmau fanart #shadowknight #shadow knight #aphmau #Shad the destroyer #mcd #shadow lord #shadow soul #mcd meta #wrote like 90% on various nights at 2 am so if something makes literally no sense please let me know so i can fix it #injury tw #scar tw #body horror tw #<for the shadow souls bcs those things are terrifying. let me know if anything else should b tagged #long post #aikidoart

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softyoongiionly · 4 years

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Portraits of a Tiger || 04

Legends of a great and equally terrifying warrior nicknamed the Tiger have been emerging from your fellow villagers for quite sometime. Stories of his skill, his stealth and his supposed wickedness have been passed around to the point where he is more prophecy than person. You have lived your life with a strong sense of conviction, rarely letting gossip influence your opinion. However, you would be lying if you said that his legacy didn’t intrigue you. When the Tiger and his infamous army arrive in your village to refuel, you come face to face with the man behind the myth.

And no amount of marketplace gossip would ever be enough to capture the true complexity of his nature.

Pairing: Merchant! Reader x Warrior! Yoongi

Genre: Adventure, Romance, Smut (later), Fluff, Angst

Word Count: 8k

Warnings: language, depictions of violence both verbal and physical however they are fairly mild, mentions of war and power dynamics, there will be smut in future parts so, (18+ only please).

A/N: ahhh yes romance is in the air lads. I hope you like this new part!!! I’m having so much fun writing this series for you guys :) LOVE YOUUUUU

As always, a HUGE shoutout to my beautiful friend Rachel @bulletproofbirdy for her assistance with this fic. I love you sm and I hope you especially like what I’ve done with the place >:)

It’s been a few days.

Nothing of substance has happened since the night you kissed Yoongi by the river other than a clear shift in your relationship with him.

He doesn’t treat you differently in front of the patrons at the market nor does he spare more than a glance your way when you’re delivering bread.

But every night, without fail: you meet by the river.

You speak about things that seem too heavy for the daylight: war, peace, hope, loss...

He listens to your thoughts and offers many of his own but the night always ends with his lips on yours.

His hands moving across your body as if he’s trying to learn every inch of you.

Whilst you’d happily have him against a tree or down on the mushy floor of the riverbed, Yoongi always stops things before they go to far.

He whispers promises of a night without boundaries in a place you both can call your own.

He tells you that when the time is right, he will give you everything you deserve and more.

You agree with him despite the desire that rages in your body.

You know it’s best to wait until things are more concrete between the two of you.

So you part ways every time and spend the rest of the night longing for one another until sleep finally offers you momentary peace.

Until the dreams begin...

Today however, you are concerned with someone else’s dreams.

Namely, your dear friend, your original confident, the smartest gal in the world: Rachel.

After your first rendezvous with Yoongi, you had rushed over to her home and spent the better half of the night gushing about the kiss.

Of course, she had been over the moon for you and the two of you had jumped around her living room like a bunch of excited schoolgirls.

However, towards the end of the conversation, particularly when Jungkook’s name was brought up she had grown slightly somber.

Although their interaction had been brief, the chemistry was palpable and as much you had faith in your friend’s abilities, you didn’t foresee her making a move on him.

So- you have decided to take matters into your own hands.

With a basket full of fresh bread, you walk down the dirt path towards their camp to begin the initial phase of your plan.

It was unlike the members to be absent from the fields surrounding their tents but, you presume it’s because training had concluded for the day.

You expected to see Namjoon out on their bench cribbling in his journal but, there is no one to be found.

There is a bit of anxiety that comes over you as thoughts creep in of the day that this area truly is abandoned.

The day Yoongi and his battalion move on.

Deep in your gut, dread begins to grow but you force yourself to take a deep breath and focus on the objective at hand.

You tug the bell to signal your arrival expecting Seokjin’s boisterous presence to greet you but, instead you hear a bit of shuffling before a hand slips out between the cloth to tug open the entrance.

Immediately, your heart ignites in a fit within your chest at the sight before you.

Yoongi stands there, body completely rid of his normal attire, with only a pair of tight-fitting long johns adorning his figure.

His hair is out of his usual updo and pushed away from his face, long platinum tendrils cascading down his strong chest.

“Oh- hi...” You cough as the tone of your voice is audibly strained.

He smirks, his eyes lighting up as he sees you, “Good evening. Delivery?”

A jagged nod comes from you as you extend the basket towards him, “Yes. Here you go, I added some-”

Yoongi’s lips are on yours then, interrupting your sentence, one of his hands taking the basket whilst his other hand settles on your cheek.

As usual, his lips eliminate any thought in your head unrelated to him, your body going slightly limp beneath his touch.

He lingers for a moment before pulling away, his brown eyes sparkling with satisfaction.

“This color is beautiful on you.” He murmurs nodding to your dress and pecking your lips once more, “did you make this?”

You smile, licking the taste of him off your lips, “Thank you. My mom made it for me last spring.”

He grins, “She’s very talented.” He lifts the basket, “This is a wonderful thing to wake up to, my men are going to destroy it.”

You giggle, raising your brows, “Late night?”

“Very. We were out until sunrise.” He explains, “Much of our training is nocturnal and the forests around here allowed us to teach the new recruits some important skills; we all slept a little later than I anticipated...” He chuckles sheepishly, glancing behind him before his eyes fall upon you once more, “It’s nice seeing you in the daylight.”

You giggle, “Is it? That’s a relief, I feared that maybe the moonlight and the beauty of the river was what kept you coming back every night...”

Yoongi’s lips twitch as he adjusts the basket on his arm, “I think you know very well what keeps me coming back.”

Before you can offer another flirtatious quip, a ball of fluffy black hair shoves its way through the opening of the tent.

It’s Jungkook and he looks as though he hasn’t been awake for more than 30 seconds.

“Hyung- is the bread...” He mumbles sleepily before his eyes widen as they spot you, “Oh- I’m sorry...” He bows his head, “I didn’t mean to interrupt. Good uh...” He squints up at the sky, his lips pouted slightly, “Good evening Y/N.”

You bow your head, offering a smile, “Good evening. You didn’t interrupt at all, I was actually looking to speak with you when you have time. I know you’ve just woken up so, I can come back later...”

Jungkook’s cheeks heat up involuntarily as he steps behind Yoongi a little more, “Alone?”

Yoongi eyes you curiously, “What do you want with the boy?”

He chuckles at his younger brother who looks both intrigued and frightened all at once.

“We don't have to be alone.” You assure him, a bit of laughter leaving your lips, “It’s about my friend-”

“Rachel?” He assumes, wide-eyed, “Is she ok?”

You smirk knowingly, “She is. I was actually going to inquire whether or not you were interested in her but, I think I have my answer.”

“Ah- “ Yoongi interjects, looking at you pointedly, “You’re here to play matchmaker for my little brother?” He looks amused, his deep gaze boring into your own as he speaks again, “Don’t you have your hands full with another endeavor?”

The depth in his tone sends a bit of electricity up your spine and, you’re thankful that Jungkook doesn’t pick up on the bit of suggestion in his voice.

He’s hung up on your reply and aching to know more.

So timidly he says, “Is she- maybe...interested in me?”

Averting your gaze away from Yoongi, you nod towards Jungkook, “I have a feeling she’s more than interested. However, she is incredibly stubborn and refuses to acknowledge the way you look at her. So naturally-” You gesture to yourself fluidly, “I decided to come here and ask you myself.”

“Naturally.” Yoongi agrees, his lips twitching, “Well, I don’t want to intrude on your plan so-”

As he tries to retreat back into the tent, you stop him with a raised hand, “Actually. I need your help after I speak with Jungkook so, don’t go far.”

Yoongi chuckles, shaking his head, “You’re aware that I oversee a battalion of 20,000 men, correct?”

With a shrug, you gesture for Jungkook to come closer before throwing an incredulous look Yoongi’s way, “Romance waits for no one...”

“Neither does war.” He retorts with a smirk.

"In the midst of chaos, there is also opportunity.” You remind him, quoting a famous war strategist, “It won’t take long anyhow, plenty of time to return to your post, General.”

Jungkook, who has been zoning out for the last minute or so raises his brows at your tone, his lips parting in curiosity and glancing towards Yoongi.

He doesn’t hear people quarrel with Yoongi often, even if they are joking so, hearing you speak so candidly to him causes him to wonder just how close the two of you have gotten.

If Yoongi is impressed by your knowledge, he doesn’t show it. But what he does do is raise his brows whilst his teeth secure themselves to his bottom lip.

“Make it quick.” He insists sharply despite the excitement dancing through his gaze.

Before you have the opportunity to respond, he disappears behind the curtain, leaving you alone with Jungkook.

“Hyung must really like you...” He observes softly, pursing his lips, “He isn’t the type to joke around with new people.”

Stifling a smirk, you shrug and gesture to the bench in front of their tent, “That’s a shame. Your hyung has quite the sense of humor. Now- I know you don’t have a lot of time, so I’ll make this quick.” You begin as the two of you sit, “Normally I’d like to approach a situation like this with a bit more class but to be frank, you won’t be in town long and after the way I saw you looking at Rachel, I don’t think you’ll mind my intervention.”

Jungkook blushes, his fingers coming up to tuck a piece of hair behind his ear, “Ke-Keep your voice down, I don’t want my hyungs to hear about this...” He pleads, “They’ll tease me relentlessly.”

You allow yourself the grin now, admiring how shy he is but you concede not wanting to embarrass him.

“Do you not want them to know you’re courting someone?”

He shakes his head, “No I just don’t want them to know until I speak with her first. I know you say she’s interested but- I'd still like to hear it from her. My hyungs will pester me about it constantly and if she ends up rejecting me, I don’t really want to be reminded about it.”

“I understand.” You concede, “I don’t think you have anything to worry about. I’m sure I’ve never seen her behave this way around a man before. It’s unlikely she will reject you...”

“Still-” He insists, the color on his cheeks deepening, “it's possible. I never assume people’s opinions of me.”

It’s very odd, you think, here is this fine specimen before you: handsome, experienced, talented, respected and yet- he doesn’t seem to see himself that way.

Sounds a lot like someone else you know...

“That’s probably best.” You smile, warming up to him rather quickly, “You are interested in her though, aren’t you?”

He bites his bottom lip in thought before nodding, a bit of shyness in his eyes, “I am yes. Though I’m not totally sure how you figured it out based on our limited interaction. I’ve only spoken to her once- and I made a fool of myself.”

You giggle, “Yes but, you saw her for the first time in the plaza, didn’t you? She stopped you right in your tracks.”

His toffee orbs widen, “How did you-?"

A smirk comes over your mouth as you once again shrug at his question, “My job requires me to be very observant.” You reply, “People often say more with their movements than their words.”

“Hey!” He grins, showing off his perfect teeth, “I think that too! Well- that's something Yoongi-hyung taught me. I’m trying to get better at it but, I find it harder to observe people I don’t know. Strangers make me nervous...”

His sudden warmth makes you happy as you didn’t really expect him to be this bubbly but, you’re happy he’s comfortable with you given your intentions behind this conversation.

If he’s courting your friend, he’s courting you too.

“You could have fooled me.” You retort, “I saw the way you handled the clan leader...when I came by your tent, I was anticipating on meeting someone very different.”

Jungkook chuckles, “I get that a lot. I rarely live up to people’s expectations of me- I think that’s one of my strong suits. Aside from my brute strength obviously.”

“Yes of course, we mustn't forget about that...” You concede, laughing lightly along with him, “So back to Rachel then- you plan on courting her yes?”

He shifts on the bench, his tan fingers coming up to adjust his peasant blouse, shyness returning to his features, “I would love to. She-” He pauses, looking away from you, his eyes deepening in thought, “Aish...she really is something isn't she?”

At his question, you smirk and allow warmth to fill your chest, “Now where have I heard that before.” You muse allowed, “I could facilitate a meeting between the two of you? Although- I will likely have to tell a teensy white lie because, if I warn her that you wish to meet with her- she would probably combust on the spot. Also, I doubt she would believe me...”

He smirks fondly, nibbling on the inside of his cheek before his brows furrow, “Why wouldn’t she believe you? She must know how desirable she is right?”

“Certainly not. She has no idea. Which is why I finally decided to take matters into my own hands.” You explain, propping your chin on the palm of your hand, “Rachel is a brilliant woman. She could easily run a small country if the opportunity was presented to her but, she has no concept of how wonderful she is.”

Jungkook pouts his lips, “I was certain she knew. How could someone that beautiful not understand their own beauty?”

You raise your brows, “Do you recognize yourself as desirable?”

He snickers, “Don’t be silly. I might be a suitable partner because of my status as a warrior but, I don’t think there is much else I have to offer. That’s what has me so worried...what if you’re wrong about her desire for me?”

With an incredulous look, you shake your head in disbelief, “The two of you amaze me. You’re so brilliant and yet- so foolish at the same time. I assure you; you have plenty to offer. The women in this village nearly faint every time you pass- quite frankly, you are incredibly handsome with an unusual amount of talent and-”

Jungkook is smirking, pleased with your response as he interrupts you, “I thought you were interested in my hyung Y/N-” He teases and snickers as you roll your eyes.

“That is neither here nor there.” You insist, “The point is, the courtship is worth pursuing because I believe it will go well. So I came here to suggest a plan...”

“What is your plan dear matchmaker?” He chuckles, folding his hands and resting them on the table.

“My plannnn is-” You draw out the word before leaning in closely and divulging your ideas.

You are elated when he agrees and feel slightly giddy at the thought of your dear friend meeting up with the potential love of her life.

Romance certainly is in the air.

The plan is set in motion after a few more moments of talking and the conversation ends with Jungkook eagerly rushing back to his tent to prepare.

Feeling satisfied with your healthy dose of meddling, you brush your dress off and start towards the exit of the camp.

However, the deep voice of your suitor stops you in your tracks, sending butterflies directly into your stomach.

“Leaving without a goodbye?” Yoongi calls softly, departing from his tent.

You turn with a smile on your face to see him fully dressed in his training attire: fitted black pants and a matching tunic, his sword strapped faithfully to his hip.

“I figured I caused enough havoc amongst your battalion today. Besides, I wasn’t sure if you’d be dressed and I didn’t want to disturb you.” You explain, your hands sliding down to play with the fabric of your dress.

“If havoc is putting a ridiculous smile on my brothers face than please feel free to wreak havoc anytime you wish. I have dreaded the day where I’d have to convince him to go after his potential partner and you’ve gone and lifted that responsibility from me.” He explains, stepping towards you a bit more “He says his meeting with her tomorrow evening?”

“If all goes well.” You reply, your face heating up in light of his presence, “My plans usually play out successfully.”

“I have no doubts about that.” He chuckles, his feline gaze glancing behind you momentarily before returning back to your face, “Will I be seeing you tonight?”

Pretending to toy with the idea, you narrow your eyes and place a finger on your chin, “I suppose its possible, if you aren’t too busy with your duties here...”

“My duties?” He places a hand on his chest, stepping closer to you once again, “If anyone were to be tied up with their duties, I imagine it would be you. Being a full-time apothecary is enough but, now you’ve gone and taken up matchmaking as well.” Yoongi’s eyes glint as he stares at you, “You never have to concern yourself with whether or not I’ll have time for you...”

You resist the urge to throw yourself at him, frustrated by the effect he has on you.

“Then I suppose you will see me then.”

He grins, “Good.”

For a few seconds, the two of you stew in silence before the need to kiss him becomes too much to bear and you take the steps necessary to wrap your arms behind his neck and place your lips against him.

You can hear his sharp intake of breath as you do, his hands securing themselves at the base of your back.

The movements of the kiss escalate quickly, and you find yourself forgetting that you’re stood in the middle of a military camp, where anyone could walk out and see you both canoodling in the courtyard.

Yoongi seems to realize this too as he pulls away with heavy breath and hesitation all over his face.

“My my my...” He murmurs, shaking his head, “You really have no regard for my well-being do you?”

His light scolding causes you to giggle which in turn breaks the disapproving expression on his face.

��I’m trying to improve your well-being actually.” You insist, your fingers toying with the tendrils of hair at the back of his head, a dreamy smile on your mouth.

He raises his brows, “Oh? How do you figure that?”

Before you can reply, the rustling coming from behind Yoongi pulls you out of your conversation.

The rest of his battalion have seemingly woken up and are beginning to flock to the courtyard in preparation for their training.

Glancing behind him, Yoongi sighs before turning back to you reluctantly, “Tonight?”

You offer him a smile and step back out of his grip, “Tonight.”

He takes your hand and brings it to his lips, placing a kiss on the back of it before heading off to his men.

Tonight now seemed a century away despite the fact that the sun was already heading off towards the horizon.

-The next day-

Your night with Yoongi followed the similar structure that it usually does.

Deeping meaningful conversation, playful banter, difficult questions and well, a healthy dose of unresolved lust.

He asserts the end to your displays of affection every time, offering the same words of comfort.

You’re fine with this of course.

You’d never want him to do anything he didn’t want to do, and you’d certainly want the first time you were intimate to be special.

However, you’d be lying if you said you weren’t feeling dejected.

It’s not because Yoongi says it’s not the right time or that he doesn’t think the two of you were ready.

You respect him and his choices completely and would never attempt to coerce him beyond his initial responses but...

You are beginning to feel alone in your desire for him.

For you, there has never been another to ignite such a powerful response within you.

You’ve never wanted anyone so badly.

It makes you feel insane and yet, here he is, so calm in his demeanor and easily able to refuse any opportunity to sate your hunger for one another.

It’s very silly, you think, he is clearly interested in you.

He makes that very obvious.

And yet, you can’t help but feel confusion.

He wouldn’t be in your village for much longer and soon enough you’d have to say goodbye for a length of time you’d rather not assign numerical value you to.

You wish you understood his intentions more and at the same time, you wish you were able to quell your desire for him.

You did feel alone in that way.

Yoongi was an incredible, multi-faceted man with seemingly thousands of years’ worth of knowledge behind his eyes. He was open and yet so secretive all at once and because of that, you couldn’t understand why he behaved this way.

