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softyoongiionly · 4 years

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Portraits of a Tiger|| 01

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: 12k

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).

Current Tag List: @bulletproofbirdy @gldnrecs @naajix @bluewhale52 @nikkikenji @lustedkisses

A/N: oh okayyyyy HELLO!!! Its here!!! Warrior! Yoongi is finally emerging from the depths of my writer blocked brain and I am SO happy you get to meet him. Once again, this series will be posted in parts just as Mama Mia! is and it may not necessarily follow a linear timeline.

Also, I know I mentioned her in the tag list post but, SERIOUSLY you guys this story would not be possible without my wonderful friend @bulletbroofbirdy aka Rachel who has literally spent so much time dreaming up with wonderful universe with me. My sweet angel, you are the greatest in the world and I love you. Please go follow Rachel and send her all the love in the universe and thank her for her genius brain because, without her, this fic wouldn’t exist.

War.

It’s not an uncommon occurrence where you’re from.

The ever-present shifting of the borderlines is a constant reminder of the struggle for power.

Many see it as a valiant effort, a noble cause...

But, war is something that doesn’t appeal to you.

It doesn’t sit right with your perspective on the world.

Sure, you understand it’s strengths and why it could be seen as necessary.

However, the consequences of war, of violence- never seem to be worth it.

Death.

It’s not an uncommon occurrence where you’re from.

When war is constantly raging on the background, it should be expected.

It should be normal.

To most of your district, it is.

To you?

Every single rise in the death toll sends icy despair into your heart.

Every drop of blood spilled feels as though it’s your own.

You’re desperate to find the solution for peace but, you know it’s not that simple.

Man is never content.

The struggle for power is never ending.

As you grow up, you learn to adapt.

Learning a trade is the easiest way to establish yourself so, you take up knitting and medicine.

You sell your wears and remedies in the market every other day and spend your off days replenishing the stock that you sold.

Your parents live comfortably but in order for them to do so, you’re in the market for hours on end.

Today starts as any other.

You’re gathering your wears in your family’s home as the sun is beginning to peak over the mountains.

The colors it throws through your window are breathtaking and, if you weren’t so exhausted, you’d be able to enjoy them a bit more.

Thankfully, your preparations don’t wake your parents as they sleep soundly in their bed.

You wish for nothing more than for them to be at peace every chance they get.

They have sacrificed so much.

The market displays its usual scenery.

The fishermen are always first setting up their catches from the evening prior, the butchers are hanging up their kills from the overnight hunt whilst the farmers arrange seasonal produce on their carts...

You always have your cart near the end of the market.

It’s easier for people to think about softer things such as knitted blankets or healing elixirs once they’ve purchased their food.

Thankfully, business is decent.

Your wares are well-made and your elixirs have an exceptional success rate.

The prices are fair so you attract all walks of life but, you focus more on serving the lower class folk such as yourself.

One of the fisherman, who you’ve grown acquainted with over the last few months, nods to your cart as you’re setting it up.

“What do you have today __?”

With a smile, you hold up a mauve woolen blanket which you’ve spent nearly two weeks on.

“This is the item of the day. I used a root dye to get the color- what do you think?”

He purses his lips, nodding in consideration, “I’m sure someone will snag that right away. It looks warm. It will be very useful over the next few months. Do you have any of that uh- “ Lowering his voice, he cranes his neck to assess whether or not any of his team can hear him, “ginseng mixture that you sold to me last week?”

You bite back a smirk as you nod towards the woven basket containing your various medicines, “I do. I made a new batch last night. Did you need some?”

A rapid nod is sent your way along with a handful of coins, “Thanks. It worked wonders last time. My wife sends her gratitude.”

Your cheeks heat up immediately but given that you’ve heard worse things in the market place, you merely giggle and file your payment away.

Ginseng is a natural stimulant that you often recommend to men experiencing issues with sex or fertility. Whilst you completely stand by its effectiveness, you won’t deny that it’s slightly awkward working with the men you’ve helped. Especially since they often insist on loudly announcing how many times they had sex the night before.

The rest of the setup goes smoothly and by the time the sun fully takes its place in the sky, you are ready for the market to open.

As your adjusting the sign on the front of your cart, you hear an interesting bout of conversation ignite in front of you

“Did you hear? The Royal Army is arriving today to refuel.”

“You’re lying. Are you serious? Do they- do you think they have him with them?”

“Of course! They aren’t stupid enough to travel without him. They’d be ambushed immediately.”

“Yah, what are you talking about?”

“The Tiger. He’s coming through town today.”

Instantly, your heart stalls in your chest.

You try your best to appear unbothered but, it doesn’t stop the panic from seeping into your bones.

The Tiger and the fleet of warriors he oversees are well-known in your village.

Word of mouth is truly a powerful mechanism for spreading information and, stories of The Tiger had been circulating for quite sometime.

They started out simply depicting a powerful new recruit into the Royal Army.

Despite his initial inexperience, The Tiger quickly rose through the ranks due to his otherworldly fighting skills.

According to the rumors, The Tiger was known for his silent destruction.

By the time his enemies could grasp what was happening, The Tiger and his men had already completed their mission.

They had already killed, maimed or destroyed whatever they were after.

A recent success had led to The Tiger becoming the General of the largest fleet in the Royal Army.

From what you had gathered, he wasn’t much older than you so the fact that he essentially lead an entire army is quite impressive.

However, given the stories of his cruel and cold blooded nature, it makes a lot of sense.

“I heard he beheads the enemy general on the battlefield after he wins...”

“I heard he killed 3,000 men all on his own in the middle of a thunderstorm!”

“I heard he keeps a viper on him at all times and he sets it loose on anyone he disobeys him!”

“I heard that he never sleeps.”

“Do you think he’ll come here? Would he be seen out in public like that?”

“Why wouldn’t he? He has nothing to fear, there isn’t a single soul in this village who could take him on.”

“Plus, he never travels alone. He’ll have his men with him.”

With a snort, you continue displaying your cart as normal and, only then do you realize that you stand out amongst the other merchants.

Every single one of them has an offering for the warriors.

It’s not customary to do so and, you’re only viable guess is that it has something to do with the market fawning over this tiger character.

“Were we supposed to put something out?” You murmur to the woman beside you, brows knitting in confusion.

She chuckles heartily, “When a normal fleet enters, no. We usually just offer them food and the resources we can spare.” A bit of excitement flashes through her eyes as she adjust the basket of radishes on her cart, “However, this is no ordinary fleet. I suggest you put something out too dear, that pretty face of yours could land you husband on the Tiger’s army, any one of his men would be a worthy mate. They aren’t shooting blanks like my husband over here!”

Her body jostles with laughter as she shoves her hand up against the man beside her, who looks whole-heartedly unamused.

“Jane, please...” He grumbles

You can’t help the grimace that comes across your face when Jane mentions finding a husband but, it’s quickly replaced with a mixture of amusement and sympathy.

“I have something for that.” You offer in a hushed tone and, the man seems to unfurl from his submissive position as he offers a meek smile.

“You do?”

You don’t have time to answer him before the mood of the market shifts into quiet chaos.

“I think they’re coming!” The fisherman whispers frantically, adjusting the sign on his cart for the millionth time.

As much you hate to give in to the hype, you feel compelled to go with the flow and, put something out for the warriors.

You settle on a basket of your most popular anti-inflammatory ailment that’s proven to be quite effective amongst your customers.

The long strips of white wood are haphazardly placed into a woven basket as you brace your ears for the piercing sound of trumpets.

Magnificent as the musicians in your village are, the blaring cacophony of noise is far from something you wish to be apart of this early in the morning.

However, the noise never comes.

The gates open up as normal as a reasonable size crowd begins meandering throughout the market.

You turn towards Jane with confusion painting your features, “Where’s the music?”

Jane is adjusting her radishes once again, glancing eagerly towards the crowd of people, “The Tiger does not allow fanfare of any kind. A far away village defied his orders once and played for him and his fleet anyway and- well...” She smirks bemusedly, “it didn’t end well for them, so we respect his wishes.”

Your eyes widen at that as you nod, swallowing back any fear that threatens to crawl up your throat.

“Got it.”

The usual slew of customers begin filing in and as business begins to pick up, you slowly forget about the famous warriors that were to enter.

Roughly, an hour later, your basket of willow bark remains untouched and, you begin to consider putting it back in its normal place. This particular bark is quite annoying to obtain and you don’t feel great about giving it away to some warrior after you’ve spent hours trying to procure it.

However, as you glance at other offering baskets, you notice that some of them have been emptied.

This means of course that either your fellow merchants put their offerings away or, the warriors are already in the market.

A strange and unsettling feeling washes over you at the thought of deadly warriors perusing throughout town. You expected that they would be recognizable, especially given their reputation but, nothing seems to give away their presence.

As a paying customer leaves your cart with an armful of various items, you notice something that normally doesn’t garner your attention: hair.

You see it amongst the crowd, peeking over the tops of heads.

It’s a shimmering icy platinum and it’s tied up atop a strangers head with a beaded string. It moves throughout the crowd slowly, stopping at various points, likely exchanging words with another merchant before you finally make out the face it belongs to.

A man dressed in cotton linens maneuvers out of the crowd, dark eyes scanning his surroundings almost anxiously. As he moves closer to you, you’re able to fully take in his features.

Pointed and smooth, his face is the epitome of contradiction.

Deep brown eyes, rounded button-nose, pouty lips and strong eyebrows adorn his face whilst his rather large hand flexes instinctually towards the object hanging off of his hips.

It’s a sword.

This man certainly isn’t a civilian.

Unfortunately, you’re unable to ignore the beauty he possesses. He is quite ethereal once you get a closer look at him; you don’t think you’ve ever seen another person that looks quite like him.

As he speaks with the fisherman, your ears perk up to in an attempt to hear the sound of his voice.

Faintly, you can discern a bit of rasp and calculation in his tone but, you aren’t able to absorb it over the sound of the market.

Its then you realize that you’ve been staring at this stranger for far too long and, if you’re ever going to meet your quota today, you need to avoid distractions.

You sell another one of your blanket moments later, increasing your daily total by a reasonable amount. Making blankets is enjoyable yes but, it’s extremely time consuming so it feels good when someone rewards you for your hard work.

“Please have some radishes! They’re grown in top soil from the northern region! It gives them a certain uh- “ Jane’s shrill voice pulls your attention towards her cart which now brandishes a new visitor: the stranger with the blonde hair.

You're realizing that Jane is pausing mid-sentence because, she is desperately looking to you for answers.

You've assisted Jane with her produce before as she was having trouble with the flavor of some of her vegetables. This was mainly due to the fact that she had been using the wrong kind of fertilizer but, you had also given her several tips to improve the overall taste of her produce.

“A certain crunch...” You finish for her, stabilizing your tone as you brave a glance towards the man. “The mixture of the soils helps with the texture.”

His feline gaze rushes towards you at the sound of your voice, as if he wasn’t expecting you to speak.

At the sight of you, his lips part momentarily before quickly sealing in a tight lipped smile which directs toward Jane.

“Thank you.” He nods toward her as he takes one of the radishes and tucks it into the pocket of his linen pants.

“Of course! Um thank you- sir for your...services...” She stutters and it’s then you notice that she hasn’t made eye contact throughout the entirety of their conversation.

A bit of discomfort flashes through his eyes but otherwise, he merely grunts in acknowledgement.

Jane’s comment is the last bit of confirmation you need that this man is indeed a warrior.

However, his reaction to her words strikes you as odd. Warriors rarely shy away from gratitude. They are often proud and boastful regarding their positions but, he seems to be bothered by what she said.

The man never looks back at Jane as he makes his way to the next cart. Every so often, you notice him looking over his shoulder or glancing towards the entrances/exits of the market. His presence doesn’t necessarily make you uneasy but, his behavior sure does.

He acts as though he is in danger.

It puts you on edge but, you direct your attention back to the customer in front of you.

“Good morning.” You smile, “Anything catch your eye?”

The man cards a hand through his salt and pepper hair as he leans over your cart, eagerly scanning the items you have on display.

“Eh do you have anything for dry skin? With winter around the corner, I gotta start thinking about this old skin of mine. The wind does a lot of damage on my knuckles.”

“You know what? I think I have just the thing...” You bend down to access the crate beneath your counter and grab a medium sized glass bottle, “This is an olive oil and honey treatment, it will treat dry skin immediately but, it’s meant to treat dry skin over a longer period of time too. I also-” You bend down once more to grab a tin of cocoa butter and place it on the counter top, “have this. This should help with daily wear and tear. You only need a little bit so this tin should last you through the winter.”

The man smiles eagerly and quickly reaches for his pockets before he freezes. You don’t notice until you look up from your counter but, the platinum haired warrior is back and, he’s standing right behind your customer.

“O-Oh go ahead, go ahead. I uh- I'll go next...” The man stutters, gesturing frantically to your cart.

With a quirked brow the warrior moves to step in front of him until you raise your hand.

“No sir, it’s ok. You’re in the middle of a transaction.” You insist, eyeing the warrior sternly, “I’ll be with you in a moment.”

The immediate crowd surrounding your cart seems to pause, nervously glancing towards the warrior who merely nods and steps back into place.

The shock is apparent on the faces of the crowd but you ignore it and send a reassuring smile towards your customer, “Ok, that will be 11.50 and-” You slide a bundle of rosemary towards him, “take this too, on the house. Brew it in some hot water to aid digestion, winter food tends to be a bit harsher on the system.”

The man swallows nervously, dragging his items toward his chest, “Thank you—uh so much. Thank you.” He turns towards the warrior, directing his gaze towards his feet as he bows his head, “Thank you for your service...”

The man doesn’t allow the warrior time to respond before he rushes off back into the crowd but, you get the feeling that it wouldn’t matter regardless.

The warrior doesn’t seem interested in anyone’s gratitude.

“Let me know if you have any questions.” You nod your head towards him, pushing the basket with your offering towards the edge of the counter before busying yourself with putting a few things back in their place.

He says nothing but, he approaches the counter whilst his eyes shrewdly observe the ins and outs of your set up.

He’s even more striking up close. His smooth, tan skin is mostly unmarked except for the giant scar running down the center of his right eye. It goes up the center of his eyelid and disappears right above the center of his brow. It’s still red and angrily risen against his otherwise angelic looking face.

A warrior indeed.

The bit of people around your cart haven’t stopped their staring but, they are at least making an attempt to look like they aren’t paying attention. It doesn’t stop you from wishing that you didn’t have an audience.

“Tree bark?” He questions with an arch to his brow

You look towards the basket he’s gesturing to before returning your gaze back to his.

“White willow bark.” You correct, almost defensively and it cause his lips to twitch.

“Is this some kind of decoration?”

You shake your head, placing your fingers on the edge of the basket, “No. It’s meant to be chewed. It reduces inflammation. I figured it would be useful since I imagine you deal with muscle soreness quite often.”

He smirks, “Amongst other things yes,” With long elegant fingers, he points to the basket, “So- if I chew on this, I should feel relief from any pain I might be experiencing?”

An all too rapid nod comes from you as you continue your explanation, “Well it’s mainly used to treat pain in your muscles and joints. If you’re looking to treat other types of pain, I have other options...”

He shakes his head, his hair swishing to the side as he does, “This should do, thank you.”

You suspect that he’s done, given that the bark is (annoyingly) free and he’s only seemed to be interested in the offerings thus far so, he surprises you when he asks yet another question.

“Do you have any more of that salve?”

“Of course,” You offer him a smile now that the initial tension is starting to lift, “Did you want a big tin or small tin?”

He purses his lips in thought, looking towards his hands, “What do you recommend?”

Without a second thought, you step towards him and take one of his hands, bringing it closer to your face for inspection.

The man seems to freeze in place, eyes widening in absolute shock, his own limb betraying him as it goes limp.

His hand displays evidence of the life he lives.

Rough, calloused and blistered...

His nails are bitten down to a point that almost looks painful but, the thing that stands out the most is how beautiful his hand is to you.

The strength in his skin is palpable and the indigo veins protruding against his hand are a firm reminder of what he is likely capable of.

What you don’t notice however, is the utter panic that flushes across his face or the way his eyes dart nervously between you and his hand.

Just as you would during any consultation, you briefly run your fingers over the palm of his hand and up the length of each of his fingers

“Hmm I would recommend the big tin, I think...you have a lot of rough spots but the skin between your callouses is quite smooth so,” You carefully set his hand back onto the counter and return your eyes back to his, “what that tells me is that your skin is roughened by your environment rather than by an actual lack of moisture.” You slide the big tin towards him, “Apply this to the dryer areas as needed throughout the day but, every night before you go to bed, make sure to put this on. Sleeping with it will allow it to seep into your skin and heal the dryness over time.”

The warrior’s eyes are transfixed on you and for a moment he is completely speechless, his hand lingering on the counter before hurriedly places them back at his side.

He can’t understand you and why you just touched him.

But what’s worse, is he can’t understand why his mouth is suddenly dry.

Or why his skin is on fire...

Or why his heart is thrashing around in his chest.

He clears his throat and nods, “Very good. I’ll be sure to follow your instructions.” He sticks the hand you didn’t touch into his pocket, fishing around for something, “What’s my total?”

“That will be 3.50.” You say with a smile, holding out your hand.

He dispenses his payment into your palm before stowing his items away in his free pocket.

“Thank you.” He grunts, the hand you touched still kind of awkwardly lingering away from his body.

Was he going to wash it as soon as he got the chance?

Did you smell weird?

“Of course, have a nice day. Safe travels.” With a wave, you send him off, missing the small smile that momentarily appears on his face.

You’re genuinely relieved that the encounter is over but, you’d be lying if you said that it didn’t intrigue you.

Before you’re able to get your bearings and move on, Jane is rushing over to you frantically.

“What on Earth was that??? Do you know him??? Why didn’t you tell me you knew him?!” She swats your arm, her eyes wide with incredulity.

“Ow!” You grip your arm, “What are you talking about?”

The man has already disappeared back into the crowd but, you’re still attempting to keep your voice at a reasonable level.

Jane does not follow suit.

“You just put your hands on the Tiger!” Jane shrieks causing you to recoil in response, “He could kill you for that! What were you thinking?”

“He’s going to kill me because I touched his hand?” Your brow arches in amusement, as your lips threaten to smile, “I had no idea who he was Jane, I was just helping a paying customer.”

She doesn’t like your answer and quickly swats your arm again, “Y/N this is not a joke! He’s a dangerous man. I nearly fainted when you looked him in his eyes but, then you touched him and-”

“Jane, that’s enough.” The fisherman hisses, gesturing wildly to the crowd of people, “You’re making a scene and he’s still out here somewhere.”

She huffs her hands rushing to smooth out the apron over her dress before rushing a finger into your face, “You won’t be laughing if he shows up at your house with a sword in your face. You need to be careful.”

You smirk at this but otherwise comply, not wishing to fire her up any further, “Thank you for your concern Jane, I’ll make sure to carry my sword around too, you know, just in case.”

Jane snorts then and rolls her eyes, scurrying back to her cart and mumbling something along the lines of:

“That mouth is going to get you killed...”

You can’t help but giggle.

There’s no doubt that the man you just spoke to was a warrior and, maybe he was some almighty warrior but he other than an intense staring problem, he didn’t scare you at all.

Thankfully, business is booming for the remainder of the day and although you’re thrilled at the money you’ll be taking home, you aren’t looking forward to all the replenishing you have to do.

The last order of business before heading home is picking a few things for your parents and grabbing the last of the steamed buns for your best friend.

Rachel has lived beside you ever since you can remember. The two of you spent most of your childhood running around the village, causing mini bouts of chaos everywhere you went. Despite the challenges life had brought the both of you, you grew together rather than apart.

Rachel is the village’s most treasured teacher and she’s been running the school for the past few years. She’s kind of the best and, you have a feeling she’ll be interested to hear about the rather interesting events that had transpired over the course of your day.

As you turn down the dirt path towards her home, you start to wonder where the Tiger and his fleet would be staying.

Your village wasn’t run-down but it wasn’t exactly luxurious by any standards.

The rubble near the beginning of the street along with the various empty wooden barrels doesn’t exactly count as décor and, the occasional drunken argument outside the village’s tavern certainly doesn’t add any class to the area but, its home.

Rachel's house is easy to spot amongst the rest of the street as it’s the only one completely covered in plants.

She’s had a love of greenery for quite sometime and, it’s amongst the many things you two bond over.

Adjusting the bag on your shoulder, you immediately reach for the handle and use all your weight to shove the front door open.

Rachel is sitting on her sofa and despite the fact that she was expecting you, she still jumps at the sound.

“Oh my goodness!” She exclaims “Have you ever heard of knocking???”

You giggle but otherwise ignore her and lean against the door dramatically, “Rachel, you better get one last look at me because, this might be the last time you ever see me.”

She laughs lightly and folds her arms, “What did you do this time? Did you call the apothecary a fraud again?” Wiggling her fingers, she reaches out for the snacks your holding.

“Ok first of all, he is a fraud but no....it’s much much worse.” You shove the snacks into her awaiting hands before flopping down on the armchair, “I touched a man’s hand...”

She freezes, the bun lingering near her mouth, “Alright, now I am officially curious, why is hand touching worse?”

You smirk, “I touched...the Tiger’s hand” You point a finger at her quickly as her lips part, “Before you even make the joke, no it wasn’t a real tiger...it was THE tiger.”

Rachel snorts with laughter before going wide-eyed in shock, “You...wha--the Tiger? THE Tiger??? You TOUCHED the Tiger?!!?!? What were you thinking?!? Oh my god, did he bite? Wait, focus, Rachel---Why did you touch the Tiger?!?”

Whilst she’s rambling on you burst out in a fit of giggles, snuggling back against the chair, “He came to my cart looking for a good salve for his hands. All I did was do an assessment as I normally do to see what he needed. I don’t understand why everyone is freaking out...he seemed pretty harmless to me.”

She leans forward on the couch, “Harmless? He seemed...harmless?!?” She whispers frantically, “He has personally slain hundreds of men with those very hands!!!

“Why are we whispering?...”

Rachel returns to normal volume, rolling her eyes “Fine. More like thousands if you count how many his army has obliterated. And you just pawed at him--are you insane? He has killed people for less! At least that’s what the rumors say.”

You keep giggling, completely unfazed as you make yourself at home, “The rumors also say that he killed an entire village because they played their trumpets for him. I don’t know how credible these rumors are.”

“Well....what was he like then? You cannot drop this information on me and not give me every detail.” She insists, gesturing wildly at you before leaning back and sipping from her mug.

“Uh he was fine. I mean- he was normal I guess, I don’t know. He has really long hair, its blonde- like really blonde. He looks young, way younger than I thought he’d be. He has a big scar over his eye. Jane was practically drooling over him...”

Realization crosses Rachel’s face as she watches you intently. She relaxes back into her chair as a knowing smile spreads across her face, “Ohhhh young, blonde, mysterious...Jane must really HAVE been drooling. Seems like she’s not the only one, though...”

“I mean- the fisherman guys were pretty excited too I guess. I don’t know what the big deal is honestly, I know he’s supposed to be good on the battlefield but they were treating him like he was some kind of king or something.” You narrow your eyes “Are you suggesting I was drooling over him? Because I definitely wasn’t...I even told him to wait his turn in line.” You insist, shifting around on the chair.

Rachel crosses her legs dramatically, steeping her fingers as she observes you, “Was that before or after you found out he was handsome? Hmm?” She smirks again, holding her hands up innocently, “I am implying nothing, I am just NOTICING that you are definitely affected by him. I haven’t seen you impressed by....well, anyone.”

