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erika-being-erika · 4 years ago

Text

More levihan reccomendations!

Part 1

• One Last Time by PiercingThePage

[Multi-chapt || on going]

Summary:

Levi & Hanji have been dating for about 3 years in highschool. He starts to have feelings for one of the pretty girls names Petra Ral. After he starts cheating on Hanji with her, he decides he wants out of the relationship. Until the day he decides to tell her, ends up being the day she tells him that she's pregnant. Will they make it out well, or will Levi start to realize he is becoming his own dead beat dad

• Having My Baby by Countess_Dorkula

[Multi-chapt || on going]

Summary:

Another SNK Kink Meme fill. Follow Levi and Hanji as they go through the marvelous adventure towards parenthood.

• catch me if you can by fanmoose12

[Multi-chapter || on going]

Summary:

The Ackerman duo. Just the mention of this name filled Hange with so many feelings. Mostly, when she reread the files of their cases over and over, until her eyes watered, she felt pricking annoyance. Sometimes, when she stared at the dead bodies of those scarce unfortunates who stumbled upon their crimes, she was filled with hatred and a pushing need for revenge. Hange couldn't deny, however, there were times when she marveled at the impudence of their crimes. And, when she was investigating the Ackerman's cases and saw just how meticulously planned they all were, she couldn't help but feel something close to fascination.

No one knew who they were. No one had seen their faces, no one knew their true names. Almost everyone knew of their crimes.

Hange was determined to unravel every last one of their secrets. She will put an end to their crimes and then she will get the elusive Ackermans behind bars.

• Partners by fanmoose12

[Multi-chapt || on going]

Summary:

When Petra was promoted to a detective and partnered up with legendary Levi Ackerman, she felt like the happiest person in the world.

But, as she soon found out, detective Ackerman she used to admire so much was actually a far cry from the ideal policeman Petra thought he was. He was rude, harsh and easily annoyed.

And, in addition, he still hadn’t moved on from the death of his previous partner - detective Hange Zoe.

• can't keep my hands off you by fanmoose12

[Multi-chap || completed]

Summary:

Hange, Levi and their not so secret relationship.

• Looking for You by fanmoose12

[Multi-chapt || completed]

Summary:

Returning from a long mission, all Levi wanted was to spend sometime with Hange. But instead he got a message from Erwin, urging him to come to HQ. There he found out, that Hange was missing for over a week and that his new mission is to partner with Moblit, Hange's loyal assistant, and together find and bring Hange home.

• A Tale of Two Slaves by TundrainAfrica

[Multi-chapt || on going]

Summary:

"Soulmates don’t exist. Fate doesn't exist. Everything's a choice. And Levi could only watch as she made the choice for him."

Levi remembers everything from their past life. Hange doesn't.

• Free-Falling by djmarinizela

[Multi-chapt || on going]

Summary:

Skydiver and tea shop owner Levi Ackerman meets the town’s resident mad scientist and tries to convince himself that he's not falling for her.

• All of Me by MannaTea

[Multi-chapt || completed]

Summary:

By the time they reached the trees, Sylvia's sides were heaving, her flanks covered in sweat-foam, but they couldn't afford to stop; two titans had become more. Hange refused to look behind her, but she could tell by the way the ground shook that one of them was at least a 13-meter class.

And all she had with her was one blade and a horse who was about to drop dead of exhaustion.1

• Dreams May Not Come True by MannaTea

[Multi-chapt || completed]

Summary:

Levihan. Hange knows something is wrong when she goes down to breakfast one morning and the smell makes her stomach churn.

• Something Like Destiny by MannaTea

[Multi-chapt || completed]

Summary:

Reincarnation AU. Zoë doesn't have dreams; she just knows.

• A Dangerous Game by just_quintessentially_me

[Multi-chapt || on going]

Summary:

A snk 1920′s AU:

Sina is wild, crowded, bursting with industry. Home to jazz, fashion - and corruption. Crooked politicians, dirty police, and powerful gangs have turned the city into a cesspit of violence where the powerful rule. At the center of the chaos are the Ackermans - one of the most powerful gangs in the city, Mayor Fritz - who is as corrupt as he is wealthy, Erwin - a police commander determined to weed out the corruption in his own department, and Hanji - a journalist willing to risk everything to expose their city’s darkest secrets.

• A Simple Choice by just_quintessentially_me

[Multi-chapt || completed]

Summary:

The rain had started up again. Fat droplets drummed over her hood, drenching the fabric. Her horse’s reins were wet and cold; though her fingers, numbed from continued exposure to the elements, could hardly feel them.

Following the sound of the explosion, they’d arrived at a clearing. It was a mess of blackened, shattered wood, and the wagon, a skeleton, was little more than a smoking husk. Beyond the wreckage, a titan lay prostrate. Felled, its limp, hulking form was barely visible through the rain.

As soldiers shouted, pointing at the creature, one of the horses still tethered to the ruined wagon, writhed. When the beast screamed a broken, panicked wail, her own horse shifted, flanks twitching with unease.

Hanji barely noticed.

The soldiers' voices, the poor beast’s screams, even the heavy, even thrum of rain - had silenced as she looked to the river.

A body lay at the edge of the dark, white-capped water.

• License to Science (And Kill) by just_quintessentially_me

[Multi-chapt || completed]

Summary:

When International criminal organization, TITAN, successfully steals an arsenal of missiles along with their encrypted launch codes, Code Blue is initiated. It up to Agent Levi Ackerman, a spy in a class of his own, and Research scientist Hanji Zoe, the premiere authority on the organization, to halt a global catastrophe in its tracks.

She lowered her glasses, brown eyes blinking over the rims. “Does this mean I have a-” One brow lifted. “License to Science?”

“No. But I do have a License to Kill. Don’t tempt me to use it.”

• Aftermath by just_quintessentially_me

[Multi-chapt || completed]

Summary:

Levi rushes to the wall in the aftermath of the Armored and Colossal Titans' attack.

“Are you worried about your wife?”

The question shocked him out of his musings.

Levi looked up, “My what?”

But the pastor was already speaking, “You’re obviously beside yourself with stress – and it’s understandable. Not knowing if your wife has survived-”

Levi cut him off, “My what?”

The pastor hesitated, apparently realizing he’d made some mistake, but misunderstanding precisely what it was. “Your…wife? The woman we traveled with before? She’s ah – forceful. You two uh – have the same, er – strident personality. When we first met, she dangled me off the wall.”

• Terrible Things by someonestolemyshoes

[One-shot]

Summary:

The first time he tells her she’s pretty, Hange is all kinds of filthy - sweaty, dirty, twigs in her hair and mud on her shoes and a great big disgusting ball of everything Levi hates.

She is also crying.

It isn’t like he’s never seen her cry before - they’re nine and crying is just what kids do, especially kids like Hange who like to play with things they probably shouldn’t play with and like to climb trees even though they’re kind of clumsy and so the crying, in it’s self, isn’t all that weird.

What’s weird is that Hange - Hange, with her print-smudged glasses and ratty ponytail and clothes two sizes too big for her - is crying because a boy called her ugly.

• Acquiescence by 3LevisInATrenchcoat

[Multi-chapt || on going]

Summary:

On Judgement Day, the tide brought someone strange.

• My soulmate by a_golden_hearted_snk_fan

[Multi-chapt || on going]

Summary:

When your soulmate gets injured or hurt, their injuries show up on your skin with a slight sting then slowly fade. It was a rare thing to occur, but Levi and Hanji were the lucky ones.

• SOS by djmarinizela

[Multi-chapt || on going]

Summary:

Levi is a reclusive senior student who shares an apartment with Mike, Nanaba, and his best friend, Hange, who he's secretly in love with. Oddly enough, they also belong to the same secret club with a special operations squad. The 104th cohort is a bunch of freshmen misfits they've taken under their wing, Moblit is Hange's lab partner also vying for her affections, while Erwin’s the newest instructor who doesn’t know how to teach. And they say school is fun.

• the moon is dark by alteirkay

[Multi-chapt || completed]

Summary:

His face was wet.

“What the hell?” He murmured touching his face to see if he was mistaken. He was not. His hair was damp with sweat. There was an uneasiness invading his whole body. He was filled with it like he had drunk it straight from a bottle. His chest was heavy, his breaths were uneven, and his right eye was throbbing like a hammer was hitting at it continuously.

He was feeling like he had just lost someone.

• The Experiment by KakashiSensei

[Multi-chapt || on going]

Summary:

After a public brawl between them, Commander Erwin confines Captain Levi and Zoë Hange to barracks. When the Survey Corps next heads out, they are left behind as a punishment. Soon bored out of her mind, Hange turns her scientific curiosity towards the most interesting specimen within her reach: Levi. When his past reaches out to him to claim him back, she joins him on a dangerous journey. Do budding feelings have a chance in the most desolate of places?

• windmill by alteirkay

[One-shot]

Summary:

Here is the thing about Levi, his heart is a windmill in the middle of a wilderness where there was no wind to make it twirl, there was no wind to make it beat, pound and feel. Just feel.

Until one day he got hit by a storm so wild, so rare and so incredibly terrifying but in the most beautiful and breath-taking way that it left him defenceless, vulnerable and weak. Like a tiny little flower which had long passed its day of blossoming in a fierce, winter dawn yet it stood erect with its fragile body, challenging against the merciless winds and the brutal frost.

He fell in love.

• In Your Shoes by Neighborhood_Nori

[Multi-chapt || on going]

Summary

Levi, Paradis Studio's strict ballet instructor, can't stand the newly hired hip-hop instructor, Hanji. As a ballet dancer with his own complicated history with hip-hop, Levi only has respect for the more refined forms of dance. Can Hanji change his mind about her and her style of dance through determination, persistence, and her passion for dance?

• Distractions by Rookblonkorules

[One -shot]

Summary:

Hange’s love for pop culture interferes with her and Levi’s work.

It’s annoying.

• Leave You Whole. by zerothecreator

[One-shot]

Summary:

Levi spends his last moments in Hangë’s arms.

• Moments by Anonymous

[Multi-chapt || on going]

Summary:

Levihan Modern AU

She's a long-legged, sun-kissed beauty with tattoos in hidden places and multiple piercings.

Her leather jacket's on his bedroom floor, her ripped jeans too and she's pretty sure one of her heeled scarlet boots got left in the living room in their haste last night. At least her glasses are on top of the bedside drawer- they managed that, at least.

• more baby snacks by argethara

[One-shot]

Summary:

Levi tries to find out how and why boxes of Udo's biscuits are gone.

• Anniversary by EllePellano

[One-shot]

Summary:

AU One-shot: Erwin and Levi have a short conversation about the woman they both loved

• All We Are by TundrainAfrica

[One-shot]

Summary:

"We’re what’s left of the old survey corps Levi. We’re all alone.”

“We can’t be alone if there’s two of us.”

“So what do you suggest Captain Levi?”

“We stick together…” Levi answered. “We stick together, Commander Hange.”

During the time skip, Hange and Levi's relationship develops.

• Thin Ice by Xenobia

[Multi-chapt || completed]

Summary:

Takes place between events in chapter 90 of the manga. Hange, now commander of Survey Corps, commissions Captain Levi to scout territory in the mountains to search for a supply tower she believes may still be stocked. The scouts need all the supplies and currency they can get in order to carry on with their goals. Against his better judgment, Levi joins her on this excursion. The bitter, early winter makes their mission harder than expected, however. The pair find themselves relying on each other to survive, and they find it increasingly difficult to treat one another as comrades in arms and nothing more.

• Hidden Meanings by WhatHistoryForgets

[Multi-chapt || on going]

Summary:

Hange never thought a materialistic item could mean so much to her until she lost it.

• Of teacups and stale bread

[One-shot]

Summary:

Five times Hange prepared tea for Levi, and the one time that he did.

• Unintended Consequence(s) by Ella3982

[Multi-chapt || on going]

Summary:

Not all of the Anti-Personnel Control Squad died when the cavern collapsed. Some of them escaped through the tunnel Hange, Moblit, and Armin used. When the two parties meet, the Anti-Personnel Control Squad takes the three Survey Corps members hostage with the intent to force the Survey Corp's hand. However, when they find out that Kenny Ackerman has died, they become more desperate.

If the Uprising Arc had ended a bit differently, how would it alter the course of the story? What would change, and what would stay the same?

• A Fire in the Shadows by free_pancakes

[Multi-chapt || on going]

Summary:

LeviHan in an Avatar the Last Airbender AU - a side story occurring alongside the events of ATLA

Levi, the nephew of a fire nation captain, stumbles upon a ragtag group of 5 known as the Scouts, formidably known for foiling the plans of local fire nation control, living in the forests a few miles north of Ba Sing Se.

• Speak Your Dark Pleasures to Me by Lamia of the Dark (VisceraNight)

Summary:

A collection of drabbles and oneshots exploring a sexual relationship between Levi and Hanji.

• Tips & Tricks by Sleepyheadven

[One-shot]

Summary:

Eren’s brow was furrowed forward in confusion as he spoke. “I thought you said that staring at people isn’t nice?” He said after a few moments, gathering his thoughts. He seemed genuinely bewildered as to why she was intensely staring down a stranger when she had told him countless times before that it was impolite to do so.

Oh, lord, was her only thought as she quickly scrambled for an excuse. “I - Uh - well, sometimes people stare at other people because -” before she could even begin to form a proper sentence, Eren interjected. She wasn’t sure whether to be grateful or dismayed by his actions.

“Is it because you think he’s cute? My friend Ymir stares at my friend Krista that way all the time, she says it’s because she’s so pretty!” Eren babbled happily, oblivious to the way Hange’s grip around the handle of the cart tightened. Her brown eyes darted back and forth between the stranger and her son, hoping that he couldn’t overhear their conversation seeing as Eren wasn’t the softest of speakers.

• A drunk man always tells the truth by krissixh

[Multi-chapt || completed]

Summary:

Levi finds out that Hanji is engaged to a rich man. He gets drunk that night and confronts her his feelings. The two have to confront a lot of difficulties to be able to end as a couple.

• Relapses by Oreotragus

[Multi-chapt || completed]

Summary:

Despite having become a great asset to humankind, Captain Levi still has some trouble adjusting to his post-crime lifestyle, especially the social aspects of it. One extremely badly coordinated step out of his comfort zone creates a grand mess that he has to clean up.

• Weight of Survival by otterbeans

[One-shot]

Summary:

Hanji gives birth to Levi's unintentional child. She pretends to be surprised when he shows up for it.

