#(tagging them since they were part of the butchers army)

[redtsundere-writes]

Part 6: Harvest Season

King!SukunaRyomen x Servant!FemReader

Summary: You used to be just another servant among the army of humans operating under the command of the terrible king, Sukuna Ryomen. An ordinary human who only knows how to wash, clean and cook. Until one day, he notices something in you that you hadn't seen before.

Tags: MDNI. +18. Murder. Blood. Cannibalism. Sukuna Ryomen Is The Warning Itself. Nudity. Sexual Display. Vaginal. Fingering.Sometimes fluff, sometimes angst.

Word Count: 5083 words.

Beginning. | ← Previous | Next →

The cold morning tickled your toes protruding from the blankets that barely covered your body. You curled into a ball as you slept with your five sisters while the sun peeked through the hills of the green valley. They were squashed together like sardines to make the most of the small bed's cramped space. The room in the cabin where they lived was practically empty, they only had a small closet with all their clothes, some stuffed animals for decoration and a semi-transparent white cloth that served as a curtain. You were in your fifth dream when you felt a hand pulling your foot. You snapped your eyes open to see your mother at the end of the bed. 

“Let’s go to the market,” she asked you as you whittled your eyes wide awake. 

You nodded in response so as not to wake your sisters. You carefully slipped out of bed to get dressed in a brown dress, you wore it so much that it already had holes in the skirt. Your mother had sold most of your fancy dresses, so your sisters could buy new ones for the dances they were invited to. Your mother was always obsessed with the idea that one of her daughters would marry a rich man and take them all out of the misery in which they lived. Every morning she used to repeat the same thing: “Up my future princesses because men don't flirt themselves.” You quietly left the room and picked up the old worn-out basket they used to carry the loaf of bread and potatoes they could afford to buy. 

Since your father died a couple of years ago, money was always tight. Your mother, to keep her hopes up and not starve to death, had slowly sold all the furniture in the house. She started with the living room, then the dining room, then her bed and then the decorations. Little by little, they were running out of options. Someone had to sacrifice in the work field, and your mother would not be one of them. 

The sun was barely rising over the green horizon. It was too early to go to the human market, but you just followed your mother without question. The grass crunched under your worn boots and the cool air ruffled your hair. As you walked along the path you had created from the many times you had gone to town, your mother was quieter than usual. She was a hard woman to keep quiet, always having to have an opinion on something. “The mornings are horrible,” “it hasn't rained in months,” “everything is more expensive.” She always prattled on about any topic that crossed her mind, but today she was different. She just looked straight ahead, walked hurriedly and hadn't even wished you good morning. “Maybe she wants some peace,” you thought. You should have realized it at the time. 

You knew you reached the main town when the smell of fish intensified. Every morning, fishermen set out to sell their booty among the busy main streets of the Sukuna kingdom. A place full of humans who were ruled by curses. Since King Sukuna had conquered their lands along with his army more than five hundred years ago, the humans who had already lived there for centuries became easy prey for the hideous deformed monsters. Half of the population was eaten, while the other was left alone as soon as their stomachs were full. The only thing that stopped them from eating more was their own limits. From then on, the curses began to coexist with the humans. Only instead of treating them as equals, it was a cow-butcher relationship. 

Since the curses owned the main town, it was rare to see so many humans walking down the street. They were all heading in the same direction, the gloomy castle of King Sukuna. A striking architectural structure of charcoal color and huge windows with blood-red roses. It was so large that despite being surrounded by towering walls, you could still admire the rest of the castle and its imposing watchtowers. Your astonished gaze kept going up to admire the terrible place. Your eyes could not continue because the top of its towers were hidden among the gray clouds and the vultures flying overhead. 

Unfortunately, they had not arrived at the market but at the gigantic wooden bridge that led into the castle. Several curses in fine armor paraded around the perimeter as you watched two of them lead a lady into the castle. Your breath hitched as you realized what day it was. Today was harvest day. Once a year, King Sukuna asks those who want to work for him to report to the castle and in return their families would be rewarded financially, but everyone knows it's a trap. No one knows exactly what goes on inside the castle, but a tyrant who mistreats his people does not usually offer “work.” All the people know that once you enter his castle, you don't get out. Even though it is known that entering his castle was like entering a torture machine of your own free will. People in need of money or resources send older relatives or children they can't support to get rid of them. 

You dropped the basket in shock at why your mother had only woken you up so early and was so quiet. She was about to sell you. As soon as the basket creaked against the floor, you ran away to avoid your painful fate as the daughter who was betrayed by her mother. You didn't manage to run that far, because two curses pinned you to the ground. You screamed, kicked and twisted your body in failed attempts to escape. Your eyes filled with tears as soon as the curses lifted you off the ground to drag you back to the castle. It was the end, you knew that for a fact. 

“We must part ways, my adorable daughter,” your mother said goodbye without looking you in the eye. 

“Are you really going to sell me to the tyrant? You know what happens to those who enter!” You yelled while tears fell desperately down your cheeks. 

“Don't be like that, you know we need money. The king may be a tyrant, but sometimes he is generous,” she said as he showed you the sack of gold coins the curses give her for you. 

100 gold coins. That was all you were worth. All your years of life equaled a year's worth of food. Not even luxuries, expensive furniture or beautiful clothes. Your mother had traded you to eat one more year without worry. You hang your head in defeat. She was treating you as if you were a nuisance. One more pitiful mouth to feed. 

“I can work at the market, at sea, in mining, in anything!” You protested. 

“How are you going to work there? I educated you as a young lady so you could marry a rich man, and you failed me,” she emphasized, spitting in your face the disappointment she felt. 

Your chest ached, snot was building up in your nose and your eyes were beginning to redden from the hot tears coming from your sad heart. Your head was starting to hurt, you couldn't believe this was happening to you. You were always a good daughter. You were the perfect daughter, polite and compliant. What have you done wrong? The frustration of not being able to do anything was eating you alive.  

“Think of your sisters. With this money, they will be able to buy new dresses to impress rich men. Next week there is going to be a ball, they say King Gojo will be there,” your mother said excitedly. 

“Say goodbye to your mother, we must get you to the castle.” A curse ordered you with a harsh voice. 

“I don't have a mother anymore,” you mumbled between sobs. 

“My sweet daughter, don't be like that…” your mother called you with disappointment. 

“And you no longer have a daughter,” your mother gasped, surprised at the minimum act of rebellion. 

From the time you were a little girl, your parents knew you would be a good girl. You always did everything orderly, knew what to say to stay out of trouble and educated your sisters when they were wrong. You were the perfect daughter in their eyes. The only thing you weren't good at was talking to men. At dances none of them would come up to you and none of them would catch your eye. While the sister next in age to you, Yorozu, danced with almost everyone, you always stood on the sidelines as you watched the night unfold. Your mother always scolded you on the way home for not being good enough to get a husband, but that never mattered to you. You knew inside that someday you would marry a good man who could see your true potential. 

Curses threw you into the parade ground and closed the gate behind you. You felt worse than dirt itself, you wanted to lie on the ground where you belonged. You wished the earth would swallow you up and disappear at that instant, anyway, you had nothing left to fight for. You didn't even have the strength to cry anymore. 

A loud sobbing sound reached your ears, causing you to look up. A little blond boy was crying his eyes out as he desperately searched for his mother. You were in the same situation as him, only you didn't have a little teddy bear to cheer you up. In a place full of old people, no one wanted to pay attention to you. No one had enough energy to soothe the crying of a frightened child. 

You stood up and dusted off your dress. Quietly, you approached the child with a red face from crying. He was dressed in a torn white shirt and dirty overalls. He couldn't have been more than 10 years old. You got down on your knees to stand by his height and wiped away his tears with your thumbs before shaking off his clothes.

“I want my mommy,” the boy shouted as he sniffled. A lump rose in your throat. You wanted the one you used to have too. 

“She'll be back. You just have to be a good boy, alright?” You asked with a weak smile. The boy nodded as he rubbed his watery eyes. “Whatever you do, just behave well and she will come back.”

 “Do you promise me?” he asked you between sobs, raising his little pinky towards you. 

“Of course,” you answered, intertwining his little finger with yours. 

An old woman approached you both. A granny with a cotton head, raisin skin and a sketchy smile, handed him a piece of candy she had in the pocket of her once-white apron. The boy gladly accepted it, forgetting for a second why he was crying in the first place. Children were always easy to please. 

“Poor little boy. He hasn't even started his life, and he's already this lucky,” the old woman whispered to you as you watched him eat the candy and play with his teddy bear perched on the grass. You could only nod in sorrow.

After an hour of waiting and watching the curses hurl more sold humans onto the parade ground. The doors of the gigantic castle opened. A white-haired person with a red stripe and splendid white robes made an appearance along with a scroll under their arm. You stepped in front of the boy to hide him behind you. 

“Welcome to this year's harvest. Thanks to your relatives or communities, you have been chosen as the most useless beings of this year. So the great king Sukuna has decided to give you the opportunity to work for him as servants,” The person began to read the scroll aloud in front of everyone. 

A collective sigh was heard when he read the word “useless”. Most of them, being elderly, already knew that they were only a burden to their families. Therefore, there was no need to stress it further. It was like squeezing lemon on an open wound. 

“As every year, we give those who are completely useless a chance to leave. King Sukuna needs real servants and not stupid dogs.” Along with that announcement, the castle gates opened.

There it was, the door that would lead them to freedom right under their noses. Hearing that, most of them ran towards their escape route, desperate to return home to their loved ones. You took the child in your arms and were about to run away until the thought that the offer was too good to be true settled in your mind. “Those who go in, never come back” you thought. 

“Come on, dear, let's go,” the kind old woman asked you while she pulled you by the arm to escape quickly. 

“If they do this every year, why doesn't anyone come back home?” You asked her. “It's a trap, I can feel it.” The old woman looked at you puzzled at first, but understood your point after processing it for a couple of seconds. She was so blinded by the brilliant exit that she hadn't boasted about it. 

Once the first to escape was about to reach the door, the grille slammed shut. The evil laughter of hundreds of curses echoed through the place like a war chant. In less than a second, a gigantic flock of armored curses began to eat all those who were about to flee. A massacre, desperate screams and blood spraying everywhere. You had never seen anything like it in your life. You knew the curses were evil and ate humans, but you never thought it would be such a disastrous sight. You covered the child’s eyes. The lady covered her face as she realized the hell they had been sent to. 

“Traitor dogs do not deserve to live,” the white-haired person said as soon as no human who had tried to escape was left alive. 

“You were right…” the old woman whispered next to you between silent sobs. 

You looked back at the front of the castle while your eyes were still drowning in tears. The person who was summoning you was glaring at you, as if offended by your mere presence. You looked around, less than half had stayed. The other elders were crying, vomiting and some lucky ones hadn't even turned around to see what was happening. Your arms were shaking from the cold of the morning and the terror that consumed you whole. You squeezed the child against your body to protect it. A little creature was not to blame for being in a place like that. You had to protect him, it was the only way he would have a chance to survive. 

“I congratulate you for surviving the first round. My name is Uraume, and I am the right hand of your king, Sukuna Ryomen,” they introduced themselves in a loud, monotone voice so that we could all hear them. “Next you will introduce yourselves to the king. He will have the final word as to your fate,” they explained before returning to the castle. 

After finishing their feast, the other curses rounded up the survivors to form a line in front of the castle gates. They were sheep being led by shepherds who were also wolves. No one said a word, they only obeyed by bodily proximity to where they were supposed to be. You did not let go of the child at any time, you had already proclaimed yourself as his guardian. Maybe it wasn't the best idea in hell, but you knew it was the right thing to do. You were willing to protect him as if he were one of your little sisters. 

Your beloved little sisters. You hid your face in the little boy's hair so no one would see you cry. Once you entered the castle, you would never leave, either by slavery or death. You would never see your lovely sisters again. You would never see them play, comb each other's hair or sing happily after dinner. You cursed the time when you had grown up and were not woman enough not to marry someone. In your mother's eyes you were a disappointment and were to be discarded. You only prayed internally that your sisters would not have the same fate. Yorozu was only a year younger than you. If she did not marry soon, she too would be sold. 

The survivors passed 5 at a time into the castle. The walls were so thick that they could not hear what was happening on the other side. There were 5 more people left, and it was your turn to pass next to the old woman, who was repeating the same silent prayer several times. The curse at the front of the line signaled the 5 people to pass, making everyone move in sync. 

“The child must enter,” the curse ordered you. 

“But they already let 5 in. It's his turn to go in when I go in,” you defended, holding the little boy tightly. 

The curse smiled maliciously before snatching the child from your hands. The difference in strength was crazy. You managed to grab the child by his white shirt to prevent him from being stolen. The child began to cry out loud because the curse had hooked its claws into his back. The curse pulled harder on the boy, leaving you with only the torn piece of cloth in your hand. As you tried to reach him again, the curse kicked you in the stomach so that you fell to the ground. Your body fell, and your eyes could only watch as the boy was mercilessly thrown along with the others. 

“Just do what they ask you to do!” You shouted at the boy between sobs before another curse kicked you in the face to shut you up. 

The last thing you could see was his face full of tears and snot as you bled from your nose incessantly. The castle doors slammed shut as the curses taunted you. You didn't care what they had to say, you just wanted the child to be okay. The woman you had befriended helped you up as your chest closed, and your eyes hurt from crying. You couldn’t do it anymore. 

After about 10 minutes, the doors opened again. The curse kicked you in the back to get you inside. The old woman and three other old men followed close behind. A servant with a grim face welcomed you and led you into the king's hall. A room filled with luxuries along the walls, costly works, candles bathed in gold foil and glowing obsidian candelabras. It was a pity that the beautiful room was bathed in the dark blood of your kind. The walls were splattered, some candles had been extinguished because of it, and there were several dismembered bodies all over the room. 

Despite being surrounded by light sources, the deepest part of the room was in complete darkness. Where you assumed the throne was supposed to be, there were many curtains that kept the king in the shadows. The only thing you could see was one of his giant feet being struck by the light of a nearby candle. 

The servant asked them to stand in a side row so that the king could get a good view of them all. Once they obeyed, the servant retreated at a brisk pace. Everyone was silent. You could only hear their breaths being disturbed by the situation they were in. Your eyes traveled around the room. The bodies of the discarded individuals were cut into hundreds of cubes, making your blood run cold. It was an extremely perfect job, almost impossible to do. Had the king done that or was someone else in the room with them? You didn't want to see, but it was like a morbid exhibition of what an abominable being could do.

Your eyes roamed around the room in curiosity and terror, until they saw a teddy bear soaked in blood. The teddy bear of the child you swore you would protect. The child's head had been cut off, his eyes had popped out of his skull and were held in place by its corneas, and the rest of his body was completely mutilated into perfect rectangles of flesh. You closed your eyes and clenched your skirt to keep from screaming in despair. The frustration and disappointment in you could not be compared to anything else. You could do nothing to save him. You were pathetic. 

“5… 4…” The king started the countdown. For what? You had no idea. 

You knew you wouldn't have the answer if you asked him because of his reputation as a foul tyrant. You didn't know much about the dastardly king who reigned over the land of your birth, the only thing you knew was that he hated humans more than anything else in the world. You looked around for answers as to what exactly the king wanted. Nothing about the decorations gave you answers, the only thing that kept catching your attention were the bodies. “If he has servants, why are the bodies still here?” you thought the servants would get rid of them before bringing in any more prospects. 

“3…” His deep voice echoed through the walls along with a devilish smile. 

Sukuna watched you comfortably from his large stone throne, hand carved by the best sculptors in the region. He was amused to see your eyes darting everywhere. “What a fool,” you thought disdainfully. Nothing in the room could help you know what to do. 

“2…” You could hear a small smile escape his lips as he approached 0. 