She’s not wrong.

“Hey hey whoa...who said anything about impressed?? I’m not impressed. I’m not impressed at all.”

Rachel eyes you suspiciously”...right...not impressed at all. Well, did you at least hear anything about them? Any word on how long the army will be here? We’ve got to be the safest village in the country as long as they are in town.” Suddenly, she facepalms in realization, “My students will be so distracted as long as they are here.”

“Not impressed. He’s just a man with a scar and sword...” You insist, twiddling your thumbs “I guess they are just refueling, I’m not sure how long they will be here. Jane told me I need to watch my back so, hopefully not for long...” You giggle again, thinking of how excited the schoolchildren will be now that the legendary Tiger is in town, “maybe you can make an assignment out of it...”

She stares off into space for a moment and mutters, “that’s not a bad idea...we could get outside, maybe a soldier could come speak to them? There’s got to be at least one that’s not terrifying?...” Rachel shakes her head, unimpressed with your lack of understanding, “Just a man with a scar and sword—he is the most feared military leader of our generation! And I wouldn’t worry TOO much about watching your back. After all—none of the legends involve the Tiger killing civilians, do they? At the very least his presence here means good business for the village. If you can get the Tiger as a repeat customer I can only imagine the profits you’ll turn at that little stall!” She muses, laugh heartily, “Buy the salve that soothed a beast! I can hear the gossip already...”

You point a finger at her, “I like the way you think. If you ever want to stop educating and enriching the minds of our youth and be my business partner, let me know...” Suddenly the humor within you dissipates as the reality of your situation seems to sink in, “You don’t think I should be worried though right?”

Rachel lets out a short laugh, “Thanks for the offer...” She shakes her head, “As far as this Tiger business is concerned...I don’t think your safety is under any threat. How did he react when you touched him? Did he seem angry?”

“He just froze...” You recall, your eyes unfocusing slightly, “It was kind of weird honestly. I’ve never had anyone do that before. It’s pretty normal to get checked out during an apothecary visit. I guess I wasn’t supposed to look at him either but, how the hell am I supposed to do an exam if I can’t look at his face?”

“Hmmm...that is strange. I’ll be honest, I thought he would have scolded you or pulled away based on the stories. Unless...” Rachel slumps back against her sofa, her face relaxing into a smirk, “...he was just as surprised by you as you were of him.”

You wrinkle your nose, “Ew no. Definitely not.”

Rachel doesn’t look convinced but you continue nevertheless, suddenly wishing to change the subject.

“He looked nervous I guess- I don’t know. His hand just sort of hung there after I finished. Today was weird...anywayyy-” You nod to the dough between your palms, “How are the buns? Did anything interesting happen in the education world.”

“Oh three boys got in a worm eating contest and threw up on their practice parchment so I could go without that kind of interesting for awhile. The buns are transcendent as usual but you-” She narrows her eyes in your direction, “- are dodging. Why would a general be nervous around you hmm? You said he is young...is he also handsome?”

“Ah god I love kids...” You note with a giggle before shrugging, shrinking back into the chair, “I don’t know. Objectively he- he definitely wasn’t ugly.”

Rachel raises an eyebrow, “I sense there is more to it than that.”

“Fine. He was easily the most handsome man I’ve ever seen in my life. There! Are you happy now?” You grumble before dramatically staring off into the distance, “Oh to be murdered by the most handsome man alive...how romantic.”

This prompts a twinkling bout of laughter from Rachel who has finally finished the first of her many snacks, “I can think of worse ends my friend. Perhaps that was your only interaction? I am sure he is busy making preparations; too busy to be executing smart-mouthed apothecaries. I wouldn’t fret too much Y/N.”

With you sigh, you accept her analysis, sending a nod her way, “You’re probably right and, that’s probably for the best.” Despite the conviction in your tone, you can feel the disappointment on your face, “Thank you for calling my mouth smart.” You smirk before nodding toward the door, “I should probably head home. My father has a nasty cough and I seriously doubt he’s taken the medicine I left for him.”

Meeting you at the door, Rachel pulls you in for a big hug, “The smartest mouth in town- that's why I keep you around. Give your father my love and tell him, if he gives you a hard time—I will find out!”

You laugh, hugging her tightly, “The second smartest mouth in town...” You insist, “let’s do the tavern this weekend please. The children have been taking all your time and I miss my best friend!”

“Of course! No pack of tiny ruffians can get between me and a night out.”

You pat her shoulder gently before stepping out of the doorframe, “That’s right.” You smile, thankful to have someone like her in your life, “love you, have a good night.”

“Good night, sleep tight...” She sings, slowly closing the door, “don’t let the Tiger bite!” She laughs wildly before slamming the door shut to prevent your retaliation.

She’s a menace.

The walk back home is pleasant, the fall breeze nips at your skin through your sweater but, it feels refreshing against your flushed cheeks.

Your parents are asleep by the time you return home.

It’s common for you to arrive well past their bedtime but, despite your lack of contact, they still manage to make you feel loved.

On the kitchen table sits bowl of stew and freshly baked bread, along with a new blanket for the winter.

Your mom makes a fresh one everywhere with thicker fabric to combat the icy freeze of the winter climate. The stew will be cold but, your heart will be warm and your stomach will be full.

In truth, these are the only things that matter to you.

Living simple certainly has it’s drawbacks but overall, you are comforted by it. Your parents raised you to be thankful for the things you have and to only set your sights on obtaining things that truly matter to you. It doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t have goals but, your parents have always stressed that external success can be fickle and, material possessions only take you so far.

Being content is truly priceless and, you’re thankful they instilled these values into you.

Climbing into bed, you allow your mind to wander to the man you met today.

You couldn’t quite understand the legend behind him. Not to say that he wasn’t worthy of such folklore but, it’s more so that you didn’t exactly understand the warnings behind it.

He didn’t seem scary.

Although, it’s possible his demeanor is something he uses along with his beauty.

It could be that the Tiger lives up his animal comparison.

Beautiful and deadly.

Village gossip shouldn’t keep you awake longer than necessary, you think, it’s time to rest up so that tomorrow’s work day doesn’t feel like a never-ending task.

With the sound of the whistling wind just outside your home, you slowly close your eyes and drift off to sleep.

Your plan for a peaceful nights rest is completely demolished when you feel the frantic hands of your mother shaking you awake.

“Y/N! Wake up! Wake up! Raiders- they are raiders outside, hurry!” She drags the covers off of you, “We have to go!”

In a haphazard blur, you spring to your feet and arm yourself with a few important possessions and your sword.

Your parents tow behind you as you make your way out of your home.

The village is in utter chaos; shouting, clanking metal, screaming, amber flames peaking out from above the rooftops.

You grab your mothers arm, keeping her close to you as you try your best to follow procedures.

Like most smaller villages, your area is equipped with a protocol that will ensure the least amount of damage if there were to be an invasion.

Collect the essentials and gather your loved ones

Arm yourself

Make your way to the town square; there is strength in numbers.

Allow the raiders to take what they want (with the exception of human lives)

Negotiate

Simple in theory but, rarely in practice.

It’s difficult to keep up with a protocol during times of intense stress.

Amidst the chaos, you see Rachel scrambling out of her house, with a bag slung over her shoulder.

You cry out for her, desperately hoping she will hear your voice over the madness,

“Rachel! Over here!”

With wide eyes, she reaches out for your mother’s hand, bowing her head to shield from any possible debris.

“The army is here, they will protect us.” Your father murmurs solemnly beside you, his face stoic and rid of any bit of positivity

This could end very badly.

The four of you rush into the town square, trying your best to remain calm throughout the screaming, back up against a wall. Your grip tightens on your mothers hand as you spot the tents of the armed guests currently residing in your village.

The raiders continue their plundering throughout the town accompanied by the sounds of glass breaking and shouting.

Suddenly, there is a different sound: the clanking of swords. Briefly, you can see glimpses of armor peeking out of homes, the sight causing your eyes to widen.

“Look!”

Rachel and your parents crane their necks to see what you’re pointing out as the sounds coming from within your village begin to change.

Grunting, groaning, more clanking swords and a bit of shouting shoot out of the main street like fireworks.

“Clear the path!” An unfamiliar voice shouts and it’s then you can see what’s going on.

The raiders have been captured thanks to the ominous group of tourists that arrived yesterday.

Oddly enough, you don’t even remember seeing them leave their tents and it makes you wonder how the hell they managed to move so quickly undetected.

There are several men, dressed in black and gold armor, dragging the raiders by their shirts to the center of town square. One of them is a tall, doe eyed looking man with shaggy brown hair and biceps that could likely snap a neck if they so desired. He has his sword to the back of one of the raiders who scuffles along on his knees to meet with the rest of his captured teammates.

As the rest of the soldiers file in, another leader of the troop, tall and equally broad, gestures to Bambi with the biceps.

“Jungkook-ah! Bring the leader to the center; let our general deal with him.”

Jungkook does just that, quickly the toe of his boot into the back of the raider and jerking his head to the center of the plaza, “You heard him- move.” He grunts and the raider reluctantly shuffles forward.

Your fellow villagers are reasonably alarmed but, they all seem to freeze in place as they watch the show unravel before them.

This is already more excitement than your village has had in ages and, you’d be lying if you said you weren’t eating it up.

The man who has now been identified as Jungkook, steps away from the raider, still pointing his sword at him, a smug smirk on his face, “You know for a master thief, you were far too easy to catch. Lucky for me, I made a bet with my brothers here that I would catch you in 10 minutes,” Jungkook walks back towards the man, entangling his fingers in the roots of his hair before tugging backwards, “, and according to the clock tower, it only took me 8.”

Beside you, Rachel seems to swallow back her surprise before subconsciously starting to fan her face,

“Goodness, he really is something huh?”

Despite the tense nature of the situation, her demeanor makes you giggle,

“Stop drooling over the calvary...”

She smacks you playfully which causes your father to shush both of you, a moment which reminds you of your schoolyard days.

A bit of immaturity is actually refreshing after the events of this morning.

“Jungkook-ssi,” A voice bellows throughout the plaza, sending a chill down your spine, “What have I told you about placing bets on our captors huh?”

As the voice grows louder, you see him: the Tiger, stepping out from the main street, his long platinum hair flowing freely in the wind. His hand brandishes a sword, one that most certainly possesses the ability to inflict some serious harm.

Sheepishly, Jungkook smirks, releasing the man’s hair roughly and stepping back to his original spot, his sword posing to strike.

“Sorry hyung, this one was just too easy. I saw him skirting the perimeter last night, I know it would be a sure win once I saw his technique.”

So that’s how the army was able to move so quickly; they already anticipated this attack.

The Tiger chuckles darkly, his eyes alight with pure delight, “Aish- what am I going to do with you people hm?”

He moves like his name; slow, deliberate, deadly- you know that you’re about to witness an execution and you aren’t sure if you can stomach the sight, even if these raiders deserve it.

Its your turn to swallow back your reaction to him which doesn’t go unnoticed by your best friend standing beside you.

“Now look who’s drooling...” She teases, giggling as you playfully shove your elbow into her side.

The crowd is dangerously still, hanging on each syllable the Tiger speaks whilst his men, six other soldiers roughly his size, watch intently.

The rest of the raider clan are being held captive by the remainder of the fleet, bowing their heads in shame and fear but, the leader seems unaffected by their defeat.

“You lot aren’t men.” The man spits, his accent thick, “you’re narcissistic little boys who like to play dress up. You’re cowards, hiding behind your swords, killing everything that stands in your way. You have no idea how the other half live. You have no honor.”

There are gasps throughout the crowd then as your village grows shocked at the way he’s spoken to the Tiger.

If you had any hope that this wouldn’t end violently, it’s been squashed by the time the leader finishes his sentence.

The Tiger however, merely chuckles again, a light smirk on his carnation lips,

“It’s odd that a man who earns his keep by stealing from others would have the authority to lecture my men and I about honor.” He kisses his teeth and slowly raises his sword to brush against the man’s cheek, “Look at all these poor people hm? You've terrified them. Your lack of intelligence isn’t their burden to bear now is it? But you have made it their problem; ripped them from their homes, terrorized their children, their livelihoods and, all because you’re too incompetent to learn your own trade.”

The Tiger’s words infuriate him and the next thing you know, he’s lunging off the ground towards the Tiger, a snarl arising on his mouth.

It prompts your hands to fly to your face and your feet to nearly trip over themselves as you brace for the inevitable fight.

But it doesn’t come.

With one swoop of his arm, the Tiger has the leader knocked to the floor and underneath his leather boot. Jungkook has reacted quickly as well, his arm raising in the air to slice his sword through the man’s body. With one twitch of his hand however, the Tiger stops Jungkook from following through,

“See? You can’t do things like that my friend. Because if you do, my big friend here with the sword will slice your greasy head in two.” The Tiger smirks again, before turning his head over his shoulder, “You folks wouldn’t want to spend the day cleaning blood of your beautiful plaza now would you?”

Overexcited villagers quickly shout various commentary at him,

“Kill him!”

“Cut his head off!”

“Make him pay!”

The Tiger chuckles once more, raising his brows as the man struggles beneath his boot, “Well, I guess you’re lucky they aren’t in charge of your punishment...” He looks up towards the remainder of his fleet, nodding his head at the other prisoners, “Namjoon, Jin: ensure that none of these men are here against their will. If the rest of you are here by choice, I suggest you make yourselves disappear into the forest before I allow these fine people to get ahold of you.”

Immediately, the Tiger’s fleet begin following his orders and take the men away towards their tents. As they walk out of the plaza, only Jungkook, the Tiger and the clan leader remain.

You notice Jungkook scan the crowd then, peering out at the eager faces watching the show he is willingly apart of. Very briefly but noticeably, his eyes land on your best friend and as they do, they seem to linger.

He looks curious, almost boyish in a way as his ways seem to memorize her face but before Rachel even realizes what’s going on, his eyes quickly return to the raider.

“If you’re going to kill me, just do it. Don’t be a coward, I can’t listen to you ramble any longer.” The man growls which prompts the Tiger to push his foot down a little harder upon his back.

“I’m not your executioner, thief. Your fate resides with the Queens.” He explains, matter of factly before jerking his head towards Jungkook, “Put him in the portable cell. I’ll send a notice to the council that we have a criminal that needs to be dealt with.”

Jungkook nods, eagerly crossing the bit of plaza and kneeling down to restrain the man with handcuffs.

He grips the chain linking them and heaves him upwards so he’s standing between the two men.

“I’ll hose him off first,” Jungkook wrinkles his nose in disgust, “I don’t want him stinking up our camp.”

“Fuck you-” The man spits, jerking his wrists in Jungkook’s grip which then causes the Tiger to raise his sword once again.

“Behave yourself, thief.” He commands, his eyes darkening for the first time, “I’m assuming if you’ve heard stories of my fleet, you are privy to the fact that we don’t miss our target. Please don’t give me a reason to live up to my name.”

With that, the two men drag off the clan leader towards the rest of their fleet, not bothering to look back at the dozens of people they just saved.

They ignore the applause, the gratitude, the pleas for them to return and feast.

You have to admit that you’re shocked.

The supposedly wicked and ruthless Tiger sure seems to have quite a bit of restraint and diplomacy.

“Did he- did he really just let him go? Unharmed?”

Rachel asks a very good question and it seems to be the one on your parents minds as well.

“It’s extremely odd. I was fully prepared to witness an execution, he would have been within his right.” Your father notes, his eyes still trained on the center of the plaza.

Generals have a certain level of freedom with the prisoners they choose to capture; they are expected to have good judgement and carry out punishments if necessary.

In essence, the Tiger had every bit of authority to end that mans life and, given that he an eager crowd behind him, it genuinely perplexes you.

“Organized raids come with an automatic life sentence, the leaders are usually executed within a few days of their trial.” Your mother notes and it’s then that Rachel notices your silence.

“Well I think it’s safe to say that you didn’t make it on his hit list. You can’t be worse than a lead raider...” She grins, knowing full well that your confusion also comes with an annoying amount of curiosity.

She also knows that you plan on finding a way to speak with him again.

And she is absolutely right.

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

“Should I say hi to Jungkook for you? Ask if he’s betrothed?” You tease and Rachel promptly throws balled up dress your way.

You went to her house after the excitement in the town square to bake a batch of fresh bread for the Tiger’s fleet.

Bread is increasingly hard to come by these days due to a crop shortage in the northern region so despite what people may think, most military diets consist of salted meat and corn.

Doughy, fluffy, cheesy, rosemary bread is a luxury.

“I have a feeling you’ll be preoccupied with your mission to court the Tiger.” She retorts but a deep frown comes over her then, as she wraps the last loaf in parchment paper, “Are you sure you should be doing this? Waltzing over to a tent full of dangerous soldiers doesn’t seem like a good idea.”

“I want to thank them.” You insist, loading your basket with the rest of the loaves, glancing up at your worried friend, “All the village ever talks about is how ruthless they are, how cruel they are known to be but, the reality is: they saved us. It must be frustrating to refuel just as any other fleet would and have people gossip about you or fear you unnecessarily. I’m not planning on staying for tea or anything, I just want to show my appreciation.”

Rachel raises her brows, “That’s all hm?”

You nod, “Yep.” Your lips pop with the sound of the p and Rachel remains unconvinced.

“This has nothing to do with the Tiger?”

“Of course not.” Your answer tumbles past your lips far too quickly and, it causes your friend to grin knowingly at you.

“I know that look-”

“Ugh what look?”

“The look. That one-” She points at you, “You’re about to do something you know you shouldn’t.”

Her smile is far too contagious and her knowledge of you surpasses anyone you’ve ever known in your life.

She has your number and there really is no point in lying to her.

“Fine, ok maybe it has a little something to do with the Tiger-” You smirk, trying to stifle the giggle that threatens your disposition, “Don’t laugh at me!”

Rachel’s twinkling laughter fills the room as she rounds the counter. Placing her hands on your shoulders, she smiles fondly at you, “Just be careful ok? I know he intrigues you and honestly I’m not at all surprised but, don’t let your curiosity get in the way of your safety. That’s the most important thing.”

“I won’t.” You promise, smiling back at her, placing your hands on hers, “I promise, I’ll be careful.”

Rachel helps you out once again, insuring you have everything you need before her soft voice is answering a question you asked moments earlier.

“And uh about that Jungkook boy-”

You smirk, “He’s definitely not a boy, did you see his muscles? He looks like he could bench press a mountain lion.”

She grows flustered, “No, I didn’t see any muscles, I have no idea what you’re talking about-”

“Oh so you also didn’t notice him staring at you in the plaza today right?”

Rachel’s eyes widen, “Wait he was?” She clears her throat, amending her eagerness as you giggle, “He definitely wasn’t staring at me don’t be ridiculous. What I was going to say-”

“What you were going to say is that ‘no Y/N, I don’t want you to check on Jungkook’s marital status directly but, should you happen to come across his left hand, let me know whether or not you see a shiny band around his finger, not that I would care or anything. Because, I totally don’t have the hots for him.’ “

Her mouth opens and then closes like a fish before she playfully nudges you through her doorway, “Shut up.”

With a laugh and a few parting words, you are off to visit the tent of your village's heroes.

You would be lying if you said you weren’t nervous.

But you’d also be lying if you said you were nervous for the right reasons.

The concept of walking into the basecamp of a supposedly elite and ruthless fleet is one thing but, talking to someone you find attractive?

Absolutely terrifying.

Your presence is immediately noted by the men inside the camp.

Two of them are seated at a table outside of one of the tents, hands and teeth full of meat, their motions freezing in place as they see you.

As you pass by one of their horses, you notice of them is speaking with a group of raiders.

The conversation seems amicable, suggesting that many of the raider clan was indeed in your village against their will.

You approach the main but, before you are able to make ring the bell on the outside, you are crashing chest first into a very firm and very broad chest.

“Holy-” The voice sounds familiar and as you look up, you are meet with the bambi with biceps himself: Jungkook.

“Hello I-” You attempt to begin but his panicked voice interrupts you.

“Yah hyung??? Uh there’s a-” He swallows thickly stepping away from you, “There’s a girl here!”

The word seems foreign on his tongue and his behavior genuinely surprises you.

Where was the cocky warrior from this morning, brandishing a sword and placing bets on his captors?

“Jungkook, for the last time- we don’t use that word. We say young lady or woman...” Another voice, one you don’t recognize fades into your scope of hearing before pushing open the fabric of the tent. He is arguably just as beautiful as the other men, tall, dark haired, buff- as if he would be anything else.

“Oh, hello. Are you...” The man narrows his brows as he looks towards the group of raiders speaking with one of his counterparts, “Are you with the group or?”

You shake your head, your basket swinging when you turn back towards the village, “Oh no, no I’m from the village. My name is Y/N Y/L/N...” You bow your head slightly, “I came here to bring you this,” You gesture to the basket, “It’s fresh bread. I wanted to thank you for saving my people today.”

You feel the need to rush out your explanation as the rest of the fleet continues to stare at you. In fact, the way they are looking at you is rather unnerving.

It isn’t disrespectful just intrusive; they are looking at you as if you’ve sprouted a second head.

“You-” The man before you cocks his head, looking befuddled, “You came here to- thank us?”

“Well yes, I know bread is hard to come by and I figured you could use a pick-me-up after your fight this morning.”

He smiles now but his incredulity doesn’t change as he takes the basket from your hands, “It’s warm.” He notes, “Did you bake this recently?”

“Yes I baked it today, just now actually uh-” You decide to speak candidly now since the possible threat margin seems to be closing, “You look confused.”

Jungkook is practically hiding behind the man you’re addressing and it takes a large part of you not to laugh at his behavior.

“Forgive me.” He chuckles, “We aren’t exactly used to hospitality. Most villagers avoid us like the plague, it probably has to do with our General but regardless.” He bows his head, “We appreciate the gesture. I’ll make sure to pass along your gratitude to him once he returns.”

“Oh is he not here? I was hoping to thank him myself.” You try and mask the disappointment in your tone, not wishing to come across as stranger than you already did.

The man shakes his head, “No. He often takes a walk after an invasion; gotta make sure the perimeter is secure.” He smiles and you are taken aback by how white his teeth were, “My name is Seokjin, I’m the outreach expert on the fleet and unofficial chef. I promise your bread will be put to good use, it’s been months since we’ve had any decent carbs.”

His comment makes you smile and you are delighted that his demeanor is so welcoming.

“I’m sorry to heart that. Will you be in town long? I can try to set you up with a few more baskets before your departure?”

Seokjin chuckles warmly before snorting as Jungkook paws at the basket, “Easy.” He admonishes but its too late, Jungkook already has half a loaf down in his mouth, his chest rumbling with the sound of his groan.

“Oh my god hyung, it’s so good...”

Seokjin looks disgusted with him but hands him the basket anyway, nodding to the rest of the fleet, “Share. Make sure you save a loaf for Yoongi and I.”

Jungkook happily obliges but not before turning towards you and bowing, “Uh thanks for the- for the bread....”

His sentence is choppy and over before it even begins as he goes bounding off in the direction of his team.

“Pardon him, he’s been in the army since he was fourteen. We haven’t done an amazing job at socializing him but, he’s getting better. He’s still a bit antsy around women though.” Seokjin chuckles, fondness in his eyes, “Ah but to answer your question, yes. We've decided to set up here for a few weeks to train our new recruits. I would love to more of this bread if it’s not too much trouble.”

