#we need more wholesome pale king | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lune-hime · 3 years

Text

Garden of Tulips (Levi/Reader) Chapter 2

~Click me for more chapters~

“What did it look like?” “Hmm?” Levi looked up from his place next to your sleeping form. “The titan that tried to snack on my darling granddaughter.” “Ugly as fuck.” “Aren’t they all?”

Levi recounts memories of the reader and their shared life together while she recovers from a serious injury.

!!WARNINGS!! - Violence, gore, smut, wholesome content ;)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tulipa Princess Irene ~ An eye-catching tulip whose unique lavender markings on apricot petals make it unforgettable to any who gaze upon it.

↞↠↞↠↞↠

With one last glimpse in your direction, Levi followed your grandmother out of the room. Just as he was about to ascend the stairwell he was met with a gasp. Your grandmother was hunched over the railing, eyeing a suspicious piece of material.

“Is that a piece of titan skin on my mahogany railing?” She shrieked in horror, craning her neck to look at Levi who stood bewildered at the top of the stairs.

“And you got my floor all bloody.” She complained shaking her head. “Honestly, I didn’t think you would have the audacity to leave your disgusting boots on while walking through a lady’s house.”

Levi stared at her in disbelief. Is she fucking serious? Y/N was just bleeding out and she’s worried about her damned floors being dirty?

His glare remained cold and unwavering but he felt anger swell in his chest. He dug his nails into the wood of the railing and his pupils dilated. Before he had time to do anything, however, she suddenly burst out in a hearty cackle.

“Hah, gotcha. Don’t get your panties in a twist, shorty, I’m just teasing you. That was a test and you passed. Good to know you care about her health more than cleanliness. You can help me clean it up later, we are going to be spending a lot of time together after all.” Then she waddled down the stairs without sparing a single glance back. Levi was dumbfounded. He felt like he was going to have a heart attack from the combination of the lingering shock of the expedition and all the palpitations your grandmother was giving him. No amount of formal training, combat or political, could have ever prepared him to deal with this woman.

He followed behind as she scuttled through the archway to the right of the foyer. This room was the kitchen. It was open just like the rest of the house; windows decorated with cream doilies framed by dark paneled walls and a large island counter with stools in the center. The style of decor was modest but the layout screamed extravagance just like the previous rooms. Every space he entered he couldn’t help but gawk at its contents, it was far nicer than any place he had ever called home. He felt so out of place; like a poorman who had just walked into the prince’s quarters. This uncomfortable feeling kept him standing in the entrance; hand nursing his torn shoulder as another streak of red hot pain traveled up his back.

“Why are you standing there all hunched over like that? Are you sulky because you don’t get to get stitched up in a king size bed with pillows sewn with love and a cutie little nightgown? This kitchen isn’t as luxurious but I promise I’ll get the job done just the same; so get in here.”

He reluctantly entered the room and scooted into one of the stools, the metal bottoms scraping against the timbered floors as he took a seat. He rested his head on one hand while the other massaged his shoulder.

“Haven’t spent proper time with my granddaughter since walls know when and this is hardly the reunion I was imagining." Your grandmother muttered as she lit the gas burner on the iron stove. Levi watched the tiny blue flames dance into existence before settling into a warm orange.

“How long do you think she’s-” He attempted to ask, the tone of his voice rising significantly before it cracked.

“Going to be asleep?” He croaked. “By Ymir, are you going through puberty again?” She snorted and Levi’s features became icy.

“You like tea don’t you?” Levi nodded slowly. She didn’t look at him to check his response as she stood on her tiptoes to grab a glass from a higher shelf and the kettle from the side of the stove.

“Of course you do. My girl goes on and on about how it’s your life force.” She filled the kettle up with water before placing it on the burner, the stray droplets sizzling when they came in contact with the open flame.

“I’ll make you some tea with ginger root, that should help your sore throat. But for now drink some water, you sound like you’ve been huffing cannon smoke.” She filled the small glass with water and handed it to him. He gratefully accepted it and hummed in satisfaction when the cool liquid soothed the fissures in his throat.

“And to answer your question; I don’t have a damned clue. That gash on her side is beyond nasty. Her body is going to need a lot of rest to recover from all the shock, trauma, and blood loss she’s undergone.” Your grandmother placed a smaller kettle on the counter.

Levi watched as she sifted through her tea cabinet, swearing under her breath when she couldn’t find what she was looking for. For someone who was in the later years of their life she had remarkable posture. She carried herself with a confidence that retained her youth. She dressed simply, donning a long sleeved dress of a muted navy color, but aspects of her clothing reflected her wealth. Her shawl looked as if it was made out of cashmere; a commodity that not many people outside of Wall Sina had access to. She looked nothing like you, and her personality was sure as hell different. Her long silver locks were braided and wrapped into a neat bun at the top of her head. Her features were chiseled; a high brow ridge and straight nose were supported by a strong jawline. The only physical similarity you shared was your eyes. They shared the same structure, although yours were a little more almond shaped, and sparkled with the same excitement.

“Take off your shirt. Your boots, too, while you’re at it.” She commanded out of the blue, dipping a needle into a bottle of alcohol once and shaking it.

Levi was reluctant to undress, even though he knew he had to eventually. He never had any problem disrobing for the corps’ medical staff, unless it was Hange; he only let her near him if she didn’t have scissors in hand. That was story for another time. But this was your grandmother. It feltweird .

Levi hesitated at her request. She pursed her lips when she got no response.

“Relax, you’re not my type. Too short and toned. I like my men lanky-” She looked him directly in the eyes while she snipped the surgical thread.

“-so I’m able to snap them in two.”

This woman was truly an enigma. Levi’s mind couldn’t process how she could switch from sweet to salty within moments. He found himself more at a loss for words in these last few hours than he had been in his entire life. And he’s not a man of many words.

Y/N please wake up quickly . He pleaded in his mind as he unbuttoned his shirt.

He then shrugged it from his shoulders, hissing when the fabric scraped against his wound. Your grandmother came to his side and examined his exposed back. The gash stood out against his pale skin, the area surrounding it dappled with light bruising. She pressed a cold fingertips to the area, goosebumps freckling his skin in response.

“One of those big nasties barely grazed ya, if your position had been a couple centimeters to the right you probably wouldn’t have a spinal cord.” She mused, threading the needle through the surgical thread. What lovely images your grandmother painted with her words.

She dabbed a washcloth in the alcohol and began ridding Levi’s gash of the dirt and dried blood. His features contorted when the stinging liquid met his skin. Her cleaning was abruptly halted with the shrill scream of the kettle filled the room.

“Oh! The tea is finished.” She squealed, leaving her place at Levi’s side to take it off the burner. She then appeared before him and pushed the mug into his empty hands. The hot spice of the liquid hurt his chapped lips as he drank. But damn did it feel good. His whole body was blanketed in a serene numbing.

“Alrighty-you want the belt? You shouldn’t need it, though, it's not that deep.” She offered. Levi shook his head and took another sip of the tea.

“Okay, ready shorty?” She asked, pressing her hands to his back.

“Yeah.” He replied breathily, relaxing his muscles in preparation. Then Levi felt a pinch, followed by a tug, and then a dull burning as she weaved the needle in and out of his skin.

“So is my tea up to par with what you drink back at headquarters?” She spoke up after a moment.

“It’s good.”

“Just good?” She huffed and gave him a ginger slap on the shoulder.

I’m glad Y/N didn’t inherit her personality. She’s too fucking much to deal with.

“Hmm what was that?” She pulled the needle just a little too hard for Levi’s liking. He gasped and sucked a breath inward.

“I didn’t say anything.” He winced, gritting his teeth as she entered a particularly tender area.

“Now you’re starting to sound normal. You have a sexy voice, I see why Y/N likes you.” She cackled into his ear. Levi faltered and coughed, tea burning his throat as it entered the wrong airway. She took so much enjoyment in tormenting him and all this relentless teasing was going to push him past his breaking point.

“Why don’t you tell me a story to pass the time? Although your wound isn’t deep, it’s going to take me a little while to get it all cleaned up.”

“I don’t know any stories.” He responded blandly.

“I didn’t mean tell me a bedtime story. I wanna know about you and Y/N. That way I can get to know the person who is courting my granddaughter.”

She let the request sink in before speaking again.

“How did the two of you meet?”

“Officially?”

She hummed in agreement.

“She was delivering paperwork for me and she knocked over a box of my tea.” Levi explained, a small smile dancing across his lips. Your grandmother let out an artificial gasp and Levi clicked his tongue.

“Clumsy girl.” She chuckled, pulling the thread taut.

↞♞♘↠

Stop being nervous, Y/N, you’re just dropping off some papers and then you can leave right after. Your hands on the stack of parchment felt clammy and you picked the edges of the paper uneasily with your fingers.

Confident and assertive. That’s what your grandmother told you to be before you enlisted in the corps. However you found it difficult to live up to these words as the recipient of these important documents scared the absolute living hell out of you. You had had minimal interactions with him, and all of them unpleasant. It didn't help either that the horror stories you had heard from other cadets made your skin crawl. Surely he couldn’t be that bad though, right? After all, your cousin was constantly in his presence and they weren’t scared of him.

As long as you look like you can kick someone’s ass, you can. You repeated another one of your grandmother’s mantras in your head as you knocked on the large wooden door with a firm hand.

Nothing.

You knocked again, this time slightly louder, and abruptly drew into yourself as you awaited a response. Nothing.

Maybe he’s out? You thought, contemplating coming back later. You waved the idea off, however, as your squad leader had told you to meet them back at the training grounds immediately after you dropped the papers off. And they intimidated you too, although not to the extent of the Captain. You began to get jittery as you tried to think of the best thing to do.

Maybe the door is unlocked? I’ll just sneak in, drop the papers on his desk and run out. If he blames someone for breaking into his office he can blame Squad Leader. The plan seemed foolproof in your mind.

Wrapping your hand around the door knob you hesitantly turned it clockwise. A crisp click broke the tense silence, signaling that the door was indeed unlocked. To your delight you pushed it forward cautiously, the wood creaking painfully loud as you did so.

Before entering the vacant quarters you poked your head in and scanned any visible inch for tiny officer before calling out. Yet again you were met with silence. You swiftly padded to his desk and stacked the parchment neatly in the middle, taking caution not to knock over the inkwell or misplace any other of the contents of the table. Fighting against your conscience, you found it irresistible not to to look at the contents of the office. You were already in here, and if the universe was on your side, would never have to come back here again. Despite your fear for the man, you harbored an immense curiosity for him. Everything about him was shrouded in mystery; from his childhood to his enlistment to even just his favorite book. So, while you were here why not just have a quick look and then be gone?

Only the main room, though. You thought, gaze falling on the door to his private quarters. If he found you in there you would surely be skinned alive.

Your eyes floated from the bare and spotless walls to the velvety fuchsia victorian couch, to the brick fireplace, and finally to a small distinctive box on what you presumed to be his tea cabinet. You gasped in surprise, stepping closer to get a better view. It sat right next to a beautifully painted porcelain teapot among other boxes of tea in his collection. The tin was very familiar to you; your grandmother’s favorite tea. The box depicted a beautifully intricate war ship, its sails open to the wind and bow wet with the crashing waves. It was like laying eyes on an old childhood friend and you couldn’t help but smile.

“Oi Cad-” A low voice broke the stillness of the room, causing you to squeak and slap the box of tea right off the shelf. It’s top fell off with a pop and the ground tea leaves scattered across the floor. You stood there, mouth agape, frozen in fear. Maybe if you didn’t move you could dissolve through the floorboards and fade into another dimension.

“What. The. Fuck ?” He seethed, though his composure and expression remained devoid of emotion. His words made you shiver and you shakily straightened up.

“I-Captain I’m so, so so sorry. I came to deliver these documents because Squad Leader said that they were very important so it felt weird holding onto them for such a long time and then I saw this tea that I used to drink as a child and I swear I wasn’t trying to take it and then you startled me-”

“Just-stop.” The Captain held one arm out while the other rubbed his forehead in frustration. He looked like he was trying to collect himself. You sucked in a breath and awaited for your imminent death. Although it didn’t come as swiftly as you had presumed, and in a last ditch effort to redeem yourself in whatever way you could you spoke up.

“Let me clean it up, please!” You pleaded, your hands clasped together in front of you.

The Captain removed his hand to look at you and nodded his head in approval. When you made eye contact it felt like your soul was about to climb out of your body. You exhaled the breath you had been holding and picked up the tin and neatly placed it back on the shelf. Meanwhile, the captain had fetched a broom and a dustpan from the closet. You gratefully took them.

As you started to sweep the pellets of tea into a pile the captain took a seat at his desk, sinking into the chair with a tired exhale. He grabbed the top document and read it over, still expressionless. He mumbled fucking request forms when you swept the last pebble of tea into the dustpan. Rising, you moved to the corner of the desk to dispose of them in the trash can.

“Um, these go in there?” You asked, pointing towards the closet and the captain grunted in affirmation. It looked like he had gotten over his initial anger which eased your beating heart.

“Why were you touching my tea in the first place? Trying to steal it, Cadet?” His sudden comment caught you off guard, the dustpan fumbling in your fingers.

“N-No not at all! I was just admiring, I swear. It’s my grandmother’s favorite I just wanted to take a closer look…” You trailed off as you placed it neatly in the closet, shutting the door. He looked at you, his features set in stone so you couldn’t gage his reaction. You wondered how he would look with emotions. You weren’t going to stick around to find out.

His brows were so furrowed that they almost met his metallic eyes. His intensity made your intestines twist around each other.

"I-if you need me to I promise I can report for extra cleaning duty if my squad lea-"

"I know who you are. That won't be necessary." He interjected. You felt like a cow being sized up by its butcher.

"You...you do?" You asked tentatively. The moment the words left your mouth you felt like an utter dunce for questioning him. You hoped it was from your familial connection rather than your training slip ups.

The captain nodded once.

"You started working with Hange recently." He stated, his tone running along a flat plateau.

“Yes sir. I am from the 104th class, so technically I’m still in training. But I started apprenticing with Squad Leader last week.” You had gone into training with your childhood friend, but had graduated more quickly than others in your training group because of your extensive knowledge of life systems and quick mastering of combat training. What still held you back, though, was maneuvering the 3DMG gear. You just didn't understand how someone was supposed to stay in the air for longer than five seconds. So, in that aspect you still had a lot more training to complete. But when Hange caught wind of you she practically captured you and took you in as her apprentice.

“So you’re the brat the two of them been going on and on about?” His quizzical behavior set you on edge. One wrong answer and you would be sent to the slaughterhouse.

“Y-yes I guess. Before enlisting I was training with a biologist.” He made that grunting noise again and nodded once more. He really was a man of little words.

“Well sir, if you don’t need me for anything else I’ll be taking my leave. I’m sorry again I spilled your tea.” He didn’t say anything, just nodded again.

“I promise I’ll make it up to you!” You proclaimed, forming the best salute you could muster and turning to exit the premises.

‘Cadet Y/N.” He called, stopping you before you could depart. The hairs on the back of your neck as he proved he had knowledge of your name.

“Yes sir?” You stood awkwardly and awaited his response.

"Don't come snooping in my office again." He ordered sternly before shooing you gently with his hand.

↞♞♘↠

“So she was scared of you at first? Hah, what a softy. I see why though, the first thing you said to her included the word fuck. Not exactly smooth or inviting.” Your grandmother's words were harsh but they held a tone of endearment to them.

“Alrighty that lil’ scratch is all closed up now!” She declared proudly, leaning back and admiring her handy work. Levi stretched his back and ran his shoulder in circles to get some movement back into his stiff joints.

“Thank you.”

She smiled softly, the wrinkles under her eyes crinkling. She then turned her attention to the stove to begin preparing dinner. As Levi continued to stretch, a sudden, pressing problem he forgotten about popped into his mind.

‘Ah!” Levi gasped in recollection.

“‘Ah!’ what?” She mocked his surprised comment, not taking her gaze away from chopping onions.

“The horse.” He said frazzled with his gaze fixed on the front door. He shot up, ignoring the screaming protests by his shoulder, and was about to grasp the brass doorknob before your grandmother cleared her throat.

“A little eager aren’t we, Mr. Shirtless? You planning on flashing my neighbors?” She chimed throwing him his shirt with a playful smirk. Levi felt heat on his cheeks and averted her gaze.

“The stable is out back behind the shed.” She yelled from the kitchen as Levi slipped on his boots with haste. Buttoning the dirtied fabric he didn’t bother to tuck it into his trousers as he padded down the stairs to search the property for your horse. With the day coming to an end the landscape before him looked like something out of a postcard; birds fluttering about returning to their nests, the evening sunlight breathing warmth onto the flower fields. He would have never expected a place so idyllic existed within Wall Rose. He envisioned settling down with you at a place like this once this hell was over.