The two of you would intentionally rile each other up only for him to put a stop to things every time.

But it’s almost as if this was part of his plans with you all along.

And you just couldn’t understand why.

So naturally, you end up running to the person who always keeps you grounded for advice: Rachel.

Although, after your conversation with Jungkook yesterday, you have multiple reasons for paying your friend a visit.

“He stopped things again before they went too far and-“ You sigh, looking down at her hands that secure a warm mug of tea, “I feel a little strange about it. I’m starting to feel like maybe he doesn’t desire me the way I desire him...”

Rachel is sat across from you on her sofa as she usually is, her legs tucked up on the cushion.

She takes a sip of her tea before her brows furrow in disagreement as she shakes her head, “I sincerely doubt that. He was very, um...excited wasn’t he?”

He was, you think, and he usually is but that only adds to your confusion.

“I don’t know...” You groan, “...he says he is but- he keeps saying it’s not the right time. I’m worried I may be too lustful towards him; I’m wondering if it’s off putting.”

“He does not seem the type to play games. If he says it’s not the right time...he must have a right time in mind?” She suggests before looking at you pointedly, “And I don’t believe you are being lustful. Even if you were, what’s wrong with that”

Nothing.

Nothing is wrong with being lustful as long as you are being respectful which you can honestly say you are but, the insecurity you’re feeling is contributing to a bit of shame within you.

“I’ve never wanted anyone this way, I feel like I’m going mad. He seems so calm and collected and yet- here I am, flustered and confused. I’m used to having a handle on my emotions I guess and I wish I knew how he was able to keep himself so composed.” You ponder the end of her question, “There is nothing wrong with being lustful. I just don’t know if he feels the same if it’s so easy for him to control himself around me...”

Rachel nods along, her bright eyes listening intently before she pauses to think, “You know, you have to remember he is a ten-year veteran and the leader of the most elite military force in our country. He has so much control and discipline applied to himself in all areas, I can’t imagine he would be able to easily relinquish that control. Especially with someone he has so much affection for. I am certain it is not easy, merely well-practiced”

She has a point but then again, she usually does.

You bite your lip, turning your attention to the fabric of the chair, picking at it, “You’re right. I suppose I’m being a little immature about this...I should just be more patient.”

It’s decided in your mind that you should move on to the other reason you came to visit her this evening: a deceitful conversation with a much happier ending.

“By the way, what are you doing this evening?”

She’s stood up now and striding over to the kitchen, rubbing your arm as she passes you, “You are not immature at all! I’m confident your general is worth the patience.” She assures you with a wink before she thinks to herself once again, “I don’t have anything in particular planned, why do you ask?”

You giggle at her wink and follow her with your eyes as she heads over to make herself another cup of tea, “I have a favor to ask you- that goes beyond our mutual agreement to keep each other sane.”

Rachel snickers and shakes her head, “I don’t know if there is much hope for our sanity but what do you need?”

You smile but it doesn’t totally reach your eyes, your mind annoyingly still occupied elsewhere, “You make a good point.” You concede before brightening your expression intentionally, “I had a customer today that inquired about the type of material the village school covers for children ages 3-5. They are considering enrolling their child this year and wanted to speak with a teacher. I was hoping you would be able to meet with them? I told them to stop by the school and speak with someone but I was hoping that someone could be you because you’re so experienced.”

Rachel brightens at the mention of a new student “Oh really? I would be happy to meet with them! At that it’s primarily playing games, reading stories and singing songs but I have a lovely little bunch of students that age already!” She cheers, clapping in front of her chest, excitedly.

Her joy is infectious, and you can’t help but grin despite your knowledge that she would certainly not be receiving a new student; you almost wish that she was though.

“Great! Well they should be around right before sundown. I gave them your classroom number and a bit of background on you and the school.”

“Oh my goodness! That’s not far off...well I have to bring in the dried flowers for tomorrow’s art lesson anyway...oh and where did I put the new wax pencils. Did you see where I put them?” Rachel abandons her cup of tea on the counter and begins puttering around in the baskets on her kitchen table, completely distracted.

You spot what she’s looking for and hold up set of pencils setting on the end table, “They’re right here..” You call, turning in the chair to hand them to her, “I would wear that blue dress of yours too, it’s very complimentary.” With this suggestion, you can’t help the glint in your eyes that shines through the bit of sadness still present there, “Well- thank you for your words of wisdom. I’m probably going to take a break from the river tonight, so I’ll be home if you need me for anything. I have no doubt that tonight will go wonderfully though...”

“Oh there they are!” She chirps, taking them from you before looking down at her current outfit, “I suppose I should change, I certainly look a bit of a mess...” She pauses then to look you, noticing the glimpse of sadness in your eyes. “Don’t hold yourself back from love, Y/N. Your general is certainly just as passionate about you. I would bet all the gold in the kingdom on it!”

The excitement and certainty in her tone is almost enough to pull you out of your funk but, the stubborn naysayer in your head has different plans.

“No you don’t, you look wonderful! I just love the blue one on you.” You insist, before crossing your arms and slumping back against the chair, “I am not holding back, I’m just- trying to be reasonable I suppose. His passion is clearly controlled, and I guess I should work on controlling mine as well...” You explain matter of factly with a pout on your lips.

Rachel matches your pose as she steps around the chair to look directly at you, unconvinced, “Mmhmm. Perfectly reasonable.” She drawls sarcastically before chuckling when you attempt to kick your foot at her.

“I am!” You assert, trying to hold back a smile, “I’m just some silly little girl fawning over the man of my dreams while he gets to CALMLY walk away like us canoodling against a tree doesn’t affect him- and I feel foolish for desiring him so much when he’s able to do so.”

Rachel lets out a cackle your display of frustration. “You are NOT a silly little girl. A silly grown woman? Maybe," She giggles, “but I am CERTAIN he wouldn’t have to address this “right time” so often if he didn’t desire you. Do what makes you feel powerful! But don’t play games with the poor Tiger’s heart needlessly...from what you have said he is a much gentler man than we’ve given him credit for. “Though,” She tilts her head, her hand coming up to fuss with her hair, “you certainly shouldn’t seek advice from me. I spent the day with paste in my hair without realizing.”

Your pout deepens, “I would never play with his heart... I’m going insane with desire over here and he gets to be all collected like ‘when the right time comes- I promise you it will be worth the wait’ and oh look at me, I’m extremely handsome and I can just kiss passionately for minutes on end without going further...” You grumble haphazardly before you hesitate slightly, “Well I’m not sure what him being handsome has to do with it but you get my point.” A smile threatens your features even more when she mentions her hair, “Paste is all the rage darling, you are simply fashion forward. Besides- I have a feeling this uh- new student of yours will look out for you.”

Rachel hugs herself as she laughs at your little outburst, “It has EVERYTHING to do with it! You know it does-” She accuses playfully, “I do get your point though. I’m certain you will meet again...and say what’s on your mind! You are much better at that than I am anyway.” Rachel’s face is full of hesitation then, shaking her head, “Most of my students “look out for me” by piling dandelions on my desk and leaving goopy handprints on my clothes...I hope this new student is sweet.”

A smirk plays on your lips then, dropping your other topic of conversation, “I’m sure they will be, their parents seemed nice enough...”

”Oh really?!? Do you know anything about them? Should I bring anything along? Are you sure they want to see me? Should I get going?!” She babbles excitedly, glancing towards her front door.

Her eagerness serves as your cue to head out, your stomach brewing with hunger, nerves and excitement.

You couldn’t wait to hear how tonight will go for her.

“It is almost sundown so I suppose I should get going...” You concedes with a sigh before offering her a genuine smile, patting her shoulder as you head towards the door, “Just bring your lovely self, they are very eager to meet you.”

“Okay, if you’re certain!” Rachel smiles, gathering a collection of dried flowers into a basket before heading for the door with you, “If you change your mind and go to the river after all YOU HAD BETTER TELL ME!”

“You look amazing-” You promise as you step past her through the doorway, “I have a feeling you’ll have more to tell me the next time we meet but I’ll let you know if anything changes.”

Rachel looks confused for a moment before merely shrugging it off, leaning in to press a kiss to your cheek, “Okay then, I’m off! I love you ok? Hang in there...”

You embrace her shortly unable to help the growth in your smile, “I love you too. I wanna hear about the meeting tomorrow ok?”

She agrees happily, already bounding off towards the schoolhouse, a basket of flowers in her hand.

Despite the uncertainty you may feel about your own romantic life, you are filled with joy at the thought of your dear friend starting a fairytale of her own.

Even though she has absolutely no idea...

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

Rachel arrives at the schoolhouse just before sundown, using her master key to unlock the heavy oak door of the main entrance before heading off to her classroom.

The windows surrounding the exterior of the schoolyard allow for the different hues of the sunset to stream in thorough the glass, providing a beautiful stroll down the hallway.

Rachel feels optimistic as she opens up the door, immediately setting the basket of flowers on a nearby desk and lighting the various lanterns around the room.

The sun would be up for another half an hour or so but, Rachel was unsure as to how long this meeting would go so a little extra light wouldn’t hurt.

Since she doesn’t have a concrete time of arrival, she decides to busy herself with a bit of prep work and light cleaning for the next school day. She figures that if a parent were to walk in on her likes this, it might add to their overall impression of the school.

A teacher’s work is never done.

After roughly 40 minutes or so, Rachel is beginning to worry that this parent potentially changed their mind. That is until, a light knock sounds on the outside of her door.

“Come in!” She calls brightly, standing up from behind her desk.

She has no expectations for what her visitor might look like as she honestly hadn’t even considered it since you asked her this favor. However, the man who walks in through her door most certainly is not who she would have ever expected.

Because the man who just walked in, is Jungkook.

Tall, strong, doe-eyed, shaggy haired, WARRIOR Jungkook...

The terror cub himself has now found his way inside her classroom.

And she is both terribly confused and terribly excited all at once.

“Good evening,” She chokes out, smoothing her hands down the front of her dress, “Forgive me but- you're not the person I’m meant to meet with are you? Did you see any folks outside, looking a bit lost perhaps?”

Jungkook looks terrified but he steps inside nonetheless, one of his hands positioned awkwardly behind his back.

“Uh- Hi, I mean- Good evening mam...” He bows before her, “Um...” He shuffles forward a bit, his eyes scanning the room for a moment, “Heretheseareforyou.” Jungkook rushes out, shoving a bouquet of fresh daisies onto one of the empty desks, his eyes averting Rachel’s very confused expression, “I am the person you’re meant to meet actually...”

Rachel gasps to herself as she spots the daisies, her heart immediately picking up in her chest, “Oh! Oh goodness thank you, that’s very kind of you...” She smiles, her hands seemingly frozen in place at the front of her dress, “I’m- I’m so confused I apologize. Do you have children?”

He shakes his head, his floppy black hair following the motions. He is dressed in a pair of tan linen pants and a rather tight-fitting white peasant blouse, the golden expanse of his chest on full display, his feet tucked into a pair of leather boots. Rachel does her best to ignore how good he looks but, he makes it very difficult.

“No I don’t.” He answers, cringing slightly at the juvenile nature of this situation, “You know Y/N right?”

Rachel giggles, the sound a little higher pitched than usual, “I do yes. We’ve been friends since we were children...”

“Heh yeah, sorry I knew that but uh- so Y/N...” He begins, his hands coming up to assist in his explanation, “She paid me a visit earlier and suggested that...welll- She suggested that I pay you a visit.”

“Oh well- is everything alright? Are you in need of my assistance?” She inquires softly, her face decorated with concern.

Jungkook’s chest is filled with warmth at the sight of her unease, feeling very lucky to be the object of her concern.

“Everything’s ok I just- I wasn’t sure how to go about speaking with you.” He hesitates, feeling a bit of discomfort as he tries to find a way to explain his presence here, “I know you’re a very busy woman and I wasn’t even sure if you’d even want to speak with me which- by the way, if you’re uncomfortable with my presence, please let me know. I don’t want to be a bother...”

Rachel shakes her head instantly, her hands coming up to stop him from continuing that train of thought, “No- no not all! I mean-” She clears her throat, “You aren't a bother at all, I would love to speak with you. Although, forgive me- I'm a little confused as to what you’d like to speak about. Is it the school? Are you interested in meeting with the students?”

Jungkook grins softly and shakes his head, “No mam. I mean- I wouldn’t be opposed to meeting with them but, I am more interested in meeting with you...”

She gulps, her eyes widening a bit as she places a hand to her chest, “Me?”

He bites his lip and Rachel swears she sees a sparkle in his eyes as he steps closer to her.

“Yes mam. I uh-” His throat bobs with his own uncomfortable swallow as he shoves his hand in the pocket of his pants, pulling out a piece of crumbled parchment, “ I have travelled many miles. I have seen the mountains, the ocean and the forest. I have seen the sun in east and the moon in the west. I have seen the royal palace and all the riches it contains. I have seen all a man would need to see in his lifetime and yet, I have never felt complete until my eyes fell upon your face.”

Comically, Rachel’s mouth has fallen open, her face colored with shock.

Her heart seemingly freezes in her chest as Jungkook’s nervous gaze leaves the parchment and gazes up towards her.

“I wrote this when I was 17.” He begins sheepishly, “I promised myself that I would read it for the woman who captured my heart...”

Rachel inhales shakily, a slight sting in her eyes as emotion overcomes her.

“But you just read it to me...”

He chuckles warmly, his hand tucking a bit of hair behind his ear, “I did.”

“Am I-?” She begins but Jungkook cuts her off, stepping towards her a bit more.

“I know it’s a bit much isn’t it? I’ve never been very good with subtly and with my departure looming in the background, I couldn’t help but confess to you while I still had time. You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, and your existence makes me warm. I haven’t felt warmth like this before and I- I guess I just wanted to see if I had a chance at courting you...”

Rachel finally closes her mouth for a moment only to cover it with her hand.

She’s in complete disbelief that this is happening, but she responds nevertheless as best as she can.

“You- you have more than chance, you have a million chances I- oh wow, I feel a little faint goodness gracious...” She sighs, fanning herself as she leans against her desk, “I don’t understand...”

He rushes over to her then, a look of concern on his face, “Are you alright? Do you need some water or something?”

She shakes her head, letting out a shaky breath at the close proximity between them, immediately noticing the way he smells like amber and rosemary.

It warm, just like he is.

“I’m ok, I just-” She looks up at him, “I honestly cannot believe you feel this way about me. I’m just a schoolteacher, I probably have paste in my hair...and you’re a warrior I- I'm confused.”

Jungkook snickers, tilting his head to the side as he spots the bit of paste still clinging to the end of her hair. With gentle fingers, he reaches out and extracts the bit of dried gunk from her hair, discarding it on the desk, “You are not ‘just’ anything. You are bright and warm. Your duty lies with educating the children and I believe that to be far nobler than what I do. Please don’t sell yourself short, especially not on my account.”

Subconsciously, they seem to lean into one another, Rachel’s nerves dissipating slightly, “So then, you said you wish to court me yes? How- how do you intend we do this?”

He purses his lips, “Well,” He tilts his head to the side, “I would love to have dinner with you. I know that there aren’t many eateries in the village but-”

“I can cook for us!” She chirps happily cause his grin to broaden, “I know a spot we can eat, it’s really beautiful and it’s private for the most part.”

Jungkook is bursting with fondness, nodding eagerly at her suggestion before turning around to grab the flowers, “That sounds wonderful. Are you available tomorrow, same time?”

“Yes! I mean-” She clears her throat as the volume of her voice escapes her, “Yes, yes I’m free. I can meet you at the plaza?”

“Yes, of course. I’ll meet you anywhere you’d like...” He nods and haphazardly pushes the flowers in her direction, “Here, I picked these for you. I’ll pick more tomorrow as well- do you have a favorite? I hope daisies were alright...I’m not familiar with the flora around here.”

She smiles brightly, accepting the flowers graciously, securing them to your chest, “These are perfect! I love wildflowers, really anything that grows along the east part of the river...” She muses thoughtfully, “Daisies are some of my favorites as well. I’m sure Y/N told you that though...” She giggles but Jungkook shakes his head.

“She didn’t actually. I suppose it was just a lucky guess.” He smiles before stepping back slightly, fiddling with his hands now that they are empty, “So tomorrow then?”

With another rapid nod she responds, “Yes, tomorrow.”

“Great! Well uh-” He hesitates, glancing longingly towards her lips before extending his hand, “May I?”

With a harsh swallow and a shaky hand, she obliges, sticking her hand out towards his.

As if she were made of glass, Jungkook carefully raises her hand to his lips before placing a chaste kiss over the ridges of her knuckles, “Until tomorrow...”

“Until tomorrow.” She squeaks, covering her mouth once more.

He bows his head, offering another devastating grin before leaving the classroom.

With a hefty sigh, Rachel stares at the door in disbelief.

“It seems as though my dear friend isn’t an apothecary but a criminal mastermind...” She muses to herself, her cheeks on fire as she giggles to herself, “Huh, you think you know people.”

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

You decided shortly after your meeting with Rachel that you would in fact be going to the river because, regardless of your uncertainty: you still wanted to see Yoongi.

“Something is troubling you...” He notes the moment he steps out from behind the trees, dressed down in a pair of black pants and a longer gray linen robe to ward of the slight chill in the air.

“What makes you say that?” You challenge with a grin, your heart fluttering as soon as you see him, “I’m just hoping my plan is playing out as I’d hoped...”

“Ah-” He lifts a finger, “I recall you saying that your plans play out relatively well. Also, you and I both know that my brother and your friend are smitten over one another so- I find it hard to believe your thinking so hard about a clear victory.”

You bite your lip, unsure of what to say next as Yoongi has so clearly seen right through you.

“We don’t get much time together; it would be a waste to spend it discussing the internal monologue going on inside my head.” You joke, stepping towards him.

He clicks his tongue, “Now see- that is where you’re wrong. It was your internal monologue and your resulting opinions that drew me to visit you in the first place. The other talents your lips have are merely a bonus.” He smirks but his eyes hold some degree of concern, “I want to know what’s on your mind Y/N...no matter how insignificant you may find it.”