You smile, waving him off, attempting to conceal your happiness at the news he’s just delivered, “Nonsense, I’d be happy to bake some more.”

“Excellent!” He chirps, clasping his hands together, “I’m sure Yoongi would be happy to know we’ve finally manage to contact with a villager. It’s been an issue for us, stories spread like wildfire you know? And just like wildfire, they tend to do more harm than good.”

“And Yoongi is?”

Seokjin chuckles, “Ah I believe you’d know him better as...” He flutters his fingers dramatically, “ the Tiger.”

Yoongi.

So that was his name.

“Oh yes,” You amend, “I’ve certainly heard of him but, I prefer to make my own judgements rather than succumb to the gossip.”

He smirks, “That’s very noble of you Y/N. I for one,” He places a hand on his chest, throwing a wink your way, “, live for the gossip.”

Your meeting with Seokjin ends soon after that with a promise that you would return with more bread.

As much as you wanted to rush back to Rachel’s house to inform of your meeting with the ‘most dangerous fleet in the world’, you remind yourself that school is in session; a necessary but annoying inconvenience.

However, there are plenty of ways you plan on keeping busy for the remainder of the day and one of them involves visiting the river to collect more herbs for your remedies.

You obviously weren't able to sell your wares today as the marketplace was still littered with evidence of the robbery. Your parents had insisted you take the day off to restock and recuperate whilst they helped the village leaders clean up.

Reluctantly, you agreed and you are now very grateful that you had.

The river has always been one of your favorite places. It was rich, green, buzzing with life and, always a few degrees colder than your village. Surrounded by mossy trees that seem to stretch as high as the clouds, the river is encased with life. Rabbits, squirrels, tortoises, frogs and a plethora of birds all coral in the area the river resides in whilst bears, big cats, wolves and monkeys hide behind the dense forest. It’s any apothecary’s paradise as it is also the residence of any herbs capable of growing in damp areas.

Angelica, Blue Vervain, Marshmallow, Stinging Needle and more: the river is your one stop shop for so many of your essential ingredients.

Today you’re after a particular herb though and armed with another woven basket, you make your way towards the large bushels of it growing at the base of a tree trunk.

Valerian is an essential herb in your arsenal and due to its popularity, it’s something you’re consistently having to restock.

Gathering it carefully, ensuring you don’t disturb the root of the plant.

You are so enthralled with your current task that you don’t even notice that you are no longer alone.

“Is this where the tree bark grows?”

You jump nearly six feet out of your skin, whipping your head around to face your intruder.

Standing before you is the myth himself, the Tiger or as you’ve recently learned: Yoongi.

He’s still in his armor from earlier, his long tendrils pulled back away from his face into a low ponytail. Between his lips, which are curving slightly, is a piece of the bark he had taken from your cart the day prior.

He is chewing it as you instructed.

“You of all people should know not to ambush someone like that...” You breath, placing a hand on your chest, “I could have wacked you with this basket or something.”

He just smirks, “I’ve had worse.” He notes, taking the bark from between his teeth, “I’m sorry I frightened you though, I didn’t expect to see anyone here.”

“Likewise.” You retort, nodding your head at the bark, “Is it helping?”

He shrugs, “Too early to tell I suppose but, it’s tending to my oral fixation so, either way it has a purpose.”

You straighten up a bit more and smooth out your dress, “It will work, it just takes a bit of time.” You assure him before adjusting the herbs in your basket, “I came by your tent earlier to offer my thanks for what you and your men did today, your outreach coordinator Seokjin told me he’d pass along the message but-”

“You did what?”

His tone doesn’t entirely lean one way or the other and you quickly grow worried that you offended him.

“I brought a basket of bread to uh-” You swallow thickly, meeting the intensity of his gaze, “to your camp as a thank you for saving my village.”

Several emotions flicker across his face before he settles on surprise, “I see. Were they polite?”

You can’t help but smile, this day truly has been full of surprises and, Yoongi’s demeanor is only adding to that list.

“I only had the privilege of meeting Seokjin and well- I kind of met Jungkook but, he seemed a little-”

“Awkward?” Yoongi smirks

“A little.” You amend, “But both of them were very polite. They explained that they often don’t receive any hospitality on stops like this; I was very sorry to hear that.”

Yoongi’s teeth seem to catch the inside of his cheek as he nods curtly, “There’s no need for apologies. Hospitality is welcome but, never expected. I try to teach my men that we should never expect gratitude for what we do as it so often comes with a price.”

“I suppose gratitude should be offered situationally then, there was very little draw back to what you did today. Our village is privy to raiders; maybe if word gets around that you all were in town, that might prevent this from happening again.”

He purses his lips before nodding in consideration, “I see you’re point. Regardless of its necessity, gratitude is always welcome: especially when free food is involved.”

His comment makes you giggle and your laughter makes his lips itch in a way they never have.

“I wholeheartedly agree with that. I get a surprising amount of baked goods sent my way doing what I do so, I’ll have no problem dolling out the gratitude while you all are here.”

Yoongi’s brows knit in confusion, “Do you people often pay you in baked goods?”

Laughter flows freely out of your mouth then and you shake your head at his question, “Definitely not, I sell my goods for currency as does any obedient member of society,” At this Yoongi smirks again, he likes your wit, a lot, “but I do receive muffin baskets, cakes, pies and whatnot from happy customers. They’re mainly from women whose husbands have taken my ginseng remedy.”

His curiosity blooms, “And why is that?”

You feel a bit of heat rushing to your cheeks, “Ginseng enhances uh- drive, often times it can be used a stimulant to promote you know-” You’re hoping Yoongi will put the pieces together but instead his eyes remain expectant, “passion.”

The word makes Yoongi straighten up a bit and in an effort to look casual, he nods quickly and hums a little too loudly.

“Ah yes. Of course. Well, as I said- free food is free food right?” He wagers, his fingers rubbing at the bit of bark.

Its your turn to smirk now but, you quickly change the subject when you ask, “Is the leader of the clan secure? I didn’t see him when I passed through your camp.”

He clears his throat, bringing the bark back towards his mouth, “He is. I have him locked up just behind the trees so he isn’t able to influence the new recruits. He had an alarming number of unwilling participants within his group, many of them claimed to be brought there with the threat of physical harm.”

You kiss your teeth and shake your head, “I don’t understand that kind of behavior. I understand that sometimes desperate people do desperate things but, to exert power or harm over another person without a viable cause...it just makes no sense to me.”

He’s intrigued now and as he brings the bark back to his lips, his brow knit with curiosity, “Hm. So do you think there is a justification to steal but not to commit violence?”

You can’t figure out why your opinion would matter to him but, you sure as hell aren’t going to question the length of this conversation.

“I think that some people believe they have no other choice but to steal. Wealth and power aren’t possible without a poor man to stand on, to oppress- I don’t support the idea of taking what doesn’t belong to you but, I could see why people are driven to do so. People are growing tired of being the poor man. Senseless violence isn’t something I could find a justification for. What the raiders often do, is both so I guess-” You hesitate, “I’m conflicted.”

Yoongi is captivated by your explanations, not because they are particularly ground breaking but, because they are particularly human. You aren’t afraid to discuss the complexity of life nor are you afraid to admit when certain things confound you.

“That’s a fair assessment. Do you agree with today’s outcome?”

Your smile returns, as you adjust the basket on your arm again, “I did. Especially because it seemed to surprise everyone, myself included.”

His lips return to his smirk, “Why? Because I didn’t behead him?”

“Exactly.” You breathe out a laugh before continuing, “I for one was shocked to see you deal with the situation without your trusty viper...”

His face turns to one of incredulity, “Oh my- you're not serious are you? Do people genuinely think I keep a viper on me at all times? Do they have any idea how unpractical that is?”

Yoongi’s reaction sends you into a fit of giggles and the sound makes his lips itch again.

He decides he enjoys the sound very much.

“I’m sure you’ve set a few people straight after this morning,” You offer, wiping a bit of moisture from the corner of your eye, “I doubt the rumors will repopulate the same way after you leave.”

“What do you think of them?”

“The rumors?”

“They’re entertaining.” You shrug, “But I don’t like to make assumptions about people unless I’ve met them, not even scary and supposedly cruel generals like yourself.”

The ghost of a smile shows itself on Yoongi’s mouth and his eyes seem to glimmer, pleased with your answer.

“I wish more people had that mindset.”

It’s all he says before promptly dropping the subject again, nodding in the direction behind him, “I should probably head back to camp. I have a feeling that the longer I am away, the smaller my chances of getting any of that bread become.”

“You’re probably right, I have to be back before sunset anyway.” Your parents don’t like it when you’re out at the river after dark, “It was very nice meeting you Yoongi. I hope you enjoy the bread.”

His lips as he realizes something vital, “I’m sure I will. Forgive me, I don’t remember catching your name...”

At his observation, you extend your hand towards his, “Oh of course, my name is Y/N. Y/N Y/L/N.”

Without looking down, he grasps your hand gently as if he were afraid to break it, “Y/N- I’ll remember it.” He promises unnecessarily but it still sends a flutter through your heart, “Get home safe.”

When he releases your hand, you step back towards the bushel of Valerian before smiling once more,

“You too.”

As Yoongi departs from the river, he smirks to himself.

Perhaps this wouldn’t be the routine stop he had planned on.

Perhaps this would be so much more.

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lovee-infected · 4 years

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I'm about to start my own (twst) writing blog and I'm going around writers that I follow for some advice q*q could you give me any wisdom on what I should do when starting a writing blog? thank you!! I love your works and you're one of the writers that inspire me

Aa thank you baby I'm so happy to hear that I inspire you!! First off, good luck with the new writing blog! I'm glad that more authors are joining the fandom and wish you all the best with your works! 💞💖💞 Other than trying to keep your blog organized by creating a proper masterlist, choosing a suitable aesthetic, having a set of rules and making sure to tag all of the warnings and necessary mentions (gender of reader, n/sfw or trigger warning), I tried to come up with some useful advises that might help!

1) Keep up the great confidence!

First and the most important thing about a writing blog, is to be confident and strong. Look, you shouldn't be afraid of posting your works and sharing with the redt of the fandom, even as they're not as perfect as you want them to be. The more you write, the more you learn! And you'd grow to be better and better as you continue to share your works! Not even the greatest authors had been any perfect on their first days!

2) If you're accepting requests, try to set a limit

Being overwhelmed with asks is never pleasant, if you just open your inbox to face 500 requests you'd be to be terrified and confused and even lose your passion to work on any of them because of the stress and not knowing where to begin from. Try to set a limit based on your personal limits, how many requests do you think you can have at the time without stressing out because of how much they are? 10? 20? 50? 100? 200? Doesn't matter! If you feel like you're fine with huge numbers like 200 and 150, it's totally fine! If not, remember that setting a character limit would not only reduce the possible chance of stressing out and overwhelming anxiety but it'll also help you manage your inbox better and easier! You can start taking requests again just as soon as your inbox in cleared!

3) Try to treat yourself every once in a while!

Working on requests can be tiring and sometimes, boring. It's great if you enjoy working on requests no matter what they are but remember to write for your own pleasure every once in a while too!

Even if you have like 100 requests laying in your inbox, feel free to write self indulgent fics or something that you'd like to write even if it's super odd an irrelevant to your normal writings! Remember that you deserve to read something you enjoy just as much as the others do, so don't forget to bless yourself with that beautiful writing of yours ;) Remember that it's your blog, you are free to do everything that makes you happy or anything that you simply enjoy doing ^^

4) Remember that no matter what, toxicity always exists and it's not your fault

Look toxicity is very common to be found social medias, especially platforms like tumblr in which anonymous function exists. Even celebrities and world-famous artists might get attacked over pretty silly stuff every once in a while so it's something usual to happen! I wish you never receive any potentially harmful or rude asks or messages but if you ever do, best would be to block or simply ignore them! People in this platform can be ridiculous sometimes lol, there are people who DM creators just to spam hate and block the creator whom they spammed after wards lol, so don't even bother t waste your time with such people!

If anyone comes to your inbox/DMs/comments to say something harsh or leave a sharp critique, best would be to ignore them. Even if you like to answer or respond to reply to them tey to be chill and not take them seriously. Remember, even if they didn't like your content they could've just scrolled down without bothering to read your work, so if they had the guts to come and spam you with nonsense just because they didn't like your work, it's their fault! They didn't have to read, and it doesn't even matter if they liked your work or not! It's their problem and all, so remember not to let these kind of people get to you at all!

5) Take it easy with writing

Don't push yourself too hard, remember that not everything you write is supposed to be *perfect. This is even more serious when it comes to requests, thousands of unexpected ideas might pop up in your inbox and it makes it quite confusing to choose what to write or do!

First off, don't be any shy or anxious about rejecting the requests which don't follow your rules or come when you aren't accepting requests. Those who violate your rules aren't worthy of your time and work!

Secondly, keep this is mind that you aren't expected to be able to write everything! Sometimes the requests are hard to write, the idea seems odd or hard to understand, or sometimes you just don't feel comfortable or don't want to write it all, which is okay!

You always have the right to take/drop whichever of your requests and you don't owe anyone anything for this, it's your own blog, your work, and your content. Don't ever force yourself to write something which you don't like to write!

6) Your health is always the top priority

Remember that no matter how popular you are, how many followers you have, how many requests are left in your inbox or how much people are wishing to get more of your content, you're free to stop writing and put this wrong at a temporarily (or even permanent) hiatus.

Sometimes you just don't feel like writing, then don't write. If you feel like you're being too busy with work/family/school and anything please don't force yourself to write! Remember that your real life matters always come first!

Also, you might even need a break from writing without necessarily being really busy or sad, sometimes you just need to take a break from everything, and it's totally fine to do! Take as much time as you need and stay healthy during your breaks. It'd be even better if you don't even think of any new ideas/Aus while you're taking a break from writing so you can fully set your mind off stuff! Doesn't even matter if followers/readers are going to appreciate this or not, it's not about them, it's about you. Remember that your good readers/follwers who understand that authors are normal humans and not writing machines would surely understand if you need to take a break too!

7)Keep yourself motivated!

There might be days when you can and have the time to write, but something's holding you back. You feel like procrastinating over and over at some point lose the motivation to write. First off, that's a really normal matter to see as many of us have to struggle with laziness sometimes lol, but there are some useful tips to keep yourself Motamedi and hyped while you're planning to write! A bit of challenge would not only make it a lot more fun, but is also a good way to keep yourself motivated and inspired!

First, try prompt lists! They've always got plenty of useful ideas and inspirational quotes to use and are absolutely amazing to give you new ideas for a writing!

Second, try to challenge yourself by simple stuff like setting yourself word limits, trying to see how much you can write in an hour, use some suggested words in your stories (ex: Banana, train, knife, turkey) as a small challenge! You can also try small events (like milestone or holiday events) to celebrate on your blog with stuff like: Prompt list requests, CYOAs, character interaction and other new stuff that gives you a better motivation tp write instead of just having to work on the same, usual writing requests over and over.

Also, I suggest putting an specific hour for writing/ checking on your blog in your daily schedule as this is also a way of avoiding procrastination, instead of writing 10 requests a day and not writing anything for two weeks, try to set an schedule like writing 1-2 writings everyday! Remember to put your real life activities in the schedule too so you won't have to go through any trouble to find a balance between your real life and running a writing blog!

8) Remember the crediting/copyrights

I'm just adding this here because I can see quite a few of writers using uncredited art for their stories and it's been much and less of an issue lately ^^;

First off, the arts/headers used in your writing. Make sure not to use any uncredited card or anyone else's edit without their permission, otherwise it's nothing different from stealing the work from the original artst!

If you're going to leave a link to the artist, make sure to check on them and check if they allow reposts with credit or not. If they don't, don't use their art. If they do, make sure to give them a proper credit with a link to them! (:

Editors too on the other hand spend a very long time making their edits and and aesthetics, so not copying their work is just as important as not stealing art from the artsits!

Pinterest is filled with uncredited art and if there's a pinterest art who is not linked to the original artist, putting the empty pinterest pin link would be useless and steal counted as stealing art.

9) Stick with your own writing style!

Writing style is like signature, everyone's got their very own and unique writing style. From the way you portray characters to what elements you use as the story develops, you're totally different from each and every of other authors in this fandom!

You may sometimes wonder if your writing style is any good at all while you look at other creators writings and feel the difference, and I gotta say: It doesn't even matter what others are doing! All that is important, is you.

Don't try to change your style to become close another writer's style, your own style is great as it already is! Even if you aren't yet that experienced with writing and feel like your writing could be better, remember that your writing skills will indeed improve as you continue to write and read newer and newer stuff, so don't worry about it!

Each and every writing style has got its own beauty, not everyone may totally enjoy your style at first but and as you continue to write, you'd get to learn what makes people enjoy your writing even more or how you can attract new readers with your writings, your style will change for the better as you write!

Though it's totally fine if you feel like there are writers who inspire and motivate you, remember that you won't have to be them in order to improve! You don't need to be just like them to be great! Even if you do have some issues like being a non-native speaker which can make it quite hard for you to write, you'd automatically learn and have most of your errors fixed as the time passes. I made LOTS of mistakes in my first writings but I hardly ever make any mistakes now because I'm used to it! Though it was a bit late I finally recognized my mistakes and corrected them! And I'd continue to correct more of my mistakes as I continue to write!

10) It's very good to have different writer mutuals

This one is rather optional, just a small recommendation! Though there are many writers who might recommend this as a rather important factor for running a writing blog, I'd say that this isn't necessary as there are still well-known tumblr authors and even twst authors who gained attention to themselves on their own and not with the help and support of any mutuals or writer friends, so it isn't impossible to be successful even without having any mutuals!

The thing with having mutuals is that it makes everything easier. A totally new twst blog can gain around 100 followers on its first without even posting anything more than a writing and a list of rules only because of being supported and boosted by well-known blogs while a for normal blog without any support or boosting, it may take up to 2-3 weeks or even an entire month to gain that 100!

Also, getting to talk with different authors (especially those who are more experienced than you) is motivational and heartwarming, you can feel like you have a team to belong to. You can discuss different writing ideas/issues/blog chores with them and see what they may think. You can even have their support with new ideas if you feel stuck/unmotivated while writing a piece!

I didn't have any mutuals on my first days either and I admit that this made things a bit hard, but it didn't hold me back from continuing to write! Yet I admit that it's surely very useful to have a couple of writer friends around you whom you can share your ideas with! Mutuals support each other, reblog each other's works and give each other a better chance of having their works read by more users, which is quite amazing and helpful!

11) Go for it and don't give up!

Remember that no one, not even the greatest writing blogs have been perfect on their first days. They weren't well-known back then either! And they wouldn't have been any successful today without being hard-working and strong. Leaving up to the previous 10 rules is the hardest part of having a blog, and it's all about not giving up!

Do not try to judge your writing and talents based on the amount of notes your posts get or how many followers you have, because these aren't ever going to show your true worth and talents! But I assure you, if you continue to write even through your hard days, your unmotivated days and your sad days no matter how hard it's supposed to be, everything will change. The more you write, the higher the chance of having new people find and read your works would be! Keeping up the hard work and believing in yourself is the key to achieving anything you may wish for, even having a successful writing blog!

As you continue to write, you'll get more readers, more notes on your posts, more followers and more people who enjoy your content!

Hope that these are helpful, wish you all the greatest and good luck with your writing blog!!💞💕💞💕💞💕💞💕💞💕💞💕💞💕💞💕💞💕💞💕💞

#answered #twst #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twisted Wonderland x reader #writing #writing tips #writing blog tips

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sheepfulsheepyardinspace · 4 years

Note

Do you have any Star Wars fanfic recommendations, or have a link to someone else's list? I really wanna veg out.

oh my god, DO I. this may have been the best ask in the world. i’m not really sure what u want a feel for, so i threw together some of my favorite longfics for maximum veg time from the ot/pt and links for swr and swtcw recs. they’re pretty much all luke-anakin/vader centric, since that’s kinda my bread and butter.

let’s start with frodogenic, who wrote the first longfic i ever read in sw and might be one of the funniest authors ever. they once reviewed my fanfic & i nearly cried from joy. anyway.

The Father, 284k+, complete. “Ten years after ROTS, tormenting nightmares of his unborn child drive Darth Vader to extraordinary measures with unexpectedly drastic consequences. Clearly, experience has taught Darth Vader nothing...”

this is my og star wars fic and boy oh boy is it amazing. i will never get over this. i don’t want to spoil anything but when i say the final chapters are great? i mean they’re legendary. sometimes i still think about them & wish upon a star that i could be such a great writer. vader’s amazing, han is spectacular, and the ocs are fantastic.

Far More Than Rubies, 70k+, complete. “Nine years after AOTC, tragedy revisits the Lars Homestead. Little Luke Skywalker is suddenly plunged into chaos as the rebel movements discover a secret military project that may make a crucial difference in the war with the Empire.”

the spiritual twin of The Father, FMTR takes a look at padmé’s character and relationship with both luke and anakin/vader that’s hard to beat. it’s darker and heavier than The Father, but it hits those same sweet, sweet emotional beats while raising the age-old question: if padmé had lived, what would she have done?

The Family Tree, 12k, complete. “In which Luke Skywalker is stranded in a tree waiting for a flash flood to recede. Too bad he's got company...”

okay, i admit, this isn’t a longfic, but it is a longshot, and it’s amazing. the imagery and description always blow me away, and the interaction (canon-compliant) between luke and vader just [chef’s kiss] get me. vader’s in full, glorious form, and it makes it all the harder when luke wrestles with the knowledge that vader is his father.

Sibling Revelry, 25k, complete. “After Bespin and before Endor, Darth Vader is shocked to discover that Luke and Leia are twins. He's even more shocked when Imperial Intelligence reports that Organa and Skywalker are, erm, a tad closer than previously suspected.”

this is complete crack and humor in the best way possible. it’s crack treated entirely seriously, and you will be in stitches, i promise. no matter how many times i’ve read this i break down.

KittandChips (@kittandchips) writes what i can only describe as food for the soul. the luke-vader interaction is insanely amazing, the world building of daily imperial life and imperial governance is amazing, and vader just has a special je ne sais quoi that u must read to understand––tragic, funny, and so, so fatherly. they’re currently rewriting the Force Bond Series to fit in with newer canon, so i will joyously binge reread the entire again (including the new Force Bond: Mustafar Weekend).

Force Bond 1: Orphan, 47k, complete. “After Owen and Beru are killed by a mysterious stranger, young Luke ends up as an orphan on Coruscant. It's a race against time as Obi-Wan struggles to find Luke before Vader realizes the boy is his son.”

Orphan kicks off the series, which tracks vader and luke’s relationship through the perils of luke’s teenagerhood while growing up under the eye of the emperor and imperial court. it’s filled with slow growth, struggle and misunderstandings as darth vader tries to single parent, and pay off in every installment. the entire series clocks in around 777k+ and is the most joyful, fulfilling reading you’ll ever have. promise.

darth-nickels (@darth--nickels) writes darker, twistier, and terribly, terribly heartwrenching aus. they’ve got a whole host, but let me introduce to my two favorites. also, check out their faux-academia on vader. it’s amazing and i love it, but i admit i am an academia hoe.

Dooku Captured, Pt 2, 16k, complete. “Dooku is taken alive onboard the Invisible Hand, and Sidious' web is torn. The Sith Lord wonders if death might have been preferable to clumsy interrogation by Anakin Skywalker.”

