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#wait until chapter 4
c-a-e-l-a · 2 years
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Preliminary thoughts on Leona’s advice for Jamil, his perception on Kalim, and the Scarabia development implied in Chapter 6′s ending. (AKA "A Pathetic Attempt at a Scarabia Essay”)
I think I am speaking for all of us when I say that Chapter 6 has, by far, been the most interesting and satisfactory Twst arc. Ever. I don’t know where to begin in describing it, honestly, but I think you would understand once you get to read it for yourself. 
I’ll mostly be focusing on the topics I stated above, but this post will still be laden with spoilers for Chapters 4, 5, and 6, so if you aren’t up for Scarabia-centric spoilers, please skip this post!
SCARABIA PRE-CHAPTER 6 (I)
In this section, I’ll be talking about the dynamic between Jamil and Kalim over the course of Chapter 4 & 5, as well as a few of their interactions in relevant personal stories. I’ll start with the latter.
(Source: Jamil’s Dorm Uniform SSR Vignette)
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It is a universally known truth that...Jamil has zero trust in leaving things up to Kalim. And we can’t really blame him---with the way they used to be, he couldn’t leave Kalim alone, nor could he rely on him to do something he’d been expected to do. 
(Source: Jamil’s Ceremonial Robes SR Vignette)
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(Source: Jamil’s School Uniform R Vignette)
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Many occurrences have been more than enough proof of that, and those few moments wherein Kalim actually was reliable paled in comparison to these negative instances. As such, it has so happened that, to the surprise of no one, Jamil has made a habit out of taking responsibility after responsibility and sparing Kalim none of it----adding further onto his contempt towards him and Kalim’s own ignorance to Jamil’s difficulties.
(Source: Book 4, Chapter 37: The Magic Dispelled)
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This has something to do with how, generally speaking, Jamil has always viewed Kalim too negatively. His frustration isn’t unfounded, of course, but he’s closed off his mind to the prospect of Kalim ever becoming more than what he already made him out to be---when in fact, Kalim is more than willing to become someone Jamil can rely on.
So, there. Jamil’s perception of Kalim hasn’t been the best...and naturally, it won’t change immediately. These are years and years of grudges we’re talking about, after all. It even reaches to the extent that in Episode 5-34, Jamil tells Epel that, “If he himself is laughing, then it’s probably not that heavy” when the latter mentions that Kalim was laughing despite talking about a traumatizing topic and sharing about the reason why he strives to keep living.
Jamil seems to view Kalim precisely for the first thing he sees of him, and not for what possibly lies behind all of his cheer.
Regardless...
(Source: Book 5, Episode 5-9, Translation by Shel_Bb)
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There have been cracks in that perception of his. He’s beginning to see facets that he’d failed to consider...
(Source: Book 5, Episode 5-34, Translations by Shel_Bb)
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...facets of Kalim that he struggles to acknowledge...
(Source: Book 5, Episode 5-30, Translations by Shel_Bb)
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...and facets of Kalim that he will only continue to realize.
SCARABIA PRE-CHAPTER 6 (II)
This part will discuss Jamil and Kalim’s respective character development after Chapter 4! I’ll start with Kalim’s.
As depicted in the set of photos directly above this section, one of Kalim’s most prominent realizations is that “he has never achieved anything if it weren’t for Jamil.” For all these years, he never believed that anything should be rightfully his...but at the same time, it never crossed his mind that all the acclaim he’d received happened not because he earned it, but because of who he is.
This realization frustrated him, and this spurred into him doing his best to stand by Jamil as equals. Borrowing my own captioning in Kalim’s TV Tropes page: 
He becomes more considerate of others as the main story plods on, and he strives to exert more effort to make up for all the times he “achieved” something despite not deserving it. He is also more likely to take action when he notices something is wrong, thus resulting in his meddling with Vil’s attempt at Neige’s life, unlike before when it’s implied he knew about Jamil’s hardships but didn’t do anything about it until it was too late.
The Kalim that we all see post-Chapter 4 is the Kalim that does his best to be more than what he used to be. This is the version of him that’s trying to become more independent of Jamil, slowly but surely...and while this implies for Jamil’s workload to be lessened, this development turns out to stress out Jamil all the more, as he still can’t trust Kalim to do anything by himself. We’ll get to more on this later.
Jamil’s post-Chapter 4 character development consists of him stepping up for himself more. He no longer lets the social hierarchy stop him from showing his potential---but that fact alone isn’t enough to prove that the mindset he’d always held still doesn’t affect him. Jamil is still in the midst of breaking free from the way he’s been taught to behave...and a part of him still views Kalim as someone he can never overcome.
(Source: Book 5, Episode 5-24, Translations by Shel_Bb)
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Jamil is a rather contradictory character, as it is often that his wants and his actions differ from one another. For instance: he wants acknowledgment and acclaim, but shies away the moment someone begins to praise him. He says that he knows Kalim is no match for him if it weren’t for his parents, and yet he subconsciously doubts that the sort of charisma Kalim has over their dormmates is something he can’t easily replicate.