Yoongi’s sincerity draws you out of your shell, your heart picking up slightly at the thought of discussing your feelings.

“It’s silly...” You warn him causing him to chuckle.

“Good, I could use a bit of silliness after today.” He promises with a grin but his laughter dissipates as he notices even the slightest bit of distress on your face, “Your thoughts aren’t silly Y/N, at least not to me. I’d really like to hear what you’re thinking.”

Gnawing on your bottom lip, you take a deep breath and muster up the courage to be honest with him, “What are your intentions with me?”

He tilts his head, stepping closer to you after your question, face decorated with curiosity, “Which intentions are you referring to?”

You feel yourself growing nervous under his gaze but, you stay strong anyway and push through, “All of them- I suppose. It’s just that, I’m having difficulty...I’m-”

The hesitation in your features concerns Yoongi and he can’t help but quell the distance between you, taking your hands gently in his own.

“My girl- what's troubling you like this? Have I upset you?”

He’s tilting his head, trying to find your gaze as you look down at where your hands are connected.

His question causes you to look up at him, lips parted as you shake your head.

“No, no of course not.” You assure him, entwining your fingers with his, “I just- oh I promise you it’s going to sound silly...”

Yoongi chuckles incredulously, gently shaking your hands in his grip, “Y/N, darling please tell me what’s on your mind. I promise you I won’t find think it’s silly.”

Your heart sings at the pet name he gives you, taking a momentary break from it’s uneven rhythm, “I’ve just been wondering why you haven’t...well, why we haven’t- why we haven’t been intimate.”

Yoongi’s chest tightens with realization, his grip on your hands tightening ever so slightly before taking a deep breath, “There is nothing silly about that at all.” He assures you with a gentle smile, his eyes shifting from your hands to your face and back again whilst he tries to come up with a response, “It’s a perfectly normal thing to be curious about, especially considering how often we kiss. To be quite honest, my reasoning is probably what will end up sounding silly to you...”

“I don’t think it will, I just want to understand where your head is at because,” You sigh, looking into his eyes, “sometimes I feel alone in how much I desire you and I thought maybe if I got an idea where your head is at, I could understand why you always stop things before they go too far.”

At this, Yoongi raises his brows, “You think you’re alone in the desire to take me to bed?” He confirms, his voice deepening, a ghost of a smirk on his lips, “And here I thought you were clever...”

With a pout to your lips, you playfully tug your hands out of his grip causing him to chuckle before capturing them once again, “I am clever! Clever people get confused all the time, besides you just said this was a perfectly normal thing to be curious about.”

He laughs still and nods, guiding your hands up to his shoulders, “Yes I did. However, I was referring to you wondering why we haven’t gone to bed together yet, not you wondering whether or not I wanted to take you to bed. That IS silly...”

“It’s not though...” You insist, a shiver running down your spine as he slides his freed hands around your waist, “You always seem so composed. We’ll have been kissing for what feels like forever and then- you stop us. Which is ok of course but, I just don’t fully understand why.”

He hums thoughtfully with a smirk still on his lips as he pulls you closer to him, “My composure is an illusion Y/N. My job requires me to have complete control all of the time, especially in the face of an enemy...”

Scoffing, your pout deepens at the end of his sentence, “Oh so I'm your enemy now? Gee Yoongi, I’m so glad I decided to share this with you- I feel much better now.”

Yoongi laughs heartily at your sarcasm before leaning in and pressing a kiss to your forehead, “You are an enemy to my composure darling- you are just refusing to realize that.”

His kiss causes your heart to sing with satisfaction, despite the fact that you are trying very hard to focus on pouting.

“Even if that were true...I still feel silly for how much I desire you.”

He quells the playfulness between the two of you then, one of his hands coming up to cup your cheek, “You are not silly, and you are not alone. My entire world has shifted because of you. I think you’d be shocked if you knew how much you occupied my thoughts.” He assures you, placing another kiss on your forehead, “However, that isn’t the answer to your question is it? You’re wondering why we haven’t gone to bed together despite how much we desire each other.”

“Yes.” You murmur, leaning against his hand, “If you have any insight on this general, please provide a briefing...”

He smirks fondly, brushing his thumb over your cheek, “You really have no idea how much I want you. I don’t think I could possibly explain it. Because of that, I want to wait until I can give you everything I have. Right now I- I simply can’t.” He admits, a bit of sadness now in his tone, “I want to wait until I have a proper villa, until I don’t have to worry about leaving at dawn to continue training, until I can stay underneath the sheets with you, until I can spend hours pleasing you- without the threat of war in the back of my mind. You deserve a man with no distractions, right now- I'm just not that man yet.”

His explanation makes perfect sense and you feel a bit of guilt for ever wondering how he felt about you in the first place but before you’re able to comment on his words, he speaks again.

“But please- please don’t think that means I don’t desire you.” He whispers, smiling softly whilst he places yet another kiss to your forehead. Letting his lips linger there, he sighs hopelessly, “One day, when I am finally free of my duties- I will spend days memorizing your skin with my lips...” He begins kissing his way down the bridge of your nose, puckering his lips gently as he does. He bypasses your lips however and uses his hand to tilt your head to the side, give him access to your neck, “I will memorize every bump,” He kisses your skin, “every curve,” Kiss “every line,” Kiss “every scar,” Kiss “every spot that gives you pleasure.” He inhales softly through his nose when he hears you gasp, your hands tightening on his shoulders, “Will you wait for me darling? Will you wait until I can give you my soul? My heart is already yours, I just need a little bit longer....”

You’re already nodding, certain with your response despite how much his presence is currently affecting you, “I’d wait for you forever, General Min.”

You can feel him grin against your neck, “I only need six months...” He chuckles, his laughter increasing as you playfully smack his back. “Then I’m yours forever.”

At his amendment, you smile and kiss the side of his head, “Forever sounds nice.”

Yoongi sighs, sliding his hands across your back to pull you into his embrace, “Forever it is then.”

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mc-critical · 3 years

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This ask got me thinking after one of your latest asks about Hurrem's suicide attempt. Do you think Hurrem's enemies( such as Mahidevran, Hatice, Ibrahim, Gulfem...) would start to be a little bit more sympatic towards to Hurrem if they learn her suicide attemps for Suleiman?(Like when Afife saved her in ep 72) I mean, Valide started to respect and understand her after she saw how much she really loved Suleiman and was willing to give her life for him. Also Afife started to understand her after saving her life. What do you think about the other enemies ? :)

It highly depends on the dynamic each one has with Hürrem individually, their own reasons for putting their foot down on her or being enemies with her, how much can that "new knowledge" move past these reasons and everyone's own individual view on Süleiman.

I feel the one who would sympathize with Hürrem the most in such circumstance would be Gülfem. She has experienced a level of loss and knows what it means to feel that life isn't worth living after that loss. If she learns, she would surely understand and perhaps say that, despite of everything, Hürrem is attached very strongly to Süleiman and has immense loyalty for him. She wouldn't condone Hürrem's other actions that don't sit well with her (like bringing Nigar in the harem only to spite Hatice, reminding her of the infidelity at every turn and even using Gülfem herself to frame Mahidevran for an assault in order to become the ruler of the harem since that was relatively soon), but would put the action into context in front of everyone.

This reaction would be helped by the fact that Gülfem isn't exactly her enemy per say, is very forgiving and patient, isn't used to holding grudges, and is only ever against Hürrem when she does something against her loved ones or she crosses some kind of a line by petty insults or comebacks. Besides, Gülfem still strives to see the good in Süleiman by this point of the show, being his emotional support and conscience even before S04 and becomes worried about what would happen to everyone every time he's ill, so such action of Hürrem's would be pretty explainable for her, even though she could certainly think that Firuze is something she had coming for her, and if they get a chance to talk about it in the depths of my headcanon, they would be the most possible "duo" to have a heart to heart.

Both Ibrahim and Mahidevran's perspectives have pretty much in many ways been shown by episode 55 where Hürrem prepares to do something pretty similar to her suicide attempt in episode 72, just with even more massive stakes.

A major part of the conflict between Hürrem and Ibrahim is rooted on Süleiman: his attention on both of them and the amount of influence Hürrem wants to exercise over him. However, the loyalties they have towards Süleiman is where they have managed to find common ground. Ibrahim is fully aware that Hürrem would never directly act against him. Him learning about a suicide attempt of Hürrem's due to the prospect of losing Süleiman would be nothing new to him, since, as highlighted by their confrontation in E55, he was aware that she was in such a state where she was willing to 'do the impossible'. They were both devastated by the ongoing events and they could come to a mutual understanding. It's possible for him to at least try to understand what she's going through there. But that would only last for so long, for the moment he learns about it. He would widen and maybe think, but... that would be about it. Because if Mahidevran directly acted before Valide hid the children and with SS's fate still being uncertain in E55, Hü and Ibro would have teamed up to stop this mess, but not here.

I once again come back to the comparatively more personal stakes of Hürrem's suicide in E72: this attempt wouldn't be enough to put everything between them behind, for Ibrahim to have such a strong amount of sympathy, none of this can be forgotten by a single suicide attempt. Their history is much longer than that. I would say that he would indeed think about the fact that Firuze is bothering Hürrem so much, wonder for a few seconds, how did it come to this, tell Matrakci about it and tell him that Hürrem must be very threatened to go for this, maybe with a hint of understanding... but that would be about it. It would be a temporary reaction, nothing between them or their dynamic would change in a significant way, he wouldn't get more sympathetic with Hürrem. Because that is a side of her Ibrahim has seen, on the possibility of another, scarier, more dangerous future for them both.

Mahidevran is the person who, is not only the least likely to, but surely, by one hundred percent, wouldn't sympathize with Hürrem over her suicide attempt at. all. Her hatred for Hürrem is seriously big and the points where they both could ever come to an understanding are rare. Some suicide attempt would seem something incredibly trivial and far too small to turn the tables. That is empowered even further by Mahidevran's own ongoing character arc that relates to Süleiman and the way her inner strength evolves by her letting go of him. At this point of the show, Mahidevran wouldn't even be able to relate to what Hürrem has done on a personal level, since Süleiman is nothing but memories to her already. It's not an experience she could connect herself with because of this exact shifting of priorities. What she wants even more at this point is Hürrem's end and she would be fine with however would it happen. {We could say she would generally prefer suffering for her (as she said in E55, but it's a belief confirmed again in E79, saying that death would only be a salvation for her spy; and then advanced even further in S04.), but is on board with killing her as well. (see her sending Diana to kill her)} I even imagine her to still widen at the news, but to wonder why did Afife even save her. (if they learn about that, too)

Despite of this, I feel there're a few angles of how precisely Mahidevran would view this suicide: the confrontation between Hürrem and her in front of SS's bed in E55 is key in her witnessing her say that it's namely dying with Süleiman that she would do if SS died anyway. And there we have Mahidevran claim that Hürrem doesn't do it out of love, but out of fear for her life. She could view Hürrem's suicide in E72 like this, too, and this way she would not only not sympathize with her for it, but also condemn her for doing it in some way. She may not read these intentions as genuine, she may even see it all as a plan of Hürrem's to win Afife over? There wasn't an indication that Mahidevran's view of these stunts of hers changed by that point, even though Mahidevran realized that her E55 actions were a mistake. The second angle of this could be the direct demonstration of her belief of the endless cycle of the harem that would never change. Yes, in E64 Mahidevran had stopped believing that another woman could defeat Hürrem (seen by her expression when Hatice told everyone that this is the only thing that would beat Hürrem), but seeing Firuze brought something else to the table. Then Mahidevran begins once again saying that Hü would burn in the same fire she did, calling back to her words in E61 that one woman would come and destroy this indestructible love. Seeing this realized with Firuze, seeing Hürrem struggle against her that much to the point of giving up, albeit in the opposite way Mahidevran did from SS... it would just show that Hürrem indeed isn't irreplaceable, that every good thing comes to an end, that Hürrem's victories wouldn't be endless and that she would doom herself one day. This could be a part of what Mahidevran wanted, confirming her beliefs of then, yet weakening her rival by a severe amount. Firuze having such an affect on Hürrem would by no means be approached sympathetically by Mahidevran, even if it hypothetically happened in the moment where it could (by that I mean early S01, in E10, when SS was rumored to be dead and if Hü tried such a thing then. And if, say, Firuze existed instead of Sadıka, ofc.), because even then Mahidevran's priorities would be immediately switched to the baggage little Mustafa had to deal with. Hürrem and Mahidevran had their few and far between moments of understanding, but that understanding was connected to their children and their motherly instincts. Only then would they be close to put their differences behind. Not here.

I find Hatice's possible reaction to be kind of a mix between what virtues she has seen in Hürrem before and their relationship in S03A's present. We know that Hatice completely stood against Hürrem because of her simultaniously threatening dynasty and family and what they stood for in Hatice's eyes. However, there have been two exceptions throughout S03A where Hatice actually sided with Hürrem or was shown to be empathetic to her. One of the exceptions was Süleiman falling ill once again in E78 where she was standing next to Hürrem and sharing her desire to see SS recover. That circumstance is similar to what E55 offered, because Hatice saw Hürrem in a better light, albeit for a moment in this case, while showing a loyalty to both the dynasty and the family that is Süleiman. That's where they're able to set their differences even in times where they are full on enemies. It is possible that Hatice may show a hint of understanding for Hürrem's suicide, because she is showing some kind of loyalty to Süleiman and after all, Hatice did once truly admire their love and even understood Hürrem's urge to send the Russian concubines off back in S01. She could understand why Hürrem did it and even empathize with it in part. It wouldn't be completely impossible, since she also has an idea of what it is like. But on the other hand, things have changed since S01: Firuze is the person Hatice counted on to take the win out of Hürrem's hands and Hatice was in such a state that she wanted Firuze to completely take over, which would make us think.

Nonetheless, learning of Hürrem's suicide attempt would definetly surprise Hatice, because even though she wanted for Firuze to take away Hürrem's Thursdays, such a reaction from Hürrem wouldn't be that expected and she would possibly view it as extreme even, since as I have said, Hatice didn't want to kill her in S03A. To knock her down a peg, to put her in her place, yes, but to want or expect such an ending for her, with her doing it herself.. I don't think so. She could even ask her is she okay and even thank Afife for saving her. Again, I don't think it would change their dynamic all that much, probably would keep a bigger eye on Firuze's moves?, but it would be a little moment of piece between them and Hatice could really sympathize. Because Hatice is still very human at her core.

[Side note: Ayşe Hafsa's dynamic with Hürrem changed so much after she saw Hürrem in E55, namely because she saw another side of Hürrem, virtues she didn't think she had and for the defense of which she stood up against Hürrem - again, the loyalty to dynasty and family. In E38, when she overheard her, she saw Hürrem marching against all of them by saying she would get rid of basically everyone and then her seemigly using SS's trust and love for her in cold calculation. In E55, she saw her love for SS in a different better light, a loyalty so strong and contrasting it negated every doubt Valide had against her and made her fully support her as a result. To be fair, the contrast with Mahidevran also helped, since Valide was conversely disappointed by a person she had an almost familial bond with and it's just that the occurrences in the whole episode were just so massive they made her switch from one side to another. Her son's future was put in question as much as her own.

Afife wasn't really an enemy of Hürrem's. She was more of a "lawful neutral" type of character: she helped with the Firuze case only because she was led to believe that Hürrem disrupted the balance in the harem and this balance could be fixed only through another woman. She told Hürrem off that one time, because Afife was so loyal to the laws she found herself to act by them and them alone, thus claiming that Hürrem isn't a Valide Sultan and Afife could arrange the entertainment regardless. (and also because the plot demanded it.) There wasn't any personal ire there. But Hürrem's suicide is something that touched her on a personal level, for she loves SS as her own son. That's once again, something she has never had the chance to see in her life, something new that moved her and made her more supportive of Hürrem and view Firuze in another way. Because after such event she couldn't help, but think: "Could Firuze do the bold thing the legal wife and the mother of his majesty's five kids just did?".]

#magnificent century #muhteşem yüzyıl #muhtesem yuzyil #hurrem sultan #mahidevran sultan #ibrahim pasha #hatice sultan #gulfem hatun #ayse hafsa sultan #afife hatun #ask #ganeshkfp #i may have gotten carried away 😅#but this was so interesting to think about!

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trahottie · 3 years

Text

Trahearne x F!Commander

(Ao3) Ch 1 / ? - It is the eve of the Pact's final assault against Zhaitan. A morning unlike any other awaited them all and unspoken truths must be shared before it is too late. Marshal Trahearne and Commander Rhea struggle to reconcile with the meaning of their friendship as they realize they might never see each other ever again.

---

“You are dismissed. I no longer require your assistance for the rest of this evening.”

“Yes, sir.”

Trahearne watched his guards walk away. When there was enough distance between them, he turned on his heels and walked towards the airship ports. He made sure his path avoided as much attention from the night shift workers as possible.

It was past midnight, and the day’s duties were finally complete. At least as complete as they could be. There was never knowing whether you’ve done everything you possibly could have. Did you consider every single liability? Every single possible strategy? Was there something you have forgotten, overlooked, or simply didn’t think of?

Enough, Trahearne thought to himself. All that was left was to trust in his comrades and pray that Balthazar's strength will be with them all.

He was off to reward himself with much-needed respite. Trahearne was a few steps away from the airship dock entrance when the assigned guard greeted him with a quick salute and pulled a lever to open the gates.

“Thank you,” Trahearne said quietly, with a nod to the guard.

He let out a deep sigh as he walked along the narrow metal platforms leading up to one of the airships. For some reason even just being a little removed from the rest of the Fort helped him gain clarity of mind. It helped him breathe.

A few moments later he found himself at the tip of the Pact Glory’s bow. Whenever he could steal a few moments to himself, he would plant himself at whatever airship had the widest view of the ocean’s horizon. He heavily relied on this solitude to recharge his mind and body.

This hour of the day didn’t provide much of a view. Not that it entirely mattered. It was the space and quietness that were most important. Trahearne gripped the hand railings of the bow and closed his eyes while slowing and deepening his breath. He let his consciousness drift deep within.