• Don't drink the kool-aid by smallblip

[One-shot]

Summary:

Think of a number between one and ten. Because that's how you love in this world. First you toss out the word love. You tell it to its face that Commander Erwin Smith says “love is the ultimate cult of men... A sect... A dirty ploy by the whatever god is up there to make us all vulnerable..."

And then, everything falls into place.

• until another thursday evening by pinkweirdsunsets

[Multi-chapt || on going]

Summary:

and ever since they were only five, Levi had protected her, whether it was from the daily shenanigans she came up with or the criminal background he came from. She was his sunshine, messy and grinning, and he shielded her away from all terrible things.

until zeke yeager came along.

• Make It Make Sense! By cznpai

[Multi-chapt || completed]

I can't add the summary cause I've reached the limit. Welp i still have a lot of fics here so ill make a another post of reccomendations... HAHA bye!

#levihan #levi x hange #levihan oneshot #levihan fanfic #levihans #pls tell me if i putted the wrong link #guess im gonna make a part 3 👁👄👁#i thought all of them will fit in here #guess im wrong lol #k bye!

326 notes · View notes

life-rewritten · 4 years ago

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TRUE BEAUTY; TRUE TRAUMAS AND UNSETTLING REGRESSIONS

The anger, the anguish, and upset I feel from the last moments of episode 10 are unspeakable. I can not believe how flawed and disgusting some of the parents are in this show. And I'm not particularly eager to write when I'm emotional and entirely overtaken by anger and sadness, but I also wanted to address immediately because this essay isn't about the love triangle. I couldn't give a hoot about the love triangle; I don't care what side people are on, because I think it's ridiculous that, that's what people came out of this week's episodes and focusing on. Like really, we're still doing this Suho vs Seojun nonsense, like make it make sense? Like no one is perfect, no one is a monster, all of them are just characters and yes Suho is problematic, Seojun also is, Jukyung this week was even more so, everybody likes to focus on their bias and forget that it's not that deep, it's okay to call out Suho on his mistakes but to sit there and fangirl about Seojun as the best hero boyfriend or whatever, when this episode had so much more depth to it, that's ridiculous. Anyway everyone is free to have their own opinions, but I can't believe that this tag is still full of Suho hate, absolutely absurd. Back to the actual focus of this essay, what can I say True Beauty has always been about PTSD, trauma and the pain and suffering of our main characters, how that has shaped them, changed their mindsets on themselves, hindered them from growth, love and happiness. In Episode 9 and 10 all our characters with masks apart from Seojun who just kept growing regressed and fell apart because of past reminders of their traumas. Let me explain more as we get into it.

First of all, one of the most critical vital themes of this episode is about Secrets, especially how secrets can cause disconcert, miscommunication and chaos. All of the characters hold some kind of secret from their respective partners, family, friends, etc., and in hiding these secrets, they lose their positive attributes because of how stressed they are by the secrets, how ashamed they feel from the secrets and how afraid they are about what the reveal of the secrets would cause. Most importantly, we see Suho, Soojin and Ju Kyung spiral into regression because of the consequences of their masks and secrets.

Ju Kyung: A flashback to the past

Truthfully I was very peeved of by Ju Kyung these two episodes, but I mean it's evident that this was going to happen as mentioned before, Ju Kyung has severe PTSD from her past with bullying and suffering because the world made her feel inadequate and worthless because of what she lacks. Although Kyung ends up with someone who completely sees her for who she is, is supportive and by her side completely, Kyung can't help but question this blessing as a curse. This is what self hate, and self-deprecation does, immediately she receives something good for her, Kyung starts to withdraw in fear because some part of her can't believe she deserves to be happy and satisfied with Suho. Now, as I said, I was annoyed, but also I saw her reasons loud and clear and I understood them because I related to them as well. Let's first look at the situation that occurs to cause her to spiral.

Her secret is that she's dating Suho. Pause. Now at first she's hesistant because of the fear of bullying and being noticed and being pushed into the spotlight because of his reputation. However, because of him being him, taking care of her, making her feel brave and loving herself (he does so much to show her she's okay being her self), she decides she doesn't care if the secret is out. Unfortunately for Kyung, another secret is revealed; Soojin her new best friend someone, who she's so close to has feelings for Suho. In fact, she also has really fascinating and important reasons for why she believes Suho should be hers. Now, this is what truly causes Kyung's trauma to appear again, and she becomes a mess of emotions because she has spiralled back into self-hate and self-deprecation. Let me explain.

Losses and Fears

In order to understand why Kyung's trauma is actually more profound than it seems because it does feel quite dramatic and unimportant with the reveal of other people's secrets and situations, her crying about Suho not understanding her and why she's struggling seems really overdramatic and not needed. But let me take you back to episode 1, Kyung has been in this situation before, and this situation led her to want to take her life. Let's review

In episode 1, Kyung was confident and happy in her self; she had a crush on a guy who made her smile, comfortable, and one of the people who paid attention to her and cared for her. Now this guy she had feelings for, as she confessed; she discovered he had feelings for another person, someone more prettier, popular and matched for him as people put it. This led to her confession with this guy bringing out the worst side of him; it led to her also losing her best friend who she relied on because she went to the popular girl out of fear, it led to her being taunted and broken by people making her feel like how dare she even think she could confess. You have to realise what they're saying to her, one she's not worth having a guy pay attention to her because of her looks, two she shouldn't try even to get someone's attention because the right person will find that person and they'll realise their mistake in associating with her, three, friendship and people are fickle, and she'll always be alone if she tries to do what she wants.

So back to our situation, Kyung has finally found a safe space. The beginning of episode 9 she reveals one of her secrets (part of her growth) to Soojin who completely protects and stays by her side. Soojin becomes the best friend she could ever have, she relies on her and is happy because of her. So she's regained a new best friend, but also she's found, love. A guy has thoroughly chosen to be with her despite her looks and whatnot (she thinks), this guy is a complete package, he's a prince, he's too good to be true, he protects, he's warm, and he makes her feel safe. (Just like the other guy did), lastly, she's also now found a place with her peers, she's no longer looked down on, and everyone likes her. There's a lot in her mind at stake if she chooses to reveal to Soojin the truth. It just makes her vulnerable, and it makes her more likely to lose everything, she finally regained by wearing her mask. It makes her return to that mindset in episode 1, where she felt she was worthless, and useless, a burden, and she should take her life. So her trauma is ingrained in her and causes her to spiral into self-doubt, fear, and hate just because she's gone through this before.

Lies and Masks

Now the past situation made her feel one thing; people are fickle. No matter how much Suho is here for her and says he wants her, his love is fickle. It can change, he just needs to find the right person, the smarter person, the prettier person, the more affluent person who matches him. Soojin is that. But even more from what Soojin is saying to her, Suho is just exactly like how he is with Kyung. He's protective, he's apparently warm, and he goes out of his way to make Soojin feel safe when he doesn't do that for anyone. In her head, he just hasn't realised he wants her the same way he wants Kyung cause she makes him care. And we all know what happened when someone else found another opportunity where the girl of his dreams wanted him, the cruel words he said, the way he pushed her away, Kyung feels like Suho has every right to do the same because she feels like she's not in his league. Because people; her mum, her bullies, her ex-friends, even strangers have made her feel like she's not meant to be perfect for him because she's dumb, ugly and has nothing to offer apart from makeup. And that's just painful and heartbreaking. What is she to do in this situation, losing Soojin is already painful because that's someone who she also holds in high regards in her life, someone who she depends on as a friend.

But it's not just that. As I said, she believes people's love and care for her is fickle. Actually, Soojin is proving her right without her knowing, Soojin isn't being a good friend. She's going behind the scenes to manipulate Kyung, making her feel listless knowing she's dating Suho. But the issue is Soojin also knows her without her mask, her deepest fears, her deepest secret, she has a weapon if Kyung tells her she's dating Suho. If Soojin switches, Kyung reverts back to her episode 1 self where the whole school sides with the popular girl, and she reveals the truth about how she looks without makeup. She loses not just her best friend but also her new safe space and she regresses back into the girl on the rooftop broken and exhausted of being alive.

Real vs Fake

And that's the painful thing because the reason why Kyung believes people are on her side is because of her mask of makeup and beauty, Suho thinks he likes her because she is pretty with her makeup at least, Soojin became her friend because she felt she was different and prettier, and people in the school rate her high because she's pretty. It's all about how much her mask has helped her be reborn as she said to Selena. But because she knows her mask isn't real, these people's feelings, and loyalty, friendship also isn't real, she has to keep up this facade to keep it accurate, and to stay in this lie she's created as long as she's safe, happy and able to walk around freely being her self. Something people refused her to do before because she had no right to be satisfied being ugly and dumb. So you see it's actually genuinely traumatic and painful what she's dealing with.

However, the painful thing about the fickleness of feelings is that Kyung has Suho and Suho has been in love with her and has been consistent with his care for her from the time he knew her without her mask. Since they were kids. Suho spent the whole episodes being grateful that he had her as his girlfriend, wanting to show her to the world, wanting to be with her, and Kyung's need to keep secrets was pushing his feelings, and his fears and his worries aside because she was more focused on prevention and protection. Now Suho doesn't care for other people or see other people the way he sees Kyung, for him Soojin is barging into his life without needing to be there, he told her this, but he doesn't see it as a big issue to tell Kyung she's there because she's not important. But Seojun is important, Seojun has already told him how he feels for Kyung, and Kyung seems pretty reliant and close to Seojun who keeps crossing the line sometimes (like coming to her house and staying when her boyfriend is there, competing and what not) this is what causes him to get agitated and tell her the way he knows how.

He's had no parental care, no training, no nurturing to know what's wrong and right, he's been forced to deal with his issues on his own, and he isolated himself from people, we can see he struggles with relationships, and he's trying to navigate it. So it's not okay for him to act possessive and controlling over who she should be with, but it also makes sense with his character when he doesn't know how to show emotions appropriately, and he's jealous and worried because she's being happy and close with Seojun in one corner and avoiding his calls and him in the other. It doesn't make sense. This is what I was peeved off at her for. Both Kyung and Suho are in the wrong in this situation, not just Suho.

Speaking of Suho, let's talk about this episode, his secrets as Leo and the reveal of how Seoyeon got set up.

Suho; A memory of regrets

Now the frustrating thing about this situation is; I can't fathom humans that do this, I can't understand how cold and heartless someone can be that he drives someone to take their life, and he still acts nonchalant and cold about that person because he doesn't care about rookies. Suho's father is incredibly disgusting as a human, and I completely can't stand him. The reveal that Seoyeon's demise was because he wanted to cover up a dating scandal, his son's best friend, who his son is literally suffering PTSD because he believed he was the reason his friend jumped. It's so disgusting when you think about it. This episode does an excellent job in showing us how much Suho has struggled with emotions and life because of his father's reputation, personality, and upbringing. And that's why I don't understand how people can come into this episode and come out with hate for Suho. Make it make sense.

The first thing episode 9 shows about Suho, which was actually foreshadowing the final conflict in episode 10 is his lack of a fatherly figure despite the fact he had a father. We see him interact with his father when he goes to have dinner with Soojin's own disgusting family, and we realise this is all his father does for him. He makes little quips about why he and Suho can't spend time together, and we all know Suho holds resentment at his father for cheating and sleeping with women, but also the trauma he had from dealing with paparazzi because of his father's fame, and the fact his father was barely in his life to show him emotional support and care. This is even worse when you realise again why Seoyeon got set up because his father wanted to protect his reputation, to sleep with someone, and because he didn't care about people's emotions and wellbeing.

Warmth and Comfort

Now the only thing that helped him deal with his father at first was Seoyeon and Seojun; it's making me cry again. The thing that got him through his tough upbringing was his friends, they brought purpose through music (another secret he's Leo), they brought happiness and care through friendship, and they brought comfort through their presence. They were loyal, close, and ready to help each other no matter what. His father took that away from him. Not just took that away from him but broke his mindset about how he views himself, damaged his relationship and trust with people, and pulled him into a spiral of self hate and self deprecation and regrets because he set Seoyeon up. How messed up can someone be? It's even worse because he knows he's the reason why Suho lost his friend, and he still had the guts, the confidence, the heart to plagiarise the person he ruined's song. Even not knowing that his son is the one he's plagiarising from. His father took it all from him. He made Suho think he's a burden, his reputation is a curse, and he's doomed to be alone to protect people away from him. It's funny because this is how Kyung also feels in her own regression. Both Suho and Kyung believe that they shouldn't be worth interacting with people because they're burdens and problematic for just being born. For Suho it's being born into his family, for Kyung it's being born with her looks and brains. It's incredibly heartbreaking and frustrating.

That's why it's even more painful because episode 9, Suho gets to stay in a lie for a while with Kyung's father staying with him, showing him the warmth, care and support he didn't have with his father. That's why we got that scene; it was to make you compare how different Suho's father is to him, compared to a flawed father like Kyung who's a headache but is also a good source of comfort and love. Suho finally got to feel that care that he was lacking. But still, Suho's father's coldness and heartlessness also shadow to let us know why Suho is the way he is when he has a go at Kyung and tells her to stop hanging out with Seojun; when he is posessive and protective over her without listening to what she's saying. He hasn't had a significant role model/ influence to look up to. He also became like his father on the surface and withdrawn from emotions because he doesn't receive that. It's honestly upsetting. I am so angry at Suho's father.

Regrets and Resent

But let's talk about the regression. Suho finding out his father is the one who caused Seoyeon's demise. First of all, just think about how much Suho has suffered the past ten episodes because of this issue, he's had PTSD, actual PTSD, panic attacks, depression, anxiety, isolation, just because of this issue, because Seojun told him repeatedly he was the reason for why Seoyeon jumped. Because his reputation could not save Seoyeon, because he didn't answer the phone because of his callousness and also because he fought with the very reason for why this happened; his father.

Seojun made Suho feel like he was a monster, and he was never going to be any different because his father was his father. And the thing is, this has been going for a long time, Seojun kept showing up in Suho's life ensuring he never got to be happy (at the beginning not now), he never got to feel worthy of peace, love, friendship because of what he did to Seoyeon. In a way, if you actually think about Seojun's role in Suho's life for a while, he's been like the bullys who ensured Kyung didn't feel happy being her self the way she was because of how she looked. Now he's not as bad because he's not doing it purposely with that intention of psychological harm and breakdown, because he also doesn't think Suho feels any guilt or issue with Seoyeon's demise. But it's pretty messed up that the person everyone is hailing to be this perfect specimen was literally playing the same roles as the bullies you claim to hate in Suho's life.

Like I keep repeating all these characters are flawed, have made mistakes because they're human, but the hate and the bias towards some of them is insane and makes no sense to me.