When Vil assigns him as one of their group’s lead singers during the Pomefiore arc, Jamil instinctively declines it at first, in favor of Kalim, before stopping himself and accepting it. The beliefs his parents taught him are ingrained in him that deeply, and just as he perceives Kalim as someone who is always above him, he can’t easily overcome this mindset of his, too... At least, not until Leona’s advice.
LEONA’S PERSPECTIVE AND ADVICE
Although the available translations currently haven’t touched on this, the last part of the main story update certainly introduced good development between these unlikely pairs of characters: Leona & Jamil, and Azul & Riddle. This part won’t be as specific as the other sections because I’m just writing this based on what I know, but I hope I still get my point across. Azul and Riddle will have their separate ramble, they’re giving me so much brainrot rn.
(Source: Jamil’s School Uniform R Vignette)
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Even before their interactions in Chapter 6, Jamil has always been wary of Leona, as the Savanaclaw Dorm Leader was one of the few students who could very easily see through the facade he consistently put up. 
This same dynamic applied to their alliance as partners in hunting down the Ice Phantom---with Jamil initially being hesitant over partnering up with him---except that in that current instance, Jamil seemed to be insistent on “protecting” Leona, much to the latter’s chagrin.
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Jamil believed that he had to prioritize Leona’s safety amid this situation because he is the secondborn prince of the Sunset Savannah. This “overprotectiveness” was something Leona found unnecessary, and he didn’t take it well whenever Jamil prioritized his life over his own self. He thought Jamil was making too much of a big deal out of this.
This resulted in many arguments and fights between the two, and...yeah, they fought so much I forgot the exact arrangement for what happened...but, at one point, Jamil winds up in an outburst of emotion, and he laments that no one would ever understand where he’s coming from, anyway. Leona begs to disagree.
Leona says that he gets the gist of Jamil’s situation. He also adds that he knows Jamil is better than he initially let on, and explains precisely what Kalim has that Jamil doesn’t.
“...Charisma?”
“No, he’s got money.”
That conversation above is non-verbatim, by the way, lol. 
But what Leona meant to say, as a whole, was that Kalim had money and knew how to use it. Jamil was understandably baffled by this...but on my part, it made me realize how different others’ perspective on Kalim’s actions could be.
As players, we all know Kalim does most of the things he does because he’s a genuinely good person. We have the privilege to get a look-see into their character stories, after all. But to people like Leona, they see it differently. 
The renovation at Scarabia, the banquet they held for Crowley, the banquet Kalim held at the cafeteria, Kalim donating his share on the prize money to Ramshackle Dorm... We know and believe that Kalim did this out of the good of his own heart, but Leona sees it as a strategic expense of money.
It betters Kalim’s reputation, it gives chances for establishing useful connections...and many more. Of course, that doesn’t mean those are actually the motives behind what he did. It’s just interesting how others perceive these actions of kindness as something far more strategic, and it really makes one think about how much thought is actually put into every single one of those  monetary decisions, rather than them just being bouts of spontaneity.
As Leona states further on, people like Kalim usually go for their instincts right from the get-go. It might seem foolish, at first, but the conviction Kalim gives in every decision he makes is what what makes up for that said "foolishness."
If he thinks something is useful, then he'll go for it.
If he thinks that saying this is the right thing to say to a certain person, then he'll say it.
If this plan doesn't work out, then he'll just think up something else and try again.
Be it because of years of exposure to his family's business, or the socializing skills he'd gained from hosting banquets and being a people person in general, or the innate kindness that just shines from within him, Kalim, while still unpolished, had always possessed the qualities one would search in a leader. On the other hand, Jamil had been so desperate for independence that he'd made a habit of dealing with things on his own, making him incredibly capable...but also alienating him from his peers. He'd become so used to dealing with things solo that he failed to discover that there's more to being a leader than just being capable: the ability to inspire, convince, and empathize with others, the ability to know when & how to adjust to different kinds of people you'd end up working with, and how to lead them. Jamil has none of that, and he realizes this once Leona calls him out on it.
I have a lot more to say, but the bottomline is that: In Leona’s eyes, Kalim is already making use of his favorable qualities---his charisma, his wealth, etc.---and he’s imploring Jamil to do the same. To find what he’s best at and invest in it, rather than wallow in his closed mindset that’s been ingrained in him since young.
And that’s good advice, made especially more credible with the fact that it came from Leona, someone who understands the complexity of the hierarchy and Jamil’s situation. Jamil is shown to be thankful for this, and he admits that he has viewed Kalim and everyone else to be better than him subconsciously; this led to him holding everyone in contempt, believing that he could do better than them if he just had a chance to show his potential, despite never taking the stand to showcase said potential, anyway. He aims to fix his mindset from now on. And afterwards, Leona... He whispers to himself that Jamil better do that. 
Because at the end of the day, he and Jamil are different, and with this, Jamil at least won’t end up like him.
SCARABIA DEVELOPMENT (After two years of waiting, we Scarabia stans have won...)
Okay.
Okay so.
The, uh, the glomp.
Kalim.. about to hire the best doctors to check upJamil..
And the.
“Really... I never thought the day would come that I’d feel relieved to see your face.”
