#Valiant Souls: A New Perspective | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

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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fishoutofcamelot · 4 years

Note

I saw your r recent contribution to the post about hard vs soft magic systems and I agree wholeheartedly. You also mentioned having a bunch of worldbuilding and stuff about the magic system, and I was wondering if you'd be willing to share some?

(For reference, this is the post in question)

Certainly! While the worldbuilding/magicbuilding hellscape i was describing in the notes is actually in regards to an original-content wip I've been working on, i also have a LOT of headcanons regarding the BBCM magic system too! (Do not ask about my wip's magic system, because i won't be able to shut up about it)

WARNING: long post ahead and mobile won't let me include a cutoff/read-more line. If you're not interested, get ready to scroll down like your life depends on it (and it does).

So! First things first. Here's what we know about the BBCM magic system:

Magic requires spells, most of the time. This seems like a no-brainer, but still an important distinction. There are a lot of magic systems that don't require vocalized spells - Avatar: the Last Airbender, Fullmetal Alchemist, and Ninjago, to name a few. Spells are rather common for wizard/witch/medieval fantasies, and are typically used to control and channel the intent of the magic. This suggests that the magic of BBCM is some kind of force or energy that needs spoken commands to control.

Spells are repurposed words from Old English, aka the language of the Old Religion. (Let's ignore the obvious anachronistic nightmare of the fact that Old English is exactly the same language they would've been speaking in this time period.)

The use of a spell causes someone's eyes to flare gold, plus that fancy wooshing sound effect that Arthur miraculously never hears. This suggests that magic somehow changes your physiology, although it could be also just be a side effect of channeling.

However, magic doesn't always require a spell. Though never fully explained, it appears to be something only innate magic users are capable of - Merlin, Morgana, Mordred. It is something less controllable than spellwork, typically governed by moments of strong emotion rather than logical intent.

The show consistently flip-flops between the idea that magic is something you're born with, and that Merlin is rare for being born with magic. It's never clarified just how someone acquires magic. Gaius asks Merlin where he studied, suggesting that it's something you can learn, while Balinor claims that you either have it or you don't. Though not confirmed fact, i suspect it's similar to how it works in the show Supernatural. There, some witches are natural-born, while others are taught (and some get their powers from spooky demon deals).

It has a life-for-a-life policy. Basically like the Law of Equivalent Exchange from Fullmetal Alchemist, a life cannot be created without another one being sacrificed first. This rule only canonically applies to creating life/the Cup of Life, and any other possible applications aren't addressed.

This rule apparently doesn't apply to animals, as Merlin brought a dog statue to life without killing anyone (that we know of), and Valiant's shield had three live snakes in it. However, it's possible that lives were taken as payment in the process of animation without Merlin's knowledge, but it never happens on screen so we don't know. So either a) animals don't have souls to exchange in the life-for-a-life policy, b) they do but it happens off-screen, or c) those animated animals aren't actually alive.

The Cup of Life infuriates me from a magicbuilding perspective. Ignoring the obvious question of how it came into the druids' possession, its existence isn't clearly defined. Does it require the fancy rain ritual that Nimueh gave it, or was she just extra? Why does drinking from it give you life, while bleeding into it makes you undead and also mindlessly obedient to the sorcerer who made you as such? Were there life-for-a-life consequences for creating an immortal army? Wtf happened on the Isle of the Blessed to allow Merlin to "master life and death", and what does that even mean? All valid questions that never get answered.

Spells sometimes need need a 'source'. Think the staff from "The Tears of Uther Pendragon" and Morgana from "The Fires of Idirsholas." It is unclear what makes these spells different/special.

There is a power hierarchy. Some spells are too powerful for some practitioners to cast, although the reason for this is unclear. Does it drain you of energy/life force? Do you exhaust/overwork your magic muscles? Do you get a little pop-up that says 404 Magic Not Found? Unclear.

Magic is something that can be trained and improved. For example, Morgana gradually became more powerful over time. Merlin naturally had a lot of power straight off the jump and just had to discipline it, but he's a ~special~ case so he doesn't count.

There are some subsets of magic that are definitively born traits. Morgana is a Seer, possessing this capability even before her magic manifested. Likewise, Merlin is a dragonlord, which he inherited from Balinor. Although Balinor did mention that it wasn't a sure thing he would have the ability until he faced a dragon, so there may be some variation in whether or not someone lucks out in the Magic Gene Pool. This may suggest that natural-born magic is hereditary, as both Morgana and her sister Morgause had it. Vivienne and Gorlois both probably didn't have it, otherwise you'd hear Uther bellyaching about it, which raises the question of where they got it? A grandparent, perhaps? Maybe they both carried a recessive magic gene or something...

Unless you're Merlin, magic can be taken away by the Gean Canagh. It's not explained how this is possible, though, as it's never explained how you acquire magic in the first place. But Merlin never lost his magic because he's "magic itself" which if you ask me is just a deus ex machina wrapped inside a headache wrapped inside a heaping load of chosen one bullcrap. But it's canonical lore, so we have to consider it.

Despite my previous complaints, i actually find the idea of Merlin being "magic itself" rather intriguing. Is he a creature of magic, like a dragon or a questing beast? Is his body made of magic, like how a statue might be made of clay? Does it run through his veins like blood? If this is the case, then why didn't he suffer more severe ramifications for losing his magic? Why didn't it kill him? How did it restrict his magic in the first place? Placebo effect? The fanon explanation is that he's "the living embodiment of magic" but that makes my bullcrap richter scale shoot off the charts because that makes NO sense whatsoever. "Son of the earth, sea, and sky?" What does that MEAN?

There is a vivid link between magic and the Old Religion, which has its own beliefs and rituals and deities. Primarily, the Triple Goddess. The Triple Goddess is actually an existing deity in Neopaganism and Wicca. This also suggests the existence of the Horned God, another entity from neopagan lore and her masculine consort/counterpart, but that is never confirmed.

WHO. OR. WHAT. IS. THE. FREAKING. DOCHRAID. She's described as a creature of magic, which suggests that humans/humanoids can be creatures of magic, fueling my theory that 'Emrys' isn't human.

Destiny exists. It is unclear who creates/writes destiny, who controls it, who or what is privy to knowing about it, and what that means for the concept of free will.

The crystal cave is a thing, i guess. It's the heart of magic, is haunted by Taliesin, and is filled with prophetic crystals. I actually skipped the episodes that involve this stuff because i disliked them, so i don't know much about the Crystal Cave. Apparently ghosts can manifest there tho???

The veil is a thing too. It is unclear how some spirits can retain their human figure and mentality, like Balinor and Uther, but others become dorocha. I imagine its also like Supernatural - being a ghost for long enough will drive you insane, and though it takes a while all spirits eventually turn into dorocha.

Creatures of magic exist. These are normal creatures who have magic imbued into them somehow.

Okay, i think that's everything we know. It seems like a lot, but keep in mind that all of those rules are VERY nebulous. But that at least gives us a jumping-off point!

So here's my working theory/headcanon.

Magic comes from a connection to the spiritual energies of the Triple Goddess. Kinda like a third eye, and for the sake of simplicity that's what we'll call it. The druids have adapted a way of life that revolves around faith and magic, likely in an attempt to cultivate and one day attain this Third Eye. Like Gaius, who trained with the High Priestesses, you can study and practice and discipline yourself into acquiring it.

Magic is a cosmic force owned by the Triple Goddess, accessible to anyone with the Third Eye link. Imagine the Triple Goddess as a milkshake and the so-called Third Eye as a straw. The studying and training that people dedicate their whole lives to is basically just looking for/building a straw.

However, some people are just naturally born with a straw in hand, but require practice and study to be able to properly use it. Or like Morgana, it takes a few years for them to even find it/activate it.

Spellcasting is essentially just sucking through the straw, and the vocalized spells gives that Magic Milkshake some purpose/intent/shape.

The bigger the spell, the more Magic Milkshake is required. Some people have bigger/wider straws than others, so magic comes easier for them. But with enough training and practice anyone can widen their straw/strengthen their straw-sucking muscles to cast with the big leagues.

The Gean Canagh devours your straw/Third Eye. Perhaps you have to rebuild a new spiritual connection from scratch, or perhaps it permanently severs any and all connection to the Triple Goddess. Like getting excommunicated from the Church, only worse.

The Crystal Cave was/is the Triple Goddess's home, but she's out of town on a business trip atm so she left the spirit of her most loyal follower, Taliesin, to look after the place. It's super powerful and has all those cool crystals because it's hella steeped in her magic juices.

While most magic users get a standard-issue straw, others get Fancy Premium Membership Straws. Normal joe shmoes like Gilli have plastic straws, while a Seer like Morgana has a metal one or something (can you tell this metaphor is starting to get out of hand?). Those Premium Straws are only hereditary in nature. So there's a Seer Straw, or a Dragonlord Straw, or a Disir Straw, but it's also not a sure thing you'll even inherit it at all. It's all luck of the straw draw.

Creatures of magic aren't just animals that possess straws, though. They've been made/produced using magic rituals and processes and spells. Like Nimueh's afanc, nathairs, wraiths, shades, etc. So probably like a thousand years ago, some especially powerful shmuck came by and invented dragons. Which leads me to an important question: WHO THE HELL THOUGHT THE DOCHRAID WAS A GOOD IDEA.

Im reluctant to say these creatures were invented by the Triple Goddess, though, for reasons I'll get to in a moment.

So this still leaves the whole Cup of Life, life-for-a-life policy thing to be explained. I do believe that the policy is universally applicable to the creation of souls, and i do believe that animals have souls too. But individuals get their souls exchanged for those of equal value. So every soul has a certain weight to it, and you need to exchange souls of equal weight to create one. So when Merlin brought the dog to life, some random dog somewhere dropped dead against his knowledge.

Creating undead armies involves killing them and then resurrecting them. That's what 'undead' means. Zombies. So yes, to raise an immortal zombie army, Morgause's spell probably caused a bunch of people around the world to mysteriously drop dead.

Which leaves two last things to explain: destiny and Merlin.

Destiny is, i think, a combined effort between human choice and supernatural predeterminism. That is, for the most part humans make their own choices, but there are occasions where the Triple Goddess has to step in and do some course correction. Uther starting the Purge was free will, but Arthur and Merlin's destiny was an act of divine damage control. The Triple Goddess sets destiny into motion and informs a chosen few about it.

Okay SO. That leaves Merlin. And this is the bit im kinda excited about.