But now Suho has entirely as Kyung went back to a flash to the past, he's spiralled again into self hate, self deprecation and trauma because he found out the truth. If he's already been struggling with not answering the phone to help Seoyeon; imagine how much of a monster he'll feel because it's his dad who set Seoyeon up to fail. Imagine the pain and suffering, the self-hate, the same things Seojun kept telling him will keep repeating in his head, his reputation hurts people, his dad hurts people, and his lifestyle hurts people. He shouldn't be loved, have friends, or have people around him because he doesn't deserve that when they can end up like Seoyeon. All of his bottled down secret; self-hate is now released because the reason is connected to him from the start, it was his father. So Kyung and Suho found themselves with their masks unveiled, broken and scared and terrified about the consequences of choosing to be happy and free. Now, both of them hold this burden and weight making them feel like they don't deserve to want to be happy, in love and confident in what they deserve because of what society has done to them. And that's insane.

Soojin- A journey of a villain

Before I stop, we also need to speak about Soojin and her regression. Her regression is very fascinating and upsetting. I have been on edge about her character, and it was excruciating to see her become manipulative, sly and a full second lead this episode. But what can I say. It was going to happen. Soojin's secrets revealed this episode to Kyung is about the abuse she suffers, we also see a snippet again of her fathers sexist, heartless mindset about controlling her to ensure she makes the grades. We also see her regress back to hand washing and self-harm because of the news that Suho is dating Kyung. Now, her mindset in the last episodes have been noticing the warmth, and comfort Suho brings into her life. There's no one else who sees her, knows her, and can protect her without her mask. Suho has known her for ten years. They've been each other's support system to deal with their family, now for Suho, he cut the importance of her presence in his life because he pushed everyone away after, but for her, Suho has been a consistent person to rely on.

A safe space

Kyung showing up and making Suho open and caring made her feel fear and anxiety that the only source of happiness and warmth was being taken away from her. Suho is the only thing that makes her breath, everything else is a mask that makes her feel suffocated, even her friendships; she's not been her real self with them, she's been a perfectionist. Even her revealing her truth to Kyung this episode wasn't for friendship but for emotional manipulation, and it wasn't right. Like Kyung, Soojin regresses because she's afraid to go back to who she has to be without Suho's presence, which is protection, warmth and care compared to her actual home, cold, harsh and volatile. She had to latch onto something to stay sane and to stop breaking down. Suho, unfortunately, is what she latched onto. And it is a regression on her part because Kyung is her best friend, she's emotionally manipulating and hurting her best friend to make her self feel good and get what she wants.

Still, she's not even getting what she wants because Suho isn't going to pay attention to her apart from protecting her from her father as someone should do. Soojin has been a girls girl, supportive, protective, and kind to everyone she meets but now she's regressed to being petty, conniving and mean to her own friends because she can't lose her own safe space. Kyung regressed not to lose her safe space and for Soojin her safe space became Suho. Her regression is really unsettling because how far would she go to keep her safe space, and how far will she sacrifice Kyung's wellbeing and emotions for her own gain. She's dangerous because she knows Kyung's secret, she can unload the truth about Kyung pettily and get some kind of one up on her, which is sad because she's slowly regressing into those bullies that made Kyung's life hell.

Volatile Mindsets

In fact, she shadows like I said the popular girl in episode 1, she wants to get her way, and she feels slighted by Kyung taking it away from her. Also her self esteem, her ego is being bruised because she's meant to be the one for Suho as society keeps telling her, she's the prettiest, the smartest, his equal, why would he choose Kyung who is so far not that close to her level in any way. These are the kind of thoughts that happens when trauma makes you regress. Whilst Suho and Kyung are regressing into self-hate, and self deprecation Soojins regression is the opposite direction, it's regressing into self privilege and self-obsession, it's unfortunate.

There's so much more about this episode that we can discuss like I said everyone has a secret, but when it comes to these three, their secrets and unfortunate reveals causes them to spiral into a whirl of self-hate and pain, trauma and suffering. This has been building up for a while because their mindsets have been shaped and made this way because of all the hurts and attacks by society to them, not just society that affects them this way; with these three family affects them this way, Kyung's mum, Suho's dad, and Soojin's dad their nonchalant, and cold attitudes towards their children cause them to feel unstable and worthless, and also friends also causes them to spiral this way, For Kyung, Soojin has brought back a lot of fear and anxiety about where her life is going, and Seojun's past problematic actions have returned along with Suho's guilt to make him also spiral into self-hate and regret. Kyung, Soojin's best friend, has caused her to lose her safe space. These characters have been pushed into this by people they thought they could rely on, and that's what painful.

Anyway, if anyone wants to know my opinions on this love triangle, I appreciate Seojun he's a great second lead. Still, he's not the one for Kyung or the right person as people keep trying to say, he and Suho are still equal on terms with who she should be with. The person she cares about is Suho; the person she loves/wants is Suho. She's not thought of Seojun in that way so respect it. There is so much more going on in this show than this love triangle, so much more to discuss and fight for, each character is human and makes their mistakes, but they're all so understandable and relatable, and the pain they suffer is just insane, the psychological trauma they all hold is too much to bare, and I really hope they find their way out of this. Because right now, Suho is not going to be okay, and Kyung is in danger of her past finding her. I'm scared for them so much. This stuff may seem overdramatic and chaotic but with trauma and pain, and self-hate and psychological distress, it's not easy to overcome emotional abuse, trauma and mindsets that make you feel you're not meant to be alive, and all these characters are going through that. And it's so painful. Let's hope we find a way out of this: love triangle or no love triangle.

#true beauty #true beauty kdrama #kdrama #lee suho #im jukyung #han seojun #cha eunwoo #moon ga young #cwg #january

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acesophiewalten · 3 years ago

Text

Beauty

Word Count: 1,326

Fandom: The Walten Files

Tags: Mild Gore, mentions of broken bones, Character Study, well it's a bit of a character study anyway, Canonical Character Death, Angst, Jack Walten Is Bon, of course disclaimer that i don't condone jack's feelings on beauty here, Rosemary Walten Deserves Better, does jack love his wife? yes, is that going to stop him? no!, possibly ooc, i'm not sure honestly

Read on Ao3!

Tagging!! @batmarriedacat @petulant-poet @another-her

She isn’t beautiful anymore. That’s the first thing he notices.

How much could one person have changed? Her eyes are red, dull, with deep purple bags underneath them. She is close to tears, though whether that’s simply how she looks now or whether that’s the natural reaction of seeing a nine-foot-tall animatronic rabbit stand in front of you, he isn’t sure. Her skin has paled, thinned, if he squinted he was sure he could see her veins poking through. The idea of her not eating made his throat constrict - well, as constrict as much as it could, being metal. Her turtleneck hung on her body, loosely. She’s trembling - once again, is that due to being confronted, or was it simply something she had acquired? - and her breath is so quick he can’t pick up on when she takes a breath in and lets it out, he can only make out the small movements of her bony shoulders. Due to the paleness of her skin and the brightness of her sweater, she appears to glow among the dark backrooms. In one hand, one emaciated, translucent, shaking, nearly destroyed hand, she holds a flickering flashlight, right up to his mechanical face. Her mouth slightly opened, closed, then opened again, before settling in a white line. She must notice, then, his moving eyes, the grinding jaws, the movement and life to him. Her hair is down, uncombed, and frizzy beyond belief. He thought - she wasn’t even like this when Edd and Molly died, this had to be because of his disappearance.

So this is what she’d become. He lured her back here to discover a shadow, a remnant, so consumed by loss that she had been completely destroyed - at least looked like it. What was the point of seeing her again, then, if all he saw was some poor, run-down, barely-functioning version of his wife? The Rosie! Rosie! I know where he is! Rosie! had done nothing but show him what she’d turned into - a shell, suffering under the weight of her own ignorance, her own fears. He’s disgusted, why does he suddenly want to cry?

And yet, she’s still pretty. It’s hard for her not to be - she has a sort of internal prettiness that never once falters, fades, or shies away. If her hair had been shorn off, if she hadn’t slept in weeks, if her clothes were shredded and her face bashed in and her skeleton showed beneath rotting, mottled, blue skin, she’d still be pretty, for that was simply her way. Even now, he could recognize that her eyes were still their brilliant dark blue, her hair, though frizzy, though let down, loose, and soaked with humidity and sweat, was still the loveliest caramel-brown, and its bounce and curl could still be seen. Her lips could extend into a smile that made you feel giddy, weak. Her skin was still adorably freckled, her lashes long, her large eyes even larger with terror. It was more than her looks, though, it was the way she simply was, as real and as natural as her hair, her eyes, her limbs. You couldn’t take the prettiness out of Rosemary Walten unless you scratched at her body, peeled at her skin, ripped her apart, bit and tore and forced it out of her.

But prettiness wasn’t beauty, now was it? No amount of prettiness could compare to true beauty - the beauty of happiness, the beauty of awareness, the beauty of feeling safe, wanted, loved, adored, needed, desired. She had been drained of beauty. Through a lack of knowledge, through despair, through his disappearance that made her so, so desperate, she wasn’t beautiful anymore. She was in shards. He felt a disturbing amount of pity for her, she was so saddened, so frightened, so clearly incapacitated by grief that all she could do was to stare up at him, tears now let free and running down her face, her body shaking, her lips quivering. He had succeeded in tearing out her beauty, and he had to fix her. He’d done this, of course, not forcing her to see, sooner, not letting her in on the truth, refusing her until she became horribly, overwhelmingly, utterly...not quite ugly. She wasn’t ugly. She’d never be ugly. He couldn’t stand to see her like this, though, and what was he supposed to do, now that she was in front of him? Let her go? Let her go on living, terrified, shaken beyond belief? She was broken, and he, as her husband, as her confidant, as her companion for god-knows-how-long, had to fix her. He simply had to.

He thinks, at the moment, that this is an act born out of tenderness. He looks at her - the frizzy hair, the dull eyes, the shrunken skin, the large turtleneck, the pure, draining hope that her husband is around here, somewhere, and feels as if he is about to fall over. If bile could rise in a machine’s throat, it would be rising. He sometimes took pleasure in what he did - he took pleasure in Susan, in Charles, and sometimes others - but this, he assures himself, is a necessity. An act of love from a husband who had abandoned his wife. Left her to rot. He finally says what he’s thinking - Rosemary, he relishes the name in his mouth, you’re broken. I will fix you.

He hopes that, even with his wheezing voice box and the monotone voice he now has, his emotion can show through. He hopes she understands that he means it, that this is, in no way, out of malice, out of hatred, out of a desire to hurt her. The idea that he is lying to himself crosses his mind, and it violently repels him.

He takes a step towards her and she finally starts to scream.

Perhaps it is simply that, her screams, her attempt to run away, that makes him grab hold of her arm, and perhaps it was who exactly she screamed for - Sophie, Felix, anybody! - that made him squeeze it and hear the agonizing crush of her bones. Why was she crying out for Felix, of all people? The very thought of it made him tighten his grip more, only bruising her, breaking her, and Sophie? Sophie could be here, he remembered, watching, staring on with fascination, unable to look away, unable to move. She could be behind the door, looking through the window, even behind him, having come in unnoticed, hands covering her mouth, possibly shaking. Possibly trying to get herself to run in and distract him long enough to save her mother, sacrificing herself in the process. Sophie could be behind the boxes. Sophie could be at his feet, and he hadn’t noticed. Sophie could be in the next room over, hearing everything. Sophie could be getting Felix, assuming that Felix wasn’t in the room as well, looking on with shock and horror. His eyes scan the room, trying to spot anything, anything - but he cannot. He is sure he’s alone, with his screaming, writhing, petrified wife - pity and something very, very close to love, almost indistinguishable from it, fills him.

Jack Walten destroyed Rosemary particle by particle, scratched at her body, peeled at her skin, ripped her apart, bit and tore until only her prettiness remained, stubborn as it was. By the time he was finally satisfied - her mechanics were properly set, her skin was sitting comfortably inside Sha’s suit, the blood had been slightly cleaned up, he watched as her eyes opened, her limbs began to move, her mouth opened and closed with small creaks and groans in the metal joints - he had never seen anything more beautiful in his life. He sat next to her and nearly laid his head on her shoulder. How truly perfect she is, he thought, is, was, and will be, forever.

#jean.posts #jean.writes #i have given in and written twf fic #thank u to ocean for beta reading!!#gore tw #death tw #violence tw #injury tw #just everything you would expect to find in a fic based on a horror series #i'm actually really proud of this #the walten files #jack walten #rosemary walten #felix kranken #sophie walten #boozoo's ghosts #susan woodings #charles

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mordoriscalling · 4 years ago

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Life (of) Surprise (3/5)

Jaskier lies to his family about being engaged to Geralt for the second time… and there are way too many surprises involved.

Part 4 of the Singer and the Sailor AU that no one asked for but I wrote anyway (again). Warnings: Jaskier and Geralt have a serious argument in this one.

(Part 1) (Part 2)

III - A Surprise Realisation

Geralt never thought he’d get married again, much less to a man. Leave alone a man like Jaskier, who is loud, bright, and charismatic; unlike Geralt in so many aspects that by all means, their relationship shouldn’t work as well as it does.

He’s a divorcee. His previous relationships didn’t last. Rationally, he knows he should’ve been more cautious, yet when Jaskier got down on one knee that April morning, Geralt found himself unable to say no. He was so tired that day, but that wasn’t the reason he said yes. He agreed to marry Jaskier because back then – as he looked into Jaskier’s eyes, blue like the cloudless sky above them – he realised that it seemed right.

Jaskier’s always accepted Geralt the way he is, with all his problems and mistakes. Jaskier is both safety and adventure. He’s trustworthy and unpredictable; a fascinating contradiction that Geralt could see himself exploring for the rest of his life.

Or so he thought.

“Eight months,” Geralt grits out, his emotions balancing at the edge of fury.

Jaskier says nothing, his eyes cast downwards, standing in the middle of the room with the air of a puppy about to be kicked.

“We’ve been engaged for eight fucking months,” Geralt growls, “and you’re only telling me this now?”

“I wanted to come clean,” Jaskier answers weakly. His voice doesn’t waver.

The steadiness of his voice shouldn’t be surprising, though. Jaskier’s a singer. A performer. A very good one. Geralt didn’t have an issue with that before. The only problem with Jaskier that Geralt’s ever truly had it that Jaskier can be extremely inconsiderate at times.

Now, the former and the latter seem to have merged into something that Geralt isn’t sure he can forgive.

“You didn’t think about doing that earlier?” he asks.