You analyzed the bodies before you and they all met the same characteristic. None of the heads were connected to the rest of the body. Their heads had been cut off before they were mutilated. If none of them had heads, it is because they must have been at the same height, that is, they were standing when their heads were cut off. Standing in front of a tyrant? Complete blasphemy. That was it. That must have been it. 

“¡1!” 

“Get down, ma'am!” you yelled before pulling the lady down to the floor with you so she could kneel. 

You knelt with your head on your hand as a pillow while the other still held the lady's arm. A thin slice rang through the room. It was so fast that you didn't hear a scream or even a whimper, you only heard the bodies of the others in the room fall to the floor under their own weight. The blood of the old man next to you began to trickle down to your fingers. You didn't dare look at the result of what had happened. You were just relieved that you were in one piece. 

“Finally… Someone with manners,” the king uttered with disdain. You tried to swallow the lump in your throat, but it wouldn't go away. “The one in the middle, come closer,” he commanded. You were dead, you sensed it. 

You struggled to your feet and walked towards him without looking his way. You entered his little sacred place in the middle of the dark, but you could see him clearly. His pink legs were gigantic. His thigh was thicker than your legs put together. That already gave you hints of the giant in front of you. Despite being dressed in a large white robe, he still showed enough skin to be considered vulgar. As soon as you approached, his hand took your head easily as if it were a ball, directing your gaze towards him. Your eyes widened at the eerie sight in front of you. A malevolent face split in half that watched you morbidly. His four eyes roamed your body shamelessly. His half-naked body tattooed with different lines astonished you at a closer look.  

“How old are you?” He asked you while he moved your joints with his four arms as if you were a doll he could play with. You answered obediently between stutters. “Tell me, did your husband sell you?” he answered with a mocking tone. 

“I am not married, my king,” Sukuna arched an eyebrow at that response. You decided to elaborate your answer to that reaction. “My mother sold me because I didn't marry.” 

“You are still old enough to get married,” Sukuna said, still not letting go to observe you better. 

He turned and moved you around like a globe to inspect you completely. It's been a long time since I've seen a girl of your age, to be always in the castle or conquering lands, she always sees young men but almost never women. For someone of the lowest possible class, you had your certain charm. Sukuna saw you as if you were a strange doll in an antique store, odd but striking in your own way. 

“We were starving, my king.”

“It shows,” he replied with a certain mocking tone. “You know… I'm not used to seeing girls like you around here. They always send me decrepit old men or children who didn't die in their mother's womb,” he explained, annoyed. 

Despite the terrifying distance and the fact that your heart was pounding a mile a minute, you were glad he wasn't hurting you. He grabbed you by the head as if he were examining a fruit to dictate whether he could eat it or not, but he didn't squeeze you as if he were squeezing you between his claws. 

“I keep the old people because they work the hardest for their daily meal and I kill all the children because I hate how loud they can be.” You quickly realized right there that you never had a chance to save the child. An unruly tear rolled down your cheek, taking a second to mourn the little boy in silence. “So tell me, what should I do with you, kill you outright or give you a chance?” he asked you with a sinister smile. 

“Dying before I live through hell doesn't sound so bad,” you thought pessimistically. What was the point of going on living? Your mother had sold you, and you trusted that your sisters would marry before you, especially Yorozu, so you didn't have to worry about her. You no longer felt you had any value, but you were afraid of dying. That inexplicable, but useless fear left you frozen. Why did you want to keep breathing if you weren't going to live anyway? Your mind couldn't make up its mind. 

“I trust your decision, my king,” you replied in a sigh of surrender. 

Sukuna's smile disappeared, he did not expect that answer. I thought you would beg him for mercy for your life, but you had completely surrendered to him, leaving your fate in his hands. He smiled again, this time, satisfied. 

“Why?” he asked curiously. 

“Because you always have the last word.” 

“Interesting,” He answered before pulling you by the neck to bring you closer to his face. “You are someone special, aren't you?” Sukuna asked with eyes full of interest in you. He had found a gold nugget in a pile of shit. 

Your eyes slowly drifted to his. Have you heard correctly? Had he, an almighty king, called you special? You no longer knew if your heart was pounding from the flattery or being so close to the king. You were so close that you could decipher what he had for breakfast that morning, probably people. 

“Do you know how to cook and clean?” he asked quietly. You just nodded. “Well, you better not let me down,” he reluctantly let you go, making you stumble backwards. “Now get out of here with that old bitch so you get your uniforms,” he ordered with a harsh tone. 

“Thank you, my king. I will not disappoint you,” you thanked him with a weak smile as you bowed several times before retreating from his presence. 

Sukuna couldn't take his eyes off you. You ran to the shocked lady to help her out of the bloody room. She laid her head on her fist as she followed your anatomy. There was something about you that caught her attention. You were submissive, but you were not stupid. You were perceptive, but not rebellious. He liked what you had offered him so far, he just needed to do a little more observing. 

“Thank you very much, thank you, child, you saved my life!” The old woman cried once they left the room into a candle lit hallway. A small smile crept onto your face. You may not have saved the child, but you saved your new friend. “I am forever in debt with you.” 

“No need, ma'am,” you said so as not to make her feel guilty. 

“Mrs. Inoue,” she introduced herself in tears as she bowed politely, you did the same as you let her know your name. 

They both walked until they reached the end of the hallway where the few survivors were. An uncomfortable silence ruled the place. Mrs. Inoue and yourself sat down on a small bench to wait for instructions. Uraume and a group of servants carrying piles of clothes arrived not long after. Sukuna's right hand looked at everyone with disdain as the servants handed out the uniforms to the new servants who would be under her command. “So she survived…” they thought interested of you as you changed out of the old brown dress into the new uniform. 

You lifted the wet apron against the sunlight to check it for any unwanted stains. Your first anniversary as Sukuna's servant was a month away. You couldn't believe that you were about to complete one lap around the sun since you survived the harvest and received your maid's uniform. A long black dress with a contrasting white apron with black boots and a scarf in your hair to keep your hair off your forehead. You returned the apron to the sink to continue washing it by hand with soap and water. A small smile crept in as you realized you had survived the worst, you just hoped you had the same luck for the rest of your life. Now, you could rest for a very deserving week. 

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[honeysickledream]

'Overgrown' - Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader | Chapter Two

(photo credit: me [@honeysickledream])

warnings/tags: F!reader, no use of Y/N and no physical descriptions of reader, reader is a healer and midwife, this is set in a very vague ‘middle ages’ time, forced/arranged marriage, some angst, slow burn (heavy emphasis on slow for this entire series), miscommunication, relationship issues, relationship doubts, no smut this time around (again) but still minors DNI, brief mentions of: pregnancy (side character), childbirth and recovery (same side character gives birth off screen) | that's all, I think, but if I missed anything, lmk!

word count: ~1.2k

synopsis: You had married Simon four months ago, the whole thing some stupid forced arrangement. You had left everything you knew behind to live with Simon in his cabin a few miles out from his hometown. You weren't sure you could classify your relationship as a marriage, or even say truthfully that you lived with him because he wasn't around very often. Some part of you hopes things improve, but you're not unwillingly to do what you can to live the life you'd originally planned for.

a/n: a bit shorter than the first part, but that's what I get for procrastinating my first paper of the semester. i have to get my procrastination under wraps (they say after not doing so while in undergrad)

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The walk to town seemed further today. For every step you took, the dirt path seemed to stretch another mile. You’d been up since a little after midnight, deciding to be productive with your time instead of wallowing in your bed, fuming. Four loaves had been baked, the open hearth cleaned of ash and the wood replenished for today’s use. Clean sheets had been folded and put away, a chore you had been putting off since you first hung the linens on the line, and the shelves in the larder had been dusted for the first time in well over a month. You’d even fetched water for Simon’s bath after your own, leaving them before the clean hearth to heat at his leisure. When he was around, he often fetched his own water, but you’d felt the need to do it for him today. Maybe it had been your guilt for how you acted last night that led you to the kind task. A small, silent apology. A show of care, awareness. You supposed it was another sign of guilt when you’d left a little before he woke, still on edge from his return and not wishing to subject him to any more crankiness. No, you decided to bottle up your crankiness in case someone got on your bad side, like the nosy or overly-opinionated family members your patients seemed to have in spades. The south portcullis had just finished rising as the town came into view and the woods were left behind. All but the western portcullis were left closed during the night, though you weren’t sure why. The early risers were already on the streets, the town relatively quiet, a few businesses open and preparing for customers. The baker, a sweet man with a perpetually red nose and an apron that always seemed to have a new flower embroidered on the hem by his daughter, was displaying his fresh loaves with the usual remarkable precision. Across the road, the butcher and his apprentices—his twin sons—were laying out fresh hides on the racks beside their shop. A mother exited her home, flanked by her small army of sleepy children who all had their own ways to grump at her for getting them ready for the day. An elderly couple you’d gotten to know well these last four months, both regularly needing new pots pepper pastes and lavender, barely poultices for their joint pains, were slowly walking their usual route. When they waved to you, you waved back and gave them a warm smile. They had been married for ages, had a gaggle of children who each had gaggles of their own. Their oldest son and his family had moved back to the town a few weeks ago to be close to the aging couple and you saw them often when you did your house-visits. Nice enough folks, the oldest son and his family, and they always made sure to stay out of the way when you went about your business. The son had even tried to give you some extra coin for tending to his parents, which you kindly declined, telling him that you charged the same for everyone, no ifs, ands or buts about it. You turned down narrow road and made your way to the fifth door on the left, rapping your knuckles against the faded red door three times. Today was a one patient day, the other healers and midwives in the town tending to your usual patients as well as their own, and for good reason. The woman who answered was sweaty and out of breath, teeth clenched. You glanced to her gravid belly and gave her a sympathetic look. Apparently your suggested methods of inducing labor had worked, and by the tension in her shoulders and the exhaustion in her eyes, early labor had been going on for quite some time, and the likelihood of a quick transition to active labor now that you were here, was slim. ***

The late afternoon had been greeted by the sweet wails of a newborn, and those stopped outside the home, waiting with bated breath for babe’s arrival, broke out in cheers and song. Once the mother and babe were clean and situated, you began the second part of your duties as midwife: tending to the home for an easier transition. You sent the dirtied sheets and the mother’s shroud to a laundress paid for with the money from your skirt pocket, then prepared a light meal for the family since such excitement and tension could cause a heavy meal to not sit properly. After the new mother’s husband returned, and your final check for her and the babe’s health was completed, you took your payment, stuffed your messed apron into your medical bag and left. As was your tradition following a successful delivery, you popped into the bakery and ordered a small fruit tart. You ate it slowly as you stood outside and watched as the evening crowds began to form as the sky turned a sweet mixture of lilac and peony. The tart was flaky, the sugar on top not yet dissolved, and the fruit inside had just the right amount of tang. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw a familiar figure: Simon. Simon? Your heart painfully skipped a beat as your eyes followed him as he went to the butcher’s. You finished the rest of your tart quickly and dusted your hands off as you wove through the crowds to catch up to him. Seeing him in town was a first, you were nearly sure of that. And you were entirely sure that it was him when you peered through the window of the butcher’s shop, catching the eye of the butcher himself, his twin sons, and finally Simon whose brows rose slowly at you. There was a passing of coin and scribbled-on parchment, then Simon headed right for the door. Right for you. You quickly pushed away from the window and turned to face the crowds of people as if nothing had happened at all. Except it had, and you were sure you were about to be given a plethora of strange looks by Simon. Yet he didn’t give you a strange look. He did search your face, though, then looked you up and down. His eyes lingered on your torso, noting the absence of your apron, you supposed. “Done for the day?” he asked. You nodded. “I only had one patient today, and I’m thankful for that.” You chewed your cheek as you stood there beside him, the two of you looking towards the townspeople who didn’t pay either of you any mind. You looked down and noticed the basket in his left hand, the list inside it, and the money in your skirt pocket seemed to suddenly weigh a ton. Your mind wandered to the flimsy floorboard in your bedroom, the one by your door that you pried up almost every day, and what was underneath it. Money. Most of the money you earned from your profession went into the satchel hidden under the floorboard. A failsafe, an escape plan in case you couldn’t bear to remain in the marriage. “Are you headed to the market?” you asked before you could stop yourself. There was an opportunity lurking if he was. When he nodded, you followed suit. “I’ll come along,” you told him. “Maybe we could talk, too?”

[viola-ophelia]

in defense of thranduil

hello! so you know how i occasionally do “in defense of” meta posts about unpopular characters ( X X X ) ? well, i’ve been thinking for a while about doing one for thranduil, but i wasn’t quite sure how to go about it since tbh, i don’t think anyone could call thranduil unpopular. his ao3 tag is very well-populated, and, ahem, a good portion of it is smut lol. he even has a ton of “x reader” stuff about him on tumblr, which to me is usually the hallmark of a popular character. but i’ve felt the urge to defend him anyway, and i think it’s because... well. i do think a character can be both popular and misunderstood, and for all the thranduil enthusiasm i’ve seen, i’ve seen just as much thranduil hate and criticism, so clearly something about him has people at odds. specifically, a lot of people seem to think he’s a bad dad, and/or that the peter jackson movies totally butchered his character, which is really interesting to me because i actually believe neither. so i’m going to try to illustrate why! i’ll be primarily discussing movie-verse thranduil in this post, with a few references to the books as a secondary source. so without further ado, here is why i think thranduil is A Good Dad Actually, and the movies are not a “butchering” of but a compelling darker/grittier spin on a character who - since he exists in tolkien’s written works only in a book for children and in the margins of a sprawling and very bloody history - only really works if you reconcile those two things. 

under a cut because as always, this is LONG!

let’s first talk about what seems to be people’s main grievance with movie-verse thranduil: the fact that he’s “turned into this greedy character whose only motive is getting back those gems” when that’s not what he’s like in the book. while it’s definitely true that there are a few key differences between book thranduil and movie thranduil, i actually don’t think that the two versions are so incongruous with each other. the areas where they differ, i think, flesh out movie thranduil into a character who compels beyond his simplified, kid-friendly presentation in the hobbit book and who makes sense within the larger historical context of his world. it’s true that the elvenking in the hobbit isn’t explicitly interested in material gain. he mainly seems to get involved in the battle of the five armies to help out bard, since mirkwood is allied with laketown. and there’s also no mention in the book of the elvenking having lost his wife, even though that’s a key part of his backstory in the hobbit movies. in the movies, those gems that he’s so interested in getting back from the dwarves are actually a necklace that belonged to his wife before she died. he’s still motivated by wanting to help laketown - which is why he shows up before the battle with wagons of food and supplies for the starving people - but he’s also motivated by grief - something deeply personal that none of the other characters (except gandalf, because gandalf knows everything lol) are even aware of, and this, i feel, gives depth to his character. 

the thing is, thranduil seems greedy because none of the other characters know of, and thus inherently cannot understand, his real reason for pursuing the gems. and it’s true - at face value, it doesn’t make sense why he’d seemingly put his people at risk for a random necklace. a pretty harsh reading of thranduil’s motives could even align him with thorin’s dragon-sickness. but remember how the battle of the five armies started? thranduil and bard pulled up with their forces thinking it was gonna be all of them against twelve dwarves and a hobbit lol. they probably thought there’d be no casualties and it’d be over in twenty minutes! they had no way of knowing how many other forces were going to get involved. and when thranduil does see the first elves laying dead on the ground, he tries to draw out. he never wanted to spend his people’s lives like that. he realizes he had been blinded by his grief for his wife and had acted selfishly - and personally, i like this a lot better than the book’s sort of handwave-y explanation for why the elvenking is even bothering to involve himself and his kingdom in the (petty, by his standards) affairs of dwarves and men. because... movie thranduil is not just Like That for no reason. he has a whole history, going wayyy beyond his wife’s death even, that makes him the way he is - and that is what is so satisfying about his portrayal in the movies, because it actually attempts to acknowledge that deeper context. 