The Triple Goddess is a reservoir of power, a cosmic force of spiritual energy intrinsicallu linked to the fabric of the universe. People can spiritually reach out and tune into/channel her supernatural frequencies. But as a milkshake cannot suck itself through a straw, the Triple Goddess likewise cannot cast a spell. She can influence destiny, but she can't physically cast any magic on her own. That's why she didn't create the creatures of magic.

So a few years ago, Uther hecked up big time. And people of magic, the Triple Goddess's followers and acolytes and straw connections, were dying in droves. I can imagine that all those Third Eye tethers snapping en masse was painful for her to go through. She relies on the tethers to remain connected to the real world, and if all the tethers snap then she will be cut off from Earth altogether. And Earth requires magic to continue existing/thriving, so that's kind of a no-no.

So, the Triple Goddess knew that the only way to save the world was through divine intervention. Thus began the destiny of the Once and Future King and Emrys. She knew humanity is bigoted so there was bound to eventually be a repeat of Uther, so she made OaFK resurrectable, so they could keep him on the bench in case anyone ever needs him again.

Where does Merlin/Emrys fall into things?

Well. The Triple Goddess knew that saving her people and the world would require an immense magical undertaking, something no ordinary magic user would be able to pull off. But she has the power, if only she could use it. But a human can. So the Triple Goddess decided to be reborn into the body of a dragonlord's son. Merlin. Emrys. Magic itself.

Of course, this whole Being Born As A Human Thing is tricky, and as anyone familiar with reincarnation knows, you don't usually recall your past lives. So she became Merlin, unaware that he was ever the Triple Goddess. (Although she did add a clause saying she'd be destined to remember her past life eventually, which got hecked up for reasons ill explain later)

That's why so many creatures of magic/magic users recognize Merlin by his presence, why thr druids carry such reverence for him. Whereas the sidhe and other individuals don't recognize him, because they are blinded by heresy. They may have a spiritual connection to the Triple Goddess, but do not use her magic as she intended, and she's too busy wearing jaunty scarves to excommunicate them herself.

Why get the Once and Future King involved when she could just save everyone herself? Well, the Triple Goddess prefers to let the humans keep their agency and save themselves, and would rather remain in the role of protector/helper. Its just her nature.

But if that's the case, then why did Arthur's destiny fail? It's simple: Kilgharrah.

Remember what i said about the Horned God, counterpart to the Triple Goddess? Yeah, that's Kilgharrah. Like the Triple Goddess, he's another power reservoir, but he's jealous because people worship her and not him. He is against everything she does and actively seeks the destruction of the Triple Goddess's magic/influence for Jealous Evil Reasons. To stop him, the Triple Goddess enlisted some of her followers to bind him into the body of a dragon (perhaps this is how dragons were created) so he would never be able to do that. Years later, the Purge happened and "Kilgharrah" got locked away, further cut off from his power.

When Merlin walked in, unaware that he used to be the Triple Goddess, Kilgharrah seized his chance at revenge and manipulated Merlin into setting him free. Then, once free, he decided to lay claim to the power vacuum left by the Triple Goddess's quasi-absence. He began controlling destiny in whatever limited capacities he could, using magic of his own to permanently bury Merlin's knowledge of his past life. Then he ensured that Arthur would die and the Triple Goddess's magic would never return. But since he doesn't have FULL control over destiny (his powers are still limited by his dragon form, after all), he couldn't rewrite the bit where Arthur gets benched in Avalon. He's probably conspiring with the sidhe to ensure Arthur stays trapped there forever, or else he would've come back a long time ago.

As for how the Gean Canagh took Merlin's magic...well, yes, it devoured his Third Eye straw, but those are created by a strong spiritual connection to the Triple Goddess. And since he's literally the big TG himself, all he had to do was find himself again (by returning to his old home, the Crystal Cave) to recreate a new one.

Over the last 1500 years, Kilgharrah/the Horned God has been steadily accruing followers and worshippers in the hopes that one will become strong enough to release TG's bonds on him. Then he can kill her once and for all and claim full dominion over the universe, with the sidhe to support him.

I imagine that's how Arthur's resurrection would happen - Arthur and the rest of the dead Round Table are in Avalon when they learn about the treachery and plot to kill Merlin/take over the world, and spend the next few hundred years fighting their way out of Avalon.

Okay, I think that just about covers it. God, that was long. Any questions?

#i should probably write a fic for this huh #bbc merlin #merlin bbc #merlin #bbcm #ask #magicbuilding #fish post

154 notes · View notes

soulmate-game · 4 years

Text

Oneshot #3

Just one (1) imagining of Mari and Damian meeting as kids.

Darkness clung greedily to every street corner, and perhaps nobody would truly know whether it was the sheer viscosity of every shadow or the scope of talent in the newest Robin, but even clad in bright greens and reds and yellows the brand new vigilante easily slunk around unseen.

A shrill scream rang out in the air, sounding young. Unfortunately (or fortunately) Robin wasn’t the only one with the ability to slink around unseen in the Gotham night. His father and mentor followed close behind as they both made a beeline towards the newest disturbance.

What they saw was… not exactly what they expected. See, they had expected a little girl in the midst of getting kidnapped. While they weren’t exactly wrong, they had not at all been anticipating the kid’s apparent mother to be there.

Or that said mother had already beaten down four of the five traffickers after her daughter with a broken mop handle from the nearby dumpster.

The little pigtailed girl cowering behind her mother was scared without a doubt, tears pricking the corners of her startlingly bright blue eyes, but she was making a valiant effort to stay brave. She was biting her bottom lip, doing her best to suck in the tears and stay as silent as possible. And when the fifth and only attacker to remain conscious managed to slice along her mother’s arm with a knife?

Well, neither vigilante about to jump into the scene expected the terrified girl to grab a little grocery bag of trash that was nearby and toss it at him.

“Don’t touch my Maman!” She yelled in heavily accented English. The weak knot holding the bag broke when it hit the guy’s face, releasing used tampons and a half-empty bottle of milk over his head. The momentary surprise and disgust allowed enough time for the clearly Chinese mother to land another smack with her broken broom handle, and for Robin to jump down and take the fight away from the two civilians.

Batman stayed back, tying up and securing the already defeated traffickers while keeping a close eye on his son. The last thing he needed was for the boy, only on his second month in Gotham, to traumatize the little girl with murder.

But Batman made the mistake of dragging the goons to the corner of the alley by the street. When Robin rose his sword to deliver a killing blow to the guy’s heart, the Bat was too far away to make it in time.

“ROBIN!” He barked, hoping the tone of his voice would be enough.

It wasn’t.

Instead, a tiny hand came out of seemingly nowhere and latched to Robin’s wrist. The boy froze. Suddenly in front of him, blocking his blade from reaching its target, was the girl. They were the same height, he realized, and her blue eyes bore into his with startling ferocity despite the tears.

“He’s… asleep,” she told him, clearly meaning “knocked out” but lacking the right words to say it in English. “No killing. Will do nothing. Will only make you bad like him,” she told him sternly, scolding the vigilante despite the clear difference between them. One, a girl who threw a trash bag and the other, a boy who would kill with a katana without a second thought. “Maman needs… doc-tor,” she stumbled over the word, but despite the accent managed to get it out decently understandably. “Help her instead of hurt him.”

“Marinette!” The adult woman had finally gotten out of her shock, one hand pressing her sleeve over her shallow but long wound tightly even as she ran over to her daughter. She started to speak in French, and was halfway through asking her daughter if she was okay when Robin sheathed his sword without a word. As soon as the weapon was put away, a bright flash of green light erupted from where Marinette still clutched his wrist.

As if stung, the kids sprung away from one another. They both blinked, and when their eyes reopened it was to their vision suddenly being sliced in half like a video game. One half was their own perspective, the one they were used to seeing. The other was…

From the kid they just met?

Robin found he was staring straight at himself in half of his vision, and Marinette realized the same thing. They were seeing from both of their perspectives at once.

Bright, green-and-pink letters flashed before their eyes in bubble text, reading: Soulmate Game! Romance, Start (but not too fast)!

“YOU’RE my soulmate?” Was the first thing Robin asked, voice incredulous and unflatteringly surprised. “But-but you’re so tiny, and clearly untrained! Far too naive, and reckless, and you are wearing a bright pink skirt at night in Gotham City. There’s no WAY you can be my equal!”

Marinette puffed out her cheeks angrily. She might not have been the best at speaking English, but she was good at understanding it. She just had trouble forming the words sometimes, her mouth being too used to Cantonese and French to easily adjust to the more blunt and enunciated American English.

“And you’re mean and dumb and scary, but I didn’t choose you! Maybe it’s my job as your soulmate to make you nicer. Here, smile!” She lunged forward with all the audacity of someone who did not know Robin AT ALL. Pinching his cheeks a bit too roughly to be accidental, she pulled them apart and lifted them up so that he was “smiling.”

He batted her hands away, albeit a bit slower than usual. The multiple perspectives were incredibly disorienting, and he found himself confused as to which one he should focus on. Marinette didn’t seem to have that issue, easily shrugging off his rude gesture and lunging forward to try her assault a second time.

This time, when he tried to knock her hands away, Marinette grabbed one and locked it behind his back.

“Wha— I thought you were harmless!”

“Not my fault,” she cooed with false sweetness. “I never SAID I was har-harmless,” she kept his hand firmly pinned at the base of his spine, and while Robin knew he could twist away, she was still a civilian and his soulmate and he didn’t want to hurt her. Much. He did have the urge to flick her forehead though. “Maman teach me a little. She says she will teach more when I get older. See? I will be equal with you! Maybe not yet, but later!”

Damian bit his lip, forcing himself not to scowl. His grandfather had been of the mind that soul bonds were next to worthless, but his mother had a different opinion. She had raised him to treat his soulmate as nothing short of his equal. If he was an assassin Prince, then his soulmate would hold the same title. The universe paired everyone with who it deemed as the most complimentary to them. The one whose strengths would cover their weaknesses and vice versa. If he was strong alone, having his soulmate by his side would make him and his empire exponentially stronger and more stable.

So said his mother, anyway.

So he would not attack her. Not outside of a spar, that is. And they WOULD spar. He was not allowing his soulmate to only know rudimentary self defense, it was an insult to his name.

Whether he meant Al Ghul or Wayne, he didn’t know yet. Maybe both.

“Your mother TAUGHT you a little,” Damian corrected instead of insulting her like he would have normally done. Not much of a step up, but noticeable enough for his father to raise a brow behind his cowl. “Now let go, I thought you wanted us to get your mother first aid?”