It’s New Year’s Eve. They’re in Jaskier’s childhood bedroom, where they’re to sleep for the night. Downstairs, a party is about to begin, with both Jaskier’s and Geralt’s family and closest friends in attendance. Jaskier’s parents, Wanda and Alfred. Rozalia and Silvio, Amelia with Nasir and their daughter. Triss, Essi and Eskel. Aiden and Lambert. Vesemir, Yennefer, Ciri, Dara.

Geralt suspects that everyone is waiting in the dining room already. Yet, this is the moment that Jaskier chose to tell him about the circumstances of their engagement.

“I didn’t have the courage,” Jaskier replies, “I was afraid you’d take it the wrong way.”

“Have the fuck am I supposed to take it any other way?!” Geralt barks, making Jaskier flinch. “You told your family that we’d marry before you asked me to marry you.”

It’s dark outside the tall windows. The only source of light in the room is the chandelier above Jaskier’s head, hanging down from the high ceiling. The lamps cast Jaskier in a warm glow, and to Geralt, it seems as if he saw his fiancé for the first time. There’s a stubborn set to Jaskier’s jaw as he still refuses to look at nowhere but the wooden floor.

“You did that for what?” Geralt demands, “So that you look good in front of your family? Is... us some kind of fucking performance for you? Have you been pretending from the –”

“No,” Jaskier cuts in. His gaze is finally on Geralt, and he appears genuinely aghast at the notion. “The only pretending I’ve ever done is lying to myself that our engagement was for real the whole time! I told everyone that we’d marry because I wished it so badly to be true! I wanted it to happen, so I said something that would force me to make it happen.”

The confession would be heart-warming if not for the last sentence, which makes Geralt’s blood run cold. He walks up to Jaskier slowly, staring him down, trying to see through the (distracting, deceptive) blue of his eyes.

“You would’ve made it happen?” he murmurs, his emotions treading the dangerous line again, “If I’d said no, would you have persisted? Manipulated me, as you did with the spring wedding?”

A broken noise escapes Jaskier’s lips. “That wasn’t my intention! I’m so sorry that I made you feel this way. Please forgive me, I never meant it like that–”

“I’m starting to doubt every word you say,” Geralt interrupts, because now their nearly three years together feel fake.

Jaskier takes a step back, hurt written all over his features. Tears well up in his eyes as he exclaims, “I’m not lying! I’m not lying when I say that you’re the only one that I want to marry.”

Geralt doesn’t want to hear it. He moves to walk away but Jaskier grabs him by the arm. “Dammit Jaskier,” he growls, “don’t–”

“Listen to me,” Jaskier says, insistent.

Geralt tries not to, looks away to distance himself, but Jaskier’s voice is that of a siren – arresting and irresistible, powerful even when hushed.

“I never thought that I’d settle down. I fell in love too easily. One day a woman from the bar would have my heart, and then next it would be a guy at the bus stop. Commitment wasn’t my thing.”

Geralt scowls, about to ask how that information is supposed to help in the current situation, but Jaskier speaks first.

“But then, then I met someone who’s so deeply fascinating that I can’t stop thinking about him. He’s been through so much and yet he’s nothing but kind and considerate. He has so much presence but he rarely uses it to his advantage. He feels so much and yet he shows nothing. He...” Jaskier chuckles, the sound somehow both warm and sad. “He’s honest with me and calls me out on my mistakes, challenging me to be better. Thanks to him, I don’t stop learning. With him, it seems like... like we’re writing a gripping book. A... a story I want to go on and on.”

A story without an ending may not be a happy one, Geralt muses. He says nothing, though, still looking away, and Jaskier speaks up again.

“From the moment I met you, I’ve wanted you to stay, but perhaps–” he cuts himself off, releasing out a shaky sigh. He lets go of Geralt’s arm at least and then utters, “Perhaps I love you too much. Maybe it’s not healthy, after all.”

Pain seeps through every syllable as Jaskier says this. Geralt has to swallow hard because that, that seems so wrong. How can it not be healthy when the only time they truly breathe – truly relax and let go – is as they are around each other?

Geralt stands frozen, listening to Jaskier’s sniffs, and tries to process all that he’s heard. He has to fight his fervent want to believe Jaskier’s loving words. He wishes it to be true, yet the recent revelation’s stained all they’ve been through with the ugly thought that Geralt’s feelings – his love – have just been a fucking box to tick.

The sheer hurt of it settles somewhere deep within him, clawing a hole in his chest, wrenching, pulling all the air out of his lungs. He can’t stand being next to Jaskier anymore and escapes to the bathroom, which is adjacent to the bedroom.

The water is cool as Geralt splashes it all over his face. He tries to take his emotions under control, especially that anger raises within him once more. He’s a moment away from doing some real damage to the furniture.

He doesn’t know how long it takes him to calm down. He assumes that enough time passes for Jaskier to decide to go downstairs without him, which is the only wish he has right now. Yet, as he emerges from the bathroom, it (unsurprisingly) turns out that he can't have what he wants – Jaskier sits there, at the edge of the large bed, his face hidden in his hands. As he hears Geralt approach, he raises his head revealing his dishevelled hair and red-rimmed eyes.

He’s a picture of misery and Geralt heart lurches in sympathy, in a ridiculous need to comfort his fiancé, despite his anger.

They stay like that, staring at each other for a few unbearable moments of heavy, choking silence, until Geralt finally breaks it.

“Dinner must’ve started by now,” he says, “We should go.”

A rasped “okay” is all the answer Jaskier gives.

They don’t pretend that everything is all right. Everybody quickly notices the tension between them and the dinner is a painful affair at the beginning. It’s a miracle that everyone’s managed to gather here today, though. The two families seem determined to make the best of it and the initial awkwardness soon passes. Conversations start flowing and after some time, everyone is getting along well enough for the party not to be torturous.

When dinner is finished, Jaskier’s parents invite them to the living room. There, a piano awaits, and Jaskier launches into a short performance that leaves everyone spell-bound, including Geralt, even though it hurts.

It hurts to watch Jaskier’s fingers dance over the keys, knowing the way in which those beautiful hands touch his body. It hurts to see the tempting curve of Jaskier’s neck, knowing how Jaskier always gasps when he kisses it. It hurts to watch Jaskier shine because he believed that he had a part of Jaskier’s light to himself.

And yet. Now, there’s the ugly thought at the back of his head that it wasn’t true. Jaskier did claim it was.

And yet.

The moment the performance ends, Geralt decides to survive by sticking with Silvio. Rozalia’s husband is talkative but what he loves chattering about the most is the cats and dogs he’s fostering with his wife. He shows Geralt pictures and videos, which improves Geralt’s mood slightly.

After Triss and Nasir steal Silvio away, Geralt is left alone, sitting in the corner of the room with his glass of wine. On instinct, his eyes search for his daughter. He finds her talking to Jaskier’s sister and frowns.

He loves Ciri more than life itself but he’s aware that she’s can be a right brat. He’s also familiar with Amelia and Rozalia enough to know that they’re very likely to be charmed by Cirilla’s vicious streak. Jaskier seems to know it too, and he appears genuinely terrified as he watches his sisters chat with Ciri, the three smiling mysteriously.

Then, Yennefer joins them, and Geralt is... apprehensive.

The party goes on. Some people, like his brothers, leave Geralt in peace. Others, such as Jaskier’s parents, insist on speaking to him. He picks his way through the, admittedly polite and pleasant, conversations, until no one wants to talk to him.

All the while, his gaze strays to Jaskier. Geralt watches him joke with Essi and Vesemir, laugh at something Lambert and Eskel are saying, take his niece into his arms and coo at her with Aiden by his side.

As Geralt observes Jaskier hold little Zofia and smile at her lovingly while Aiden makes funny faces at her, he suddenly comes to understand how tightly Jaskier has managed to weave himself in between all the threads that make Geralt’s life. All his family know Jaskier and accept him. Most of them are fond of him, or downright adore him. Geralt’s thoughts and memories of the sea are mingled with Jaskier’s songs. He doesn’t miss being at sea as much as he feared in large part due to Jaskier engaging him in his own life. Jaskier knows him, like a true friend does.

Removing him from the tapestry would leave a jagged hole, and Geralt realises that it’s not something he’d ever want. After all, he doesn’t have a particular place where he belongs. His home is where his loved ones are.

And he loves Jaskier so.

It’s ten minutes to midnight when Jaskier approaches him for the first time since the argument. Geralt still sits on the couch without any company as Jaskier stands before him, clearly putting up a happy face.

“I love the way you just... sit in the corner and brood,” he remarks, his cheerfulness falling flat,

Geralt rolls his eyes, irritated. “I’m here to drink alone,” he grunts.

Jaskier, of course, refuses to take the hint and sits down beside him. Before Geralt can protest it, though, loud giggles catch his attention. He looks at the source of the sound and sees Ciri and Dara laughing at something on their phones (a meme, Geralt assumes). Joy at seeing his daughter’s happiness fill him but then Jaskier’s voice snaps him back to reality.

“If you say that you don’t believe me,” he says, “what must Dara think?”

Geralt looks at him sharply and immediately understands the sadness in his eyes. He’s aware of how much Jaskier wants Dara to know that all he’s done to help the boy – putting his career on hold to care for him, providing for him, going to therapy with him – are driven by genuine willingness to help, not pity or charity.

“Maybe I’m not good at...” Jaskier goes on, a wry smile twisting his lips, “Well. This whole... guardian thing.”

“You are,” Geralt replies.

It is true. Dara agreed to say with Jaskier eight months ago. The boy is still grieving and struggling but Jaskier has been supporting him through it with surprisingly few missteps.

“Thank you,” Jaskier answers, uncharismatically timid.“I... Geralt,” he begins, his tone sombre.

Geralt tenses and waits. His free hand, the one not holding the wine glass, clenches into a fist.

“I’m sorry for withholding the truth from you for so long, I was...” Jaskier swallows. “Stupid. It was wrong of me, and I... I promise it won’t happen again.”

He looks away and considers, even though there isn’t much to wonder about. There’s no coming back from how important Jaskier is to him, for better or for worse. His hurt is far from mended but Geralt nods. Jaskier heaves a sigh and lays his hand atop Geralt clenched fist.

“Will you stay?” Jaskier murmurs.

A memory strikes him – of how Jaskier asked him the same thing almost three years ago as they stood outside this very house.

In the background, the countdown begins. Geralt unclenches his fist and takes Jaskier’s hand in his, giving it a squeeze. Jaskier squeezes back and the New Year starts.

***

A/N: the chapter count went up to 5 because I wanted to split ch3 into two smaller parts. Also, you can also read this fic on AO3.

#my fic #geraskier #geralt x jaskier #the witcher fanfiction #modern au #the Sailor and the Singer AU

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surveys-at-your-service · 4 years ago

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Survey #398

“freedom is just man’s invention, & a soldier is just a slave”

What do you do the most when you’re online? Watch/listen to YouTube. Do you have a bobblehead? No. Have you ever spent your birthday alone? No, that sure would suck. Were you afraid of heights as a child? Actually no, but NOW I kinda am. Have you ever had a lead role in a play? No. Would you ever take a solo road trip? No, that sounds super depressing and lonely. Do the mountains fascinate you? Of course! So much history built into a magnificent, awe-inspiring piece of nature. Have you ever been insulted or called names by a significant other? Wow, no. I wouldn't tolerate that for a second. What’s your favorite movie battle scene? The fight between Simba and Scar is very powerful imo. Have you ever been to a same-sex wedding? No, but not because I'm opposed. I'd love to go to one and be the photographer. What’s your favorite Marvel movie? Probably one of the Spider-Man films. I don't remember which it is, and I don't want to spoil it by explaining what I do recall. Did you have a Walkman when you were a kid? No. What’s the most difficult experience you and a significant other have gone through together? Being long-distance when we really wanted each other's physical comfort. Have you ever attempted to pick a lock? Did you succeed? Yes, because Ashley locked her keys in the car. I don't remember if it worked, actually. Have you done the Bratz doll challenge for YouTube? No. I've seen a couple people do it, though, and it's both cool and creepy. Does the hospital in your town have a good reputation? NOOOOOOOOOOOO. What is your favorite nickname that you’ve had? "Bee" from Megan. Have you ever gotten a professional massage? No. I would be SO uncomfortable. If you had braces, do you wear your retainers still? No. :/ Well, the one you put in, anyone. I have a metal one behind the front row of my bottom teeth. If you had braces, have your teeth moved since you got them off? Yes. Do you know anyone personally who’s lost a child? I know way too many people who have suffered miscarriages. Do you take your medications regularly? Yes. What’s one luxury item you wish you could afford? An actually nice house. What’s your favorite thing to do in a swimming pool? Just kinda casually swim around. Have you ever been abused by a cop? No. What is one thing that you took to show-and-tell as a kid? My Snorlax plushy. Do you remember losing your first tooth? No. In the summer would you rather have the windows down or the A/C on in the car? I strongly prefer A/C. Have you ever been addicted to a game? What game? I had a long-time addiction to World of Warcraft for a couple years or so. I still play it now, but I'm not addicted to it anymore. As a matter of fact I get bored of it easily now. Which was better: the original The Lion King or the sequel? The original, but I love both very much. Do any of your grandparents have a tattoo? I don't know if any did. Do you believe that your pets feel love towards you? Roman, 120%. It is so obvious. Venus, no, as reptiles are literally incapable of experiencing that emotion. I do, however, know she trusts me. Are you proud of your body? FUCK no. Have you ever been rushed to the hospital in an ambulance? No. How do YOU believe the world & universe started? I don't know. I feel like MAYBE there is some sort of ultimate intelligence that formed the universe (maybe prompted the Big Bang, though I've always been dubious of that occurring naturally), but I don't think of this topic frequently at all. Does it really matter, after all? We're here, so just focus on that and live in the now. Have you ever stuck gum under a desk/chair? NO, that shit grosses me the hell out. When shopping at a grocery store, do you return your cart or just leave it? Return your fucking cart, please. It is NOT that difficult. What is one thing you’d never want your parents to find out? Certain places I've, uh, "done" things. When you were little, did you like Dr. Suess books? Yep. I seriously loved Green Eggs and Ham. What would you consider unforgivable? Rape is #1. Would you rather give your food to a homeless shelter or money to charity? Food to a homeless shelter, but I'd love to do both. What was your least favorite year of your life so far? 2016 was a fucking NIGHTMARE. Have you spent money on a game online? On one occasion, I asked if Mom would reactivate my WoW account, and when two expansions came out, I asked if she could buy them. I HATED asking. Thankfully, now, I'm rich enough in the game to pay for the "token" currency, which renews your subscription for a month, so I essentially play for free now. Have you been called a bad influence? Yes. Have any self-done piercings? Noooo. I only trust professionals. Ever pierced someone else? Again, no. Leave it to professionals, as well as someone without tremors. If you had a child with down’s syndrome, would you keep him/her? IF I wanted kids, of course I would. It really, REALLY bothers me when DS is the reason behind abortion. Mind you, I am pro-choice, but come on... Don't treat down's syndrome children as a curse. If someone tried to murder your child, do you think it would be wrong to expose them publicly and talk about it on social media? Of fucking course I would. I'd damn that person to hell myself. Is there a toxic person that you miss? I sometimes miss Colleen. Are you still contemplating going back to someone you shouldn’t? With Jason, yes. If he actually wanted me back (that will never happen, but anyway), I fear I'd say yes and probably would, realistically. When was the last time you had a new crush? When I realized I was bisexual. Do you want Jesus to come back soon? Back when I was a Christian, I was terrified of Judgment Day. I don't believe in it now. What is something you can’t wear because of your body type? I COULD wear whatever the hell I wanted, but I refuse to wear crop tops or strapless tops (or strapless bras). Oh, and thongs. No thanks. If you have curves, do you like them? I'm not curvy naturally, I'm just fat. Have you ever worn matching pajamas with someone? No, but that'd be cute. Has anyone ever mistaken you for being anorexic? No way. What fast food place do you avoid at all costs? Arby's, to name one. Are you afraid of deep sea creatures? Yes, especially giant squid. Have you ever agreed to purchase something on Ebay and got scammed somehow? Ugh, I got Ico THREE TIMES and they were ALL broken; they'd freeze in the first few minutes. Has anybody ever given you a promise ring? No. What is your favorite kind of cake? Red velvet. Honestly, have you ever eaten raw cookie dough? Yeah, multiple times. Were you outdoors or indoors more as a kid? I'd say it was a split down the middle. Have you ever had a relationship that began via text? Jason, Tyler, Juan, and Sara all began over text. Girt asked me out over Facebook Messenger. Do you think sloths are cute or ugly? They're cuties! What eyeshadow suits you best? I only wear black eyeshadow. Do you watch the show Wizards of Waverly Place? I did as a kid and really liked it. Have you ever been to the rainforest? No. I don't think I could handle the humidity, though I'd love to see all the beautiful wonders. Are you a member of any clubs? No. Would you shave your head with a friend who had cancer? If it was someone I was very close to and they were extremely self-conscious about it, I'd probably be willing to get very short hair, but I don't think I could handle no hair at all. How did you meet your pet? Roman was one of the kittens of Ashley's mother-in-law's cats. She has way too many cats and needed to get rid of the kittens, and I'd been wanting one like mad. I found Venus via the online reptile-selling hub called Morph Market, and I became VERY interested in the many, many ball python morphs, and when I saw her, I immediately knew that was my baby. Did/Do you have any PEZ dispensers? I did as a kiddo. What are some of the phrases in your personal ‘bingo’ card? "Mood," "can't relate," "hi, how are ya," "jinkies," "yikes," "oof," shit like that. Have you ever been through a trap door? No. Do/did you have to wear a uniform to your high school? No, only middle school. How many video games do you own? A whole lot. Have you ever visited a sex shop? No. Have you ever ridden a bicycle through a busy city? No, I'd be very scared to. Do you use Instagram? How often do you post there? I have two for my varying photography subjects. I post very rarely on both. Have you ever had a scary encounter with a wild animal? I have not.