As expected, your horse wasn’t in the place you had left him. Levi puffed his cheeks and lazily looked around for the shed. He vouched to start from the left side of the house. He rotated his shoulder blades, feeling the tightness of the stitches and cracked in his neck. When he reached the side of the house the shed your grandmother had been talking about came into view. It looked more like a house than a shed to Levi as it was even bigger than most houses in the underground. A glorified shed indeed; freshly painted, nothing hanging off the sides and no equipment haphazardly strewn around the base.

“Alright you little shit where are you?”

Walking aimlessly around the shed proved fruitful, as peeking out from one side of the grand structure was movement. Approaching carefully he rounded the corner of the building to find what he was looking for. Your horse stood with his back towards him but sluggishly looked his way upon sensing his presence.

He looked awful. Dried blood caked of his cobalt coat and scratches littered his body, exposing the surface of his skin. His muscular neck hung low and he was favoring one of his back legs, hoof resting just above the ground. Levi felt bad for him.

“Damn you look fucking horrible.” He said aloud, looking him up and down.

Your horse snorted and glared back.

“What? You do.” He answered, instantly cringing after. He couldn’t believe he was talking to a horse. You did it all the time, however. You even claimed that he understood you on a spiritual level , but Levi thought it was just bunch of, well, horse shit.

Did he have a surprise concussion he didn’t remember getting? Did he have a hallucinogenic fever making him inclined to speak to animals? Placing the back of his palm on his forehead, he checked his temperature. No heat, just clammy.

As he closed the distance between the two your horse didn’t make a run for it like he usually did. He really is in bad shape if he isn't running.

Levi grabbed the grimy reins just below your horse’s chin and lightly tugged. He almost tripped over his boots at the sudden lack of movement. Whipping his head around he saw your horse hadn’t moved at all. His shoulder started to sting again.

“Let’s go.” He commanded, giving the reins one more small tug.

No movement. Even in his injured state the horse was still a pain in the ass.

He tugged more firmly, even clicking his tongue a couple times.

Nothing.

Levi then began stepping backwards slowly, pulling the reins as he did so. Your horse followed him with his head until he had stretched his neck as far as he could go without moving. Although Levi affectionately referred to him as a little shit, your horse was in fact a large shit. He was one of the largest horses within the Survey Corps which also made him very troublesome to move. And Levi realized that no amount of pulling was going to get him to budge.

He closed his eyes and exhaled. He was about to do it again.

“I know your favorite person isn’t here right now but, please? Y/N would want you to be someplace safe and cleaned up.” He blankly stared into its amber eyes and it stared right back.

When Levi tugged again, he slowly began to follow.

“Are you fucking serious.” He rolled his eyes and headed towards the stable.

↞♞♘↠

“Squad Leader I messed up, literally.” Your opening statement had the woman slightly worried, but mostly intrigued.

“Y/N. For the fiftieth time I told you to call me Hange, just Hange.” She responded cheerfully before laying eyes on your nervous form. She quirked an eyebrow and gestured to the lounge chair slightly to the left of her desk. You sank into it and let out a shaky breath before explaining the situation. Throughout the story, Hange had to stifle her laughter which caused your frown to deepen.

“That’s the most excitement shorty has gotten in a while.” She giggled, the severity of the situation going completely over her head. You curled up and groaned, placing your head in your hands.

“Aw, Y/N don’t be upset. You messed up and you apologized, that’s all you could have done. It’s not like shorty is going to kill you or anything.” She came to the back of the lounge chair and enveloped you in a hug.

“He does love his tea though…” She trailed off, cocking her head in contemplation. You let out a muffled cry and wiggled in her grasp.

“Ah-no I didn’t mean to stress you out! In all seriousness nothing bad will happen to you, I’ll see to that. You know how many brats annoy him on the daily? You are just another one of those cadets to him at most.” She reassured, rubbing your shoulders gently. She lowered her voice and matched his tone perfectly when she imitated his favorite insult. A little bubble of laughter rose from your chest.

“But if it’s really bothering you-” She gave your shoulders one last squeeze before returning to her desk. “You could buy him some more. Only if you can afford it, that is.”

You would have to use up a significant amount of this month's savings, because from experience you knew that stuff was not the cheapest, but if it meant that you wouldn’t suffer a lifetime of torture it would be a worthwhile monetary sacrifice.

↞♞♘↠

Levi led your horse into the stable, passing your grandmother’s other horses before stopping at an empty stall and placing him inside. He gingerly removed his saddle and bridle, careful not to nick any exposed skin.

I have my work cut out for me. He rolled up the fabric of his shirt up to his elbows before gathering the grooming supplies. Levi brushed out as much of the dried bits of blood as he could, sponged him down with warm water, and finished with bandaging the tender area just above his back hoof. The last part was particularly hard on his shoulder but he shrugged it off.

He evaluated the equine's condition from head to hoof. Levi had cleaned him up to the best of his abilities and resolved that there was nothing more he could do at the moment. He ran his hand along his neck, giving his coarse pelt a few long strokes, before stepping out of the stall and locking the stable door.

“Good night, little shit. Don’t even think about unlocking that door.”

↞♞♘↠

A few days after the tea incident you had decided to go into town to try to find a new tin. At dinner the previous night, Mikasa had offered to accompany you to help you find a replacement. Besides Hange, she was the only other person who knew of the event. As insignificant as spilling tea was compared to the other stories told by your fellow cadets you still didn't want your mishap spreading around. If your best friend knew about your little mistake you knew you were in for a life of relentless teasing. Not that you didn't already experience that, but you didn't want it going around that you had gotten on the Captain's bad side.

Mikasa had sworn to keep it on the down low, and you were grateful to her for that. The two of you had grown quite close in training as both of you excelled at hand to hand combat. From constantly training together you quickly found out the two of you had much in common and that you got along extremely well. Plus you were happy to have another girl around with all the testosterone floating about the 104th class. Mikasa and you had both grown up around boys, and even though you loved them, albeit them being idiots, it was refreshing to have other friends that were girls. Eren and Armin were attatched to her at the hip so you became more friendly with them as well.

“Hey ugly.” An upbeat voice called in your direction.

“Hey horse-face.” You shot back, looking up from your place at the fence.

“Please don’t start calling me that too. If you do, it will stick for sure.” Jean whined, crossing his arms.

“I’ll stop calling you that when you stop calling me ugly.” You teased, sticking your tongue out at the taller boy. Jean huffed in annoyance but smiled when you tried to hit him.

“You actually look nice today, all jokes aside. Got a date today?” He wiggled his eyebrows and leaned in closer to playfully look you in the eyes. Shoving him away you clicked your tongue.

You had in fact traded in your regular street clothes for something a little fancier, yet still casual. You donned a soft yellow sundress that made you feel less sweaty in the summer heat, pulled some of your short hair into a braid and had put on a ghosting of makeup. It had been awhile since you had the opportunity to dress up, so even if this was just going into town you wanted to take that chance to feel not dirty and grimy like you did during training.

“Would you believe it if I told you that I got all pretty for you, Jeanie~” You cooed, sticking out your bottom lip and looking up at him from under your lashes. Jean gagged in an exaggerated manner and mouthed a yuck before you started playfully kicking him.

“Uhm-guys?” A timid voice piped up, causing both you and Jean to stop mid limb-throwing to stare at the source of the sound.

“Ah! Hey Armin, Mikasa!” You instantly collected yourself and smiled brightly.

“By all means, don’t stop fighting. It was just getting good.” Mikasa added, a small smirk on her features. You abruptly disentangled yourself from Jean and placed your hair back in its position.

“Eren’s not coming?” You tilted your head in confusion. This trip into town was supposed to be the four of you until Jean insisted on joining.

It’s actually better off he’s not coming otherwise those two would be down each other's throats the entire time. You eyed Jean who was fiddling with his shirt.

Armin shook his head before explaining. “No, he has special training with the Captain.” The Captain. His name was enough to send shivers down your spine.

“Horse-face is coming with us into town?” Mikasa asked flatly. You nodded and Jean looked at her with minor offense.

“Yeah, he begged to come along. That’s how much I mean to him.” You linked your arm with his and gripped his forearm hard, cozying up to his side.

“N-no it’s not like that at all.” He stuttered, blush alight on his cheeks. He desperately tried to maneuver out of your grasp but you kept him hanging off your arm like a limp noodle. Armin laughed nervously and Mikasa flashed an amused smile. The way you manhandled Jean was quite an amusing sight.

“Please put up with him for a few hours for me; I had to tolerate him all throughout my childhood.” You pleaded, tugging on his arm causing his balance to falter in your direction.

The nearest town was within walking distance. You and Jean strolled side by side a few paces behind the other two in your party down the main street. Armin’s enthusiastic chattering could faintly be heard from your position. Jean, however, was the total opposite of Armin, and had begun sulking since you had embarrassed him earlier. He would not stop pouting, so you nudged him in the ribcage to snap him out of his pity party. He yelped in surprise and shot you a dirty look.

“Look I’m sorry for teasing you in front of her earlier.” You apologized, poking him on the arm. He gave you a confident smirk, which you knew as the start of his suave act, cool boy act.

“Pft- you mean Mikasa? I don’t care what she thinks.” He responded all too nonchalantly. You deadpanned. If your best friend was proficient in anything it was bullshit.

“You’ve been staring at her this whole time.” You commented, your companion’s confident facade faltering.

“Huh? I’m just walking.”

“I may be ugly but I’m not dumb, dumbass.” You snorted. “I know you like her, but there are no signs pointing towards she’s interested. You might as well date Marco.”

Jean swallowed wrong and began to have a coughing fit. Your firm pats on his upper back only worsened his condition.

“W-what? Why would I date him?” He gasped and jerked his head in your direction.

You were about to explain when Mikasa suddenly stopped.

“We’re here.” She called out. Jean and Armin looked towards the painted sign of the tea shop in confusion.

“We came all the way out here to get tea?” Jean questioned, unamused and still trying to recover from his coughing fit.

“You know how much I love tea.” You trilled. You made an attempt to ruffle his hair but he batted you away.

“Since you think it's lame you and Armin can go somewhere cooler, like the book store or something.”

“I think that’s a good idea.” Mikasa interjected, sending an apologetic look towards Armin before shuffling you into the shop.

“Jean don’t be a dick, please!” You called out before disappearing into the shop.

It was a humble store stocked with countless varieties of tea and various kitchen wares. It was also the only shop that sold tea in this small town, so if they didn’t have the type you were looking for you were screwed. The two of you split up in search for the tea, but your searches came up empty as you scanned every display in sight.

“Is this it?” Mikasa asked, holding up a similar looking container. You shook your head, feeling defeat set in. A small man appeared in your peripheral vision.

“Excuse me, madam, is there something I can help you find?” His hands were clasped together neatly at his front and he wore a wide smile that was barely visible underneath his graying mustache.

“A-ah yes. Do you have Queen Mary tea?” Your question seemed to light up his eyes.

“Oh yes! Quite and aromatic and rich tea, isn't it?” He beamed, leading you to a display where familiar tins were expertly stacked along one of the top shelves. The anxieties that had plagued you for the past few days were all swept away when you saw that little warship. Thanking the employee, you purchased two tins, one for the Captain and one for your grandmother.

“Let’s hope this will set me in the clear.” You said with slight apprehension. Mikasa silently placed a hand on your shoulder as you left the shop and made your way down the cobblestone street.

↞♞♘↠

Upon Levi’s return to the house the sun had set and the moon was already creeping up the sky.

“Why did you take so long?” Your grandmother prodded as if she were interrogating her teenage son.

“He was hiding.” Levi explained as he shoved his boots off his feet.

“...the horse?” She questioned, eyebrow raised. Levi nodded in conformation, plopping rather ungracefully onto one of the kitchen stools. She shook her head in disbelief but didn’t pry any further.

“Here, eat up.” She said, sliding a plate across the table. Bratwurst dressed with sauerkraut and two slices of buttered bread on blue china laid before him. His mouth must have been visibly watering because she puffed with laughter.

“When you’re done please go to bed. You look like shit, bet you feel like it too.” She cackled. There was a small piece of Levi that was beginning to find her dryness endearing.

“Thank you.” He expressed his gratitude before digging into the food. She grunted in response.

“Well-I’ll quit bothering you tonight. The two of you almost made it to Valhalla today so you deserve a full night’s sleep.” She stifled the flames on the stove and took her leave but not before stopping in the doorway.

“I’m going to go check on her again before heading off to bed myself. I’ve prepared one of the guest rooms for you, it’s the last door on the left.” Levi looked up mid bite of his sausage and swallowed before speaking.

“Thank you.”

“Sheesh is that all you know how to say?” She turned back once more in the entryway with a warm smile.

“Eat quickly and get some sleep, otherwise you won’t grow any taller.” Her barking laughter bounced off the walls and harmonized with the creaking of the stairs as she ascended them.

After he finished his meal he went to check on you again. Your condition looked the same; gentle limps strewn across lavender silk and color flushed from your complexion. He slowly pulled the covers up to reveal your bandaged torso. An opaque layer of red rested beneath the layers of gauze, meaning you were still bleeding through the stitches. The hand he used to place the covers over you once more moved to rest against your cheek. He had some false hope in his head that you would react to his touch, but you laid still as ever. Levi prayed you were sleeping as blissfully as you looked, that your peaceful expressions and steady breaths didn’t hold a secret sea of turmoil behind them. He placed a loving kiss to your forehead and reluctantly drew away from you.

He initially thought he would have trouble sleeping, both from his unconventional sleeping habits and the earlier events, but when his head hit the downed pillow the mattress absorbed all the tension in his muscles. His eyes instantly fluttered shut and Levi was engulfed in a tranquil darkness that he hadn’t experienced in a long time. The last thing he heard before he was washed into the the void was that melodious laughter of yours.

↞♞♘↠

Okay, Y/N you can really do it now. He’s positively in there this time.

So after returning from town, here you stood at the climax of your tea saga. The freshly brewed kettle shook with the small tremors of your hands and the cream almost spilled as they gripped the edges of the tray.You attempted to form a determined visage before knocking twice with your foot.

Confident and assertive. Confident and assertive. Confiden-

“Name and business.” Oh god this is actually happening. The situation had manifested from hypothetical to real in a matter of a few words.

“Cadet Y/N, sir.” You specified, eyes locked on the chipping varnish of the door.

“Come in.” A voice with the richness and texture of red wine answered.

It was then you fully realized how preoccupied your hands were and began fumbling to open the door. The Captain heard a symphony of clanking and thudding and rose to his feet.

The next thing you knew the door was being swung open, causing you to falter and barely stop the tray from tumbling from your hold. The Captain regarded you with his usual unwavering expression. His inability to change facial expressions sent you spiraling further into a world of nerves. He said nothing as you straightened yourself up.

“Good evening, Captain.” Meeting his gaze, you smiled. You hoped it looked natural but to your superior you just looked constipated.

“I wanted to apologize again for what happened two days ago, sir.” You started, adjusting the grip on the tray. The Captain’s metallic features dropped from your face to the contents of your hands.

“So I bought you more tea as a replacement, and I brewed a fresh pot for you. Squad Leader said you usually drink tea in the mornings and evenings, and I had to train this morning so I decided this was the best time…” You trailed off towards the end of your speech, remembering how he silenced your rambling before.

The Captain didn’t know how to react. No brat, nor anyone for that matter, had ever gone to this length over something so simple as spilling a sachet of tea. Sure he was annoyed when it happened, but never did he expect you to purchase a whole new tin for him. He new tea was not an affordable commodity, especially this brand. He was the tiniest bit touched.

“You bought this?” He asked, hints of shock evident in his voice. He gestured to the box and you nodded rapidly.

“Yes, sir. I bought you a new tin. I hope you don’t mind I placed some of the bags in the kitchen.”

“That’s fine.” He confirmed. Suddenly the tray was being pushed into his chest. Taken aback he moved backwards slightly.

“Please take it as compensation for the trouble I caused.” You requested, your outstretched arms voicelessly asking him to accept your gift. You waited expectantly for him to relieve you of the tea. When he performed no such action you gulped.

“Place it on my desk.” He instructed, nodding his head in the direction of his work space.

“O-oh yes sir!”

He stepped aside to let you scurry over to the desk. Once you set the tray down you saluted him and made your way back to the door. Before you could dismiss yourself the guttural clearing of his throat stopped you dead in your tracks.

“I did not dismiss you, Cadet.”

Rather than butterflies, bats began swarming in the pit of your stomach. They screeched at your nerves and their leathery wings pricked the inside of your skin. Your head explored all of the terrifying scenarios that could come after that phrase. Thankfully you had an overactive imagination.

“Do you know where Squad Leader Mike’s office is?” He questioned, lifeless eyes boring through your chest. You nodded timidly.