Dooku Captured is a longshot au told from Dooku’s pov which takes the beginning of ROTS and throws it on its head. it’s a fascinating outside perspective of anakin and obi-wan’s relationship and such and interesting examination of dooku’s psyche and especially his complex relationship with the jedi order, qui-gon, yoda, and palpatine. i cannot rec this one enough.

Black Mirror, 90k, incomplete. “The Ghost crew returns to the Lothal when they hear the Empire is investigating the Jedi Temple there. They learn Vader is alone and decide to take him out-- but what they find could change the course of Galactic history.”

Black Mirror diverges into swr territory, but make no mistake: this is entirely an examination of vader and, later, obi-wan as well as ahsoka. luke makes his appearance later in the game, and boy oh boy will you love luke’s portrayal is a microcosm of luke and vader’s relationship within canon. heed the tags, though.

jerseydevious ( @jerseydevious ) is, first and foremost, one of my favorite people on earth. secondly, though, she’s an amazing writer with a deep understanding of vader’s character and psyche, a flair for beautiful depictions, and the true ability to wring every emotion out of your body.

Two and a Half Men (with a baby), 13k, incomplete. “After a long day of bargaining with Hutts and attempting to ignore his past, Darth Vader is nearing the end of his rope. When he discovers his two-year-old son, it's the straw that breaks the semi-rational Sith Lord's back; in a rash act worthy of the Skywalker name, he scoops his son into his arms, steals a shuttle from his own fleet, and punches in random hyperspace coordinates to a destination on the other side of the galaxy. Unfortunately, father and son are not the only ones on the ship.”

Two and a Half Men will stick with you, dude. like no other. i promise. it’s a whirlwind ride with obi-wan, vader, and piett and as funny as it is heartbreaking. it touches on some heavy issues and doesn’t shy away from looking at the damage done to vader––again, heed the tags.

Helioseismology, 4k, complete. “Luke gets shot down on a supply run and caught in an ice storm. It's extremely lucky that his father followed him there.“

i’ll admit. im completely biased about this one because it was a birthday gift to me and i am sucker for litcherally anything when jd puts pen to paper, but believe me when i say you will be awed by the depth and tangled relationships between these luke and vader that jersey can illustrate in a stroke of the paintbrush. im love. always.

izzythehutt ( @izzythehutt ) i am blown away by the intricate dialogue and characterization, always. and the latin puns? im sold. im also a sucker for latin puns, but that’s a story for a different time.

In Loco Pirates, 34k, complete. “A down-on-his-luck Hondo Ohnaka manages to capture the unicorn of all bounties--Luke Skywalker, which sends Darth Vader, Lord of the Sith, on a painfully familiar trip to the planet Florrum to collect his prize. The failed negotiations leave Vader in the awkward position of being stuck in a besieged pirate bunker, trying to balance keeping his wayward child safe (and in his custody) with controlling the tongue of a loose-lipped pirate who--to the surprise of no one--has a bad habit of telling 'amusing' anecdotes from the Clone Wars.”

hondo, aka the best character of swtcw, is brought to life just as vividly on paper as on screen. his entire personality brings luke and vader’s difficulties in a sort of incredulous light, which makes it as funny as it is vulnerable and tragic. the sequel, Palpatine Ad Portas, brings piett into the spotlight, and oh man do his interactions with palpatine and vader bring u all the uncomfortable vibes. relish in it.

sparklight ( @littlesparklight ) man. lemme introduce u to an amazing prolific and detailed writer. i will never get over the series they’ve written & neither will u.

Where Our Intrepid Hero Doesn’t Get Away, 122k, incomplete. “One-shots surrounding either AU situations of canon/legends works where Luke would normally have gotten away (or Vader is simply inserted into the action to come pick his child up) but in these instances doesn't, or completely new scenarios of the same. There are no deep ruminations on consequences of the situations here, just our awful Sith dad picking his son up when he'd rather not be.”

exactly what it says on the tin. u know those glorious moments of fanfic where luke’s gotten captured and ur on pins and needles, waiting for vader to show up in a moment of dark glory? here’s the moment. here’s all the moments.

Space Race, 122k, incomplete. “Owen gives in to Luke's wish to attend the Imperial Academy and Obi-Wan is too late to avert it, though he's not too late to make sure Luke leaves Arkanis before Vader can gets his hands on him. Luke spends over a month running around the galaxy before his father gets him, and from there...”

this story relishes in chase and boy is it fun. it will keep you on the edge of your seat and it’s an amazing ride.

The Suns of Tatooine, 85k, complete. “Luke ends up on a moon swamped in dark side energy after a mission goes wrong, then his father appears... and then they go on a bit of a learning experience. This could've been the only thing that would come of getting through a Sith complex with his father, but thanks to going to free Han earlier than the gang did otherwise, more revelations are had. Will that change anything?”

this series is a thoughtful, contemplative piece examining the nature of the force and the relationship the skywalkers have with tatooine. the descriptions are beautiful, the inventiveness is amazing, and you’ll be thinking about it for long afterwards.

an additional few…

Between Flight and Longing; 34k, complete. “Luke Skywalker and Han Solo journey to the planet Balen'ar on a desperate mission and find more than they'd bargained for.”

a classic and it is for a reason. the interaction between han, luke, and vader is so spectacular and the slow trudge of going through the forest with your greatest enemy and best friend is something hilarious. the end is bittersweet and fantastic.

The Sith Who Brought Life Day, 13k, complete. “An Imperial officer loses a bet and has to get Darth Vader a present for Life Day.”

somewhere between terrifying and dull, this fic presents a canon-compliant look at the hunt for luke and the grinding wheels of the empire. the oc is amazing and it echoes in true star wars spirit: sometimes it’s just some dude who can change the galaxy.

Quintessence, 5k, complete. ‘“Well, Master, I think I’ve found the one positive aspect of this situation.” “Which is?” “The Temple won’t have to pay the costs for our funeral pyres.”’

pure hilarity and shenanigans abound in pre-aotc obi-wan and anakin hijink goodness. lemme tell u––u will deeply sympathize with mace windu afterwards. additionally, check out the rest of the author’s oneshots! they’re deeply thoughtful and the interactions the author writes between obi-wan and anakin are always gold.

some extras & shameless self-promotion

here’s a full list of recommendations for star wars rebels fanfic in case this is what you’re looking for (remember when this used to be a swr blog, lmao)

i’ve also written sw fanfic, both swr and luke-vader centric. drop by and tell me if it’s any good!

#also if anybody knows these authors' tumblr accounts pls lmk so i can link them #guys remember piett?#i miss piett #firmus piett #star wars #star wars fanfic #sw fanfic #sw fic #three two one boom #jerseydevious #luke skywalker #darth vader #anakin skywalker #star wars rebels #late-in-the-day #idk if any of these r new at all to anyone #but they r my faves :)

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greatqueenanna · 4 years

Text

Why A Frozen Heart does not support a redemption for Hans.

Whenever I explore the Helsa tag for neat fanart and ideas, I always come across a post or two about Elizabeth Rudnick’s book, A Frozen Heart, and why this book supports the idea that Hans should get a redemption arc. It is no secret that I’ve talked about this book before in debates on my Hans related posts, and why I actually don’t consider this book part of the Frozen Franchise Canon.

Jen Lee and Chris Buck had no involvement in it. I cannot find any sources where Jen Lee, Chris Buck or Elizabeth Rudnick talking about this book.

There are a number of inconsistencies between the book and the original film Frozen. I4

It is labeled as a ‘retelling’ for young adults, basically telling a story differently than what was presented in canon. It’s almost a remake.

Disney Corp. doesn’t seem to consider it canon either, given the fact that they presented this image at the Hyperion Frozen Performance in 2016.

To give some perspective, A Frozen Heart was written in 2015. If it the book was 100% canon, then they would have to acknowledge the family from that book in this performance. Also, Frozen Heart talks about how some of his brothers have blonde hair, to which here they all have red.

But with this being said, because of the fact that it keeps being brought up by the Hans Redemption fan-base, I feel it is finally time for me to revisit the book - I re-read all of Hans’ chapters, and after doing this, this is my conclusion -

Hans is still very much portrayed with sociopathic traits and still does not deserve a redemption arc, as he is very conniving and evil in this book, just as his whole family. I do agree that the portrayal of him as a sociopath is not the greatest in this book, as he demonstrates fear and anxiety. Regardless, he still shows traits of being narcissistic and manipulative, and states himself that he doesn’t feel emotions, which are big traits when it comes to ASPD.

More Under the read more. *WARNING*, this section i going to be very long, sorry.

Evidence 1: Fleeting Sympathy

The first evidence of sociopathic traits comes early on, when Hans supposedly feels sympathy for his oldest brother’s wife.

She (Caleb’s Wife) looked painfully uncomfortable, and for a brief moment, Hans felt sorry for her(....)Well, at least father is kind to her. Hans acknowledged, some of his sympathy fading. (pg. 27)

Now, it is easy to misinterpret this quote as Hans showing empathy. However, the author labels this as sympathy, not empathy. What’s the difference?

Sympathy is like pity, where someone will acknowledge that someone is suffering. Empathy is when someone actually feels bad about it, and wants to help said person or see them feel better.

Here, Hans simply acknowledges that Caleb’s wife is suffering, but doesn’t feel out right sorry for her. In fact, it states that Hans only felt sorry for her for a brief moment, and this pity is fleeting. Why? Because Hans puts his own suffering above hers.

If Hans actually felt empathy for her, he wouldn’t acknowledge his own suffering, and instead just comment on how uncomfortable she looks. For example -

“She looked painfully uncomfortable. Hans felt bad for her; he knew what it was like to be ignored and her struggle made him wince.”

Or something like that. But Hans is actually saying this -

“Well, she’s suffering, and that’s sad, but my life is worse so who cares.”

Here, it clearly shows that while Hans can recognize that people can be sad, but will always put his own emotions and needs above other’s.

Evidence 2: Disrespect

Now on to how Hans treats Lars. Lars has an understanding with Hans because he used to be the younger brother, thus he’s nicer to Hans. Hans even recognizes that Lars is the only person he can talk to - but there’s a catch. Hans only wants to talk about himself.

On pg. 39, Hans states that Lars could go on and on about History. The chapter states that while Hans find his hobby endearing, he refuses to listen for more than a few minutes, often getting up and leaving without telling him anything. This shows that Hans has no real respect for Lars or his interests, and only indulges him because Lars is the only one who treats Hans nicer.

On page 60, Hans also shows disgust for the villagers giving him something in place of tax payments, showing no sympathy for their situation and finding their alternate payments disgusting.

Evidence 2 Envy for Power and Praise.

There is a moment in the book where Hans daydreams about being the only son, and getting constant attention from his father. This is on page 28 - 29.

His frustration here is not that the King is abusive, but that his father ignores him. And only him. In fact, he indirectly insults his older brother.

“Hans wondered if Caleb even appreciated his father’s attention.”

Without considering his brother’s emotions or stance on the subject, Hans shrugs away any empathy for his brother and out write states that Caleb doesn’t appreciate the attention he gets from their father.

Of course, the argument could be made that Hans’ brothers treat him poorly, so there’s no reason for him to feel pity for them. And while that may be true for some of his brothers, Caleb has never been shown to be abusive towards him. Thus, his envious comments are unwarranted. He simply doesn’t like him because Caleb receives the attention from his father that Hans craves.

It is also worthy to note that Hans does not desire love or compassion from his father. He only wants him to give him what he believes he is entitled to - praise and becoming a King.

Later on, Hans basically becomes a lapdog to his father in order to convince him to let him go to Arendelle. The author mentions this -

“Even now, when he had been given a role of some honor, he couldn’t let go of the bitterness of his past. But never mind that, he thought, I’ll show them soon enough.” (Pg. 58)

This shows that even now when he has slowly started to earn respect from his father, and gaining an honorable position at his side, it is not enough for him. He craves more power, and only becoming a King will supposedly satisfy this thirst.

On Page 85, Hans shows envy at Anna and Elsa sharing a bond.

Evidence 4 Objectifying Others

Hans feels entitled for a wife in the early pages of the book. This goes to show that Hans does not view women as people, but as objects to further his own status.

“And while he had heard the royal affairs coordinator discussing possible suitors for his brothers, Hans had not heard a peep about a possible wife for him.” (Pg. 32)

Later on, when Lars tells Hans about Elsa being single, he essentially treats her as if she’s a tool for his advantage, not a human being.

“This plan meant getting his father to trust him and convincing a woman he had never met to marry him(...)He would have to stop spending his days daydreaming and learn how to become more conniving.” (Pg. 42)

It’s so easy for Hans to just accept the fact that he would need to be conniving in order to get what he wants. He doesn’t feel bad for thinking it, nor does he try to consider what Elsa has been though. She’s just the mysterious princess who he needs to convince to marry him. Nothing more.

“No matter what Queen lay in wait for him inside Arendelle’s castle, Hans knew that he would find a way to become her King.” (Pg. 59)

Again, overall disinterest in Elsa as a human being, and only refers to her as a ‘what’ and that she is his for the taking. This is further supported on Pg. 65, when he runs into Anna thinking its Elsa.

“That, he thought, could not have gone better. Princess Elsa of Arendelle was practically his!”

Later on, after the run in, Hans is disappointed that he ran into Anna instead of Elsa, even considering running into her a joke. Pg. 71 -72. The only time he starts to consider Anna, is when he realizes that Elsa is unreachable. “Considering” is a strong word or course, as he is basically just throwing away one item and getting another, easily talking about how he wants to overthrow Elsa.

“It was all obvious now. He would marry Anna and overthrow Elsa.” (Pg. 77)

Again, Hans is so easily able to just announce these things without feeling even a bit of remorse, and treats the sisters as tools.

We’re not even half way through the novel yet, and Hans has already showed his blatant disrespect for others, objectification of others, bitterness, and entitlement for power and possessions. Not once has he shown any sort of reluctance or empathy for his actions and thoughts, and has an unquenchable thirst for power.

To avoid this getting too long, I’m going to do a “Lightning Round” of quotes that shows Hans’ terrible nature.

“Hans let a out a sigh of relief as a warm feeling flooded his chest. Now, now, he told himself. Remember why you’re here. This is a business transaction, nothing more.” Pg. 100

While throughout the novel Hans does indeed show that he actually might have some kind of admiration for Anna, and even enjoys some of her antics, he makes it very clear that he has no interest in actually falling in love with her and stops himself when he thinks he might be enjoying her company.

Next, while Anna and Hans are trying to tell Elsa about their engagement -

“Hans remembered the advice from his father(...)If you wanted to get someone to like you, you just had to act like a mirror. People love their own reflections.” (Pg. 104)

This shows that even in the novel’s universe, Hans purposefully mirrors people because he knows it will get people to like him.

This is a big one. When Hans and his men find Elsa’s beautiful grove -

“Hans had been clinging to one single reassuring thought: Elsa was a monster. (...) It was this, her utter lack of humanity, which guaranteed Hans his chance to be a Hero. If the people of Arendelle feared Elsa, they would want her to be captured and restrained. They would want her to abdicate her throne, and in turn, they would want Hans to take it.(...) All he had to was make sure that she never created anything like this again. He would destroy this glen and any trace of beauty.” (Pg. 198 - 199)

In this long passage that I summarized to the main points, Hans displays disappointment and how disgusted he is that Elsa is capable of beauty, because he wants everyone to think she’s a monster. He even states that he will destroy all evidence of Elsa’s beauty.

The book also recognizes Hans’ actions towards the chandelier.

Hans looked around the room desperate for a plan, and noticed the giant chandelier directly above Elsa. (...) True, it might kill her, but would that be so bad? One less obstacle to the throne.” (Pg. 226)

Chapter 26 showcases the darkest Hans has ever been throughout the novel. The entire chapter is filled with such hateful and entitled comments from him, it’s ridiculous. Honestly, I could sit here and quote the whole chapter. But let’s just get a couple of the worst things.

“Hans shook his head, He wasn’t there to fill a hole in Anna’s heart. He was there to win a throne. (...) The Westargaards didn’t do emotion - that was the one legacy he had been given.” (Pg. 244)

This confirms that Hans doesn’t feel emotions, something he feels he inherited from his family.

Now, this one hurts. I wanted to cry for Anna. I want this quote to really sink in, especially for those that feel that this book justifies a redemption arc for Hans.

“Did she honestly think this was one such tale? Hans couldn’t help himself. After years of bullying by his brothers, after years of taking the joke but never making the joke, after years of being the thirteenth son, he was going to get the last laugh. And he wanted to make it count. (...) She looked up at him, confusion racing across her face. At one time, he might of pretended to care. But he was done playing games.” (Pg. 244 - 245)

A few quick observations -

Later, on page 258, Hans states that the reason he didn’t like to be a murderer was because he didn’t want to be considered a brute, not because he felt anything for Elsa (or Anna for that matter).

On page 271, Hans states that he feels ‘pride’ when Elsa falls down in grief over her sister’s death.

And finally, after everything was said and done, and Hans had failed, he feels absolutely no remorse for his actions, and instead shows pity to only himself.

“If only I had acted a moment sooner, Hans had thought. Then they (the sisters) would never have known forgiveness. Never felt the love of a sibling again. Just like me. Just like my entire life. Elsa would have been dead. Anna would’ve followed soon after, and I would have taken what I deserve.” (Pg. 285 - 286)

And with that, I put this book down. While, again, there is no concrete evidence to say that this book might be considered canon, I still respect what Elizabeth Rudnick wrote here, despite that some of her facts were a little off. She was really good at being able to capture a sociopathic mind, and even able to give me chills, even if it wasn’t perfect at all times.

There is honestly no source, no canon or non-canon work, that supports a redemption arc for Hans. Even in A Frozen Heart, contrary to popular belief.

#greatqueenanna/analysis #Frozen #Frozen: A Frozen Heart #Prince Hans

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keelywolfe · 4 years

Text

FIC: Déjà Vu All Over Again (standalone)

Summary: A little look at how a reset might appear to someone on the other side of the button.

Notes: Here's some Sansby for y'all. M for mature!

Tags: Undertale Sans, Undertale Grillby, Sansby, Lemony goodness, Resets

Read it on AO3

Read it here!

~~*~~

It was late enough that the snow outside was falling into a hushed darkness. The glow of a sign flickered from open to closed, the shades drawn down, and the front door shut with the quiet click of a lock.

From his usual seat, Sans let his head drop lower to rest his forehead on his folded arms.

"s’rry, grillbz, i know it’s closing time." Silence, but that was all right. Grillby was nothing if not assertive and if he wanted Sans gone, he'd already be packing it in. Normally, he wouldn't need to ask, but tonight didn't feel like it was well-acquainted with normal. The chill outside seemed as though it was waiting for him to get up, ready to grasp him with icy fingers as he made his way home and Sans was in no rush to give it the chance.

The second-to-last customer had shuffled out into the night some few minutes before and the bar was already wiped down. Sans could hear the rasp of the broom and the quiet crackle of Grillby moving behind him. Soothing in its normality and Sans let himself drift, not quite asleep nor awake.

As always, Grillby's voice was less of a sound and more of a presence. Your brother will be waiting for you.

"mmmhmm," Sans mumbled into his folded arms. He would, maybe. The lack of texts made that less likely and much as Papyrus appreciated a bedtime story, there was a good chance he'd had an inkling of Sans's mood and decided to let him be for tonight. He could be startlingly perceptive like that; yet another reason his bro was the coolest.

A sudden rush of warmth tickled across the back of his neck, delicate and precise, a single finger of flame tracing his cervical spine. Drifting into his hoodie to follow the line of his jaw.

"like that is it?" Sans asked, sleepily, rousing enough to lean into the touch. Grillby didn’t often offer and Sans didn’t always accept but tonight…tonight it seemed too cold outside, home seemed too far away even with a shortcut, and Paps was probably already asleep. Still, he couldn't resist adding, "got a burning desire tonight, do ya?"

Silence. Sans wondered if he was about to get tossed out on his non-existent ear and accepted it as his due. Instead, he felt a gust of heated air on the back of his skull, almost like a reluctant chuckle. Hey, that was already better than most of his audiences.

Sans stretched, bracing his hands in the small of his back and groaning. "we gonna do this upstairs like adults?"

A crackle of agreement, less words than simple approval, and Sans knew the way. Not like it was hard to figure out; a trip through the fire escape, past the kitchen, and up the stairs was hardly a puzzle worthy of his brother’s usual.

He'd barely made it through the door when a sudden rush of heat pressed against his back, flaring over him as fiery arms wrapped around him. Drawing him insistently towards the sofa and Sans could appreciate that, the way Grillby tugged him along rather than scooping him up. That was something about Grillbz that Sans had always cherished, ‘cause nothing put Sans off his game faster than getting yanked off his feet. He was short, yeah, but he wasn't a kid and wasn't about to let anyone treat him like one.

Grillby sat on the sofa, drawing Sans in to stand between his legs. Not exactly the subtlest of hints.

“oh, you really are in a mood,” Sans murmured. He could count on one hand the amount of times Grillby had wanted him on top, a fire elemental's dominating nature coupled with Sans’s natural laziness.

But tonight, ah, tonight didn't feel like an ordinary night.

He let Grillby pull him in, drawing him down, and that heat, stars, just

______________

Stay Determined!

______________

It was late enough that the snow outside was falling into a hushed darkness. The glow of a sign flickered from open to closed, the shades drawn down and the door closed with the quiet click of a lock.

From his usual seat, Sans shifted uncomfortably, feeling oddly warm, prickles of unaccustomed heat rippling over his bones. Absently, he rubbed a hand over his skull, grimacing as magic-laced sweat clung to it.

Sans could hear the rasp of the broom and the quiet crackle of Grillby moving behind him. It should have been soothing, homely; instead, it made Sans feel restless and wanting.

"hey, uh, you mind if i…" he started, trailing off. Sans had never actually initiated, well, any of this. From the very beginning, it was Grillby who'd escalated ridiculous jokes into subtle flirting into…well, whatever this was. If he'd ever expected Sans to put any effort into it, he'd never said so, and Sans was usually more than content to follow wherever Grillby was leading this.

A sudden clatter behind him made him jump, half-turning to see what the sound was and he only caught a glimpse of the fallen broom before he was caught in a set of fiery arms, flailing briefly in shock as heat engulfed him.

Flames licked over him painlessly and Sans sighed, leaning back into their soothing caress. "sounds like a yes to me," Sans slurred out, and he couldn't bite back a whimper as a concentrated lick of heat trailed down his jawline to his collarbo

______________

Stay Determined!

______________

It was late enough that the snow outside was falling into a hushed darkness. The glow of a sign flared as ‘open’ faltered into ‘closed’ before the shades came crashing down, one side hanging lopsidedly, and the door slammed shut with a sharp crack.

Sans nearly fell off the stool, already struggling to strip off his hoodie. Grillby was flickering wildly, coming towards him so quickly it was as if he were the one who could teleport. Both hands fisting in Sans’s t-shirt and Sans could faintly smell the material scorching as (and for once he didn't protest the manhandling, not tonight, not, not,) he was lifted off his feet to sit on the edge of the bar, one slipper falling free. Kissing a fire elemental was a lot like licking a charred ember, bitter carbon and heat against his conjured tongue and

______________

You Cannot Give Up Just Yet...

______________

It was late enough that the snow outside was falling--

“oh, come on!” Sans burst out, flopping back onto the floor. His shirt was damp with sweat, his hoodie hanging off one arm as he struggled to get it off, off!