we have to remember that thranduil, at least in comparison to pretty much every other character in the hobbit, is old as hell. he reminds us of this multiple times in the movies: “a hundred years is a mere blink in the life of an elf. i can wait.” for a character who presumably shouldn’t need to worry or think about death, he’s unusually fixated on his own immortality in the movies, a trait that is missing from the books. and while i do get why some readers are charmed by the idea of an elf who doesn’t seem to perceive himself very differently than the men and dwarves he’s surrounded by, i’m a lot more drawn in by the idea of an elf who just can’t forget about how different he is. because if you actually think about where thranduil fits into the bigger history of middle-earth, it’s sort of hard to turn the page back from this darker, more scarred side to him - because yeah, he might live forever if he avoids conflict, but he also knows death in a way that someone like bilbo baggins would not even be able to conceptualize. thranduil was born in doriath in the first age, making him old enough to likely have been involved in not one but two kinslayings against his people. we know nothing about his mother, making it likelier than not that she was lost in one of them when he was still a child. his father, oropher, the original elvenking of the greenwood, was killed in the battle of dagorlad in the second age - the “last stand” of elves against sauron. thranduil, fighting alongside him and the silvan elves, had to watch his father die and then be crowned as the new king right then and there. (also, oropher died in the very first charge of the battle, which then continued on for months. imagine how hard it’d have been to stave off that creeping hopelessness.) and finally, thranduil’s wife was killed in battle at some point not long after their son was born. thranduil’s dragon fire scar on his face is an invention of the movies, and it’s unclear when exactly it happened - at the same battle where he lost his wife? some time earlier? but anyways. i’ve been going on and on about his life for a reason, and that reason is Thranduil Has Seen A Lot Of Shit. it’s easy to look at him in the movies and critique him - why is he so cold? why is he an isolationist ruler when in the books he’s more welcoming (after initially chucking the dwarves in jail, lol)? but the hobbit isn’t really thranduil’s story, so exposing all of this context in the movies wouldn’t have made much sense, would it. and i actually like that there are some gaps, because that’s what makes him so interesting. no one knows his history, and why should they? when it comes down to it, thranduil is just a side character in someone else’s adventure. 

the last thing that i really want to address is thranduil’s relationship with legolas, his son - partly to refute the idea that he’s a bad dad, but also partly to talk about how despite all the griping that i’ve seen about how stupid it was to “randomly” insert legolas into the hobbit movies, it actually made so much sense for both of their characters. obviously, while it’s confirmed elsewhere that thranduil/the elvenking is legolas’s dad, legolas is not actually in the hobbit book. but this, i think, is more so to do with the fact that tolkien wrote the lord of the rings (and invented legolas’s character) after he wrote the hobbit, and less so to do with the idea that legolas is inherently “irrelevant” to the story of the hobbit. because if legolas is irrelevant to the hobbit, then is he irrelevant to thranduil? i really don’t think so, because even though tolkien gave us no clues as to what their relationship might’ve been like, even the fact that they’re father and son is really important. for thranduil, the fact that he has a son adds dimension not just to who he is in the movies - and yes, we see a fraught side of his dynamic with legolas as he has to reconcile with legolas growing up and wanting a freedom that thranduil with his too-deep understanding of the world’s dangers doesn’t want to give - but also to the concept of his character. thranduil has lost so many people he loved in horrible ways that now legolas is all he has left, and consequentially there’s so much talk about him as an oppressive parent, so paranoid of losing him that he keeps him imprisoned inside the always-closed kingdom gates. but at the end of the hobbit movies, thranduil also gives legolas his blessing to go on the quest to destroy the one ring. when it comes down to it, he is willing to let legolas do what's best for him, even knowing that this could be how he loses him. i know thranduil isn’t a perfect parent, that’s pretty obvious lol. but i don’t see how people watch these movies and their takeaway isn’t that he’s at least trying his best and that he does genuinely love his son. also, look at legolas! legolas is clearly proud of his identity as a wood elf. and he’s happy, he’s caring, he’s adventurous, he’s even pretty wise despite being one of the youngest elves. i don’t exactly see a traumatized victim of horrible parenting in him (and believe me, there is no shortage of victims of terrible parenting in the silmarillion/elsewhere in tolkien’s works) - i see a strong and well-adjusted young adult who wouldn’t hesitate to threaten anyone who spoke ill of his father’s kingdom with his bow lol. 

anyway, if you’ve made it this far through my rambling, i hope you can understand at least part of what i’m trying to say lol. it’s hard, because i have so many things i’m kind of trying to say all at once, but: tl;dr i actually think the hobbit movies did thranduil’s character right, not wrong, and that they do the opposite of proving that he’s a bad dad. :3

[bistaxx]

Things (or things I can remember off the top of my head) that Tubbo did during his presidency that I agree were kinda fucked up

Going through Phil’s stuff while he was under house arrest

Trying to kill Techno without a trial of any sorts/defaulting to execution instead of any other punishment in general

Shooting at Phil after the failed execution

Going back on his decision to not exile Tommy at the last minute (While I agree with his reasoning and that all things considered it was the safest move to make the other cabinet members and Tommy had the right to be angry about it and he ended up playing into Dream’s hand- which isn’t his fault, the situation was fucked from the start and I’m not blaming him for that. Just saying that the Cabinet had the right to be upset by that decision )

Things I think he was justified in doing

Putting Phil under house arrest in the first place since he was aiding a known terrorist

Going after Technoblade and arresting him in the first place (As far as The Cabinet was aware Techno was still out there and still planning on attacking L’manberg, they had no way of knowing that was retired until they actually confronted him and couldn’t risk just waiting for him to come to L’manberg ( which he had in fact snuck into L’manberg several times and never told the citizens why ) after the initial wither incident on November 16th)

( also I rewatched the part of Techno’s “Nothing goes wrong” vod where the army confronts Techno  (about 35 minutes in ) and they were in fact willing to listen to Techno when he claimed to have changed his ways. Of all people Quackity was willing to give Techno a chance to show them that he had changed his ways and said “Let’s do this peacefully”. Techno leads them to his bees... and then runs away the second they turned their backs leading to things escalating. Now I’m not faulting him for panicking and running away because he had no reason to trust them BUT at the same time this gives the army no reason to believe that he’s really changed his ways, as far as they are aware he could be just trying to escape punishment for unleashing withers in L’manberg or so he can further plot to harm L’manberg like Techno said he would the last time they all interacted and it frustrates me that I’ve seen literally no one talk about this. 

when they catch up to him Quackity does start threatening him saying they can do this “the easy way or the hard way” and Techno is the one to initiate the fight, not the other way around. Is he allowed to defend himself, yes of course! I’m not criticizing Techno’s character- I’m more just miffed about how people talk about this event. I’ve just seen people word things to make it seem like the army was the one to attack first when that’s just not true. The situation wasn’t a simple black and white one. )

(also also I just wanna say God I forgot how I much I love C!Quackity and how much I miss him- that is all-)

[aftgficrec]

howdyyy, could I possibly have your round up of the best in character blow burn andreil fics. I do love a good band fic but I really don't mind Its exy related or not :))) Thanks so much!

Anon, you had us at blow burn!

In character or OOC is always such a matter of personal opinion, but hopefully we’ve found you some nice, slooow slow burn here, keeping in mind your liking for band aus.  You might want to check out some raven!neil fics too (see our raven!neil tag here).  Enjoy this random selection! - S

previous posts:

long slow burn fics here (incl. the band fic ‘Something, Nothing & Everything’)

long, canon compliant slow burn here

previously recommended band/music aus:

‘And we’ll be running’ here

‘You Made a Monster Out of Me’ and ‘fugue in red’ here

‘Ultraviolence’ here

‘If you must’ here

‘not a lullaby’ here

some more general slow burn fics from previous posts:

‘The Unkindness of Ravens’ (since updated) and ‘Heartlines’ here

‘Of Smoke And Bone’ here (part 1 of this series is now complete)

‘that's just something people say’ here

‘N for nebulous’ here (now complete)

‘Armies’ here

So Much Younger Yesterday by thisisnotourlasthunt [Rated T, 21028 words, complete, Aftg Mixtape Exchange 2022, locked]

Andrew Minyard and Neil Josten: Famous musicians and online rivals that are forced (at first) to form a friendship.

Drew and Abram: Two dudes that began texting through Twitters' DM's on secret accounts so no one knew who they actually were.

Truths are shared. Feelings are shared. Kisses might get shared.

But all with due time because this is a slow burn fic.

tw: panic attacks, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: implied/referenced abuse, tw: implied/referenced self harm, tw: implied/referenced internalised homophobia

Champagne, cocaine, gasoline by Fae (ronnie_sawyer) [Rated M, 3058 words, incomplete, last updated April 2022]

The crowd roars as the band takes the stage. The first spotlight illuminates the lead singer. He has a fierce expression as he takes the mic and announces, with just an edge of danger and excitement in his voice:

“The future is bulletproof!”

The crowd explodes in cheers and a second light shows the guitarist to his right. With a grin and defiance shining in his eyes he continues:

“The aftermath is secondary!”

The crowds get the loudest when the guitarist to the left of the lead singer gets his spotlight. With a million-dollar smile, he states:

“It’s time to do it now, and do it loud!”

The bassist cheerfully salutes the crowd and says:

“Hey, all of you…”

The crowd pays attention and hold their breaths as the last light shows the drummer, leaning over his instrument with a mic to tell them:

“Make some noise!”

The one where the monsters have a band instead of playing exy.

tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: violence, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: drug abuse, tw: alcohol abuse

Kneel and Rue by elesary [Rated E, 42190 words, incomplete, last updated Feb 2022]

Find playlists for this fic here, here, here and here

Kevin Day shows up with an offer Neil can't turn down, not even to save his own life. Help Andrew Minyard write The Monster's next album and become Jos10, the newest opening act for Foxhole Records. With his butcher of a father in jail and his mother dead, Neil has a few months to savor this chance before it is ripped from his fingers.

But Riko, Kevin's oldest nightmare, knows enough about Neil to be dangerous, to clip his wings before he can even get off the ground. Uncle Stuart might have a way out, but the price might be too dear for even Neil to pay. With everything on the line, his life, his passion, a man that makes Neil want to stay, how long can Neil keep his cover, and what will he lose when it all falls apart?

or,

Neil joins a band, gets laid and starts a mob war.

tw: violence, tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: homophobic language, tw: nightmares, tw: explicit sexual content

If it means protecting you (I’ll pay my dues) by Intangibel (duskbutterfly) [Rated T, 114544 words, incomplete, last updated April 2022]

What if the threat of Aaron being charged with murder was more significant and Neil found out that he could prevent Andrew from having to be at the trial if he were to testify. What would he be willing to sacrifice to achieve that?

What if instead of refusing to testify for Aaron, Neil decides to make a deal with the FBI to become their witness against his father if they’ll backstop his current identity. He thinks it means signing his death warrant and losing the Foxes. Betsy, Aaron and the Foxes are determined to convince him it doesn’t have to be all or nothing, his father’s people are coming for him and that’s not even starting on what Andrew will have to say about Neil choosing to martyr himself.

tw: graphic depictions of violence, tw: child abuse, tw: torture, tw: blood, tw: scars, tw: vomit, tw: implied/referenced drug use, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced csa, tw: homophobia, tw: conversion camp reference, 

quicksand by likearecord [Rated M, 79727 words, complete, 2022]

Andrew and the Idiotic, Thirsty, Ill-advised, Very Off-Limits Crush on his College Roommate's Younger Brother.

tw: implied/referenced child abuse

nowhere to hide by CherrryBlosssoms [Not Rated, 64978 words, incomplete, last updated April 2022]

Don't stop running, Abram. Do not tell anyone who, or what, you are. Do not let your guard down, no matter what. You are special, Abram, far too special for your own good, and Nathan knows this better than anyone. Never return to Palmetto- you will never survive if you do. Bury Nathaniel Wesninski in the very soil we walk on.

Oh well- Neil has never been particularly good at following rules.

tw: violence, tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: blood, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced self harm, tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: nightmares

Gambling - Full Fic by Lyndis [Rated M, 18081 words, incomplete, last updated Feb 2022]

Neil is a hooker in Las Vegas and struggles to make ends meet. So when an opportunity arises to earn easy money by just sitting in someone's lap, he can't not take it. Even if his new John seems anything but harmless.

Part 2 of the Vegas AU

tw: implied/referenced self harm, tw: nightmares, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon

Live for you / Stay for me by doodlingstuff [Rated M, 137221 words, complete, 2021]

Wanting, wanting, wanting.

Andrew had let go of the longing to want years and years ago. He had died to start over without the need to want. He was living two lives only to protect what was his, but he was ready to let go and spend the rest of his days on the shore of Burlesca, drowning his memories in the waves crashing against the cliffs.

Wanting. Wanting. Wanting.

Strands of dark hair peeking out from a couch swept the ground underneath him. Clear blue eyes sparkling with the joy of having healthy legs pierced him. He wasn’t allowed to want. Not even an illusion. The coniglio would disappear as fast as he crashed into his world, and Andrew didn’t have any reason to learn to live without him if he hadn’t even learned to live with him.

Wanting. Wanting. Wanting.

Wanting was more dangerous than any other thing that Andrew had known.

tw: temporary major character death, tw: violence, tw: rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced torture

A world alone by ephemeralsky [Rated T, 54850 words, complete, 2018]

“It will not be cheap,” Andrew finally says.

“I know,” Wymack says. “Two bottles of Johnnie Walker sound good to you?”

“Four,” Andrew says without missing a beat. He thinks about having to deal with Nicky later on, about the additional work he has to do, and decides that he will not do anything for less.

“Three,” Wymack argues.

“Four or we have no deal.”

Wymack mutters something about blood-sucking hooligans under his breath before he concedes with a, “Fine.”

(or: a High School AU where only some of them are high-schoolers)

tw: blood, tw: violence, tw: implied/referenced abuse, tw: scars, tw: implied/referenced islamophobia, tw: ableism, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced self harm 

[minecraftrelatedrandomness]

Dream SMP Essay: c!Quackity's Conflicting Backstories

Notes: 

Some of you may already know some of this, because I have already posted part of my findings on c!Q's DSMP wiki page. And to members of the Flycord, you might have already found me ranting about this in his loveposting channel a couple of days ago or so.

Everything in the context of either characters (c!) and content creators (cc!) are labelled as such. The unlabelled names would refer to instances where the situation is ambiguous and apply to both.

Citations and links to VODs will be provided as required as evidence.

Content warnings: Death, dehumanization mention, injury, mental health, trauma, violence, etc. If further tagging is needed, please message me by asks or DMs.

Currently, c!Quackity has 2 potentially-contradicting known canon backstories, the first one being juvenile prison and the second one being MCM. I will elaborate more below the cut.

Backstory A: Juvenile prison

c!Q was allegedly in juvie for either 10 or 41 years before joining the SMP. It is unknown how he ended up there in the first place, e.g. what he did to be sent there, and there is very little context to what exactly happened there, other than it being an unhappy and possibly traumatic experience for him.

From what we know, he apparently broke his legs somehow during his second night there, and possibly even every night there. He might also be claustrophobic as a result of this. Since this backstory was mostly dropped after Q's first couple of livestream appearances, and it was mostly played for laughs than for drama, it is unknown how canonical this backstory is.

There are 4 main mysteries related to this potential backstory:

As mentioned above, what did he do to get sent to juvie in the first place?

How did the leg-breaking thing even happen? There is literally zero context to how that could have happened. And every night? Who is doing this? What kind of juvie is this? Can someone please shut it down?

If this backstory were to be played dead-seriously in the current lore and plotlines, how could this have impacted him? Especially because of, you know, the Pandora's Vault arc that we have going on at present?