“Go give these to him. When you come back, you don’t need to knock.”

Upon your return after a refreshingly brief encounter with Mike you found the Captain totally immersed in the tea. His eyes were closed, breaths rising from deep in his chest, and a smoothness to his features. If you were not completely petrified by his demeanor, you fancied you would have found him quite handsome.

Handing him the documents Mike had traded for the ones you gave him earlier, you made your second attempt to escape from the Captain’s clutches.

“Cadet.” He called just as your fingers brushed the doorknob.

“Yes, sir?”

“Thank you.”

Your eyes went wide and the bats transformed into butterflies, flitting about in a less chaotic manner.

“A-ah yes, of course sir!” You saluted in one fluid and exaggerated motion. He clicked his tongue and waved your salute off. A short silence fell upon the room that caused you to fiddle with the hems of your sleeves. Levi regarded you with unfeeling eyes, yet beneath them your sweet appearance made his chest clench. Just as you were curious about him, a strange interest in you had blossomed within him.

“Do you need anything else sir?” You offered as he rose from his seat to grab two tea cups from the cabinet.

“Sit.” He instructed, his command firm but no hint of authority in his tone.

“P-Pardon, sir?”

“Sit.” He pointed towards one of the chairs in the corner. You brought it over and seated yourself on the opposite side of the desk. The inside of your body felt as if it was filling with iron, making you feel heavy as you awkwardly awaited his next move. The air was painfully thick between the two of you, if you had let out a large breath it would have solidified within seconds.

“Tell me, how do you make it?” He asked, his words thinning the air. His visage remained focused on preparing the tea, a meager knit of the eyebrows the only movement on his face.

“Pardon, sir?”

“The tea. It’s very good.” The butterflies crept back into your bloodstream. Did he just compliment you?

“Thank you, sir!” You exhaled with a smile, extremely relieved that he was satisfied with your repentance.

The Captain then poured the dark liquid into your cup. He handled the teapot with such a delicacy that contrasted his stark disposition; thin, pallid fingers caressed porcelain while acute ashen eyes supervised.

“Sugar?” He asked, his attention still fully on the tea.

“Yes, please.”

“Cream?”

“No, thank you.”

A tap tap of the steel spoon against the rim of the cup was followed by a soft thank you as he pushed the vessel towards you.

“I add a bit of honey to the tea leaves to give it sweetness. Black tea tends to be bitter on its own.” You answered his earlier question, taking a small sip, cautious not to slurp. Instantly the metal oxidized from your body and was replaced with air.

“Interesting. Where did you learn that?” He lilted, adding a stingy amount of cream to his cup.

“I learned how to make and serve tea when I was young. My family is acquainted with some affluent individuals.” Your thumbs traced patterns on the surface of your teacup.

“Affluent, huh?”

“Yes, sir. A bunch of snobby assholes if you ask me.” Your face turned a ghostly pale before flushing bright red. Just when you were nearing the top of the whole you had dug yourself into you had fallen right back in.

“P-pardon my language, sir! I had no intention of speaking vulgarly.” You covered your mouth with your hands, mortified by your tone of speech.

The captain huffed. It was sound that came deep from his chest that made his eyes crinkle slightly and the corner of his lips twitch upward. It was a sound that made your butterflies flit about and generate a lovely fuzzy feeling with each wing beat.

Maybe your Captain wasn’t as scary as you had originally thought.

#levi #levi x reader #LEVI ACKERMAN #levi heichou #attack on titan #Attack on titan fandom #attack on titan fanfiction #shingeki no kyojin #levi fanfiction #hange zoe #petra ral #levi/reader #AoT #snk #snk x reader #jean kirschstein #bisexual jean

106 notes · View notes

theshedding · 3 years

Text

Lil Nas X: Country Music, Christianity & Reclaiming HELL

I don’t typically bother myself to follow what Lil Nas X is doing from day to day, or even month to month but I do know that his “Old Town Road” hit became one of the biggest selling/streamed records in Country Music Business history (by a Black Country & Queer artist). “Black” is key because for 75+ years Country music has unsuspiciously evolved into a solidly White-identified genre (despite mixed and Indian & Black roots). Regrettably, Country music is also widely known for anti-black, misogynoir, reliably homophobic (Trans isn’t really a conversation yet), Christian and Hard Right sentiments on the political spectrum. Some other day I will venture into more; there is a whole analysis dying to be done on this exclusive practice in the music industry with its implications on ‘access’ to equity and opportunity for both Black/POC’s and Whites artists/songwriters alike. More commentary on this rigid homogeneous field is needed and how it prohibits certain talent(s) for the sake of perpetuating homogeneity (e.g. “social determinants” of diversity & viable artistic careers). I’ll refrain from discussing that fully here, though suffice it to say that for those reasons X’s “Old Town Road” was monumental and vindicating.

As for Lil Nas X, I’m not particularly a big fan of his music; but I see him, what he’s doing, his impact on music + culture and I celebrate him using these moments to affirm his Black, Queer self, and lifting up others. Believe it or not, even in the 2020′s, being “out” in the music business is still a costly choice. As an artist it remains much easier to just “play straight”. And despite appearances, the business (particularly Country) has been dragged kicking and screaming into developing, promoting and advancing openly-affirming LGBTQ 🏳️‍🌈 artists in the board room or on-stage. Though things are ‘better’ we have not yet arrived at a place of equity or opportunity for queer artists; for the road of music biz history is littered with stunted careers, bodies and limitations on artists who had no option but to follow conventional ways, fail or never be heard of in the first place. With few exceptions, record labels, radio and press/media have successfully used fear, intimidation, innuendo and coercion to dilute, downplay or erase any hint of queer identity from its performers. This was true even for obvious talents like Little Richard.

(Note: I’m particularly speaking of artists in this regard, not so much the hairstylists, make-up artists, PA’s, etc.)

_____

Which is why...in regard to Lil Nas X, whether you like, hate or love his music, the young brother is a trailblazer. His very existence protests (at least) decades of inequity, oppression and erasure. X aptly critiques a Neo-Christian Fascist Heteropatriarchy; not just in American society but throughout the Music Business and with Black people. That is no small deal. His unapologetic outness holds a mirror up to Christianity at-large, as an institution, theology and practice. The problem is they just don’t like what they see in that mirror.

In actuality, “Call Me By Your Name”, Lil Nas X’s new video, is a twist on classic mythology and religious memes that are less reprehensible or vulgar than the Biblical narratives most of us grew up on vís-a-vís indoctrinating smiles of Sunday school teachers and family prior to the “age of reason”. Think about the narratives blithely describing Satan’s friendly wager with God regarding Job (42:1-6); the horrific “prophecies” in St. John’s Book of Revelation (i.e. skies will rain fire, angels will spit swords, mankind will be forced to retreat into caves for shelter, and we will be harassed by at least three terrifying dragons and beasts. Angels will sound seven trumpets of warning, and later on, seven plagues will be dumped on the world), or Jesus’s own clarifying words of violent intent in Matthew (re: “Do not think that I have come to bring peace to the earth. I have not come to bring peace, but a sword.” 10:34). Whether literal or metaphor, these age old stories pale in comparison to a three minute allegorical rap video. Conservatives: say what you will, I’m pretty confident X doesn’t take himself as seriously as “The true and living God” from the book of Job.

A little known fact as it is, people have debunked the story and evolution of Satan and already offered compelling research showing [he] is more of a literary device than an actual entity or “spirit” (Spoiler: In the Bible, Satan does not take shape as an actual “bad” person until the New Testament). In fact, modern Christianity’s impression of the “Devil” is shaped by conflating Hellenized mythology with a literary tradition rooted in Dante’s Inferno and accompanying spooks and superstitions going back thousands of years. Whether Catholic, Protestant, Mormon, Scientologist, Atheist or Agnostic, we’ve spent a lifetime with these predominant icons and clichés. (Resource: Prof. Bart D. Erhman, “Heaven & Hell”).

So Here’s THE PROBLEM: The current level of fear and outrage is:

(1) Unjust, imposing and irrational.

(2) Disproportionate when taken into account a lifetime of harmful Christian propaganda, anti-gay preaching and political advocacy.

(3) Historically inaccurate concerning the existence of “Hell” and who should be scared of going there.

Think I’m overreacting?

Examples:

Institutionalized Homophobia (rhetoric + policy)

Anti-Gay Ministers In Life And Death: Bishop Eddie Long And Rev. Bernice King

Black, gay and Christian, Marylanders struggle with Conflicts

Harlem pastor: 'Obama has released the homo demons on the black man'

Joel Olsteen: Homosexuality is “Not God’s Best”

Bishop Brandon Porter: Gays “Perverted & Lost...The Church of God in Christ Convocation appears like a ‘coming out party’ for members of the gay community.”

Kim Burrell: “That perverted homosexual spirit is a spirit of delusion & confusion and has deceived many men & women, and it has caused a strain on the body of Christ”

Falwell Suggests Gays to Blame for 9-11 Attacks

Pope Francis Blames The Devil For Sexual Abuse By Catholic Church

Pope Francis: Gay People Not Welcome in Clergy

Pope Francis Blames The Devil For Sexual Abuse By Catholic Church

The Pope and Gay People: Nothing’s Changed

The Catholic church silently lobbied against a suicide prevention hotline in the US because it included LGBT resources

Mormon church prohibits Children of LGBT parents to be baptized

Catholic Charity Ends Adoptions Rather Than Place Kid With Same-Sex Couple

I Was a Religious Zealot That Hurt People-Coming Out as Gay: A Former Conversion Therapy Leader Is Apologizing to the LGBTQ Community

The above short list chronicles a consistent, literal, demonization of LGBTQ people, contempt for their gender presentation, objectification of their bodies/sexuality and a coordinated pollution of media and culture over the last 50+ years by clergy since integration and Civil Rights legislation. Basically terrorism. Popes, Bishops, Pastors, Evangelists, Politicians, Television hosts, US Presidents, Camp Leaders, Teachers, Singers & Entertainers, Coaches, Athletes and Christians of all types all around the world have confused and confounded these issues, suppressed dissent, and confidently lied about LGBT people-including fellow Queer Christians with impunity for generations (i.e. “thou shall not bear false witness against they neighbor” Ex. 23:1-3). Christian majority viewpoints about “laws” and “nature” have run the table in discussions about LGBTQ people in society-so much that we collectively must first consider their religious views in all discussions and the specter of Christian approval -at best or Christian condescension -at worst. That is Christian (and straight) privilege. People are tired of this undue deference to religious opinions.

That is what is so deliciously bothersome about Lil Nas X being loud, proud and “in your face” about his sexuality. If for just a moment, he not only disrupts the American hetero-patriarchy but specifically the Black hetero-patriarchy, the so-called “Black Church Industrial Complex”, Neo-Christian Fascism and a mostly uneducated (and/or miseducated) public concerning Ancient Near East and European history, superstitions-and (by extension) White Supremacy. To round up: people are losing their minds because the victim decided to speak out against his victimizer.

Additionally, on some level I believe people are mad at him being just twenty years old, out and FREE as a self-assured, affirming & affirmed QUEER Black male entertainer with money and fame in the PRIME of his life. We’ve never, or rarely, seen that before in a Black man in the music business and popular culture. But that’s just too bad for them. With my own eyes I’ve watched straight people, friends, Christians, enjoy their sexuality from their elementary youth to adolescence, up and through college and later marriages, often times independently of their spouses (repeatedly). Meanwhile Queer/Gay/SGL/LGBTQ people are expected to put their lives on hold while the ‘blessed’ straight people run around exploring premarital/post-marital/extra-marital sex, love and affection, unbound & un-convicted by their “sin” or God...only to proudly rebrand themselves later in life as a good, moral “wholesome Christian” via the ‘sacred’ institution of marriage with no questions asked.

Inequality defined.

For Lil Nas X, everything about the society we've created for him in the last 100+ years (re: links above) has explicitly been designed for his life not to be his own. According to these and other Christians (see above), his identity is essentially supposed to be an endless rat fuck of internal confusion, suicide-ideation, depression, long-suffering, faux masculinity, heterosexism, groveling towards heaven, respectability politics, failed prayer and supplication to a heteronormative earthly and celestial hierarchy unbothered in affording LGBT people like him a healthy, sane human development. It’s almost as if the Conservative establishment (Black included) needs Lil Nas X to be like others before him: “private”, mysteriously single, suicidal, suspiciously straight or worse, dead of HIV/AIDS ...anything but driving down the street enjoying his youth as a Black Queer artist and man. So they mad about that?

Well those days are over.

-Rogiérs is a writer, international recording artist, performer and indie label manager with 25+ years in the music industry. He also directs Black Nonbelievers of DC, a non-profit org affiliated with the AHA supporting Black skeptics, Atheists, Agnostics & Humanists. He holds a B.A. in Music Business & Mgmt and a M.A. in Global Entertainment & Music Business from Berklee College of Music and Berklee Valencia, Spain. www.FibbyMusic.net Twitter/IG: @Rogiers1

91 notes · View notes

4tlas-hyper · 3 years

Text

I don't read a whole lot of fanfic, but here we go with some fic recommendations(all of these are on AO3 btw). I would put links for all of these, but this website is being stubborn and I don't have the energy to fiddle with it for an hour to get it to work.

"Twilight Roads" by Malesherbes:

The Hollow Knight and Pale King get stuck in the middle of a desert together and have mend their relationship in order for both of them to survive(featuring: a whole big serving of angst, because obviously). I can't explain why I love it so much without spoiling it, but it is a very good read so far and I am looking forward to where it goes.

"Will Terribly, If You Will At All" by Payasita:

The Radiance mysteriously disappears along with her infection, leaving the Pure Vessel able to show their true selves, no longer needing to pretend to be empty. I love that the Radiance's disappearance wasn't just a random occurrence and there was actually a reason behind it(a reason that made sense as well), and the mystery element where the characters try and figure out what that reason is was executed very well and the payoff was even better. This fic is definitely one of the more popular ones, but it's for good reason, go read it if you haven't already.

"Chips and Salsa" by SibillaSribbles08:

Surprisingly not a HK fic(bet you didn't see see that one coming, now did ya?). I was looking for some wholesome Glaciershipping fanfic because I was rewatching Ninjago with my younger sisters, and I found this pretty good one. Cole going to visit his father + Zane tagging along = G A Y(you can pry this ship from my cold dead hands, and even then good luck, because I will have glued it to my cold dead hands).

#fic rec #hk #hollow knight #the pale king #thk #ninjago #lego ninjago #glaciershipping

35 notes · View notes

xsugarysweetsx · 4 years

Note

Could you do a hc where Finral, Asta, Yuno and Fuego hold their baby for the first time? I saw this on your blog and I thought it was the cutest thing ever. Thank you!

YESSS THIS IS WHOLESOME!! I love baby fics :(. Please enjoy anon!

Finral has a daughter first and no one can tell me otherwise

You’re labor was a long one for him. He had to wait outside the entire time

Not being able to hold your hand or kiss your pain away, all he could do was pray

He even tried to portal in there but they just kicked him out again

When they finally let him in there you were sweaty, out of breath and tired, but happy

With the small amount of strength you had you held the small bundle in your arms

He walked over to your side letting out a breath he had no idea he was holding

“It’s a girl..“ you said weakly

He instantly teared up gathering you carefully in his arms and pressed kisses to your head he looks down at the small baby

“Oh, she’s so beautiful Y/N” he whispered. He expected a chuckle from you but he turned to see you had your eyes shut.

He took his daughter carefully in his arms to let you rest

He sat in a near by chair with the tiny being in his arms

He didn’t hold back his tears looking at her. He was still wondering how something so perfect was made by you both. He felt blessed to able to say this was his babygirl

holds her close and kisses her silky soft tuff of hair

“Hey princess, I’m your papa. Welcome to the world, everyone is waiting for you back at the hideout. You’re already so loved can you believe that? But no one will love you as much as me and mommy do“

okay but LOOK AT THOSE EYES

Asta was one tough boi

He let you squeeze his arm and hands because he knew you were in more pain than he would ever feel.

“I’m right here, you got this“

“You’re almost there!“

He wanted to know exactly what was going and took a slight peak over your dress. He whipped his head back real quick

He wasn’t sure what to feel about that....it was terrifying and traumatizing and yet he wasn’t appalled by it. His baby was coming into the world so at the same time it was beautiful

When you finally fell back a loud cry filled the room as the doctors announced

“It’s a boy!”

They came and laid the boy on you chest, he already had Asta’s nose and tiny tuff of grey hair

yup, a mini version on Asta.He sat with you in bed and looked at the little baby.