Grillby rolled them so that Sans was on top, practically falling between his legs, both of them struggling to undo his belt, fuck, why couldn’t he wear shorts like Sans did, and his moan echoed through Sans’s skull as he got a hand between Grillby’s legs. His cunt wasn’t wet, how the fuck could it be, but it was something, slippery to the touch, all but sucking his fingers in greedily and Sans jerked his shorts down, his cock so hard it ached, felt like he’d been hard for fucking ever when he managed to line up and push into that slippery, wicked heat, their mutual scream echoing through the bar.

Sans was too short to kiss and fuck at the same time, had to settle for watching Grillby writhe under him and yeah, that was fine, got him a front row seat to the show. The way his fingers scrabbling against the floor as Sans started to thrust, leaving blackened scorch marks, his soundless cries reverberating through Sans’s skull like shouting in a cave in Waterfall, fuck, yes, gorgeous as hell. The ripple of his pussy around Sans’s cock was almost uncomfortably hot and he was already embarrassingly close, orgasm spangling its way up his spine while the salt taste of his own sweat clung thickly to the back of his tongue.

Close, so fucking close, he was cl

______________

You're Going To Be Alright!

______________

Sans accepted the cigarette wearily, pulling in a long drag. The floor of the bar was clean enough, but it sure as fuck didn’t meet the librarby dictionary’s definition of comfortable. The smoke filled his rib cage as he inhaled, nicotine incorporating into his magic along with the weird, sated feeling of somehow being well fucked. Didn’t make any kind of sense, how they went from Grillbz closing the bar to somehow ending up on the floor with an afterglow, but eh, Sans wasn’t gonna question it too hard.

“someday, you’re going to have to explain how you manage to roll your own, grillbz,” Sans said, lazily. Grillby’s cig was smoldering to cinders from the first second it touched his ‘mouth’.

His arm without the cigarette worked decently as a sort of overly warm pillow beneath Sans’s skull. Nice thing about not having bones of his own was that Grillbz could twist his arm about any which way he liked, which, right now meant his warm fingers were grazing against Sans’s jawline. Stay over?

Sans snorted aloud, leaning into that touch. "may as well. the way things are going, seems like this could be a long nigh

-fin

#Sansby #keelywolfe #fanfiction #lemony goodness

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stormyblue90 · 4 years

Text

Blessed by the Gods pt. 2

Alexios meets his niece and nephew! Continuation of this oneshot!

Also tagging @alexi-ohs for some soft, post-Deimos Alexios.

Familiar red and white buildings came into view as the sun began to set behind the Taygetos mountain range. Alexios had finally returned to the lands of Sparta after being gone for three months. It was still strange to him, returning and having a growing sense of familiarity. The only reason it started to feel like he could possibly make a home here was his sister and mother. Had it not been for them, he'd still be the Cult's weapon, the monster Deimos.

It had only been two years since that day on Taygetos, Alexios was still gradually finding himself within the shell of Deimos. He still struggled with the occasionally violent outburst when provoked, or nightmares. They had thankfully, lessened as of late, his last nightmare had been just before he left on the Adrestia. He had come to take after his older sister becoming a mercenary. It was the only lifestyle it seemed he could be suited for now. Before, he had travelled together with Kassandra, however this was the first time he had been on his own due to her being a delicate condition. He was thankful for never having an episode while away. He had no intention of hurting his sister's friends onboard the ship.

"So how does it feel to return home?" Barnabas asked, his boisterous voice catching Alexios' attention.

"I'm...not sure." Alexios answered. "It's not something I'm used to."

"Perhaps with time you will." replied the soft voice of Herodotos, also accompanying Alexios' return to Sparta.

Alexios nodded silently, hoping that the old man would be right.

Both of Kassandra's friends had been willing to give her brother a chance, whether at her suggestion or not Alexios wasn't sure, nor did he care. He was thankful someone else outside his immediate family was willing. Slowly he had begun to befriend them as well. It wasn't hard to see why Kassandra enjoyed their company. Barnabas was bombastic, friendly, and his spirits never dampened. A welcome change from the fear, disgust, and coldness he had grown up with in the Cult. Herodotos was quieter, but patient. Alexios knew the man was insatiably curious, but he never asked uncomfortable questions. He would let Alexios open up on his own terms, at his own pace.

"How long has it been? Three months since you left these lands?" Herodotos asked.

"I think so." Alexios answered.

"Ha! By now you should be an uncle!" Barnabas cried.

He was right, when Alexios first left, Kassandra looked as if she was about to burst from her pregnancy. No doubt his niece or nephew had been born while he was away.

"You're right Barnabas. Hm, I wonder if I have a nephew or niece?"

"No matter, I'm sure they will the strongest warrior in all of Hellas!"

Alexios put on a mock face of offense before saying. "Only after ME of course!", causing the older men to chuckle.

Finally the three of them made it to the shared house of Kassandra and Brasidas, his sister carrying a large basket of fruit and vegetables inside.

"Good to see you're not fat anymore!" Alexios called out in a joking manner.

"I was not FAT! I was pregnant- Barnabas! Herodotos!" Kassandra turned and smiled seeing her old friends. "I didn't expect you two to come with Alexios."

"And miss out meeting the new member of the family? HA! Of course not!" Barnabas cried.

"I do hope motherhood has been kind to you Kassandra." Herodotos said.

"Well, it has been...surprising, and my biggest challenge yet. Please, come inside. I do hope you will be staying for dinner."

"Of course Kassandra, of course."

All three men followed her inside, finding Brasidas with the newborn twins, telling them various stories.

"By the Gods! You've had twins!" Barnabas exclaimed.

"How remarkable, congratulations to you both." Herodotos said, seeing the two swaddled bundles with Brasidas.

"Yes, twins. A boy and a girl." Kassandra replied.

"Like Apollo and Artemis!" Barnabas said. "You have truly been blessed!"

"Barnabas, Herodotos! It is good to see you here." Brasidas welcomed.

Kassandra sat the basket on the table in the kitchen before walking towards her husband, taking one of the twins, her daughter Zenais.

"Was Pater telling you exciting stories again little ones?" she asked, cradling her daughter who softly cooed in reply.

"Oh yes, I was telling them the story of how we met and fought in the Monger's burning warehouse." Brasidas said.

"Oooh how exciting!" Kassandra replied as her daughter giggled more.

Both parents brought their children to the older men, offering to let them hold their children.

"This is Zenais, in the red blanket." Kassandra said as she offered Barnabas the wrapped bundle.

"Awww look how small and cute she is!" He said, gently tickling the baby's nose, causing her to giggle and grasp at his finger.

Brasidas allowed Herodotos to hold the second child wrapped in white, "And this one is our little Leonidas. Though we sometimes call him Leon for short."

"Named for his great grandfather I see. Quite the legacy young one."

"Well, he was born with birthmarks resembling the constellation of Leo. It seemed to be fate." Brasidas replied. "And Zenais with an eagle shaped mark."

"Ah fate is a funny thing indeed. Who knows what these little ones will destined for." Barnabas responded.

"They'll be destined for whatever they choose, and a life full of love." Kassandra said.

Alexios stood by, quiet, letting the old man coo and fawn over the babies as if they were their own grandchildren. With how close they were to Kassandra, they might as well be. He felt rather awkward however, while he had been expecting to be an uncle for quite some time, it was still shocking to see. To know it was real, and not some distant dream he'd wake from. Alexios didn't know how to behave around, or approach a baby, leading to his sense of awkwardness. Something so innocent and fragile. He didn't even feel worthy to be in the same room as a newborn, let alone his own niece and nephew.

While the old men were happy to hold the newborns, Alexios made no effort to suggest he might want to. In truth, he was afraid to hold either of them. Afraid he'd hurt them, break them. Even though he had recovered immensely, he still felt unworthy to hold something so pure.

"Alexios?" Kassandra said, walking towards him. "Is something wrong?"

"I-I uh...never seen a baby before." he replied, quite sheepishly, shifting on his feet awkwardly.

Kassandra rolled her eyes, "Of all the things in the world that make you hesitate, it's a baby!" she chided. "It's ok, you won't hurt them by being in the same room. No need to be so anxious. This should be a good experience for you."

"I'm not so sure... But I hope you're right." he replied, cautiously walking over to them. He still dare not hold them.

Within a moment, his face changed from anxious hesitation, to curiosity.

"They're so small. And... pink." he said, looking down at his niece.

"Of course they are! They're BABIES Alexios." Kassandra replied. "Honestly they were much smaller and pinker three months ago when they were born."

Alexios glanced at her, a bit miffed at her tone. He just told her he'd had never seen a baby before, how was he supposed to know? He only knew they'd be small, but not quite how small, let alone pink and squishy looking.

A few hours had passed, dinner and wine was served and eaten, and numerous stories passed between everyone. The people and places Herodotos has seen, how Kassandra and Brasidas were adjusting to parenthood, the jobs Alexios had taken, and several of Barnabas' tall tales. A number of which he told with great enthusiasm to the twins who were both enraptured with his tales of monsters and gods; almost as if they already understood everything he said.

"They do love to be told stories." Brasidas had mentioned earlier. "Certainly helps calm them down when they get upset."

Meanwhile Alexios was still reluctant to make any sort of physical contact with either child. Although there was some sort of tugging in his heart to hold them. He wasn't sure why, but the longer he observed them, the more his curiosity grew, the more he wanted to hold them. However his fear and anxiety kept him from doing so, let alone asking.

As if she could read his mind, Kassandra spoke up.

"You know you CAN hold them, you don't have to just stare."

"No! No I uh...I can't- They're so...small and soft...fragile, I-I'd probably break them or-" he said, mild panic in voice.

Kassandra put her hand on his shoulder. "It's ok Alexios. You won't hurt them." she encouraged. "I know you won't. I trust you."

Those three little words, 'I trust you', meant so much to him in that moment. She trusted him, she trusted him with a NEWBORN. Kassandra never trusted easily, very few truly had her trust and confidence. If she said she trusted him, then she meant it and had every reason to.

He nodded, "Alright, if you say so."

"Alright then. Hmm, I think I've got an idea to help you feel less nervous. Wait here." Kassandra left the room and when she returned, in her arms were as many cushions, blankets, and pillows she could carry.

She placed them in a large pile on the floor, much the way she did so long ago as a child. Once she was satisfied she motioned for Alexios to come over.

"Sit here." she told him, and he did.

Kassandra walked over to the shared cradle the twins lie in, and picked up her son. She brought him over to Alexios.

"When I first held you as a baby, I was just as nervous as you. I thought I'd break you. So I did this." she gestured with a nod to the pile of pillows and blankets

"Oh.." Alexios hesitantly held out his arms, still nervous about holding his nephew.

"Don't worry Leon, your Uncle Alexios isn't as bad as Uncle Stentor." She said to her son and she gently placed him in Alexios' arms. Adjusting him where needed.

Alexios let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. The small, fragile, pink child looked up at him with large eyes. The same color as his father's Alexios noted.

"Chaire...little one." he said awkwardly, his nephew cooing softly in response.

"See? He likes you." Kassandra told him. She looked towards her brother and saw something in his eyes she'd never seen.

Alexios looked softer, his eyes held a touch of wonder, relief, it was as if holding his nephew brought something out in him he'd not been able to bring out beforehand. She has been right, this would be good for him.

As Alexios settled into holding a baby, he surprised his sister by gently stroking his nephew's face with the back of his forefinger. "So...soft" he remarked.

Leon reflexively held onto his uncle's finger when it was in reach, causing a soft smile to emerge on Alexios' face. "You will be a strong one." he whispered.

Kassandra smiled, happy to see her brother growing more confident in his ability to be soft, gentle, to be human again.

"You know," she began, "this was YOUR blanket once."

"What?"

"The baby blanket he's wrapped in. It was yours. Obviously we weren't expecting twins, so I had to improvise. I'd been given your old baby blanket by a priest in Argos."

Alexios felt the fabric between his thumb and index finger. Perhaps he was imagining it, but it somehow felt familiar. Like he was recalling a dream he had a long time ago.

"I see. It does almost feel...familiar."

Leon yawned, clearly growing sleepy in his uncle's arms. "Looks like he's growing tired."

"Well him and his sister have had a big evening. Meeting new members of the family, must be exhausting for a baby. Alright my little warrior, time for bed."

Gently Alexios handed Leonidas to Kassandra as she brought him to his crib, Brasidas following with Zenais.

"I believe it best we took our leave Alexios." Herodotos mentioned. "It was wonderful to see you again Kassandra, and meet your children."

"It was great to see you too." Kassandra replied. "I'd say I'd join you again on the Adrestia soon but..."

"Ah do not worry my friend!" Barnabas said, "You have a family to look after! The Adrestia will always be welcome to you. Perhaps next time your little ones can join us!"

Kassandra laughed, "Maybe in a few years Barnabas."

"You two can head back to the ship." Alexios said. "I think I'll stick around for a while. Still haven't seen Mater after all."

Both men nodded, taking their leave as they hugged Kassandra goodbye. He wasn't sure how, or why, but somehow seeing his niece and nephew made Alexios feel like he could call this place home one day. He actually felt like there was something here he could protect. Alexios WOULD protect them he silently promised. He would make sure what happened to him would NOT happen to the twins. Alexios knew their parents felt the same, and he'd help make sure the pair were protected and loved as well.

#Assassins Creed Odyssey #Assassins Creed #Alexios #Kassandra #Brasidas #Kassidas #Herodotos #Barnabas #Herodotos and Barnabas being excited grandpas!

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thestorytellersapprentice · 4 years

Text

With a Little Push

Pairing: Jo Yeong as Jo Eun-seob/Myeong Na-ri

Fandom: The King: Eternal Monarch

Tags: Kid Fic, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Alternate Universe, Parallel Universe

Summary: In which Jo Yeong tries being an oppa and is again bested by the seven-year-old Jo Eun-bi as a result. Who takes care of who, exactly?

Notes: Happens on Episode 12, directly after Yeong & Shin-jae’s conversation at the hotel. Unbeta-ed.

Link: ArchiveofOurOwn

His right chest still hurt like hell every time he strained his arm's muscles, but Yeong knew that he should get Myeong Na-ri's car back to its owner sooner rather than later. He needed to pick up Jo Eun-seob's twin siblings at the Taekwondo Center anyway, so he grunted through the occasional spiking pain and made it to the Alley all the same, favoring his left arm and thus driving slower than he usually did.

When he went into the cafe, he found its owner fixing him a glare from behind the counter.

"Yah, Jo Eun-seob!" Myeong Na-ri scolded him right away. "Check your phone more often! I've been calling and calling, and you did not read my messages too. Where the hell have you been?"

"Ah, sorry," he relented, mirroring his doppelgänger's satoori accent perfectly. I was busy chasing someone who's not supposed to be here and getting shot at. "What's up?"

"One of the kids played around with the equipment when the instructor's not looking, knocking Eun-bi by accident." Na-ri should have registered the alarmed look on his face, because she reassured him shortly after, “Don’t worry, it’s the shin - or arm or leg, ah, I don’t remember, it’s pretty much the same - pads, and she’s okay.”

As she explained, Yeong heard the sound of the door opening from behind him and was instantly ambushed by the little girl in question, who clung tight to his legs, crying uncontrollably.

Yeong suddenly felt the strongest urge to clock out whoever it was who did such a thing to Jo Eun-bi. Whether it was unintentional, he really did not give a damn.

“She’s very shocked,” Na-ri finished filling him in, her expression was still a bit accusatory.

Yeong crouched down and then patted the little girl’s hair awkwardly as he took note that her face was all screwed up from the crying. He really did not know anything about comforting a kid, his doppelgänger didn’t include it in his “How to Pass as Jo Eun-seob with Flying Colors” manual, but he would guess that it was a good time to just let the little girl cling to him as much as she wanted.

And it seemed to work, as her wailing gradually calmed down although she still clutched onto him tightly.

The bell at the Alley’s door rang again, and Yeong looked up to see what looked like a bunch of college kids coming in. Aware that they were blocking the counter, he scooped the girl onto his arms and stood up to make way.

His ruptured ligaments got into strong protest upon the sudden strenuous movement. He let out a low, suppressed groan, but steeled on.

Strategically placing the girl on his left arm, Yeong relocated to one of the weaved wooden chairs, before balancing her on his lap.

“Kka-bi will finish in a bit,” Na-ri reminded him. “Do you want something to drink while you wait?”

He was about to refuse her, when something else caught his attention.

The college kids were fooling around among themselves. There was some playful teasing and shoving around, before one of them carelessly threw one of the bubble tea in the air. Presumably, the college kid was aiming for his friends, but Yeong quickly calculated its trajectory and realized that it was coming in his and Eun-bi’s direction instead.

He timed the catch perfectly, but for a second forgot that his right arm was compromised. Yeong winced internally, his whole upper body tensed upon the impact.

One more thing that he forgot to factor in was how sharp the seven-year-old could be.

"Oppa,” she finally removed her head from the crook of his neck to look up at him. She continued in between her subdued sobs, “you're hurt?”

Yeong automatically denied it, but the little girl was for sure a worthy opponent. She had already raised up her hand to prod him precisely where it hurt, and even though Yeong tried his best to steel himself, his body betrayed him as he involuntarily grimaced ever so slightly.

“Jo Eun-seob, what happened?”

Yeong cursed internally. Myeong Na-ri had entered herself into the conversation too. He was outnumbered.

It really did not help that the little girl Eun-bi fixed him with that expression on her chubby face. He saw the flashes of fear in her reddened eyes, and the fact that her face was still partly damp from all of crying earlier made Yeong realize that he was once again bested by Jo Eun-seob’s seven-year-old sibling.

“Ah, it’s nothing,” he tried to laugh it off, although his voice came out with a hint of nervousness. “I tripped earlier. It's not a big deal-"

He let out a sharp intake of breath as the little girl in his arms assaulted his clothes then, grazing the tender spot as she was struggling to tug his shirt downward with her tiny hands.

Well, too late. Myeong Na-ri had also caught the glimpses of the black and blue marks on his skin before he could mitigate the situation. "Yah, Jo Eun-seob, what happened to you? That looks bad!"

She pulled his shirt and jacket collar sideways to inspect the bruises more carefully. "It's a nasty one," Na-ri commented. "Stay put, I'll bring you some ice packs."

Yeong sighed. As if he could so much sneak an escape attempt with a certain little girl watching him like a hawk.

When Myeong Na-ri told him to go to the Taekwondo Center's back office, Yeong did so dutifully. She also told the twins to wait and play among themselves for a while at the cafe.

"Here," the cafe owner handed him the promised ice pack. She had wrapped it in a small towel.

He pressed the ice pack against his newly acquired bruises. It instantly felt cold upon his skin. "Thanks."

"Yah, use it properly, will you?" Na-ri scolded him again. As he had been further integrated into the life of Jo Eun-seob, he understood more and more that all of those scoldings were such a regular occurrences in his doppelgänger and cafe owner relationship. "Open your shirt," she then said, matter-of-factly.

"Eh?"

"Stop having such a dirty mind," she swatted him hard on his upper left arm. Yeong thought belatedly that the girl should have targeted his uninjured side strategically and he appreciated that thought. "The ice pack's useless if it's not being placed properly. Now, strip."

Yeong assumed that both she and Lieutenant Jeong Tae-eul should have many experiences dealing with Taekwondo or police-work-related injuries beforehand. She seemed to know what she was doing.

Short story short, that was how he ended up shrugging off his jacket and delved in partial nudity in the middle of the Taekwondo Center's back office. Yeong unbuttoned his shirt efficiently, then tugged off its right side to expose his whole right torso. Let's get this over with quickly, then.

He watched Myeong Na-ri stop in her tracks, her eyes blinked several times as if she could not believe the sight in front of her. Yeong looked down to wonder whether his bruises looked that bad or hideous to her, because by his standard, it was pretty much average.

"Ah," she stumbled on her words. "H-Here."

She placed the towel-wrapped ice pack against his tender spot, applying perfect pressure, and Yeong instantly appreciated the nice, cool, and numbing sensation it created. He exhaled, instantly comforted.

They stayed like that for a while, in silence.

After a while, Yeong looked down to notice that Myeong Na-ri had her gaze locked pointedly somewhere on a spot behind him, seemingly refusing to meet his eyes. The fact that her cheeks flushed and her pupils were slightly dilated did not escape his observation too.

Yeong smirked at the realization that someone had just appreciated all of the workouts and the years and years of training that he did.

And also, Jo Eun-seob owed him and Eun-bi, big, big time.

#jo yeong #myeong na ri #king: eternal monarch #woo do hwan #kim yong ji #myung na ri #because there's not enough fics of them #because they're just too cute

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inquartata30 · 4 years

Text

WIP Whenever (Tuesday)

Tagged by @foofyschmoofer

Tagging @natsora @jt-boi-n7 @fogsblue no obligations

This is another Safira POV scene that takes place way back in time. We’re talking almost 300 years, when Thaia was still a little kid.

Hardly had Sula closed the door behind her when Meir outright asked the question that had weighed on them all since the pool. “She’s dead, isn’t she? Dad. Or whoever the fuck she was.”

Sula let out a long breath. “Yeah. Korlus.”

“The fuck was she doing there?”

“Getting herself killed, obviously,” said Eirian, arms crossed tightly against her body.

Stopping herself from lashing out, Safira knew. Eirian’s temper had somewhat abated as she’d grown into maidenhood, but both she and Thaia possessed tempers on the side of a little too healthy. To be fair, all four of them did. It was just that Safira and Meir had had more time to tame theirs. They’d learned to recognize when they needed to step back from a situation before they lost control—and then follow through with said step. It wasn’t foolproof, however.

Meir jumped to her feet. “She had no business being there. Being a fucking merc. She didn’t even have the skills.”

“Yes, she did,” said Safira, pointedly staying seated in her chair closest to the end of the hallway. “Remember? She could sneak up on all of us.”

Sula nodded. “She was a good commando when she served. Knew her shit inside and out. Could’ve captained her own squad. What she didn’t have was the right mindset for a merc. Never did.”

“Or maybe she forgot her skills like she fucking forgot us,” said Eirian, biting down on the last word.

Safira wondered how long it would be before Eirian lost her temper, not that she could be blamed any more than Thaia could when she’d cried herself to sleep. Goddess, now Safira was gritting her own teeth. She forced herself to relax. There were enough tempers flaring as it was. Meir was practically vibrating, the subtle glow of a fomenting biotic flare a haze over her skin. Eirian’s biotic corona was even more obvious, wisps already rising.

Sula moved sluggishly into the nearest chair, dragged down by the immense weight pressed upon her over the past year. The energy of Sula’s anger had already been spent, redirected to consoling her youngest. By night’s end, reality had proven that consolation wasn’t to be had, no matter the effort. Amma—Matriarch Aysu, Sula’s mother and their grandmother—had traded with Sula to sit in the room with her. Keeping watch while Sula went to speak with her older children. Her adult children who understood the situation between their parents no better than Thaia did.

Once, Safira had even gone directly to the supposed source and come away with nothing. “Honestly,” she said, “I think she forgot who she was entirely.”

“That’s no fucking excuse to forget the existence of three of her kids.” Meir stalked around the living area of their family’s Illium flat.

“I didn’t say it was.”

Eirian was on her feet. “Are you defending her?”

“No, that isn’t—goddess, I’m just trying to understand why, like the rest of you.”

“There’s no point. It won’t change a fucking thing.” Meir punctuated it with a flare, ready to fight the ghost of their father that had haunted them since well before she’d died.