#survey #surveys #random questions #lyrics: ''civilize the universe'' by ozzy osbourne

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loveafterthefact · 4 years ago

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Love After the Fact Chapter 65: Broken Spell

Keith enjoys a morning out with Lance... Except for this one, *tiny* problem

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Keith wakes to a bare leg slung over his hip, fingers trailing from his shoulder and down his side, sliding across his waist to form teasing circles low on his abdomen. Lips flutter against the edge of his exposed ear, just a hint of teeth.

“Seriously?”

“What? I spent almost a decaphoeb celibate for you!” The Altean snuggles closer. “And now I find myself with a beautiful man in my arms who, unlike anyone else I’ve ever had, is entirely mine.”

The growl on Lance’s final word has Keith wavering, until he shifts and discovers the discomfort between his legs. He sucks in a breath between his teeth. “I think the fuck not, Lance. What did you do to my vagina?”

“Crude. Also, nothing. Discomfort is normal your first time. But I can fix it, if you like.”

“Please do. And how would you know that’s normal?”

“Well, I have an ass.”

“Gross.” Keith sighs as Lance’s quintessence slips beneath his skin. He’s come to associate that warmth slithering into his veins and nerves with Lance’s love and affection. It's familiar to him now, bringing him comfort, a sense of home and belonging. Basically, he’s a huge sucker.

“Hm… I’d love to have you in it.”

“Lance!” Keith roles over, discomfort gone, glaring at his mate. Lance raises an eyebrow. “I’ll... think about it. Thace says that I have to check and make sure my dick works anyway.”

“I’d be delighted to help, either way.” The Altean's smile is playful, easy-going.

“I’m sure you would.” Keith sighs. “So that’s the plan then? Have sex all day?”

“Mnh, no. We're going home before your season.”

“Lance, I need to have my season here. And stay two movements after that to see if I’ve conceived-”

“I meant your home, beloved. Your childhood home, remember? We said we’d-”

“Really?! You- Really?!” Keith’s face lights up like a thousand stars.

Lance beams. “Yes, really!"

Keith throws his arms around his mate. He'd never really doubted Lance's word, but that word still means worlds to him. Furry, plumed tail twisting around his ankle, purring loudly in his throat, Keith nuzzles into Lance's neck. He loves this Altean so much, couldn't think of a better place to be than right here.

Okay, maybe he's riding the high of being freshly mated, but he actually doesn't feel that different than before. Maybe a little giddy, but other than that... no more or less full of love. Still just as overflowing.

Laughing, Lance squeezes him tight, fingers running through his long, loose hair. He lets go all to soon- "Let’s go! Get your clothes on!”

Keith leaps up, scrambling for a fresh set of clothes. Lance flops back on the bed, chuckling as his spouse’s eagerness. The Galra pauses, turning back to meet Lance’s soft gaze. “What?”

“I love you,” Lance sighs.

“Well I should hope so, since I just gave myself over to you.” Keith grins, just a little cocky. “I love you, too.”

He pulls his shirt over his head, tucks the hem into the waist of his pants. Lance is still staring at him. “What?”

“Are we really gonna have a baby?”

“So that’s what you’re up to, is it?” Krolia leans in the doorway. Lance shrieks, pulling the blankets up to cover himself. “Making kits?”

“Well, we’re going to try. We’ll see what happens,” Lance squeaks. “Could you, um, let me get dressed?”

“Yeah, seriously, Mom. What the fuck?” Keith snickers, settling his circlet on his head. He hasn’t worn it in a while, but feels like it today. Lance wears his every day.

“Fine.” Krolia turns around, still leaning against the wall. “You do realize, don’t you Altean, just how easy it is for a Galra in season to conceive?”

“Uh… Not really, no. Altean females ovulate every ten movements -two phoebs-, and even then pregnancy is far from assured. It can take decaphoebs to-”

“During season, pregnancy is all but guaranteed, even for intersex people like Keith, though they do have a slightly lower success rate.” Krolia turns back, slow, slim smile on her lips. “So you’d better be damn well sure you want a kit with my son.”

Lance, fully dressed, slips an arm around Keith’s waist. “We have a responsibility to provide my kingdom with an heir. It’s an ugly thing, but it is something that we must take into account.” Keith’s tail twists around Lance’s ankle, squeezing tightly, approval of his honesty and forthright. “That said, I have wanted to be a father since I was a small child myself. I’m more than ready for it, and more than certain. Especially if I’ve got this one by my side!”

Lance beams, pressing their brows together. Keith purrs, soft and sweet in his throat.

“Right. So, we need elk, and supplies, and to meet up with hunters-”

“I want to visit the Sanctorium. I need to get an offering for my father.”

“You’re going back home? It’s almost your season!” Krolia frowns.

“Yes, which is why we’re going now,” Lance argues. “It’s not terribly far, it’ll give me a chance to see some of the wilderness, and we’ll be sure to return within a movement. In the meantime, we’ll send a message to Thace and inform him of our intentions to conceive, and he can begin collaboration with our own castle health care professional, Tavo, and Hunk, who is in charge of providing Keith’s meals. Additionally, I’ll have Adam and Pidge break into Daibazaal’s database and steal Lotor’s medical records. Honerva and Zarkon refused to unseal them for us.”

“Odd.” Krolia cocks her head, counting her coins, passing them to Keith. “Why would they refuse?”

“Not sure. Perhaps his records will tell us something. I intend to ask the man himself, as well.”

"Let me do it," Keith murmurs. "He's my cousin."

"Sure, of course! Do let me know what he says, though."

Krolia eyes them, gaze dark. “The Imperial couple is as morally dubious as Alfor is. Everybody knows that.”

Keith ties the bag of coins to his belt, scooping BleepBloop onto his shoulder. The primate works a hand into Keith’s hair, the other exploring his circlet. “Possibly even worse, though that is debatable.”

“Oh. Remind me to tell you about that later,” Lance mutters, suddenly looking nervous. “But for now, to the square! I want to see this 'Sactomium' you talked of.”

Arms linked, Keith leads Lance through the crowded streets, attention completely on each other save one moment where Lance murmurs something to Krolia, and she heads off with a nod, and something shiny in her hand...

The Sanctorium is a large structure, much like a den, but much larger, surrounded by gardens, vines creeping up the sides. Druids in long robes and masks walk among the vegetation, taking clippings and peeling bark from trees. Windchimes made of metal, wood, glass, and stone sing from tree branches and metal stands. There are Galra praying, meditating, simply walking about the grounds. Some converse with Druids, perhaps seeking spiritual council or advice on different rituals.

“So what are we here for?” Lance asks, gazing up at the structure. It’s clearly treated with respect. The stone is cared for and polished, painted with intricate designs, stained glass in the windows.

“Herbs. And a few different crystals. I need to make an offering spell for my father. For both a reunion and a goodbye.” Keith passes BleepBloop over to his mate, leading the way into the Sanctorium.

Inside is just as fascinating as the outside. There are shelves, arranged in a spiral shape, a single aisle through the middle to a desk, a Druid standing just behind. The shelves are lined with… stuff. Some, Lance can tell, are herbs, seeds, bits of stone and crystal. Some are definitely pieces of animals, like feet, claws, teeth, tails, and feathers. Others are… presumably one or possibly more of those things, but Lance can’t really tell.

“Hey, what do you think about this?” Keith holds up a clawed foot of some kind, only for BleepBloop to snatch and start munching on it. The Galra rolls his eyes at his uncooperative pet.

Lance shrugs. “I… Know nothing at all about your religion, either your magyks or your gods.”

“The basics are as follows,” Keith says, wandering through the aisles, grabbing seemingly random objects. “Different stuff does different stuff and only the druids know all of the stuff. And we have gods. There are hundreds of them, and everyone picks one or two to observe.”

“So who do you observe?” Lance leans over to inspect a box of he knows from his studies are shards of volcanic glass.

“Trija.” Keith continues selecting, measuring, gathering different objects, setting them all in a clay jar.

“Trija?” Lance’s brow furrows, a bit of forgotten knowledge tickling at his mind.

“She’s a star. A small one. She was our first empress, who supposedly married a sorceress and joined her in the stars when they both died.”

“I see… Why did you pick Trija?”

Keith pauses, fingers hovering over a box of dried fruits. Or maybe they were some kind of dead animal? He shakes himself, sets one of the dried… things in his jar.

“It was the only star I remembered. My father, he tried to teach me about the stars. I was really little, only six when he died, and I was a… precocious child-”

“Sassy. Opinionated. Stubborn. An adorable pain in the ass, no doubt.”

“Heh, yeah. Pretty much. But the one that managed to stick with me, no matter how unwilling a pupil I was, was Trija, because of the story. I held onto that, all those years. I was little, and alone, and I couldn’t sleep hardly at all. So I’d sit on top of the den, or in a tree, and I’d stare at her for hours, and it made everything just a little bit better. It made me feel less alone.”

“Keith…”

Keith’s fingers stop trailing over jars of herbs, turning to look at his mate, only for the Altean to latch onto him like a sucker eel, squeezing him tight. “I’m sorry. It was Altea’s fault you went through all that. My people took your father from you. I’m so sorry, Keith.”

“It’s not your fault,” Keith mutters, voice surprisingly thin. “Don’t apologize for them.”

“I promise I’ll ruin our childrens’ childhoods by spoiling them, not killing their parents.”

“Well, I am one of their parents, so…” Keith noses into Lance’s neck. “Let me buy this, and then we can-”

Keith’s eyes find Krolia, leaning in the entryway, glaring at Lance with absolute loathing. Something inside him breaks a little bit. She’d promised- Well, no, she hadn’t promised, but she’d agreed to give Lance a chance, to give him the opportunity to prove himself. And yet here she is, his mother, staring at his mate like she wants nothing more than to eviscerate him.

Something in Keith hardens, even as he squeezes Lance harder so he won’t pull back and see. He feels betrayed. It must reach his eyes, because Krolia falters in her glare, blinking at him in alarm.

Keith meets her gaze, stares her down as he rubs his cheek against Lance’s skin. Petty? Totally. Possessive? Oh, yeah. Necessary? Absolutely. He hates it, but yesterday, he would have chosen Lance, and today, it wouldn't be a choice at all.

“Come on, beloved.” Lance rubs his back, soothing circles. “Let’s get the stuff for your offering, and then get you home.” The prince draws back, lacing their hands together. “I want to meet Akira of house Kogane. I want to thank him for saving you.”

“Of course you do,” Keith murmurs, smiling, hand slipping up to link their arms. “I don’t remember him very well, but Dad would have liked you. He was the fun-loving, mischievous type. I think… That’s how I remember him, anyway.”

“If he made you, he must have been. You certainly didn’t get it from Krolia.”

“Yeah…” Keith grimaces, paying the druid behind the desk for his stuff. “You’ve no idea.”

“I mean… I’ve shared a room with her. For about a varga. I think I’ve at least some idea.”

Keith laughs. He just wants to enjoy Lance’s company, riding the high of their freshly consummated bond.

“But you know… Your mother has had a hard life, and one far from painless. It might just be taking her a while to remember how to do those things.”