“Do you want to hold him?“ Asta looked at his muscular rough hands and was scared. He didn’t want to accidentally hurt him

You set his arms to show him how to hold and what to support, you slowly lay the baby in his arms. This was the best feeling in the world..

he didn’t know what to say or how to act. He never had his actual parents in his life and this baby was his new mission. To give him everything he never had

“Hey buddy, I’m your father. We’re going to go on adventures once your big and strong, and we can train together and everything. Maybe you’ll even become the wizard king. Don’t worry, I will never leave you“

Now here’s the thing

This man put twins in you

The first birth was difficult and then being told you needed to push more was agonizing

When they told you to push again, he felt guilty seeing how much pain you were in and how little strength you had left

While the first baby was whisked away to be cleaned and wrapped up the second one was being stubborn to make their entrance

The entire thing was a nightmare to go through but in the end it’s worth it..

You had given birth to twin boys, both identical and looked like you both with a balanced mixture

Both had his dark hair, one had his pale skin and other had yours. Both were very calm and comfortable in the arms of their parents.

He held the first one you had the second one. He was never one to show his emotion but you knew how happy he was to have not just one but two sons

He swore to you and your babies that he would be everything he never had as a child.

Family hug

His sons were the center of his universe. He had taken part in making two reason to keep going and to better himself

“I swear to you. I will never falter or loose to anyone or anything for you three. I love you...“

The most royal labor.

Special rose bath to sooth your pain and dim lighting

Had like 3 midwives to help you and held your hand the whole time

The labor was smooth and almost quick

You gave birth to a healthy girl

He starts crying and kisses your head thank you over and over again

“I’m so proud of you darling”

He was the first to hold her and he felt so proud about it

She was so tiny in his large hands he was afraid he would be too much for her fragile form

She was so breath taking, she was steal many hearts when she’s older

She looked so much like you but with his hair and scowl which made him laugh

“My little princess, we are so happy you’re finally here. You have a very energetic aunt and uncle waiting to meet you”

Just then meroleona busyed down the door and yelled

“WHERE’S MY NEICE!”

He glared at for being too loud

#yuno x reader #fuegoleon vermillion x reader #finral roulacase x reader #asta x reader #black clover x reader #black clover anime #black clover fuegoleon #fanfiction #anime #anime x reader

950 notes · View notes

chaoticneutralwriter · 4 years

Text

Interlude: Second Best

long·ing | \ ˈlȯŋ-iŋ : a strong desire especially for something unattainable guardian demon!Jimin x reader genre: fluff, romance, angst, comedy, supernatural word count: 4.9k Related works: See Masterlist under guardian demon!Jimin POV switch for Jamais Vu A/N: IT’S ANGSTY LOLLL woops and a little longer than i had planned tbh but i hope you enjoy it all the same, because this will give you some insight when the tone shifts in the next couple of chapters :DD Again, thank you SO SO SO much for the wait and support! I love you all!! I hope you like this chapter! 💜💜💜🥺🥺🥺 (also, without meaning to, The Truth Untold really fits as an OST here... LOL)

Tag: @cherryjiminiee @kokobaekkie @breathebangtan @itsadoozie @thatshylatinagirl @chiminieboi @azulamakesmeblank @sectumsemptae @awkwardwookie @aduky @poisonseashell @shortannoyingginger @caramelmac-chiato @sana-b

He needs to stop doing that.

Tempting himself with little touches whenever he gets the chance. They’re harmless enough but he might as well be dissecting his own heart at an excruciatingly slow pace.

But he’s come to know by now that he doesn’t have much sense when it comes to you.

Jimin moves through the crowd like a phantom, passing by without so much as a second glance from anyone despite your lack of trust with his choice of attire. To others, he’s just another traveler trying to get to where they need to go. And right now, he’s shadowing you, eyes trained on the back of yours and your friend’s head. He’s got a clear view even when Jimin is a good twenty or so steps back and there’s a wall of people separating him from you, keeping well to his word that he would be discreet enough that you won’t even notice him.

He watches from a far as you and your friend are excitedly chattering away with two girls whom you have never met before as if you have always known them. The entire interaction makes his lips curl with an amused smile. Under different circumstances, Jimin would think it all stupid; not really understanding how ridiculously trusting you were being just because you all shared a common love for a group of musical artist yet somehow, seeing you makes it strangely wholesome.

It’s in those moments that he chances a glimpse of what humanity could be but ultimately choose not to.

Jimin eventually leaves you, weirdly confident that you’re in good hands as he hails an airport limo. One almost immediately pulls up beside him, the man hastily getting out.

“Good morning sir, where are we heading off to today?” The driver asks as he comes around to pull the door open for Jimin to duck in, gliding into the seat.

“The Ritz-Carlton, downtown.”

The man nods in acknowledgement, shutting the door once he’s sure Jimin is settled before jogging back to the driver’s seat. The drive there is quiet, something the demon is thankful for because he’s not in a particular mood to humour anyone. He takes the time to slip the black surgical mask off, finally feeling the cooler air hit against his warmer skin. He exchanges it for a pair of shades he pulls from his duffle, slipping them on before he crosses his arms, sighing deeply and sinks into the plush leather.

The traffic gets noticeably more congested the closer the car comes to the downtown area so it takes a while before the entrance to the hotel comes into view. Jimin hands off a couple of bills to the driver when he opens the door for him again, hauling his duffle bag and jacket as he steps out. The driver courteously bids him a good day but Jimin only has half the mind to offer a grunt in response, heading off into the lobby in long strides to the front desk where a man in a pristinely pressed suit greets him. He’s quickly given the keys to his room and is escorted to the lifts, the bellhop offering to take his things but Jimin waves a dismissive hand, keeping to himself as much as possible.

By the time he gets to his suite, he’s feels unreasonably weary and all but tosses his duffle bag carelessly to the foot of the king size bed along with his shades to collapse into the soft embrace of Egyptian cotton sheets. Jimin shuts his eyes for a moment, hands coming up to rub the bridge of his nose as another deep exhale leaves him.

If he was a normal human being, Jimin shouldn’t be feeling this tired since for majority of the plane ride, he had fallen into quite a deep slumber. But since he’s in fact not a human being, it only raises concerns. Lately, he’s noticed that he’s been sleeping a lot more — way more than a demon should be doing considering they don’t sleep at all (it’s viewed as more of a leisure activity to do rather than something that’s required) and if he’s not sleeping, he’s constantly feeling like he’s got a bad case of lethargy. It’s troubling and also irritating as hell, but Jimin already suspects its the unfortunate byproduct of having completed two acts of the five he needs to do.

And has no idea how to do the rest.

His eyes slip open then, brows furrowing with dark obsidian orbs glaring into the cream coloured ceiling like it would give him the answers. The second act was a stroke of luck on his part, Jimin thinks; a matter of being in the right place at the right time and for very good reasons. He can’t imagine accomplishing the rest in the same manner.

Running a hand through his hair, Jimin contemplates a little longer until he huffs out an agitated sigh. As much as he doesn’t want to admit it, it won’t do him to mull over this problem endlessly, figuring that he can be at least thankful that there doesn’t seem to be any particular deadline (knock on wood). Glancing at the beside clock, he sees the red numbers reading 1:36PM and idly wonders if you’re still at the venue no doubt soaking in all the excitement and activity going on.

A small smile tugs at the corner of his lips, already imagining you, eyes alight with the biggest grin on your face as you try to take everything in. Finally, he hauls himself to sit up, giving his neck a few stretches before he gets off the bed to make his way to the en suite bathroom. With so much time to waste, Jimin hopes that a cold shower would help wash away a bit of his fatigue, quite literally. Besides that, he hasn’t felt any intense negative emotions from you which more than likely means everything is fine, for now.

He half-heartedly shuts the door, reaching up to grasp his shirt from the back of his neck to pull over his head. The black tee is dropped to the floor without much care, along with the rest of his clothes. He passes by the mirror, catching a glimpse of himself and though it was brief, the image reflecting back at him made him grimace all the same.

The natural glow on his skin had long since dulled, making him appear as if Jimin hadn’t seen the sun in months, the ghost of blue veins and bruises peeking from beneath made even more visible from how pale he’s become. The tattoo crest over the left side of his chest is faded, almost in a way where the ink is slowly being rubbed off a little bit more each day — another indication of his reduced powers. He’s lost a bit of weight, most noticeably around his face and although it’s defined his jawline significantly, his cheeks are at risk of hollowing out soon.

It’s only truly been a day, and yet now he is nothing more than a withering, duller version of who he’s supposed to be.

A cheap imitation.

He scoffs, a humourless sort of laugh. How ironic it is that he’s come to care more on what’s supposed to be a very superficial part of being a demon, perhaps even found meaning to.

When he steps into the clear glass shower stall, Jimin turns the water until it runs ice cold before stepping under. He inhales sharply at the first contact, the shock in the temperature hitting against his more warmer skin but he quickly grows numb to it, grateful for the way the water seems to ease the discomfort growing along his shoulder blades. Jimin doesn’t know how long he stands there, eyes shut and lulled by the sounds of the running shower beating down on him and echoing around in the enclosure.

It’s a temporary respite from his thoughts and when he finally decides to shut the water off, he feels a little more alert. He towels himself off, wrapping one around his slim waist as he heads back into the large bedroom to grab a change of clothes from his duffle.

Once he’s dressed, he dries his hair and by the time he’s done, the clock reads near five. The show starts in two and a half hours, he supposes he should get a scope of the venue. Grabbing the black surgical mask, Jimin secures the ends behind his ears, preparing to apparate to the arena when —

He stops midstep.

Ah, right.

A rush of air leaves his nose, cocking his head as your words replay in his head. He already hears your chastising tone with them too.

He quietly chuckles to himself, then continues walking, heading to his door.

With as much discretion as he could manage (okay, he might’ve cheated here and there by cloaking himself), he makes it to the venue which wasn’t so bad of a walk from the hotel. No one pays attention to him, with the hood of his pullover drawn up he was just another faceless person in the passing crowd. It only really got trickier the closer he came to the epicentre of it all.

He sticks to the shadows and less populated spots, staying out of sight and blending in wherever he can. There are still some large crowds gathered at some of the booths, trying to take advantage of the quickly dwindling number of patrons who have already moved on to getting into the arena. Others are running as fast as their feet can carry them, racing against time in whatever it is they needed to do while it seems like eighty percent of the concert goers are in a line, excitedly chatting and impatient to have the show start. It’s a hubbub of activity, boisterous and charged with energy that even Jimin has a bit of a struggle orienting himself. So not much later, he slinks towards the side alley of the building where the crowds tend to avoid.

It grows a little quieter the further he moves down the path, the jumble of voices becoming more muffled. The asphalt paving is cracked in numerous places with some giving way to potholes that Jimin can only guess is from how often trucks carrying equipment for events pass through here, or even ones meant to empty the dumpsters pressed up against the walls. Weeds sprout long and thin against them in bunches, pushing tenaciously through the cracks and somehow still managing to grow in spite of the lack of good soil. The poor upkeep alone is enough to deter anyone from wandering back here, which means Jimin can peacefully explore the area.

His strides slow without the rushing need to remain hidden, strolling along the alley before his eyes come across a door right beside one of the large dumpsters, perfectly situated so that it’s almost concealed. It lacks any handle, the only thing visible was a metal plate ridge on the side and a silver keyhole. Jimin supposes this meant that the door opens one way, probably for employees to quickly throw out the trash but otherwise is not by any means a point of entry.

Perfect.

He takes one more glance around, makes sure no one is looking and then with all of his concentration, phases through. Immediately his senses are bombarded by the booming of the bass as well as the far off distant hustle of people, but he pushes all of it aside in trying to shake off the fuzzy haze clouding his sight and the light thrumming in his head. Jimin presses a palm to his forehead, shutting his eyes with gritted teeth until the feeling subsides and he straightens himself, a little flabbergasted.

Fuck, this is going to suck.

He pushes the disconcerting fact that phasing through a door was enough to make him dizzy, focusing on doing what he came here to do; find a loophole in security and make sure you won’t get hurt at any point during the night — easy.

With light steps, Jimin makes his way out of the corridor, coming into an area spacious enough to have golf carts driving through (no sooner had he thought that, one goes zooming by). It vaguely reminds him of an underground parking garage except less…dingy. There are a few people walking about, busy with their heads down engrossed in their phones or sheets of papers in their hands and he easily recognizes them as part of the crew from the lanyards that dangle around their neck. A pretty, pastel coloured thing that easily catches his eye against the mostly all black uniform they sport.

He walks for a bit, almost as if entranced by the muffled songs and distant cheers that echo all around him until he comes across the hallway leading to the artist waiting room. It’s much busier and noisier, people scuttling in and out with multiple voices giving orders, updates, laughing, calling out for others in Korean and…is that singing?

The more Jimin listens, the more he picks out the melodic flow of a scale being sung, ranging from high, airy lilting tones to much more deep and richer timbres. He recognizes the tunes, songs you play when you study, get ready for the morning or unconsciously hum under your breath — songs that have grown on him.

Gradually, the singing becomes louder and suddenly Jimin sees an entourage of people exiting out of a room all at once. He instinctively side steps back until he’s concealed by the shadows offered by a large pillar, continuing to watch the scene unfold in front of him that way.

They stand out amongst the many staff members crowding them and not just because they’re dressed in absurdly black sparkly suits. Hair immaculately styled and complexion as pore-less as porcelain, Jung Hoseok, otherwise known as J-Hope, strolls out adjusting his headset before brushing his hands down on his jacket, straightening it out as a woman dabs finishing powder delicately on the tip of his nose. Quick to follow is Kim Taehyung, or V, still doing vocal warm-ups as he comes to stand beside the older member to wait for the others. They’re strikingly handsome in their own distinct ways, Hoseok with his high cheekbones and swooping nose bridge that makes for an arresting side profile while Taehyung with a round face tapering down to a strong jawline and near symmetrical features makes for a face that seems too unreal to be true.

A small part of him is aware that he shouldn’t be lingering like this because the unspoken rule is that a demon should never confront or even come into close proximity of the one they’re masquerading as for very obvious reasons. It’s risky and puts him in danger but there’s a morbid curiousity that’s gnawing at him, compelling him to stay and it’s not long before he sees him.

The owner of the sweet lilting voice that sounds much like his own, yet not at the same time.

Dressed much like his waiting members, BTS’ Park Jimin emerges from the artist waiting room, one hand shoved into his pants pocket, strides so languid and purposeful that one can mistaken the plain, industrial hallway to be a high fashion catwalk instead. He’s singing softly but puts emphasis on certain phrases to get the pitch right, sometimes repeating as if he’s not satisfied with the way it sounds. He’s practically glowing, hair a halo of rich honey blond, styled and coiffed to show his face which is made up of a myriad of contradictions — soft full cheeks are paired with a sharp jaw, full lips and slightly puffy eyes that can drown anyone with a sultry gaze; the perfect balance of lust and innocence.

As a demon, even he has to admit he’s impressed.

Hoseok makes a noise of appraisal, scanning the younger over and it makes a smile bloom, eyes scrunching until they disappear before he gives a light shove to the older man’s shoulder, giggling in clear embarrassment. A playfulness takes over the small group, conversation flowing easily with a few teases thrown here and there that anyone could see the strong familial bond the boys share amongst each other.

It’s so strange, he thinks, watching them as if through a looking glass with his eyes fixated on this person who’s very much real, living out a completely different life than his, beloved by all and equally admired by many.

Someone who you love.

That alone should ignite a jealous flame that consumes him, and yet the only one who he’s spiteful of is himself.

“Oh Jimin are those new earrings?” Taehyung says, reaching a finger out to brush the thin silver chains hanging from the small hoop they’ve been threaded through.

“Ah yeah, I wanted to try out a new style so I combined two of them.”

“They look good.”

Jimin preens at the compliment, a smug grin stretching across his lips as he shakes his head a little, making the earrings twinkle in the light. As his head lolls to one side, something catches his eye for a brief second, making him straighten at attention, smile faltering. The sudden shift startles his friend.

“Why? What’s up?” Taehyung asks, eyes impossibly wide as they flit from Jimin’s face to where his friend’s gaze is trained.

The blond blinks, mouth parted to speak but finds trouble in trying to describe what he saw out of the corner of his eyes. “I— Just now, I thought I saw a person….by the pillar there. But…I couldn’t really tell.”

Boldly, Taehyung takes steps around so that he could get a better angle of the pillar but remain at a safe distance, leaning his weight fully to one side in hopes of catching whatever it is that Jimin thinks he saw, but all there is is just a shadow being cast.

“There’s nothing there Jimin-ah… Maybe you were imagining it? Are you that nervous?”

 “No I’m not!” Jimin punches Taehyung lightly, the gibe taking the edge off a little but just to give himself his own peace of mind, Jimin takes a look as well, finding nothing in the space behind. He doesn’t know what to make of it however, he’s not given the time to mull over it because the rest of his group mates show up and they finally start heading to the stage lift, their eagerness and seemingly boundless energy carries him away, reminding him of other more important matters at hand.