At the same time, Eirian said, “I don’t care why.”

“That’s the biggest fucking lie you’ve ever told yourself,” said Sula. While the words themselves were harsh, her tone wasn’t. Soft, with a bit of self-reflection. That Sula had tried and failed to use the same lie on herself.

Safira wondered how many times her mother had tried to understand why. How often her mother must have blamed herself for what’d happened. And if she still did, despite everything. “It wasn’t your fault, Mum.”

Faint amusement crept into Sula’s eyes as she wearily turned in Safira’s direction. “It’s still adorable when you say that.”

“Don’t dismiss what I said. Amma’s told you the same thing.”

“She’s right,” Eirian said.

“It wasn’t your fault, either, kid,” said Sula. “It’s over and done, at least.” She hadn’t looked this outwardly tired in a long time.

Meir picked up on it as well. “Mum, if you’re going to Korlus in the morning, you should get some sleep.”

“I’m not going to Korlus.”

“Then who’s going to retrieve her body?” asked Safira. Someone had to, no matter the pain of the past twenty years.

“Leave it there to rot,” said Meir.

Eirian fell down hard on the sofa, like Meir had punched her. Even Safira had suffered a glancing blow. Meir had called for denying their father the most basic respect asari from the Armalian coast gave to the dead. You didn’t just leave them where they fell. It was such a basic rite that there were numerous stories from the Armalian Peninsula conflicts about the courtesy. Huntresses had picked up the bodies of their fallen foes and seen them returned to their people after a battle had ended. While Indah had become a recent stranger, it didn’t negate that she had been a father they’d known and loved—and had loved them, Safira was sure of it—for the century and more before that. If enemies were afforded the simplest of respects, then they had a responsibility to the body of the stranger who bore their father’s face.

Chin trembling, Eirian stared at Meir. “You don’t mean that. You don’t.”

Meir’s defiance visibly drained in the sudden slump in her shoulders. “No. I don’t even know why I said it.”

“Because angry’s easier than anything else,” Amma said, emerging from Thaia’s room.

“Angry’s easier than what?” Meir asked.

Amma patted Sula’s shoulder as she walked past her to sit beside Eirian. She wrapped an arm around Eirian’s shoulders and pulled her close. “Admitting that you’ve been grieving over the loss of your father since the day she left, taking your littlest sister with her.”

And Meir’s temper was back. “I’m not admitting shit.”

“Thank you for proving my point. Your cooperation is appreciated.”

When Meir declined to reply, Sula filled in the gap before the looming silence could. “She asleep?”

“Yes. I had to guide her there, but she’ll get a couple hours of good rest out of it. However, once that cycle ends, I can’t see how there won’t be a nightmare.”

Those would surge again. There was no escape. For the first month or two Thaia had come to live with them, the nightmares had occurred almost every night, sometimes multiple times. As the year passed, they’d lessened in frequency to an average of one or two a week. Those moments when Safira had helped her return to sleep, when she’d touched her mind and experienced that pain and terror directly caused by Aulus, indirectly caused by Indah’s lack of care to protect her own daughter, Safira had been left struggling with her own temper.

Meir’s corona flared again. “Every time she wakes up screaming, I want to put that asshole in a reave and leave him there, right on the edge of dying. And then fucking keep him there.”

“As much as the idea appeals, that would hurt you more, in the end,” said Amma. “You’re the throwing type, not the torture type. That kind of act would eat away at you for the rest of your life. Take solace in the fact that the matriarchs who caught him at the park weren’t gentle.”

Meir brightened. “Throwing him around sounds good. Who’s going to tell him? I’m volunteering, in case that wasn’t clear.”

“I should go, too,” Eirian said. “Maybe I couldn’t protect her like you did for me, but this would be something.”

It left Safira torn. While she welcomed the possible opportunity to tell Aulus how she truly felt, seeing him face-to-face again was less worthy than seeing to their father’s body. She looked at Sula. “You never answered about seeing to Indah’s body.”

Sula rubbed at her forehead. “Drack’s there. He’s making the proper arrangements to send her here.”

“And then,” said Amma, “we are commissioning an autopsy.”

“Why?” asked Eirian.

“Like your sister said, Indah slowly became a stranger, ending her life nothing like the person your mother and I had known for two centuries. For the final five years of her life, she didn’t produce a single poem. Not one. No entries in her journals.”

“How? Dad was never not composing. Maybe you just didn’t find her journals,” Meir said.

“We looked everywhere. There weren’t any. Most recent was a little over five years ago. And the poems in it were all shit,” Sula said.

Eirian laughed. She covered her mouth with her hand to stem it, but it didn’t work. “Imagine...” She descended into another giggling fit. “Imagine Dad’s face if you’d ever told her that. Goddess.”

A laugh trampled its way through Meir’s fire. “She’d have done that thing where she just stared, flat out stared like she was staring into your soul and you’d wonder what wrongs you’d committed over the course of your entire life and then start confessing them just so she’d stop—”

“That was you who got that look, not the rest of us,” said Safira. “And you deserved it each time.”

Eirian managed to wrangle her giggles enough to add, “I still don’t see how the fuck Dad kept a straight face after you confessed to hooking up with the elcor ambassador’s daughter on the inlet beach and she asked—”

“‘Only the once?’” finished Safira, perfectly reproducing their father’s Cultivated Armalian accent and cadence.

Even Sula spared a few chuckles. “She laughed for ten minutes straight after she walked into our bedroom and closed the door.”

#WIP prompt #tessera #an unkind stranger #safira calfuray #eirian calfuray #meir calfuray #matriarch aysu #sula calfuray #thaia kallistrate

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cosmiceverafter · 4 years

Text

The Pieces Want to Be Together

Pairing: Alex Manes/Michael Guerin

Characters in this chapter: Alex Manes; Michael Guerin; Forrest Long

Rating: T

Words in chapter: 1k

Read on ao3

**Tags (TW) for this chapter: some violence & gun use; trespassing & kidnapping; blood; small scene with Forrest/Alex.

Summary: Day 2: | LOSS | disappearance.

A/N: This is chapter 2 of a 3 chapter story for the Missing Alex Manes Weekend. Read chapter 1 here.

Ch. 2: To Be Found

Days pass like the changing of seasons, and Alex cannot get Michael off of his mind.

However, he meant what he had said. He needs to focus on his own life, his own happiness for a while.

Alex is in love with Michael, but nothing ever changes between them. Michael has taken the steps to break their never-ending angst cycle, so now it is his turn to continue the change and hopefully growth.

To do something entirely for himself, he goes on another date with Forrest. He wants to see once and for all if this could actually go somewhere. Something new; something fresh.

Dinner is lovely with great conversation, it just feels so easy to be himself around Forrest. As they walk around the park close by afterward, they share their first kiss. It was a very sweet kiss, but there is no spark. What makes him feel alive when kissing Michael, doesn't exist at this moment. He feels a bit saddened by the loss of what could be and a bit angry at himself for carrying this never-ending love for this alien.

As if Forrest has read his mind completely, he smiles and softly touches Alex’s face, “Go to him.”

When Alex says he is truly sorry, Forrest shakes his head saying there is no need to be, and that, “the heart wants what it wants, especially when that love is so unique and special.”

That’s what he has with Michael and everyone seems to know it, too.

It wasn’t just pain between them, it was beauty, too. Loving someone in such a deep way. Long ago, Alex had thought it was written in the stars that they belonged together, that had been the reason Michael had found his way to earth. Suddenly, he starts feeling that way once more.

Forrest is a great guy, who has helped him grow so much. And with his help, he was finding out that he wasn’t a lost cause, after all, he was worthy. He would always be grateful. They say they will remain friends and part ways.

As Alex makes it home for the evening, he tells himself he is going to call Michael in the morning, and that he is going to ask the guy if they can meet. He wants to figure their relationship out, even the messy parts. He wants to go slow and come together slowly but ever so surely.

He smiles at the hope that is heading their way, the weight finally being lifted off his shoulders it seems. Sure there was still pain, but he wants to try. He is all in.

That thought makes him decide to text Michael now instead of waiting:

Hi Michael, if you’re free tomorrow morning, would you like to come over to my place for breakfast so we could talk?

He sends it and assumes he’ll have to wait for some time, but in a matter of minutes, his alien is writing back:

I’ll be there :)

Alex feels...giddy. He hasn't felt like this in so long, probably since he was a teen young and in love with Michael Guerin.

Part of him wants to ask Michael to come over now, but he realizes that the chance of them ending up in bed is a definite possibility, and he does want to take the steps in healing together, not getting back into a cycle of years past.

He puts his phone away and decides to go enjoy the night air, to continue writing his song.

As he makes his way outside, he feels a shiver go down his spine. Alex has had enough training to know when he was being watched.

Someone is in his house.

Going over to where he hides his gun, he grabs it and slowly moves around the corner of the hallway.

Alex has always believed and knew to be true, that he is good in a fight. He can defend himself and his training in the military had only deepened his already innate skills.

But he doesn't even see the attack coming.

As he feels the slam in the back of his head and is slowly falling towards the ground as the world fades away around him, the last thought he has is if he’ll ever get to tell Michael he loves him back.

***

Michael feels like a kid at Christmas time, that is... if he actually knew what that had felt like. But he could assume it feels something like this.

His hands are sweating and he has the biggest grin plastered on his face as he keeps looking at Alex’s text. He has imagined Alex writing it over and over again; the memory is ingrained in his mind now.

He could barely sleep after Alex had texted him. It had felt as though months had passed by, but it had only been a week or maybe two since he’d seen Alex last. Time had lost meaning.

At 6 am, Michael finally gets up and out of his bed; he cannot lie there any longer. He goes to the local Roswell bakery and picks up some bagels for the two of them and coffee, hoping it is okay to come over early. But he knows Alex to be an early riser. Truthfully, he knows the guy like the back of his now healed hand.

Michael walks up smiling as he approaches Alex’s house, hoping that Alex is ready to meet him halfway. He has a lot to prove to Alex.

Alex had been nothing but gracious and helped with his mom, especially when he was giving the middle finger to the rest of the world. Alex had known just what to do.

He knows he has hurt Alex, and it shatters his heart wondering if it is too late to fix what he has broken. But he is willing to find out. Michael had taken off the kerchief as a symbol he was ready to embrace it all, even the pain. It was his turn to show Alex he is more than ready, he is in this all the way and is willing to fight for him. For them.

Alex is worth that and so much more.

As he knocks on Alex’s front door, it opens slowly. He frowns slightly, thinking this is unlike Alex not to lock the door. But maybe the guy was already up and had been on the patio drinking his coffee. He was an early bird after all.

“Alex?” he calls down the hallway. No answer. “I’m sorry I’m a bit early...truthfully, I couldn’t wait any longer.” Nothing.

Now he feels a flicker of worry run through his body, but he pushes it down not giving in to fear this early in the morning.

He doesn’t want to trespass, but something urges him inside.

Michael tries not to be on guard, but he cannot help it. Something is off. Alex was expecting him.

He checks Alex’s room first. The bed is made, not even appearing to have been slept in.

“Alex!”

Michael walks around again as he looks everywhere and that’s when he slips. He grabs the wall to steady himself.

He looks down to see what was wet.

That’s when the panic completely takes over him.

Blood.

Alex’s blood on the floor.

Everything becomes a blur as he runs around the house screaming for Alex. Michael puts his hand up, ready to use his power if needed. He tries Alex’s cell phone and hears it ringing. He follows the sound. The phone is under the couch.

That’s when he realizes what happened.

Alex was taken.

He imagines Alex being attacked and struggling to get away, as he ultimately loses the fight. The smear of his blood is all that is left behind.

The window in Alex’s living room shatters to pieces like rain as Michael screams in pain.

#missingalexmanes #missingalexweekend #alex manes #michael guerin #malex #day 2 #alex x michael #forrest long #roswell nm #my ficlet #KIDNAPLEX #tw: some violence #tw: blood #tw: kidnapping #tw: gun mention

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lilhemmo · 5 years

Note

may seem weird but... i've seen you reblog a decent amount of vegeta so i feel comfortable asking you this hehe. would you be willing to write a vegeta x reader story?? maybe of how he's not used to affection but the reader just kinda is forceful about it??? like doesn't get fazed when he rejects her kisses bc she sees him blushing, etc. and then maybe eventually she stops and he gets frustrated and is like "excuse me why did you stop???" please and thanks! love your writing!

a/n: i’ve been holding onto this one bc i’ve never written for db and i’m totally scared i’ll prob lose a bajillion followers, but may as well start now! i appreciate the ask :) fem!reader for, well, because vegeta frequently uses the term “woman”

ps. apparently this is just me word dumping. not sure if the story even makes sense??? but hey, first time is first time. hopefully you like it!

tw: blood, language, etc. the usual for db

It was normal for you to tag along when Goku and the gang got caught up in some sort of crazy scheme with a new bad guy to defeat. You were their healer, after all.

Sensu beans could heal the combatants, but it was not always healthy if they were given an alternative route should the time arise.

And today, after fighting a huge, man-turned-monkey, everyone was worse for wear. Including the superhuman in question.

It took a while, but somehow, Goku convinced him to return to Earth and train together. Given that they were the last of the Saiyan race, you swear you saw some sort of light flash in the Prince’s eyes before he mellowed and spat out some retort akin to a thank you.

“You can shack up at Capsule Corp if you need a place to stay,” Bulma offers to him on the ride back to base. She smiles over her shoulder and he bristles, “You’re basically homeless now anyway.”

“Bulma!” you snap, turning to her in the driver’s seat. “The man has lost his race, have you no filter?!”

You see that his shoulders vibrate with tension, “I do not need you to defend me, woman! I am the Prince of all Saiyans, I can speak for myself.”

“Prince of Nothing, if you ask me,” Bulma mutters.

Vegeta growls in the backseat, but he’s too wounded to do much of anything towards the billionaire mechanic. Instead, he closes his eyes and evens out his breathing, and eventually you believe he falls asleep.

It took much time to seal up the Prince’s wounds. No one thought he was yet worthy of a sensu bean, instead opting to have you stitch him up and provide medication to help numb the pain.

You noticed as you stitched up the various gashes on his body that he whimpers in his sleep. His body moves strangely at the waist, but you realize that he’s searching for a tail long since cut at the base. Even though it shouldn’t, it saddens you for the Prince. So much lost in such little time. It can drive a man mad.

Apparently, it has.

Your body freezes as he groans and his eyes flit around behind closed lids. You instinctively reach out and cover his hand with your own, “It’s okay, it’s just me. You’re in the med bay, on a heavy dose of narcotics. You need to settle.”

“Damn Earth-woman,” he mutters, shaking his head and willfully pushing his eyelids open, “I won’t listen to your drivel. Where is Kakarot?”

You press firmly on his shoulder and he winces but falls back into the bed with little struggle thanks to the medication. You knew he’d need a large dose given his Saiyan metabolism.

“Goku,” you correct snidely, “is eating outside with the others.”

His upper lip curls and you’re ready for some spiteful drabble, but it never comes. Instead, he turns his head and scowls off in the distance.

You’re not sure what comes over you, but you reach up and push your hand over his hair, brushing the sweat-laden tendrils out of his eyes. Before your hand can come into contact with his skin, his right arm juts out and secures your wrist in his grasp.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he asks, glaring deep into your eyes.

You don’t back down, and you’re not sure if it’s because you’ve finally found someone to rival your stubbornness, or if it’s purely out of spite, “I’m trying to be kind. Is there no kindness where you’re from?”

“The world is unkind, woman,” he barks, tossing your hand to the wayside. Vegeta takes a breath and tilts his head, “I do not expect it to change now.”

You’re not sure when it happened, but at some point you quite liked it when Vegeta would show up to the medical bay for patching up. Even now, months later, he’s not entrusted with the sensu beans because there is such a small supply of them and he’s still not proven his loyalty.

“Damn Kakarot,” he winces as you stitch up a split on his bicep. You notice the puckering of pink scars all along his chest and back as you’ve walk around his body. There’s no telling where they’ve all come from.

You run your thumb over the edge of the last stitch, swallowing thickly, “You’ll get better, now that Bulma’s designed the anti-gravity room.”

Vegeta clicks his tongue against his teeth and looks away from you, “It shouldn’t take special training for me to defeat Kakarot in our sparring matches. I shouldn’t have to try this hard.”

“But you do,” you emphasize, “so just work with the tools you’ve been given.”

Vegeta rolls his eyes, “You’re so dense, woman. It should not be this way. I am Prince Vegeta, and Kakarot is…not. He wasn’t even raised on our home land.”

You shrug and find that while he’s distracted with his inequities, he’ll allow the gentle brush of your fingers against his scars, old and new alike. You swallow, “I think that everyone here has a role to play. I, for one, am glad that you’re not their main target.”

His head cocks to the side at this, and your finger stills against his shoulder, “And why would you say that?! Are you seriously so dense that you would want me seen as weak just so they would point the finger at Kakarot? That miserable excuse of a Saiyan?!”

You grip his bicep so hard your nails bite into his flesh. He grits his teeth but you don’t let him speak, “I’d rather them go after Goku, yes! Now shut up and let me patch your eye.”

In the heightened argument, Vegeta’s brow begins to bleed again, trickling down to his chin before dripping into his lap. You reach out with a cotton pad and brush away the crimson liquid, never missing the way his lips quirk when you touch him.

“You humans are a strange race,” he mutters, licking the corner of his mouth. “I’m not sure I’ll ever come to understand you.”

It’s been too long, you think. It’s been far too long.

You swallow thickly, your eyes hot with the thoughts of what could be keeping them away. You curl up in the corner of the bench stationed on the patio, wrapping your arms around your legs and holding tight. The stars in the sky, blinking brightly, make you wonder if maybe that’s their power spiking and ebbing as they fight whatever force it is so far away.

“They’ll be back soon,” Bulma speaks soothingly, offering you a bowl of soup.

You wave your hand, your eyes never breaking away from the constellations. You roll your lips together and wish the blush away from your face.

As if the universe senses your distraught heart, a bright white flash of light appears down on the ground and two broken fighters crumble into the grass.

You’ve never sprinted faster in your life.

Your knees buckle underneath you as you join the Saiyans in the dirt, your hands roaming over the broken chest plate to touch raw flesh, blood pulsing under your fingertips.

“Woman,” he speaks weakly, “get your filthy paws off me.”

You scoff and duck your head into his neck, uncaring to the smell of blood and sweat radiating from him. You laugh through tears and he bristles under your touch, hands stilling at his hips.

“I thought you’d died,” you murmur, leaning back and taking in all of his injuries. You swallow thickly, “I-I thought I couldn’t feel your energy for a moment.”

“Oh, you think so little of me,” he winces, grasping at his side. “If Kakarot were to arrive home, so would I!”

“I know,” you speak slowly, fighting a smirk. You put your arm under his shoulders and he fights you for a moment, but practically passes out against you.

“Stupid Saiyan,” you mutter, dragging him to the med bay where you have a stash of sensu beans. “I’m always cleaning up after your messes.”

It took a while before Vegeta would spend time in the common rooms of Capsule Corp with the others, but once he did, you couldn’t help but to gravitate towards him.

You start with touching him on the shoulders from behind, brushing fingertips against the muscle of his back to ask a question in quiet.

“What?!” he snaps, turning so his lips brush your cheek by accident. Your entire being turns beet red, but you repeat your question anyway, “Would you like something to eat?”

And then it turns to sitting too close on the couch, knees brushing while watching the news and drinking your protein shakes and coffee respectively. When your knee strays towards his, you watch as his body tenses, and in spite alone, you press your thigh against his own and relax further into the couch. You bring the cup to your lips as a bright red tint paints his cheeks.

And then the inevitable occurs - you fall asleep against his shoulder.

You’re fully expecting him to punt you off the couch and back to your apartment room within Capsule Corp. You’re surprised when the only thing that occurs is his body completely seizing up on the couch cushions.

You flow in and out of sleep, drifting from one plane to the next. You feel heat radiating against your body, but it only brings you back to your slumbering state.

The feel of an arm around your shoulders jolts you awake but you barely pry open your eyes thanks to the darkness of the room. The television is still playing some mindless channel, but Vegeta’s arms have scooped you up and he’s started towards your room.

You try to murmur something, but your head lolls to the side and you find your nose nuzzled against his neck. You can feel his pulse hammering against your skin, but it only lulls you back to sleep.

The last time you wake is when you feel your body laid down in your bed, covered by your sheets. You reach out and grasp him by the wrist, pulling him close enough you can speak in your sleep-ridden voice.

“Stay.”

After you’ve said it, you regret it. Where did that even come from?

Vegeta’s forearm pulsates with muscle as his body tenses. A strangled noise comes forth from his throat and you swear you hear him crumble down to one knee.

You can now touch his cheek, and so you go for it. You know that in the morning you can pretend it never happened if he rejects you - you can blame it on sleep. Maybe you were dreaming? He’ll never have to know.

Your palm spreads over the expanse of his face, cupping his jaw so the tip of your index brushes his earlobe. He’s hot to the touch, both thanks to his Saiyan blood and his blushing body.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he spits, tearing his arm away from you.

Angry tears flood to your eyelids and you try to hold back a sniffle but it’s no use. You roll over and curl into yourself, digging your head into the pillows.

It’s okay, you think, I’ll save myself from the nightmares.

You must have said it out loud, because Vegeta gasps next to you. It takes a moment, but you feel the bed dip beside you. Instantly, your body warms. You smile and curve your body backwards, sucking in a breath.

“You’ve come a long way, Saiyan Prince,” you murmur, reaching behind you to grasp him by the wrist. “From trying to destroy my world to saving it. From being my nightmare to making your way into my dreams.”

A grunt puffs breath onto your neck, hot enough to send a jolt down your spine, “Don’t get used to it, woman. I won’t be kind a second time.”

“I know,” you try not to be chastising. You turn your head to catch his dark eyes, glinting thanks to the moonlight filtering through your window. You repeat his words from so long ago, “The world is unkind. I don’t expect it to change.”

He is silenced by your words, thought drawing his brow and wrinkling his forehead. You take advantage of the silenced Saiyan to curl into him and savor the warmth.

For it is gone when the sun rises. As if he were never there at all.

You weren’t surprised that it was you to kiss Vegeta first.

Apparently, no one was surprised. Except Vegeta.

Whis returns with both Goku and Vegeta in tow, dragged behind him like sacks of flour. Their bodies are riddled with bruises and cuts, eyes swollen shut and knuckles battered beyond recognition.

“I came as soon as I could,” the angel sighs. “It appears they were badly injured prior to my arrival. I assumed a sensu bean would make things better?”

Bulma sprints off in search of the bag of sensu she keeps locked away for emergencies, but you’re focused on the Saiyan in Whis’s left hand.

“I-Is he?” you stutter, unable to feel his energy.

Whis’s face hangs low, his usually pastel skin a deep blue color. He sighs, “I grabbed them as soon as I could. You know how Lord Beerus can be. I will likely be chastised when I return to our world.”

“Thank you,” you manage. You drop to your knees and spread your hands out over his chest, looking at the bleeding wounds protruding from under his cracked chest plate. You thought Bulma had reinforced this one, but it appears you will have to make some adjustments. Perhaps a healing patch where his heart would be?

“We’ll have to chew them for them,” Bulma tells you, “they’re both unconscious and won’t be able to swallow the bean whole.”

You take the sensu bean from her hand and crush it between your teeth, forcing yourself to keep it between your molars instead of swallowing it as you’re used to doing. You lean down and take Vegeta by the cheeks, pressing your mouth to his and transferring the bean to his tongue.