“Yeah. I guess. Maybe.” They step together out into the sun. “Maybe she’ll loosen up as time goes on, huh?”

“Lance!” Krolia jogs up, like she just arrived. “I need to speak to you for a moment. Alone.”

“Very well.” Lance lifts their joined hands to indicate a pair of elk, laden with saddlebags, suddenly reminding Keith of his first night in the castle, when Lance gave him a tour of their quarters. “Your mother procured some supplies and elk for us, over there. Do you mind?”

“I guess not…” Keith eyes his mother cautiously. “See you soon?”

“Yes, and then we’ll leave.” Lance kisses his cheek, hurrying after Krolia.

Anxious, Keith heads for the elk, recognizing one of them as Lance’s doe from training, Bruna. He rubs her nose. “Hey, pretty girl. You’re gonna take good care of my dumbass mate for me, right? Assuming my mother doesn’t kill him first?”

Lance comes running up, a bag over his shoulder. “Okay, lets go!”

“What’s in the bag?”

“I’ll tell you later; let’s go!” Lance vaults onto Bruna, turning expectantly to his dazed spouse. “Kee-eeith. Let’s gooo-oooo.”

“R- Right!” Keith mounts his own elk -nameless, because he’s not an enormous dork-, urging him into a walk. “So we’re really leaving, then?”

“Yes, we’re really leaving! I can’t wait to see it! I want to see everything, remember? Remember when I-”

“You’re going to talk the entire way there, aren’t you?”

“Wha- No! No, I’m not! But I just want to mention-”

Keith smiles, shaking his head. His mother’s glare still stings, but it’s hard to be angry when facing off against Lance’s smile. He doesn’t see his mate like this very often -hardly ever-, so he might as well enjoy it while he can.

He does have a question though, one that’s been nagging at him for the better part of a movement now…

#LoveAftertheFact #LAtF #klance #galtean au #altean lance #galra keith #adashi #altean adam #galra shiro #voltron legendary defender #vld

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janiedean · 5 years ago

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y'know, i can't help it, but i just imagined brienne going to her father excited and saying, papa, look, i've got a heart! and selwyn realizes that the heart ain't looking so well as far as hearts go, so he sits his daughter down and tells her how she has to take care of this heart. and brienne being all solemn, swearing that she'll take care of this heart.

.. you know what it I need to write something because I haven’t written anything in two weeks and I need to get back into it let’s see if we can make something out of this - this is the background explanation for… whatever this is

–

Brienne is five when it appears on her bed.

It’s the middle of the night, and she’s sleeping, but at some point the mattress becomes hot and she wakes up immediately, wondering what’s wrong with it -

And then she sees that at the bottom of her bed there’s something glowing.

Suddenly, the mattress’s heat doesn’t matter any more as she crawls out of the sheets and towards that light. For a moment it’s blinding, but then it lowers down a bit, and then some more, until it goes from white to a beautiful golden color -

And it beats.

It’s strange, because as it is it looks like a ball of light, large enough to fit in her cupped palms, but when she takes it, it pulses against her skin. It moves ever so slightly, in and out, in and out, and first it’s racing, beat after beat after beat, and then it becomes slower, more regular, and Brienne keeps on staring down at it in fascination, wondering what it could be -

And then it changes. The golden light stays, but as absurd as it seems, she starts seeing red cracks in it, not enough to break the entire thing apart but bleeding darker red light that merges with the golden hue on the outside. Brienne blinks, her thumb brushing over the surface of that pulsing gold, and then she understands at once what it is.

Oh.

She’s heard the whispers behind her back - she’s young, but she’s not deaf, and Septa Roelle did give her that harsh lesson about looking in the mirror.

Poor girl, with that face she’ll never get anyone’s heart.

How sad.

Hey, better for the other guy - who’d want to give their heart to someone so ugly?

She - she knows that when you’re meant to be with someone, really meant to be, sometimes their heart makes its way to you and you’ll only give it back to them when you meet. It’s in all the songs. But she never thought she’d get one.

And now -

She thinks she does have one. What else can it be, since it’s beating inside her palms?

She immediately gets out of the bed, feeling thankful for the umpteenth time that her father stayed home and didn’t go to war, just sent soldiers, and knocks at his door frantically until he opens it.

“Brienne, it’s the middle of the - what the -” He says as he looks down at her and at the golden light in between her palms.

“I - I was sleeping and then my bed turned so hot I had to wake up and that was - that just appeared out of nowhere. I - I have a heart!” She says, unable to contain the excitement, even if the moment she says it, she feels a wave of sadness come over her. She doesn’t know from where, but it makes her face fall just as she says it.

“Hey,” Father asks, “what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, uh, I just… felt really sad for a moment.”

“You know what,” he says, “get in.”

Brienne walks into his room and gets on the bed, still carefully holding the heart. She holds it out for Father to look at better, but she doesn’t let it go. His eyes narrow as he inspects it, and he mutters something under his breath as he sees the cracks. He touches it for a second and then retreats his hand at once.

“It’s… not burning to you, is it?”

“No,” Brienne says. “It’s warm. Oh.” The moment she says it, she feels sadder than before, tears coming to her eyes. “I don’t know what’s wrong,” she says as she wipes them with a hand, holding the heart with the other. “I’m not -”

“I think it’s not you,” Father says. “I think it’s the heart.”

“… How?”

He sighs. “I had your mother’s. And - I’m not, I mean, I’ve never seen that many, but hers was all bright. And light blue. And if I touched it I felt… either happy or, you know, worried, and I found out because we met at a ball at court and she wasn’t sure her father would accept my proposal. She told me later. And hers had stopped beating all the time I had it. Anyway, this one - isn’t looking too well.”

“It’s not?”

He shakes his head. “You see the cracks? The light is red. Unless it was red in the first place… it’s not normal.”

“Uh. When I got it first, it was racing. The beats, I mean.”

“Was it,” Father says. He looks back down at it, and that’s when he sees that the golden light dims a bit. It still stays there, though. There’s a bit more red now, but -

“I think,” Father finally says, “that whoever this belongs to, they - they aren’t doing very good right now. I mean, as far as hearts go, this looks… pretty battered. And I don’t like that it’s becoming redder by the moment.”

“But the golden light is so beautiful,” Brienne says. “It can’t belong to someone bad.”

“Oh, I can see that. I think it belongs to someone good. Someone who is really not doing well right now. And - it’s not my experience, but from what I know about hearts like this… well, you have to take really special care of it. I don’t know if it will make it better for sure… but you can’t just leave it there waiting for him to show up. You have to look after it.”

“I will,” Brienne says at once. “Of course I will. I swear it.”

“I knew you would,” her father smiles, and she sleeps there that night, keeping the heart curled against her chest.

–

Her septa tries to convince her to keep it at least on the nightstand, but when it becomes redder and redder in the next few days, Brienne refuses and puts her foot down. She brings it under the covers, her fingertips brushing over the golden-red light, noticing that the more she does it the more the red retreats a bit.

It’s always back the next morning, though, but as Father would say, there hasn’t been a moment in Brienne’s life when she wasn’t stubborn, and so she doesn’t give up on it.

–

The day she decides that she’d rather be a knight than a lady for good, because she’s done with people making fun of her whenever she shows up in dresses and she had already started seeing the appeal of a sword in her hands and the allure of being in songs singing of her brave deeds and not of her ugly face, it’s the day Ronnet Connington comes with his family for a visit on Tarth.

(Her father has never betrothed her and hasn’t tried - he knows she has the heart, and he said he would feel horrible promising her to anyone that’s not the owner. He also has seen that it’s been seven years and the red hasn’t retreated.)

She overhears him talking to someone, saying that no one would ever want her anyway, not when she looks like a sow in silk.

“You know,” she blurts, “I do have my intended’s heart. I just haven’t met him yet.” She probably shouldn’t have said it. But it just came out of her, hoping that it would shut him up.

“And I won’t believe it until I see it,” he sneers.

She goes back upstairs and takes it, and when he sees it he laughs.

“Oh, of course you got a broken one.”

“It’s not broken,” she protests.

“Please, it’s all red. Red hearts like that are broken and their owners are either useless or more effort than they’re worth. ‘Course you would get a broken one, who else would want you?”

“It’s not,” Brienne hisses, and at that he stops talking. She realizes her voice had turned cold. Very cold. A coldness that doesn’t belong to her, she’s never sounded like that, but it seems to come from the pulsing warmth in her hands, again - “and the day I find him you’ll see he’s not broken or damaged or unworthy. And I sure as the seven hells hope no one got saddled with yours.”

That shuts him up.

She smiles as she goes back upstairs. No one sees her, but if they had, they’d have thought her grin was sharper than usual.

When she goes back into the room, she places it back on the nightstand, caressing it.

“I’m going to become a knight,” she swears to it, seeing the red retreating ever so slightly, “and I’ll find you, and I’ll give this back to you, and I’ll make sure no one calls you broken to your face. That’s what knights do, don’t they?”

It pulses under her hands, still glowing.

It’s such a lovely shade of gold, Brienne thinks.

A really, really lovely shade.

#jaime x brienne #what the hell is this? idek #idk if i wanna do the entire fic but i'm apparently in the mood #if you want to see some specific scene just ask and we'll see?#iT'S HAPPENING IDk #otp: i dreamed of you #Anonymous #ask post #the heart fic thing #the heart thing fic

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dyns33 · 5 years ago

Text

Michael’s Moving Castle (3/3)

“A heart is a heavy burden.”

The next day Michael acted as if nothing had happened, and perhaps nothing has happened, but he also did not seem overwhelmed by their meeting with Miss Mead, who had attempted to kill them, after he refused her invitation and claimed that (Y/N) was his mother.

"I am not your mother !" she growled. "How could people believe that ?! You will never say such a horrible thing to anyone again !"

"It's a shame, you would be a very good mother. I think Miss Mead likes you. Otherwise she would have treated you like that dear Venable."

At the mention of the name of the Landes witch, there was a long silence in the castle, only broken by the breathing of Jeff and Mutt who were sleeping on the sofa, and the sound of the wood burning under Gallant. As a sorcerer, Michael could not ignore what had happened to Venable, he had even witnessed her punishment, and he knew very well that it was the fate that would befall him if he was caught by the royal guards . It was very scary for (Y/N), but it wasn't what troubled her the most.

"Miss Mead... told me that you might become like her. And Gallant told me that you know each other."

"What a tattletale this one !" he muttered. "Yes, I know her. I was very interested in her a long time ago. She fascinated me, with her power, her confidence, her coldness. I wanted to be like her, so I left the kingdom to join her, hoping she would teach me new spells, but... When I finally approached her closely, I saw how horribly ugly she was and I ran away."

(Y/N) rolled her eyes, sighing. Men, really, all the same. It was normal that the Landes witch would be so upset if she fell in love with Michael and that he treated her like that, in an even worse way than all the other young girls. It was possible to think that a woman was ugly, but it was completely despicable to tell her.

"Besides, she is not that ugly." grumbled (Y/N), shrugging. "Maybe a little old and tired, but there's no reason to run away from her because of that."

Her remark was hilarious for Michael, who laughed to tears, which annoyed her a little, because she did not know if he was making fun of her too great kindness, or her age. He seemed to notice, and he put his hand on hers.

"I don't think we are talking about the same form of beauty. I don't judge her at all on her age, it has nothing to do with beauty."

"Hmm. Of course."

"Don't you believe me ? Yet you are old and you are very beautiful (Y/N)."

Having absolutely no desire to have this conversation, she apologized, saying that she had work to do, running upstairs to lock herself in the bathroom, to clean everything, without touching the products of Michael. She stayed there for several hours, scrubbing the tub over and over again, even if it was absolutely not necessary. It wasn't because she thought the wizard was making fun of her saying she was beautiful, he seemed really sincere, but she didn't like the feeling of warmth in her cheeks and stomach when he said this kind of things. Although for several days he had had no date, Michael was known to only love beautiful young girls and so she must not forget that she had no chance with him. It didn't matter, she would still help him. She would find a way to break the pact he had made with Gallant and they would all split up. It was late when she dared to leave the bathroom, the castle was calm and she slipped into the living room, to chat with the demon, hoping to get a new clue, but Michael entered at the same time, delighted to see her.

"Ah, you've finally come out of your hiding place !" he laughed, taking her hand. "Come on, I want to show you something."

Outside it was not the mountain, it was not a city either, they had arrived in a valley filled with red roses, near a small lake, and the castle had become a house, which looked a bit like a mansion, in the middle of this little paradise.

"It is the house of my childhood. My grandmother raised me here, she allowed me to discover the magic here, she... died here. But I lived only good times in this place. This is my secret garden, where I come when I am afraid or when I doubt it. It is yours now."

"Mine ?" asked (Y/N), touching her pulsating heart, because of the beauty of the place, but also of the offer.

"Yes. You remind me a lot of my grandmother."

"... because I'm old."

"Haha. Not at all ! She was strong, courageous, superb. She protected me, from the world, but also from myself, knowing when to say no or punish me, when all the others were too seduced by my sweet face to refuse me anything. I had a lot of admiration for her, because even if she was not perfect, she really tried to do good, to do her best. It was complicated to understand her sometimes. People often thought that she was very selfish, wanting to seem happy, with a big family, that she didn't always treat very well. In the end, she only had me, and I can tell you, even if it's true that she was careful about what people thought, it was not to have a good reputation that she was taking care of me. Nobody knew that she was taking care of me in fact. Without her, I do not know what would have happened to me. It's the same with you. You didn't come to me without an idea in the back of your head, but you stayed for something else, and you proved to me that..."

The bomb exploded near them, but not enough to injure them. Immediately, Michael stood in front of her, to protect her from the flames and projectiles, glancing hatefully at the planes that appeared from behind the clouds, preparing for another launch. Cowards. The wizard lifted (Y/N) to run towards the house, ordering her to enter, to close the door and to tell Gallant to move the castle as far as possible from the city, to hide in the mountains.

"And you ?!" cried (Y/N), refusing to let him go. "Where are you going ? What are you going to do ? Why don't you come with me ?"

"I have to stop them. Stay in the castle !"

With his magic, he forced her to let go of his hand and he made her fly to the door, which closed behind her, before she could shout his name.

_______________________

"It's not good. Not good at all."

While obeying Michael's orders, moving the castle, Gallant kept looking at the door, praying that the wizard would come back. He had never looked so worried during his absences, and (Y/N) shared his fears, even if she tried to stay positive.

"He's strong, right ? You told me so, he's as powerful as the Landes witch, he could even beat her, so against simple machines, he should win."