AND JAMIL ASKING KALIM TO GET OFF OF HIM AND KALIM SAYING HE CAN’T BECAUSE HIS RELIEF OVER JAMIL BEING OKAY MADE HIS LEGS FEEL WEAK
AND HIM TATTLING ABOUT HOW JADE SAID SMTH ABOUT THEM POSSIBLY BEING DEAD AND HE LOOKED SO ANGY LIKE >:000000
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THIS IS SUPPOSED TO BE A DECENT ANALYSES POST BUT IM SORRY I AM NOT GOD’S STRONGEST SOLDIER I CANNOT I JUST CANNOT
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AHEM.
Anyway.
Later, Kalim offered to help Jamil cut a tart while they’re at Ramshackle. Jamil told him to just sit there because he’ll take care of it...but then he reconsidered it, and said that he can at least get everyone a dish and a fork.
Such a small act is already so indicative of the development we’ve longed for years to see...and I think it’s pretty self-explanatory at this point how important it is that Jamil is now willing to accept Kalim’s help. He's acknowledged that shouldering all the burden by himself won't do him any good, and that by opening himself up to others, he can be able to discover more chances to heighten his potential. It’s a small step. It’s such a small step, and yet it matters oh so much. They’re learning to have a healthier relationship, bit by bit :”)))
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geddy-leesbian · 4 days
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Can any part of life — be larger than life? Even love must be limited by time. And those who push us down that they might climb —
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mudstoneabyss · 1 year
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he is literally gods greatest gift to the mantit enjoyers
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ghost-proofbaby · 7 months
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which would y’all prefer
choose your fighter.
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*Taps mic* Hello folks, friendly neighborhood writer here with a small little update, because turns out that I underestimated myself for once in my life.
PSA: From Chapter 29 and Forward, The Publishing of QuintSum will take a break until I have finished the fic. It's a whole fucking thing to publish and edit consistently and I actually really don't like it that much. So y'all are getting the first 50k ish, and then y'all will have to wait. I'll let y'all know when it's being published again but until then, you'll have to wait until it's finished. (For the record, I'm more than 3/4 through, so it's not like I've given up, I just hate publishing as I go even more than I thought I did.)
(Chapter 28 and 29 will still be posted, given that ch.27 is the most recent one out right now, so you have two more chapters until I go MIA until this science experiment finishes.)
(And if you wonder why it's 29 specifically, it's because it's the end of the current arc, and I'm not going to waste this perfect opportunity to not end in the middle of a damn arc.)
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keeps-ache · 3 months
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my sibling just tripped and i said 'god bless you ?????' like they sneezed or something ??
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ramonag-if · 2 years
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Author respectfully you deserve to get your ass ate because Chapter 3 was so FUCKING GOOD!!
Um wow 😂 I wouldn't go so far as to getting my ass eaten, but I appreciate your support all the same. Thank you for playing and I'm so glad you enjoyed it 💖🥰
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melkstudio · 1 year
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Tomorrow, March 24th, is my birthday! I will be watching all the Shrek movies and hoping i don't get overwhelmed because of the amount of people there!
I also wanted to mention that I managed to finish what I'm calling 'visions' or 'memories' for this part of the haunt segment. Now I have to chase the characters out of this area and into the next so the solos can start.
The solos should be relatively easy to write. I'm not planning to change too much, except for the conversations that happen (maybe polish them or extend them) and the memories that play after (and even then I'm not changing much in those either, just making things clearer).
I would say that the chapter is about 70% done. I have been feeling a bit tired and depressed but that's nothing new. I just keep telling myself 'well, what else are you going to do?', so I keep writing.
Things will have to get better eventually.
Anyway, have a nice day/night everyone! I hope you have fun, stay hydrated and sleep enough!
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Chapters: 2/3 Fandom: Stranger Things (TV 2016) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson Characters: Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson, Robin Buckley, Nancy Wheeler, Corroded Coffin (Stranger Things) Additional Tags: Steve Harrington Has PTSD, Steve Harrington has sensory issues, Touch-Starved Steve Harrington, Needy Steve Harrington, Soft Dom Eddie Munson, Sub Steve Harrington, Also some good ronance stuff in Chapter 1, Praise Kink, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Eddie Munson Loves Steve Harrington, Light Dom/sub, Top Eddie Munson, Bottom Steve Harrington, The Fruity Four, they're best friends your honor, Robin Buckley & Steve Harrington Friendship, More Ronance in Chapter II, Steve Harrington Is a Mess, Good Wingman Robin Buckley Series: Part 8 of There Is a Light That Never Goes Out Summary:
“Almost all of my shirts have collars, Robin —” Steve says, trying his hardest not to growl at her.  
“Yeah, and all your shirts are douchey shirts,” Robin answers breezily, “which, if you didn’t buy all your clothes at Baby Gap —”
“Hey!” Steve says, grabbing one of the balled-up reject shirts in his fist and throwing it at her face. “These clothes are from the adult Gap, thank you.” 
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hobimo · 1 year
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Green on the Horizon chapter 3 preview
hello if u have missed my previous posts here i have finished chap 3 and im getting into chap 4 but im not pleased with them so i have decided to lock them up until may where i will reassess them once they have fermented enough and Developed Flavour and post them both for mermay.
Until then please keep reading to see the first scene of chapter 3 below! I’m pretty happy with it but when u see it next it might be tweaked a bit idk. thanks for your patience :)
The stories have always depicted dragons as benevolent gods. As wise. As merciful.