When he felt the fringes of the Dream brush his mind, he let it swim deeper and faster until he began to recall the warmth of Mother’s light. Even though his vision was dark, it was as if he saw a glowing ember as well. He felt himself weigh a little less, as happy, distant memories of home began to trickle throughout his mind. It wasn’t long before Trahearne was deep within the ritual that helped protect his sanity for more than 20 years.

Trahearne’s eyes wavered open. “Caithe.” Over the years, he had developed a sixth sense for his sister’s movements.

“Good evening, brother”. Caithe said. As usual, she spoke softly, as if it were half a whisper, and her smooth, melodic voice seemed to slither through the air.

“How are you feeling?” Trahearne asked as he turned to face her while leaning against the railings.

“You know how I feel,” she said plainly while ambling about the bow, “I’m prepared for the uncertainty that lies await. As I always have. All these years I wondered when I may resume my Wyld Hunt, and here I am…” she turned to face Trahearne, her expression nigh unreadable as always, “But I don’t know how you feel, Brother. Ever since the Pact’s formation, I hear less and less from your heart”.

He sighed, and stared at his feet, “It can’t be helped. It is a challenge, separating my life as Marshal from my life as someone...well, as someone...”

Caithe’s lips curled into a smirk, "As someone what?”

Trahearne shrugged in exasperation. “I don’t know. Do you have an answer to such a question? You know what it is like living years and years, aimlessly grasping at your Wyld Hunt. After so long I've finally fulfilled mine, and yet here I am - still working, with the fate of the world resting on my command.”

“Of course. That is a loaded question. I simply…” she huffed a sigh. “You know I am not one for emotional farewells. But, while we are able... let us talk. As we did in the Grove," she said as she beckoned him to walk beside her along the ship’s perimeter.

A warm smile graced Trahearne’s lips as he joined her, “Ah, yes. Home. It is incredible how much has happened over the past two decades... and how much you’ve grown, dear sister.”

Caithe smiled one of her rare smiles. “You, as well. Who would’ve known our dear bookish scholar would one day lead an armada whilst wielding Caladbolg?”

He couldn’t resist a low chuckle. “I wonder at that fact every day”.

In a sudden change of tone, Caithe turned to face the ocean with a forlorn gaze. "I sent a letter to Faolain," she said softly.

"Faolain?" He asked with furrowed brows. "Even after all that you endured in the Twilight Arbor?"

"What can I say, brother," Caithe whispered with a helplessness that took him by surprise. "I can’t say I love her anymore, and I can say that I despise her for what she’s become and accomplished. But I might die tomorrow. For some reason I just needed to let her know. What we had between us is so deep and complicated, Trahearne…"

"Of course, I do not mean to judge," he said softly. "I only speak out of concern for your happiness. And please do not say things like that. I will see you, and we will return home to Mother together." Trahearne gently turned her to face him and held her hands.

"I know you do," Caithe said with a small smile, "and yes, I will believe that."

A moment passed between them.

"Happiness," she continued, contemplative. She withdrew her hands and instead held his. "What of yours? That is why I’ve come to you tonight, dear brother. Have you spoken to Rhea before she took to her quarters?"

"The Commander? Well, yes, of course, we-"

"I mean truly. A conversation. Not an intelligence briefing."

Trahearne let his head sink. “No... it has not been possible.” His gaze slowly met Caithe’s. He knew his sister’s ways, and she pivoted the conversation with as much precision as she did with her knives. There was a part of him that knew what she was hinting towards, but he drowned it out. He didn’t want to believe it.

“Trahearne. I know you. And I’ve come to know her. Please don’t try to lie or hide from me. Or Rhea. Now isn’t the time. ”

He buried his face into his hands. “Caithe, what are you suggesting...”

She took a step closer to him and spoke firmly, “Judging by your reaction, I am sure you know exactly what I am talking about.”

“I can’t... I can’t talk about this right now.” His hands combed through his hair out of frustration. It felt like the world was going to slowly collapse around him. For some reason making countless life or death decisions at the head of an army could not cause as much anxiety as this conversation was able to.

“Pull yourself together, brother," Caithe said softly, "And please, look at me.”

“By the Pale Tree, Caithe, after everything I’ve endured, if you can let me be cowardly at one thing, let it be this,” he hissed through gritted teeth.

Caithe wrapped her arms around him in a comforting embrace. Trahearne tensed, taken aback by his sister’s rare and spectacular show of affection. He then felt his shoulders loosen.

“Dear Brother... look at us. More than twenty years of fighting and struggling, and here, at last, we will fulfill our destiny. Do we not deserve our happiness? Can we not afford to be selfish for a little while?” She drew away and took his hands into her own. “For me... that part of my life has been tainted. Time will tell if I will recover and move on. But it is not too late for you, Trahearne.” She looked up at him with mournful eyes.

Trahearne gently withdrew from her and walked further down towards the tip of the bow. He chose another set of railings to lean over, shoulder hunched, head hanging. “If it was anyone else, I’d accuse them of playing a poor joke on me. But you," He looked at her helplessly, "how can you be so sure?”

Caithe let out a soft chuckle. “You know, it is quite obvious to other persons beyond myself.”

Trahearne felt his face drop. “You can’t be serious.”

“Fear not, brother! At most, it is a playful rumor that has not affected your soldiers’ respect for you both. If anything, some enjoy it. Perhaps it's a reminder that life and happiness persist despite shadow and despair.”

He nervously rubbed the back of his neck. “I can’t believe any of this. Everything about it is... absurd. I’m at a loss, Caithe.” He turned to her, his face struck with helplessness. “You know how I am with these things.

“Talk to me," she said as she joined him at the bow. "What is so absurd?”

He hunched over the railings once more, as if an endless list of items fell flat on his back with an insurmountable weight. “For one thing," he said, "She is of a noble human family. Caithe, can you imagine ?" He seethed with exasperation.

Caithe frowned, unimpressed with his first excuse. "And she left all of that to join the Vigil, become the Commander of the most important armada in Tyria, and has overcome the most supreme challenges this world could throw at a single person. You think she is one to be burdened by conventional appearances?"

Trahearne rubbed his brow. His sister wasn't going to let him off easy.

“It has always been..." he started more quietly, "... difficult to address this part of my life. Nearly every day of my life was devoted to this land of death, despair, and decay. What room do I have left for… for any of this?"

“You have had relationships," Caithe offered. "And with non-sylvari no less."

“Relationships is not the word I would give those encounters,” he said, wincing with embarrassment.

“I stand corrected. But this is different. I don’t need to articulate that to you, do I?”

"No. You do not. She is…" The sheer thought of her left him breathless for a moment. What felt like an eon passed before he can utter the words that could only attempt to describe Rhea. “A force of nature."

It was the only phrase he could conjure to capture what he thought of her. From her ferocity to her grace. From the softness of her beauty to the roughness of her scars. And the boundlessness of her curiosity and care for others, all of which stunned him time and time again over the many months they spent with one another as each other's sole confidante. It all rushed over him like a towering wave in the Unending Ocean.

“And yet so much more,” he whispered before burying his face into his hands. What was he even saying right now? You’re a marshal now, Trahearne. Not some foolish sapling. “Oh, Caithe…”

"I know, brother," Caithe whispered as she gently wrapped her arms around him in a comforting hold.

Trahearne returned her embrace as he lifted his mournful gaze towards the sky. His eyes followed the artful scatter of glittering stars until they fell upon the tallest parapets of Fort Trinity. He could tell a few of the lights in the bunkers were still turned on.

His lips parted as his chest twisted with longing for his dear friend. Was the Commander getting the rest that she needed? Or is she still awake? Is she afraid? Did she look to the ocean and the stars the way he did now, searching for some forsaken answer to the pain in his heart? How I wish I could be by your side to comfort you as I once did.

His heart burned with bittersweet melancholy as he recalled the day they first met.

"I don't know what to do," she whispered, her breath shaken. "We were supposed to figure it out together. Forgal knew so much about the Risen. He promised we would never let it get this bad." Rhea gasped for air, as more tears threatened to choke her breath. "Now it's just me. We were supposed to do this together, I don't, I don't know what to do..."

Rhea's words trailed off as she hunched over the ship's railing. Her shoulders trembled ever so slightly from the shudders of her suppressed tears. The sky never looked so dark as it did when the remaining survivors of Claw Island sailed towards Lions Arch in stunned silence.

Nevertheless, Trahearne fixed his gaze unto the young woman, brimming with a conviction he had not felt for a long time. The image of the Warmaster sprinting forward past droves of screaming Lionguard and headfirst towards the massive Risen Dragon that toppled nearly half of Claw Island was seared into his mind. She was ablaze in a burst of lightning, its brightness nearly rivaling her stunning act of defiance. It was ferocious. It was breathtaking. When was the last time he saw someone fight so relentlessly despite such devastating odds?

The calamity that was Orr and his Wyld Hunt long paralyzed Trahearne. Despite the confidence his colleagues held in his expertise, he could never escape how trapped he felt in his cycle of fatigue and uncertainty. He dared to admit he was resigned to a bitter, lonely lifetime of fruitless efforts. That was, until now. Suddenly, at this woman's side, the question of his future felt... different. Brighter, almost. The call to seize his Hunt burned with renewed vigor.

"Warmaster Rhea," Trahearne said firmly. "You can't do it alone. Because I won't allow you to."

Rhea tensed, her glassy hardened gaze turning towards Trahearne's.

"There is much I owe to Warmaster Forgal. The least I can do is stand by his protege and make sure she succeeds. And needless to say, I owe my life to the bravery you showed today." Trahearne held out his hand as a noble smile graced his lips. "Rhea, you can count on me to be by your side until Orr rises no more. You will never be alone."

Trahearne's eyes closed, resigned to the truth of his painful feelings. He wanted nothing more than to rush towards her bunker and tell her what he truly thought of her before she left him and stepped foot onto that airship. But how ridiculous would that be? Not only did she need no further distractions tonight, but how might the Commander recoil that someone like him could feel for her the way that he did?

And how I wish you could be thinking of me the way I am thinking of you...

He couldn’t even entertain the possibility that she might never come back. No, he thought. By the Pale Tree, this mission must succeed. If not for Tyria, then at least for him.

---

#trahearne #guild wars 2 #gw2 #sylvari #trammander #my writing

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muffledcries · 3 years

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Jahmil French (July 29, 1991 – March 1, 2021)

We worked together on Soundtrack, and every single time you entered the room we all felt it get brighter. You were shiny, magnetic and so so kind. RIP and fly with the angels Jah. – JENNA DEWAN Really hate that this is real. @JahmilFrench you will be missed my friend. Thank you for your talents that pushed me, your energy that kept our little family on @soundtracknetflix glued together. I’m happy I was able to get to know you. Our work together def made an impact on me & You and your Mom felt like family back home. Today and everyday we will remember you and continue to be inspired to live and be great for you. Rest In Peace Jah. – CHRISTINA MILLIAN Honestly been at a loss for words since I heard the news. This doesn’t feel real. Jahmil, was one of the most talented actors I’ve ever worked with. One of the funniest kindest people I ever met. The life of the party, every room he would walk into he would always be dancing and making people laugh and smile. Too many good memories. Thank you Jahmil. Rest In Peace King. – AJ SAUDIN Heartbroken over the loss of our friend Jahmil French. We started on Degrassi the same year and I’ll never forget the day I met him. Jahmil was so full of energy and absolute joy to be around. The video on the last slide is how I always think of him, always dancing. He was such a special person and I’m so grateful for the memories we made. I still can’t believe it. Gone way too soon. He will be so missed by us all. – ANNIE CLARK My heart is so heavy.. Truly one of a kind. Rest In Peace. – CRISTINE PROSPERI I’m sick with the news of Jahmil’s passing. He performed Dave with such sensitivity and thoughtfulness and could make me laugh so easily. It was a pleasure to work with him and he will be missed. This is a real loss. Rest In Peace. – STEFAN BROGREN Jahmil had such talent and charisma that it would have been intimidating were he not also a real gentleman. He would show up to my house-parties with a crew of dancers and they would elevate the mood immediately. When life got messy he would handle himself with grace and levity. He was precocious. And his love for music (and dance) was contagious. He showed me Section 80 by Kendrick Lamar, made me appreciate Drake’s Houston sound… Wish I’d gotten the chance to catch up with him one more time, hear where his mind/dreams were at. – SAM EARLE Jahmil, your talents and energy will never be forgotten. One of the best smiles with the most beautiful soul. Jahmil, you will always be such a bright light in this world. – SARAH FISHER This one really hurts. Jahmil French was a truly kind soul and one of the most talented actors around. He inspired me with his confidence and support from the first day we met and will continue to do so forever. Thank you for everything you gave to this world through both your art and your humanity. Rest In Peace my friend. – CRAIG ARNOLD Much love to the entire Degrassi family on this difficult day. It was a complete honour to write for and work with Jahmil, an incredible actor and talent gone way too soon. – RAMONA BARCKERT An extraordinary talent and a bright light on and off screen. Rest in peace, Jahmil. – MICHAEL GRASSI So sad to hear about the passing of Degrassi cast-member Jahmil French. An endlessly talented & charming performer who was always fun to write for. Last time I saw him, he was nominated for a CSA for his work in the movie Boost and I was certain he was only getting started. RIP. – MATT HUETHER Jahmil was always such a kind person. My heart is heavy for him and his family. Thanks for all the good memories Jahmil, you really had an impact. I’ll cherish all the fun we had dancing at basement parties all those years ago. Still in shock. Jahmil will be missed. He was an integral part of the Degrassi family and certainly a huge part of my degrassi days. He always wanted to make people laugh and smile, a true joy to be around. Rest in Peace. – CHLOE ROSE Rest easy, my friend. Your talent, kindness and shining bright light will never be forgotten. – JESSICA TYLER Wanted to pay my respects to an incredibly kind, funny, and talented individual; Jahmil French. One of the first people I met on Degrassi, he immediately made me feel welcome. He disarmed you with a smile and his confidence and energy was infectious. You’ll be missed, brother. – DYLAN EVERETT Jahmil was one of the most gifted and effortless performers I’ve ever met. His vibrant personality lit up the room. Rest easy my friend. – MUNRO CHAMBERS I am heartbroken to hear about the loss of Jahmil. Jahmil was an extraordinary talent and a bright light on and off the screen. He was a joy to work with on Degrassi: The Next Generation. He brought an authenticity and burst of life to every scene he was in and infused his character ‘Dave’ with an airy lightness. Off screen Jahmil would always make me smile. He will be deeply missed. – LINDA SCHUYLER My heart goes out to the entire Degrassi community., but particularly of course to those who were closest with Jahmil. We have lost one of our own. Jahmil was kind, intelligent, extremely talented, and just a wonderful person. He was also of course an incredible dancer, and since I am the exact opposite we had a running joke that I had taught him all his dance moves. When I would completely ineptly do the Moonwalk, Jahmil would cheer me on, while everyone else would beg me to stop! RIP Jahmil French, your soul and presence are sorely missed. – STEPHEN STOHN A sad day for the Degrassi family. With a heavy heart I thank you for all the times you made me laugh, taught me dance moves, and gave me confidence as Adam. Thinking of all the memories we shared on and off of set. - JORDAN TODOSEY Thinking of Jahmil French & the entire Degrassi family today click here for the full post - LYLE LETTAU This one hurts me deeply. When I found out yesterday I refused to believe it! I wouldn’t except it and to be honest I still don’t quite believe it’s real. I love you and the energy between us was always genuine. Working with you was always a blast and you were always the coolest man in the room. Till we meet again my friend. – CORY LEE Terribly sad to hear about Jahmil’s passing. Whether I was his scene partner, or just a viewer, I was in awe of his sheer talent. A room was brighter because he was in it. A true performer, a great guy and a huge loss. #RestInPeace – JUSTIN KELLY I’m so shocked and saddened to hear this news about Jahmil. Jahmil was and is such a kind, fun loving, hilarious, full of life, hard working and professional person. He was my first real scene partner on a series I got to be a series regular on. I remember the day my agent sent me the casting for Degrassi. It said I would be playing Dave Turners love interest. So the first thing I did was pull up the good ol IMDB machine and find out who Jahmil French was. The same day as my audition a few mere hours later I got the call that the role was mine (pretty rare in this industry) I went in to do my fitting and thats when I met Jahmil, Spencer and AJ for the first time as they played an iconic trio on the show. They were all super friendly and nice to me and made me feel very welcomed to be joining the cast. I was nervous and 15 at the time. Jahmil was the integral glue that held the circle together and its would lead to an amazing friendship that I got to have with Spencer. I had only been slated to do 3 episodes on the show but I believe it was the on screen chemistry Jahmil and I had that lead me to stick around for longer. Jahmil always had a smile on his face. I would come in at 5am for our call to do prep and be so tired, but there he was hanging out in the green room dancing so full of energy and life. Jahmil LOVED dancing and he was really good at it too. And I’d ask him “How do you even have this much energy this early LOL” and he’d just laugh and smile. Any time we went down to block he’d be word perfect on his lines, hit every mark and bring such an amazing professionalism to the set it was mesmerizing to watch. He played every scene with a new beat that always kept it interesting and fresh. Jahmil was and still is such a kind hearted dedicated person who eventually really went on to flourish in his career and he will be deeply missed. Heaven really gained a new angel today, Rest In Peace and say hey to all the other pals up there. Spencer and I will pour one out for you - ALEXX BENOIT Rest in peace my guy. An amazingly talented actor who had such a presence on and off screen. – DEMETRIUS JOYETTE Jahmil was such a wonderful person to be around. so funny, so charismatic, so talented. and my god he loved his work. I’m devasted. Sending my love to his friends and family. In a year full of grief, it’s hard to comprehend how there can be room for more. And yet. Jahmil French was an incredible person, so full of talent and passion for his work. He lit up a room with his energy and dance moves. An easy smile and a natural charisma. He will be so missed. My heart is broken. I feel strange, announcing these things I wish I had told him more often. Reached out more often. The regret is acute. He deserved his flowers when he was here. I hope he knew how much love & admiration there was for him in this world. – AISLINN PAUL One of the most talented, kind hearted, funny spirits I’ve had the pleasure of building a friendship with. Jahmil is an icon. My love for him runs deep. Jahmil you will always hold such a special place in my heart. Thank you for being one of the most talented, compassionate, kindest, funniest friends I have. You were so loved. I’ll miss our dance offs. #Bhandurner forever. Jah literally won the title of most competitive goofball. What joy he brought to my life and to so many. So grateful for memories and deep convos with you, beautiful angel. Blessed that we got to be part of a big dysfunctional family together. Thank you for sharing your gift with the world. I just hope you knew how loved you were. I learnt so much working with this talented dedicated soul. Please send a prayer for his soul to go directly toward the light. – MELINDA SHANKAR Such a beautiful soul & a light to everyone around him. Rest in Paradise Jahmil. – JOELLE FARROW This moment will live in my mind forever. A beautiful soul, thank you for the years of memories and laughter. You’re a light my brother and I’m so happy we got to experience this crazy life together. I’ll always remember you dancing down the halls of the green room. Rest In Peace. – LUKE BILYK I’m devasted. My man, I swear I was just thinking about you not even a few days ago when I was making my new demo reel, watching all the old Degrassi episodes. So talented. So unbelievably wise beyond your years. You made one of the best times of my life even better. I’m so crushed. I should have called you. I dont deserve to miss you as much as I do now. I would always say my favourite actor on the show was Mr. Jahmil French. I would always watch his parts when going thru Degrassi material to either study my tech or to cut demos or whatever else. Not 4 days ago was I daydreaming about making some kind of new production with all of those talented people. My hearts broken. – DANIEL KELLY Jahmil was always the brightest light in the room. Smiling, dancing and making all of us laugh till we cried. Rest In Peace you beautiful soul. You will be missed… - ALICIA JOSIPOVIC This is absolutely heartbreaking. While I never worked directly with Jahmil on Degrassi, our paths did cross a few times. All you needed was 5 minutes with him to realize what a beautiful, talented, bright soul he was. My sincerest condolences to his family and loved onces. Rest In Peace Jahmil French. – ANA GOLJA Shocked & saddened to hear of Jahmil’s passing. Loss of such a talented and bright soul. Rest in Power cuz, I’ll pour one out for you, am so wishing this was a dream. – JAJUBE MANDIELA I join thousands of people around the world thinking about Jahmil today. A beautiful, joyful person to be on set with, truly intimidating on the dance floor, an all-around wonderful person to have known, gone just way, way too soon. Sending love to everyone who loved him. Jahmil, I hope you feel it too. – CHARLOTTE ARNOLD I didn’t know Jahmil very well, but in the few times we met, he was so explosively kind, charismatic and truly interested and invested in every interaction. I immediately felt accepted and got a sense of the deep compassion that so many others had expressed was within him. The impression I had always stuck with me and from all I have heard he was such a beautiful and loving person, the special kind that makes everything a little lighter. Thank you to everyone who has been sharing stories of their time with him. Sending love to Jahmil and all of you. – ERIC OSBORNE Jahmil was such a special human. A long-time acting student of mine, & my mentee. He was fearless and brilliant in his pursuit, and I’m so sad we won’t get to see more of his gift. I’m so grateful to have crossed paths with him, and I wish him eternal peace. – SALVATORE ANTONIO So sad to hear of Jahmil’s passing. He was so kind and so funny. I’m glad I had the chance to know him. You will be missed. Rest in Power Jahmil. Gone too soon. Will never be forgotten. – TAYSHA FULLER Even though I only worked with Jahmil for a little while he made a truly lasting impression. I remember when I first came back to set as Tori and I was incredibly nervous those first few weeks, but Jahmil was so welcoming and treated me and the other new cast members like we’d been a part of the cast the whole time. If he gave you a compliment or even said something as simple as “it’s so good to see you” you knew he genuinely meant it. It seems like a small thing but it’s hard to find that kind of authentic honesty in most people. He was an incredibly talented actor and always such a positive energy on set, and I’ll remember him for all those vibrant moments. Rest In Peace. – ALEXA STEELE This smile. This spark. This spirit. Jah I am missing you from this earthly plane we all love you. – MEGAN FERGUSON there never seems to be enough time… I don’t know if words can describe someone like Jah. He really was too special for this world. A true artist to his soul. I was lucky to call him my friend. Rest in Peace and Power Angel. you will be so dearly missed. – PAUL JAMES I guess I thought if I refrained from making a post, it would ease some of the pain.. but the more hours that pass, the more it sets in heavier. JAH. Mi familia. My brother. I am crushed. I have believed in you since the moment we met, and it makes me smile to know the feeling was 100% reciprocated. The purest soul. Always himself no matter WHERE he went. It takes courage to be that way you know? To have that strength. From Antigone to degrassi, to LA to NY you had EVERYTHING in you to shine. All the power, all the talent, all the intelligence the drive, the fearlessness. Your smile made me smile. Sweeterman jah, I miss you so much already. – SHANICE BANTON Dance on, old friend -through the clouds. I will see you on the other side. click here for the full post – SHANNON KOOK