Marinette huffed, clearly not pleased with his attitude still, but relented. She backed away from him, and followed him to where their parents were waiting for the police and an ambulance to arrive. The sirens could already be heard not far away. She waited until after her mom had a bandage firmly wrapped around her cut, which had also been properly disinfected, and had turned the police’s offer of a ride home down. She offered to give her statement the following morning instead.

The officers had been bemused, but Sabine didn’t care. Her daughter’s soulmate was a vigilante, and there was no way she was letting either of them run off without a talk.

“Don’t you sneak away, Batman!” The woman’s sweet but somehow terrifyingly stern voice cut through the otherwise silent air, stopping the vigilante in his tracks. He had been about to pull one of his signature vanishings, but apparently Sabine’s motherly instincts were not having it.

The little Asian woman firmly poked a finger into the much larger man’s chest, leaning in fearlessly with righteous fury in her almond shaped eyes. “My daughter is your prodigy’s soulmate, so you don’t get to just leave. Whether you like it or not, their connected now and I’m not about to let you keep them apart for her “safety” either. My little baby deserves a chance with her Destined. And that means she’s gonna be in danger because of your night life whether we like it or not, so I don’t care how painful this is gonna be for you. You’re letting us in on it. But ground rules? She’s not joining you. You might have taken other kids on this dangerous hobby of yours, but she won’t be one of them. What you CAN do is help me train her, so that she can at least protect herself from whatever danger might follow her because of this. What you CAN’T and WON’T do is ignore us once we go back to Paris and expect that I won’t hunt you down and make you regret ever trying to get rid of us. You and I are gonna make sure our kids get to have their soulbond and enjoy it to the best of their ability, and you don’t get a choice in the matter. Understand?”

Robin and Marinette were left blinking at the fearless woman as she laid into the well known vigilante and one of the founding members of the Justice League. Even more impressive, Batman didn’t seem to be capable of arguing with her. Every attempt was thoroughly thwarted until he was left with a growl of defeat in his throat and a triumphant Chinese mother smirking at him.

“Are you sure SHE isn’t my soulmate?” Robin whispered to Marinette, earning a snicker.

—*—*—*—*—*

THREE YEARS LATER

“The stadium is this way, Ladybug!” Adrien pointed the correct direction, but his heroine partner was still lagging behind.

“Hold on!” A familiar static had given her the warning she needed. Far too familiar static. “Keep going, I’ll—“

“Marinette, are you alright? Who is with you?”

The girl cursed under her breath, glad that at least she was the only one who could hear the voice.

“You’ll what? What’s wrong?” Chat Noir asked, slowing down as he looked back at her in concern. She sighed. Best to tell the truth.

“It’s my soulmate, just finish heading where we agreed! Right now he can hear everything I can hear!”

“Oh meowch,” the cat themed hero flinched. “That’s not great. I’ll just, uh,” he took an awkward step to the side before hauling tail away. Everyone knew better than to get between soulmates, especially when one was in potential danger.

“Who was that?” The icy voice of Damian Wayne persisted, and Marinette could pretty much FEEL the suspicion through their bond. At least he was still in Gotham.

“Just a friend! From school, yeah! A friend from school!” Unfortunately, though the pigtailed girl might have learned a lot when it came to combat ever since her soul bond was completed, she had never improved her ability to lie.

“Uh Huh. Suppose I believe you, What is their name?”

“Uh, Cha— Chane! Chane—“

“Marinette.”

“I’ll explain later! Gotta go, Akuma attack, taking cover!”

“If you’re taking cover then it is best I remain on audio only mode in order to make sure you get to safety.”

Marinette dropped into the stadium, a giant robot that should have only been inside the game Ultimate Mecha Strike Three slamming into the ground behind her.

“What was that? I thought you were headed to safety! That means AWAY from the danger, Marinette!” Yep, that was genuine worry in his voice. The girl winced, she’d be getting a lecture later for sure.

“Uhh, sorry I really—“ she dodged alongside Chat Noir, struggling to focus on both the conversation and fight at the same time. “Can’t talk— right now— very busy trying to get to safety!”

Another voice, completely deadpan and just as familiar as her soulmate’s, filtered in from Damian’s side of the audio connection of their bond.

“Oh really? That’s why you’re fighting a giant robot in the center of the stadium right now?” It was Nightwing, and he was in full Protective Brother Mode. Meaning, he was not amused at all and now she had double the lecture in store for her. Marinette gulped.

Her vision split in half, a sensation she had grown very accustomed to over the years since herbond was first completed. It no longer disoriented her like it had at first.

And her new perspective showed her and Chat Noir, right as she ordered her partner to try Cataclysm on it, in the stadium. Startled, she looked up to see two costumes figures standing with their arms crossed in the nosebleed section.

“Merdé, I am so dead,” she whispered to herself as she focused back on the gaming-themed Akuma. Having seen enough villain attacks in Gotham, she knew better than to assume they had won that easily. Therefore, she was not nearly as shocked as Chat when their enemy reformed his robot. Robin used the moment to drop in next to her. “I thought you weren’t coming to visit until NEXT month. You just got back from, you know, DEATH,” she hissed out of the corner of her mouth.

“I wanted to surprise you. Looks like I have good timing,” he replied equally softly. “And before you catastrophize—“ he started as all three of them pressed the red orb next to them, and jumped into the robot that spawned for them. Which… only had two seats…Robin shoved the cat hero out of the way. “—I am not angry that you are a hero. Merely surprised you did not tell me as soon as it happened. Oh, and feline boy, Ladybug and I will handle this. Just stay back and be quiet.”

“What— Who are you, and why are you taking my partner from me?” The blond asked, thoroughly caught off guard. Ladybug just got into her seat and sighed.

“Chat Noir, meet Robin. He’s one of Gotham’s vigilantes and my soulmate.”

“Wait, really?”

“Yes, really,” Robin responded impatiently, his hands finding the controls of the robot easily. “And honestly, Ladybug, I suspected something like this would happen eventually. My family tends to be a horrible and very invasive influence. And it isn’t as if you lack the necessary skillset. Batman and I made sure of that much at least.”

“Uh, how are you guys doing this so easily?” Chat Noir piped up from where he watched as the two soulmates easily moved their robot with a fluidity that seemed profoundly natural. Marinette just smirked at her Parisian partner secretively.

“Robin and I are pretty used to combat games.”

Her soulmate laughed. She didn’t know if it was because of her inside joke, or the fact that he just found out their robot came with a cat saber.

—*—*—*—*—*

#mlb x dc #maribat #daminette

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floribus-reginae · 3 years

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.•*¨*•♫♪♪♫•*¨*•.¸¸❤Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ “If you personify love even in times of torment, of calamity or conflict, then you’re truly one of the mighty. I see how no matter the burdens laid upon you, that you show more allure than many do in times of plenty. It’s in those moments of battle and concern I see right to your soul and know that my faith in you, my love for you, is indestructible. You’re audacious, compassionate, gentle in your own way. I want you to know that I’ll be the same for you. I’ll be your mirror, bring you what you give me- true love, the lasting kind.” - Rin’s diary

A fragile contour was moving in the somberness, looking for one of her beloved spots in the middle of the woods. The same forest where she had first seen him, the forest that beheld and sanctified so many occasions between them. A love story that unfolded over time, gradually and with unconditional indulgence. Something that everyone assumed illogical, improbable, a demon like him to surrender to the enchantments of a dainty human, who has always been honorable and committed. Years passed, the flower bloomed, the loyalty prevailed unchanged but the affection grew, undergoing a colossal metamorphosis and becoming love, an affection capable of moving mountains, intellects, changing the perpetual. Rin was regarded by everyone as the princess who changed Sesshoumaru & his hostile perspective on humankind, on human ephemerality. Something so delicate, inelastic can have the endowment to battle for love and values.

They do what they must for now and trust in their plan

If I trust in mine, somehow I might find who I am….

The profound lake’s hue became the lyrical song of the petite light that played upon its wind-dancing ruffles, merged with the tender fireflies. Lady Rin knelt on the grass dimly brightened by luminescence. She elegantly inclined to appreciate the reflection granted by the liquid mirror. A crystalline portrait of a woman who savored a plethora of adventures & mellowed preserving the same gentleness, the same angelic smile, leniency for everybody. Someone who still didn’t see the people’s ominous side, the corruption that sometimes dominated the hearts of those who pursued power. “I wonder if I’m worthy enough.” Thought. Worthy of his affection, of being called his spouse. They were from completely parallel environments, & many demons found it arduous to accept that Rin was now the ruler or future leader of one of the more expansive territories. Some had been easily enthralled by her benevolence & optimism, but others hadn’t. Some prevailed stuck with conservative roots & still saw mortals as futile and vulnerable beings. Despite all the irrefutable assurances, occasionally the brunette was afflicted by reluctance.

“Iie, now is not the time for such considerations.” Murmured, shaking her head to ward off such undesired images. There were more compelling things to think about. The pre-eminence of her thoughts should change. Gaze turned from the basin to her parturient abdomen, where one of her silky palms was resting. “We have to protect them, whatever appears.” Declared, addressing her words to the man behind her. “It doesn’t matter how, but their protection at this point is the most important. I’ll never forgive myself if something grave befalls. --- I don’t care if I have to renounce myself for them, nothing is more important than them and you. ” Conviction manifested in the words enunciated with some melancholy. Rin was prepared to do anything to keep her babies alive, even if it meant destroying her own life. All she wanted was for them to have the opportunity to meet their father, of whom she was extremely proud. “I have faith in you, Sesshoumaru-sama. I trust you my life, their lives, my love.---- I trust you with all my heart. I know that you’ll do the right thing.” A clawed palm laid upon her frail shoulder. An unusual gesture, but not for her. She knew a side of him that no one else knew. A placid encouragement that was worth gold & that made her peaceful, confident in her convictions, confident in who she was & whom she had become. He was the most fearless man she had ever met & she was the most valiant woman he had ever met. Someone altruistic, a peasant who had become a princess and who had embraced a realm that wasn’t hers. Fruit of such love were the two half-demons that were evolving in her uterus & whom one day would know who the progenitors were. She didn’t know if they were going to be proud of her or not, but Rin was going to do everything, accept the harshest, the most agonizing way to protect her offspring. “I hope they’ll one day learn about your story, my story, our tale.” Her hues were viewing the reflection again, smiling at the majestic personage standing beside her. Near him, time stopped, the fear disappeared completely, vulnerabilities became a strength.

“Don’t worry. I’ll do the right thing.”

My world has changed, and so have I

I’ve learned to choose and even learned to say good-bye

The path ahead, so hard to see

It winds and bends, but where it ends depends on only me

In my heart I don’t feel part of so much I’ve known

Now it seems it’s time to start a new life on my own

But where do I go from here?