"This is not what scares me." sighed the demon. "The more he uses his powers, the less Michael is human. I feel that the end is approaching, much faster than I would have expected. You have to hurry, (Y/N), or else he will be lost forever !"

"He will die ?!"

"Worse ! He will become a monster. His soul will be blacker than soot, he will have no pity for anything or anyone, becoming a completely empty being and taking whatever he wants without worrying about others. Then his darkness will consume him from the inside, he will rot and at that moment, he will die..."

It was terrible and (Y/N) refused to let it happen, so she ordered Gallant to turn around to get closer to the fighting, to find Michael and help him. She shook Jeff and Mutt to force them to wake up.

"It is time for you to be useful ! Prepare potions, weapons, formulas, anything that can be used to defend us ! Now !"

"Uh, yes granny And what are you going to do ?"

"I'm going to decipher this damn poem !"

(Y/N) rushed into the wizard's room to tear the page from the wall, coming to settle near the fire to see all the words, because of her poor eyesight. It still didn't make sense to her, other than the fact that she would have to find something Michael had given Gallant to give it back to him. If she was the love of her life, of course.

"I guess you can't tell me what he gave you."

"No. But... Everyone knows he's looking for that."

"What ? What do you mean ?! Gallant, be clearer !"

"I can not !" grumbled the demon.

Something Michael was looking for, something that people knew he was looking for... It really wasn't easy, since even if there were a lot of rumours about him, hardly anyone had ever met the wizard What was he looking for according to legends ? Troubles ? Conflicts ? He was really good at finding them. Girls ? He was finding them too, even if he lost interest easily, broking their...

"The poem says that he is... It would be literal ? He would have given you his..."

(Y/N) then looked more closely at Gallant and, in the middle of the fire and the logs, she saw a little moving thing, which she had not seen before, too busy chatting with the demon or looking at Michael.

"His heart... He does not seek to take the hearts of girls, he seeks the one who can give him back his own !"

"I like it when you say smart things little woman. Yes, it is his heart, which he cannot take back. And even if you can, it would not be easy..."

"It's never easy. Tell me." she sighed.

"It will be painful. Very painful. Even if I want to give it to you, pacts are still difficult to break. You risk being burned a bit, but if you're ready to suffer for this idiot, then..."

"I will do it !"

In a surge of kindness, because even if they spoke little to her, they were attached to her, Jeff and Mutt tried to stop her, but (Y/N) plunged her hands into the fire, crying in pain as the flames completely surrounded her, but she refused to give up, gently catching the heart to not damage it, before placing it against her chest and backing away, out of breath and crying.

"You succeed !"

There was no longer any fire in the fireplace, so she looked for the origin of Gallant's voice, whose face appeared in her hands, in a small blue flame around the heart that did not hurt her. He seemed happy, surprised and a little frightened, not knowing what was going to happen next.

"We have to find Michael. We have to go to the battlefield."

The demon obeyed, even if it went against his master's orders, causing the soldiers to panic because of the moving castle that wandered in the middle of the battle, while Jeff and Mutt threw bombs and potions at them from the windows. After almost an hour of hell, there was no more noise, no more movement, only death and they went out slowly, to look for Michael. As soon as she was outside, the castle collapsed.

"Ah, I forgot." muttered Gallant. "Without me, the castle cannot remain standing."

"Regardless, it was already a moving ruin."

In the middle of a crater, Michael was lying on the ground, unconscious, pale, the blood flowing from his wounds was black and he did not react when (Y/N) shook him. She looked at Gallant.

"Will it save him if I give his heart back to him ? Will he live ?"

"Yes little woman."

"And... What about you ?" she asked in a trembling voice.

"I don't know. There is a good chance that I will die, but I'm ready. It's better than being a slave. Don't worry, do what you have to do."

Even if she wanted more than anything to help Michael, and the demon asked her to release him, (Y/N) didn't want him to die, so kissing Gallant's little face, she asked for him to live for a thousand years before placing his heart on Michael's chest. A great light lit up the sky and the earth, an immense fire rose from the body of the sorcerer and Gallant cried with joy as he flew towards the stars, where he came from. Slowly, Michael then opened his eyes, his beautiful blue eyes, before wincing as he coughed.

"My chest hurts so bad." he groaned.

"It's normal. A heart is a heavy burden."

"Oh ! (Y/N) !"

He tenderly stroked her face, and suddenly she felt embarrassed, again. Gallant was gone, the castle was in ruins, Michael was saved, there was nothing left... It was time for her to go back home, to return to her sister, who would take care of her with her husband until she was too old and die.

"But what are you talking about ?!" cried the sorcerer. "Leave ? You want to leave ?"

"It's not that I want it, but I have to. The poem was wrong, because... I am not a young and pretty girl. I am not the one you are looking for, you know that. You helped me but you didn't try to get me, because unlike the others, I'm ugly. And now that I'm a grandmother, it's..."

To silence her, Michael kissed her, before taking her hands to do the same thing with each of her fingers, until she realized that they were no longer wrinkled, that she didn’t had no back pain at all, that she was breathing better, and then she touched her face, understanding that she was no longer cursed. By flying away, Gallant must have kept his promise, even if he was a demon.

"Okay, no one can believe I am your mother anymore, but I am still..."

"Magnificent." said Michael with lights in his eyes. "You are beautiful, I already told you. I felt it was you. I knew it as soon as I saw you, annoyed by this stupid soldier."

"But you left..."

"Yes, because I was scared. I was really excited, but I didn't want to be wrong, I didn't want to make a bad impression, I really wanted to please you, so I went back to the castle to find a way to seduce you properly. It was silly to leave you unprotected, that's how Venable bewitched you."

"You knew !"

"Of course, it was obvious. But when I arrived, you had already made a deal with Gallant and there was nothing I could do about it. This little deceiver, he knew my feelings for you and he used them to free himself. Manipulating us... But it was probably the best thing to do. Without it, maybe we couldn't have been together."

When he wanted to kiss her again, a light came flying near them and a well known voice sang.

"Little woman, you can find better than this idiot."

"Why did you come back, demon ?" growled Michael.

"I'm bored all alone up there..."

Thanked to the intervention of the sorcerer Langdon, whom the royal palace thanked for his help, the war was officially over. Since he had lost most of his powers, he was no longer interesting enough for Jeff and Mutt, who went to work for Miss Mead, who had kept the Landes witch in the palace, to watch over her and take care of her suitably. No one ever saw the moving castle in the mountains, and no one thought of looking up to see through the clouds. There, hidden, a beautiful soul lived in a floating thing, with a slightly annoying sorcerer, but who was very in love, under the amused gaze of a fire demon, installed in their fireplace.

#american horror story apocalyspe #howl's moving castle #michael langdon #michael langdon fanfiction #michael langdon imagine #michael langdon x reader

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jeanandthedreamofhorses · 6 years ago

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You're into ASOIAF too? Oh wow. You certainly made the right call dropping this shitshow -and yeah, looking back, I didn't think it possible to have a worse season than S5 but hooo boy, was I wrong-. Knowing its abomination of an ending now, I'm trying hard not to let it ruin the books for me, too, so take this as a cautionary tale, lol. And bc some positivity would be nice and I do always enjoy reading your opinions, if it's okay, could I ask you about your fave ASOIAF characters and such? thx!

Frick yeah, the question I’ve been waiting for! I can gush about pretty much every character since they’re all so amazingly well written, but for a brief list of the top contenders… (TWOW spoilers ahead!)

5. Asha Greyjoy

“If there are rocks to starboard and a storm to port, a wise captain steers a third course.”

Irreverent, cynical, mocking, confident and dangerous, what’s not to love about Asha? She immediately made an impact with such scenes as her “sweet suckling babe” quip and was one of my favourite side characters in ACOK.

AFFC, however, was when she really got to shine, where to my elation she got a POV chapter, and more in ADWD. Despite her seemingly Ironborn-to-the-core personality, we discover she’s actually one of the least zealous of the Ironborn, sympathetic to the New Ways and those influenced by the culture of the ‘greenlanders’ like Rodrik the Reader. As one of the few reading Ironborn, she’s clearly one of the most intelligent of the Ironborn and certainly more open-minded, which leads to her down-to-earth sales pitch for the Kingsmoot, a sensible, realistic policy which would be genuinely best for her people - while still, of course, maintaining some elements of conquest: she is the kraken’s daughter, after all.

This side to her personality that sympathises with the fringe elements of her society and is able to make realistic assessments of the possibilities of success comes largely from the difficult position of being a prominent woman in the hypermasculine, heavily patriarchal Ironborn culture. Being raised as Balon’s substitute son has landed her more freedom than most Iron women, but in a complicated position nonetheless. She manages to handle it to the best of her ability, however with Balon gone she comes to realise just how precarious her position always was.

Now, like many other characters in ADWD, she is dealing with the hardship of broken dreams. Disaster piles upon disaster for Asha, from the failed kingsmoot to the loss of Deepwood Motte to becoming captive to Stannis (a dynamic I can’t wait to see more of btw, what an interesting clash of personalities!). Like Tyrion, her bravado serves to mask her insecurity, and her sense of powerlessness from recent events - both in commanding her own destiny and the heartache from the ruinous state of her family - really comes out in her inner monologue during ADWD.

How fitting, then, that this is when she reunites with Theon, another character whose lofty ambitions were torn brutally to the ground. Asha lorded it over him in Winterfell, but perhaps now she can relate. Mock as she may, Asha genuinely loves her family, and it’s another appealing aspect of this lonely character navigating her way through her unusual existence on the tightrope of social norms.

4. Tyrion Lannister

“You poor stupid blind crippled fool. Must I spell out every little thing for you? Very well. Cersei is a lying whore, she’s been fucking Lancel and Osmund Kettleblack and probably Moon Boy for all I know. And I am the monster they all say I am. Yes, I killed your vile son.”

Everyone loves Tyrion, and how can they not? He’s one of the wittiest and most intelligent characters in the series, and the first stumbling block when it comes to which side we should root for. While he was always one of my favourite characters from the start, factoring in his complex family life and struggles on account of his dwarfism (and later the maiming of his already ugly face), my favourite part of Tyrion as a character is how all the things we love about him are flipped on their head in ADWD.

Tyrion tells us in AGOT to wear your shame like “armor and it can never be used to hurt you”. It’s an empowering statement, but throughout ASOS we see how insecure Tyrion still is inside, and his ignoble treatment at the hands of his father and the people as a whole in the kangaroo court for Joffrey’s murder, can, ultimately, be boiled down to his being a dwarf. His armour fails him, and he is still utterly unable to be loved, appreciated, or respected by anyone. Only by Tysha, as he finds out, who is now lost to him - ripped from his hands by the machinations of his father and the one family member that Tyrion still loved, his brother.

It’s at this point that Tyrion is never the same again. He murders Shae in cold blood, and he murders his father, and he regrets none of it. He is becoming the monster they said he was.

When we see him in ADWD, the dark side of Tyrion that had always been hidden behind the hope he had clung onto creeps all too shockingly for the surface. His jokes are now too cynical to laugh at, dark and disturbing and cruel. He uses his intellect for no greater good beyond his own personal amusement, deliberately influencing Young Griff to attack Westeros prematurely just in the hopes that his sister might get the axe. He is on no side but his own, acting brazenly irresponsibly as he has no interest in the grand schemes others have set out for him, or even in his own life. The chips on his shoulder are now genuine murderous intent, daydreaming about raping and killing Cersei and mounting Jaime’s head on a spike next to her. Where Tyrion’s whoring habits had seemed roguish and humorous before, in Essos he is depicted raping clearly reluctant sex slaves.

What makes this all the more disturbing, and all the more literarily brilliant, is that it casts aside the biased curtain we had seen Tyrion through before, and the result is shocking. How much more free to consent is a Westerosi prostitute than a Pentoshi sex slave? How worthwhile were the barbed comments he made so frequently when they ultimately led to a litany of testimonies against him as soon as he lost his privileged position? The worse devils of Tyrion’s nature come out in full force, and we see much more of the black of the character Martin described as “the grayest of the gray”. Perhaps the difference now is that Tyrion’s POV lacks a single element of self-love. The readers are repulsed by him in the same way he repulses himself.

Nonetheless, Tyrion seems to be rekindling something of a purpose in ADWD, as characters nurture themselves back up from the wreckage in the aftermath of the War of the Five Kings. He has lost the Lannister’s golden influence, but his silver tongue still serves him well. However, we may never see the old Tyrion again. This Tyrion has not repented for the vile things he has done, or the vile things he intends to do. He was caricatured by the citizens of King’s Landing as an evil advisor whispering into the monarch’s ear - this may become something closer to the truth when he at last meets with Daenerys.

3. Jaime Lannister

“Does my lord wish to answer?” The maester asked, after a long silence. A snowflake landed on the letter. As it melted, the ink began to blur. Jaime rolled the parchment up again, as tight as one hand would allow, and handed it to Peck. “No,” he said. “Put this in the fire.”

Who saw a Jaime POV coming? What an incredible way to open ASOS after the prologue, to see things from the eyes of one of the series’ most notorious villains. I don’t think I need to explain at length how impactful it was to gently peel off the layers of Jaime’s character, revealing the true reason he killed Aerys, his growth in his interactions with Brienne, the embodiment of the chivalric values he abandoned, and most significantly, losing the hand that was his entire identity and vanity. Anyone who has read the book or watched the show can relate.

Since then, he continues to fascinate. He is discovering talents beyond swordsmanship, entering into a negotiation even Tywin could have been proud of. He has learned how to use his bad reputation for nobler ends, scaring Edmure Tully silly enough to end the siege of Riverrun without shedding a single drop of blood. He is still fighting for a Lannister king, true, but that is only staying true to his role as Kingsguard: now that he has lost his sword hand, he is discovering what it means to be a knight again, in an unconventional and thrilling way.

I chose the above quote because it captures the beauty of AFFC Jaime, breaking away from the sister he fought so hard to return to and decisively cutting out her influence for good. In Jaime’s reverse knight’s fable, refusing the call of the damsel in distress is one of the most upright things he has ever done. How fitting that he should then meet up with the woman who influenced him to take the other path - only she seems about to betray him, too…

It will be so interesting to see Stoneheart’s perverted justice on a character whose head we once wanted on a chopping block but now want to survive at all costs. I don’t think Brienne will be able to follow through with it to the end. After all, Jaime must live on to fulfil a certain prophecy…

2. Euron Greyjoy

“The bleeding star bespoke the end,” he said to Aeron. “These are the last days, when the world shall be broken and remade. A new god shall be born from the graves and charnel pits.”