How was he able to contact the Triple Ts to do their "drug cartel" thing before he even joined the server? Since he was apparently, you know, in jail at the time.

Backstory B: Minecr@ft Mondays

(See video version here.)

As far as I am aware, MCM was first mentioned in the Manburg Festival stream (a year ago to this day, i.e. the day I am posting this), when c!Q explained briefly how his fear of c!Techno to the point of having a breakdown came to be. Later the same day, i.e. the same stream, c!Schlatt mentioned how he and c!Techno "go way back", citing MCM Week 6 as part of their shared pre-SMP backstory.

Later in November (real-life time), c!Q clarified how he and c!Techno first met through MCM Week 1, explaining how he hadn't heeded JunkyJanker's warning about c!Techno's rightful reputation in PVP and then getting slaughtered to the point of allegedly having PTSD. Some of you may know that stream as the one where c!Techno had his infamous 'hunters and prey' speech, by the way.

In December (real-life time), c!Q cited MCM-trauma as one of his more personal reasons for hunting c!Techno down as part of the Butcher Army. The content creators then joked about them making MCM canon to the DSMP, and while the content creators were lighthearted about it, MCM therefore became a dead-serious, fully-fledged part of the DSMP lore.

I'm not 100% sure if other Weeks of MCM are considered canonical (they might be), but there's solid confirmation to how Weeks 1 and 6 are specified to be canon. cc!Q participated in Weeks 1, 2, 6, 8, and 12 of MCM, but since I cannot find the kill records of Weeks 8 and 12, let's hypothetically take those off the list for Q-and-Techno encounters (for now, I might return if/when I get more data). In MCM Week 2, the two did not actively interact (i.e. kill each other) at any point, which leaves us with Weeks 1 and 6, and wouldn't you know it — those are the two Weeks where Quackity got murked "so many times".

Week 1: Q's deaths in Rounds 6 and 8 are both attributed to Techno, but the one in Round 8 was actually death-by-border, which doesn't really count. Round 6, however, Techno just hunted Q down to the point he had no way out, border or enchanted diamond sword to the torso. (Techno POV + Quackity POV)

Week 6: Unlike the earliest MCM Weeks, this one only had Hunger Games in Rounds 1 and 9 (beginning and end), and not every single round. Q also happened to get knocked out of the game by Techno in both rounds. (Round 1: (Quackity POV + Techno POV) (Round 9: Quackity POV + Techno POV)

I was a little skeptical at first that one encounter would lead to enough trauma to have a PTSD diagnosis, but after remembering and looking up Week 6, then taking that into consideration as well, I am not quite as skeptical of the PTSD claim anymore.

And here are an additional 6 mysteries, or details that make the MCM encounters angstier (excluding anything related to inter-worldly canon life-counts):

Schlatt was teamed with Techno during Week 6, meaning c!Q also knew him at least in passing before all three of them joined the DSMP at different times (excluding the possibility of SMP Live being canon, which opens up a different can of worms that I am not equipped to deal with). Now recall c!Q and c!Schlatt interacting again on the DSMP… no, I am not happy about this. Especially bearing in mind Schlatt during Round 9 of Week 6 (see link).

During Week 6 Round 1, after spotting Q + JunkyJanker, Techno decided to go after them and avoid Yammy and her teammate because the latter two were "sentient players". In other words… ouch.

On a funnier note, right after killing Q (in Week 6 Round 1), Techno got border-killed. TAKE THAT! Karma went and collected his debt, I suppose. /lh

Q getting bonked in Week 6 Round 9 took place in the water. If we are going with the Duck Hybrid theory that canon has provided crumbs of possible supporting evidence… ouch. Again.

On a side note, could MCM and related tournaments have caused trauma in other characters in the DSMP-verse?

Also, multiple other content creators who are now part of the DSMP also participated in MCM, e.g. Philza, Connor, BBH, Skeppy, even Dream at one point. Would MCM be counted as part of their backstories as well? How can we explain their participation in the event while still adhering to their respective canon backstories?

Compare and Contrast

It is unlikely for both of these backstories to work at the same time, due to their overlapping time frames. There is one exception to this, however, it's that c!Q was either let out of jail early, or was let out temporarily to participate in MCM for whatever reason.

The only thing that these two backstories have in common is that c!Q allegedly had PTSD from both (A and B), though we don't know if that was an official diagnosis or a self-diagnosis (for better or worse). So either way, cc!Quackity decided that he was gonna give his character canonical trauma the moment he stepped on the SMP, and then just rolled with it until the boulder was hurling unstoppably down the mountain slope.

[abumbledbee]

Fundy’s reaction to Michael

If you missed it, yesterday during stream Fundy and Philza were introduced to Michael, Tubbo and Ranboo’s adopted son. If you haven’t been following Tubbo and Ranboo’s storylines, they recently canonized their marriage and have decided to take the zombie pigman baby they found on Ranboo’s first day on the server as their child.

This stream I will argue is canon. Their interactions tiptoe the line of bits and canon at times, but the hostility Phil shows towards Fundy is very much canon, as well as a few other moments can’t be considered anything other than canon because of their importance. Though it was never confirmed, I’ll be writing this analysis taking their streams as in character moments.

Fundy begins their interaction by sneaking onto the snowy commune Phil, Techno, and Ranboo reside at, with a plan to build a dirt shack to live in as a “prank”. He says at the start of his stream that he wants to slowly build up a full house in the commune secretly over multiple streams. Ranboo spots him instantly and once cornered Phil immediately gets angry. He says Fundy’s lucky he didn’t kill him on sight for his part in the Butcher Army, and it’s clear their relationship despite blood ties is fully negative on Phil’s side. Fundy is quick to say it was because of peer pressure and points out Ranboo was also part of it, but Phil says he’s forgiven Ranboo because his memory problems make him easily manipulated.

Tubbo crashes the party and non-canonically kills Fundy. They all tease Fundy and play a game for him to get his stuff back, which ultimately ends up with Fundy getting everything back and Ranboo extending an invite to Phil to meet Michael. Fundy tags along despite not being invited, and Tubbo and Ranboo have a heated discussion over whether they want to let Fundy meet Michael or not. They tell Fundy and Phil both that they got married and Michael is their son, and Fundy immediately loses interest and says he doesn’t want to go but ends up following anyways.

On the way there Tubbo mentions how Phil would technically be Michael’s grandfather since Phil is his ‘unbiological father’ (per tubbo’s wording) and they jokingly say Michael will be his only and favorite grandchild. Fundy laughs it off and keeps reminding Phil that he has a grandkid already, himself. Phil ignores him and tells Tubbo Michael likely will be his favorite, because his other betrays him every second he gets. They pause on their travels and Phil tells Fundy that he has a LOT of redeeming to do before Phil will consider them related again. It’s clear he is holding a lot of anger still about the Butcher Army, and he’s directing most of it at Fundy.

Tubbo asks why he isn’t getting the same treatment and Phil tells Tubbo “Don’t make me start, I’ll deal with you later.” It’s clear that Phil is treating Tubbo better despite Techno’s harsher feelings towards Tubbo (government-related hostility) over Fundy, and I think it has a lot to do with their family ties. Phil is technically closer to Tubbo relationship-wise than Fundy despite being biologically related to Fundy, and I think it gives Tubbo an edge, even if Phil doesn’t mean to. Having had a part in raising Tubbo, even reluctantly, still means he’s given favoritism. The way he spoke to both of them felt like he was telling Fundy he has to find his own way to redeem himself, but Tubbo he’s willing to try and talk to without negative feelings taking over. I also wouldn’t question for a second that Ranboo’s relationship with Tubbo makes a big difference too, as we’ve seen Phil literally call himself a Ranboo apologist earlier in the stream and it’s clear he cares for him a lot. 

They arrive to Snowchester and are introduced to Michael, who is upstairs in the nursery Tubbo and Ranboo built for him earlier on Tubbo’s stream. It is incredibly clear how attached they are to him from the start, both from how they speak to him to how lovingly decorated his room is, including 3 family portraits of all three of them together. They introduce Phil to Michael as his grandfather, and Fundy as his cousin. 

Fundy along with Phil are both a bit speechless at the start, which is to be expected as they weren’t aware Michael is a zombie pigman baby. Fundy asks where they found him, and starts questioning their parenting almost immediately. He asks why Michael can’t go outside and tries to open the windows. Him and Phil both begin to question their parenting methods, scrutinizing everything they can.

Tubbo warns Fundy if he opens a window again he will kill him, and Ranboo in retort to Fundy’s criticism asks him to remind them all of what experience he has with parents. I think it’s super interesting that Ranboo was the one to say that, as he’s usually not someone who openly confronts others. It’s a great reminder both of the tension he still has with Fundy, and how emotionally attached Ranboo is to Michael. Phil makes a joke about Michael being patient zero for covid and Fundy laughs and continues it, and Tubbo kills him again for insulting their kid. Fundy tells him if he comes back and any of his stuff is missing, he will hurt Michael. Phil takes some of his armor and purposely waits to see what Fundy does, but luckily Fundy realizes and doesn’t hurt him.

They leave on a mostly positive note, except Phil accidentally kills Ghost Squeeks when a creeper he made explode trapped it under ice. On Fundy’s way out he also accidentally sets off a creeper and Phil makes an offhand comment that “It runs in the family” and Fundy is overjoyed to hear Phil refer to him as family.  He then runs off to the snow commune again and starts working on his shack.

Fundy’s constant badgering of Tubbo and Ranboo’s parenting was a really odd thing I hadn’t expected from him, considering he isn’t a parent himself. I can understand Phil doing it, but Fundy was actually the first to start questioning them, and even went as far as to threaten Michael. Later when he finds a zombie jockey and his chat suggests he be a playmate for Michael, he says no because he hates Michael. A part of me wonders if this isn’t an underlying jealousy that Fundy himself might not even recognize. It was almost like seeing a happy, and so far very functional, family ticked him off and he immediately started trying to find flaws in their parenting. Like he needed proof that they weren’t as good as they seemed. It felt like he wasn’t handling the idea that there could be a child on this server that wouldn’t have parents that choose raising a nation over a child, that there could be a child who’s surrounded by proof of love at all times. It makes his building of the dirt home by Phil’s base all the more sad. In my opinion, Fundy is using this “prank home” as an excuse to be close to Phil again, his only blood relative remaining and the only source of possible affection he has left.

[sapphire-knight]

Welcome to a new episode of Sapphire Rambles, today's topic being:

Just as c!Tommy is a simbol of Care, c!Fundy is a simbol of Love.

Let me explain.

(There are going to be 3 principal points to this rant, and each of them is gonna end with a Tl;dr in purple, so it's easier to follow)

If you're a regular in the Fundy tag (or in the Ranboo tag since this argument gets often brought up in relation to C!Ranboo), you might have already seen some rants talking about how C!Fundy is an incredibly loving person, willing to chase after the people he care about if he sees the tiniest hint that mending their relationship is possible, even if they hurted him in the past.

Yeah you are going to see the same argument again here in the first part, but I promise this gets interesting

This became more clear after the Break, when he decided to try and mend his relationship with Philza and Ranboo even if they weren't at all on good terms at the moment, but he thought it was worth it so he tried and will keep on trying anyways, but we have examples of Fundy's really loving and forgiving nature back to the Revolutionary era

Everyone knows about Eret's betrayal I'm sure, but one thing people seem to skim over is how it effected Fundy, because there's the really high possibility that he was the one who was hurted the most by it.

For everyone who has some spotty memory (me too sometimes fam), Eret was the closest person to Fundy at the time, the two being really close friends, so the betrayal must have had a terrible effect on his emotional health, but you know how it went?

It went that Fundy was the first person to reach out to Eret and start to forgive his actions. Fundy always valued his friendships above the side he was in. So even tho he was a L'manburg abitant, he still thought of Eret as a dear friend to him and did his best to not make them feel alone or isolated

There are really few examples of people Fundy actually has an issue with, but even here Hate is a strong and mostly wrong word to apply, for example:

- Wilbur: as we are shown in the interactions with Ghostbur, Fundy didn't hate Wilbut for how he neglected and patronized him, it made him upset (as we saw when Ghostbur called him "his little champion" and he ran away) but he never hated Wilbur for that. The only thing he didn't forgive him was deciding to die, leaving him. And his issue with Ghostbur is not aknowledging or taking responsability. But he doesn't hate Ghostbur, he can talk to him in a civil manner even if the Ghost pretty much upsets him. And about Wilbur? Fundy loved Wilbur, the thing that hurted him was he taking the decision to definitivly leave him.

- Technoblade: even before Doomsday, the correct word of Fundy's feelings towards Techno has never been Hate, but Fear. A lot of people seemed to miss this point about the Butcher Army as a whole, but they weren't move by hate, even if they tried to make it look like they were. They were terrified. On their way to Techno's house, it was more clear than ever that they were TERRIBLY afraid of Techno. The Butcher army was never a movement of hate, but a bad reaction to a traumatic event that scarred them with fear. Also, after the Break? Fundy understands why Techno wanted L'manburg gone, so he doesn't hate him for that.

- Jschlatt: if you followed Fundy's pov, it won't be a surprise me saying that Fundy doesn't hate Jschlatt, but it may be news to other people, since one of the last interaction between the two was... anything but positive. I still shiver at the caravan scene. But even after all he's done, Fundy can't bring himself to completly hate Jschlatt, even if he did a lot of horrible things and was a horrible person, he still doesn't hate him. Fundy took with him Jschlatt's sword, keeping it as a relic and a memory of the man.

There is no one in the server, probably not even Dream Himself, that Fundy full-on hates. No matter how much they hurted him and everyone else, he just. Doesn't hate them. He's able to see the humanity in everyone, even if he wishes he could just hate people that wronged him. He was always forgiving and loving, these two aspects of him becoming even more prominent after his Break.

Tl;dr: Fundy is a character incredibly full of love and almost always willing to forgive and mend relationships with people he cares about at the moment he sees the possibility.

Now that I got the part most talked about out of the way, I'm taking the second tangent. Let's talk about Self-love.

It's not news the fact that there are really few characters, if not actually none of them, who love themselves. Might it be for trauma or for guilt, none of the characters actually love themself and act out of self-love.

Sometimes there are characters that act for themselves, but that is different from acting out of self-love.

Acting for themselves means doing something to achieve an objective that you want, for example: Eret's betrayal.

Eret betrayed L'Manburg becayse he was promised the role of King of the SMP by Dream, she acted out of her wish for power and control. That's an example of acting for yourself.

Acting out of self-love means doing something with the only cardinal reason being that it's good for you, taking care of yourself doing something that makes you feel better and healthier. That is acting out of self-love.

And, if you look at the server, you can easily see that no one has ever done that, expect for one single time.

The closest wrong thing you might be thinking off right now is when Tommy escaped from exile, but that was not an act driven by self-love. Sure, Tommy saved himself and went towards a healthier mindset, but what drove him towards that direction was not a desire to be better and good for himself, but rage towards Dream and a desire to be back to his family and friends.

You know what the only act that could possibly be out os self-love is?

Fundy going away for a years and a half, taking a break from everyone

Think about it for a second. Why did he do that? Let's start putting away the wrong possibilities:

- Doing it for someone: Fundy at the moment was heavily spiraling towards paranoia, wanting to be a villain to make everyone hate him. If that was his mindset at the time, why would he even want to get a break for anyone?

- Having a second cause: what second cause could there be for a choice like getting away from an unhealthy situation to heal? The only second reason a choice like this could have is healing to help someone else heal when you're feeling better, but refer to the last point

- ... that's virtually it

The only reason that could have caused Fundy to decide to take a break from the whole situation because it was unhealthy and heal was because he wanted to heal. For himself. He genuinly wanted himself to feel better for the only reason being, simply, feeling better.