#jahmil french #this took me forever but i wanted to make it pretty #he will be forever missed #:(#edit*#degrassi #idk why the scroll box isn’t showing up sigh I apologize for it being so long #dave turner

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i-will-physically-fight-you · 4 years

Text

Tightrope Fanfic

Title: Tightrope

Summary: Virgil feels lost. It’s not a foreign feeling, especially when one is the embodiment of Anxiety. But it feels like one as he stares down at a sniffling Roman in his arms. He doesn’t know what has happened. One moment, the others are having their spat about the wedding. The next, Roman barges into his room mid-breakdown and hasn’t left since.

Pairings: platonic prinixety

Word-Count: 2.9k

Warnings: Crying, Anger, Panic, Discussion of POF, Hurt/Comfort

This is a companion fic to Safety Net, but you don’t have to read that one to understand the context of this one <3

Virgil feels lost. It’s not a foreign feeling, especially when one is the embodiment of Anxiety. But it feels like one as he stares down at a sniffling Roman in his arms. He doesn’t know what has happened. One moment, the others are having their spat about the wedding. The next, Roman barges into his room mid-breakdown and hasn’t left since.

He keeps expecting the rug to be pulled out from under him. That perhaps this is some delayed April’s Fool joke. A ploy by Remus or one of the Others to fuck with him. His mind crafts a thousand possibilities, a thousand explanations for why this can’t be reality.

Because Virgil doesn’t know how to handle a Roman who fell from a great height and shattered completely. What if he cannot put the pieces back together again? What if he messes up and makes things worse? What if he’s the one to cause this in the first place?

No, he refuses to go down that spiraling thought pattern. Because if he unravels now, then he’ll be completely useless to Roman. He compartmentalizes the fear, stuffing it away to haunt him at a later date.

Roman’s cries have died down to a few hiccuping gasps of air. The ever-poised, ever-presentable Prince of Passion is anything but. He lays in Virgil’s arms, as limp and lifeless as a doll. His white princely jacket wrinkly and half-undone, red sash hanging loosely. Virgil cannot see his eyes from underneath his rumpled, messy hair but he’s willing to bet they’re bloodshot. Virgil bits his lips as he notes the dark ichor running down Roman’s cheeks like smeared mascara.

Roman has been in his room for far too long. Especially for someone who was already in a fragile emotional state upon showing up. Virgil shouldn’t have allowed him to stay. But he couldn’t find in himself to deny Roman, not when he’d looked at Virgil with a helpless terror in his eyes. So he had chosen instead to hold onto a sobbing Roman while trying to figure out what the hell happened.

The clock in his room is hardly reliable, but he’s certain at least an hour has passed and he’s still nowhere closer than he’d been at the start. Which is that it involves the stupid wedding, Patton and Deceit. The latter of which, apparently told them his actual name. He won’t know more unless Roman divulges more. And in the swirling storm of hysteria that is his room, the chances of that happening is slim.

Before he can let doubt rake its claws into him, he pulls Roman closer to his chest and syncs out. Roman realizes a moment too late what’s happening. He lets out a startled gasp, tries pushing away, but it’s too late. With a loud crackle, they appear in the gloomy fog of a dead forest.

Roman looks around, eyebrows bunched up together. If this was any other situation, Virgil might’ve smirked.

“It’s the imagination,” Virgil says, answering the question behind Roman’s bewildered gaze, “Or at least my little pocket of it. No one will find us here.”

Well maybe except Remus, the one responsible for its creation. Virgil is hoping that today will not be the day he decides to return here for the first time in years.

Roman opens his mouth to speak, yet hesitates halfway through. He turns his head away from Virgil, shrugging. Virgil’s cold dead heart plummets at this. Roman isn’t supposed to be this defeated. He’s supposed to be stubborn, obstinate, argumentative. Virgil knows how to handle that. He knows how to bait Roman into banter, to get him to admit the root of his problems. But this? He doesn’t know how to deal with a Roman this apathetic. And that scares him.

Virgil should apologize, he thinks. After everything that happened, he hunkered down in his room. He stayed away thinking his presence would only be detrimental than beneficial. He was Anxiety after all, flight or fight. In this case, he chose flight. But obviously, like everything else in his existence, that’d been the wrong choice yet again.

He inhales deeply, his breath hitching at the last moment, the words refusing to come out. They remain stuck in clumps inside his throat, refusing to solidify into verbal spoken words. The ghostly howl of the wind is the only sound between the two.

Then Roman laughs. It sounds more like a cat hacking up a hairball than his usual melodious chuckles. It’s loud, harsh and absolutely dripping with pain. Halfway through he ends up in a coughing fit. Virgil watches, unsure how to respond.

“You were right.” Roman croaks at last, sagging heavily against a tree.

Those words aren't what Virgil likes to hear. It’s never good when he, Anxiety, is right. He’d much prefer to be proven wrong. Even if that meant Roman lording it over his head for weeks on end. It’s annoying as hell and he never thought he’d miss that until now.

Virgil swallows, pushing the sudden ache in his chest aside. He doesn’t need confirmation to know what he was right about.

Still, his heart thudding heavily in his chest, he asks anyways, “About Janus?”

Roman nods, grimacing.

“Ro, what happened?” Virgil asks, unable to hold that question within himself any longer.

The fanciful side doesn’t respond at first. His hand traces the grooves of the bark on the tree he’s leaned against. His lips twist and contort, as if fighting to find the words to say. Virgil isn’t sure if he’s ever seen Roman ever at a loss for words until now.

“I thought it was a villainous trick at first. Just another ploy to get us to trust him. I made fun of it, even. It wasn’t until the way you reacted when I mentioned it to you that I thought otherwise,” Roman says, breaking in mid-conscious thought. Something that is very Roman-like, forgetting other people can’t read his mind. There must be something in Virgil’s face because he clarifies, “Deceit’s name I mean.”

“I mean, I don’t blame you,” Virgil says slowly, toying with his hoodie strings, “He never told any of the Others.”

“But he told you?”

Now it’s Virgil’s turn to stare at the ground. The ache in his chest returns, except it’s different. It’s like a fire-pit at a summer camp-out. It’s warm and comfortable to linger next to, but stay too long and you’ll be sweltering in the unbearable suffocating heat. The same goes for thinking about the past. That’s why he hates getting nostalgic. It’s hard to reminisce about the good times without remembering why they ended.

The old him that hasn’t been extinguished yet, the one that called himself Janus’ friend, is indignant that Roman apparently made fun of Janus’ name. However the newer him that calls himself Virgil and wears the purple hoodie, isn’t. Good, he thinks, he deserves it. And he isn’t too ashamed of feeling that way. Not after the raging forest fire that burnt down their friendship in the first place.

“Yeah.” Virgil breaths out with stifled lungs. He can feel Roman’s eyes burning a hole in his head. He thinks he’d find an unspoken question in them if he looks up. He doesn’t elaborate. He isn’t in the mood for scorching his tongue on the ashes of a cremated friendship. Especially when it’d shift the focus onto him and not Roman. Something he’s certain Roman wants despite it being so rare for him to flinch away from the spotlight.

For all their vast, stark differences, they aren’t really that different when it comes down to several things, one being that neither of them like showing weakness. They are also incredibly stubborn. It just so happens Virgil has the stronger resolve at this moment.

“I trusted him,” Roman says, continuing where he’d left off, “I trusted him, I thought he’d knew best and I just wanted--”

A huff cuts off Roman’s words as he flings his arms towards the sky. He paces in front of Virgil, muttering bits and pieces too quick for him to understand. Perhaps he does need to share a little. Just to help Roman know and understand he isn’t alone.

“Listen, I get it,” Virgil says, “I also trusted Janus once too--”

“No, it wasn’t Janus--well, yes, but--” Roman yanks at his hair, “I meant Patton!”

Patton? Virgil feels as if he'd been riding on the flying magic rug from Aladdin. Only the magic rug has been ripped from underneath him and now he’s freefalling into a waterfall full of sharp pointy rocks at the bottom.

He’d thought he knew where this conversation was heading except now he’s lost more than ever before. He needs a minute to breathe, to process what’s happening. Roman doesn’t give him that. He pushes on, shaking his head like a riled-up mistreated stallion from a horse girl movie.

“I wanted to do what was right for Thomas and--and Patton has always known what’s right, right?”

He gazes desperately at Virgil, searching for reassurance, for affirmation. Virgil’s heart sinks. He can't honestly give that to Roman, though he'd love to give Roman whatever his heart desires to stop his pain.

Patton tries his best, he really does. But even he is wrong sometimes. He has made mistakes, ones that have hurt Virgil himself both past and present. And although Virgil has forgiven him, it doesn’t change the fact that even their softest puffball isn’t always right.

He can tell Roman realizes that by the way his scowl grows bigger.

“Am I too dimwitted?” Roman growls, “Was I the only one foolish enough to believe that? Just like believing that I could truly be--be--”

He lets out a tormented scream, slumping down against a tree. Head bowed, knees drawn close, arms pulled tightly around himself. Virgil stands a few feet away, still so far from understanding as he was when Roman first appeared in his room. Only that apparently he needed to kick both Janus’ and Patton’s collective asses.

Virgil withholds a sigh as he crouches down next to Roman.

A gloomy fog hardly provides the best lighting. It’s better than the dark murkiness of his room, however, and it’s here that he notices something. A blueish-purple splotch of something. Just barely poking out of Roman’s collar. It’s then, Virgil remembers that a metaphoric “bruised ego” is anything but metaphoric for one metaphysical entity such as Roman, Creativity and Ego in one.

“Princey,” Virgil says, his voice unusually level, “did you get hurt by what happened earlier?”

Roman doesn’t answer his question. Not directly at least. “Lee and Mary Lee hardly spoke to Thomas at the wedding, did you know that?”

“Yeah,” Virgil bites his lips, “I knew that.”

It’s a rhetorical question. Of course Virgil knows--he’s a part of Thomas. He’d been with Thomas during the wedding. The leg bouncing up and down in an anxious jitter. Directing the eyes away from the merriment of the wedding and towards that pointless moronic mobile game. The clenching feeling in Thomas’ throat during the brief interaction with Lee and Mary Lee. He hadn’t even been able to say hello because of Virgil.

He’d tried so hard to hold back, to not torment Thomas with his decision anymore than his host had already endured. It didn’t really matter in the end. As Thomas finally slipped away from the wedding, so had Virgil slipped into his room. He ignored the muffled noises of the debate erupting outside the mindscape. Why show his face when Thomas already knew what his input would be? Or knowing what he’d once been, for that matter? Or at least, that had been his justifications at the time.

“Which hardly seems fair! After what I--Thomas sacrificed to be there for them. B-but it’d been the right decision, right?” Roman laughs, shaking his head. He doesn’t wait for an answer as he pushes on, “Was it too selfish to expect more? To think that making the right decision would result in an award?”

Virgil stays silent. Morality isn’t his forte; sure as Anxiety he often cautioned Thomas to follow societal rules. It’s often easier to go with the current rather than fight against it. So he’s hardly the most reliable source of it.

And as for his role, both the wedding and the call-back offered the same amount of dread. After all, he’s Anxiety. It’s literally his job to nitpick and point out every single thing a situation could go wrong, no matter how improbable or absurd. Unlike Roman, he’d be lying if he said he was surprised by the outcome of the wedding. It’s not far off from what he had predicted.

On the flipside, he could offer a million ways of how the audition could’ve ended poorly. A tear in Thomas’ pants mid-audition. Thomas blanking out on a crucial line. A meteor falling from the atmosphere and effectively crushing Thomas to death. Okay, that last one is highly improbable but it could still happen! You never know!

Regardless, he doubted any of that is what Roman needed to hear.

“I trusted him. He’d said it’d been the right decision when I made it. And I believed him.” Roman scoffs.

Virgil frowns, cautiously sitting a few feet away from Roman. He chooses not to look him in the eye, treating him as if he’s an easily-startled wild creature.

“Y’know, he and I are going through a bit of a rough patch. He’s trying his best, I know he is. But take it from me--sometimes someone’s best isn’t always good enough. And I think it’s okay if it...takes time for you to forgive Patton.”

“No!”

“No?”

“I mean,” Roman lets out a frustrated scream, “I don’t know! Before, there was a script, a stage, parts to play. Ones I had intimately memorized! But it’s as if it’s before the curtain rises before the opening show and the director has thrown out the script completely. He expects me after years of practice to perform something I’ve never seen--that even he has no concept of what it looks like and h-how is any actor expected to perform in such conditions?”

A light-bulb finally goes off in Virgil’s head.

“You’re...angry at Thomas, aren’t you?”

Roman flinches as he’d been struck, throwing his body backwards harshly against the tree. He looks hardly affected by it as he scrambles quickly to his feet.