Admittedly though, he can’t help but still feel a little in disbelief over it because he could’ve sworn there was someone watching him.

The show gets under way splendidly, the level of excitement palpable even from where he’s hidden. During that time, the demon has made his way to a spot right at the corner under the catwalk, the low lighting and barricade helps in making it easier for him to blend in as the silhouettes of the security guards posted around the perimeter, rarely having to conceal himself using his powers. Jimin has spotted you a couple of times, your figure peeking in between others and every time he sees you, you’re having the time of your life. The ever-changing spotlights cast pretty colours on you, dancing over your face and making the smile you had seem to radiate even more.

He finds himself caught up in watching you rather than the amazing performance thousands of other people have their eyes fixated on.

The only time he stops is when you push yourself through the crowd in order to get a better view of the idol he’s impersonating. It’s hard not to when the young man does such a brilliant job at commanding the stage, filling it up in spite of performing alone. He watches on, fascinated yet unable to for long as it only stirs up complicated feelings at having to face what he so painfully lacks.

You on the other hand, are completely enraptured; eyes focused and trying to drink in the image of him as much as they can but past the open awe and adoration, Jimin picks up on something that he can’t quite seem to place — something he can only describe as melancholy, like you’re already starting to miss the idol despite him being right in front of you. He doesn’t understand why.

As the music switches up, so does the mood as the hype level rises astronomically. The band members have the whole arena up on their feet, jumping, dancing and singing (or screaming?) to the lyrics. The atmosphere is hot and in more ways than one, with all the lights and the numerous bodies moving in one mass. Jimin swears everyone has worked up a sheen of sweat, even himself who’s yet to really move a muscle. At one point, he had actually snuck a water bottle for a drink, the growing humidity almost suffocating.

He tries to focus in on his heartbeat which seems to beat in sync to the heavy bass but the flashing lights and loud cheers make it hard, his senses bombarded. It takes a while before eventually the staccato thrumming in his chest slows until it doesn’t feel like it would burst through his ribs. It tapers off to a much steadier rhythm, almost as if he were deep in sleep.

But then it continues to slow even further.

Alarmed, Jimin’s hand flies up to press against the spot in search of a pulse, breath suddenly coming out short to find that he can barely feel it there. For a moment, he’s confused until a chill runs through him that makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand. His immediate reaction is to look for you, eyes searching frantically in the crowd. It frustratingly takes a while as he realizes he’s lost you a bit but eventually he finds you and what he sees makes his stomach drop.

You’re slightly hunched over like you’re fighting to keep yourself upright on weak knees, standing out so clearly amongst the sea of moving bodies. When you manage to straighten yourself, he catches sight of your flushed cheeks and heaving chest, the sheen of sweat reflecting off of the strobing light and not helping with your feverish look.

And then your eyes roll back and you’re tipping over.

His mouth falls open and the shout that slips past falls on deaf ears, smothered by the music and incessant screaming. Jimin’s reaching out before he could even think about the risk of being found, his panic driving him as he sees you being swallowed by the crowd, the bodies intermingling and threatening to close in around you and make him lose sight of you. It all seems to be happening in slow motion, but what he doesn’t realize is that he’s the one who’s causing the time distortion, his desperation manifested.

In those long seconds, JImin moves purely on instincts, teleporting himself in short bursts to reach you and soon as he feels his hand close around your wrist, he apparates the both of you with every ounce of magic he can summon.

There’s a whistling of air in his ears and the next second, he’s crash landing against a brick wall. His back hits it hard, crumpling to the ground instantly and he lets out a low groan, teeth gritting as his eyes screws shut at the pounding in his head. Everything aches, his body screaming at him from the strain but the only thing Jimin cares about is the fact that he’s managed to take most of the brunt force of his sloppy landing from you who’s safely cradled in his arms.

Fighting through the pain, he immediately directs his attention down at you, blinking away the black spots in his vision hastily.

“Hey…!” Jimin calls out, voice gravelly and still breathless. He shoves down the mask covering his mouth, the first touch of cooler air a relief against his warm, damp skin and it feels like he’s properly breathing now. He cups a hand to your clammy cheek, not liking how the colour seems to have been drained from them as he checks for a pulse, which thankfully is still strong. He brushes the hair away from your face, propping you up in a more comfortable position, softly murmuring words of encouragement even if you might not hear them.

Jimin’s not exactly sure if he should be doing something more drastic than simply hope that you would wake on your own but luckily he didn’t have to resort to such measures when he sees your lids begin to flutter. Slowly, your eyes slip open and though you’re clearly very out of it still, Jimin already feels the pressure on his chest alleviate.

“Y/N….? Hey Y/N, can you hear me?”

It takes a minute before the focus returns in your gaze a little more, but Jimin waits patiently. He takes the time to do a once over on you, noting that your complexion is gradually getting better and from the looks of it, you didn’t seem to sustain any external injuries, much to his relief.

“Ji…Jimin…?” Your voice comes out raw and cracked, drawing his attention at the first call of his name.

No, not yours.

His brows furrow as he pushes away the intrusive thought, his first priority being to make sure you were okay. Jimin uncaps the water bottle in his hoodie pocket, gently feeding it to you until you found your strength, taking and gulping down the rest at an impressive speed.

“Slow down cherub…”

At least you were resilient, he thinks.

The next few moments were spent letting you rest and recuperate. When you were more clear headed, he fills you in on how you ended up out here in the side alley of the arena however, what soon followed after wasn’t something that he had meant to happen.

Maybe it was partially his fault, not truly realizing how high his emotions ran but the way you had shot to your feet, legs only barely holding you up and your first thought was getting back to the arena as quickly as you can, completely disregarding the state you were in all for the sake of…what? Getting a glimpse of your idol? At what cost?

Whatever it was, he would not stand for your recklessness and blind loyalty to the point where you will endanger yourself.

But no matter how hard he tries, his words doesn’t reach you and the mounting frustration builds until it has the both of you screaming at each other.

“Can you just lay off?! I’m fine!”

“You can barely hold yourself up! I’m not letting you put yourself in danger!”

“I DON’T CARE!”

“Y/N LOOK AT ME!”

That was the last straw for Jimin, hands grasped on either of your shoulders as if he could shake some sense into you. You’re both panting, out of breath from the exertion but you’re finally looking at him. He takes in the way your pupils tremble, whether from fright or from nerves, and the way they shine as if with unshed tears.

Why?

There’s a desperation in them, so intense that it almost scares Jimin but no matter how much he gazes into your irises, the question still remains….

“Why….?”

He whispers unconsciously, the one word ringing loud between you, even above the echoing cheers. You don’t respond immediately, overtaken by a flurry of emotions that flit through your eyes so quickly that Jimin has trouble discerning them. Your mouth opens and closes a few times, sentences starting but dying before you can get the rest of the words trapped in your throat out until ultimately, you give up.

You turn away, eyes downcast as he hears you utter weakly, “Forget it…Please, you— you wouldn’t understand….”

He freezes, the statement seeming to pierce through him with a flooding of realizations; the images of you all starstruck as you watch Jimin, the idol, performing come rushing back to him so vividly it’s like he’s reliving it again. And it’s then that he is reminded of the fact —

It’s Jimin who dances with such poise and grace.

Jimin who sings with a voice that entrances thousands, millions.

Jimin who shines on stage, with a sweet smile, a gentle aura and a warm heart.

Not him.

No, he won’t ever be as good as the original Jimin. Especially not now, given how he’s not even sure what he is anymore.

He notices your hand clenching tightly at your side, how withdrawn you are from him and it’s made clear that he's not winning this fight – maybe even foolishly thinking he had that chance to begin with.

He steps back, away from you in resignation, acceptance. “You’re right…. I wouldn’t…”

With nothing more to say, you leave and he only watches until you disappear from his sights. Left to his thoughts, he retreats back into the dark of night, a place of comfort and familiarity.

Perhaps it’s better this way, to have you long for and love the image of idol Jimin, someone much more fitting to be a light in your life and for him to remain the shadow that follows you from afar. This way, you'll be much happier.

Even when, deep down, he wishes so selfishly for you to call him by his true name.

193 notes · View notes

mysticmelove · 5 years

Text

Jumin week- day 1:

Happy Birthday/ Family

The city lights were like stars, twinkling across the skyline of the city; the view impeccable from the table at which they sat. Dinner was a always something relatively important for Jumin; it was time to spend with family, and a moment to reflect on things. His birthday dinner was no different.

Jumin’s father had joined them for dinner, treating the couple to a fancy dinner towards the centre of the city. The atmosphere was warm, comforting in contrast to the stress of the past year. The father and son spoke fondly amongst each other, drinking heartily as they humoured at the most trivial of things. MC sat quietly on the side, watching them with a small smile; Jumin’s joy was enough to set her heart alight. Every so often, he would hold her hand protectively under the table, squeezing it sweetly, before turning to her with a wholesome smile. His voice was smooth as he watched her sip at her mocktail, “The wine is so good, my love. A classic.” He offered his own glass towards her, “Try some; it’s sweet, just how you like it.”

MC laughed at his pink tinted cheeks, shaking her head in response, “I’m fine. One of us has to be sober.”

Jumin cocked an eyebrow, lifting the glass to his own lips but his gaze never leaving her eyes, “Fine, if you so wish.”

Having observed the two, Jumin’s father laughed at their exchange. He lifted his glass to his own lips, nodding his head to his son. “A sober woman is a smart woman. She knows what she’s doing.” MC shot her husband that cocky ‘I told you so look’, before he could continue speaking. Mr Han cleared his throat with some power, now smiling at his son, “Right, your birthday present.” He looked to his daughter-in-law, his brows furrowing slightly. “I was going to send the both of you on a holiday but then I was proposed with an offer–”

“So it’s business related?” Jumin mocked, his voice thick with alcohol.

“Slightly...Think of it as an extended holiday, with some work on the side.”

“Extended...” MC mumbled from the rim of her glass, swallowing thickly at his words.

Her father hummed, pondering upon his plans, “A few years, maybe?”

“Years?” Jumin exclaimed quietly.

Mr Han sighed at what seemed to be his son’s disappointment: “Yes. It was proposed to me. Travel the world and do business along the way but... I’m getting on with age. I thought you two might enjoy it.”

Jumin’s stoic face was gone once again almost immediately, replaced with his warm partly drunken smile. He held on to his wife’s hand firmly once more, smirking at her wide eyes and the look of confusion on her face. “Of course we will. I couldn’t imagine travelling the world with anyone but you, my love.”

MC’s mouth was slightly agape, only for her teeth to barely graze against her bottom lip. “Hm”

“A few years of absolute bliss?” Jumin reaffirmed his grip around her hand, prompting a subtle smile from his wife.

With a deep breath, she nodded back to him, “Of course. It’s just nerves...”

“They won’t bother you in time to come, I can assure you,” he almost whispered to her as he leant in close to where she sat.

A moment of silence filled the air, before Mr Han’s voice command the table again. “Well, it appears as if I have offered the best gift this year.” A smirk of nothing but pride spread across his cheeks as he went to drink once more.

“I wouldn’t be so quick,” Jumin corrected him, drawing the attention of the two in his company. His hand moved to her thigh and his voice was like silk again: “I believe MC has another gift?”

“Oh.” The shape of her moth mimicked the sort sound she made, a nervous blush following almost instantly. “Yes... But don’t get too hopeful.”

“You could never disappoint.”

There was no hesitation as they entered the house. Jumin had his hands all over MC, holding her firmly by the waist and whispering sweet nothings in her ear as he guided her through the house carelessly. His breath teased at the shell of her ear, his words eliciting and nothing but suggestive, “I seem to remember you saying I was to receive one more gift?”

She giggled at his words as she relaxed in his protective hold. Any tension from their dinner had essentially left her, it was just her and her husband- nothing else mattered. “Someone’s had a bit too much to drink, haven’t they?”

“I was just enjoying myself with my father, my love,” he cooed lustily as they entered the bedroom, inching their way towards the king sized bed. His eyes were dark and downcast as he spoke: “It’s a shame you didn’t join in the fun.” Jumin spun her on her heels, her palms now pressed firmly against his chest as he placed a soft kiss upon her lips. His gentle gestures were short lived however as he pushed her back onto the bed and held himself above her.

MC kissed at his lips haphazardly, her mouth grazing partly at his cheek. “I was having my own fun,” she tugged playfully at his collar, their noses pressed carefully against each other, “don’t you worry.”

“It’s my job to worry for you...” Once again they were kissing, Jumin’s hand supporting her and the other threading nonchalantly through the strands of her hair. She melted into his touch in an instant, her own hands threading through the locks of his hair as their lips danced together. He didn’t seem to hold back, his actions feverish and wanting with every passing second, until their lips finally parted. When he did, her face was flushed and her chest rose and fell in tandem with his. Jumin grinned, almost wickedly, “I could never get tired of this gift.”

He leant down to continue what he had started, yet MC didn’t comply. She drew her head away from him, her eyes squinted and her lips pursed. “I don’t recall saying this was your gift.”

“Oh?” Her husband cocked an eyebrow as he gave her space to free herself from his grasp. “Can I expect my final gift soon?” He questioned as he watched her stand from the bed and cross the room.

“Patients is a virtue,” she retorted with a tease, wagging her finger in his direction. Jumin rolled his eyes, sighing as he leant back on the palms of his hands; patients was in fact a virtue, he’d told her those words many times before. MC fiddled within the draws of her dresser for awhile, producing a small box and a tiny card alongside it. She held the items close to her chest, smiling as she moved to stand before him.

“A new pen?” Jumin humoured, eyeing the shape of the wrapped box.

MC gasped quietly at his words, whining like a spoilt child, “No...” She perched herself on his lap, her eyes wandering from his and her cheeks now growing a pale pink. Her hesitation had returned. She almost seemed to stumble over her words as she spoke: “I want you to read the card and then open the box. No questions until you’ve done that, okay?”

Jumin chuckled at her innocence, sweeping the falling hair from her face and smiling sweetly. “Understood.” He held out his hands in silence, waiting for MC to place the items in his hands with care. He placed the box down beside him, opening the note and reading it carefully. His face contorted at the words, his eyebrows furrowing: ‘Today is a special day but there will be many more to come. I can’t wait to meet you. Make sure you take care of mummy.’ Jumin’s eyes were up in an instant, his mouth agape as he attempted to question her.

However, MC wouldn’t allow it, protesting a strong ‘Nuh-uh’ as she thrusted the box into his hands. He froze for a moment, his eyes shifting slowly down to the gift in his hand. The bow on top was a dull maroon- decorated immaculately like he’d expect from her. He lifted the lid cautiously, his fingers shifting the tissue paper to one side until he could see the contents. With his thumb and his forefinger, Jumin pulled the plastic from the box- a white stick tipped with a pink cap. He looked closer to the details. A display. Two lines. A positive pregnancy test. He dropped it at once, everything falling deathly silent as his eyes trailed up to her now watery eyes. He felt his words catch at the back of his throat: “Are- are you...?” MC nodded vigorously, her lips curving into the most joyous smiled he’d ever seen on her face. Jumin held her cheeks within his palms, his tender lips gracing her own before he stopped to actually catch a sight of her face. Tears rolled down her cheeks despite the warm smile on her face. “My love,” he cooed with care, his thumbs wiping away the tears, “please don’t cry.”

She shook away his worry, her smile returning to her flushed face. “No, no. I’m nothing but happy.”

“Then why the tears?” Jumin’s hand threaded through her hair and she leant into the touch. “I can’t even begin to explain how wonderful this is.”

“I... I know,” MC took a deep breath and furrowed her eyebrows, “It’s just been playing on my mind for awhile now.”

He paused at her words for a second, he hadn’t stopped to think about how long she’d known; to him this was new, having imagined knowing this a week ago he couldn’t begin to think about how things would have changed. “How far gone are you?”

“Oh... Nine weeks. I only found out a couple of weeks ago though. The first thing I wanted to do was tell you, but with your birthday coming up I though I’d wait.”

“You had no need to worry,” he intertwined his hand with her own, “I’ll always be with you.”

MC smiled warmly at his offer, moving to rest her head upon his chest. “I know... It’s just that things are going to change.”

Jumin stroked a hand down the length of her hair, humming peacefully to himself. “Of course it will. That’s not necessarily a bad thing though, is it?”

A silence fell between them as her mind wondered once again. Her husband moved back slightly, prompting MC to sit up once more. Her teeth played with her bottom lip, before she sighed heavily: “I don’t want to raise a child while travelling constantly, Jumin...”

“What my father had said?” Things began to make sense for Jumin all at once: her apparent disagreement with the idea of travelling was well rooted. She nodded reluctantly at his words. He held her chin within his fingers, his gaze softening at her face of guilt. “Of course you don’t have to. We’ll stay here. I’m sure my father will understand; he’ll want his grandson raised well.”