Fundy is the only character for now to have ever taken an important choice for making himself feel better and letting himself heal.

Tl;dr: Fundy taking the year and a half break was the only decision on the entire SMP taken only out of self-love and genuine desire to feel better for the sole reason of feeling better.

Fundy is a representation of love, in any shape or form. He is unapologetically full of love and care, both for himself and for the people around him.

Anyway, the third part is a theory, if younwill kindly follow me:

The above analysis is the exact reason why the Egg causes Fundy an extreme repulsion.

Since both Fundy and Tubbo said that the Egg seems connected to Dreamons, I'm going to roll with that idea in mind.

As we all know, one of the only known weaknesses of a Dreamon is Love and this Dreamon seems to be acting and controlling people out of wishes and desires.

Fundy should be a perfect candidate for the Egg to manipulate, isn't he? One of Fundy's most known characteristic is his research for love, affection and appreciation from people, and we know the egg has no problem using love to manipulate someone, because he is manipulating Bbh using his (platonic?) love for Skeppy against him.

So why the egg would cause a repulsing reaction to Fundy?

Tommy seems immune because he doesn't wish for anything right now, he has everything that he wants

Tubbo also has a repulsive reaction, but is not a hateful reaction but one driven by fear and sadness, the Egg purposefully trying to scare him away, probably to make him unable to fight against him

But why Fundy's reaction would be full-on hate?

I think the egg was trying to do with Fundy the same thing he's doing with Tubbo, scaring him so badly to drive them to the point where they cannot fight back out of complete fear, but it's not working.

It's not working because the Egg fears Fundy, fears how full of pure, unfiltered and unapologetic love his heart is, fears how he's the living representation of the fact that love, of any kind, is the strongest emotion out there. Fundy already was able to defeat a Dreamon because of his own love, and now that he's more emotionally stable and has decided to follow his heart more, mending relationship with people he loves even if they hurt him?

Fundy is an incredibly dangerous threat to the Egg.

So fear is not enough to keep the fox away, he cannot let him anywhere near his plans.

He fears that if he tried the fear treatment on Fundy, Fundy would be able to break out of the web of terror as soon as someone he loved was caught in the crossfire

So he tried pushing him away in a different way, using hate instead of fear, because since Fundy is such a love-driven person all around, the best way to keep him away is to use hate, just like Tubbo is often driven by hope and optimism, so the best way to keep him far fron where he could be a danger is to use sadness and fear.

Tl;dr: The Egg is making Fundy hate him because that's the only emotion that could actually keep Fundy away from him, because he, being a Dreamon, fears how full of love Fundy is.

[softyoongiionly]

Portraits of a Tiger|| 01

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

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

Pairing: Merchant! Reader x Warrior! Yoongi

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

Word Count: 12k

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

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

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

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

War.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Death.

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

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

It should be normal.  

To most of your district, it is.  

To you?

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

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

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

Man is never content.

The struggle for power is never ending.  

As you grow up, you learn to adapt.  

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

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

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

Today starts as any other.  

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

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

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

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

They have sacrificed so much.

The market displays its usual scenery.  

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

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

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

Thankfully, business is decent.  

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

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

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

“What do you have today __?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yah, what are you talking about?”

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

Instantly, your heart stalls in your chest.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I heard that he never sleeps.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jane, please...” He grumbles

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

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

“You do?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

However, the noise never comes.  

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

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

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

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

“Got it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s a sword.  

This man certainly isn’t a civilian.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He acts as though he is in danger.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A warrior indeed.

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

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

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

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

“Is this some kind of decoration?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you have any more of that salve?”

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

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

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

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

His hand displays evidence of the life he lives.  

Rough, calloused and blistered...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Or why his skin is on fire...

Or why his heart is thrashing around in his chest.

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

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

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

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

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

Did you smell weird?

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jane does not follow suit.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You can’t help but giggle.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why are we whispering?...”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She’s not wrong.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She’s a menace.

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

Your parents are asleep by the time you return home.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He didn’t seem scary.

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

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

Beautiful and deadly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Collect the essentials and gather your loved ones

Arm yourself

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

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

Negotiate

Simple in theory but, rarely in practice.

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

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

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

“Rachel! Over here!”

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

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

This could end very badly.  

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

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

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

“Look!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Goodness, he really is something huh?”

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

“Stop drooling over the calvary...”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But it doesn’t come.  

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

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

Overexcited villagers quickly shout various commentary at him,

“Kill him!”

“Cut his head off!”

“Make him pay!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You have to admit that you’re shocked.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And she is absolutely right.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“This has nothing to do with the Tiger?”

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

“I know that look-”

“Ugh what look?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And uh about that Jungkook boy-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Absolutely terrifying.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh my god hyung, it’s so good...”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And Yoongi is?”

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

Yoongi.

So that was his name.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is this where the tree bark grows?”

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

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

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

He is chewing it as you instructed.

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

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

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

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

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

“You did what?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Awkward?” Yoongi smirks

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His curiosity blooms, “And why is that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He decides he enjoys the sound very much.

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

“What do you think of them?”

“The rumors?”

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

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

“I wish more people had that mindset.”  

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You too.”

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

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

Perhaps this would be so much more.

[itsmoonphobic]

Phil's character and his life system on the DreamSMP won't leave me alone....Here is some interestin' facts I can't stop thinkin' about :)

We all know that the butcher army's number one target is Techno right? And they are planin' to get rid of him the fastest way possible by gatherin' information from people who interacted with him in order to find out where his current location is becouse nobody knows.Tubbo said that he expects posters to be hung up everywhere through L'manberg for propaganda,they want to gather as many people as they possibly can to be on their side against Technoblade,becouse together they are more affective.

So what would happen if the BA somehow reveals that Phil is in the possession of Techno's compass? That thing leads them straight towards his hideout in the north,without a doubt I think that the BA would immediately hurt/kill or hold Phil hostage in order to get the compass.Now if they actually decide to murder Phil,he would lose his only life becouse unlike the rest of the SMP Phil is stuck in the gamemode hardcore and he needs to play with a single canon life- while the other two lives he was meant to own were gifted to his eldest son Techno.

The thought of Phil dyin' to such a harsh reason like the government's revenge on his son is terrifyin' and truly heartbreakin'- I'm already scared for Phil and now long he will last before he loses his life,I don't want him to pass away this early into the new Arc.On one side,Ghostbur would finally have some spirit company from his father but both Tommy and most importantly Techno would be absolutely devastated and furious.I don't think that most of the players on the SMP are aware of the fact that Phil's life consists of only one chance at said life,they most likely believe he will just respawn and continue on with the rest of his lives- But that's not the case.

If he dies once it's all over- so to imagine that Phil gets killed becouse the BA requires the compass to track Techno down makes me really sad and also excited??We all know how much Techno cares for Phil,we know he would kill in order for his father,his only friend,to be safe.He has shown the overprotective nature he has around Phil's presence and we have also noticed how much of Techno's trust and loyalty rests on Phil's shoulders.Not only did his son give him a compass to always run to him in the need of help or anythin' really- but he practically opened his heart for him.Afterall,Techno did mention that he would give Phil the world if he desired so.

Now I already know the reaction we would get out of Techno if the BA or anyone really was dumb enough to try and go agaisnt Phil- It would end in mass genocide and complete destruction over the whole server.Techno might be in retirement right now,takin' a small break from his violent and bloodthirsty nature,but I wholeheartedly know that the moment somebody even lays a single finger on Phil it's already too late and pretty much over for them. Techno would,without hesitation,ruin them and make their life a livin' definition of a nightmare you can't wake up from. He would go so far as to destroy everyone and everythin' in his path to avenge Phil and his life,becouse in Techno's eyes his father was the last person who deserved to die.

Now that Phil's gone Techno is all alone,by himself in a world that's controlled by a government he so desperately tried to tear apart and let it crumble to pieces- He would be confused,scared and thirsty for revenge.Phil's death is a major problem in the whole plotline,especially the one Techno is writin' for his character! I really hope that nobody attempts to try to get to Techno by usin' Phil,it wouldn't end well in any way whatsoever and would only make things worse.I don't really know how Tommy would react but I know that his relationship towards his father in the SMP isn't the best,we all know that he's careful aswell as skeptical around Phil becouse he sticks close to Techno, Tommy's eldest brother and the person he hates the most. [for now atleast,i just have a feelin' that both Tommy and Ghostbur will join Techno's side soon and that the right time hasn't come yet for them to realize this-]

What I'm tryin' to say here is that if Phil dies,he's gone forever.There are no second opportunities,once those ten hearts are all drained from their red color it's over.I would be so dejected and sorrowful if the BA actually considers the idea to take that one,precious life away from Phil.And now that I think about it- Phil is conflicted.

On one side,the first thing he did when he arrived in L'manberg was murder his own son in cold blood,and the worst part was that Phil didn't even want to do it- He was handed over the blade by Wilbur himself.And by rebuildin, the city,Phil is workin' on finishin' his son's unfinished symphony for him since he isn't here to do it himself.And not only that but he also has to take care of the ghost of said dead son which is extremely tragic to think about.He wants to gain the citizens trust and wants to keep all of them under control by keepin' the atmosphere light.Phil's grandson,Fundy,is now also under his care which is a extra task on his part,add the fact that Wilbur forgot most of the things he committed and Phil tries his best to make him remember and recollect his lost memories.

Then there's Tommy,the most complicated son he has to deal with throughout all of this.Not only did Tommy get exiled- but he lost his best friend,his brothers and their beloved city they created together.His discs are the only thing dancing around in his head and keepin' him sane,due to the neglect and loss of major importance he became suicidal,thinkin' about losin' his last life to himself.He's all alone and is blamin' everyone else as the bad guy,he doesn't understand that half of the reason this happend to him was his own fault,his own selfishness and greed.Phil knows Tommy's stubbornness and temper,his hot headedness and that all he wants is everythin' to be the way it was at the beginnin' when it all started-

How Techno is,no doubt,Phil's favorite son.Their relationship is strong and built up on solid ground due to the past they spent together by eachother's side.Their bond and healthy correspondence makes them an unstoppable duo and Phil would do anythin' to keep it that way and enjoy his son's company as long as he can.He helps Techno with both small tasks and difficult quests,if he invites him of course,Phil would never tag along if Techno doesn't want company.He understands Techno,he understands the way he thinks and acts,the reasons behind his decisions and all of his activities.Phil was the first person to show Techno what it felt like to be loved and cared about,to be accepted into a world full of misery.And in return Techno granted him his respect,kindness and loyalty to keep up their parallel.Phil knows if he would join Techno that the way others view him would instantly change and shift towards bein' negative.

The fact that he has a Antartic Empire shield proves how much he wants to be on Techno's side and bring back the vibes of the empire they lead in the south,it's pretty much obvious that he's virtually already on Techno's side but he doesn't make a final statement on it whatsoever.He never spoke up about it genuinely,he never confirmed the suspicions of him joinin' Techno but I think it's self explanatory who's side he will be on.

And now comes the prison- Probably the most fucked thing that has ever been created.The idea was requested by Dream and Sam is the one deconstructin' it righ now.As for now we don't know much information or details about this jail but we for sure know who it's meant for- Techno.Like Dream stated when asked about it "Somebody who is very capable" and "Somebody I can't kill" which clearly describes Techno- He may never die,but it can be attempted to contain him in a cell.Now my prediction is that the BA and maybe even more people [Dream,Sam,the Badlands,etc.] will capture Phil and hold him imprisoned there until Techno willingly comes along to save Phil's life,they will certainly lure Techno in there by usin' his father as bait.

I have no idea if ANY of this stuff wiln actually happen' in the SMP,but even if they don't- Phil's character and story progress is one of the most underrated and interestin' ones.

[enkelimagnus]

Mezuzah

Bucky Barnes Gen, 1886 words, rated T for Hydra shit

Jewish Bucky Barnes, pre TFATWS, post Endgame

A month after his trial, Bucky Barnes gets a house and starts a slow process of reclaiming his identity and home from Hydra, more or less literally.

Read on AO3

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

The house is quiet and empty when he opens the door. It’s eerie. He isn’t used to this kind of quiet. No one lives here. No one has lived here in a really long time. Perhaps since… he was a teenager.

It’s clean, it’s relatively well-equipped. It’s made for people who come in and out, almost like a hotel room. Everything is perfectly nondescript. Everything is calculated to be unremarkable.

The corridor ahead is painted off-white, the floor is hardwood. It’s simple. There is a stock photo of a bee and a flower hung on the wall. Bucky immediately hates it.

He can see some doors further forward, a staircase. All off-white paint, hardwood floor, ridiculously innocuous and impersonal frames on the walls.

He stands there for a long moment, with the keys in his right hand, staring inside at the empty corridor and the empty rooms and the emptiness. He doesn’t move. If anyone’s watching him, they probably think he’s crazy. They’re not wrong.

He exhales deeply.

This is his house now.

Up until and including three hours ago, it was a Hydra safehouse. It fell into the hands of the American government the day before, thanks to his activity as… Hydra-sniffing dog for the Secretary of Defense?

And now it’s… officially his house. He signed a paper he barely read to gain ownership of this place, because the Shiny in charge of him whom he can’t remember the fucking name of got orders to find him accomodation that wasn’t an army housing unit. His head is swimming.

The house was empty when they got there, earlier. Still filled with basic amenities, sheets on the beds in the three bedrooms, cans of food in the pantry, bodywash and shampoo and a first aid kit looking more like an ER’s supply cupboard than something used for everyday household nicks and cuts.

Oh, and two corpses in the basement, still chained to the chairs they’d been tortured on.

They’re gone now. Or at least Bucky hopes they are, because if someone decided to play this kind of joke on him… Who is he kidding? He’s not gonna hurt anyone, that would be… all shades of bad.

He thought they would try and put the house on the market. It’s nice, after all, a row house with red bricks and white paint, tall windows and a small staircase. He takes a step back and lets himself trace the edge of the door, the parts of the façade he can see. It doesn’t wear the marks of Hydra.

It wears… other marks.

His eyes catch on two marks on the right side of the doorpost, at about the height of his shoulder. Two holes, the kind of holes left by nails. One above the other, but not parallel. In diagonal. Tilting towards the inside of the house.

There was a mezuzah there.

Bucky walks into the house, towards the closest doorpost he can find. In the wall, on the right side, at about the height of his shoulder, there are two holes that confirm it. There were mezuzot.

There were Jews.

He feels everything go cold as ice inside of his chest. A pit opens in his stomach. This was a Jewish home. This was a Hydra safehouse.

He runs the fingers of his right hand over the holes. How long… Too long.

The last time he touched a mezuzah was on June 14th, 1943, when he walked out of his parents’ house for the very, very last time. It’s a few miles away now, or at least what’s left of it. He hasn’t visited. He doesn’t know the state of it. He doesn’t want to know.

Bucky takes a hard, hurt breath. This house was a Jewish home, and then a Hydra safehouse, and briefly, for a few minutes, it was a US government property. And now… now it’s his.

What the fuck is he supposed to do with this?

He has a house now. An empty house, with no one in it, and phantoms of inexcusable horrors and pains, echoes of the ones he saw in his community back in the day. Echoes of the ones he was around for the past… seventy fucking years.

What is he supposed to do with that?

Perhaps not leave the door open and your shit outside, Barnes.

Yeah. That would be a good start.

He walks back to the doorway and grabs his bag, pulling in his belongings. Some clothes, some toiletries, some meds, shit to take care of his arm. And one stupid postcard from that awful Smithsonian exhibit about Steve.

He shuts the door behind him, the noise echoes down the empty corridor and he sighs heavily. This… is going to be annoying.

The house seems to have been cleared of everything: the caches of money and weapons hidden behind walls, files and paperwork… Bodies. He’s never going into that fucking basement.