The sound of water breaking disturbs the crew and Seokjin so much that he flinches before the dragon’s huge tail slams down onto the deck directly in front of him. Seokjin feels the ship lurch and sink further into the water under the dragon’s weight. Easily as tall as him, the scales are so large and green and wet with water he can see his own terrified face reflected in them before they disappear into the huge white tuft of fur at the end, just like a lion’s tail.
Red spines peek out through the fur, long enough to impale Seokjin with one swipe.
When Seokjin dares look up at the beast, its vermillion eyes are narrow and cruel.
Its lips pull back as their gazes meet, vicious. Beyond the torrents of water falling from the dragon’s huge, serpentine body, the deck is completely silent. Seokjin feels cold the more he stares at the creature, frozen still as its red eyes bore into him. It’s so large it blocks out the afternoon sun behind it; an eclipse realised.
To show his sincerity, Seokjin had foregone even his usual rope knife. He is completely defenceless before the dragon, its maw big enough to bite him clean in two. From above them, the dragon growls something awful, so loud and intense it makes Seokjin’s bones tremble under his skin, the very air heavy like water as he grapples for a rope, just to stay on his feet. He can barely breathe through the weight of it, hitting his chest so hard he doesn’t even know if his heart can beat under the pressure.
Every painting, every sculpture, every story Seokjin has ever heard or seen, pales before the dragon before him. Does not capture the weight it carries, the sound of it, the predator’s gaze. For the rest of his life, all legends will be ruined for him, no tales of dragon mercy will ring true. This is a beast that wants Seokjin dead, and it is happy to wait for his sweat to wash away the stink of snake wine before it strikes.
One day when he dies, this dragon will peer down and watch which realm his soul goes to next with those same crimson eyes.
From the corner of his eye, Seokjin sees Jimin duck behind the main mast, tip-toeing to the bow of the ship.
Right. They had a plan. And Seokjin has to do his part.
The dragon pries one talon out of the wood, splinters flying, and then lowers it down one step further, the maw of razor-sharp teeth inching closer. Its neck is so long that even with its talons halfway down the mast, it can curl up like a cobra, looming over them. Just its neck alone must be the same length as the mast itself, thicker than it where it meets its chest, before thinning again, the rest of its snake body writhing as it adjusts its posture on the wooden beam.
“Dragon King!” Seokjin shouts, barely audible through the dragon’s growling. His voice sounds scratchy and raw, not clear like it should be, but he doesn’t dare stutter, not here. He will force the words out with his whole body if need be. The dragon’s growl intensifies in response, eyebrows twitching and furrowing, clearly displeased. It lowers its head inches further, the feathery edges of its whiskers almost touching the deck.
The killing intent is almost enough to make Seokjin’s legs give out, but he grips the rope until his knuckles turn white and clears his throat. He can’t give up now, not after everything he’s done. Not when they’re finally getting close to making the impossible a reality.
“I will not talk more than necessary,” Seokjin grits out, and the dragon’s red-scaled lips pull back further, all of its white teeth on show. “I want to borrow the power of your yeouiju.”
There’s a hitch in the growling, the dragon clearly surprised, and it opens its mouth. From between its fangs, it extends its tongue, pink and slick like a dog’s, suspending the pearl before him like a taunt. The jewel is huge, so large Seokjin would need both hands just to hold it, pearlescent and so full of magic Seokjin can feel it, like he has never felt magic before. A tangible presence, power so concentrated it could corrupt anyone with a touch. Seokjin’s hands itch to reach out and snatch it before the dragon can hide it away again, even though he knows better. The temptation digs under his skin like a parasite, urging him with a ferocity he didn’t know existed—take it. Take the pearl. Kill the dragon.
He drags his eyes away from the stone to the dragon’s red gaze above, and feels like choking on seawater. Those eyes are narrowed and waiting. Baiting him. Luring him right up to its teeth, like an anglerfish.
“Yes. I need its power just for one task,” Seokjin continues, and the dragon’s eyes narrow further, retracting its tongue and the yeouiju back into the safety of its mouth. “There is a ship that sails between the mainland and Tsushima island, manned by the ghosts of those murdered by their crews at sea. I want to revive someone, using your yeouiju.”
The dragon’s eyes widen, its surprise startlingly human, before they narrow even further, growling viciously again. It’s jaw opens an inch, enough to see the way its tongue and lips pull back, worse than any dog or tiger, wood creaking and ship swaying as its weight shifts, preparing to pounce on him.
It won’t. The smell of the wine hasn’t faded yet.
“I only need it for that one thing,” he continues. There is a shadow moving on the main mast, beside the dragon’s curled body, and Seokjin forces himself not to look. “I have no intention of stealing it from you. If you would be willing to lend me the jewel—”
The dragon snaps warningly, lurching out to bite through the air in front of Seokjin, so close the rush of air stings. The snap of its jaws is terrifying, so loud and close Seokjin is scared one of his own bones has snapped. The growl changes and sharpens with a hiss in the back of the beast’s throat, its white beard swaying as it shakes his head, licking its chops.
He misspoke, then.