So many voices ringing in my ear

Which is the voice I was meant to hear?

How will I know, where do I go from here?

Song: Where Do I Go From Here - "Pocahontas II: Journey To a New World"

#drabble #inuyasha #sessrin #I AM CRYING WITH THIS DRABBLE I MADE #yashahime

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vdellac · 4 years

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The invisible deserves Praise

In a society that rewards blatant and glaring accomplishments, where mindless consumption is not only encouraged but valued, where you are constantly asked what you do, not who you are, where you work tirelessly only to purchase items that will reveal your status not your level of fulfilment, societal accolades come to those who have something to show for: beauty conformity, diplomas, material acquisitions, a commitment to following the road most commonly travelled in orderly fashion (school, job, wedding, house, babies) etc. The eccentrics, the empaths, the outliers, the non-conformists seldom gain any recognition or praise for their path. What happens is that all of their subtle strides go unnoticed and that is because they have very little to show for. And what I mean by that is their path often comprises of invisible achievements and subtle successes that oftentimes pertain to their inner world. Because our society rewards outer undertakings, the inner triumphs go unnoticed. •all of the books you read that have not granted you a diploma but that provided knowledge, expansion and perspective •all of the podcasts that you listened to which brought meaning and healing •all of the walks in nature, the adventures, the physical activities you provided your body which changed your energy field and the biochemistry in your brain •all of the moments of self awareness, thought patterning and the growth you imparted on your soul •all the times you could have fallen into old programmed responses, but instead created enough space for change to infiltrate and form new neuropathways in the brain •all of the times you tried something new, thus got acquainted with yourself •all of the times that you failed, where you’ve summoned courage and tried •all of the times you voiced new boundaries and put yourself first after having people pleasing tendencies •all of the messiness that your path entailed, with its up and downs, your non- linear journey •all of the times that you were dealt merciless cards, where the light at the end of the tunnel seemed so dim, but you placed one foot in front of the other and marched on forward. •all of the times that life seemed purposeless, that getting up from bed seemed impossible, but you did •all of the times that you alchemized a difficult situation into a meaningful one •all of the times that you forgave someone- but maybe more importantly yourself •all of the times that you were fully immersed in a movie, a heart-to-heart with a friend, present to the beauty of a flower, or the comfort and warmth of a cup of tea •all of the times that the sun setting over the lake was enough to get you to tears •all of the times that gratitude was a choice and surrendering what didn’t serve was a valiant act You will not get any praise for that, but I am here to remind you that it matters and that these incremental steps enhance the vibrational field of the world at large and help elevate the collective consciousness. The invisible deserves praise. You might not get it from society, for it only rewards external successes, but you need to acknowledge it within you first. You are doing invisible work, and this work matters. Presence, engagement, stillness, healing, movement, pleasure, surrender, these are the markers of a beautiful life.

#spirituality #higherself #spiritual #growth

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theorynexus · 4 years

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Funerary Rites: 92

A secondary casket, huh? Well, that provides a very interesting spectacle. It is very ironic that the character who is (arguably) most responsible for his death other than himself is given such a prime position in the procession. I am sure this is just how Dirk would have wanted it. The weather business is interesting, insofar as this provides insight into the general culture of the world: it seems as if this could be an allusion to the idea that, given their unpreparedness in such a relatively simple and avoidable situation, they are on the whole quite in danger, should an actual crisis rear its head. This reminds me of the notion that every utopia is also a dystopia. The flaws in the system that the Kids+Trolls created were already shown to us to some extent in the Meat Epilogue (where Dirk and Jane bet heavily on the fact that the populace was so ripe for manipulation and the general sensitivity of everyone to the dangers seriously motivated political operators [or corrupt gods, influenced by an imperfect world] posed to the sanctity and stability of the system was so meager that they could set up an eternal dictatorship), though I am quite appreciating the prospect of this realism being extended further in its depiction in this version of the supposed Paradise Planet’s history.

Don’t you disparage sword-based historically inspired funerary rites, Hussie! I was going to make a joke about John being dead to me, but then I realized that even though this was to some extent told from John’s perspective, he is not in control of the narrative, as of now--- at least assuming that there is not a twist suggesting that the new narrative is not being actively “controlled” by anyone, but is presently influenced by the collective will of those relevant to the local situation/timeline. But yes, inclusion of treasures (and especially swords) in the burials of important figures is awesome and reasonable, not only because it shows much respect on the part of those left behind, but also because it is very useful for future archaeologists. So shoosh!

Valiant Effort to Escape strikes me as very nice, thematically, given it feels like a representation of the nature of Dirk--- and what are Anime Swords, if not a symbol of the owner/wielder’s soul? I mean, this is why Dirk uses Bladekind in the first place. Gamzee is a piece of garbage who doesn’t deserve to be there, but this also falls under the flag of “tragic, and possibly also [a bit too] predictable.” Jesters being there to derail the seriousness of events and point out the farcical and tragic is to be expected in the greatest works of literature.

Having two instead of one, yet again, makes it seem like Gamzee is insincere in the depiction of his “Redemption,” which continues to be undetected, because he is far too good at inspiring Rage through his shenanigans. Especially the sort closely related to Void.

Today and/or that particular moment especially, yes. Jane’s actions there are curious,but I am not sure what to make of them. Violet mourning clothes are an interesting choice. John kissing Roxy’s cheek continues their expected romance arc, which I had actually somehow forgotten was a thing at this point, during my hiatus (probably because it had just started in earnest). Interesting use of the word “Nave.” I wonder also if the “barrier” of reporters was formed intentionally. Probably not.

To be expected of reporters. They seem to always try their darndest to find the most inappropriate moments for pictures (which is to say, the moments they will be most valuable), these days, without concern for the emotions of those concerned/pictured. The snot bit feels very “Hussie.” Also sortof gross. ewe

Indeed, forming some sort of enlightened and respectful reflection upon the departure of a dearly beloved companion is difficult even under the best of circumstances. I dare say that in these terrible ones, her trouble is very relatable. The said: I am unfortunately out of time. I’ll try to continue in the evening.

#Homestuck Spoilers #Candy Epilogue #Homestuck Liveblog #Dirk Strider #Funeral #Roxy Lalonde #Tragedy #Clowns #Evil #Gamzee Makara #John Egbert

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starlight-torment · 2 years

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Valiant Souls: A New Perspective - A World Without You

"Sorry Lily, I'm on a mission right now, we'll go hiking later. I won't be out for so long, so behave!"

That was the last thing she heard from Charles before he went to get the spaceship with a man she didn't recognize. She trusted him, but she also was worried for him, of course, she would be worried! The Toppats have now a station in orbit, making it easy for them to steal and the government can't do anything with the risk they destroy the earth.

When she heard the news that the Toppat Station has been destroyed, happiness couldn't describe what she felt, but that emotion quickly vanished when General Galeforce told her that Henry Stickmin – the man who she saw Charles with, and also the man who helped to take down the Toppat's Airship in the past, along with their leader and his Right Hand Man – brought the news that Charles has died when the station exploded due to him saving Henry from a random Toppat who pushed him outside the escape pod but at the cost of his safety and life.

She was devastated. She didn't know what to do. She wanted to cry at the sky, begging to have him back or take revenge on the remaining Toppats who have escaped the explosion, but that wouldn't bring Charles back, so she just had a breakdown right in front of the General.

He hugged her and stayed there, soothing her and calming her down, "Shh, I'm here, it's okay, he's in a better place." She was quite sure that she heard him cry a bit, but she wasn't mentally okay to notice anything around her.

General Galeforce told her to go rest once she finally calmed down, and she was halfway to her tent when something clicked in her mind. "That guy, Henry Stickmin, he's still here, right?", she thought. Right before she left General Galeforce's tent, she had asked him if the guy was staying there tonight, and he said yes.

She didn't know where his tent was, so she just ran past tents, in the hope she would recognize the man with Charles when they left. Right before the camp parking center, she bumped with an albino guy with red eyes, a jacket with a cool golden wing pin, brown pants, and shoes. She instantly recognized him as the person who was with Charles – "His name is Henry, dummy. Remember that!", she scolded herself.

"Ah, I'm sorry sir, I didn't see you." She apologized to him.

"It's fine, don't say sorry, I didn't see you coming too." She noticed that the man was quite in an urge to leave, but she had a couple of questions she wanted to ask before he left.

"Uh, are you, perhaps, Henry Stickmin? That guy who helped us take down the Toppat Leader and his Right Hand Man?" She asked him with caution, fearing that he may not like the question, given that the General kidnapped him to help them take down the Toppats.

The albino guy seemed quite shocked to hear that. Apparently, he didn't expect some soldiers still remember that, "…Yeah? And who are you?"

"My name is Lydia Leronheit. I was Charles' partner in many missions he was designed to. I heard about what happened and I…" she struggled to get the rest of the sentence out, but once she hold her light blue scarf, she found the strength to finish the sentence, "…I wanted to ask…how were his last moments?"

The silence between them both was so heavy that it could be cut with a knife. Lydia was about to say to Henry that he didn't need to talk about that if he didn't want to, but she was shocked when he started talking about Charles' last moments with great difficulty without crying.

She PATIENTly heard him tell her about his last moments, and the whole time she kept holding the light blue scarf dearly, so she wouldn't cry too.

"…and then, the station exploded." Henry ended the story while looking at the ground and tugging his jacket. Lydia didn't know how close Charles and Henry were, given that Charlie didn't tell anything about Henry except he helped the government arrest Reginald Copperbottom and his Right Hand Man, but she somewhat knew that he held Charles as dearly in his heart as she did.

Lydia stayed quiet for some time, processing everything she heard, and a sad laugh escaped her lips, "That's definitely what Charles would do, that little shit always cared about others' safety first and then his own."

She approached him and gave a pat on his left shoulder, "Hey, by the way you sound, I'm assuming you blame yourself for what happened. Don't blame yourself, okay? You couldn't predict what would happen, and even if you did, you know that he had a very strong will and it's almost impossible to make him change his mind when he has an idea." She gave him a warm smile and hoped her KINDNESS could get through him, "If you need anything, come to my tent. It's easier to move on when you share your pain with others, isn't it? If you can't find where it is, ask one of the soldiers, literally almost everyone here knows me, so they'll know where to find me."

After she said that, she finally left and walked her way to her tent, leaving Henry behind at the camp's exit. She was pretty sure she heard him leave and someone coming after him, but she didn't pay attention. When she arrived at her tent, something made her heart feel heavy while she was entering the tent. She looked around it, seeing her bed, some equipment she had, like some guns, a walkie-talkie, armor and a parachute in case of emergency, and an improvised nightstand with a portrait.