All he has to do now is… get settled, and wait for his next call. Perhaps the files will lead them to more safehouses, more Hydra cells waiting in the corners of the world.

It’s been ten years since Hydra revealed itself, a little less since its last leaders fell. But they’re still somehow… there. Acting on no one’s orders, following their own ideologies, usually nothing more than small white supremacist groups. Neo nazis.

Because the nazis, like Hydra, don’t seem to ever want to fucking die.

It’s 2023, and Bucky was really hoping he wouldn’t be still fighting the same fucking assholes.

Perhaps he’s stuck forever fighting the same enemy. Perhaps that’s his punishment for what he did. It feels almost mythological. Like Sisyphus pushing up that boulder, except it’s him punching Nazis into the ground with a metal arm.

Except he lives in a Hydra safehouse that used to be a Jewish home, and isn’t that fucking poetic? It’s not like he’s trying to reclaim his own identity from Hydra’s claws or anything.

Putting his things into cabinets doesn’t take long, and he ends up standing in the middle of the living room after a moment. There’s only one armchair and one chair, no table, a tv… And the open kitchen.

The outside of the house is nice, but the inside isn’t supposed to be the most pleasant, he guesses.

So… what next? Putting on tv and trying to get some shut-eye before his next call? It’s not late, only just past noon. There’s so much time ahead before he’s supposed to try to rest.

He sits down in the armchair, surveilling his surroundings. He needs weapons. He assumes the army took every single one they found. He has a couple of knives, but perhaps he should try and hide some guns around. Just in case.

He’d only just gotten used to the motel rooms they had him stay in. His trial was a month ago. And it’s been a month of back to back Hydra shit, interspersed with therapy sessions, and those motel rooms…

How is he supposed to know what a home is supposed to feel like? His place in Romania, when he was trying to piece his mind back together, had also been a safehouse, and he’d been a fugitive. That didn’t leave much space for interior design. The last home he had was his parents’ house. With the radio always on -- because Deborah would never turn it off -- with the smell of food, and his mother’s voice… With the bookcase filled with everyone’s siddurim and the chumashim, and the haggadot and all these beautiful, beautiful books. With the mezuzot on the doorposts.

Perhaps… perhaps it’s time this house gets to be a home again.

He’s not a good enough Jew for it. He’s barely a Jew at all. His dog tags are carved with P and not H, his magen david is long lost in the Italian mud, he’s spent the last seventy years scrubbed off anything Jewish about himself and acting as a Nazi gun.

But perhaps… this house has been desecrated too. It’s been robbed and sundered. And perhaps, he’s just the right Jew for this? Probably not. What he’s done can never be forgiven. What he’s done… who he is…

He closes his eyes for a moment. It can’t hurt, right?

He pulls himself up from the armchair, grabs his wallet and walks out. His left hand is hidden under his glove. No one will know.

He walks out of that house with the quiet promise that he’s coming back.

Bucky’s steps take him towards 13th Avenue, towards where the old shops used to be, back when he was a smart-mouthed kid.

Borough Park is even more Orthodox now, it seems. Hasidim, perhaps. He doesn’t know. His Hebrew school days are so fucking far from him, and trying to think about those kinds of details make headaches bloom under his skull.

He makes it to a store that looks small and mostly empty and takes a deep, deep shuddering breath.

It goes… fine. The cashier seems a little surprised, but he gets what he’s coming for. Six mezuzot cases and the scrolls to go with them. He has to buy the nails and the hammer to affix them, but… they rest heavy in the plastic bag he carries in his hand. They feel… heavier than they actually are.

The cashier slid him an extra piece of paper on the way out, with words in Hebrew on it. Except it’s been… seventy years and he can’t read Hebrew anymore.

He remembers there should be a specific blessing for affixing mezuzot, but again, his memories of the words are blurry and aching and he ends up googling it on his phone on the way home, once he has the nails and the hammer.

Once he’s standing at the doorpost with his hammer, nails and mezuzah, he stops.

One of his hands is metal and he… he doesn’t know how to feel about holding those precious objects with that hand. That hand of destruction and pain. So it’s either… he holds the case with the metal hand and hammers with the flesh one, or the other way around and he doesn’t know which one is right.

Probably neither.

This is never going to be perfect. His tongue will butcher the words of the blessing no matter how many times he repeats them. But he’s promised he would make this house a home again and this.. This is the way to do it.

So he does it. Metal hand holding the case and flesh one hammering.

Baruch atah Adonai, Eloheinu Melech haolam, asher kid’shanu b’mitzvotav v’tzivanu likboa m’zuzah.

He butchers that language and those words, but it feels.. It feels better than a lot of the things he’s done lately.

He’s precise with his strikes, and it doesn’t take long for all the doorposts of the house, except the bathrooms ones and the basement one, have a mezuzah affixed to them.

The cases themselves are a far cry from the ones he remembers, but it’s… it’s fine. It’s good. It’s enough .

Something settles inside of him. He’s going to have so many nightmares while sleeping under this roof, he’s going to struggle and hate everything, but he’s going to be safe. And the house is going to be a home again.

[babbushka]

Reunions

Clyde Logan x Reader 

3k ; Minor angst (Military past/reuniting with military buddies) it’s really very fluffy I promise

(originally posted on AO3 12/28/2018, cross-posting here for my tumblr friends)

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

Most Monday mornings found you in the front lawn, tending to the flowers you had planted there before the heat of the day set in, and this particular Monday was no exception. 

The birds were chirping brightly, your watering can was full, and the day just seemed glad to see you. Clyde was back in the small house the two of you shared, and was just waking up. 

He always slept in late after the weekends when Duck Tape was at its busiest, so you had taken up this routine as a way to be productive while letting him get some much needed rest – on days where he let you out of his python grip, that was.

A bonus to being outside early was you got to greet the neighbors and various people passing by your property. People walking their dogs or taking their kids to the nearby school all got a friendly greeting from you as you tended your garden, and the mailman was no exception. You usually had a small token of appreciation for him on Mondays, as a way to start the week off nicely.

“Good morning ma’am! Only a couple letters for y’all today.” The mailman said as he pulled up in his truck outside your house.

You brushed your hands off on your gardening pants and took the small stack from him with a smile. You knew you were the last house on his route, he had told you as much one morning a few months ago, and so you didn’t worry about the fresh loaf of homemade bread getting squished or damaged in his care. It was wrapped in brown paper and tied with butcher’s twine like it was every week, with a small paper tag on it that you wrote down this week’s flavor – roasted garlic and rosemary.

“Thank you Patrick, here’s something nice for you and Shelley. Have a good day!” You handed him the loaf and he didn’t hesitate to take in a big sniff, the garlic was pretty strong but he grinned like it was Christmas morning.

“You’re always so kind (Y/N), thank ya! It smells delicious, you have a good one.” He gave you a small wave before driving down the block.

Heading back towards the house, you started leafing through the letters. One was the cable and internet bill, another was a weekly newsletter of the local community that you had subscribed to, but the third was addressed to Clyde specifically.

It was small and rectangular, and a little dinged up, but it looked like it had traveled a long way to get to Clyde. His name and address was inked in blue pen that had gotten a little smudged, and you could only wonder how many times it had gotten delivered to the wrong place before it finally arrived to your humble home.

“Clyde honey, something came in the mail for you today.” You said as you walked through the door. Your boyfriend was fully awake and munching on some frosted flakes at the kitchen table, reading through a new book he picked up at the library.

“Just put it in the pile, I’ll sort through it later.” Clyde responded sweetly, making you giggle.

“It’s not a bill, someone sent you a personal letter.” You leaned over the table and gave him a morning breath kiss, placing the letter on the table next to his book. “Return address is from Utah, do you know anyone from there?”

You had thought all of Clyde’s family was here in West Virginia. Well, now with Jimmy across state line that might no longer be true, but still you had never heard your man talk about anyone from all the way across the country.

“Can you get me a butter knife?” Clyde asked, his voice gone quiet as he stared at the letter.  

“Sure thing honey.” You said with a slight frown, grabbing one from the drawer and handing it to him.

Clyde didn’t respond, using the butter knife as a makeshift letter opener to tear through the envelope carefully. Inside was a single sheet of paper, folded into thirds, and was completely covered in more blue ink. From your angle you couldn’t make out the writing exactly, but Clyde’s reaction to it was more concerning to you than the contents.

“Is everything okay? You look a little pale.” You asked, sitting down next to him and hugging yourself close to his arm, the scarred one. He hadn’t yet put on his prosthetic since he had just woken up, but you didn’t mind in the least. You liked that he trusted you enough to be comfortable around you.

“I’m okay.” He said with a deep breath, folding the letter back down and tucking it under his book.

You didn’t want to press the issue, so you just gave him a kiss and moved to the cabinet to get a bowl so you could have some breakfast with him and spend the rest of the morning together.

The next day, Clyde came home early from work and surprised you with takeout from your favorite Chinese restaurant for dinner. You had been watching TV, waiting for him to come home, and at the sound of the front door unlocking you were already running across the house to jump into his arms and cover his face with kisses.

“Honey you’re home!” You grinned, laughing as he lifted you and spun you around.

“Yup, I felt like spending the evening with my favorite lady.” He smiled back at you, giving you one long kiss before releasing his hold on you.

You giggled, still dizzy from the spinning, and took the heavy takeout bag from him. He followed you into the living room where you laid out the spread of containers, and you caught him fidgeting with the buckle on his belt – a nervous habit of his that you picked up on pretty early on.

“(Y/N)?” Clyde said, and you frowned slightly at the apprehension in his voice. “I was wonderin’…if you wouldn’t mind accompanyin’ me to a function this weekend.” He finished, and you were relieved that you didn’t have to prepare for dreadful news.

“You know I’ll always join you wherever you want me to.” You said, sitting on the couch and inviting him to his favorite spot: his head in your lap. “Is this about your friend from Utah? Are they going to be in town?” You asked, thinking about the letter.

“Yup. It ain’t just Tony either, it’s…” Clyde trailed off with a sigh, and your chest tightened for him. You knew there were a lot of things in Clyde’s past that you didn’t really know about, because he had had such a hard time living through them. The last thing you wanted to do was to make him deal with something he wasn’t ready for.

“You don’t have to tell me if it’s hard Clyde.” You said, stroking your fingers through his thick and luscious hair.

“I want to tell ya because it’s hard.” Clyde said, sitting up and taking your hand. He took a deep breath and looked you in the eye, something he was trying to be better at when he was nervous. “I know I don’t talk about it a lot, especially with me losin’ m’ arm and all, but I made some good pals overseas in the special forces. Some of them are having a bar-be-cue, a reunion of sorts, and I’ve been invited to go.”

He looked at you almost like he was afraid you’d say no, but you couldn’t help the smile that crept onto your face, and he felt a little more relaxed.

“Do we need to bring anything? I can whip up my famous mac n’ cheese.” You said, wanting him to know that you accepted every single part of him and his history.

“You don’t mind bein’ around a whole bunch of tough military types for the day?” Clyde asked, sounding slightly incredulous.

“If they mean a lot to you, they mean a lot to me.” You said, leaning in for a kiss.

Clyde’s heart soared, grinning against your lips as he kissed you back. He hadn’t spoken to his army buddies in a long time, at least since he had gotten a phone – otherwise he would have given them his number to call instead of having Tony send him a letter as the only way to reach him. He was nervous showing you more of that side of him, the side that had gotten injured and all the baggage that came along with it, but you had always been supportive and understanding, willing to listen and to help him through all the other bad parts of his life, he should have known you would be there for him during this too.

For the whole week leading up to the BBQ Clyde was nervous with excited energy. He had done a fashion show for you of different outfits he might wear, wanting your opinion on how he should wear his shirts. Should he shave? Should he cover his arm? Hat, or no hat?

You were patient and glad to help, giving your honest thoughts, like he should wear his shirts how he always does; tucked into his trousers and buttoned all the way up. No he shouldn’t shave, he looks handsome with the scruff he’s got, and no hat, it’ll get too hot.

You were an angel, and Clyde kept telling you that on the three hour drive up to Pittsburg, where Emmanuel lived and was hosting this whole thing. Before you two got out of the car, he gave your hand a firm squeeze, and you simply brought it to your lips and kissed the knuckles with a warm smile.

“Clyde Logan, you gentle giant how are ya?” A stocky man emerged from the front of the house when Clyde’s car beeped locked.

“I’m doing alright Emmanuel, it’s good ta see ya, you’re lookin’ pretty fit.” Clyde said, his demeanor immediately lightening up as he was crushed in a bear hug. The man, Emmanuel, ducked his head in a mock shy manner, before flexing and showing off his muscles.

“Thanks buddy! I’ve been spending a lot of time at the gym; they say swimming helps the back.” He shrugged, and Clyde just laughed. It was the first time he had laughed at something other than a corny joke you had made, and it made you grin.

“Clyde you never told us you had a smokin’ hot girlfriend!” Another man stepped out onto the front lawn, he was taller than Emmanuel, but not as tall as Clyde. You were pretty sure Clyde was always going to be the tallest man in the room, even among these guys.

“Shut up Mick,” Clyde teased without any real malice.

“Come on out back and come meet everyone!” Mick said, and the two of you followed him and Emmanuel through the house to the backyard, where it looked like a picture perfect scene out of a movie.

All the guys who were able rushed over to Clyde, and you couldn’t help but get emotional at how they all pulled him into a hug. It was clear to you that they hadn’t been together in a long time, and it warmed your heart to see them still caring about your man.

He managed to push through their wall of affection, and held out a hand for you, which you happily took.

“Everyone, this is (Y/N). (Y/N), this is Mick and his wife Kayla, Tony and his wife Anna, Ozzie, Emmanuel, and Reuben.” Clyde introduced you, and you shook hands with everyone, leaning over to give them kisses on the cheek like you had known these people your whole life.

“It’s so nice to meet everyone.” You said truthfully.

“I bet Clyde’s told you nothin’ about us!” Ozzie laughed, giving a playful elbow to Clyde’s side. “He still the strong silent type we knew back in the day?” He asked with a grin.

“I’m afraid you’re right. But I wouldn’t have him any other way.” You said, making Clyde blush scarlet. He kissed your cheek and the whole group of men wolf whistled, but you didn’t mind, you liked showing off how in love you were with this handsome man. “I brought mac n’ cheese, I hope that was alright.” You suddenly remembered the huge tinfoil covered tray you were holding.

“Damn Clyde, she’s gorgeous and brings food? You got yourself a keeper.” Tony winked, making Clyde wrap his good arm instinctively around your waist.

“You keep your hands to yourself now Tony.” Clyde warned, but he still had that smile on his face.

You stuck by Clyde’s side the entire night. You didn’t say much, but you didn’t have to. It was the men’s night to reconnect with one another after all these years away. Clyde wasn’t the only one to have gotten injured in the roadside mine that took his arm; it took Reuben’s right leg, and had caused Tony to go deaf in his left ear, and partially blind. None of them paid any attention to anyone’s prosthetics, unless it was to comment on how nice Clyde’s arm looked, with how high tech it was.

As the day progressed and more beers were consumed, they started to reminisce about the days when they were together overseas, each one having a different version of the same story. You couldn’t help but laugh at how Clyde seemed to be the mediator whenever two men bickered over minor details in a story, he had always been the calm and collected one in the group, that much was easy to tell.

Emmanuel brought out his tripod and camera, and they set up a timer to take a couple big group photos right when the light was golden, and you offered to take some photos of just the men. Tony had taken the camera from you afterwards, and told you to go stand over by Clyde, and he snapped a couple pictures of the two of you, grinning at one another like the love sick fools you were.

Everyone talked about what they were up to in life. Mick and Kayla were starting to try and have a baby, Emmanuel was the regional manager for a real estate firm in the area, Ozzie and Reuben were both working on memoirs of their time in the war, and Tony had just gotten married to Anna not five weeks earlier.