He placed a careful hand against her stomach, eliciting a small laugh and letting her smile return. “Grandson?”

“Of course. He’ll be just like his father, but with his mother’s looks,” Jumin humoured, pressing his lips against her’s.

“Really?” She kissed him carelessly, her breath pricking at his skin. “I think it’s a girl... Kind and gentle, as smart as her father.”

“An amazing child, regardless. Our child.”

#mystic messenger #mysme #jumin x mc #mystic messenger jumin han #mysme jumin #mc mystic messenger #mc myseme #mystic messenger drabble #mysme drabble #mystic messenger headcanon #jumin week #jumin week 2019

87 notes · View notes

1-1snailxd-art · 5 years

Text

The Shield to your Sword

Masterlist ———- Chapter 3

Warnings: swearing, minor injury (please message me if more need to be added)

word count: 4483

Tag Support Team - Thank you for your support 💜

@small-reptile-cake @daflangstlairde @quoth-the-sparrow @it-me-the-phi @soul-of-a-vixen @the-real-wholesome-bitch @phe-purple-parade-ts @littleladynightshade

Summary: Virgil and Roman spend some time in their secluded hideaway in the Queen’s gardens. The hedges shield them from prying eyes….right? .

______________________________

Chapter 4: Not-so-Secret Garden

The chirps of insects and rustling leaves in the garden were disturbed every few moments as Virgil sucked in a shaky breath; working to control the sobs that shook his core. Roman’s hands had been careful to not put pressure on Virgil’s injured arm; unsure of how healed the wound was. Instead, one arm secured the sobbing man in his lap, while the other held his shoulder and his thumb shifted up and down with his breathing; encouraging Virgil to breathe in time with the movement.

Leaning his head back, Roman stared at the wall opposite them. If he got closer, he was sure he would see their names scratched into the stone along with runes for friendship and forever. The boys had often escaped the outside world by sneaking into their little hideaway. It was the closest they got to an escape before Roman could request trips out to the town or the forest beyond the city’s outer barrier. A smile crept onto his face as he recalled the time he stole a whole cake from the kitchen and Adara had chased him and Virgil all through the castle, only to lose them in the maze of his mother’s garden. They had feasted in the hollow oak until their stomachs ached. In his mind, this was a place just for the two of them; free from expectations and watching eyes. A place he and Virgil could be equals. A place he could admit his struggles with writing and reading runes. A place to just be.

Glancing down, Roman saw Virgil’s eyes sit half open as his breathing finally seemed to steady and move in time with his own.

“I know you can’t recall your nightmares,” Roman kept his voice soft; thumb still keeping the pace for their breathing, “but you should know you are not alone. I have them too; nothing like yours obviously, but nightmares all the same.”

Virgil didn’t respond, eyes unmoving as he kept his gaze locked on the scene before him. Roman sighed and continued talking, needing to get his own thoughts out.

“I had a nightmare last night. It was so real I swore I was awake and facing the dark sorcerer in my chambers. He looked like half his face had merged with a snake and claimed I would die or meet the same fate as my brother or something crazy like that. I threw a knife at him and nothing happen. He just stood there with a knife in his head like it was nothing.”

“You don’t have a brother.”

Calm washed over Roman at Virgil’s response. Talking was the first step in him ‘waking up’ after a nightmare.

“That’s what I said. He claimed it was a message from the fates, but, A, I don’t believe in them, and B, I have no siblings.”

“Sorry I wasn’t there for you.”

“It’s ok, sleepyhead,” he shifted his body slightly as Virgil’s weight started to make his legs go to sleep, “you’re here now.”

“I’m meant to help you, not the other way around.”

“Says who?”

“Your-“ Virgil cut himself off, almost letting the truth slide from his mouth like melted butter. “Says everyone.”

“Not me.” Virgil tilted his head to look up at Roman; taking in his hazel eyes with gold flecks ringing his pupil. “I would never say that, nor do I believe it to be true. We help each other. Regardless of what others think, you don’t have to do anything for me. Heck, if you wanted to leave, I wouldn’t stop you.”

“Really?”

“Really, really. I mean, it’s not like I own you or anything.”

Virgil’s eyes widened and Roman found himself lost in their smoky design; a mix of blue-grey and a golden brown. It was almost impossible to truly describe their colour and being so close he took in every change in pigmentation. Virgil stared back with a similar intensity, mind holding onto Roman’s words and trying to force Rupert’s cruel comments aside.

“I… I don’t want to leave.” Virgil finally managed to make his mouth move, becoming aware of just how long they had been staring at each other in silence. A dull ache crept into his chest as the potion started to wear off and his heart raced with the emotional intensity of the situation.

“I don’t want you to either,” absently Roman’s hand repositioned on Virgil’s shoulder and slowly shifted down towards his wound. “Though I would love to leave the city more often. Would you join me if I did?”

“That’s a stupid question. You know I wou-“ Virgil hissed and snapped his eyes shut as Roman instinctively pulled him closer and pressed his wound.

“Crap, sorry.” Roman reacted as though he had just burnt himself, quickly pulling his hand away. “I’m sorry. Shit, I got you bad, didn’t I?”

“It’s fine, Princey.” Shifting off Roman’s lap, Virgil carefully moved his arm as the pain radiated back to the source. He silently wished he had more magic to spare so he could reduce his discomfort.

“Can I see?” The question left them both with reddening cheeks; Roman quickly averting his gaze. "I-I just thought, I could, maybe, well, help? I did cause it."

Nodding, Virgil slowly removed his vest before slipping the deep violet fabric over his head; exposing his pale frame. It always confused Roman how someone so thin and frail in appearance, could be so strong and nimble. Roman’s broad shoulders and solid figure were never overlooked; while many visiting fighters had learnt the hard way to not judge a book by its cover when it came to his smaller friend.

It made it hard for Roman to see his arm a flurry of colour as he pulled the basic bandage away, though the gash itself was barely visible now; sutures completely faded away.

“I didn’t realise I got you that deep,” Roman looked down; even more aware of how his actions had affected his friend.

“It’s fine,” Virgil assured, fingers gently running along the fine scar line. “I was tired and used more magic than I should have. This wouldn’t have even been an issue if I had been more cautious with my own magic. You are not to blame.”

The lie caused his heart to ache and throat to tighten. Part of Virgil desperately wanted to admit the trauma King Rupert had afforded him, while the other wanted to scream at Roman for being an idiot and not keeping his guard up.

“It was foolish of me to act so rashly to impress my father.”

Virgil’s head snapped up, “Roman, no. Don’t-”

“It’s the truth though,” crossing his legs, Roman tucked clenched fists into his lap and kept his gaze locked on the ground. “I should have held back a bit. I knew you were tired. It wasn’t fair.”

Virgil scoffed and reached out a hand to grip the prince’s shoulder.

“Life isn’t fair, Ro.” Roman looked up, hair just obstructing his vision as he met Virgil’s eyes. “The real world won’t hold back. This just means that we need to keep training so I - no - we, can protect each other.”

Scooping his hair back, Roman mimicked the half smile on Virgil’s face and nodded. “Two Together?”

“Four forever.”

They both chuckled at their childish saying as Roman reached for his satchel and pulled out a round container; unscrewing it to reveal a clear waxy substance.

“Put that away, Roman.” Virgil whined as the Prince shifted closer. “You shouldn’t waste your healing gels on this.”

“Does it look like I really care?” He replied; moving to Virgil’s side and carefully cradling his arm in one hand while the other used two fingers to massage the ointment into his skin.

Virgil scrunched his face up at the action before he felt Roman’s soul magic penetrating his skin and soothing the throbbing in his arm. Eyes closing, Virgil focused on feeling every move Roman made; picturing golden strings of magic weaving through his muscles and blood vessels to restore them to their normal state. His magic was different to Logan and Haefen’s; it was warm and made his skin tingle with electricity.

Roman’s brow furrowed as he barely sensed Virgil’s magic at all. “You weren’t kidding about overdoing the magic, huh?”

“Would I lie?” Virgil opened his eyes and glanced to the side lazily.

“No.” That hit Virgil harder than the weight to his chest; blood chilling instantly. “I guess this means we won’t be going outside the city this afternoon.”

It took a moment for Virgil to generate enough saliva to soothe his dry throat and get his words out. “I-I didn’t know we – ahem – had an outing booked.”

“Oh, there’s none of that anymore,” Virgil’s widening eyes matched the beam that spread across Roman’s face. “Father has finally approved my request to travel freely and take on missions further afield. We’ve got our freedom, Virgil.”

On the outside, Virgil joined Roman in expressing their excitement for traveling and taking on bandits and invaders; but his true feelings were kept under wraps. Sure, the watchful knights that followed them were judgmental and rude to him whenever Roman’s back was turned, but they were their safety net. Any trouble they came across, the knights stepped in and took majority of the heat of battle. Without them, Virgil would need to defend the Prince solo. Colour seemed to drain from the world as he was overwhelmed with thoughts of what could possibly happen while out alone.

“Virgil? Hey, Virgil?”

Snapping fingers brought the world back into focus and Virgil shook his head to clear his thoughts.

“You okay? You’re looking paler than usual.”

“I’m fine.” Rustling leaves drew Virgil’s attention to the shifting shadows. “The afternoon is slipping away.”

“And?” Satisfied with his efforts, Roman offered Virgil his shirt; bandage obviously no longer required.

“We should be at the training ground or,” he slipped his shirt back on, “crafting, or visiting the kitchens or something-.”

Virgil went to stand, but Roman grabbed his hand and fixed him with a stern look. “Uh-ah; We are staying right here.”

“But-“

“I felt your magic, Virge. We’re taking the afternoon off.”

As the Prince laid down on the fallen leaves, Virgil sighed. “Can we get food at least?”

“Got ya covered,” he gestured to the satchel and Virgil reached inside to retrieved two apples. “Lay with me, Vee. Adventure can wait for another day.”

The sloping ground in the hollow, paired with the layer of leaf litter, made the firm ground bearable to lay on. Side by side, they munched on their apples; Roman rambling about all the places he wanted to visit, the people he imagined meeting and the eventual unit he and Virgil would construct. It seemed nothing was going to deter him; a fact the pleased and terrified Virgil all at once. He did his best to keep his mind focused on Roman, but he couldn’t stop his thoughts from straying down a negative path on occasion. As exhaustion took hold, he focused solely on the sound of Roman’s voice; not the words, just the sound, until his eyes slid shut and he was asleep. Roman paused mid-sentence as he heard a sigh from beside him and couldn’t help but smile at the peace on his friend’s face. Words failed to describe the pleasant feeling that sat on his chest as he shuffled closer until he could slip his hand into Virgil’s; instinct allowing their fingers to intertwine.

“I’ll always protect you,” Roman whispered, allowing his own eyes to slowly close. “I promise.”

*click here to see art from this scene*

******************************

Perched on the stone wall, a crow stared down at the unlikely pair. It watched the frail one cry. It heard the taller one speak. It examined their reactions as a shirt was removed and continued to stare until the pair were asleep and content. The wind ruffled its black feathers; wings opening to use the draft to quickly take flight. After a final circling of the hidden pair, the crow took off towards the eastern side of the city; sunlight revealing deep green runes patterning its wings.

Swooping down, the crow nipped at some villagers’ hats before crashing through reeds that covered an already broken window. The man inside snatched a blade from his dressing table and thrust it towards the chair the crow had perched itself on; surprise quickly replaced by annoyance.

“What do you want?” He reached for a red cloak with white banding and the guards crest and began fastening it around his shoulders. “Haven’t you broken enough of my stuff already?”

The animal appeared to almost smile, tilting its head with a soft caw before flying over to the guards table and pecking at a stained wooden box.

“Piss off.” Slamming his blade down, the guard turned away and began securing his belt around his waist. “Fly yourself home, I’ve got too many shifts to be wasting my magic on you.”

Not liking the guard’s tone, the crow flew over to the table and sat on their sword handle.

“Hey!” As the guard waved the bird off, it revealed the mess of droppings it had left on the hilt and table. “Fucking little shit!”

Cawing in delight, the crow avoided the guards waving hands until the man’s eyes glowed and a surge of air forced it to the ground. Strong hands pinned the bird’s wings to its sides as the guard collected it from the floor.

“Look who’s laughing now,” he beamed.

The moment of victory was short lived as the crow pecked his ungloved hands, causing blood to quickly well from the cuts its beak had caused. Letting the crow go, the man hissed and shook his hand before inspecting the long thin cuts.

“Fine, I’ll send you back.” Grabbing a cloth, he wrapped it around his hand and turned to the table; the crow quickly returning to peck at the wooden box again. “This is the last time though.”

Bowing its head, the crow cawed softly before looking back up as the man retrieved a complex rune on fresh parchment from the box. The paper looked frail and brittle; the material not suited to holding such a large amount of magic from the rune cast to it. Taking a small scroll from the box as well, the guard secured it to the bird’s leg before it carefully hopped onto the runes centre.

“If I see your face again,” the man growled as he braced his hands on the papers edge, “I won’t hesitate to gut you.”

The crow let out a final caw before the guard activated the rune, causing the bird to vanish before the paper burst into a puff of smoke.

Coughing and gasping, the guard slipped to the ground; spent from using the large quantity of magic in one burst. Though they appeared to not be beyond their twenties; in truth they were nearing their ninetieth birthday. Both a blessing and a curse of being a sorcerer, a youthful look that took longer to fade.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

The front door of the house shook with the force of the knocks from the other side.

“You ready yet, Damien?” Came a stern feminine voice from the other side. “The King is conducting assessments this evening and I’m not showing up solo.”

Damien carefully stood and dusted off his uniform. “Just a moment, Angelica.”

“Hurry up.”

Damien looked in the mirror at his tired eyes; sunken and darkening from his sudden exhaustion. Regardless of how his body felt, his heart had a weight lifted. His debt was paid. His secret was safe. He would have at least a few more years in the city before needing to move into solitude as his body would inevitably shift rapidly to match his true age. The sorcerer ban had been tough for the man to endure, but he was one of few to accept it as a natural order of the kingdom. It meant he kept his life; be it a tough one pretending to have limited magic.

Exiting his house, Damien walked with his partner through the city streets towards the castle. He wondered what information the crow had gathered this time and how the information would be used. After three years of being harassed by the creature, he still questioned what its masters end goal was. No action against the kingdom had been taken in three years, which seemed odd considering the amount of information he was sure the bird had recovered over that time.

“Did you take on an extra patrol or something?” Angelica questioned, slightly annoyed with Damien’s slowing pace.

“Not an official one,” he lied, pushing his legs to move faster and catch up to his partner.

“You better wake up by the time the King comes around. I can’t afford a pay cut because you got greedy.”

“Don’t worry. The assessment will be a piece of cake.”

The two guards continued in silence; both minds now focused on the assessment and how the King would choose to test them that afternoon.

******************************

The sun was beginning to speed up its descent when Virgil stirred and slowly slid his eyes open, turning his head to see Roman sleeping next to him. It took a moment for him to realise they were holding hands and he resisted the urge to pull away in fear. It wasn’t that he didn’t have feelings for the Prince; it felt like he always had, but he knew it wasn’t an option. The King would never allow their relationship to be anything more than what it already was; he’d made that very clear to Virgil directly, and with the many young royals that were invited to visit the castle since Roman turned 16. It was almost comical to stand by and watch ladies, lords and non-binary royalty try and win his Prince over. Roman was an absolute flirt during all meals and planned outings, but the moment guards were out of earshot he set them straight. He had no interest in marriage for the sake of kingdom relations, and nothing was going to come from a three-day visit and the offer of an alliance or treasures. Honestly, a small part of Virgil relished every suitor Roman turned down; while the rest of him feared what King Rupert would do if the Prince continued to deny the advances of young royals.

Hands still entwined, Virgil savoured the moment of tranquillity before rational thought returned and he attempted to pull away.

“Uh-ah,” Roman squeezed Virgil’s hand and smiled over at his friend, “don’t try and sneak away now.”

“I wasn’t sneaking away.” As he sat up, Virgil was pleasantly surprised to find his chest didn’t protest the movement at all.

“Then what were you planning?” Roman questioned, sitting up and refusing to release the others hand.

“I was only going to get some dirt to rub on your face. Would be a major improvement.”

Laughing, Roman stood up before carefully pulling Virgil onto his feet; hands never letting go. “Jealous of what you don’t have?”

“Thankful is more like it.”

Roman grasped at his chest like he had been struck by an arrow. “Oh, you wound me, Virgil.”

“Save the dramatics for your suitors, Princey.” Finally pulling his hand free, Virgil searched the area for his satchel. “We should get back and get ready for dinner. Where’s my bag?”