She approached the nightstand and picked up the portrait, it was a picture of her and Charles on their first mission together. That mission was quite fun, the mission was to arrest some Toppats in a place they had info where they would commit a heist, and Charles had the amazing plan of crashing the helicopter into them. It came on their salary, of course, and miraculously they got out alive with only light injuries but it was the best day she ever had in her life, she didn't remember laughing that much before when he crashed the helicopter with her and him inside it and the plan worked out.

After that, they went on more missions together, and she always supported his greatest plan when the chance of damaging the helicopter was low. Inspired by him, she created a catchphrase and a situation where she used it. Normally, she used it when she was about to shoot a group of criminals with perfect aim and, to top it off, she still did some pirouettes in the air before getting back on the helicopter.

"Man, I miss him", she thought. She never admitted it to Charles, but she always thought of him as her older brother. Her parents were already old when they had her, and she never had any siblings, so she always got jealous of the kids in her school because most of them had siblings and she didn't have any. So, when she met Charles, she grew so fond of him and his KINDNESS that she started to think of him as the brother she never had.

Lydia lay on her bed while hugging the portrait and thinking of all the missions she and Charles had gone together. Tears were streaming down her face while she cried as loudly as she can, not caring if anyone was hearing her.

"Charlie…Charlie, please, come back…come back, big bro…" She curled up in a ball and started shaking. Her vision was becoming blurred, it was becoming hard to breathe and her ears started to ring.

She didn't believed this. She didn't want to believe Charles has died. She couldn't live without him.

She couldn't live in a world without him.

And then she passed out.

______________________________________________________________

It was a bright sunny day, birds were singing, flowers were blooming, a perfect day to be out with friends. That was her wish, of course, but she still had to work, that was the only thing ruining her day.

Oh well, they could still go out on the weekends, so that didn't bother her. After all, everyone had their things to do, Rupert and Victoria were practicing their aim, the Bukowski twins were preparing to go out on a mission, Quentin was scolding Drake Camper and Josh Taylor again for not taking their jobs seriously and Norm was doing his tech things.

What she was doing? Just hanging around Charles' helicopter after another successful mission. They were going on missions more often than before due to the Toppat Clan being successful in launching their station in space, and it was giving everyone in the government a headache, not just the higher-ups.

They were being way harder to catch than before, because now they were in space, of course, and they had a machine that made them go down to the earth and up in their station in an blink of an eye.

She was biting her scarf while thinking of that. Apparently, arresting their leader AND Right Hand Man wasn't enough to stop the Toppats, they had someone else to take care of their plans in case something went wrong with their leader. "That little shits", she thought, she was barely getting enough sleep and stopping at home due to them. Next time she was going to shoot at their faces without hesitat-

"Lydia! I was calling you for a while, didn't you hear me?"

A sharp pain came in the back of her neck, she hissed while rubbing the place and turned to see who had hit her. A man with brown hair, green eyes, and chestnut color skin was standing behind her and staring at her. She sighed while motioning for him to sit beside her.

"Sorry Charles, I was thinking about the Toppat Clan and the trouble they have been causing us. Why were you calling me though?" She asked, looking at him with confusion.

"I was calling you because I was suggesting we go hiking the mountain tomorrow if we have free time." He said while sitting beside her. "You said you've been wanting to explore the mountain for a while, so I thought "Well if neither I nor she has any missions tomorrow, we can go explore the mountain if she wants."

"Of course! It would be nice to go hiking to take the Toppats off of our minds for a second."

They stared at the sky, looking at the clouds that came and go in many shapes and at the birds that sometimes would pass by. After the raid went wrong and the Toppats have been successful in their plan, Lydia has been constantly thinking that it would be nice to be a bird – she could fly so far away from them and live in peace in some nest in a forest or under the earth, like a bird she has studied in school that lived under the earth.

Lydia turned to Charles, she wanted to ask something to him that has been in her mind for a while, "Hey, Charles."

"Hm?" He said while readjusting his headset and shifting his gaze to her.

"You know that life in the government can be dangerous sometimes, correct?" She said, looking firmly at his eyes. "So, what would you do if today was your last day on earth?"

They stared at each other for a while, Lydia waiting for his answer and Charles deeply thinking about how he should answer her.

Finally, he came up with an answer, "Well, IF today was my last day on earth, I think I would want to spend time with my friends like I am doing with you right now!" He told her with a big smile on his face.

"Awn, stop it, you're making me blush." She said while giving him a fake punch on his arm and smiling through it.

"What? I am just stating facts, you're a great friend, Lily." Charles said while rubbing his arm and looking at her DETERMINED and with KINDNESS.

She paused for a bit, looking at him, and then giving him the best of her smiles, "Heh, thanks, Charlie, you're a great friend too."

Suddenly, the space around her seemed to shift. Lydia got startled by the sudden change of scenario and got up quickly while looking at her surroundings.

She seemed to be in front of many escape pods, and while she was looking around, she noticed that many parts of wherever she was were destroyed and had fallen on the ground or above someone, and there was an alarm sounding all over the place.

Before she could figure out what was happening, her body moved towards the escape pod 3 3 and she pressed the button beside it. When it didn't work, she looked to her right side and saw no one else other than Charles looking at her.

At this point, a whirlwind of questions was running through her head, the main ones were "What is going on?", "Where am I?" and "Why is Charles here?". Before she could ask him anything, her body moved again towards the button – Charles also did that – and she pressed the button again two times before punching it and successfully opening the escape pod.

Charles and Lydia exchanged happy looks – "Why am I smiling? I need to know first what the heck is going on before assuming if this is a good thing or not!" - and they entered the escape pod.

Charles sat in the chair on the opposite side of the chair Lydia sat while the escape pod door closed. "Ahh, well that was intense. Can't wait to go ho-"

Suddenly, the escape pod door opened and Lydia was pushed out of the escape pod by a random Toppat. Everything happened so quickly that she only noticed what happened when she was back in the escape pod: Charles had tackled the random Toppat and thrown her back to the escape pod, but that Toppat quickly recovered and tackled Charles.

She was going to help Charles to get rid of the Toppat when the escape pod door closed shut. Lydia quickly got up and tried to open the door at the same time Charles pushed the Toppat against the door, "Don't worry about me." He said that while looking to both sides, "Ow-I'll find another way!"

With that, the escape pod was launched into space, leaving Charles behind at the station. Lydia was paralyzed in shock, what just happened? Before she could answer that, she heard Charles' voice coming from an earpiece that fell to the ground.

She bent down, picked it up, and put it into her ear just in time to hear what Charles had to say, "H-Henry, you there?"

"What? Henry? My name isn't Henry, it's Lydia, you dummy, did your hit your head or something?." Lydia said, but her voice wasn't coming out of her mouth, instead, another voice answered for her.

"Yeah Charles, I'm here." A familiar voice answered in her place, and with that, Lydia started to slowly understand what was happening.

"Wait… this situation seems familiar, didn't Henry say- Oh. Oh no." Lydia finally understood what was happening – she was dreaming about what happened today, but in Henry's vision. Henry told her that Charles saved him from dying in that station, but Charles stayed behind because a Toppat tackled him. If what Henry said is true, she knew what was about to happen, and she was starting to panic.

"Man…that roughed me up. Got him though. Gotta be another escape pod around here somewhere." Even though Lydia wasn't controlling her body's actions, she still put an invisible hand in her mouth. She saw an escape pod behind the debris of the station, but there was no way Charles could make it to that escape pod before the station exploded.

"We did it though. We got 'em. Pretty good plan. You could say it was the greatest-"

The station exploded before Charles could finish his line. Lydia was shocked. She slammed the escape pod's glass window, but it was no use, and she screamed.

______________________________________________________________

"NO, CHARLES!" Lydia woke up screaming. She sat up and took deep breaths, looking carefully at her surroundings. She was at her tent, not at the space station nor in Charles' helicopter. She also noticed that she was sweating and that she slept in her uniform while hugging the portrait.

She slowly got up from her bed and got a peek outside of her tent. It was around a bit past midnight, 1:00 AM, she would risk saying. "Why did I dream Henry's memory?" she thought, as if she were hoping some kind of answer would come to that question, she looked at the portrait, illuminated under the moonlight.

She stared at the picture for a while and put the portrait on her nightstand, she changed her uniform to her pj's and lied in her bed again, and tried to sleep again. Lydia made a decision that she would tell General the next day, it wasn't that urgent, so it could wait. For now, it's better if she goes to sleep. It was a busy day for her, no, not just for her, but for everyone who knew Charles.

______________________________________________________________

Notes:

Hello everyone! My name is starlight-torment, but you can call me Arty, and this fanfic is an inspiration from the fanfic Valiant Souls, from @knightmareaceblue, go check them out!

A bit of this story is going to be interwined with her own chapters, with many lines being the same, but there are also going to be original lines, so don't miss out!

Also, I'm still practicing my art style, so be patient with me.

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cafedisco3 · 4 years

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BOY’S CRY

Before sharing his story with the world and becoming one of the most important artists of our time, Frank Ocean was a high school graduate in New Orleans scouring for jobs to pay for studio time to record his potential projects. In August 2005, Hurricane Katrina wreaked havoc across the region, provoking Ocean’s move from New Orleans to Los Angeles, California. It was in California that Frank eventually found his opening into the music industry. Landing a songwriting deal, he began ghostwriting for many of the biggest artists we know today: Justin Bieber (“Bigger”, 2008) and Beyoncé (“I Miss You”, 2009). In 2009, he started working with Odd Future, specifically Tyler, the Creator - one of his best friends, who played a pivotal role in encouraging him to continue writing songs, but for himself. Through Odd Future, Frank was able to meet Producer, Tricky Stewart who eventually introduced him to an American Record Label: Def Jam Recordings. Though this deal was meant to serve as his platform for releasing music, out of frustration he released his first mixtape, nostalgia, ULTRA, for free download on Tumblr. Frank explained that he was frustrated with the label for not being supportive of his efforts after signing. Regardless of the heightened tension in Frank’s relationship with the label, this mixtape ignited the spark of his fame to follow. Frank’s pilot success with this mixtape allowed his standing to grow tremendously, eliciting feature requests from A-listers such as Jay-Z and Kanye West, but for the most part, Frank remained highly selective with his craft and unwaveringly loyal to Tyler and Odd Future.