Clyde was very humble about his life with you, only saying that he was the owner of a bar back home, and that he spent every minute there or with you. You felt like the luckiest lady in the world with the way he smiled down at you, all you could do was sing Clyde’s praises and tell them about the wonderful things he does for the folks back home.

With the evening came s’mores and the passing around of old photo albums. You couldn’t help but snuggle close to Clyde on Emmanuel’s couch as you tried to get a good luck at a young Clyde with nearly shaven hair and a boy’s face. It struck you then just how young all these guys had been, but how young Clyde was in particular. He looked like he joined right out of high school. Clyde’s grip on your hand tightened as they flipped through the pages, some a little older, one in particular of Clyde showing off the tattoo he had on his forearm. You simply put your other hand on top of his, and squeezed back, silently letting him know you were there for him.

Not so long after that came the somber goodbyes, seeing as you and Clyde had three whole hours to drive back home. It was bittersweet, no one knew when they would all have time to coordinate like this again.

“I’m real glad you came.” Tony said, as he held out his hand for a goodbye shake.

“I’m glad y’all invited me.” Clyde said shyly.

“Are you kiddin’? I went through hell tryin’ to find out where to mail that letter! You’re not an easy man to find Clyde Logan.” Tony laughed, deep and scratchy, like he had been smoking a pack a day since the war.

Clyde released your hand for the first time all evening, to pull out a piece of paper from his pocket.

“Here’s my phone number, I want you to give it to all the guys. In case y’all ever want to call or something.” Clyde said, addressing the whole small party.

As Clyde started to say his goodbyes to the folks he had missed, you went around the room and hugged everyone goodbye yourself. As you pulled away from Mick he discreetly slipped the photo of a young Clyde Logan into your hand.

“I don’t know what you’ve done to him,” Mick started with a hushed voice, “But you’ve lit a fire in him like I’ve never seen before. I’m glad he has you.” He said.

“I’m glad to have him.” You said back, with a heartfelt smile, as you hugged him again.

A week or so later, the mailman brought you a small package from Utah, and some postcards from all over the country, no doubt sent by the other members of Clyde’s group. This time you happily recognized Tony’s handwriting and left it for Clyde to open, as he hadn’t come down for breakfast yet.

You had gone to work, but when you came home you noticed a few additions of décor to your kitchen; framed photographs of Clyde and his friends from the BBQ. One of the group, one of just the men that you had taken, and one of the two of you, smiling down at each other.

Clyde’s arm and tattoo was on full display, but so was the love you two had for one another, and that outshone anything else in the world.

[worldserasingandcreatinginmymind]

Flesh & Blood | Part Two

Series Summary: A mysterious stranger with ties to your past shows up in your small village

Chapter Summary: a quiet village, every day like the one before... until a mysterious stranger arrives

Pairing: Count Dracula x reader

Word Count: 2126

Warnings: none

A/N: as always spelling and grammar is not my strongest skill so please be kind :) if you want to be added to the taglist please drop me a message in my ask box

Y/B/D = your birth date, Y/H/T = your home town 

Masterlist | Part One

- - - - -

2020

The shrill beeping of your alarm wakes you up with a jump. You groan and roll over, picking up your phone from the bedside table and hitting the snooze button before dropping it back down. You allow yourself to stay in bed for the next 5 minutes, but its not long before the alarm is reminding you it’s time to get up and start the day. 

An hour later you're ready and leaving for work. You close the front door of the cottage you live in and head down the hill toward the village high street, taking in the views of the sea as you walk. You’ve lived in this village for as long as you can remember, but the view still makes you smile. 

The high street is one main road that runs through the small village and is lined with shops either side. As you walk down the street you greet various other villagers opening up their shops for the day. You hold your breath as you pass the butchers so you cant smell the scent of the uncooked meat hanging in the window. Then you pass the florist and take a deep breath, floral scents flooding your senses. You stop when you reach the local clothes shop and see the owner cleaning up shattered glass.

“Morning Roger” you say and he turns to look at you with sad eyes “what happened?”

“oh someone broke in last night. Smashed the window and stole the suit straight off the mannequin” he points to the naked mannequin left standing in the broken window display.

“did they take anything else?” 

“Nothing. Not even a penny from the till. Just the one suit, thats it.”

“that’s weird. At least theres not too much damage though”

“I guess I should count myself lucky that it could have been much worse. Have a good day y/n” he says with a tired smile as he takes the bucket of broken glass inside the shop.

You pass a few more shops before you reach the door of the bakery cafe and swing the door open, the familiar scent of fresh baked bread and cakes fills the air.

“Morning Maggie” you call as you drop your bag behind the counter and head into the kitchen at the back.

“morning love” She responds, looking at you over the top of her flour covered glasses as she kneads dough on the counter. Maggie is an older lady, with a friendly wrinkled covered face and greying curly hair which was currently contained in a hairnet. She had always been like a grandmother to you, and since losing your parents she was the only family you had left. Apart from being a bit of a gossip, she was a really lovely lady and you love working for her and listening to her crazy conspiracy theories. “did you hear all the drama last night?”

“yeah I’ve just seen Roger outside, he told me all about the break in” you respond, grabbing your apron off the hook and tying it around your waist. 

“oh no I meant about the drama on the beach?”

“no? What happened?”

“oh it all kicked off. Helicopters, sirens, the works. You didn’t hear any of it from up the hill?” 

“nope, must have slept right through it.”

“you young people, you’ll sleep through anything” Maggie says putting another batch of bread in the oven “well you missed all the fun. They dragged a body out of the sea and-”

“a body?!” You interrupt.

“well according to Carol anyway. She said she heard from Jan that someone had reported a body on the beach. Her grandson works in the police so she finds out things from him. Anyway, the police raced down there straight away but when they got there the army had already arrived and told them to leave. Army outrank the local police apparently.”

“wow” 

“and thats not all. I ran into Nigel this morning in the supermarket. Nigel lives right by the beach and he said he heard a gunshot and a load of shouting last night. He looked out the window and saw a woman lying on the sand bleeding, and people in black uniforms running everywhere. Looked like there were chasing a man. He ran down to see if he could help but by the time he got there the beach was empty. No sign of anyone at all. Strange right?”

“very” you nod, trying to seem more interested “what do you think happened?”

“maybe it was a vampire” a mans voice suddenly speaks and you both turn around to see a tall man with jet black hair stood looking at you through the serving hatch. 

“a vampire? Now theres a suggestion I didn’t expect to hear” Maggie laughs and the stranger laughs back at her, but you get the feeling he wasn’t really joking. 

“What are you cooking back there? Something smells.. exceptionally good” he says, his dark eyes fixed on you.

“All sorts of magic happening in these ovens, but unfortunately we’re not actually open till 8am” Maggie replies in her usual customer service voice and she walks through into the shop. You stay back in the kitchen, mixing the dough for the next batch of bread. 

“oh I’m very sorry, I didn’t know. I’m new around here” you hear the man say, he talks like an old fashioned gentleman.

“no bother, it’s alright. If you want to take a menu and come back in half an hour we’ll be happy to serve you a slice of magic”

“wonderful. I’ll be back then.” You watch as he turns to leave, then stops. “see you later Y/N” he shouts through to you and your eyes go wide as he shuts the door behind him.

“ooh I think someone likes you” Maggie teases and she walks back into the kitchen.

“how did he know my name?” You say, not really asking but more thinking out loud. 

“hmm I don't know. Probably read it off your name tag” she replies casually as she carries on baking. 

You look down at the small name tag you forgot was attached to your apron and let out a small sigh. Of course that makes sense. But you couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling in the pit of your stomach when you thought about the darkness in his eyes. 

— — — — 

The day was dragging. The usual customers came and went, each with their own theories about what had happened the night before. Maggie was happy to listen and share her own views with them but you ended up zoning out every time. Instead you wondered about the stranger from this morning. Who was he? He said he was new here, does that mean he’s staying or just passing through? Either way, something about him made you feel weird and you found yourself watching the door anxiously every time the little bell above it rang. 

You were clearing tables after the lunch rush before you could go on your own lunch break, when the door bell dinged and a woman you didn’t recognise walked in. 

“take a seat, I’ll be with you in a moment” you say politely as you carry a tray of dirty dishes and mugs into the kitchen. You pick up your little note pad and pen ready to go take her order when Maggie stops you. 

“its okay love, I’ll serve her. You have your lunch” she says gesturing to the plate of sandwiches she’s made for you then walking out into the cafe greeting the stranger in her usual loud and bubble manner. 

You smile and take the food out through the back door and take a seat on the grassy bank. The sunshine warms your skin as you tuck in to the delicious sandwiches which Maggie has packed with your favourite filling. Once you’ve finished eating you lie with your back on the grass, watching the seagulls fly high above you and the white clouds moving slowly across the perfect blue sky. 

You lie there daydreaming for a while but when a fly noisily buzzes past your face and makes you jump you sit up, swatting it away with your hand. You check the time on your watch, almost time to get back to work. You take a few deep breathes of the fresh air before standing up and brushing the grass off you. Something catches your attention in the corner of you eye and you turn to look. 

There he is. 

The stranger from this morning stood in the shade, leaning against a tree trunk. A shiver tickles down your spine and he smirks at you as the two of you lock eyes.

“Y/N love, could you come back in now?” Maggie calls, poking her head out the door.

“yes yeah ill be right there” you respond looking at her and she goes back inside. You look back over to the tree but he’s gone. Was he ever really there or is he just on your mind? 

You walk back into the kitchen, deep in thought. 

“are you alright love?” Maggie ask, concerned when she sees the look on your face.

“yeah I’m fine” you snap out of it and smile at her. You spot the unknown lady still sat at the same table she was at before you went on lunch. “she’s still here?”

“she asked if she could use our wifi to do some work on her computer, I said its fine as long as she buys something. Anyway, I’m just nipping out. Will you be okay to run things here for a while?”

“of course, see you in a bit” you smile as she heads out the front door. The lady looks up at you from her laptop and you smile, but she just looks back down and carries on working. 

Ten minutes later the cafe is empty apart from you and the mysterious lady. 

“excuse me, could I get two more coffees please?” She calls to you and you nod. 

“two? Sure yeah, coming up” you reply slightly confused. Two? Maybe someone is coming to join her. 

You make the coffees and carry them over to her, carefully placing them down on the table next to her laptop. 

“Thanks, this one’s yours. Will you sit?” she gestures to the chair opposite her.

“huh? Oh, no thank you. I cant, I’m working right now” 

“theres no one else in here. Just sit for a moment. I have something important to discuss with you” she says friendly enough but with a serious undertone.

“i don't understand-” you start

“Y/N Y/L/N. Born Y/B/D in Y/H/T, but moved here to this village when you were 4 years old and you’ve lived her ever since. Your parents died 5 years ago in a car crash and since then you’ve lived alone in your family home, the lovely little cottage up on that hill.”

“How do you know all of this?”

“Sister Y/N, your great great grandmother, was a nun in Saint Mary’s convent of Budapest in the late 1800’s. In 1897 every nun in that convent was slaughtered. All but three, your great great grandmother was one of them. She fled to England and started a new life. A family.”

“How do you know this?” You repeat, getting frustrated. 

“Because I am a direct descendant of one of the other survivors, Sister Agatha Van Helsing. I’m Dr Zoe Van Helsing”

“What, so, someone broke into a nunnery and killed everyone. But our ancestors got away?” You don't understand why any of this matters.

“not someone, something” she pauses “a vampire”

“a vampire?” You stare at her in disbelief and she nods. She’s not joking, she really believes this. “this is ridiculous, I don't know what game you're playing with me but I want no part of it” you say walking away from her. 

“this is not a game, this is real. Y/N, a vampire killed all those nuns back then, and now he’s back. He’s here, and I think he’s looking for you” 

Her words stop you dead in your tracks. 

“He could have killed her, Y/N, but he didn’t. He made the decision not to kill her and he let her go.” She continues and you turn to face her again. “it’s all here in this journal written by your great great grandmother. I think you should read it”

You slowly walk back over to her and take a seat at her table. She pushes a very old, slightly torn and battered journal across the table to you. You open it up to the bookmarked page and begin reading. 

“1897. 

It all started when the undead man arrived…”

Part Three

Taglist: @a-dorky-book-keeper​ @agent-smulder​

[conaionaru]

Honor and Blood (Ivar the Boneless)

Brother and Sister

Synopsis: Silas and Vanya talk on her name day. The pregnancy is coming to an end soon.

Warnings: Silas, Toxic family, sibling rivalry, mentions of murder, angst, fluff

Tags:

@queenbeeta @heavenly1927 @xbellaxcarolinax @shannygoatgruff @lol-haha-joke @youbloodymadgenius​ @didiintheblog​

P.S. Anything in cursive is Old Norse. Anything in bold and cursive is a memory.

I don’t own the gifs. Also, thank you for your support. I really appreciate it. If you want to be tagged please write me<3

f there was one thing Vanya hated, then it's definitely seeing Silas walking around looking down at everyone. Or maybe it's just Silas himself; after all, he isn't exactly the most likable person. Stithulf is probably the only one who truly cares for Vanya's cruel brother and not for his title. The blond knight seemed to her like a good influence on her brother. He cared about the people and Silas's survival, which no one else bothered to do up until now. She just hopes that his concern is sincere and not a front he put on to win her trust.

"I was never happier that I didn't have a sister. Just imagining him as our brother in law makes me sick." Sigurd commented, sitting next to her on his bench, tuning his oud as she stitched a pattern on Ubbe's new shirt.

Vanya shrugged at his choice of words and looked down at her stitching. She was so absorbed into her thoughts and watching Silas that she butchered a part of her work. The ginger cursed under her breath and tried fixing it. Her husband's older brother snickered at her adorable rage, but shut up when she glared at him.

"You do have a sister now. And she doesn't like you talking about her brother that way." She snapped angrily as Sigurd raised an eyebrow at her tone.

"Please don't tell me you like him. I get that he is your family, but Silas doesn't seem like a good brother. When was he ever nice to you?" Sigurd asked, thinking back to his own brother. He and Ivar were brothers, but if someone were to treat him the way Silas treats Vanya, he would kill them. Only Sigurd gets to insult Ivar and get away with it. Afterall they are brothers; it would get boring if everybody were nice to each other.

Vanya saw Stithulf leave her brother's side and walk over to the other knights, both Silas and the knight seemed annoyed and sour. "When were you ever nice to Ivar?"

"When he was a babe. Things were easier when he couldn't talk."

"You mean when neither of you talked." Vanya pointed out, walking over to her brother's side, gathering all her courage to talk to him. "Are you alright?"

Silas glared down at his redheaded sibling and walked away from her. He stomped his way past two of his knights who looked at him, terrified. "Get out of my way, you lowlife filth!" He spat at them as they made a path for him.

"I am sorry, I am sure you bathe regularly. Have a nice day!" Vanya apologized in her brother's stead as she heard Sigurd run after her, cursing her sudden getaway.

"Stop following me!" Silas spat at her, turning on his heal. His nostrils flared in rage; the king looked like a bull ready to charge. "What do you want, Vanya?"

"I want to talk. Like civilized people would."

"Do you take me for uncivilized, you worthless bitch?"

She definitely didn't miss these types of conversations with him. Why does she even try? "I don't want to fight. I want to talk to you privately, without it seeming like you will kill me."

Silas huffed at her comment and mentioned for the shore. She sat down on the pier to rest her legs while he stood over her, glaring at the water instead of her. "Talk, or I will leave."

"What did you argue with Stithulf about?" She tried not to sound demanding and timid to soothe his anger a little bit. It would be easier if he were less murderous.