“I have no intention to use the jewel for anything else,” Seokjin insists, the dragon growling so loud and close he can barely hear the words come out of his mouth. It’s approaching him, enraged even to the point of enduring the smell, it seems. “I swear on my life.”
For a fleeting moment, Seokjin lets his hopes mislead him. He almost thinks the dragon will be as benevolent as the legends claim, that it will be moved by his plea, or that perhaps it will use the jewel in its mouth to divine the truth in his words.
But like all else, the tales pale before the dragon.
The look in its eyes is so furious Seokjin expects it to begin swearing at him, to curse his bloodline for generations—but it does no such thing. Like an animal it climbs one step further down the mast, until the deck is within its reach, its neck coiled up to stay just far away from Seokjin that the wine’s smell doesn’t reach. And then it growls lowly, before jerking its head away from him. The meaning is clear, even to Seokjin: his life is worthless.
And then it begins to rain. The dragon watches him, eyes wide and perfectly still, as the rain begins as nothing but a few timid drops and develops into a downpour within an instant, the harsh sunlight fading and replaced by gloom. The blinding reflection of the sun on its scales is replaced by a buffeting wind that kicks up salt and spray onto the deck, whipping the white mane around the dragon’s head furiously.
“I ate the swallow purposefully to lure you here,” Seokjin bites out, his words lost to the wind but the dragon hears him just fine, roaring at him as wood splintering under one of its talons. Its tail whips away from him, slapping the water so hard spray hits the deck and stings Seokjin’s skin. “It was not my intention to offend you. We had no other option. The yeouiju is our only hope.”
When the dragon opens its mouth and hisses, it’s like staring down the gullet of a crocodile. The force of its breath is enough to sting his skin, and instead of smelling foul, it smells only like the harshest ocean wind.
“The fortune teller foresaw you would help us!” Seokjin snaps, desperation turning to frustration. The dragon recoils violently at this, rearing up so much so that even its front talons leave the wood, suspended only by its body wrapped around the beam. “So tell me, what must I offer for your jewel to be used this once?”
The dragon’s eyes blaze, and when it tenses up a little further, Seokjin knows it is going to pounce on him, ignoring the stench of wine and snapping him up. All of this for nothing. Summoning a god just for it to deny him, to cast him aside.
The shadow on the mast drops from where it had been holding onto the halyard, falling right beside the dragon and grabbing halfway down its green whisker. The dragon shrieks in pain as its head is wrenched down, and Jimin’s feet hit the deck with barely a sound. Seokjin watches with horror as the dragon’s red eye swivels to see who has grabbed it, before it roars and throws its head back.
It’s exactly what Jimin wanted, Seokjin realises. Jimin manages to kick his legs just enough that when the dragon hauls him back up in the air, Jimin swings right under its chin and can hook his heels in the battens of the sail, enough to drag himself right onto the top of the dragon’s head. Jimin’s snarl is so ferocious Seokjin can see the slash of white teeth even from here, as the man grabs one of the dragon’s antlers and uses that strength of his to pull the whisker tight enough that the dragon’s jaw is wound shut.
“Now!” Yoongi shouts, and men on either side of the deck pick up a coil of rope and throw it high, over the dragon’s neck and head. Together, the crew grasp the slick ropes, wet from the downpour, and winch them down. The dragon thrashes and struggles, roaring and hissing in the back of its throat, shaking its head violently to try and dislodge Jimin, who holds firm.
Its weakness is that dragons are benevolent. Seokjin hadn’t understood it, but as the dragon’s eyes frantically search around it for somewhere to flee, Seokjin sees the exact moment it realises it cannot escape without throwing the crew overboard, possibly killing them. That it’s trapped.
With one final heave, the men pull the ropes tight, and the dragon’s head pressed down into the deck. Jimin doesn’t move from the top of its head, wrapping the whisker around his arm like a rope. Its lower body writhes and struggles, trying to pull it free of the rope, but one of them has been secured behind its antlers and can’t move. Its tail slaps the water, swipes the side of the boat, those red spines nailed through the wood, but not even that can save it.
Jimin stands on the captured dragon like a demon, the wind whipping his black hanbok around him, eyes feral. “I told you I could do it,” Jimin says, grinning despite how heavily he’s breathing. All the muscles in his arm jump as he adjusts his grip on the antler, knuckles white. “Go on then, Siren Captain. Make your demands.”
The dragon growls as Seokjin approaches, no less threatening even now that it is restrained. Its snarls as best it can with his jaw wrapped shut, its eye furious and human where it glares back at Seokjin. It throws itself against the bindings, trying to at least hit Seokjin, but Jimin yanks on the whisker so it can’t budge.
“You’re trapped, Your Majesty,” Jimin taunts it, his voice cutting through the ringing in Seokjin’s ears. “Better to give in and listen.”
The dragon growls, struggling again, but its head doesn’t move. Tentatively Seokjin approaches, placing one foot down after the other until he is close enough to speak directly into that red eye.
“Forgive me,” he whispers, low enough that Jimin hopefully will not hear. The dragon’s eye rolls from Seokjin, up to try and see Jimin perched on its head, and finally all the fight leaves it. Its huge eye closes, and the rain stops immediately, the wind abating, the clouds immediately beginning to fade.