This origin story is only the tip of the elusive iceberg that is Frank Ocean. Since before the days of nostalgia, ULTRA, Frank has been selective with his public interactions. Once a ghostwriter for pop stars and then a secret weapon among Odd Future’s large roster, playing the background seemed to come naturally to him. However, the star within him proved too bright to contain. Still, since his rise in stature, rather than outwardly embracing the fame that was guaranteed, he chose instead to remain guarded with his art and protective of his image. Over time, this has allowed him to meticulously reveal himself on his own terms, using his art as a way to give insight into his identity. It was only when speculations about his sexuality began to circle through the hip-hop and pop community prior to the release of his debut studio album, channel ORANGE, that the once-guarded artist decided to become candid in a way he never previously attempted; on his Tumblr, through an open letter to his fans titled Thank You, Frank went on to reveal his bisexaulity:

Credit: http://frankocean.tumblr.com/post/26473798723

I don’t think I’m exaggerating in the slightest when I say that this letter was a beautiful, poetic exemplification of love. In typical Frank fashion, it wasn’t an overt admission of anything, because there isn’t anything to admit. We are who we are, and according to Frank, that is “human beings spinning on blackness”. According to Frank we are a lot more alike than we are different, regardless of our race, cultures or sexual identity. He chose to focus on what makes us all similar as humans, and if he revealed or confirmed something about himself that wasn’t clear to you in the process, then so be it. His sexuality wasn’t the point of the letter. The letter was about empathy and love. The letter was about being human. In an era were child-suicide rates were increasingly linked to homophobia and transphobia, especially in black and latino communities, Frank used his story to humanize those who had been historically demonized.

This letter birthed a chapter for Frank’s influence. When channel ORANGE arrived that following summer, these feelings of self-discovery through heartache and unrequited love reverberated all throughout the tracklist. The album itself was named after the summer detailed in his letter, the summer during which he first fell in love with another man. Frank dropping this album and his Thank You letter was powerful, valiant move. He cut through the lingering homophobia of the time and crafted a tale of perseverance and acceptance. This album allowed me, someone with completely different experiences, to appreciate his journey. He successfully detached himself from the increasingly materialistic world of the music industry and turned his art into statements that effectively captured the current state of the human condition.

There are two songs off of channel ORANGE that I believe are worth highlighting. The first is “Bad Religion”:

Taxi driver Be my shrink for the hour Leave the meter running It's rush hour So take the streets if you wanna Just outrun the demons, could you He said "Allahu akbar", I told him don't curse me “Bo Bo, you need prayer,” I guess it couldn't hurt me If it brings me to my knees It's a bad religion This unrequited love To me it's nothing but a one-man cult And cyanide in my Styrofoam cup I can never make him love me Never make him love me Love It's a bad religion To be in love with someone Who could never love you I know Only bad religion Could have me feeling the way I do

This is a story of longing, of internal conflict and crippling self-doubt. With no one to turn to, Frank resigns to confessing his deepest, most closely guarded truths in the backseat of a taxi, and his thoughts betray the confidence that many of his fans may have prematurely branded him with. These confessional thoughts instead show him in his most fragile state, one in which he seems internalize years of homophobic rhetoric. The stigma that homosexaulity or sexual fluidity is a sin, is amoral, and requires prayer and absolution is so deeply ingrained in society that Frank doesn’t even flinch when the taxi driver basically tells him to pray away his desires. Instead, he chooses grasp onto the suggestion, wondering if maybe he should find a way to detach himself from the unrequited love that has brought him so much pain - whether through religion or drugs. This song is a heart-wrenching discussion of the internal struggle felt by Frank throughout the journey detailed in his letter. Frank’s lyrics expertly navigate self-hate and heartbreak, and his execution features a stunning vocal performance that evokes a deep, soulful pain that feels universally applicable to all humans.

The second song of importance would be “Forrest Gump”:

I wanna see your pom poms from the stands Come on, come on My fingertips, and my lips, they burn From the cigarettes Forrest Gump you run my mind boy Running on my mind boy Forrest Gump I know you Forrest I know you wouldn't hurt a beetle But you're so buff, and so strong I'm nervous Forrest Forrest Gump My fingertips, and my lips, they burn From the cigarettes Forrest Gump you run my mind boy Running on my mind boy Forrest Gump I saw ya game, Forrest I was screamin' run 44 But you kept runnin' past the end zone Oh where'd you go Forrest Forrest Gump

If “Bad Religion” - and “Thinkin’ Bout You” before it - were subtle allusions to his bisexuality, “Forrest Gump”, the penultimate track on channel ORANGE, would be the unabashed coming out party. In this song, Frank beautifully covers the timeless love story from the film, Forrest Gump, but through Jenny’s perspective - one that he clearly relates to on a visceral level. In the movie, Jenny and Forrest don’t end up together - but neither did Frank and his love at 19 years of age. In a very literal sense, Forrest Gump is used as a metaphor for a man running away from Frank - referring to the different paths taken by him and the man he fell in love - and this story is another example of unrequited love. But it’s uptempo nature and Frank’s equally light singing paints it in a much different light than “Bad Religion”. Here, there is no self-doubt and he seems to believe the experience of the fling was worth it. It’s the bright result of having grappeld with his emotions throughout the album’s more dark spots. This is essentially Frank fully submerging into his new lifestyle that he explains in his letter as being “a free man”. Similar to his letter, Frank is grateful for the man he fell in love with, regardless of the outcome.

Despite this album being such a bold statement on his part, highlighting him as an artist that will stand the test of time, I’ve always felt as if its slow and melancholic vibes represent a shyer, younger Frank Ocean. Since releasing his letter and reinventing himself as a free man, the outward projection of his confidence has considerably escalated. Four years after channel ORANGE the fans were finally given a second and third album, simultaneously: Endless and Blonde. I personally cherished these albums, not expecting any new music for yet another few years, but just as I was getting used to the idea of no new Frank music, he released a single on his Beats 1 radio show, Blonded Radio: Chanel. Chanel was released in March 2017, and I can’t think of any way to describe the start of the song, besides epic:

My guy pretty like a girl And he got fight stories to tell I see both sides like Chanel

See on both sides like Chanel

The Undefeated’s online music review of this song describes these first few lyrics in the following manner: “The boastful first few bars of Ocean’s new song might be the coldest, gayest, and most securely masculine flex in the history of rap. Elegant and mellow, the song’s lyrics read as a deliberate ode to duality and non-heteronormative binaries - an ambition, that since the death of Prince Rogers Nelson, is sorely missed in black music”. Whether I’ve convinced you or not, I truly believe Frank Ocean is an icon. He has made tremendous strides through his music and personal life and his consistently made choices that have positively influenced millions. As a visionary and genius, he’s stood out not only as a singer, but as a writer, a visual artist, and an activist.

Credit: https://www.gq.com/story/frank-ocean-is-peerless

#frank ocean #blonded #chanel #bisexual #genrefluid #genrebending #innovative #inspirational #artist #visual #activist #singer #writer #bad religion #channelorange #boysdontcry #lgbtq+

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teabooksandsweets · 5 years

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The Horse and His Boy has always been one of my favourite Narnia books, and I am glad to say that this hasn't changed at all. It's also by far my favourite title. In fact, I dare say, it's my favourite book title in general, not only out of the Narnia books.

I love the way this book is written, from its style through its structure to its characterization. Having read the series only in the chronological order before, it's really interesting to see how Lewis' writing evolved over the course of the series. I can't say it got better, as it was wonderful from the very beginning on, but there is a visible sort of development, which is especially apparent in the characters and world building.

I love the way Shasta/Cor and Aravis are written – both of them are lovely people, but their behaviour is awfully much influenced from their upbringing and experiences. Shasta's distrust in other people, which lead to a sort of selfishness, and Aravis' privileged aloofness, which lead to a sort of ruthlessness – both of which they slowly but steadily grow out – are not part of their natural personalities, not part of their souls, but of what they are taught to be. Both of them have practically opposite backgrounds, but they come down to the same thing: In order to dare to be as good as they truly are, they need to learn about the good in others, and learn to believe in it. They make a wonderful pair. I also very much adore the horses – Hwin's gentle steadfastness and Bree's pompous fallacy are wonderfully written. It's especially of note that, despite them being Talking Horses, Lewis truly showed that he knew horses, and how to write them. They didn't feel like humans in horse bodies – they were truly horses. I also love the other two kids – in some ways, Corin and Lasaraleen are even more charming than the protagonists, although I don't like them more (or less) than them. They are lovable and engaging side characters and simply a joy to read about. I even think they'd get along really well – not at first, certainly not, but they both have such amazing temperaments that would at least be very entertaining to watch interacting. I also really loved the Hermit. He's a fascinating character and I would love to know more about him. I wonder, if maybe he is also a Star or some other, well, unusual person. That aside, it was lovely to see the adult Pevensies – they all were exactly what they were. Susan, the Gentle Queen who didn't fight though she could, and Lucy the Valiant in chain mail and helmet, Peter the Magnificent fighting giants, and Edmund the Just making peace and plans.

In fact – it's lovely to see a glimpse of the Golden Age, which brings me back the extended world building. In The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, the land and time of Narnia were so full of a very particular, tight sort of magic and enchantment. We knew little of the times before, and even less of the lands beyond. At that point, the World of Narnia and the Land of Narnia could have been one and the same, or else, if there had been more lands, they could also been enchanted. And then, all the more of that world we saw was so, so much later. It's amazing to actually see a story happen just a few years after the Long Winter, in two completely different countries, that existed beside Narnia all the time. Just think of it! According to Lewis' own timeline, the events in this book happened fourteen years after the Pevensies came to Narnia, so the children had not been born at that time, but all the adults we see had. There has been normal life in these countries all that time, and for some reason that does feel quite amazing to me, although I can't really explain how and why. It's just a really different feeling for the story – not better or worse, just different. It's also interesting to read a story from the perspective of characters who were born in the World of Narnia, and even more so to read one from the perspective of characters who didn't grow up in the Land of Narnia. It's the only book with no relation to our world, and that's very intriguing.

My favourite scene? I don't know. Probably Aslan's appearances in various shapes. His role was quite unusual compared to His appearances in the other books, and written in a particularly interesting, and sensitive way. The things He said to Shasta/Cor and Aravis were so very individually relevant, and their effect on them so very significant. His encounter with Bree, I dare say, seemed to have a message that went beyond the pages of the book, but I don't want to put anything into Lewis' words that might not actually be there. It's more of a personal feeling than an actual interpretation.