Silas sighed and gave her a letter from his pocket. It held the royal seal of Slegia, which could only mean that their mother sent it. Vanya opened it and read over the writing in astonishment. "Dear King Silas, I wish to inform you that I got married again while you were away. Me and Lord Ceolmund will continue living in the castle. Have a safe journey, and greet Vanya for me. Greetings, Queen Mother Siflæd." It was short and to the point, and an obvious dismissal of Silas's authority as she married without his consent or knowledge.  

"She did it to spite me. I forbid her to bring any more lovers to the castle, so she married the one that would anger me the most." He seethed, tearing the letter out of her hands and ripping it into pieces that he threw into the sea. "I want to raise my armies and cut off his head!"

"Maybe she did it out of love. Or she is with child. Whatever the reason, he is our new father now. Murdering him isn't a wise choice." Vanya reasoned, trying to remember if she ever met this Lord Ceolmund.

Silas shook his head and slammed his hand against the post he leaned on. Vanya jumped at the sudden outburst. "Oh, he is as much of father to us as Siflæd was a mother. Ceolmund is rich and young, a perfect victim to her charms. The moment he returns to his senses, she will drop him, pregnant or not."

"If you know that, then why fight with Stithulf? Why plan a murder if the outcome is obvious?" Vanya pressed, trying to decipher her brother's thinking process.

The King spat on the ground in disgust and looked at her stomach. "Because this poses a problem for my marriage."

"Your marriage? You will take a wife?" Vanya questioned, failing to imagine Silas as a husband. He always seemed like the type that wouldn't marry even if his life depended on it.

He leaned into her face and smirked. "I am supposed to marry Lady Eoforhild. She will give me an heir and connect Slegia with Ecbert. Considering that she is his brother's granddaughter, he will support us against threats to keep her safe. But Mother destroyed the plan the moment she married that halfwit."

"How does that destroy your plan? You can still marry her."

"Ceolmund is Eoforhild's father, you dumb cow. The deal was to marry her, as it is the honorable thing to do after I took her maidenhead, leaving her no longer a virgin and unfit to marry anyone. She seduced me at a dance on my name day, that bought dishonor on their family name, so Ecbert offered me her hand in exchange for his armies. They keep their reputation and get some form of power over Slegia, while I get allies and heirs. And that option is now out of question when Mother went behind my back and married my betrothed's father!"

"And now the church won't allow you to marry her anymore." The ginger sighed in defeat, seeing the reason behind his anger. Their mother destroyed a chance of protection and the poor girl's life.

Silas rolled his eyes at that and looked back at Sigurd, who stood behind them, glaring at Silas as if he will beat him with his oud soon. "Mother did it to gain back some sense of control. She has been throwing tantrums since you left; she is humiliating herself and the whole kingdom. She always hated being in the background; that's why she acts out like a child. Just like when Father was alive. That's the truth of it all."

Vanya knew what he was talking about, when Osmond was still alive Siflæd paraded her lovers around to spite him and his lovers. Their relationship was anything but love; they hated each other and fought daily behind closed doors. After his funeral, the vicious cycle was over, and she could do as she pleased. That is till Silas got fed up with her behavior and forbid her to take any more lovers. And now she married his future father in law.

"The truth is always either terrible or boring. Why can't there be a middle ground? Like she married him out of love and not spite."

"She doesn't know love, not to me or anyone else. She is a dark pit of hate and selfishness. Siflæd never held her tongue about me being a monster, but we both know she is no better. The only difference is that I have no problem showing it." He sneered in his rage, stomping off to either brood or plan murder. Whatever it was, Vanya understood his feelings. A perfect opportunity thrown out of the window because Siflæd got something to prove.

"Well, that was eventful," Sigurd commented, helping Vanya up. The ginger flinched in pain, causing the Ragnarsson to panic. "Is it the babe? Is it coming? Please say no, you can't give birth here!"

Vanya rolled her eyes at his hysterics and wrapped her arm around his. "Just a kick. The child is stronger than one would think." Sigurd sighed and helped her walk back to the Great hall to collect her stitching.

"A gift, Princess. A pretty rose for a pretty girl." A woman stopped them, giving the Saxon a flower before walking away.

"Well, that was strange," Vanya muttered, cradling the gift in her hand, smelling the sweet aroma.

Sigurd snorted and pointed at the rose. "Maybe it's an offering. Hvitserk heard some people say you are Freyja or Frigg in disguise."

The pregnant girl gawked at him in shock. How could the people even think of her as a goddess? What about her seemed divine and godlike? "I am not a goddess, Sigurd! I am human, just like the rest of you. I'm not special, who am I to think I am special?."

"Pretty, smart, kind, selfless, lots of patience considering your husband. You are right, nothing special at all. I guess we are all just naive." The sarcasm was strong with that one, and it made her smile. It was nice to be seen, but she would prefer a little less worship. She wasn't a god or anything near Freyja and Frigg. Vanya is and always was a plain mortal born into money. There are thousands of them all over Midgard. "And you should get used to getting gifts. It is your name day today. You are seventeen now, Little bird."

Vanya chuckled and smiled at the passing people. A year ago, she wasn't pregnant, married, or living in Kattegat. Things change so fast it's almost scary. Everything she went through in the last year feels like it happened a decade ago. "Oh I will still complain about getting gifts, I will just limit for Ivar's ear before we go to bed.

"Well, I hope you won't complain about my gift. I think you will like it."

"No promises, Brother." She teased as he snorted, shaking his head.

[morganhazelwood]

a writer of middle-grade horror and SF, fan of both cats AND dogs

Readers! Let’s give a good, hearty welcome to Ty Drago!

Ty Drago is a husband, father, grandfather, dog and cat owner, practicing Quaker, and the author of (to date) eight published novels, one novelette, two anthology appearances, and loads of short stories and articles.

His novels include the five-book middle grade horror series, The Undertakers, which has been optioned for a feature film, and Phobos, which has been called by Publisher’s Weekly, “…a strong candidate for SF debut of the year.”

Ty, thanks for agreeing to be here today. Most interviews start off with bios and such, and while I’ll get to that as always, let’s start with the important stuff!

If you could have any pet (real/fantasy/no-allergies/no worries about feeding it) what would it be?

That’s easy: a dragon, and the not the cutesy Puff or Elliot variety either. I’m talking about a full-blown, fire-breathing scaley lizard, thirty-feet long at least. I’d like to see our smug neighbor’s big husky get pushy with me then! Why, you ask? Well, for one thing my last name is simply Italian for dragon. For another, my most recent novel deals with dragons – though not the scaley lizard-kind. But mentioning that does make for a good segue (see the end of the interview).

Dragons are a classic choice. I’m sorry your neighbor’s husky is so pushy!

What do you write?

Mostly, I write kids books and have often gleefully declared that I scare children for a living. But the truth is that I’m a full-time, working writer, which means I write what I think I can sell.

I’ve been “writing” all my life. As a kid, I drew comic books, which usually dealt with a group of child superheroes I invented called “The Kid Kadets” (I was eight, and didn’t know how you spell “cadets.”) In any event, these woefully drawn comics were a hit with the neighborhood kids and helped me work my way up to short stories and novels in my teens and twenties.

But it wasn’t until my thirties, with my wife Helene egging me on, that my career started taking off. I sold my first novel, landed my first agent, and the rest has been a glorious exercise in patience, frustration, triumph, despair, pride, disappointment, and joy.  In other words, life as a writer

The thirties seem to be an excellent time to get serious about one’s writing. Congrats on a fruitful career. And best of luck nurturing that patience and tempering the despair and disappointments.

What do you like to read?

I read all sorts of things. My favorite book is Life of Pi by Yann Martel. But I love the Jack Reacher books by Lee Child and the Dresden books by the great Jim Butcher. Go Mouse!

All that said, I frequently read to Helene at bedtime. It’s a ritual we’ve had, on and off, throughout most of our long marriage. So, as our interests differ where fiction is concerned, I find that my tastes have broadened in unexpected ways. Over the years, I’ve found that I hate Moby Dick but love A Tale of Two Cities, The Count of Monte Cristo, and The Phantom of the Opera. In a more modern vein, I enjoy a good saga, such as the works of James Clavell or Wilbur Smith.

What a lovely way to share your love of reading and your genre tastes with your partner. I might have to try it someday. (And who doesn’t love Mouse?)

Name one commonly accepted piece of writing advice that doesn’t work for you.

Write what you know.

 It’s nonsense. I mean, seriously, where’s the fun in that? Rather, I like to say, “Start with what you know, and then take it further … much further.” That’s where great stories are born.

Fiction writing is the exercise of that muscle in our brains that I call “The Idea Machine.” Keep it churning and your imagination will never starve. However, it can’t live on “what you know” but instead “what you dream.”

What a wonderful way to describe it. Speculative fiction especially doesn’t belong in the confines of a literal interpretation of ‘write what you know’.

Name one commonly accepted piece of writing advice that they can pry out of your cold, dead hands.

Never, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever give up.

Never, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever give up. And if you ever feel like giving up – don’t.

Persistence and hope, the pair of things that keep a writer going.

Shameless Self-Promotion time!

In his 5-book Middle Grade series: The Undertakers

#gallery-0-5 { margin: auto; } #gallery-0-5 .gallery-item { float: left; margin-top: 10px; text-align: center; width: 20%; } #gallery-0-5 img { border: 2px solid #cfcfcf; } #gallery-0-5 .gallery-caption { margin-left: 0; } /* see gallery_shortcode() in wp-includes/media.php */

“On a sunny Wednesday morning in October, a day that would mark the end of one life and the beginning of another, I found out my grouchy next door neighbor was the walking dead. When you turn around expecting to see something familiar, and instead see something else altogether, it takes a little while for your brain to catch up with your eyes. I call it the ‘Holy Crap Factor.'”

Forced to flee his home and family, twelve-year-old Will Ritter falls in with the Undertakers-a rag-tag army of teenage resistance fighters who’ve banded together to battle the Corpses.

Funded just now on Kickstarter!! Dragons was a stretch goal for the Horns and Halos anthology! Dragons is an SF YA that, on the surface, is kind of a space-age retelling of Kidnapped by Robert Louis Stevenson.

Eighteen-year-old Andy Draco is stolen from his family and his life by a powerful corporation that plans to use him for its own “noble cause.” You see, Andy is not the skinny high school kid he seems to be. Andy is “Kind,” a member of a vanishingly small subspecies of humanity that’s capable of generating enormous amounts of thermal energy. In short: a Dragon. They’ve existed since the dawn of man and aren’t the fire lizards that myth and legend have made of them. Instead, they’re a peaceful, reclusive race who live quiet lives alongside humanity – for the most part, undiscovered. Until now.

Against his will, and in the face of the cultural absolute of concealment under which he was raised, Andy is forced to reveal his power. It seems a mining colony deep below the ice on Europa has been seized by terrorists and the corporate entity that owns the colony needs a Dragon to burn their way down to reach them. After this “simple task,” Andy will be returned to his family. Or so they promise.

But all isn’t what it seems, and before long Andy will face betrayal, wonder, and terrible danger as he begins to grasp just how high the stakes really are. To win the coming battle will take more than a Dragon. It’ll take a hero.

Check Ty Drago out across the web!

Website | Amazon | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram | Goodreads

Author Spotlight: Ty Drago a writer of middle-grade horror and SF, fan of both cats AND dogs #bookblogger #books #writingTips #writerslife a writer of middle-grade horror and SF, fan of both cats AND dogs Readers! Let's give a good, hearty welcome to Ty Drago!

[randomnameless]

Seirelm anon : not wanting to plagiarize or smthg but what do you think about pre imperial Fodlan?

I noticed I had a tag during quarantine, but like everything i did back then it seems like it has been 5 years when it was just 5 months ago

btw are you the one who wrote that fic where edel is part lizard because lycaon is a hybrid?

Word of God + datamine website happened since last time i posted about it but

Rhea’s books tells us that the land was shitty and chaotic, and randoms, instead of fighing against Nemesis’s “persecution” were actually stealing and murdering. Now, this might be a tad biased, but Flayn (who doesn’t give a fig about the church’s official history) tells Ignatz she lived in seclusion with her dad and mom and lived a quiet life. Maybe because going outside and living with humans was a big no-no, and not just because they could be cut for spare parts? Also, given how Nemesis appears in VW and trashes villages around to look for Seiros, I think he didn’t really care about the randoms in Fodlan, so his “rule” was pretty harsh on randoms living in Fodlan.

We know Enbarr existed, because Seteth met his wife there. There was a church too. When Seiros came down from the mountains, she helped the randoms there to make a canal, so from those tidbits, I suppose Enbarr was a rather large gathering of randoms (for that time?) akin to a city.

Someone also says the city was built around the palace, to protect it. 

Meaning there must have been a king/local lord of Enbarr before Wilhelm became Emperor. 

Given how Fodlan was said, during this era, to be ruled by various tribes, I don’t think Enbarr was the only city/large gathering of randoms, but it was at least large enough to be of note. Was it the only city-state in Fodlan, like what happens when you start a Civ game, you create your first city and pray no barbarians will come to destroy you? 

In 1, Enbarr is chosen as the capital of the Empire bcs of Seiros’s presence, not because it was the only city around. Meaning there are other cities around in Enbarr’s area of influence? 

Was Enbarr only populated by Enbarrites and was the seat of a tribe? Idk. 

Maybe, and that tribe became so wealthy/successful/raised their population with double digits numbers that it stood strong/neutral even when Nemesis’n’Dudes became OP and their tribes became OP with them.

Maurice calls Nemesis “King”, was Fodlan his kingdom, did he have a special kingdom somewhere where he and his pals could do Nemesis things, or was it just a title? What kind of relationships did this Kingdom and the city of Enbarr had, if the Kingdom existed? 

When Willy became Emperor, he waited 32 years before officially fighting against Nemesis, to unify Fodlan. What happened during those years? 

Was Nemesis laughing because “look she pretends to be a prophet of the goddess but the goddess is here in my scabbard” so he didn’t take her seriously? Was he pissed because if Enbarr’s randoms believe in Seiros’s nonsense and it’s just crap, now an idiot calls himself Emperor of a new nation and starts to create an army? Why didn’t the guy just, destroy Enbarr, if it was the bastion of some sort of movement that wanted him dead/wanted clear independance from whatever he was doing?

Ultimately I think Enbarr could be something interesting, like, insert dubious parallels with Rome but it went from a random city in a land with many tribes to the seat of a religous movement seeking to destroy the strongest man alive and his cronies, to the capital of a new Empire, and the continent in 90 years (tfw no dragon jesus in Rome so they took more time)

Southern Fodlan thus is whatever Enbarr is, and in the North... 

I suppose that’s where Nemesis and his Dudes lived? Charon and pals’s descendants live in the North in the modern era, maybe it used to have been their tribe’s land since the Nemesis era? (sucks to be Daphnel then)

We also know Southern Fodlan and Northern Fodlan had the same naming conventions (similar cultures?) given how Wilhelm, if he was really from the South, had a “Faerghus name” Wilhelm “Paul” Hresvelg instead of being Wilhelm “von” Hresvelg, the “von” particle came after the war, or with the first generation of Adrestians.

As for what was happening beyond Fodlan’s borders... I have no idea.

totally free 0% endorsed in-game : I hc pre-imperial Fodlan made use of slaves, bcs if Nemesis’n’Dudes can butcher a village to farm materials, i doubt lives from human/sentient beings was worth much in their eyes. Solon’n’pals found it very funny “look beasts treating each other as chattel when they don’t even know they’re all beasts lel”. The Empire kind of promised that after the war they’d free all slaves, the church pushed for it “you’re both people why are you doing this to those men?” while Enbarr was a bit more reticent “but our workforce and economy :’( ”.

Slavery became abolished during Lycaon II’s reign, but even now some nobles still do some shit like that, like the Gonerils. but they pay their servants with 5 peanuts per day, so it’s totally not slavery they’re free to go if they want