“You didn’t have one.”

Virgil scraped his hand down his face and groaned, “I must have left it at Haefen’s.”

“Why the long face?” Roman questioned, pulling his satchel over his shoulder and following Virgil towards the bushes that concealed them.

“Nothing. Let’s just go. I’m starving.”

Virgil held the bushes aside for Roman this time and they quickly hurried towards the physician’s quarters before they started to lose light.

A smile pulled at Alexandra’s cheeks as she spotted her two boys weaving through the garden from the window in her chambers. Chest slightly looser thanks to Clara’s meticulous work and consistent care throughout the past few weeks. Guilt pulled at her heart strings as she watched them disappear from view, and she tried to catch a glimpse from the other window.

“Is everything alright, your highness?” Clara stepped back into the room with a tray of bowls and set them down onto a nearby table.

“Fine thank you, Clara.” Realising the boys were out of sight, the Queen moved to sit in the padded chair by the table. “I just saw Roman and Virgil in the garden, is all. I haven’t been able to see them in a while; especially Virgil. He looks like he’s grown.”

“Children do grow fast.” The maid commented, helping the Queen loosen her gown to expose her chest. “My Logan has certainly turned into a fine young physician and I swear they are different every time I have a chance to be with them.”

Alexandra nodded and sat patiently as Clara stuck a rune parchment to one side of her chest, which had a fine thread that ran from that parchment to a second rune submerged in a warm bowl of liquid. A similar set up occurred on her other side, only the stringed rune sat in an empty bowl.

“My heart just longs to be with them again, Clara.” Leaning back, Alexandra sighed deeply and tucked a loose brown curl behind her ear. “I know Rupert is more protective these days, but I’m beginning to feel like a prisoner in my own castle.”

Clara kept her gaze down as she mixed herbs into a cup of warm water and passed it to the Queen. In truth, Rupert had given orders for no unnecessary visitors to the chambers and Clara was instructed to not give the Queen permission to leave unless she was certain of her health. With her family at risk, she had taken no chances in letting the Queen out; but looking at the sad woman before her, she couldn’t keep her locked up any longer.

“Why don’t we see how this treatment goes,” Clara offered. “If you feel up to it, you can attend dinner with your family.”

The joy that shone in the woman’s eyes was worth the risk, as she accepted and thanked her maid repeatedly. As the runes started to glow with Clara’s soul magic, the Queen relaxed into her chair; runes pulling the warm solution from the bowl to clear building mucus from her lungs. By the time the procedure was over, the once empty bowl was full of a yellowing liquid; thankfully it was paler than Clara expected, and she was happy to note there seemed to be less than their previous treatment.

“Some positive signs here, your majesty.” Alexandra was quick to redress herself while Clara packed up. “Seems you are on the mend.”

“That is brilliant news,” she beamed, meeting Clara’s eyes with a request obvious in her own.

Sighing, Clara gave her a knowing nod. “I’ll inform the King and kitchen of your attendance to dinner. Rest for now and I’ll return to help you change.”

As the room filled with the soft glow of sunset, Alexandra rested soundly on her bed. Clothes for the evening were laid out in preparation and Clara hurried home to prepare a wax for burning in the dining room to keep the air clear. The maze of inner halls were well worn by Clara and she reached home in record time, panting slightly as she hurried inside.

“What is it this-” Logan turned from their position at the mixing table, half expecting it to be Virgil bursting in again, only to be shocked by their mother’s breathless entrance. “Mother? Is everything alright?”

“I need a cleansing wax,” she moved forward and placed a greeting kiss on their cheek. “Do you have any made?”

Twisting their lips to the side, Logan glanced around their mass of cupboards and calculated current supplies in their head. “We have one full candle and enough supplies for three more.”

“I should only require two for tonight, but if you have the time to spare, I would appreciate the extra being made.”

Nodding, Logan tidied their current project for the frost lilies and set about retrieving supplies for mixing the healing candles. It was rare their mother returned home so early in the evening; Logan often retiring to bed before her return. They relished in the moment to work together, even if it was rushed and mostly silent.

As their mother slowly stirred the liquid wax, strands of greying hair framing her face, Logan held out a mug of tea.

“I can finish it off, mother. Savour the opportunity to take a break.”

“You are a blessing, Logan.” She willingly took up the mug and stepped aside for Logan to take over; tired eyes filled with gratitude. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around much lately. The Queen has required constant attention.”

“No need to apologise for completing your duties,” they smiled and gestured towards a waiting chair. “Now, please, sit and rest while you can.”

The ageing woman complied and sipped silently at her tea as she watched her child work, in awe of just how skilled they had become. A stumbling child they were no more, now a capable adult and a physician growing in skill. Pouring the wax into a prepared mould, Logan set the candle onto a cooling rune to quicken the setting process.

“It shall be ready in a few minutes, and you can return to the Queens side.”

“Thank you, my dear.” Standing, Clara pulled Logan into a tight hug; suddenly aware of her much shorter stature as she rested her head on their chest. “Words cannot express my love and adoration for you.”

“Your actions speak volumes, Mother. You needn’t worry.”

Haefen opened the front door and was pleasantly surprised to see his family in an affectionate embrace.

“Well isn’t this a pleasant scene to return home to.”

Logan laughed and extended an arm. “Care to complete the picture?”

“Don’t mind if I do.” He chuckled and wrapped his own arms around his family, planting a gentle kiss atop his wife’s head.

The love the physicians shared was without description. Each parent passing their strengths and wisdom onto their child and watching in awe as they grew beyond their own skill levels. Logan didn’t quite understand why, but they had a feeling moments such as this would be even harder to come by soon. It unsettled them greatly and made letting their parents go even harder; but Clara had a job to return to and they had more items to craft. Watching their mother collect the candles, Logan hated the feeling sitting heavily in their gut. They committed the farewell kiss and goodbye from their mother to memory; still unsure as to why they felt moments like this wouldn’t happen again.

______________________________

End Note:

Oh, hello again. Nice to see you. Hope your day/night has been pleasant. I was going to add more to this chapter, but then I remembered I wasn’t going to make this a long one and quickly cut back. It was nice to give the boys a happy moment together; all be it only a brief moment.

So, I’m looking to get some more art done because the Remy and Patton one just turned out so well. I’m looking forward to working with an artist again to bring the commission to life (just had to fight the internet bank lords first before I said “hey, can you please bring this cute scene to life.”)

As per usual, I won’t give an exact timeline on the next chapter. I’ve got Father’s Day this coming weekend (might get to see my fam) and then I may be preoccupied with work stuff (or I will procrastinate from work by writing more of this. Who really knows?).

Anyway, happy timezone friends 💜🐌

Next chapter

______________________________

What else has Snail done?

The Perfect Ring (oneshot -analogical proposal)

You Promised (oneshot - prinxiety angst/injury/near death)

Sides of a Hero (Completed Fic - sides are fusions of impulses and aspects of Thomas. Virgil has a depressing past that he is forced to face thanks to Deceit and Rage. Was canon compliant at the time of completion)

Libraries are for Meetings (ongoing WIP - Human/University au with Royality and developing Analogical. Slow burn and heavily focused on a grieving group of friends that Virgil slowly becomes a part of to better himself.)

Check out my other blog for random fandom reblogs and stuff @snail-giggles . Always happy to interact and chat on that blog too 💜🐌

41 notes · View notes

rpgsandbox · 5 years

Link

The dark and malevolent forces of the Cthulhu Mythos mostly ignore humankind. But these entities are also shrewd opportunists. Many of them see humans as a resource to be harvested, corrupted or enlisted for their dark plots. Humanity, with all its noble aspirations, has many flaws. Greed, lust, envy, hatred and fear are ripe fruits for these forces to exploit. Division and separation makes the humans easier to control. While the best of humankind fights for just laws and civilization, those who cling to power and privilege stand ready to quash protections for those who need them most. In the shadows of human injustice lurk loathsome, inhuman entities. As investigators square off against the worst aspects of mankind, they also find themselves entangled with the parasitic powers of the Mythos.

Welcome to An Inner Darkness, from Golden Goblin Press.

This is collection of Classic 1920’s era scenarios of 7th edition the Call of Cthulhu Roleplaying Game (published by Chaosium, Inc) with several goals in mind. We hope to present well researched, historically accurate and challenging adventures, with a slightly darker, harsher and more brutal tone than our fans might be used to. For Golden Goblin Press, this will be a more mature book, one focused on adult themes, designed to spark deep conversations among your players for years to come.

These scenarios will of course feature the malignant taint of the Cthulhu Mythos, but at the forefront of each will be one or more examples of social injustice, societal corruption, and mankind’s inhumanity to man. The 1920’s was a period of great social upheaval in America, when the borders between classes, races, and genders were changed. In this time of social upheaval and chaos, eldritch forces found fertile ground to exploit us. Mankind is never so vulnerable than when we are divided from within.

When this Lousy War is Over, by Brian M. Sammons – Arkham, Massachusetts, 1923. At the local chapter of the Veterans of Foreign Wars association, men who fought in the “war to end all wars” gather together, seeking a bit of solace from those who’ve shared similar experiences. Many are wounded in body, in mind, and in spirit. Many suffer from horrifying nightmares, violent outbursts, disfiguring injuries, or alcoholism, but their pain and struggles are mostly ignored by society. They are reminded that the war is over, and told to just “get over it” by a public who finds it all too easy to judge. Then, chapter members start to mysteriously die in violent and terrible ways, with clues pointing to the occult, possibly involving a member of the association no less! Can the investigators find those responsible and stop them, before it’s too late?

They Are From Away, by Charles Gerard - Bangor, Maine, 1923. Maine has become a major battleground for the Ku Klux Klan. Protestant nativists have grown fearful about the recent influx of Catholic Immigrants, mostly Irish and French-Canadians. This provides the KKK with fertile ground for spreading their message of hate, division, and violence. Enter Eugene Farnsworth, a charismatic former stage magician, hypnotist and filmmaker, now known as King Kleagle, the head KKK recruiter for Maine. He hosts “wholesome” public events while spearheading an aggressive recruitment drive, making alliances with area politicians and heads of industry. Meanwhile, macabre, inexplicable and unnatural events begin to occur, aimed at humiliating and terrorizing the area’s Catholic citizens. Investigators must discover if there is a link between the two, and find a way to stop it if they can.

Fire Without Light, by Helen Gould - Tulsa, Oklahoma, 1922. Less than a year has passed since the Tulsa Race Massacre, when the wealthiest black community in the United States was destroyed and hundreds of innocent people were murdered by rampaging white mobs. Though most of the 10,000 black residents left Tulsa, some remained to rebuild their devastated community. Now tensions are on the rise once again. A new pastor and his wife have arrived, preaching hate and violence to the white population. Their congregation is growing at an alarming rate, and violence is spilling out from their church and into the streets. Strangely, even families and friends of the same race are turning against each other. Something very wrong is going on here. Investigators must tread carefully to discover just who - or what - is fanning the flames, pushing the citizens of Tulsa towards another wave of catastrophic violence.

A Fresh Coat Of White Paint, by Jeff Moeller - Los Angeles, California, 1931. Early in the Great Depression, the U.S. institutes its first mass deportation policy, supported by a cross-section of interests such as racist nationalists, eugenicists, paternalistic "charities", and labor unions "looking out for their own." This leads to a roundup of thousands of ethnically Mexican families, many of them U.S. citizens, carried out federal employees, local police, various "charities", and outright vigilante groups. The deportees were (sometimes) given summary hearings, detained in makeshift conditions, and then loaded onto trains. On the outskirts of Los Angeles, one such "charity" is refurbishing an old prison to "give the unfortunates somewhere to stay." However, this long abandoned facility has a dark past, which is quickly becoming a horrible, otherworldly nightmare for those interred there. Can the investigators get to the bottom of things in time to save the prisoners?

A Family Way, by Oscar Rios – New York, New York, 1925. The investigators must come to the aid of a dear friend, a student at Columbia University. She’s found herself "in trouble" after what should have been a harmless girls' night out. Her group ended up drinking and dancing with the wrong sort of fellas, the kind willing to slip them a mickey and take what they wanted from their unconscious victims. Now the girls need help, as the authorities won't act, or even take their stories seriously. These men have deep pockets, powerful allies, and dark secrets. When the men return with offers of marriage and gifts of strange, pale gold jewelry, it becomes clear they aren't the sort to take no for an answer. There aren’t many options for girls in their “condition”, and one of the few happens to be illegal. But your friend just wants this nightmare to be over, if such a thing is still even possible.

Dreams of Silk, by Christopher Smith Adair (Stretch Goal bonus scenario) – Pennsylvania, 1922. The cosmetics industry is growing fast, as the public’s obsession with youth and beauty grows. As profits soar and businesses expand workers at such companies suffer due to lax regulations and poor conditions. At Hempstead Cosmetics, located in Brights Mill, Pennsylvania, a state infamous among labor advocates, conditions are especially bad. Local government turns a blind eye to protect their economic boom, ignoring any indiscretions or complaints against chemist and owner Mervyn Hempstead. Consumers marvel at their newest skin cream, promising to give a complexion as smooth as dreams of silk, and the youthful glow of Imelda Hempstead, Mervyn’s wife and chief model. Meanwhile, his employee’s bodies and minds deteriorate and their complaints of rashes and troubled sleep are ignored. But things are much worse than anyone can possibly imagine, as they are drawn into a web of literal nightmares as unspeakable horrors from beyond our reality are tied to Hempstead Cosmetics' “miraculous” secret ingredients.

Kickstarter campaign ends: Mon, April 15 2019 4:59 AM BST

Website: [Golden Goblin Press] [facebook]

#RPG #kickstarter #Call of Cthulhu #An Inner Darkness #Golden Goblin Press

24 notes · View notes

harry-leroy · 5 years

Note

Can you write something in the AU where Hal lives and gets to know his son? Just him playing with little Henry would be nice!

Hello! Thank you so much for the ask! I really appreciate it:).

So, this probably isn’t really what you were looking for, because the thing I wrote was real angsty, so get ready. Though, there’s a little cute moment in there that lasts for like five seconds. When I think about the Hal lives AU, I think that Hal and his son probably didn’t get along. Their conflicting personalities and the almost unbearable inheritance that lie before the prince would have driven a wedge of tension in between them. So that is what I explore here.

Also this AU needs a cute name like all of the other AUs have, because the Hal lives AU is almost always wholesome (except for this situation and I apologize). I think there’s some deep part of us that really wanted Hal to live because of all that could have been. Okay- done being deep. Please enjoy!��

“Shall not thou

and I, between Saint Denis and Saint George, compound

a boy, half French, half English, that shall go

to Constantinople and take the Turk by the beard?

Shall we not? What say’st thou, my fair flower de

Luce?” - HENRY V [V.ii].

A trinity stood before the prince, one that appeared battered, on edge, yet authoritative and pressing. It was not a good talk that young Harry was in for. His father, with his living brothers at his side, John and Humphrey, boded for ill chastisement. The great Fifth Henry was now nearly fifty years of age, and despite what he would have liked to believe, age did not do him well. With the weight of the whole world on his shoulders, and the recent illness of his beloved Catherine, he appeared shrunk down and aching.

Hope shifted on his feet, watching the king with pain in his eyes, as if preparing for derision of his character. Hal’s only son was just as crushed by weights of his own, one his own mind, and the other the fear that he would not be so graceful at carrying the whole world as his father seemed to be able to. The prince swallowed when his father dismissed his two uncles, leaving the two of them alone. He felt like his father’s glance was enough to knock him down and keep him there, for he hadn’t the will to defy him.

Hal stepped down to meet his son, who was almost fifteen, and although he was becoming a man, he was far from being a desirable heir, though it deeply pained Hal to admit it to himself. Though, it was a different errancy than what he had displayed as a boy. Where Hal burned too bright, Henry was lackluster.

“I was told that you were dismissed from sword practice this morning,” Hal disliked the words in his mouth. It wasn’t the first time that it had happened.

The prince seemed to lose focus on the words he was trying to form in his head, knowing there was no counterargument. It was true. He rubbed his rough, bandaged hands together, nervous from nearly nothing. Henry’s hands should have callused by now, but they hadn’t. Perhaps they would have if he didn’t bite and them when these nerves took over him.

Proceeding as he knew his son’s inability to argue, “Do you know just what lies before you? When I am dead, you will be king of England and France. You will be king of everything and all, and such inheritances must be defended with sword, Henry. When I am dead-”

Hal stopped. It was an old speech. When I am dead only made his son upset. Once, when they both had been younger, they rode up the Dover coast together, racing across the rocky sand, white cliff sides rushing by them. When his nine year old son had outraced him to the rock at the end of the beach, the two of them laughed, then looked solemnly together across the channel. France loomed in the gray mist beyond, settled in blood and bones of fallen soldiers.