“Wh-what? No! That’s absurd!” Roman protests, “I’m not angry at Thomas--”

“But you are,” Virgil interrupts, rising to his feet, “You’re angry at both Patton and Janus, yeah, but they’re just targets to throw your misplaced anger at. Because you don’t want to admit it’s actually Thomas--”

“Yes, because you’re wrong, Mary Mary Q-quite Misconstrued!” Roman puffs up his chest, trying to keep his head high, “I--I’d never, I can’t hate Thomas--”

“Whoa, I didn’t say you hated him,” Virgil says, gently tugging Roman’s hands into his own, “there’s a difference between being mad at someone for something, and hating them.”

Roman looks at him with almost a wild gaze to his eyes, so close to almost hyperventilating. Virgil can almost see the invisible cracks in Roman’s skin, his multitude of facades peeling away before Virgil’s eyes. He looks at Roman and sees himself.

“I used to think they were the same thing,” Virgil begins, “But they’re not. Hate is when you abhor ill will towards someone, when you wish them dead or worse. Anger...anger is just a form of fear. And it’s okay to feel and experience that anger, you don’t have to repress it.”

“I’m not scared of Thomas,” Roman scoffs, his gaze drawn to the forest floor rather than Virgil.

“But you are afraid that if Thomas can accept Janus and possibly Remus, then he could just as easily change his mind regarding you, right?” Virgil questions, “You’re afraid because all you've ever done has been in Thomas’ best interest and suddenly now you’re being told all it’s done is hurt him. You’re afraid but you don’t want to admit it, so you turn to anger instead because that’s better than being scared, right?”

“I’m not…” Roman trails off, clenching his jaw. Virgil is fully expecting to get punched by the way his body tenses up. Roman does lunge towards him just then, arms flailing out. Virgil doesn’t even have a chance to raise his arms up in defense before he gets an armful of blubbering prince once more.

“I’m supposed to be Thomas’ hero, he told me I was, but what if I’m not? W-what if I never was? And--and I have to be good, Virgil, I can’t be evil--”

Roman lets it all go then. It’s a tidal wave of anxiety and fears, of self-doubt and self-deprecation. Almost any other person would become overwhelmed by how much perturbation Roman’s kept hidden all these years. But Virgil is Anxiety, his realm is terror and trepidation. He’s experienced every fear-induced thought and more under the sun. He understands it better than perhaps anyone else ever could.

He knows Roman will most likely clam up after today. That later on, they’ll need to address these things in detail and take care of the bruises mottling his skin. Roman will need encouragement to rebuild his confidence and to turn away from self-destructive habits. Both of which are things that Virgil struggles with all too well. He knows it to feel as impossible as walking across a tightrope blindfolded. Right now, however, all Roman needs is for someone to listen.

And so listen Virgil does.

#thomas sanders #sanders sides #virgil sanders #roman sanders #prinixety #kat writes

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sombreboy · 4 years

Text

First love | yandere!virgin!jjk

▎ 18+ ▎ xtremity; 2 ▎ pairing: sub!jjk x femdom!y/n ▎ genre:smut ▎ word count: 3.2k ▎ warnings: sexual tension/pining, cursing, oral(f receiving), fingering, unprotected sex.

Request by anon: Could I request yandere virgin jungkook smut where hes in love with the reader who's a tattoo artist and one day they hook up?

He's been hopelessly in love with you for what feels like an eternity at this point, but in reality it has only been for approximately a year.

But it did feel like an eternity, so it might as well have been.

Jungkook first met you when he was looking to get his first tattoo, and ended up contacting your business to personally ask you about your work, and you had gladly tended to his needs and made him feel incredibly comfortable within the first few seconds. He knew, even when he'd simply only heard your voice, that he felt something.

And eventually he had gotten his first tattoo from you, and his second, and third...

As of now he had several tattoos covering his arms and hands, all from the one and only person he ever wants to mark his body with art.

He cherished every little piece you've created on his skin with every fibre of his being, feeling nothing but joy everytime he looks himself in the mirror.

Ever since you met Jungkook one year ago, he's grown into a handsome, confident man that you've grown fairly close to, probably because you've spent more time with him than any other client in your studio. Conversations were awkward at first, and he was very nervous, but quickly you made him feel at ease with your skills with the needles.

And with time, spending time together with this beautiful man, came the flirtation. He'd grown more bold lately, he's been working out a whole lot more. If his growth in frame was anything to go by.

Tonight you were about to definitely see this upclose.

Jungkook called you in the middle of the day, seemingly not as busy as you.

Before you could answer with your automatic work-response, he beats you to it,

''Y/N, I want to get another tattoo.''

You scoff, ''Another? You literally got one last week.''

You weren't wrong, he mused. But he was addicted to you. The pain from the needle, the touch of your hands. He craved it more than any drug.

''I keep your business running.'' He laughed, and you mirrored it. He always found ways to tease and make you laugh in one go.

''Well, what do you have in mind?''

''Surprise me.''

''Okay.. We can figure it out. Any idea where you'd want it?''

Jungkook ponders for a moment before whispering, ''Chest, maybe...?''

You inhale deeply from your nose at the thought, ''Chest... That one hurts a lot, kook. Are you sure?''

He groans internally at the thought, he really hoped it would hurt,

''I trust you. Are you free today? I can come by right now.''

You check your empty schedule, remaining silent for a second to make it seem like you were actually checking for an empty slot,

''Yeah, I'm free.''

Jungkook's lips curl up in a wide, teethy grin, ''See you soon, then.''

He hangs up, unable to wipe the stupid smile off of his face as he bounces with joy on his couch.

Loving you was the best thing in the world.

The bell chimed when Jungkook entered your studio, he scanned the surroundings, noticing that there was nobody else here but you.

He saw you sitting by your desk, working on a tattoo sketch with the utmost focus. He could tell by the way your tongue poked out to wet your lips, eyes fixed on the perfect lines you created on the paper, you didn't even notice when he came in.

Jungkook doesn't say anything, simply admires your beauty and professionalism. He felt so lucky to be in love with you, you were just perfect. Gorgeous. Smart. Everything he wants. Slowly, he sneaked closer to get a little peek on what you're working on, standing just close enough to lean over behind you to observe.

He inhales quietly, the smell of your clothes was his absolute favorite, the mild scent of laundry detergent. You rarely used perfumes, and for that his sensitive nose was thankful, and fell even deeper in love with you. Sometimes he'd even buy the same detergent to make sure his clothes smelled the same.

It isn't until Jungkook inhales in a little too hard through his nose due to an itch that you hear him, jumping in your seat with a yelp as you turn around to give Jungkook a fist to the cheek. whack!

''Fucking hell Jungkook, you scared the living shit out of me!''

You held your hand to your chest with widened eyes, looking at Jungkook whom was just as shocked as you by your reaction.

''Ouch, you're stronger than you look.'' Is all he said as he rubbed his reddened cheek, but smiled nonetheless. You punched him, but he wasn't even mad about it. He oddly... enjoyed it, another mark on his body because of you, reminding him that he's alive. That's really as deep as his love goes for you. The only thing making him feel truly alive.

''And you're a lot lighter in your steps than you look, fuck, are you okay?'' You stand up to remove his hand from his cheek to take a closer look at his cheek that now had a small cut from your ring-clad fingers.

He breathed out a chuckle, but inhaled just as quickly when you grazed his cheek with your fingertips. Your touch heated his body up with several degrees at an instant.

You noticed his subtle reaction, you always did, you were incredibly observant when it came to people. You weren't quite sure if it was because of the pain, or because of you, but a part of you kind of hoped it was the latter.

Growing bolder yourself, the pads of your fingers travelled down to his jawline, eyes fixed on the way the muscles danced underneath his skin when he clenched it.

He's definitely affected by you.

''Would you like to take a look?''

Jungkook swallowed, ''W-what?''

You withdrew your hand, and to that Jungkook had an internal protest at the loss of your touch.

''I finished the sketch for your tattoo.''

Jungkook relaxes slightly, a part of him disappointed. He thought you meant something else,

''Ah, yes. Let's check it out!''

You sat back down in your chair and Jungkook sat down in the seat for clients, expectantly waiting for you to roll over and show him. He grabs the piece of paper and inspects it, a smile growing on his lips.

''What do you think?''

He looks at you, teeth on full display in his sweetest bunny-like smile that creates small wrinkles in the corners of his eyes,

''I love it. Let's go!''

The buzzing sound of the needles digging into his skin was the only noise filling the room for a hot minute, but with time Jungkook's small grunts in pain joined in.

It was definitely a lot more painful than he expected it to be. However, being the glutton for pain that he is, he loved it. Especially since it was coming from your hands.

The buzzing stops and you look at him with furrowed brows, slightly rubbing your thighs together. His noises were getting a tad bit too erotic for your ears.

''Are you holding up okay, kookie? Need a break?''

He exhales deeply when you stop, a small layer of sweat had built up on his forehead and neck, making his skin glisten in the most delicious way as he looks up at you with half lidded eyes,

''I'm okay... I-is there a lot left?''

You shake your head, ''Almost finished, you've been doing so well.''

He shines at your praise, a light breathy chuckle rolling off of his lips. He might as well have had you between his legs at this point considering the state he's in. He had put his t-shirt over his crotch to hide his half hard cock, slightly embarrassed by how insanely affected he is by this.

''Okay, okay... Finish it please.''

You bite your lip, wondering if he really thought you were oblivious to his current state.

You weren't. But you said nothing, because you enjoyed the almost fucked out look on his face.

The buzzing continued, finishing off the piece as you listened to the weak, choked out whimpers he's trying so desperately to hold back.

''Voila! A masterpiece has been created.'' You practically beam out with pride as you put the needle down with one hand and wiping his skin with the other before inspecting it properly. His chest heaved up and down with shallow, ragged breaths as he looked down as well, a small smile on his lips when you await his reaction,

''I l-love it so much, wow!''

You nod, a wide smile once more on your lips as you cover his tattoo with the plastic to protect his skin.

''Now, you already know the routines of this, so I'm assuming I don't gotta do a reminder.''

He shrugs, ''I know how to take care of my tattoos, don't worry.'' Looking up at you, he winks, making you scrunch your nose a little before rolling closer to him on your chair. His smile drops when you lean closer to his ear to whisper,

''Are you just never gonna tell me how badly you want me?''

Jungkook coughs, choking on his own air,

''W-w-what?!''

You smirk, crossing your arms over your chest,

''You really think I'm that dumb? It's so obvious that you're a glutton for my needles, you're a complete mess every single time. And you keep coming back. Do you want me?''

His eyes widen, the cocky attitude he usually rocks completely washed off of him when your bluntness hits him like a truck, now blushing as he looks down in his lap, running his fingers through his hair several times as a common ritual of his during nervosity.

You tsk your tongue when he doesn't respond right away, making him raise his eyebrows in slight annoyance.

''I guess you don't... Well–'' You stand up and walk towards the entrance to have him leave, but before you're able to, his large hand grabs onto your wrist to yank your body against his, clashing your face into his chest with a thump.

''Fuck! What?'' You take a step back while looking up at him, his expression more stern this time, clearly annoyed but also slightly nervous. His tongue rolled on the inside of his cheek as if he's in thought while staring at your expression.

''Y/N, you're making such rash assumptions before you even let me answer... How rude.''

He cocks an eyebrow as a tease, taking one step closer to close the distance once more, feeling the heat radiate off of his bare torso. You feel your mouth salivate already.

''Rude, hm? Then answer me quicker.''

Jungkook pouts, blowing raspberries at you before leaning down slightly to stare directly into your eyes.

''Yes.''

''Yes?''

Jungkook licks his teeth, one hand carefully moving to smooth the pad of his fingers over your jaw down to your throat,

''I want you.''

His face falls as soon as he says so, softer and more genuine,

''But I have to tell you something then...''

You cup his face with your much smaller hands, lips barely grazing as you speak,

''You can tell me anything, kookie.''

His breath coats your lips when he exhales the words out quietly,

''I've never done this before.. I-I mean... y-yeah..''

You tilt your head, ''No way, you're not a Virgin.''

Jungkook chuckles, ''I'm serious.''

You gesture with a hand running down the skin of his torso down to the hem of his pants, ''Looking like this, you've never had anybody? It's quite unbelieveable Jeon Jungkook.''

He exhales a shaky breath at the way you used his full name, shuddering under your touch, ''I'd never lie to you, I mean it.. So, please..''

You quickly swap the 'OPEN' sign by the door to 'CLOSED' before pulling at the hem of his pants, leading him to the back of the studio. He gladly followed, loving your clear enjoyment of dominance over him.

Jungkook gasps when you suddenly turn around to press his back against the wall, looking up at him with a tiny smirk before crashing your lips against his. He seemed to be surprised, but with the way his hands quickly came to grab onto your waist to pull your body closer to his own, you could tell he was extremely into this.

He breaks the kiss, breathing heavier against your lips as he speaks,

''Y/N, I want you.''

You nod, your fingers already playing with the button of his pants as you stare at his newly tattooed chest for a second before smirking back up at him, ''I want you too. What else do you think we're doing right now?''

He smiles, kissing you once more before removing his pants with you, an already rock hard erection for you as he Breathes out a nervous 'hah',

''I really want you... But...I'm a little nervous.''

''Yeah? Why is that, kookie?''

He bites his lower lip, groaning quietly when your hands roam down his exposed abs to his pelvis,

''I-I really like you, and...''

You nod, ''I really like you too.''

He shakes his head, a shameless moan rolling off his lips as you pull down his boxers to stroke his length,

''Ah fuck–.. No, I mean... It's my first... My first time.''

You nod, stroking him gently, ''Your first time. I still can't believe you.

He nods, biting his lip as he watches your hand wrapped around his length with awe. You don't let go, slowly still pleasing him but your face was displaying disbelief,

''No way... I mean, look at you...''

He leans harder against the wall as he's slowyl losing his focus, shaking his head,

''I promise. I'd never- s-shit.. I'd never lie to you, Y/N..''

You smile a little at his state, stroking him a little faster, ''Yeah? You'd always tell me the truth?''

He nods, knees going weaker.

''Good to know.'' You ended the conversation there, withdrawing your hands to strip yourself off of all clothes. He stares at you with awe as if he's never seen a naked woman before... Of course he had, many times. But they weren't you.

As if he was possessed by new courage, he grabbed you to switch positions, now pushing you against the wall instead, pressing his hot body against yours as he starts kissing your neck, down to your breasts. You moan out for him, hands tangling into his dark locks as his kisses move down lower and lower until he drops to his knees in front of you. His doe eyes stare up at you, the way he smiles up at you with squinted eyes before closing the distance between his tongue and your cunt makes your entire body shake with excitement.

''Ah, Y/N... You're already wet.'' He whispers, a tone of both arousal and surprise. His tongue gets braver, more experimental as he slips it between your folds with greed. He was always greedy, and tried so hard at everything he did. This was no exception, ''You taste to good, shit...''

''Keep doing that, Jungkook, please... use your fingers.'' You command with a breathy voice. He loved when you used his real name, cock twitching from the way you told him what to do, and he gladly obeyed.

As you wished, he spread your legs further apart, never once letting his tongue leave your cunt as he pushes a finger inside of you. You hold onto his hair and lean back against the wall as leverage, grinding your hips against his mouth already. He adds Another finger, pumping them slowly in and out of you in a 'come hither' motion to hit that spot inside of you as he alternates between sucking and swirling his tongue around your clit.

''I-I'm gonna cum, keep doing that, oh god, fuck!''

He speeds up his tongue, but keeps his fingers rhythmic and deep as he works you over the edge, the orgasm hitting you like a wave as you moan out in pleasure, digging your fingers into his hair, making him moan out with you in both pain and pleasure.

Legs shaking, he holds your hips as he stands up to Place kisses on your lips.

''Did I do well?''

You nod with a scoff, ''Yeah, yeah you did well.. If you couldn't tell.''

He gave you a shit-eating grin, ''I just wanted you to say it... Now, I still...want more.''

You feel his aching, rock solid erection pressing against your stomach as he Breathes warmly against your lips.

''Are you sure you want this? I mean, with me?''

Jungkook frowns, pulling you into a hug where he kisses your cheek before whispering into your ear, ''I've never been so sure in my entire fucking Life.''

That being enough, Jungkook finally puts use to his strength to press you up against the wall, one of your legs pulled up by the back of your knee as he lines himself up with your sopping entrance, ''I've wanted this for so long.''

You figured he meant having sex in general, but he truly meant to finally have you. Claim you as his with his own body. Give you himself.

''Let me know if you like it differently...'' He says quietly, waiting for your nod as he resumes to simply do what he wants to, which is to waste no more time. He pushes his cock inside of you, drawing gasps and small moans from your and his own lips. He stops when he's filled you up completely, breathing out in bliss as he feels your warmth embrace his length,

''You feel so...s-shit...so tight..''

You smile, and he leans in to kiss you, sucking on your lower lip as he begins to thrust his hips against yours in a feverish greed. Your body feels so good, your cunt squeezing him, no fucking feeling could ever beat this one.

Well, for the next few minutes.

''You're so big, Kookie..'' You whimper, and his cock grew ever harder inside of you, hands holding onto you roughly as he fucks into you with all the power and energy as he's got, sweat building on his brow and shallow, heavy breaths mixing with his groans in pleasure.

''I'm gonna cum soon, Y/N, I'm s-sorry...''

You encourage him, squeezing your cunt around his cock as you feel his thrusts begin to lose their rhythm into a sloppy, hungry movement to chase his orgasm.

''Oh my god, I'm ... I'm cumming..'' He whines, giving a couple more hard thrusts before stilling inside of you, a guttural groan erupting from his chest as he fills you up with his cum.

You have your arms wrapped around his neck, sliding down the wall as he drops to his knees with you in his arms. You hug eachother, leaning against the wall with Heavy breaths and sticky bodies.

You withdraw to look at his fucked out expression, and he puts his forehead on yours.

''Y/N.''

''Hm?''

''I want you.''

''You just had me.''

No, not like that, he thought. He loves you. He needs you.

Jungkook chuckles, running his fingers through your hair as he sighs,

''And it was Amazing. Did I live up to your expectations?''

You squeeze his cheek between your thumb and index finger,

''Of course, you're gonna have to do it again though to make sure.''