As for the supposed racism in this book, that I know some people will talk about: Do yourself a favour, and educate yourself. To be honest, I suppose me saying this is of no good use, but I don't want to actually discuss this, beyond saying that a lot of the complaints show some underlying racism themselves, and even more so a severe lack of understanding of this book, as well as various Middle Eastern cultures and religions, both ancient and modern. There's so many remarks on this that are made up of dramatic misinformation, and also an uncomfortable array of people who claim to care for social justice, but at the same time seem to believe all sorts of bad and untrue things about the people they supposedly want to protect, yet obviously don't respect. (It his unfortunate, but certainly not Lewis' fault, that some Islamophobic Christians have a dreadful idea of Islam that somehow resembles the Calormene Paganism, but, so do some of the people who accuse Lewis of Islamophobia.) This is on the racism related to real people.

As for the supposed racism inside the story, I dare say, if anything, the Calormenes show more of it than anyone else, and even that is very limited. I already noticed in The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, that Lewis preferred to portray the Calormenes in a fairly neutral, and even more so a very interesting way, describing them as a wise, wealthy, courteous, cruel and ancient people. He did this in a way similar to how he described Trumpkin's face, and I've mentioned before that I absolutely adore how Lewis used to set “good” and “bad” adjectives side by side, simply using them as what they are, rather than a form of judgement. He also did this for the personalities of various characters – such as Edmund and Eustace – and on plenty of other occasions and matters. It's also of note, that all criticism of Calormen was in regards to its politics and some traditions, and never were the people portrayed to be bad based on their race, which played no role at all, or their culture, which was described to be a very beautiful one.

Personally, I find the Calormenes to be highly fascinating to begin with. I mentioned the difference reading the books in the original order makes in regards to the world building, and – with The Magician's Nephew not yet written at that time – I wonder how the Calormenes got to Narnia. I mean, not only how, but from where. Of course, the Telmarines are already proof enough, that after the creation of Narnia there have been people from our world getting there, long before the Pevensies came, but also – long after Frank and Helen came. And that's the interesting thing. Because the Creation of Narnia shows that it happened when in our world, it was the late 19th century, we cannot know since when Lewis had that in mind. The Telmarines were pirates, and the Calormenes seem to come from a very ancient, at least pre-Islamic (if not older than that) Middle East. And at this point, I wonder, was Narnia meant to have been created earlier?

I think it wasn't. I actually think they seem so old, because of the very long time they've been in Narnia! (I mean the World, of course.) Narnia isn't an antique or even medieval world, even though many make it out to be. From the very first book on, Narnia was almost modern – they had the lamppost, after all, even before we learned how it got there, they has sewing machines, fairly modern books, houses that resembled actual modern houses like the house Coriakin lived in, and all sorts of other things that show that there has been a sort of modern influence in Narnia all the time. The Telmarines could have been more or less modern Pirates, who somehow had to adjust to the place, and so did – even earlier – the Calormenes. They used what they had, and somehow adjusted to a live that, even a thousand years after the Long Winter, seemed older than that. And while the Calormene religion is, in terms of inspiration, based on Babylonian religions, the actual religion of the Calormenes is based in their world, and while not religiously True, based around at least one very real deity, which proves that they actually developed the cult around Tash through Tash and on Tash, after coming to Calormen. They might have been normal, modern people from somewhere in West to South Asia, who applied knowledge of their own ancient religions to what they saw in Narnia, and while only a few decades passed in our world, their old and new views and experiences mingled over the millenniums that passed over in Calormen into the culture we finally got to see. I mean – think of the Pevensies, who went on to become quite medieval in style and manners, too. If they could come to Narnia as completely modern people, and then change like that in less than fifteen years, why shouldn't others do so over thousands and thousands of years? I think this is all quite fascinating. Some might think that the fact that Narnia is not really an “independent” world makes it somehow less interesting, less intricate, but I think the way people get there, and bring things into the world, and change and adjust them, is amazing and a completely different sort of world building.

Also!!! It has been hinted that there are even more countries than the ones we know!!! Which is so amazing!!! And makes me so excited!!! The world actually goes on beyond Calormen!!! And Calormen is huge, oh my!!!

By the way, I love the name Breehy-hinny-brinny-hoohy-hah, and I suppose Hwin also is short for a horsey name. According to Wikipedia, it's probably a contraction of “Hwinhynym”. That would be nice!

I cannot really choose a serious favourite quote (there's just too many!) so I'll go with this one: “Even though Education and all sorts of horrible things are going to happen to me.” I also don't really think I have a favourite chapter.

#chronicles of narnia #narnia fandom read-along #literature #c. s. lewis #personal

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alchemic-elric · 5 years

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𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐏𝐒𝐘𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋 𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐓𝐘𝐏𝐄 ?

repost, don’t reblog!

CHARACTER : Edward Elric

The Seeker (or Explorer)

The Seeker leaves the known to discover and explore the unknown. This inner-rugged individual braves loneliness and isolation to seek out new paths. Often oppositional, this iconoclastic archetype helps us discover our uniqueness, our perspectives and our callings. Seekers are looking for something that will improve their life in some way, but in doing so they may not realize that they have a lot already inside of themselves. They embrace learning and are ambitious, and often tend to avoid the encumbrance of support from others. Needing to "do it themselves," they keep moving until they find their goal (and usually their true self too).

Shadow Side: The perfectionist. This will manifest itself in your life as the tendency to always strive to measure up to an impossible goal or to find the “right” solution. We see this shadow element in people whose main life activity is self-improvement: going from health club to health club, traveling the world, bouncing back and forth through self-improvement seminars and workshops, etc. If this sounds like you, you might wind up feeling as though you haven't really accomplished anything through a lack of commitment.

Life Goal: Search for a better way (better life) Fear: Conformity, entrapment Response to Problem: Leave it, escape it, take off Life Task: Be true to a Higher Self Personal Gifts: Autonomy, ambition, identity, expanded possibilities

Personal Pitfalls: Inability to commit, chronic disappointment, alienation and loneliness

tagging: @valiant-noble-soul @scentedbygunpowder @citrinexdreams @fiuehrer @avariceprince @thouarepeople @flexarmstrong @cromwellharvests and everyone else who wants it! Steal it!

#dashboard games #thanks for the tag friendo!#headcanon

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thebifrostgiant · 5 years

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If You Know Where to Look - Part 6

Summary: in which Loki meets someone new, talks with a friend, and makes an odd request

Part 1 / Previous

Read on Ao3

Word Count: 3,447

Rating: T (for now)

Pairing: Loki/Reader

Chapter 6: A Rising Tide

The morning finds Loki being woken up bright and early by his least favorite servant, Therna, to be hassled into a set of his best clothing and have his hair scraped and combed until it is tangle free and glossy, the topmost layer of it pulled back and held out of his eyes by a lustrous gold clip that matches the polished shoulder clasps of his cloak and his vambraces. He manages to persuade the handsy old woman that he can, in fact, dress himself shortly before she can try to put his boots on his feet for him, and she stands behind him, wringing her hands to keep from brushing imaginary dirt from his shoulders or straightening the already tidy collar of his tunic yet again as he tightens his laces and stands, letting the lightweight fabric of his cloak flow about him like deep green waves.

He strikes an impressive image in his chambers’ mirror, even to his own perspective, accustomed as he is to seeing himself ornamented in finery and glitter. Although his appearance, customarily a point of much pride, brings him no measure of satisfaction nor delectation on this day. Instead, he smooths the indignation from his brow and softens the set of his mouth into something approaching pleasant, even if he can’t quite manage to force the sentiment to reach his eyes.

He wants to be like Therna and tuck and retuck every last stray hair into proper order, wants to fiddle with his cloak until the very idea of a wrinkle in it is laughable, wants to stall. But his hair is perfect and his clothes are immaculate, so he folds his hands behind his back, rolls his shoulders out, and struts from his rooms with a gait just elegant and swift enough to make his cloak flick out and stream behind him, but without seeming rushed or undignified.

As usual, the servants in the palace part as he makes his way to the entrance halls, but there is a poorly concealed undercurrent of excitement amongst them, buzzing ever loud just beneath the surface, and some greet him with smiles and head bows and congratulatory words that resound with a sincerity scarcely bestowed upon him. Any other day, he might even have found pleasure in their regard, gratified to be treated the way Thor ever was, like the people, his people, actually liked and respected him, but the knowledge of why they have suddenly elected to defer to him sits in his stomach like bad ale; he’s not deluded enough to believe that they would ever truly express favor on his behalf, and in fact, it is not him in and of himself they are pleased with, but the mere happenstance he has been moved through like a piece on a game board.

Indeed, it is hard for Loki not to despise the good will when given as little more than a token in exchange for his steadily dwindling freedom and conation. Few things does Loki value more than the aptitude to follow after the enticement and lure of his ever capricious desires, and losing that feels like a cage, gilded as the bars may seem to any other.

Most of all, his resentment is borne of being foisted eternally upon some woman he has never spoken to, who has never been one of said desires in any capacity — mutually so, he would imagine — regardless of his own voice and opinion on the matter, his soul-deep protests falling of the deaf ears of his father and king. The way his king sees it, the duties of being a prince take priority over the privileges the role allows. The way his father sees it, he is being willful and obstinate, acting like a stubborn child having the silver spoon taken from his mouth and kicking up a tantrum in retaliation. But with only one good eye, it is no wonder the Allfather all too rarely sees true where his second son is concerned.

It is no matter so simple as rebellion that drops like lead to his soles and weighs him down, and makes it hard not to drag his feet to the execution of his former life. It’s being condemned to be sealed away in a loveless marriage, it’s not being able to choose. He is not ruled by whimsy — he knows how to set aside his wants and how to be responsible, he is responsible — but he courts chaos by his very nature, and expecting him to relinquish that is like expecting him to never breathe again.

It is too much to ask of him to give up his heart’s blood.

But there is always too much to ask and never enough insight and with Loki trapped in the middle of it, there is nothing for him to do besides plaster on some charming smile, stand undaunted aside his royal family as he receives his to-be bride, and be what he always has been — the masterful weaver of clever illusions, mischief coursing through his veins, with a trick hidden behind his back, and his true self hidden behind his words and the dull shine of his eyes.

***

It’s a long moment before he speaks. He stills as he looks at you, seeing you awake, and you watch him warily. You don’t want his anger directed at you again. You want to turn away. You want to apologize, to thank him for healing you, you want to insist he tell you what is going on all in one breath. You don’t do any of it.

His dress is much more formal tonight than it had been when he’d saved you and cursed you in one fell swoop, all leather and gold from head to toe, befitting of his stature, and his bearing suggests far too much authority and confidence for this to be mistaken for a friendly visit, and you did not expect such. Yet his hair hangs to his chin in messy black waves, pieces of it loose from where it was gathered at the top, and his cloak is draped over one arm rather than worn properly across his shoulders. Still, despite the somewhat weary appearance, he does not seem angry. There’s a light in his eyes that worries you far more, that something brewing beneath the surface.