“France will be yours one day, Henry. Did you know that?” Hal looked at his son in admiration, not fearing for the future then.

“Of course I do,” Henry said precociously, with the annoyance that a child exhibited when his parents doted too much on him. “You tell me every day,”

“When I am dead, Henry, France will be yours” Hal said, pride swelling in his breast as he looked back out onto the sea, gray and bleak to match the overcast sky. Though, this time, when he looked back at his son, Hal found him distraught.

“Please don’t die,” Henry said in a breath, the last he could exhale before tears fell down his cheeks, red from the harsh, cold wind.

Now, his son said nothing. He knew what death was now. He felt its hand far too often for his young age. It exhausted him to fight it off, drove his will mad and prone to quit. His eyes, which lacked his father’s stern darkness, were pale and blank. It was the same mental blankness that sent him out of sword practice that morning and instead to his books. Henry could read circles around his father. It was one of the few things that brought him joy to talk of, but books would not fight off the choleric French, stuck in the south, pressurized and itching for air. Hal was able to fight them off, but he feared greatly for his son.

“Henry,” Hal began again, trying a different approach, as his dying wife had suggested he do, for her sake. “I know it pains you to take up sword. I know that war… does not agree with you. I know it is hard for you, but you are the son of the king. My son. And the French will not yield. Please Henry, please try again tomorrow, for me. And if not for me, then for your mother,”

His son began to weep, though he tried to fight it off. Though, it was a fate he was entirely powerless to take arms against. A Henry born at Monmouth should win all. A Henry born at Windsor should lose all. The prince knew it better than anyone. The king watched in horrified shock, unsure of how to comfort his son, so rather than frighten him, he let his son cry. Though, something kicked at him to do something.

“As you say, Father. I will do it,” Henry said, looking up through pale, lost, and innocent eyes. “As you say,”

Ah hope that wasn’t too much for you but this was fun to write! I would love more requests or prompts. So send me what you got! And I’ll happily do anything from English history (doesn’t always have to be my boy Henry VI- though I do love him >-

12 notes · View notes

bardicbeetle · 5 years

Text

Perfect Child, Perfect Circles

Dahlia is the perfect child.

She is thirteen years old, goes to church with her parents on Sundays, does well in school, and spends her free time reading religious texts. Not the bible, no, no she’s memorized the placement of key readings from the King James and spits them politely when her mother asks an excerpt of her studies. Diligent and hardworking, that’s her, clean cut and modest and always ready for whatever her parents need.

But the religious texts she devours are seldom of what her parents would view as the wholesome sort, fingers slide down pages ear marking key incantations and circles. She has a multitude of clean covered books, whites and pale blues and deep browns. Gold inked words hiding things like Solomon’s Keys and accounts of old cults. Different takes on paganism, wicca and witchcraft, druidry and shamanism.

Out in public however, her mother’s wishes and whims are her every order.

She has come a long way from that chalk circle and daisy chain.

In more than one respect.

That is in public, that is in daylight.

Now, she slips out her second story window as night falls over the little suburb of Willow Springs. Barefoot, boots tucked under her arm, and bag over her shoulders, she makes her way down to the porch roof, and finally to the ground. The grass is damp and cold between her toes, and she allows herself a sigh of relief. The hard part is over.

Socks and boots go on, as she takes off down the pavement towards the little pine grove blocking the suburb in from the highway. As she goes, four others join her, all in various states of the exhilaration and fear that comes with sneaking out.

The five reach their destination without trouble, a clearing among the pines created by their own constant tending. Branches broken to create an overarching circle, needles swept away to make it easier to mark out boundary lines. In these first moments, none of them ever speak.

Juniper sweeps the needles that have fallen since their last visit. Sam starts setting out candles and driving the staff that would mark the center of their circle. Dahlia pulls cups and books and a bottle of apple cider out of her bag, and sets them at the foot of the staff. Alice begins drawing the circle, while Evan marks out the star within.

Alice leaves the circle just open enough for each of them to pass through, as they strip off shoes and socks and coats, leaving each child shivering slightly, more with anticipation than cold.

They file through the boundary line, and Dahlia closes the circle behind them. Each taking their place at a point of the star. They rotate every meeting, tonight it’s Dahlia at the head, in the position of spirit, of goddess and god, of the watcher, the priestess. She gives a nod to Junpier, standing in the position for air, to call the first element.

Juniper lights a small cone of incense, and places it in a wooden box in front of her. Voice low but even “Air, lend us your hand, offer us insight into the workings of the world, open our eyes to knowledge, and with it, freedom.” As she finished speaking, she cast one end of a yellow ribbon to Sam.

Sam drops a handful of dry pine needles into the cast iron pot of fire at his feet, they pop and crackle as he speaks “Fire, grant us your energy and passion, and the drive to continue expanding our powers despite the wishes of those around us.” One end of his red ribbon is tossed on to Alice.

Alice lowers the cup of water in her hands to the forest floor, smiling brightly in the candlelight “Water, teach us adaptability and allow us to feel our emotions in full as they come, without being overwhelmed.” A blue ribbon now links her to Evan.

Evan places a single stone in the planter before him, it contains a small rosebush. “Earth, help us build stability and build trust in one another as we work together in our pursuits, so that we may in turn offer our gifts to you.” With this, he throws one end of his green ribbon to Dahlia.

Eyes fixed on the staff in the center of the circle, Dahlia speaks in a whisper “Spirit, self, inner power and granter of wishes, aid us if you will in our circle tonight, heighten the elements and grant us true sight, let us experience the beauty and power of the magic we call.” One end of the purple ribbon is clasped tight in her hand, the other is thrown and caught by Juniper.

All at once, the clearing feels warmer, the stars brighter, the fire at Sam’s feet, and the flames of the candles all grow a little more inviting. As one the five children begin to move, circling clockwise as each whispers their own prayer, calling out to the powers they’ve invited to join them. Whispers merge and grow into what feels like a cacophony of shouts in voices no longer their own. A funnel of light feels as though it climbs up to the sky above them, dripping stardust and black matter alike. It feels heavy, feels like home, feels like flying.

At the height of this feeling, they cast the ribbons to the sky, towards the circle’s center, and one by one, each catches and hangs on the staff. Breathless, laughing in pure delight, they collapse in their spots, whispering “thank you’s” and departures to the elements in hoarse voices. Dahlia hands out cider in little cups, Evan breaks up banana bread and passes it around.

They sit and eat and talk about the feelings they share in these circles, until just as they set it out, they begin to unravel the space. Dirt is kicked up to block out the carved circle and star, and to fill up the hole where the staff is set. Candles are blown out, and extra wax buried, before they go back into a bag. Cups are wiped on shirts and put away, and slowly, the five return to their homes.

Dahlia climbs back into her room, stows her bag away under the bed, and after a quick visit to the bathroom to wash dirt from her fingers, lies down to sleep. Her head is heavy with ideas, swimming with thoughts and feelings from the night. She doesn’t think of the morning. Doesn’t care what the next day will bring. So long as these circles go on, she will be perfect, until she is strong.

@iwritethemworlds

@cjjameswriting

@the-ichor-of-ruination

@strawberryspaceship

@maabonwrites

#wip cauldron born #writing #writeblr #writeblr community #lsdente

16 notes · View notes

makerof150papermasks · 6 years

Text

Hamlet Mariofied Act 1 Scene 5

Boldened names refer to the Mario characters playing the roles. The character role names remain in the context of the play and its dialogue.

Mario = Hamlet

Donkey Kong = Ghost

Luigi = Horatio

Yoshi = Marcellus

Act I, Scene 5

Elsinore. The Castle. Another part of the fortifications.

Enter Donkey Kong and Mario, set to the level start jingle from the Donkey Kong arcade game.

Mario. Whither wilt thou lead me? Speak! I'll go no further.

DK. Mark me.

Hamlet. I will.

Donkey Kong. My hour is almost come,

When I to sulph'rous and tormenting flames

Must render up myself.

Mario. Alas, poor ghost!

DK. Pity me not, but lend thy serious hearing

To what I shall unfold.

Mario. Speak. I am bound to hear.

DK. So art thou to revenge, when thou shalt hear.

Mario. What?

DK. I am thy father's spirit,

Doom'd for a certain term to walk the night,

And for the day confin'd to fast in fires,

Till the foul crimes done in my days of nature

Are burnt and purg'd away. But that I am forbid

To tell the secrets of my prison house,

I could a tale unfold whose lightest word

Would harrow up thy soul, freeze thy young blood,

Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their spheres,

Thy knotted and combined locks to part,

And each particular hair to stand on end

Like quills upon the fretful porcupine.

But this eternal blazon must not be

To ears of flesh and blood. List, list, O, list!

If thou didst ever thy dear father love-

Mario. O God!

DK. Revenge his foul and most unnatural murther.

Mario. Murther?

DK. Murther most foul, as in the best it is;

But this most foul, strange, and unnatural.

Mario. Haste me to know't, that I, with wings as swift

As meditation or the thoughts of love,

May sweep to my revenge.

DK. I find thee apt;

And duller shouldst thou be than the fat weed

That rots itself in ease on Lethe wharf,

Wouldst thou not stir in this. Now, Hamlet, hear.

'Tis given out that, sleeping in my orchard,

A serpent stung me. So the whole ear of Denmark

Is by a forged process of my death

Rankly abus'd. But know, thou noble youth,

The serpent that did sting thy father's life

Now wears his crown.

Mario. O my prophetic soul!

My uncle?

DK. Ay, that incestuous, that adulterate beast, (Flashback begins of Donkey Kong and Bowser sitting against the Cheep-chomp fountain in front of the castle)

With witchcraft of his wit, with traitorous gifts-

O wicked wit and gifts, that have the power

So to seduce!- won to his shameful lust

The will of my most seeming-virtuous queen.

O Hamlet, what a falling-off was there, (Continuing with the flashback, Bowser reaches into his shell and grabs a banana tainted with Bowser Jr’s paint goop, then turns to hand the gift to a hapless Donkey Kong)

From me, whose love was of that dignity

That it went hand in hand even with the vow

I made to her in marriage, and to decline

Upon a wretch whose natural gifts were poor

To those of mine!

But virtue, as it never will be mov'd,

Though lewdness court it in a shape of heaven,

So lust, though to a radiant angel link'd,

Will sate itself in a celestial bed

And prey on garbage. (As Donkey Kong proceeds to stomach the banana Bowser lent him, a tremor quakes within, causing the then-king to begin exhaling swoopin’ stus and a towering black Polluted Piranha before falling to his death)

But soft! methinks I scent the morning air.

Brief let me be. Sleeping within my orchard,

My custom always of the afternoon,

Upon my secure hour thy uncle stole,

With juice of cursed hebona in a vial,

And in the porches of my ears did pour

The leperous distilment; whose effect

Holds such an enmity with blood of man

That swift as quicksilver it courses through

The natural gates and alleys of the body,

And with a sudden vigour it doth posset

And curd, like eager droppings into milk,

The thin and wholesome blood. So did it mine;

And a most instant tetter bark'd about,

Most lazar-like, with vile and loathsome crust

All my smooth body.

Thus was I, sleeping, by a brother's hand

Of life, of crown, of queen, at once dispatch'd;

Cut off even in the blossoms of my sin,

Unhous'led, disappointed, unanel'd,

No reckoning made, but sent to my account (After extinguishing the grime expelled by the now-deceased Donkey Kong, Bowser crouches by the body to appear as though he mourns, thus ending the flashback)

With all my imperfections on my head.

Mario. O, horrible! O, horrible! most horrible!

DK. If thou hast nature in thee, bear it not.

Let not the royal bed of Denmark be

A couch for luxury and damned incest.

But, howsoever thou pursuest this act,

Taint not thy mind, nor let thy soul contrive

Against thy mother aught. Leave her to heaven,

And to those thorns that in her bosom lodge

To prick and sting her. Fare thee well at once.

The glowworm shows the matin to be near

And gins to pale his uneffectual fire.

Adieu, adieu, adieu! Remember me. Exit.

Mario. O all you host of heaven! O earth! What else?

And shall I couple hell? Hold, hold, my heart!

And you, my sinews, grow not instant old,

But bear me stiffly up. Remember thee?

Ay, thou poor ghost, while memory holds a seat

In this distracted globe. Remember thee?

Yea, from the table of my memory

I'll wipe away all trivial fond records,

All saws of books, all forms, all pressures past

That youth and observation copied there,

And thy commandment all alone shall live

Within the book and volume of my brain,

Unmix'd with baser matter. Yes, by heaven!

O most pernicious woman!

O villain, villain, smiling, damned villain!

My tables! Meet it is I set it down

That one may smile, and smile, and be a villain;

At least I am sure it may be so in Denmark. [Writes.]

So, uncle, there you are. Now to my word:

It is 'Adieu, adieu! Remember me.'

I have sworn't.

Luigi. [within] My lord, my lord!

Enter Luigi and Yoshi.

Yoshi. Lord Hamlet!

Luigi. Heaven secure him!

Mario. So be it!

Yoshi. Illo, ho, ho, my lord!

Mario. Hillo, ho, ho, boy! Come, bird, come.

Yoshi. How is't, my noble lord?

Luigi. What news, my lord?

Yoshi. O, wonderful!

Luigi. Good my lord, tell it.

Mario. No, you will reveal it.

Luigi. Not I, my lord, by heaven!

Yoshi. Nor I, my lord.

Mario. How say you then? Would heart of man once think it?

But you'll be secret?

Yoshi. [with Luigi] Ay, by heaven, my lord.

Mario. There's neer a villain dwelling in all Denmark

But he's an arrant knave.

Luigi. There needs no ghost, my lord, come from the grave

To tell us this.

Mario. Why, right! You are in the right!

And so, without more circumstance at all,

I hold it fit that we shake hands and part;

You, as your business and desires shall point you,

For every man hath business and desire,

Such as it is; and for my own poor part,

Look you, I'll go pray.

Luigi. These are but wild and whirling words, my lord.

Mario. I am sorry they offend you, heartily;

Yes, faith, heartily.

Luigi. There's no offence, my lord.

Mario. Yes, by Saint Patrick, but there is, Horatio,

And much offence too. Touching this vision here,

It is an honest ghost, that let me tell you.

For your desire to know what is between us,

O'ermaster't as you may. And now, good friends,

As you are friends, scholars, and soldiers,

Give me one poor request.

Luigi. What is't, my lord? We will.

Mario. Never make known what you have seen to-night.

Yoshi. [with Luigi] My lord, we will not.

Mario. Nay, but swear't.

Luigi. In faith,

My lord, not I.

Yoshi. Nor I, my lord- in faith.

Mario. Upon my sword.

Yoshi. We have sworn, my lord, already.

Mario. Indeed, upon my sword, indeed.

Donkey Kong cries under the stage.

DK. Swear.

Mario. Aha boy, say'st thou so? Art thou there, truepenny?

Come on! You hear this fellow in the cellarage.

Consent to swear.

Luigi. Propose the oath, my lord.

Mario. Never to speak of this that you have seen.

Swear by my sword.

DK. [beneath] Swear.

Mario. Hic et ubique? Then we'll shift our ground.

Come hither, gentlemen,

And lay your hands again upon my sword.

Never to speak of this that you have heard:

Swear by my sword.

DK. [beneath] Swear by his sword.

Mario. Well said, old mole! Canst work i' th' earth so fast?

A worthy pioner! Once more remove, good friends."

Luigi. O day and night, but this is wondrous strange!

Mario. And therefore as a stranger give it welcome.

There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,

Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.

But come!

Here, as before, never, so help you mercy,

How strange or odd soe'er I bear myself

(As I perchance hereafter shall think meet

To put an antic disposition on),

That you, at such times seeing me, never shall,

With arms encumb'red thus, or this head-shake,

Or by pronouncing of some doubtful phrase,

As 'Well, well, we know,' or 'We could, an if we would,'

Or 'If we list to speak,' or 'There be, an if they might,'

Or such ambiguous giving out, to note

That you know aught of me- this is not to do,

So grace and mercy at your most need help you,

Swear.

DK. [beneath] Swear.

[They swear.]

Mario. Rest, rest, perturbed spirit! So, gentlemen,

With all my love I do commend me to you;

And what so poor a man as Hamlet is

May do t' express his love and friending to you,

God willing, shall not lack. Let us go in together;

And still your fingers on your lips, I pray.

The time is out of joint. O cursed spite

That ever I was born to set it right!

Nay, come, let's go together. (Leaps forward and sails into the air as his accomplices take suit, while Donkey Kong watches with anticipation before utterly dissipating)

Exeunt.

#Mario #Hamlet #Shakespeare #From now on I'll make it a little more interesting #Super mario #Donkey Kong #Luigi #Yoshi

2 notes · View notes