He bites his lip, leaning in to kiss you once more. He was so addicted to you, he didn't even want to let you go right now, or ever,

''Round two? I swear you'll fall in love with me if you give me one more chance.''

''Round two it is.''

#yandere bts #yandere jungkook #bts smut #jungkook smut #jungkook imagine #jungkook scenario #sub jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook x yn

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a-duck-with-a-book · 3 years

Text

REVIEW // Nevernight (The Nevernight Chronicle, #1) by Jay Kristoff

★☆☆☆☆

So I’m very late to the party, but I just finished reading Nevernight by Jay Kristoff I had such high hopes for this series based off of what people recommending it had told me and what I read about it before picking up. Dark fantasy? Check. Strong leading lady? I’m here for it. Gays? It’s literally my only personality trait. Sign me up. Unfortunately, this book fell flat in all those categories. It reminded me a lot of Sarah J. Maas’s Throne of Glass, which made me take one point off of to begin with simply for making me think of Maas’s writing. Overall, I just found the book to be too predictable, with bad writing, exposition, and pacing, and too many parts that just made me ~uncomfortable~.

In case you are not familiar with this novel, Nevernight tells the story of Mia Corvere, a girl who lost her family when she was a child after her father was convicted of treason. When the book begins, she is 16 years old and embarking on a journey to join the Red Church, a school for assassins, so that she may one day be able to avenge her father’s death. Along the way she meets a bunch of forgettable characters whose names I can’t be bothered to remember and is taught by the most fearsome killers in the Republic. Here she gains many valuable skills, like how to survive being poisoned, how to fight, and how to get big boobs.

+ Side note: by chapter 3 three I started picturing Mia as the crow guy from RWBY and I could not shake that for the rest of the book

I had many issues with this novel that I will try to summarize in some sort of coherent fashion, but to be honest this book sucked the will to live out of me so I don’t know how much energy I can put into this review.

// image: official cover art by Jason Chan //

FOOTNOTES

The footnotes were probably the most jarring element of the book for me, and, unfortunately, there’s a lot of them. Their function seems to be twofold:

they are the form of most of the world-building, explaining several customs, the history of the institutions and peoples Mia meets, and the mythology followed by the people of the Republic.

they allow for the narrator of our story to interrupt with comical one-liners or cryptic foreshadowing

In my humble opinion, both of these are unnecessary and stupid. The interruptions come off as crass and immature and make the other more textbook, boring exposition come off as a joke, especially when it is dealing with sensitive or serious topics. There is one that explains this brothel called the Seven Flavors, which the footnote explains refer to “Boy, Girl, Man, Woman, Pig, Horse, and, if sufficient notice and coin was given, Corpse.” Now, on its own, this passing mention of pedophilia, bestiality, and necrophilia could very well contribute to the world building and tone of the novel, but when placed side by side with the childish, joking tone of the “cue the violiiiiiiiins” or, regarding the acoustics of a room, “…they were, as it happens, exceptional. Falalalalalalaaaaaaaa”, come off as way too light-hearted for the topic at hand. Maybe I’m being way too sensitive, but I’m pretty tired of authors using serious topics as off-hand remarks as a lazy way to make their world daker and grittier. Plus, these footnotes were just so incredibly cringy that I would recoil from second-hand embarrassment every time. They resemble the things I wrote when I was 14 and trying (and miserably failing) to be funny. Also… there are way too many of them. While at first I appreciated the attempt to deepen the lore of the story (I’m a sucker for world-building), after a while it became evident that the author was just forcing information down our throats without taking the time to actually weave the lore and background into the story itself. It came off as a very lazy way to force exposition.

OVERLY FLOWERY LANGUAGE

This story is BRIMMING with similes and metaphors, like every other sentence is some overly complicated way to describe something that could have been presented in three words. When you include so many metaphors/similes/etc., they begin to lose power. They should allow the reader to extrapolate more meaning and emotion from a sentence, but if the book is bursting at the seams with them, they become increasingly ordinary, to the point of losing all of their luster. One prime example appears on page 30:

“It was a bucktoothed little shithole, and no mistake. Not the most miserable building in all creation. [here there is a footnote about some other inn/brothel] But if the inn were a man and you stumbled into him in a bar, you’d be forgiven for assuming he had—after agreeing enthusiastically to his wife’s request to bring another woman into their marriage bed—discovered his bride making up a pallet for him in the guest room.”

So first of all what the fuck is that supposed to mean? That whole paragraph is a fever dream. Let’s begin with “bucktoothed little shithole”. Bucktoothed? Really? What does that mean. Please, someone explain to be right now what a bucktoothed building is. Is it uneven? Is it awkward? Is it half-finished? Is one side longer than the other? Did they do a bad paint job that only covers on side? Are the windows askew? Is the door too big for its frame? We already know from the paragraph above that it is “disheveled” as well, so why the need for another weird phrasing of its appearance? We then move on to that whole JOURNEY of a sentence, where the inn is compared to a man being cuckolded. That is the most insane tale-can you imagine running into someone in a bar and that story being the VERY FIRST thing that runs through your mind??? I know I’m focusing way too much on this stupid paragraph, but basically what I am trying to get at is that even though we spend half a page talking about how bucktoothed and disheveled and cuckolded this building is, we get no actual physical description of it. Imagine if Kristoff had just written that it was a run-down, ill-kept building that looked as worse for wear as its owner did. Done, one sentence. Great. Let’s move on. Instead, we spend so long reading these absolutely batshit descriptions that ultimately tell us next to nothing. Flowery language is placed over actual context. You may think that a description this long and complex means that this inn is a significant or recurring setting in the novel. Nope. It’s not. Mia leaves and that’s that. The reason that I’m focusing so much on this objectively irrelevant paragraph is because it is so representative of the biggest issue I have with the writing in this book. There are so many unnecessary comparisons that function only to make the author feel clever rather than add anything to the story at all. It’s very à la 2010s Tumblr.

THE (IN MY OPINION, BAD) WRITING

For the first half of the book, we are constantly being TOLD things rather than being SHOWN things. With the exception of one of the teachers cutting off Mia’s arm, we rarely see the ruthlessness that the assassins are so feared for, but we hear about it in nearly every other sentence Where are the consequences? I think this book would have been way more enjoyable if there were actually consequences to the characters’ actions. The inclusion of the weaver and the weird vampire guy completely remove any tension regarding the fate of the central cast. When Mia had her arm chopped off, I was shocked, and pleasantly surprised. How was she going to overcome this unexpected obstacle in her training? Then a couple pages later, its reattached with absolutely no lasting consequences. All of the initial tension and shock value of the loss of Mia’s arm is entirely removed because of the two incest-y siblings. Their entire purpose for existing is just to undo all damage to the main characters. Then suddenly, out of the blue, Mia is willing to take on a ton of consequences and completely throw away her chance at becoming initiated in order to avenge her family just to save Tric from receiving like one punishment??? Like why?? As an aside, the only moment I truly enjoyed was when Ash fucking stabbed Tric to death. I assume that when the reader’s favorite moment is one of the central characters’ death, it does not bode well for their reception of the book.

THE THEMES

TW: rape-y subjects

The author seemed a little too keen to include rape and sexual assault in his story. Mia withdrew her consent in the sex scene in the very first chapter, and even if you read it as consensual (which I do not), it is described as incredibly unpleasant on her end. Tric is the result of a rape, which is brought up several times throughout the story. Further, Mia is constantly facing harassment from men. I understand that this is frames the idea that the world she lives in is misogynistic and ruthless, but there are other ways to push that idea through other than constantly putting in her in those situations. As in, this didn’t need to be the ONLY way we explored this subject. Beyond the uncomfortable propensity for sexual assault, I also very much disliked the sexualization of the 16-year-old main character. Oh. My. Gosh. Mia is CONSTANTLY sexualized. Every single damn character makes comments about her body, how hot she is, how much sex she potentially has. It is so weird and uncomfortable. I feel the need to reiterate that she is SIXTEEN. There is, however, a focus placed on the power Mia can gain from seducing her targets. Girl power? Not to me, really. The issue I have with this is the idea that a woman has to be overtly sexual in order to be considered powerful. This is something that we can see in many female assassins and supposedly powerful female characters in fiction (like Black Widow) especially those written by men. Now, there is nothing wrong with using one’s sexuality as a weapon, and I’m certainly not saying that a strong female character cannot be sexual, but the idea that a sixteen-year-old girl is shown having her body painfully modified tp be more desirable, and in a graphic sex scene with another character, in order to for the reader to read her as liberated and powerful does not sit well with me. I don’t really feel like this aspect of her training should be relevant to the overall story. I wish the time that Kristoff had dedicated to hammering into our heads that Mia is a femme fatale to developing her Darkin powers instead. The way she is written now feels more like she is a faux strong female character written for a male audience.

Secondly, Mia is fully written as “the plain-girl-who-is-actually-pretty”. This whole trope bothers me IMMENSELY. YA is full of girls who are described as plain, forgettable, or ugly while their physical descriptions are just the dictionary definition of conventionally attractive. It seems like a way to market off of girls’ self-consciousness while still being able to market the main character as a hot heroine in official art. And there is, of course, the issue of Mia’s boob job Readwithcindy (just “withcindy” now!) did a whole video about this so I won’t get into it much just to repeat what she already said, but I agree that the idea of a 30-something year old man including this completely unnecessary detail regarding the sexualization of teenage girl, who we have ALREADY seen in a rape and being sexualized by other men in the story, made me really, really, uncomfortable. I highly recommend you go watch her video, as she touches on this in way more detail. [Cindy's video

RATINGS

Worldbuilding: ★★☆☆☆

A lot of thought obviously went into the world-the mythology, society, and politics are well-thought out. But the way they are introduced is annoying and bland. It seems like the author put a lot of effort into constructing this world but realized a lot of it would be left out of the book, so he crammed it into footnotes instead.

Tone and writing style: ★☆☆☆☆ for first half, ★★★☆☆ for second half

The tone of the first half is all over the place, like it doesn’t know if it should be dark and gritty or comical and immature. Footnotes and character dialogue ranges from lighthearted and crass to seeped with themes of torture and sexual assault. It is jarring, to say the least, and often feels like the author doesn’t take these ideas of rape or violence seriously. There are so many instances where the scene is tense or gritty, and Kristoff is actually writing it pretty well, I’m enthralled and on the edge of my seat, and then Mia or some other character (or the footnotes) throw in some stupid comment or make the same “Mia is such an asshole lol” joke for the billionth time and completely ruin the mood of that scene. The second half of the book moved much faster and was helped with way better writing, but it really did not do enough to make up for the horrendous structure of the first half of the book.

Pacing and structure: ★☆☆☆☆

The first half of the book really drags on. Once we arrive at the school, there are constant jumps in timeline, marked with periods when a thousand things happen all at once and the plot moves forward at a dizzying rate, and others when the characters just seem to be going about their daily lessons.

Concept: ★★★☆☆

I found the overall idea of the books to be very interesting, even though it is certainly not the most original or unique concept for a YA fantasy book. The issue is that the potential is squandered with a poor execution.

Characters: ★☆☆☆☆

I truly did not care about any of the characters. The token mean girl, the bumbling nice-guy-who-is-definitely-the-love-interest. too many of the characters just sat nicely within their tropes, doing nothing much to pique my interests. I think my favorite overall was Mister Kindly.

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bubbyleh · 4 years

Text

like real people do

It's not often that Dr. Bubby finds himself at a loss for knowledge.

As the perfect scientist, he has basically all the information he would ever need inside of Black Mesa. He knew the purpose of every lab, all the equations they used, a complete layout of the Black Mesa facility... It had all been programmed into his mind sometime during his development, though files from that time were something Bubby was explicitly denied access to.

So, for the first few years of his life, Bubby was incredibly well-versed in all things Black Mesa. As time went on, he picked up things about the outside world. At first it was small things, like a song or a location. But completely by chance, a scientist turned the corner from the break room too fast and ran directly into Bubby, spilling his soda all over him.

"What the hell!?" Bubby had fumed, staring down as his drenched shirt. "Watch where you're going!"

"Oh, goodness! I do apologize for that!" the other scientist stammered. "Let me go get you some napkins!"

Looking up, Bubby was struck by the man before him. He was nowhere near as tall as Bubby (who was?), but there was obvious muscle under his lab coat, and those eyes... they looked so kind. Though he didn't realize it at the time, Bubby would look back and realize the thing he felt was attraction.

He was back in the break room before Bubby could react, but true to his word, he did bring napkins with him on his return.

That was how Bubby met Dr. Coomer.

Coomer had offered to front the quarter Bubby would need for the washing machine in the Black Mesa dorms, which Bubby took as an opportunity to have all of his clothes laundered at no cost to himself. Coomer had laughed at this, and Bubby couldn't explain the surging feeling in his chest when he did. He also couldn't explain why he kept talking to Coomer, regaling him with stories that made him seem intelligent! Bubby sat on one of the unused washing machines, which Coomer was leaning onto. They only realized the passing time when the machine beeped, signalling that Bubby’s clothes were clean.

At that point, Bubby's heart had dropped. He shoved his clothes into a dryer, started it, and left with only a flimsy excuse.

They weren't happy about that one. But Coomer and Bubby kept finding excuses to skip out on work to hang with each other, so eventually they were made lab partners.

Coomer would never hesitate to share information about the surface with Bubby. During their early mornings, while they drank their coffee, Coomer would recite verbatim (as best Bubby could tell) the happenings in his favorite movies and television shows. He liked following along to the dramas Coomer would tell him about, to the point where he could hold his own in a discussion without ever having seen an episode.

It was, after all, its own form of knowledge. And like all knowledge, Bubby reveled in it.

Which is why, fifty-some odd years later, Bubby is completely out of his depth.

Bubby’s been out—free, he’s been free—for a week. Sure, he wasn’t expecting his first experience in the real world to be at Chuck E. Cheese’s, but he wasn’t complaining. Because there was something so normal about eating subpar pizza at your friend’s birthday party, Bubby was fine enough that it wasn’t “special” in any way.

But sitting across from Dr. Coomer, Bubby realized something.

They’d been together for the better part of four decades, and they had never even been on a real date before.

Which Bubby thinks is justified, all things considered! It’s not like he was allowed to leave Black Mesa property, and underground research facilities aren’t exactly known for their nice eateries. What were they supposed to do, just ask the administration if their super secret lab-grown power man could leave for a night only because he wanted to have dinner somewhere?! That would just be asking for the tube.

It’s not like they didn’t make do, though! There had been quite a few occasions where, during a late night, Coomer had snuck down a bottle of wine for the two of them to share. Bubby would push down the stinging shame he felt every time, because Coomer deserved someone he could go out with. But for some unimaginable reason, he had chosen Bubby.

So, a week after their escape from Black Mesa, Bubby does research. He finds as much media as he can about dates, mostly coming back with romcoms. He read articles and blogs online about how to have the perfect first date. A lot of these guidelines seem to make assumptions about how well people on dates knew each other. But, well, if it’s what you’re supposed to do…

It takes about two days of doing nothing but binging romcoms, but eventually Bubby decides that his notes are satisfactory. He’s managed to narrow down what he calls the Expected Questions, or, the questions that are apparently required on a date. And Coomer has to know about them, because, hello? He’s been through this all before. The man’s been married before, Jesus.

And then there’s Bubby. He’s gonna mess this all up, isn’t he?

The thought of that almost makes him snap his note-taking pencil.

Around hour forty-three, Coomer pops his head into the room Bubby has tentatively claimed as his study (he’s not used to being able to claim rooms, let alone ones as frivolous as a study). He looks worried.

“Bubby, dear,” Coomer says, his tone wavering a little. “I’m all for the advancement of scientific research, or whatever it is you’re doing.” Right. Coomer can’t know what’s going on in here. “But, perhaps you would like to come down and eat? It’s almost time for lunch.”

Oh. Lunch. And food in general. That thing people need to eat in order to live. Bubby hasn’t eaten since around hour thirty-one, when he snuck some yogurt from their kitchen. Yeah, he could eat.

“Uh, okay. Sure,” Bubby stands, trying to ignore the dizzy feeling. He’s not used to having so much free time, apparently, since he’s forgetting to eat.

Which, hey, another thing. It seems a little stupid, but Bubby thinks their whole relationship is going in the wrong order. Like, they haven’t even been on an actual first date yet, but they’re already living together? But in another sense, they’ve been together for thirty-six years, and they’re only now moving in with each other? In all the romcoms Bubby just watched, there wasn’t anything remotely close to that.

So maybe they’re doomed already?

It’s something Bubby thinks about while he eats the wonderful grilled cheese that Coomer prepared for him. Seeing the way that Coomer looks at him, though, smiling brighter than the sun felt the first time Bubby ever stepped foot outside… Well, Bubby can’t help but want to try anyway.

♡♡♡♡♡

It takes three more days for Bubby to work up the courage to actually ask Coomer to go out. Which is the dumbest thing ever, but hey! This is a big deal for him!

They’re spread out on the couch watching Rocky II, which was Coomer’s suggestion. Bubby is honestly sick of watching movies, but he’s not about to admit to what he was getting up to during his over forty-hour research binge. Besides, he gets to lay down in Coomer’s lap, which is nice.

This is another example of their relationship being completely out of order, but Bubby chooses not to think about it.

“You know what I was thinking?” Bubby asks during a lull in the action.

Coomer gives him a wry smile. “When aren’t you thinking, professor? I swear, that head of yours must go a mile a minute.”

“Doctor,” Bubby corrects automatically. “But really.”

“Okay then, Professor Bubby,” Coomer chuckles to himself. “What were you thinking?”

“I don’t know who Professor Bubby is, but Doctor Bubby was thinking we should go out to dinner sometime. Like somewhere fancy.”

Coomer hums. “You know, I was thinking the same thing. I've always wished we could go someplace nice together.”

"Well, they do say great minds think alike," Bubby smirks.

"But fools rarely differ," Coomer presses a kiss to Bubby's forehead. "You make me feel like a lovesick fool, did you know that?"

Oh!

"You old sap!" Bubby laughs at Coomer. But he pulls him down to kiss him anyway.