After a moment, the color returns to his face and you can’t help the tears that well up in the back of your lids and threaten to spill over.

“Wh-What happened?” he croaks, trying to reach up to touch his battle wounds but unable to move his arms just yet. He looks up at you and his entire body goes hot, realizing at once just how close the two of you are.

He barely has a second to react when you thread your fingers into his hair and pull him roughly by the head to crush your mouth to his own. Vegeta’s left hand barely grazes your thigh when he comprehends what is going on and snaps away from you.

“H-How dare you?” Vegeta spats, eyes widening. His hair begins to glow at the tips, his Super Saiyan form threatening to overtake his body.

You don’t care, though, and instead you drag him so you’re hugging him around the shoulders, your shaking body sagging against him as you cry. “Shut up,” you mumble, gripping him as tightly as possible. “I thought I lost you.”

“Gross, Bulma!” you hear from across the courtyard. “I haven’t even kissed my own wife, why would I want to kiss you!?”

“It wasn’t a kiss, you oaf!” Bulma shouts back at her lifelong friend. Her eyes are bright and wide as she pokes her finger into his damaged chest, “I was simply transferring a sensu bean from my mouth to yours, nothing else! Gee whiz, for a pretty simple guy you make things too complicated.”

“I-I’m so-” Vegeta starts, your head still buried into his neck. You feel the heat of his hand hesitate before pressing flat against the small of your back. A grunt breaks up his words, and you don’t press him. You’re just thankful he’s still here.

“Saiyans show affection through their tails, Kakarot,” Vegeta explains over dinner one night. Bulma ordered in a ton of food, and they were both exhausted from a particularly long training session. “We do not do the human rituals of mating.”

You tilt your head, stabbing a shrimp and putting it between your lips. You listen, never giving input, but allowing the words to sink in as you understand how the past years he’s done nothing but recoil at your affections. You, as a human, are not sure how else to communicate how you feel, given that the Saiyan is not very articulate either.

“That explains so much!” Bulma giggles. “No wonder you don’t know what to do every time she touches you.”

Your face goes red as everyone at the table looks at you and Vegeta, sitting too close because it’s too comfortable. His foot hits yours under the table and you want your body to melt right then and there.

Instead of bowing down, you sit up straighter and try to keep your features even, “It isn’t my fault that Saiyans are incapable of understanding human affection. Sounds like a personal problem to me.”

Vegeta’s ears perk at this, and a smirk paints his lips.

And from that day forward, you vow that you’re going to keep your distance. In fact, you do so for three months before you start to notice the cracks in Vegeta’s metaphorical emotional armor.

He begins to lean in closer to you when he speaks. He always makes sure no one else sits near him on the couch to watch television. He always passes the med bay after training, wondering if you’re available with a sensu bean.

For some reason, his body feels cold at the lack of your presence. He tries fighting more with Kakarot, but that does little to fill the void. The Saiyans were a proud race, with strong women who held the families together. He’s not sure if he’s missing that, or missing you.

You’re curled up on the couch the next time you feel his touch. It’s hauntingly familiar, and a heat shoots up your spine.

Even so, in your slumber, your senses become groggy and you reach out and deck him in the jaw with a left hook.

Vegeta stumbles back and you jolt forward, profusely apologizing and fussing over the incident. You don’t miss the smirk as he stands back to his full height, fists curled by his side.

“I knew you were strong, woman,” he grits his teeth and you swear he’s in his battle stance. “I just never knew how strong. Of course, you’re nothing for a Saiyan, but for a human, you’re remarkable.”

You hide the tint on your cheeks and cross your arms over your chest.

“However,” Vegeta begins, mimicking your position, “it’s not how I would have liked to feel your touch.”

The both of you stare at each other then, and you’re unable to produce words. After the conversation about Saiyan mating rituals, you assumed Vegeta wanted nothing to do with you, given your lack of tail.

He swallows thickly, his throat bobbing. Even still, his voice sounds more like a bark than the typical man, “I did not realize how-accustomed I had become to you. I may not understand how humans show affection, but I think that’s what you’ve been doing. Am I wrong?”

You step forward, your lip between the bite of your teeth, “This entire time you’ve been rejecting it, recoiling from it. I decided to take the hint.”

Vegeta’s eyes squint shut and his fists tighten in front of him, knuckles turning white under the strain. He looks at you and you see the faintest of blue eyes threatening to come to the surface should he express any further frustration.

“I am not used to touch,” he admits, voice hollow. “The only touch I receive is from battle, and I did not realize how comforting it could be to have someone else’s hands tending your wounds and touching your skin. I’ve only ever had those who touch me try to harm me.”

You reach out and tentatively frame his cheek with your palm, “I do not wish to anger you, Vegeta.”

“I know that now,” his voice is still proud despite the admission.

“Carry me?” you ask, raising both arms to rest around his neck.

Vegeta smirks, eyes closing for a moment before sweeping you up by your knees and your shoulders, cupping you close as he flies to your apartment. It isn’t far, but the wind in your hair and the stardust in the sky makes the short flight worth it.

This time, when he puts you into bed, you do not have to ask him to stay. He simply curls up behind you and waits for you to come closer. Your body is like a magnet, drawn to him in the dark. Your ankles thread together and you touch his chin with your thumb.

In an instant, your lips are on his, but the moment is short as you pull away with a small smile.

“Ah, a sneak attack,” he mutters, his free hand reaching up to touch his lips. “Not sure how I would feel about that in front of the others.”

“In front of the others?” you echo.

Vegeta nods firmly, “Hm.”

You’re not sure what overtakes you next, but whatever it is, Vegeta is impressed. Your body rolls flush with his, your lips slotted firmly against his own as your hands touch his face. It takes a moment to find some sort of rhythm, but once you’ve found it, you don’t let it go.

“Now I have to let them know that you’re mine,” he grunts against your mouth. “Can’t have that nasty old pervert of a man looking at you anymore. If he does, he’ll have to deal with me.”

You giggle, tucking your head against his neck to press a featherlight kiss there. He lets out a strangled noise from the back of his throat, so you do it again, but harder this time. His pulse thumps against your lips and you smirk, “I can’t wait.”

When the both of you arrive to breakfast the next morning with bedhead and hickeys, everyone starts passing around money to pay up on their bets. Turns out, you and Vegeta were inevitable.

a/n: hope you liked it! that was fun to write! prob won’t get a ton of notes, but i appreciate the ask anyway :)

#vegeta #dragonball #dragonball super #vegeta x reader #vegeta imagine #vegeta fanfic #vegeta fanfiction #dbs #dragon ball super imagine #dragon ball super fanfic #vegeta one shot #my writing

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sleepless-in-starbucks · 5 years

Text

Dear Universe

Read on Ao3

Summary: Logan doesn't have a lot to love at the moment. Other than stars and cats. But if he'll give it time, the universe will still be there, waiting for his second letter... Warnings: A vague mention of a character having once contemplated suicide. Very, very vague though. Also this made me soft which I think is illegal so warnings for the fic being a criminal Pairing: Logince Author’s note: I know I have a losleep fic to finish but... idk y’all I was just super soft and I had to do this instead. Tagging @rosesisupposes because that one post she reblogged inspired this, @blinksinbewilderment because it’s Logan-centric and not really angsty, and @inkskinned because the post that overall inspired this came from them

Dear universe,

Hello. I am writing to inform you that you did a good job on the stars. Also on cats.

Yours respectfully,

Me.

Logan glared at the note, simple and small and neatly scrawled on the back of an old envelope. It was stupid. It was rather sentimental as well. But some days there were only a few good things in the world, and on those days Logan had learned it was better to offer any resistance to the current than none.

And today, if all he loved was the stars and his cat, then it was better to remember that then not. With a sigh, Logan tossed the envelope in a drawer.

Well. He had tried that. Good thing he’d never have to do it again.

Dear universe,

Logan’s hand paused. This was as silly as when he had done it five years ago. The fact that he had stumbled over the envelope on accident while deciding what was going to come on the move and he had been struck by the urge to give it a proper follow-up was illogical and foolish.

And yet he had gotten the pen, gotten some paper, and begun the letter. Maybe it was foolish. Maybe that was alright.

He lowered the pen back to the paper.

I hope you are well since I last wrote. I assume things have changed for you. They have for me. I still love the stars. And while I still do love cats, I find a pull, now, to dogs as well.

As if to punctate his point, there was a woof down the hallway behind him, followed by a quiet hiss and someone laughing. Logan smiled.

I fear I left out a lot of things when I first wrote. Even back then, even on my worst days, I do believe there was more light than just the stars and cats, though they were (and always have been) quite bright enough to shine for themselves. It is largely thanks to them I am here now, in fact. Them and one other.

The laughing died down, but Logan could still hear him moving, closing boxes and taking them outside. Logan could see him, too- how he always looked like he was being illuminated by sunlight, how his grin was bright enough to blind you, how he swayed his hips as he walked like he owned the place. He didn’t look real. And yet he was moving stuff out Logan’s crummy old apartment.

The road there’s been… less than simple, however, to tread. I’ve stumbled. I’ve lost things that were important to me. I’ve lost hope. I’ve lost the light that metaphorically guides. I’ve almost given up more times than I’d care to recall. But as grim as the path has been to follow, I’ve learned a lot on it too.

Logan paused again, listening to the almost inaudible murmur of wind outside the window and the light humming of the other man weaving into his room, the sound of the latter somehow going into his ears and making its way to his heart, where it happily settled.

I’ve realized that we’re all children, really, no matter how old we get. We’re taking the little pieces we have and trying to build them into something beautiful, something, I suppose, worthy of you. Art and music, stories and poetry, dramas and plays, laughter and love and humanity. We looked at you and took pictures, studied them and magnified them and loved them. I have one of them as my desktop background. You looked even more extraordinary than usual that day.

There were more scraping noises in the background, furniture being moved. The humming had progressed to whistling. Soon enough it would be singing, and if Logan wasn’t careful, soon enough there’d be two voices holding that chorus. A few years ago, that would have been Hell. But at the thought of it today, Logan just smiled bigger.

I think… no, I am certain that you did a good job, universe; on the stars and everything they became, on space and the planets- on us humans, too. And, yes, oh yes things are terrible, but you made an innumerable amount of things worth loving, worth writing to you about, worth speaking of… worth thanking you for. And you gave us all a spark, and as long as it’s taken me to feel secure about mine, I’m using it now, to be fierce about what I care about and those I care for, and to be eternally gentle to them as well.

The whistling melted into singing, just as Logan suspected. He strained his ears just the slightest before he identified the tune- A Whole New World. Logan remembered the first time the other had sung that song to him, so quietly and so unlike his usual dramatics, gently kneeling down next to a Logan who thought he had any chance hiding even his nearly silent sobs in a theater where every sound was reflected every which way…

So... hello. I’ve come to amend my previous memo. I’m writing to let you know you did a good job on the stars, on cats and dogs and the lizard that is currently kept illegally in my apartment but will shortly be kept legally in my house. And universe, I hope you’re watching, because some of the people you created? They’re great, universe; they’re amazing and wonderful and full of love- endlessly sharing love and eternally worthy of receiving it. And despite all the times I’ve lost it along the way, despite how badly Life wishes to take it from me, those people give me hope.

“Hey, Lo-love of my life.” Logan turned from his paper, towards the other man in his house- towards someone he fully believed to be a fallen star personified, with glitter in his eyes and love in his every touch, and a bright, shiny ring on his finger that Logan loved seeing so new but also couldn’t wait to watch it slowly grow weathered, old, worn and loved.

“Yes, Roman?” He asked, tone unnaturally fond, even to just address the man he loved. Oh, it was foolish, yes, but that was alright.

Roman jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “I’ve finished with the living room. If you’re done with whatever nerdy, non-helpful thing you’re doing, I thought we could go get lunch?”

“I’m just writing a letter. It’s not that nerdy.” Logan retaliated. Not that he really minded, given he was still smiling.

Roman was smiling too as he came over and looped his arms around Logan, leaning down so they were decently at the same height from where Logan was seated. He didn’t try to glance at the letter, instead keeping his much-too-adoring gaze centered on Logan. “Still not very helpful.”

“Well I don’t keep you around just to be eye candy, my dear.”

“No, you keep me around because you love me.” Roman said, pressing a kiss to Logan’s cheek before pulling away. “I’m going to start the car. Be out soon, or I’m leaving without you.”

“It will take you at least ten minutes just to locate the car in the lot.” Logan responded cheekily. “I believe I have time.”

“Not my fault I can’t remember where I put things.” Roman said as he wandered back out, muttering to himself in his stage voice about an ungratefully perfect husband and too many cars being coloured red. Logan chuckled to himself and rose his pen one last time.

And through them, universe, that’s you. That’s how the stars sing.

Yours respectfully,

Me.

Logan folded the paper efficiently, slipping it into the envelope and slipping the flap in, shutting it. He left it on his desk, knowing he’d be back for it.

And one of these days, he’d show it to Roman, show it to the man who was the reason behind the majority of the list, who was the reason behind why Logan felt the need to write a second letter to the universe, who was very possibly the reason why Logan was even around to write that second letter.

And maybe that day would be tomorrow. And maybe that day wouldn’t be for another two dozen years. But he would; one day he would and he would only hope it could mean even half as much to Roman as it did to him, could only hope that the emotions he was still struggling to healthily express would be a fraction as clear to Roman as they were to him.

One day he would, and maybe on that day he’d write another letter to the universe, and maybe he’d write a few even before then.

Because Logan had a feeling there were going to be a lot more things worth thanking the universe for with every day that passed.

#the cryptid speaks #ts logan #ts roman #logince #fanfic #fanfiction #ts sides #sander sides #soft #I'm so soft #y'all I teared up a bit writing it #I'm such a fool #I hope you like it

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talpup · 4 years

Text

Light In the Darkness:60

It’s here! Feels like I’ve been waiting ages to share this chapter with you all. Stuff is going down. This chapter has SO MANY hints in it. And while it does answer some questions. It leaves us with countless more. Enough talking. Please enjoy.

Please remember this fic is rated mature and has warnings of violence, abuse, sexual tension, sexual behavior, and other possible triggers. For a full list of story tags please check the fics AO3 (link to that at the top of my tumblrs homepage).

Chapter 60

It was six hours till sunrise on the longest day of the year. After countless years of waiting, the time had finally come. The long awaited Ends First Breath was upon them. It was the beginning of the end. Or as Alowishus’ followers believed, the beginning of the end that led to a new beginning.

Alowishus’ time spent waiting had not always been done in patience; but it had never been wasted. So much effort had gone into the preparations for the three trails Yami and Teris would face that would ultimately awaken Chaos from his slumber and give him the rest he so desperately wanted. It was a shame he couldn’t take his father’s skull to witness the event the man had tried so hard to prevent.

Alowishus entered the grand hall of Sanctuary. He came across Slade and saw the stub where the man’s severed hand had been, now bound with linen. Alowishus gave him a nod. The Rope Mages misdeed had been forgiven, his act of attrition admirable and accurate given the stakes. Teris Nova would be put through the first trail this morning Her body, mind, will, and soul tested to see if she was worthy and in control of primordial force that had chosen her. She needed all her strength if she was to survive. If the rebirth of Chaos was to begin, the Ray of the worlds Annihilation had to face her fate, even if she refused to accept it.

“Are the masks ready?”

“Yes, Master.” Slade said, bowing.

Alowishus nodded. “Good. We must all be present for this but we can take no chances that they will see Ellara’s face. Immediately after the ceremony we leave them. Misandre will deliver our group back here. You will be the last to past through, unless I say otherwise. Should their bindings become undone you are to restrain them, but only if it looks like they’re making a move to follow or attack. They’ll both be weak so it’s doubtful, but I don’t want to take any chances.”

“Yes, Master.” Slade nodded.

“After this. We’ll see about getting you a new, better hand.” Alowishus told the Rope Mage. He moved down to Misandre, the Spatial Mage who had taken over since Erskin’s death. “Speaking of the bindings. How are they?”

“Perfect.” Misandre said looking up. She held one out. “Care to try?”

Alowishus held out his hands. “Please.”

As Misandre tied the bonds loosely, he watched her work. Her hands much too large for her frame. Erskin’s last gift to them, Alowishus thought. The late Spatial Mages hands, while jarring on one so small and feminine, had served to strengthen Misandre’s own magic which he had always found somewhat lacking, especially when compared to Erskin’s.

As Misandre stepped back, Alowishus pulled against the ties, the bonds tightening. During the ceremony they would all be left without magic. Only items spelled or naturally imbued with mana would work.

“The more one struggles the stronger the bonds grow.” Misandre said, watching him. “Nothing can break them. The only way for them to release is to stop fighting.”

Cloaking himself in mana Alowishus tried to break free. Satisfied he stopped and relax. The binding fell off. “Marvelous.” He smiled. “Come. Let us join the others and cleanse our bodies and minds.”

60.2

Since a Spatial Mage had been with whoever had taken Yami and Teris, Commander Greywright saw no sense in leading the search for them from Lord Nathyn Silva’s home. The royal had been kind enough to offer; but such an unnecessary imposition would have only strained already tense relations. Having sent out a team from Magic Investigations as soon as Jax and Julius had reported the matter, Greywright now read their findings.

“Tell me again why the both of you were out there?” The Magic Knights Commander questioned.

“She’s my sister.” Julius said.

“And what made you head over to the Black Bulls base to check on them in the first place?” Greywright asked.

The two Captains shared a look. Jax turned back to the Commander.

“Does any of this really matter? We should be out there looking for them. Questioning people.” Jax urged.

“Questioning people like Lord Nathyn Silva?” Greywright remarked. “What’s your interest in him? Why would he order the abduction of two Magic Knights? One of which is his son and heirs Intended.”

“Because--” Julius began, but fell silent.

“If you two don’t tell me what the hell’s going on I’ll lock you in a cell and have Ellara get the answers out of you when she returns.” Greywright growled.

“Why not call her in now?” Julius suggested.

“She’s at her home in Raque. Sent there under command of Sir Jorah and a healer.” Greywright informed.

“But surely we could benefit from having her here to lead and assist on the Investigations side of things.” Julius pushed.

“What part of under command of the Wizard King do you not understand?” Greywright asked. He had made the same argument moments ago to Sir Jorah; but the Wizard King had been adamant that Ellara was not to be disturbed. Her health and well being apparently paramount even under such circumstances. He saw the two Captains share another communicative look and slammed a hand on his desk. “Speak! Damn it!”

“A few weeks ago there was a brawl at the Boiling Brew.” Julius said.

“I heard. You, Win, Heath, Jon, Yami, and Tobin made quite a mess and killed twenty people.”

“Attackers.” Julius corrected. “All interested in Yami.”

“Unpaid debt? What?” Greywright asked.

“If your asking for my thinking. News of him and Teris being together has spread and Lord Nathyn doesn’t like it.” Julius said.

“That’s some thinking.” Greywright said, raising his brows. Of course he knew royals made such orders, their money able to buy men that could never lead back to them. But to make such an accusation, even if it came from another royal… “Got any proof?”

“You know I don’t.” Julius snapped, his concern and headache cutting his temper short.

Greywright let the tone slide. “We can’t so much as hint at such a thought, let alone question Lord Silva.”

“I know.” Julius sighed.

“But that’s what you think.” Greywright said, sitting back in his seat. “That since the attempt at the pub failed, this is another one. Ballsy. Even for a royal. To order such at thing so close to his own home. Not to mention that his sons Intended was there and is also missing.”

“Which is why we also wonder if it could be the Agents of Chaos or some other interested faction.” Jax put in.

“Now that’s more likely.” Greywright pointed. “Ellara had mentioned that it’s been quiet. Maybe they were laying low. Preparing for this.”

“If it’s been quiet then why is she overworked?” Julius questioned.

“Enough.” Greywright commanded. “I’ve ignored your hints at this nonsense once before. I won’t do it again. Even if it’s your sister and protege that are missing. She’s the Wizard Kings Advisor. Sir Jorah’s and my trust in Ellara Shaw is absolute.”

Julius looked away.

“How many teams do you have looking?” Jax tendered, watching his friend struggle to control his emotions.

“Everyone.” Greywright told. “Sentries. Magic Knights. Magic Investigations. Though with a spatial mage involved, who knows if they’re even still in the kingdom.”

“We have to find them.” Julius said, fists trembling on his lap.

Greywright looked to Julius. “The Wizard King and I agree. Even if their magic didn’t combine to create the ultimate weapon that could wipe out the Clover Kingdom, if not possibly obliterate the world. We don’t leave any Magic Knight in the hands of the enemy.”

60.3

“Sleep well, Yami Sukehiro?” Alowishus greeted, standing before him.

Yami’s eyes opened. He had been moved. They were outside. Is was still dark out. He pulled at the bonds tied around his wrists holding his arms above his head, noting how they felt different from the magical chains of before. Looking up he saw what looked like mere rope anchored to some sort of tall stone, the rock cool against his back.

“Where’s Teris?” Yami demanded.

“She’s coming.” Alowishus assured.

Yami caught sight of Calen the only man he currently wanted to kill more than Alowishus, simply because the Mage was still dampening his magic. Pulling against the rope, Yami asked. “You think this thing can hold me? I’ll be out of it and on you before you know it.”

“You’re welcome to try.” Alowishus smirked.

The Rope Mage that had captured Teris laid Yami’s belt, grimoire, and katana on the stone at Yami’s feet.

“And you’re kind enough to bring me my weapon.” Yami’s eyes flicked up from his katana to Calen. “I’ll make sure it tastes your blood first.”

A massive portal, that would have taken more than a single spatial mage to create, opened. Yami’s eyes widened at the number of people who appeared, walking through. There were a lot more crazies than he had imagined. Well over three hundred if he were to guess. The half dozen or so that stepped behind Alowishus were all wearing masks.

“Their faces as ugly as yours?” Yami taunted their Master. Patience waning and worry growing, he yelled. “Where’s Teris!”

As if his demand had conjured her, another portal opened. Teris appeared. She was bound at the wrists with rope and carried by yet another masked figure.

“Happy?” Alowishus asked, raising a brow.

“What do you want? I’m gonna kill you. All of you!” Yami yelled at them.

Yami wrists pulled against the rope, trying to break free. Something was about to happen. He didn’t need his gut to tell him that it was nothing good. The raised stone platform he was on. The tall smooth rock he was tied to. It was too much like an alter.

“Teris! Teris, wake up!” Yami called to her.

“Himmel will wake her soon enough. First she must be put into place.” Alowishus told.

“What place? What are you going to do to her?” Yami demanded.

“Master!” Calen called, feeling a sudden heat come from the grimoire he held.

Alowishus turned just in time to see Calen drop Teris’ spell-book. Tilting his head, he watched the grimoire ignite in a blaze.

“You bastards!” Yami yelled, thinking that they were burning her grimoire.

“It’s—it’s not burning.” Calen said in awe, watching the flames lick around the tome.

“Get someone to take it into position.” Alowishus ordered. “Quickly before it can no longer be handled.”

Teris groaned feeling the now common sense of disorientation that told her she had had another forgotten communicative dream. Eyes opening slowly, her sense of disorientation grew.

Seeing her eyes open, Yami struggled all the harder. “Teris! Teris. Are you alright?”

Teris’ lolling head rose. Her eyes widened, seeing a masked faced. Barely realizing that she was being carried, Teris tried to thrust out a hand and shoot a beam of light at the figure. Her fierce and sudden squirming caused the person carrying her to drop her. The rough landing didn’t help her unclear head.