“Dragon King,” Seokjin says again, even more daunted by the silence than the lashing rain. His voice comes out far quieter, and the dragon barely blinks open its eye to look at him. “I need the power of your yeouiju for a task. I simply need you to allow us to use your jewel just once. If you can agree to that, we will release you.”
The dragon simply looks at him for what feels like an age, the intensity of its eye never lessening, until it makes a small noise and sighs, eye closing again. Seokjin hopes he is right to interpret it as acceptance. He will have to take the risk, gesturing for the men to release the ropes.
Park Jimin does not.
The air floods with heat, energy so intense and otherworldly that Seokjin stumbles away. Before their eyes the dragon begins to shrink, its tail evaporating where it pierces the side rail of the ship, its twisted torso around the mast disappearing into salt spray. The ship springs out of the water as the dragon’s weight sinking it disappears, and its head shrinks and warps into the shape of a human.
Jimin does not release the dragon even as it becomes a man pressed onto the ground beneath him, Jimin’s hand fisted in his head of white hair.
“Park Jimin,” the dragon-man hisses, hair fading from blinding white to the shiny black of a young man, the last part of his transformation. His hands come up to grab at Jimin’s arms behind him, fingers digging in. “You—”
“Accept the deal,” Jimin snaps, yanking on his hair. The dragon’s answering snarl is as powerful in the air as it has been when he was a hundred times the size he is now. Jimin isn’t fazed, pulling roughly on his hair again as he yells, “accept it!”
“I accept!” The dragon yells, yielding, his eyes finding Seokjin’s where Jimin keeps his face pressed to the deck. “Now release me!”
Jimin drops his hair unceremoniously, picking his feet up and stepping away from the prone man. Yoongi lingers at Seokjin’s side, staring in wonder and horror as the dragon pushes himself up, his free hair spilling over his shoulders, naked and human, betrayed only by the vibrant vermillion of his eyes.
“Fetch him clothes,” Seokjin orders, his voice shrill even to his own ears. When the dragon stands, roughly grabbing at Jimin for support, Seokjin is startled by how tall he is. Perhaps not quite his height—he must be the same height as Seokjin, not even as tall as Namjoon—but rather how small Jimin looks beside him, almost a head shorter, and yet the dragon moves away from him as soon as he’s steady on his feet, as if it pains him to be close.
The dragon king is as striking as a man as he was as a dragon, his face easily belonging in a mural rather than on a live person.
“What shall they call you?” Jimin asks, and Seokjin itches to hit him at the mocking tone he uses. Even at this distance between Seokjin and the dragon, an easy six paces, the air thrums around him with dangerous power.
“You push your luck, Park Jimin,” the dragon snaps. He turns to Seokjin with a grimace, vitriol in his eyes as he inclines his head. “You may call me Taehyung, Kim Seokjin. Siren Captain of the Southern seas.”
“And crew,” Jimin jabs. When Taehyung snarls at him, his teeth are fanged and sharp.
“And crew,” Taehyung bites out. Jimin grins at him, apparently unbothered by the dragon’s anger.
“I will remain with you until the moment you require the jewel,” Taehyung explains. “I cannot leave it in your care. I will not lift a finger to help or protect you or your crew. You should have made me agree to that while you had the chance. Be warned, Kim Seokjin—everything you barter for in this life, I will personally ensure you are robbed of it in the next.”
The threat from a dragon puts salt in Seokjin’s bones, but he sets his jaw. He was never naïve enough to expect he could pull this off unscathed.
“So be it.”
Jimin snatches the clothes the crew bring out, and throws the outer layer of the hanbok over Taehyung’s shoulders, leaving him to dress himself. Seokjin is almost embarrassed at the shabby clothing they offer the dragon king, averting his eyes. He can see Yoongi keeps watching him, expression unreadable, hand tight around the hilt of his sword to hide how his whole arm shakes.
Namjoon hovers near the poop deck, unsure whether to approach, so Seokjin gives up and waves him over. Namjoon is strong, physically and in spirit, but he lacks the disposition that makes a truly strong fighter—the cruelty. He is too kind, too gentle, and it makes him too scared. No matter how these three years after Jungkook’s death have affected him, Namjoon was never prepared to kill a dragon, if it came down to it. He shuffles behind Seokjin like an anxious puppy, enraptured by the presence of the dragon.
“It’s good we didn’t die,” Namjoon mutters, and the bark of laughter that comes out of Seokjin shocks even himself.
“Yes,” Seokjin agrees, dragging his eyes back to Jimin and the dragon, who has tied the hanbok around his waist. A dragon, on board Seokjin’s stolen vessel. All to use its power to bring Jungkook back to life. He can only hope that the dragon vowing not to protect them means he won’t also harm them, too tired for much else.
Dragon trapping. Another one of Park Jimin’s frightening abilities.
Yoongi’s warning to stay on his good side echoes in Seokjin’s mind. At least for now he finds Seokjin entertaining enough to stay on board, to offer his help. They are almost done.
“Now we only have to find the ship itself,” Seokjin reminds both Yoongi and Namjoon, and it feels like years since he has seen them smile so sincerely. It probably has been.
“We truly did it,” Yoongi mutters. “It feels like a dream. Jungkook will come home.”