You wait for him to speak. You don’t know the rules of the game he is playing, and you have to pick your way forward with care, wrong-footed as it makes you feel, and it falls to him to make the first move.

“I take it you’ve been expecting my company?” he says casually, too casually, words as light as air. It’s not a question, really. Of course you have, and he knows it as well. He tosses his discarded cloak on top of one of the nearby quilts and moves further into the room, swooping nearer to your bed, and pins you with his gaze. He seems almost amused, almost entertained as you nod in reply to his not-query, like you’re some exhibit to replete his curiosity and nothing more.

“Excellent!” he says, with a very intentional cheerfulness in his voice. It’s portentous of nothing good. “I’ve always been one to appreciate a captive audience.”

***

Ülle is beautiful. The thick rings of hair hanging down her back are adorned with glass beads and faceted crystals that catch the sunlight like prisms, forming tiny rainbows that dance in the dark tresses, her dress the deep, lush color of sweet plums, cut in a characteristic Vanir fashion from a fabric so soft and supple that it moves like wine swirled in a goblet as she walks, her lips painted a matching shade, her bare arms decorated with silver circlets.

She looks like a princess already, Loki thinks, certainly dressed for the title soon to be bestowed upon her. His princess, his wife. He thrusts down the panic of that thought with fury that drowns along with it, buried far inside.

He takes her warm hand in his, brings it to his lips and kisses it like he knows he’s supposed to, but it’s like he isn’t doing it, like someone else is. She smiles at him with her pretty mouth, and he meets her eyes and sees that they are a sober amber color and he wonders, not for the first time, if she feels just as lost and sick as he does, just as crushed. But as he watches, the honeyed depths suffuse with delight that makes them glow, and he drops her hand faster than he means to, resisting the urge to take a step back.

Loki isn’t entirely sure what has him feeling so rattled as he escorts Ülle through the halls and gardens, showing her around her new home, showing her the finest of Asgard. He has always been drawn to beautiful things and has always imagined he’d find love with one who could take joy in his presence, as Ülle had. Yet he cannot shake the impression that her mirthful visage had not been a consequence of his company, not a moment shared between them, but rather a secret that he wasn’t privy to. All he knows for certain is that this is not what he imagined. This is not what he wants.

***

It’s nearly evening before he catches a moment to himself, feet trekking almost mindlessly toward the quiet shelter of Eir’s infirmary. The solitude soothes him, and he lets his shoulders loosen, lets himself breathe deeply.

Ülle had been... exhausting, to put it mildly, and Loki is making a valiant effort to give her some benefit, although he is beginning to suspect there isn’t much doubt. She talked a lot for one thing, which itself didn’t have to be bad, but she did not appear to be one for meaningful discussion, nor did she carry on about anything and everything in mindless chatter like some did — a bit annoying, perhaps, but not bad. She, however, would use her voice to express her distaste at just about everything. She seemed to like the palace alright, seemed to genuinely enjoy the gold and marble and luxury of it. But there was always something that needed to be done, according to her, always something that didn’t meet her standards, always something lacking. She was perfectly polite to him, but her tone dripped with disdain as she found fault with just about every servant that had attempted to oblige her, turning to him as if she expected him to join her in her haughtiness.

A hand clasps his arm and he tenses, nearly startled, and turns, but it is only Thor, and he lets himself relax a little.

His brother looks him over, never letting go of his arm, before he speaks. Loki huffs under the scrutiny and glares up at Thor impatiently. If this is another lecture, an unnecessary spiel about treating his woman with respect and tenderness, or however it is Thor phrases it, he’ll probably lose the fragile remaining strands of his long-suffering restraint entirely. He’s also halfway expecting a joke, the blithe jeering at his expense that only a sibling could get away with unscathed, for he knows Thor is fond of such, and is never one to miss an opportunity to tease his younger brother.

“You should have come with us yesterday,” he says instead, surprising Loki not only by the words but by the tone in which he says them. It is serious, and nearly kind, and Loki lets the exasperation seep out of his face. “You could have used something to relax you.” He squeezes Loki’s arm emphatically. “You’re taut as a bowstring. I’m worried your back might snap”

And there it is. The compassion and jest rolled into one, how his brother has always been. Loki doesn’t know whether to laugh or shove him.

“I don’t think I’d have been good company,” he admits quietly, stepping out of Thor’s reach and pulling his arm free. He gives his brother a half smile over his shoulder as he continues on his way, and Thor just shakes his head at him and lets him go.

***

You freeze at the words, trying not to find a threat in them and failing. Eir had told you Prince Loki was one for plots. And here... this was one sliding into place before you, it had to be.

You try to sit up as straight as you can, not liking the way the prince towers over you from your perch on the bed. It makes you feel small, but you don’t think now is a good time to be intimidated.

He clasps his hands behind his back, a small smile on his face.

“I believe Eir has informed you that you’ll be staying here awhile,” he says, tilting his head to look down at you.

“Yes, she has. I’d like to know why, if I may?”

There. Easy enough. You can manage to speak with a polite, even tone when you try

Prince Loki tips his head, and squints a little.

“Why she told you? Because I asked her to, of course.” His voice is soft, playful, and not the least bit funny to you.

“Why- why I’ll be staying here, I meant.” You falter a bit, less due to nervousness, although you’ve certainly got plenty of that, and more because of the spike of annoyance you’re feeling. “My prince,” you add, just in case you hadn’t masked your tone so well as you hoped.

He laughs lightly, a breathy, mocking thing, and turns to step toward the window, drawing back the curtain and staring out at the hazy purple sky. You stare at his back, watching the slight rise and fall of his shoulders as he breathes, watching him pry his hands apart and bring them to the front of his body.

“It has come to my attention that there is a role I have neglected to fill. It’s shouldn’t be beyond your... capabilities, I don’t imagine,” he says, rather aloof, and he glances back at your bedridden form. “Well,” he amends, “once you’re back on your feet, I should hope it isn’t.”

You have no theories on where he is going with this, what task, what role he thinks should be given to you, and your uncertainty wars with your rising temper. You didn’t ask for a job, and you didn’t ask for his scorn. You appreciate neither.

“And what role would you have me fill?” You make yourself ask it, even though you would rather not know the answer.

***

He talks with Eir longer than he had anticipated, but it’s a distraction he warmly welcomes. He has long known that his fascination and dedication to learning her craft had endeared him to her, and that the healer has a soft little corner of her very large heart saved for him, one that he repays with respect that is as genuine and fresh as a vernal breeze. It helps, too, that she takes no offense at his harmless wit and occasionally returns a sharp remark of her own, to both of their amusement. Somewhere along the way, the goddess had become his friend, and her company is not one that requires pretense on his part. Even when the topic at hand is serious, he can be at ease around her, and he is grateful.

Now, he is the one asking her questions, and she tells him about the young woman in the next room, the one with the scar on her face. The one who thinks of him as a villain.

Kidnapped. That certainly does have a ring of truth to it. It makes sense, it fits. It erases any lingering doubt he may have had about her overall involvement in the scheme. He had called her a runaway, to Einvald, because that is what had slipped out of his mouth at the moment, but he hadn’t had time to fully consider the matter. If he had, he might have come to the correct conclusion on his own, and finding out he had been wrong makes a muscle in his cheek twitch.

It would seem, also, that he has been negligent in another matter. Caught up as he had been in his ire, he had let it slip his mind that he had not doled out punishment. He had done little to Einvald and his men but shoo them off, dismissing them as scoundrels. But kidnapping is a much more weighty issue, and they had tried to sell a person to him. They deserve to face the retribution of their obscenity. The streets would not be safe until they are no longer on the loose, and Loki himself would see to it that they are hunted down and forced to face his wrath. And the girl, well, she needn’t fear being his wife — that post was already occupied — but perhaps, he thinks with derision, there is something he can do after all.

And with that in mind, he dismisses himself from Eir’s station and steps lightly into the hall.

***

The girl — Ásleif? Áslaug? it had passed from his mind shortly after Eir had spoken it— looks at him with eyes as cagey and fearful as those of the elk Thor and his friends favor hunting when such a creature is downed and waiting for the final strike of the knife to its throat. It makes Loki nauseated to see it aimed at him, especially when he is not the one who had wielded the blade. He smiles, letting the nasty thing that it is take form on his face, certain that its reflection in the window can be seen from the bedside.

“As you may know,” he starts in a quiet voice, “I’ll be married shortly.”

He doesn’t answer her question, not quite yet. He turns back to her in time to see the full effect of his words sink in. She’s trying hard not to look vulnerable, not to be scared, and her determination is betrayed by her crossed arms, layered over her chest as if to protect herself from him. She knows he has the upper hand as she awaits his pronouncement, knows he pulls the strings that determine how this whole scene will play out. This scene he has power over. And he revels in it.

***

“And now that my darling bride has come to Asgard,” the prince says in his rich, rolling voice, the slight note of irony coloring the words, “I realize that the servants in the palace will not be adequate to meet her needs, busy as they are with their many other tasks. And any would-be wife of mine surely deserves to be waited on hand and foot.”

And he wants you to be the one to do that. He doesn’t say it. He doesn’t have to. The implication is there, and there’s no other way about it.

It is a punishment, you realize, even if Loki is not explicitly presenting it as such. It certainly is not a privilege, as the prince would have no reason to bestow such on you even if being a maid, a lady-in-waiting, could be considered perquisite. But it is harsh, and plainly undeserved. You can’t wrap your head around it. You had been a bit rude, there was no denying it, and you were willing to make amends for that, but it is by no means incentive for the prince to requite this severely. You can think of no reason for it.

Unless Prince Loki is just an utter bastard. The thought passes through your head before you can clamp down on it, and it’s unkind, but, well, it is a reason.

And you have to ask, you have to know.

“What about-“ my family, you are trying to say my family, but the prince cuts you off.

“Oh, do relax. You’ll be well paid, it’s hardly as if you’d be a slave.”

Hardly. You want to laugh, but you don’t. You refuse to let any sound come out of your mouth at the moment for fear of the fury that might result. Oh, yes, you’ve decided, an utter bastard indeed. A condescending, callous, appalling bastard.

Prince Loki gives you one last humored glance, like he’s having fun, and strides to pick up his emerald cloak. He pauses at the doorway.

“Do consider my offer, won’t you?” he says before pushing the doors open and slipping out without waiting for an answer he doesn’t need. It is not an offer at all, and there is nothing to consider, as you know you cannot refuse.

Part 7

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