♡♡♡♡♡

Coomer catches Bubby staring at himself in the mirror just before they head out. It's the suit, really. It made sense to buy, after all, going to an upscale restaurant kind of requires one. But actually wearing it, is…

It's jarring. It's like everything he never thought he'd be.

"Are you alright, Bubby?" Coomer asks him. "You know I don't care if you dress nice tonight. You could wear one of your turtlenecks if you'd like."

Bubby shakes his head. "Harold, I absolutely love this suit."

♡♡♡♡♡

Bubby does certain things to prepare for their date. Nothing too drastic, no. He's not going to have, like, Tommy or someone feed him lines from an earpiece or anything like that. No, all Bubby does is script out everything he's going to say for the entire date. God, it's such a simple and ordinary thing to do! Okay!?

So they sit across from one another, at a candlelit table next to a window. It's romantic, more romantic than anything they ever did at Black Mesa. Which isn't saying much, but truly, Bubby can't complain.

"This is a fine establishment, Harold," Bubby notes, keeping on script. "How did you find this place?"

"Well, you see, my dear Bubby," Coomer starts but god, the word "dear" alone is making Bubby want to burn the whole restaurant down as a symbol for his love. "I used the internet! It’s quite a useful tool, don't you think?"

Ah, a question! Luckily, Bubby has accounted for just this situation, and the tactic is not something he’s unfamiliar with. “I’ve found it to be helpful, yes.”

The good old agree card. Works every time.

But! Bubby needs to get back on track. This is a very important date, and Bubby can’t just let himself forget that! Time for the most basic of lines.

“So, Harold,” Bubby finds himself saying after they’ve ordered. “How was your day?”

Nice. Good. Perfect. Amazingly spectacular.

Coomer laughs. “We were both home all day, Bubby. You tell me!”

Right shit damn it a garbage fire.

“Fuck,” Bubby says before he can stop himself. And when he realizes that he let that slip, he lets his head fall into his hands and groans. “I’m fucking this all up, aren’t I?”

“Er, Bubby dear, are you alright?” Bubby feels Coomer grab onto one of his arms. “Is… is this too much for you? Drat, I knew we should have worked up to this. We could go home, if you’d like.”

Bubby’s head shoots up. “No!” he says, forcing the word out as fast as he can. He takes a deep breath, then grabs Coomer’s hand. “No, I’m fine. I want to be here.”

“Then what is it?” Coomer asks, and damn it, he’s not supposed to be worried! Nobody is supposed to be worried for Bubby, not like this! He’s used to the medical kind of worry, where the other party’s concern was more for their career than Bubby himself, always talking about him like he couldn’t hear, ignoring his presence except for when they needed him. But Coomer…

Coomer was never like that. Even when he found out about the tube, and the prototypes, and the medical evals and everything… Coomer still loved him. Which meant the world to Bubby, who, for his whole life, thought himself unlovable. And when Coomer looked at him, he didn’t see something immoral that shouldn’t exist, or something that needs to succeed, lest it be cast out like the others, he just saw Bubby.

Bubby loves him. And he thinks he can afford to be a little less than a genius around Coomer.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” Bubby admits, and damn it, why is the world suddenly blurry? He’s wearing his glasses and-

Oh.

Bubby realizes that he’s crying.

“Sorry, fuck,” Bubby chokes back a sob. Coomer squeezes his hand. He’s talking through his other hand, which is covering his entire lower face. “I’m not… Shit, I didn’t think it would go like this. I don’t know how to do a… date. I wasn’t supposed to do stuff like that, so they never programmed it into my head but… I just want to do normal person things like go on dates with you.”

“Normal?” Coomer remarks, and Bubby can see he’s trying very hard not to laugh.

“Oh no, go ahead,” Bubby still manages to be snarky even while he’s breaking down. “Please make fun of me while I’m crying and being emotionally honest. It really helps.”

“Sorry, sorry!” Coomer at least has the decency to look apologetic. He reaches to hold Bubby’s other hand as well, which he is so graciously allowed. “It’s just… did you think I would be with you if I wanted normal?”

Bubby is taken aback.

Huh.

“I… suppose you’re right,” Bubby admits, and he can feel the worst of his feelings going away. It feels a little empty now, without it. “I do still want to try this date, though.”

The look Coomer gives Bubby is so wholesome and accepting that Bubby believes for a moment that he’s died and this is the face of an angel. It’s so powerful that he actually manages to forget, if heaven and hell are real, then he definitely isn’t going to heaven.

Coomer is happy to immediately launch into explanation mode. “Well, first things first, for a date, you should begin by talking.”

Bubby can’t help but smile at the man he loves. “Talking,” he repeats.

“Yes,” Coomer nods at him. “Tell me, Bubby. What do you want to talk about tonight?”

♡♡♡♡♡

It’s in the parking lot after their meal that Bubby comes to his conclusion about dating.

“I don’t see what the big deal about that was!” he rants as he and Coomer get into the car. “We could have done that at home! All the movies and stuff hyped it up.”

Coomer, thankfully, ignores his comment about movies. “Well maybe next time, we can just make some good food at home.”

Bubby rolls his eyes. “And who is going to make all that food? I don’t remember you being a chef, Harold.”

Coomer just beams at him. “We’ll order some takeout! What do you think? Perhaps next time we will order some Chinese food!”

This is the man he’s in love with, and Bubby smiles to himself. Chinese food sounds nice.

#hlvrai #half life vr but the ai is self aware #dr coomer #dr bubby #hlvrai boomer #my writing #like real people do

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candythemew · 4 years

Note

OkLach headcanons?

Now you’re speaking my language! (Oh! And if anyone wants to ask me about headcanons about them with their skekling please send your asks my way! This is just gonna be main canon HC’s)

𝔚𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢 𝔢𝔩𝔰�� 𝔱𝔬 𝔰𝔱𝔞𝔯𝔱 𝔟𝔲𝔱 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔟𝔢𝔤𝔦𝔫𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤?

✰ ︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧- - - - -୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵✰︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧- - - - -୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ✰

First off, when the Skeksis were young still finding the specific role, niche, and place that they fit into as they asserted their authority over Thra, SkekOk and SkekLach absolutely HATED each other. SkekLach saw SkekOk as a pathetic weakling who used his silver tongue and quick wit to charm the gelfling and other skeksis to do his bidding, and to buy into his way of thinking. Convincing people to do things they wouldn’t do normally through flattery and shallow promises. She didn’t like his pompous attitude and held more respect for the beings of Thra who put their thoughts into action like her. Ones who thought tactically, but weren’t afraid to take risks. She didn’t see what anyone saw in him. All she saw was just another one of the Emperor’s lapdogs. Spitting lies and weaving tall tales to uplift himself above the rest.

SkekOk however saw her as a brutish barbarian! Her avarice knowing no bounds as she raged and pillaged all those who stood in her way. Nothing befitting of a Lord of the Crystal. The gelfling worshiped her like a goddess, no doubt like they did the rest of his peers. But he saw the fear in their eyes. If the skeksis were going to rule properly, they must first create a level of relationship and trust between their subjects. Not fear. Although he himself was prone to flights of fancy, he found her ambitions foolish at best, and dangerously compromising to the empire at worst. Be it her insistence on the thrill of a good raid, or trying her hand at taming one of the most fearsome of beasts of Thra; The Arduff. He couldn’t stand it. Her amazonian demeanor made The Scroll-Keeper see her as nothing more than a ruthless brute. But at the same time, there was a tad bit of jealousy there. As many of his peers saw her as incredibly desirable and beautiful. As well as incredibly wealthy… Some had even attempted at winning her hand; only to be quickly shot down and berated by her. If he was being completely honest, he craved the attention that she received. She was always center of attention. At the time, she was the Emperor’s favorite. This jealousy led him to talk poorly of her behind her back. He stayed far from her as he spread rumors about The Collector in hopes to ruin her reputation. Although ironically over time, as they were forced to work with each other and face various trials with one another they developed a mutual trust after proving themselves to one another. And even saving each other’s lives a few times! If either of them were to be told at this point that they were going to eventually fall for each other, they would have laughed straight in your face! What a foolish thought? Why would I love them?! ✰ ︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧- - - - -୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵✰︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧- - - - -୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ✰

Their relationship went in an order similar to this:

Hatred ➺ Reluctant Respect ➺ Acquaintances ➺ Friends ➺ Mutual feelings ➺ Lovers ➺ Mates. ✰ ︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧- - - - -୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵✰︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧- - - - -୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ✰

𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔩𝔦𝔱𝔱𝔩𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰:

SkekOk tries to give SkekLach little reasons to keep her chin up. He reminds her to take care of herself and gives her little bits of advice to improve her life. Sometimes he’ll ask for her help for small tasks so she has something to do since she dosn’t have the same motivation she used to before her illness took over most aspects of her life.

SkekLach is the reason why SkekOk isn’t a dog person. One word. ARDUFF! SkekLach will intentionally follow SkekOk around his library and mess with his things if she feels like he hasn’t given her enough attention.

SkekOk suffers from narcolepsy, So SkekLach is there for him to make sure he arrives to meetings on time, or carry him to another room if she finds him asleep somewhere.

Insulting each other is a regular occurrence between them. Although neither of them have any ill intent towards each other when they do it. It’s like a game to them! Light hearted banter that calls back to their youth before they fell in love. Hence why SkekLach isn’t hurt when SkekOk says she was “NEVER BEAUTIFUL!” and then affirms is with a “Nevaaah~” if you pay attention to the scene, SkekLach can be seen laughing alongside him, even though she’s the butt of the joke. They’re both genuinely having fun bickering. I also personally like to HC that most Skeksis find simple gestures of affection peculiar and strange. Like everything in a skeksis’s life, gestures of affection are showy and grandiose. But OkLach’s more subtle and slow approach confuses their peers. They can make each other laugh very easily. They know how the other ticks. One of the things that made skekOk fall in love with hre was SkekLach’s ability to make him genuinely laugh his lungs out! His teasing can also cause a similar reaction. SkekOk’s laughs arranging from childish giggling, to incoherent teary eyed laughter! Although not as strong as she used to be, the other skeksis are still wary of SkekLach due to her past reputation. Also because she’s not afraid to give you a disease if you REALLY tick her off. She acts as sort of a bodygaurd or wall for SkekOk when he shoots his mouth off or gets in trouble. Nobody’s going to get him except through her! ✰ ︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧- - - - -୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵✰︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧- - - - -୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ✰

𝔓𝔥𝔶𝔰𝔦𝔠𝔞𝔩 𝓐𝔣𝔣𝔢𝔠𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫:

Intertwining tails is a very very intimate thing in Skeksis culture. It shows that you genuinely care for your friend/partner and that you enjoy their presence. For a human it would be kind of like a really good hug. But sadly, SkekLach lost a part of her tail long ago. So doing this is near impossible for them to do unless they’re sitting right next to each other or laying down beside one another in bed. Instead, they have adapted to holding hands like the Gelfling do. Be it for comfort, taking a walk together, or just to feel close. Heck! They do it so frequently that sometimes they don’t even realize they’re doing it! It’s become somewhat of an involuntary habit for them. When they sleep together, they like to cuddle. SkekLach is the big spoon. Sleeping is hard for her, (I personally HC that she has insomnia) but she sleeps better if she has something to hold on to. Thankfully SkekOk likes being held so this arrangement is perfect. It’s just comforting for both of them.

They don’t “Kiss” often. I think you can imagine why. Pustules leak and it’s NASTY

The Scroll-Keeper sometimes has the habit of resting his head on top of The Collector’s when he’s tired. Neither of them have much hair to preen anymore, but sometimes when they’re alone, in their more intimate moments; skekLach will take off her cowl for skekOk to preen her mane. Her hair has a coarse texture. It’s color mostly grey with small streaks of a faded black. Salt and pepper if you will. It’s a small bit of beauty she still retains even in her disgusting, decrepit state. However, it’s only for his eyes as she’s very self-conscious. ✰ ︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧- - - - -୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵✰︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧- - - - -୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ✰

𝕷𝖔𝖛𝖊 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝕸𝖆𝖗𝖗𝖎𝖆𝖌𝖊~♪ ♫ ♩

SkekOk and SkekLach are mates. And they have been a mated pair now for the past 400 years. If the Skeksis care to have any sort of marriage/mating ritual, they have done it. You bet your bottom dollar that it was extravagant! A true fairy tale... They can only see each other as life partners and want to make sure that everyone else knows it. Especially SkekLach. Who is known to be dreadfully greedy of her most valuable possessions...

Much like how many birds mate for life, Skeksis do too. Although being a rather (for lack of a better word) promiscuous race, this is rare. If two develop a strong enough bond, they’ll stick together in an attempt to feel whole. Only sticking with said mate for the rest of their lifetime. However long that may be. Their much more steadfast and patient Mystic counterparts also share this trait. (By “their” I just mean the race as a whole. Nobody specific.) Ok and Lach have their own chambers made for themselves. But they also have a shared bedroom that they occasionally sleep in together from time to time.

SkekOk is a hopeless romantic, and SkekLach couldn’t care less when it comes to flowery poetry. But she admires his passion to his interests. Something she lost desire for in her own life. The Scroll-Keeper will occasionally write her poetry and love letters expressing his feelings to her. Sometimes, in return, she will write him something back. Although riddled with intentional grammar mistakes and poor spelling. Sending him into a flustered angry mess as he corrects her. Only to find something even worse written down as he continues. He’ll read these aloud for all to hear. SkekLach likes to see the reactions he’ll have to her writing. What can she say? He makes her laugh. ✰ ︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧- - - - -୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵✰︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧- - - - -୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ✰

𝓢𝔞𝔡 ℌ𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔠𝔞𝔫𝔬𝔫𝔰 𝔲𝔫𝔡𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔠𝔲𝔱: ︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧- - - - -୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵✰︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧- - - - -୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

SkekLach’s death hit SkekOk harder than anyone will ever know. She was a part of him. She was his closest friend, and the love of his life. His mental health suffered immensely from her loss, and he was never truly able to grieve her properly and move on. Instead, over time he developed an unhealthy coping mechanism of talking to himself for hours on end. He pretended that she never left his side. “No gelfling trick could have ever gotten the best of me!” She would boast... Eventually he started to hear her voice in whispers... He could swear he could hear her voice from just beyond the hall... Down the corner in her chambers! Only to find an empty room devoid of anything but dusty old trinkets and bittersweet memories. Other times he would hear the distinct metal clang of her blades against her opponent’s weapons as he would wander the now garthim-filled training rooms. He could hear a younger, much more determined tone! Calculated and precise. Once again to wander in and find nothing but empty training grounds chock full of the dark arthropodan soldiers. But it was the nights that were the hardest. On cold starless nights, laying alone in his decadent yet lonely chambers, he would lie alone for hours on end, eyes closed as he tryed to let the soothing grasp of sleep claim him... In the uttermost difficult moments as he drifted off to sleep, He could swear that he could feel her arms wrapped around his scrawny frame. Tails intertwined as she softly whispered a tired “I love you.” Gently leaning her head on his shoulder, The Scroll-Keeper let out a sigh of relief as he fell sound asleep in the arms of his lover... Only to be greeted with an empty bed as he rose once again the next morning. Truly cementing the fact of how alone and incomplete he truly is. He only wishes for these delusions to stop and yet... He can’t bear to let her go... ✰ ︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧- - - - -୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵✰︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧- - - - -୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ✰ Sometimes these hallucinations can get so bad that he’ll fall into manic babbling fits where the voices of not only her, but all sorts of beings from his past will haunt him. After these spasms, he returns to his work or simply passes out due to exhaustion. He apologizes for his random outbursts should someone he cares about see him in this state. If he even remembers they were there at all. ✰ ︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧- - - - -୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵✰︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧- - - - -୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ✰

Remember when I said that skeksis mate for life? Well that grief an animal or human might face hits just as hard to a stone-hearted, cold blooded skeksis as it would to any man. That sorrow that SkekOk faced upon SkekLach’s sudden death caused him immeasurable psychological and emotional damage. As the Skeksis are naturally selfish beings. Besides the support he would receive from his lifelong friend SkekEkt the Ornamentalist, not many were there to comfort him. If The Scroll-Keeper were able to relive one last day with The Collector, even for just a moment. He would do it in a heartbeat. Savoring every second like it was his last day on Thra. ✰ ︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧- - - - -୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵✰︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧- - - - -୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ✰

Although she doesn’t admit it to anyone else, disguising her distaste of herself under a veil of irony and self deprecation, SkekLach has issues with loving herself. She constantly reminisces over “The glory days.” The skeksis are a dying race and she knows it. They can’t fool her. And on that topic, she’s the worst of them on that regard. Due to her hideous appearance and the immense emotional and physical pain she endures everyday, sometimes she wonders if SkekOk even loves her at all. Is he only staying with her because he has to? Out of obligation, or does he just pity her? Does he wish she were like the skeksis she was all those centuries ago? She struggles with this fear more than she’d like to admit.

SkekLach feels extremely insecure about the fact that she can’t intertwine her tail with SkekOk’s due to her traumatic injury that left her with only half of her tail remaining. SkekOk, having a much longer flexible tail will often try to wrap it around her waist if they’re sitting right next to each other. The feeling is bittersweet, but much appreciated. ✰ ︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧- - - - -୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵✰︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧- - - - -୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ✰ In the main timeline, SkekOk and SkekLach did attempt at having a baby. But since the skeksis are completely infertile in that universe, they yielded no results. They keep a small handmade doll in their shared bedchambers of what could’ve been the skekling that they had wanted so badly. Its not much, but it helped them cope and move on. ✰ ︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧- - - - -୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵✰︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧- - - - -୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ✰

𝔗𝔥𝔞𝔫𝓀 𝔜𝔬𝔲 𝔣𝔬𝔯 ℜ𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔦𝔫𝔤! - ℭ𝔞𝔫𝔡𝔶𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔐𝔢𝔴

#OkLach #SkekOk #SkekLach #the dark crystal: age of resistance #Dark Crystal Headcanon #SkekOk x SkekLach #skeksis #The Dark Crystal #skekok the scroll keeper #SkekLach the Collector

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