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butter--peanut · 1 year
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Day 2 of my nano* 2k daily word goal done and I’m already feeling mentally ill for my characters. OC creators, I now viscerally understand your pain
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distortedclouds · 1 year
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First of the Left Behind /filler BW chapter Set: between the end of ch 13 and beginning of ch 15 Rating: T Word count: 2k PoV: Armin Tags: Fluff
Technically, it hasn’t been long since the two of them happened to have the same full day off, though it ends up feeling like it. It could be because they got to stay in bed a bit longer, not having to count the minutes between ‘barely on time’ and ‘run or be late’.
Maybe it’s the brightness that pours in through the windows. It’s rare for the sun to shine this brightly at this time of year on Paradis. It has been like that for a couple of days now, effectively drying up most of the moisture in the soil and developing little cracks in dirt roads.
Of course, this is a sign they’re in for a snowstorm that’ll make it hard to open doors. Armin used to love being the one tasked with jumping out the window and shoveling away snow to make room for the main door to open when he was a kid. Though that only happened two—perhaps three—times before things changed.
But he can’t complain with what he has now. Armin can’t remember the last time he didn’t have to constantly check the clock or dig through his pocket for a watch. Even Annie seems lighter on her feet, especially compared to the past couple of days, when he couldn’t quite pinpoint what was up with her and her lips were as good as sealed even if he were to ask.
Today, the sun had been a good way up the sky when they finally got out of bed and had breakfast. Noon, by the time they finally got off the couch and changed into warmer clothes that didn't require them to stretch a throw blanket over their laps to stay warm.
Still, no matter how much of a good day it is, Armin starts feeling the usual drowsiness that usually washes over him around noon. Onyankopon sure wasn’t exaggerating when he said coffee to be a double-edged sword that’s more likely to cut than a poorly-handled butcher's knife.
“Do you want something to drink,” Armin calls from the kitchen, holding up the kettle for Annie to see where she’s lacing up her shoes by the backdoor.
“Yeah, sure,” Annie says, and her voice hasn’t been this unrestrained and airy as of recently, he wishes for it to last.
Armin fills up the kettle to a scratch on the inside he’s come to find is an excellent estimation for filling two cups. He then closes the lid and places it on the stovetop before reaching for the matches in one of the many drawers.
The door reopens and Annie peeks in, less than ten seconds after she’d exited. “The weather’s nice out, come join?”
It doesn’t take much persuasion. In fact, no afterthought is needed before Armin joins her, finding that he doesn’t need more than the jacket he grabs on his way out.
Outside, it’s almost too bright that he has to squint his eyes all the way shut. If it weren’t for the warmth, he’d think a thick snow cover was responsible for this amount of light reflecting straight into his eyes.
The ground is mostly dry, even the tiniest bit of breeze could pick up dust for it to settle elsewhere. At least he can walk without being stuck in the mud or sinking to his knee into the snow. Wild birds, too, seem to appreciate this short break from freezing winds and neverending downpours.
He watches as Annie takes a couple of steps away and into the sun, stretching her arms up and to one side. While he doesn’t hear it, per se, he can see the moment something cracks uncomfortably in her back. She then lets her arms drop with a low sigh.
“I’m blaming you, you know,” Annie says, turning to face him. She continues stretching her arms and upper back, taking one arm over the opposite elbow before reversing direction. “I shouldn't've let you convince me to stay in all morning.”
“Hey, you were enjoying it, too.” He joins in her cracking the bones in his back, neck, and shoulders, though months of office work has stiffened everything up beyond comfort. He never thought he’d miss the days of the military, but damn did they keep him nimble.
“Wanna spar?”
“Me?”
“Mikasa hasn’t been around for a couple of days now and I’m feeling a little stiff. Besides, you could use some resharpening.”
“I’m not sure I can live up to the level you’re used to,” he says as Annie moves to stand opposite him, Armin widening his stance in response.
“It’ll be fun, nonetheless.” Her feet drift further apart and she raises her forearms to shield the view of her face, waiting for him to do the same—or the version he was taught during training.
It doesn’t surprise him that Annie’s too fast to see; one moment she’s standing a few feet from him, and the next, she’s landing a softened blow to his shoulder with the back of her hand. It’s enough to destabilize him, but he’s not gonna fall just yet. Not from something like that.
Twisting at his ankle, the ball of one foot digs into the ground and steadies him, providing him enough momentum to shield for her next blow. That works, this time he barely feels it when her fist slams into his forearm instead of his chest or collarbone.
The exchange of blows continues for a while longer. Logically, Armin knows if this had been a real fight he would’ve been flat on his back seconds into the first contact, but with Annie pulling back her kicks and punches, and moving at a speed she could muster half-asleep, he can keep up. Somewhat.
Hand-to-hand combat has never been his favorite subject, neither as a trainee nor before that when Hannes took to the side and tried to teach him some self-defense for his own sake. It’s hard to deny the exhilaration of a duel, especially when there’s very little at stake.
Armin could swear even his eyes have gotten bad from staring at nothing but handwritten—or printed if he’s lucky—reports all day. Switching to tracking fast movements that his body has to follow along is energizing.