“Yami.” Teris breathed, hoarsely. Looking up at him, she tried to get up.

The Chain Mage rushed forward pulling her to her feet. He held her as she tried to make her way to Yami.

“Yami!” Teris called, struggling to break free and get to him.

“It’s alright. We’re gonna get out of this.” Yami assured her.

“Sure you are?” Alowishus taunted Yami. He stepped in front of Teris. “You’re practically glowing my dear.”

Teris snapped her teeth at Alowishus when he reached out to caress her cheek.

“Get you’re filthy, dead mans hands off her you crazy freak!” Yami raged.

Clint made to move her into place.

Alowishus held up a halting hand. The Master of the Agents of Chaos turned to Yami. “I enjoyed our talk yesterday. But you never fully answered my question. Do so now. Tell about your family.”

Yami glared at him. “I’ve told you everything.”

Alowishus tisked and shook his head. “No. Not everything I imagine.” He turned to Teris, lips brushing her ear as he questioned. “Has he told you? Do you know the answer I seek?”

Teris pulled away and spat in his face.

Alowishus smiled. Wiping his face with a single finger, he collected her spittle. Teris’ nose wrinkled, face twitching as she watched his tongue leak out to lick his finger clean.

“As sweet and fresh as a summers morning you are.” Alowishus declared.

Yami growled, slinging curses.

Alowishus turned his eyes on him. “You should be ashamed. Keeping such flavor all to yourself.”

Yami thrashed wildly. “Stay away from her. I’ll kill you!” His feet pushed against the rock he was bound to, swinging him out only to do so again and again.

That’s when Teris’ eyes focused on the monolith. A cold chill shot through her, though she couldn’t say why. Her knees buckled.

“No.” Teris muttered, head shaking.

Alowishus grasped her under her chin as Clint struggled to hold her up and still. “Do you recall what the page of Chaos has told you? Tell me. What does it say!” Seeing nothing but wild fear in her eyes, Alowishus pushed her face away. “Put her into place. Kefer!” He gave the Projection Mage a nod. “As we discussed.”

“Master.” Kefer bowed, joining him as he stepped closer to Yami.

“Your family.” Alowishus said.

Yami’s head turned to watch Teris being half dragged, half carried to and around the stone platform.

“Yami!” Teris cried out.

Alowishus snapped his fingers in front of Yami’s face. “Answer me.”

“Where are you taking her!” Yami shouted.

“Answer me first.” Alowishus stated, calmly.

Yami’s head turned back, trying to see Teris. “I don’t know what want!”

“Tell me about your family.” Alowishus commanded again.

“I already told you everything. What more do you want! Want to know the way my mother sliced vegetables? The best and worst haul my father ever brought in?” Blood began to trickle down Yami’s arms, though he didn’t feel the cutting rope as he struggled. Unable to see her anymore, he turned back to Alowishus. “Where are you taking her?”

“To the other side of the stone. She’s behind you. Separated by little more than three feet of bedrock.” Alowishus told. “Now. I’ve answered you. So answer me.”

“I don’t know what more you want.” Yami clipped, loudly. “Let me see her. You!” His eyes pinned on Kefer. “Show her to me.”

Alowishus gave a small smile. “Grant him his wish.”

An imagine of Teris appeared. Alowishus hadn't been lying. Wrists still tied by the same rope, Yami watched them anchor Teris to the stone in the same fashion he was.

“I gave you what you asked. Now answer me. Tell me about your family.” Alowishus pressed.

“Fine.” Yami gritted. “My oldest brother had a thing for whores. So much so that he caught something and gave it to his wife. He survived. She didn’t.”

“Not what I’m interested in.” Alowishus said.

“Then what? Tell me what you want me to say and I’ll say it.” Yami said. He watched a second masked figure tear Teris’ blouse open.

Yami went wild. Cursing, threatening, and thrashing. Raw and cut from the rope that bound him, blood now rolled freely down his arms.

“Your family. Tell me about them” Alowishus instructed, again.

A knife glinted in front of Teris’ chest before the image tightened on her face.

“Stop! I’ll tell you whatever you want.” Yami spat. “Get that blade away from her.”

“Tell. Me. About your family.” Alowishus clipped, impatience growing as the sunrise which would force an end to his questioning drew nearer.

“My Grandmother was a foreigner.” Yami told. “She came from what she called a land of rain and fog. She didn’t wash ashore like me. She came seeking out new people and ways of life. She was interested in different cultures and how our stories and magic might've been similar to hers. Only thing is in my homeland there is no magic.”

“Interesting.” Alowishus said. “But not what I’m looking for.”

Yami watched Teris’ face contort as she began to scream in pain. Pulling against his bindings, he shouted.

“Tell me about your family.” Alowishus said over Teris’ screams and Yami’s threats.

“I’m the third seventh!” Yami yelled.

Alowishus held up a hand.

Teris’ screams died down to a whimper. Yami watched a bloody knife cross the frame of the projection, Teris trembling uncontrollably.

“What’s that?” Alowishus asked.

“I’m the seventh son of a seventh son of a seventh son.” Yami confessed. “That’s what you’re looking for. Isn’t it?”

Alowishus stepped back. While he didn’t understand the full meaning of it, he knew the significance of the numbers. He had known Yami had to have been special to be chosen by the Darkness; but had had no clue how. Yami’s family being nothing more than peasant fishermen in a land with no magic, Alowishus couldn’t figure out what had made Yami worthy. The third seventh, Alowishus thought watching him. Even in a land without magic Yami would have been special. Here he was—well he was Teris’ opposite. Darkness itself.

“Thank you.” Alowishus said.

The image of Teris blinked out.

“Finish up.” Alowishus called, knowing that the projection had cut off because all magic in the area had ceased. “It’s almost time.”

“Time for what?” Yami demanded. “What are you going to do!”

On the other side of the monolith Teris braced against the pain as the knife once again began to cut deep into her chest. She pressed her lips between her teeth, biting down. Her lips tore. The smell and taste of blood overwhelmed her senses. She had tried to see what they were carving into her chest; but couldn’t tell. She raised her face to the sky screaming once more, the pain hot as if the knife was more than just slicing her flesh, but branding her very soul. She heard Yami yelling. Could faintly feel the vibrations of his struggle through the pillar of stone they were bound to.

As the sky began to grey, the masked figure with the knife and Chain Mage stepped away joining their Master and fellows. Slowly Teris quieted. Yami’s roars silenced shortly after her screams ceased. A hush fell over the open meadow hill crest.

Yami turned his head, laying the side of his face against the cool stone. “Teris! Talk to me.”

Teris sucked in a ragged breath. “It’s alright. They stopped. I’m fine. You?”

Yami glanced up at his bonds. “Never better.” His teeth pressed together, finally feeling the pain of the rope cutting into his skin. Taking a breath, he promised. “I’m gonna get us out of this.”

Teris’ eyes darted over the empty field. “Not if I get us out of it first.”

“If you do. Roast them all.” Yami told, eyes scanning the massive gathering before him.

“That goes without saying.” Teris swallowed pushing down the sense of dread that fell over her. The scene of the wide open space and soft slope with its tall grass swaying in the fading darkness felt eerily familiar.

“Teris. I’m sorry I--”

“Don’t! Don’t you dare!” Teris cut Yami off. “This is crazies and zealots. This wasn’t either of us.”

Yami gritted his teeth. The blood slick bonds that held him were no weaker or looser. His eyes closed, head banging back against the stone. Continuing to twist and pull, he grimaced ignoring the burning sting of the rope that bit and sawed into his flesh.

“Yami.”

“We’ll get out of this.” Yami told her.

“I love you.” Teris breathed.

Yami ground his teeth together, jaw muscles spasming.

“Don’t you dare give up!” Yami ordered, swallowing the catch in his throat. “I’ll never forgive you if you do.”

Teris saw the sun crest the horizon. Her heart seized in fear. Why was she so afraid? What kind of sick ceremony was this? Though she couldn’t have said why, she tip-toed, pressing her feet against the monolith as the suns light neared her toes. Her breath shortened, heart racing.

In the quiet Yami could hear Teris breathing fast and hard.

“Teris.” Yami called, his fight to get free picking up once more. “Talk to me. Teris! What’s the matter? What’s going on?”

Teris opened her mouth to answer, but clamped it shut as soon as the light reached her toes. Her entire body heated in a flash; as if a flame had touched a bottle of whiskey, only the blood flowing through her veins was the alcohol.

“She’s glorious.” Ellara breathed, the knife she had used to carve the symbols into Teris’ flesh dropping from her hand as she reach out to touch her husband and Master.

“It’s only just begun.” Alowishus muttered, eyes fixed on Teris. “The primordial force that sleeps within her will awaken and show a small piece of itself today for the first time since life as we know it began.”

Teris could hear Yami calling to her along with the threats and curses he slew at their captors; but it was as if he was doing so from some great distance. Maybe even another time or reality. The sun had risen to her mid-thighs. Teris squirmed and danced, stomping and kicking back against the monolith. She pulled against her bonds, if for no other reason than to cause pain somewhere else. Anything to take her mind off of the searing burn that threatened to consume her.

The light radiating from her grew in intensity as it reached her waist. Teris now unable to keep from screaming. The three symbols that had been carved into her began to glow.

Though they were on the opposite side of the monolith, shielded by it and the Darkness within Yami, Ellara was forced to close her eyes against the blinding Light that was Teris. The Advisor lifted her masked face, an invigorating warmth overcoming her. Ellara wasn’t the only one in the gathering feeling the effects of the reviving. Alowishus laughed manically, his arms held up and out. The Master of the Agents of Chaos stared watching Teris writhe and fight to hold onto who she was.

Teris felt on fire. No. She was the blazing fire. She was the Consuming Light. The Ray of Annihilation. Her time of power had come. No! Her mind screamed even as her voice grew hoarse as she cried at the blistering pain. She had to keep it together. She couldn’t to lose herself and forget who she was. She had to remember Yami and those she loved. She couldn’t forget what they meant to her. She had to fight and hold on.

Yami’s skin reddened and began to peal. He felt an intense heat but barely registered it as he fiercely fought to free himself.

Alowishus knew that the only thing keeping them alive. Keeping their blood from boiling was Yami’s presence between them and Teris. The land on Teris’ side of the pillar was already ablaze. The roaring fire near deafening.

What was she doing in this small, weak, frail body, Teris wondered. Her existence could not be bound. Could not be contained in a single place. She had no form. She was Light. She had been born of Life and Chaos. She had battled Death and lost. She had seen Chaos and Death form the Darkness. Her enemy. Her opposite. The lover she wanted and could never have or end. This mortal form was not for her. Yet she had chosen this girl. Why? She sensed the weakening Darkness as her power grew to its full potential. Would this be the day she finally ended him?

Teris shook her head. She was Teris Nova. Royal daughter of Lord Jaxon and Lady Resa Nova. She had two older brothers. One whom she loved dearly. The other not so much. She was a Magic Knight.

She was the Consuming Light. Her power could end or give life.

Yami roared. The stone a thousand times hotter than an iron mongers forge. His back, shoulders, and arms blistered and burned against the heated rock. His strength was waning by the second. Energy sapped from him like liquid from a punctured water skin. Yet Teris’ now constant screams spurred him on. His sole focus and need to get to her was all that was powering him. That mental will forced his battered, burned, exhausted body to move. He would not fail her. He would surpass his limits. Right here. Right now.

Yami yelled. The rope cut passed flesh to bite bone. His thoughts fell out for the briefest of seconds, eye flicking black. The cord gave.

“He broke free!” Ellara gasped.

“Impossible!” Misandre turned her gaze away from the vision that was Teris and saw the truth for herself. “Master! We must leave.”

“Not until it is finished.” Alowishus yelled, over the deafening noise, the waves of power coming off Teris pulling at his hair and cloak like a wind storm.

Yami barely paused to reach down and grab his belt. Slinging it over his head and shoulder, he unsheathed his katana and made for the other side of the monolith. He had barely taken a step when he was thrown back by a force of mana he hadn’t thought existed; at least not in one place.

The sun crested over Teris’ head. Her screams were swallowed up by the sound of raw mana pouring out of her. Her eyes began to glow white hot. All the dreams of Chaos returned in an instant. She threw her head back shooting the incinerating beams of light into the sky.

The force threw the viewing Agents of Chaos back, leaving only their Master standing.

“Teris!” Yami rolled to his knees. The shock wave of mana forced him to crouch. Driving his katana into the earth, he half pulled, half crawled back toward the monolith. “Terrriiisssss!”

“Magnificent.” Alowishus breathed, immovable in the hail of the mana storm. “Yami Sukehiro. Teris Nova. You are truly worthy to wake Chaos bring me the final death.”

Above all the noise and consuming, searing pain Teris heard Yami’s voice. It was the only thing that kept her anchored to who she was. “Yami! Yaammmiii!”

60.3.2

A burst of mana ignited the land. Seated in Greywright’s office for a morning meeting, Julius, Jax, and Greywright stood. Greywright spun around, looking out the window. Julius and Jax rushed out onto balcony.

A beam of light lit up the sky. Jax shielded his eyes. Julius squinted. The two men looked at each other as the beam dimmed and disappeared.

“Go!” Jax needlessly said, Julius already breaking apart and fading away as he time jumped.

“What are you standing around for!” Greywright barked.

Jax rushed to the Commander’s side. Greywright pulled a transportation charm from his desk drawer.

“Damn it!” Greywright cursed, dropping the thing on the desktop. “It’s not working. There’s too much surrounding mana.”

“Cob.” Jax suggested, already making for the door.

60.3.3

Julius appeared on the open slope as the last of the overflowing mana escaped Teris. Shielding his eyes from the dust and derby, he looked about. Seeing Yami, he started for him.

“Spade! Don’t let him get away.” Yami yelled at his mentor. “I got Teris.”

Yami pushed to his feet. Pulling his katana from the earth, he sprinted. He found Teris laid out on the stone platform. There was a pool of molten lava at the base of the monolith where she had likely stood. Smoke was even coming off the super heated rock where her grimoire sat.

Throat tightening, Yami skidded and slid to her. He pulled her limp body into his arms. “Teris. Talk to me Ikigai. Open your eyes.”

Yami took in the three symbols that had been carved into her chest. Running along side the lines and curves of sliced open flesh was a line of raised, welted blisters. His hand hovered over the wounds.

Pulling her closer, he squeezed her tightly. “Teris. Come on, Princess. Breath.” Yami rocked, holding her, refusing to believe she was gone. She couldn’t be gone. “I’m so sorry. Come on Teris. Say something.” Why wouldn’t she move? Why wouldn’t she breathe? He couldn’t lose her. An otherworldly cold came upon him. Rage overtaking him at the thought of a world without her. No! He wouldn’t allow it. She had to live. Same as when he had broken free of the bonds, Yami’s eyes flicked black for the briefest of instance. “Look at me, Teris! Move! Breathe damn it!”

Teris’ body jerked. She sucked in a rushing breath of air. Yami squeezed his eyes shut, thanking whatever forces had brought her back to him. She coughed.

Yami brushed back her hair. “It’s alright. I got you. Julius is here. It’s over.”

Hearing Yami’s voice, Teris turned away squeezing her eyes all the tighter. “Don’t.” She gritted, trying to push him away, afraid she would incinerate him.

Yami gripped her, refusing to let her go. “It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s over. You’re fine.” He pressed his forehead against hers, eyes closing in relief. “You’re fine.” He breathed to himself.

Ellara, Calen, and Misandre rushed to their Master.

“We got to go.” Ellara whispered, afraid Julius would recognize her voice if she spoke loud enough for him to hear it.

Alowishus pulled his arm away from her grasp. “You go. Misandre. See my wife is safely returned.” He turned to Ellara. “Get back there as soon as you’re returned to your home.”

Ellara understood what he wanted of her and nodded.

“Calen. You and the others see everyone is transported to safety. I will join you shortly.” Alowishus instructed.

“Master.” Calen tried.

“It’s been a while since I’ve had some fun.” Alowishus told them. “And I wish to see what the possible future Wizard King has to offer. As Teris’ brother, his power should be exemplary.” When they didn’t move he ordered. “Go!”

“It would be wise if you tried to run along with them.” Julius said, stepping a few paces away from him. “Not that you’d get very far.”

“Julius Nova. The next Wizard King. Now why would I run from you?” Alowishus questioned.

“You’re right.” Julius said holding out his hand in front of him, calling forth a time sphere. “It would be a futile endeavor.”

Alowishus smirked. He’d rid the young man of his arrogance soon enough. “You’re the one that found Yami Sukehiro. Correct? Took him under your wing. Taught, supported, and defended him.”

“Yami needed little support or defending.” Julius told.

“Tell me. Did you know from the beginning that he was something special? That he’s the seventh son of a seventh son of a seventh son.” Alowishus asked.

Julius blinked at that.

Seeing the mans expression, Alowishus remarked. “I see you are like me. Not knowing the full meaning of such a thing, but knowing that it is significant. That such numbers in such a combination are powerful in and of themselves. Your sister survived by the way. I knew she would. She is strong. Her tie to Yami great. He was the one who anchored her to herself. Who called her back from the force that is within her. You should thank him for her life when you get a chance. For all the kingdoms lives. If she had given in and perished, they and the lives of most beyond the four kingdoms wouldn’t exist. Then again. You likely won’t get the chance to thank him for your lives as I will soon be ridding you of yours.”

“It’s the Solstice.” Julius murmured, feeling stupid for not realizing sooner. “The longest day of the year.”

“And the day of the Lights greatest power.” Alowishus nodded.

“Now that I know what you’re up to do you think I’ll let you do the same with Yami come winter?” Julius questioned.

Alowishus grinned. “I’d imagine you’d try to stop me.”

“I’ll stop you now.” Julius struck out. He sped time around the Master of the Agents of Chaos. When nothing happened, he pulled back in surprise. Calling forth his grimoire, he tried again. When it still didn’t work, he attempted to hold him in a stasis sphere.

Alowishus lifted a brow, smirking at the Julius’ confounded scowl. “Admirable attempt. But, time has no hold on Death.”

Julius made to try something else.

Alowishus shook a finger at him. He took a step, his image a blur. Suddenly he was on Julius who had been a couple meters away. Julius blinked in surprise, wondering what kind of magic the man had.

“My turn.” Alowishus grabbed Julius by the collar. Lifting him with a single arm, he slammed the Captain into the ground.

Yami was loathed to leave Teris. She was still too weak to stand. And though both their mana was so low as to be nearly nonexistent, their mana was also too raw and wild to trust him letting his near hers.

Still held in Yami’s arms, Teris croaked. “Julius is struggling.” She was too out of it to do any more than comment. Shock at the fact that her brother had faced difficulty would come later. “We got to help him.”

Yami didn’t have to try to stop her from getting up. Teris’ muscles tensed in an attempt to move, but that was all that happened. She was spent.

“He can manage.” Yami said, confidant in his mentor. As much as he hated leaving the fight to Julius, he wouldn’t leave Teris. What if one of the Agents of Chaos’ spatial mages appeared and took her the second he stepped away?

Teris struggled to turn her heavy head to look up at Yami. “We can’t let Alowishus get away.”

Blinking heavy eyes, Yami swallowed more grit than saliva, his mouth and throat so dry. He looked down at her in grateful awe and tenderly caressed her face. “Julius won’t let him. He’ll capture or kill him.”

“Your wrists.” Teris breathed, seeing the raw, deep cuts that had been cauterized by the heat.

“It’s nothing.” Yami said, struggling stay seated upright. He had never felt this weak and spent in his life. Even his experience with Lotus Whomalt’s ash magic hadn’t left him half this bad. The only reason he hadn’t fallen over and succumbed to exhaustion was adrenaline and his will to be strong for Teris.

“Just rest. We’ll get you to the healers soon.” Yami told Teris.

Julius was forced to go on the offensive which was a new experience for him. Even as a first year Magic Knight he had rarely used any of his offense spells. Still confounded that his magic seemed to be useless against his foe, Julius backtracked. He flew through the air; ducking, diving, and weaving away from his pursuers onslaught. No matter how much he sped the time of his own movements Alowishus was able to match them. How? Julius was knocked from the sky and sent spiraling, having never seen the strike that knocked him off course.

He hit the ground hard, body leaving several gouges in the earth as he tumbled. Alowishus landed on him with such force and speed that it knocked out whatever air Julius had left in his lungs. Alowishus’ weight and strength broke passed Julius’ mana skin and snapped several of the Captain's ribs.

Julius gasped, sucking in lungfuls of air. He coughed, sputtering at the pain. His hand lifted, time sphere once again appearing. Alowishus grabbed the mans wrist, his own magic fighting against Julius’ to weaken and subdue the Magic Knight.

Yami saw Alowishus break passed Julius’ mana skin. The Master of the Agents of Chaos stepping on and over Julius’ prone body.

Rather than admit the Captain had proved a challenge, Alowishus lied. “As the Ray of Annihilation’s brother I find you a great disappointment, Julius Nova.”

Though Julius’ time sphere weakened and dimmed, Alowishus could still feel it slowly aging him. He had to crush it and the man. He had waited countless year for this. The trails that would bring Chaos forth had begun. Alowishus refused for things to be put on hold. Death might be patient, but it also waited for no man.

Beginning at the wrist his foe held, Julius’ hand weakened and withered. His time sphere broke. Julius’ eyes widened in shock and horror.

Alowishus sneered above him. “I pity the future of the Clover Kingdom if you take the helm of their Magic Knights. Not that there will be a future for any kingdom once I’m done. Goodbye, Julius Nova. It’ll be a shame I won’t be able to take your corpse and make use of your eyes or hands.”

“Julius!” Yami yelled. He pushed passed his limits and pushed to his feet. Weak and dizzy, legs like a new born fawn, Yami tripped. He staggered and hit the side of the monolith. His flesh sizzled and stuck to the super heated rock. Gripping his katana, Yami forced what little was left of his mana to cloak his blade in darkness and sent it out toward Alowishus with every ounce of strength his tense, tired, spasming muscles could muster.

At the same time Teris focused her last reserves, condensing it into her palm. Unable to lift her hand, she turned her head resting her cheek against the still hot stone slab. Closing an eye, she aimed.

Light and dark hit Alowishus and sent him flying. Yami crumbled to the ground beside Teris, both unconscious.

Greywright and Jax appeared with Cob. Taking a quick scan of the area, the Magic Knights Commander pointed at Yami and Teris. “Cob. Get them to the healers, have a team of guards placed on them. Then return.”

Greywright called upon his magic to create an army of men that surrounded the splayed out figure he didn’t recognize but assumed was the enemy.

Jax rushed to Julius’ side.

Julius sat up. shaking his head. “My magic was ineffective. It didn’t work on him.”

Jax turned to look at the still downed enemy in wonder just in time to see Alowishus Spade disintegrate into dust with one last word.

“Magnificent.” Alowishus breathed of Yami and Teris.

Thank you to those who have left hearts. And a special THANK YOU to those who have recently left comments or re-blogged. They really mean a lot.

Taglist: @captncappuccino .

Next chapter snippet:

“Bronn.” Jax warned.

“No!” Bronn shouted, refusing to stand down. He pointed an accusatory finger at Greywright. “This is on them! Him and his precious Wizard King decided not to tell those kids what was going on and ordered us to keep quite.”

#Black Clover #yami sukehiro #julius novachrono #light in the darkness #fanfic

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