Even Annie, though she’s far from her limit, she’s still moving; her breathing has picked up, hair tousled, and some redness has started to creep up under the skin of her face. Feeling like he’d gotten well into the rhythm of it, Armin decides to take her up on one of the windows she’s deliberately been leaving open for him, and he strikes a blow. The first half of it, at least.
It’s one Mikasa had taught him long ago for if he’s ever grabbed: threading his arm under Annie's, right behind her elbow and he twists, dropping as much of his body weight as possible back to dislodge her grip on his shoulder in preparation for the actual maneuver. He seems to have taken Annie off guard, for her eyes widen a bit, eyebrows shooting up as she hums to herself, “not bad.”
Armin doesn’t get to bask in the compliment nor pride that would’ve come with completing just one countermove against Annie’s frighteningly calculated attacks. Before he could make the switch, she takes full advantage of his off-kilter center of mass; kicking his feet from under him and straining his arm in the process.
How the fall straight on his back ends up only knocking the breath out of him without being accompanied by pain in his spine is beyond him. Thankfully, Annie doesn’t bother with restraining him or twisting a shoulder to drive the point that he lost. Instead, she settles for sitting with her weight fully on his hips and slightly hunched forward, a good enough sign that it’s over.
Armin’s glad he’s not the only one having to catch his breath, lungs struggling to pull in enough air, and throat burning with overexposure to cool ambiance. Annie, too, is breathing from her mouth, even if her inhales and exhales are noticeably more composed. Only the bottom half of her face is visible where her hair is tossed all over her features.
Just above her smile, the redness of her cheeks is apparent, and down her jaw and neck; clothes considerably heavier than what she’d normally wear for an exercise of this type.
When Annie straightens her back and pushes her hair up and out of her face, she relaxes her whole body with a long and loud sigh. The slight tension between her brows that was present throughout their exchange no longer in sight, leaving behind a lightness to her face that further accentuates the blue of her eyes with them softly opened.
What he wouldn’t give to see any be like this more often. Completely present with and in her whole self. Where she lacks hesitation, sure of her every move simply because it feels right.
“You can’t tell me this wasn’t energizing?” Annie says, amused, her voice airy and carried on the tail of a small laugh that he feels when it puffs out of her chest.
“Yea…” he breathes out, giving up and letting his back relax fully against the dirt. His eyes follow suit, falling to where he’s now aware she’s not wearing her usual binding, which somewhat flattens her chest for, what he assumes is, ease of movement. Though this time her clothes stick to her figure and it’s almost sudden how the heat overtakes him. It shouldn't. It makes sense. It’s a warmer day, the sun is out, they’re being active, and Annie’s unbelievably warm where she-
“Aaah!” With core strength he didn’t know he still had in him, Armin pushes himself up and off the ground. Hands gripping Annie at the ribs, he takes her along until she’s leaning back against his legs, where they’re bent at the knees.
It’s all in an attempt to just barely enough get her off his hips, and when her surprise is exclusive to his sudden movement he knows he’d succeeded, because if Armin managed to never be caught dead with humiliatingly tight pants at fourteen in the middle of training, he sure as hell wasn't gonna be caught as an adult.
Annie doesn’t say anything, her hands on his shoulders to steady herself in this awkward position as her eyes shift between his, waiting for him to sound an explanation.
It’s a long moment afterward with Armin’s mouth open but no words coming out and a face so red he’s surprised she still thinks it’s from the direct sun exposure and physical activity. “The- the hot water’s probably ready! It's not safe to let it boil unattended on the stove!”
“I don’t hear the whistle,” Annie says, glancing over his shoulder and towards the backdoor they’d left ajar.
“I… um, might’ve broken it last time I cleaned it.” He feels sweat at the back of his neck more now than before, even swallowing his hard.
“... okay.” Annie swings one leg over and between them to get off his lap. Armin’s quick to get on his haunches and up behind her as they head back inside, keeping both hands on her shoulders in a last effort to make sure she doesn’t turn around.
“Something hot to drink and unwind after this sounds nice, doesn't it?” Armin suggests in an almost singsong voice and he might’ve been overdoing it from the way she glances over her shoulder at him.
Inside with the door closed behind them, Annie heads into the kitchen while Armin takes cover behind the dining table, looking around the house like he’s seeing it for the very first time and impressed with the smallest of the most mundane detail.
“It's not even on.”
“Huh?”
“The flame,” she says, picking up the kettle and holding it up to show him with her bare hands. “It wasn’t burning.”
“Funny, I would’ve sworn I lit it before following you out,” Armin laughs awkwardly. Though, he's pretty sure he did light the fire.
“That’s unlike you,” she says. Thankfully, not caring to look any further into it as she grabs the box of fetches and starts a small flame under the kettle.
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dragon-familiar · 1 year
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Expect the last chapter of "man's best friend falls in love" to be posted later this week!
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how is it only wednesday!!!!
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homoeroticvillain · 2 years
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vtsom x ace attorney chapter 2
finally posted this bad boy to ao3, its actually the most self indulgent thing i've written. chapter 3 will be posted tmrrw
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Note
So back when you were first working on next gen, I was one of the ones simping over Auden/Saoirse, which I don't regret... But DAMN how was I sleeping on Soren/Mei?!
They didn't have much to work with back then.
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