It’s common enough to hear writers and critics talk about how your villain can’t simply be evil, and that they need to have sympathetic motivations or else they’re badly written. I think that’s true sometimes, but only when your evil villains fail to capture the raw horror of what evil really is - that’s when they feel wooden or cartoonish. To successfully capture that heart of darkness, however…

That is what George R.R. Martin achieved with Euron Greyjoy, the most terrifying character I have ever read.

Everyone underestimates Euron. They know he’s mad, but they don’t know how mad he is. They think they can outmanoeuvre him, like Asha, or betray him, like Victarion. They think he’s lying when he says he’s sailed to Valyria and means to conquer Westeros with dragons. Only Aeron knew. Only Aeron knew the depths of Euron’s depravity, and how far he means to fly. Because he’s the only one who heard the scream of the rusted iron hinge.

The Forsaken showed that it was all true, that Aeron was right all along - that he, like the oracle Cassandra, warned the Ironborn but was condemned to be ignored. Euron has an ambition unparalleled by any other character in the series - he means to turn himself into a god. He’s the only one depraved enough to go to the lengths it would take to make that dream a reality.

We should fear Euron, we should fear him very much. And yet, I think his dreams of godhood can never fully come to pass. He is, after all, still a man - still fallible, as we saw him shrink away at the Reader’s reprimand in The Reaver and change his tactics accordingly. His humanity will be the death of him - not any goodness in his heart, but a weakness common to the human creature. The dragons he means to dance with, and potentially the Others too as some theories go, will move at a pace beyond those mortal legs.

His attempt to fly will inevitably end with a fall. But that headfirst plunge will take the Seven Kingdoms with him.

1. Stannis Baratheon

“I know the cost! Last night, gazing into that hearth, I saw things in the flames as well. I saw a king, a crown of fire on his brows, burning… burning, Davos. His own crown consumed his flesh and turned him into ash. Do you think I need Melisandre to tell me what that means? Or you?“

Here is a man so totally dedicated to his duty that he is willing to do whatever it takes to accomplish it, even if it means his own destruction.

He is a character that believes in justice and the word of law more strongly than any other, and watching his dogged persistence to put a corrupt world to rights no matter the odds has always struck a chord with me, especially in this world teeming with such selfish and barbarous characters.

He is not such a performer as other characters, not as openly humorous as Tyrion (though lowkey he has an incredible dry wit), nor as pretty as Renly, nor as lighthearted as Littlefinger. He’s a dour person, hard and unpopular. But if you listen to the conversations he has with Davos, there is an incredible heart to this man who has placed all the troubles of the world on his own shoulders, and strives through cold and stormy weather to make the best, most just decision he can for no other reason than that - because it is just. Justice is hard, sharp and unyielding, not pretty, not humorous, not lighthearted - but necessary. In a king more than anywhere else. That’s why those who do follow Stannis, like Davos, follow him with such faith and loyalty.

He often proceeds about this goal in questionable ways, compensating for the imperfections of his forces and of his own personality. This is the rickety bridge Stannis walks on, as a man who will go to any means necessary to accomplish what he feels must be done. Sometimes this might mean unleashing dark forces better left locked up, sometimes it might mean committing so terrible a sin as kinslaying, sometimes it might mean sacrificing a child to awaken stone dragons - and sometimes it will mean rescuing the realm from a wildling incursion when no other king cared.

Moments like that unforgettable “STANNIS! STANNIS! STANNIS” stick so powerfully in my memory because, much like Jaime, the real virtue of this character had yet to shine so brightly as it eventually would in ASOS. Something which had always been there takes us unawares. And he is evolving, too, ever becoming more flexible, more willing to compromise, more hesitant to burnings, more dedicated to the good of the realm over himself.

And there is a whole other layer of tragic pathos that lies behind his character. Try as hard as Stannis might, and God does he try, he is not Azor Ahai, and every reader knows he will not sit the throne at the end. Even Stannis knows where this road will leave him. But he persists anyway, in the face of death. The courage of that, the self-sacrifice - how can one not be moved by it?

One of the finer points of Stannis that often goes missed in (understandably) overzealous attempts to correct the show’s butchering of his character, is that there is a part of him that does want to be king. He’s lived in Robert’s shadow his entire life, as Asha thinks to herself in ADWD, and there is a part of him that does yearn for recognition. Quotes like “Robert could piss in a cup and men would call it wine, but I offer them cold clear water and they squint in suspicion and mutter to each other about how queer it tastes.” reveal that, I think.

So this is a whole other internal battle within Stannis - he must be careful not to allow his judgement to falter against the part of him that is jealous of Robert, of Renly, that wants to be the hero Melisandre says he is. This very human aspect complicates further the already complicated war between deontological and utilitarian ethics that wages in his head, with Davos and Melisandre as their respective spokesmen. Much as he may want to be a perfect king and avatar of justice - he is still human.

The depth and tragedy of Stannis Baratheon is Shakespearean. My heart shatters in advance for the moment Stannis has made his greatest sacrifice of all to halt the advance of the Others (not the Boltons, he’ll flatten them like pancakes), and for it to do nothing, nothing at all. For him to realise he was never the hero of this story, and that now he has gathered all this blood on his hands where there is no spring to wash them in.

A man so just as Stannis could never forgive himself. But we, the readers, shall never forget the battles he fought as an axle of this universe striving to be something greater.

Honourable Mentions to Aeron, Victarion, Barristan, Jon (Snow and Connington), Cersei and Brienne. Yes, I really like the Greyjoys 🦑.

#asoiaf #asoiaf meta #stannis baratheon #euron greyjoy #jaime lannister #tyrion lannister #asha greyjoy #not snk

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littleshebear · 6 years ago

Note

70: “After everything we’ve been through, you still don’t think that I love you?” Saladin/Jolder

It’s official. I can’t drabble. This also turned into a fic. Mushy slices of life in the development of Saladin and Jolder’s relationship, with bonus bemused Radegast and Perun.

The First Time.

The first time she sees him, there’s a battle in full swing outside the compound. It frightens her to imagine who would be mad enough to attack this warlord head-on but the opportunity to escape is too good to pass up. She charges through the hallways, trying to remember the route they’d taken when they locked her up down here. That shoulder charge she’d made into a locked, solid oak door had hurt and she didn’t have her ghost to heal her. No matter. She could still run and she’s fast. This time, she’ll be fast enough to get away. She rounds a corner and nearly runs into him. They pause, her wild, green eyes staring into his curious dark ones. She reacts first, smashing her fist into his nose. She doesn’t wait to see if her punch was strong enough to have driven his skull into his brain. She helps herself to his side-arm, trips over his prone form and carries on running.

She darts from room to room, frantic, searching for what was stolen from her when the warlord took her prisoner. “It’s okay, I’m coming, it’s okay, it’s okay,” she repeats over and over, like a mantra. If she says it often enough, it will become true. She turns away from another fruitless search through a storeroom and he’s there, waiting in the doorway. There isn’t a mark on his face. Another lightbearer.

“Easy,” he raises his hands when she levels his stolen side-arm at him.

“I don’t know who you people are or why you have an issue with Lord Whatshisname, but I’ve got no quarrel with you.” She motions for him to step aside with the barrel of the gun. “Please stay out of my way.”

“Were you captive here?”

She nods, brushing matted red hair away from her face with her free hand.

He slowly, gingerly offers her a hand. “Come with us. You’ll be safe.”

She shakes her head. “Nuh-uh. I’m not going with another warlord. No way.”

“We’re not warlords. We’re different. Besides…” He lets his hands drop to his sides. “You’re not going to shoot me.”

“And how do you know that?” She raises her chin, doing her best to seem implacable. Defiant.

“Because that gun isn’t loaded.”

Her eyes dart toward the gun and suppresses a sigh as she realises that the chamber is indeed empty.

He proffers his hand again. “Come with me.”

“I can’t. They took my ghost.” She swallows hard. “I don’t know where they took him. It’s dark where he is, he’s scared.”

“I’ll help you find your ghost, then we can get out of here.”

“Will I have to fight?” She keeps the gun trained on him but the barrel droops slightly.

“Only if you choose to.”

She finally lowers the gun. “I’m Jolder,” she states, some of the tremor leaving her voice.

“Saladin Forge.”

When she eventually places her hand in his, it feels like safety.

The first time he sees her smile is only a few minutes after their first meeting. Saladin had caught a guard, held him up against a wall and asked what had become of Jolder’s Ghost. When he refused to divulge the location, Saladin made a noise in his throat that could only be described as a growl and switched to a far less polite line of questioning. He soon gave directions to the location of Jolder’s Ghost. Saladin disarmed the hapless mortal and sent him on his way with what Saladin probably thought was a light clip on the back of the head but was possibly concussion-inducing for him.

Jolder kneels on the floor in front of the lock box that she had just broken her Ghost out of. She cradles her ghost in both hands, assuring him that everything will be alright from now on. She looks to Saladin for confirmation. She breaks into a brilliant grin, happy, grateful tears forming track marks in the grime on her face.

To Saladin, it’s a sight of transformative beauty in an otherwise ugly world and he’ll remember it forever.

The first time she catches herself staring, she’s seated outside his workshop. He picked out some pieces of armour for her and she’s supposed to be adjusting it to her size, polishing, customising. She instead finds herself fascinated by watching Saladin work on a field-forged machine gun. She’s engrossed with how engrossed he is. There’s something so compelling about a man consumed with his work. She watches thick fingers, that have no right to be as delicate and dextrous as they, are build, scrap and rebuild until he’s satisfied. She then finds herself marvelling at how the sun highlights the grey scattered through his black hair, how his eye colour shifts like tiger’s eye depending on how the light strikes them.

He finally looks up from his work and asks how she’s getting on with her own project. She drops her gaze to the pauldron she’s fitting a buckle to and assures him that everything is indeed fine, praying that he cannot discern the blush in her cheeks.

The first time she catches him staring, she’s taking a break from running combat drills with Perun. She sits on the wall of their current hideout, kicking her feet over the edge. She seems so relaxed, you would be forgiven for thinking they weren’t a small group of Lightbearers effecting a revolution against the Warlord hegemony.

She takes a swig from a canteen, tips her head back and closes her eyes in bliss. Saladin nearly drops the sketching charcoal clutched between his fingers but rallies when she turns her gaze towards him. She realises his worst fears when she hops down off the wall and walks towards him.

“What are you working on?” She asks, hooking the canteen to her belt.

“Just…” He leafs frantically through his sketchbook, “I had some ideas.”

Jolder takes the sketchbook from him, “Uniforms?” She grins at him. “Are you designing us uniforms?”

“Not uniforms,” he explains, pointing to the sketches she has the book open at, “Just shared heraldry? If we become established I feel like we should have an…”

“Aesthetic?” Jolder fills in.

“A philosophy.” Saladin corrects her. “Our detractors call us the Iron Wolves. I don’t see that as an insult, so I say we adopt it. Wolves are social animals. They take care of their pack, they look out for one another. Like we do.”

“And the trees?” Jolder asks, gliding her fingers down another sketch, cocking her head in interest.

Saladin shrugs. “Roots. I feel like this will go way beyond what we’ve sown here.”

Jolder nods in approval and leafs through the rest of the designs. “These are amazing. Have you shown them to Radagast? He’d love them.” She keeps leafing through once she hits blank pages, despite the tension in Saladin’s demeanour when she does so. She eventually hits pages that are decidedly not blank. She pauses to see what Saladin has drawn there. She sees herself looking out at her. Herself, sitting on their own boundary wall. Studies of her hands, her face, her eyes especially. She stops still, taking in the image of herself rendered many times over in charcoal.

He snatches the book back from her, and stalks back towards his quarters with the sketchbook clutched to his chest.

The first time they spar, they do not hold back. Both have budding black eyes, they have bloody noses but they smile through their injuries. These are lightbearer drills, they don’t abide by the usual rules. Saladin locks his ankle behind hers and Jolder tumbles towards the ground, laughing as she goes. By any metric, she’s lost, she’s pinned by him. He waits for her to yield. She threads her fingers through his and smirks seductively at him, very much aware how heavily they’re both breathing. He falls for her flirtatious gambit hook, line and sinker. Once she senses him relax, she brings her leg up between his and ignores his yelp of pain as she strikes his crotch. She flips hims beneath her and laughs uproariously when Radegast calls the match.

The first time she kisses him, it’s a surprise to them both. The battle had been hard, they had died death after death driving the Fallen back but their ranks finally broke. Saladin leans forward, bracing his hands against his knees. He allows himself a smile, his one concession to triumphalism in the wake of victory.

Jolder is far more effusive. She charges towards him, crying, “We won!” She launches into a play by play of the day’s events, gesticulating wildly about strategies that they’d pulled off, how they’d known what the other was planning without having to speak, how their combat was more like dancing, as they knew each other’s steps. Her enthusiastic recounting of the battle finally elicits a laugh from him and she responds by grabbing his head in both hands and pulling him towards her. She plants a kiss fully on his lips. When she finally releases him, he stares back at her in a daze. She holds his gaze for an uncomfortable beat before excusing herself, mumbling something about checking on the mortal conscripts from the village they were defending.

From the ridge above, Radegast and Perun convene. “The East flank held,” Radegast states tiredly, but not without pride.

“Did you doubt it?”

“No,” He stretches, his overworked joints and muscles creaking as he did so. “But I understand the odds you were up against. You fought well.”

“The villagers fought, I just told them were to stand.” She takes a swing from her canteen before upending the remainder over her head, rubbing the worst of the battle grime from her close-cropped hair.

“Don’t sell yourself short,” he tails off, observing the scene below and shaking his head in wry amusement.

“What is it?” Perun follows his gaze then chuckles. “Oh. Those two. Besotted.”

“Completely.”

“Clueless.”

“Utterly.”

“How long do you think they’ll carry on dancing around each other?” asks Perun, watching Saladin wander around in confused little circles as he tries to decide what to do following Jolder’s spontaneous display of affection.

“It’ll be some time next year if the consensus in Efrideet’s betting pool is anything to go by.”

“Efrideet’s what?” Perun snorts in amusement at their latest recruit’s antics. “That girl. She’s playing with fire.”

“They’ll probably see the funny side,” Radegast muses.

“Jolder will see the funny side. Saladin will eviscerate her when he finds out.”

Radegast chuckles, “They’re a strange pair, it’s true.”

“They’re good for one another. They balance each other out. They’ll figure it out.” Perun pauses, coming to a decision. “Put me down for twenty glimmer. I reckon they’ll get it together by the first snow this year.

“That soon?”

“Eh,” she shrugs, “I’m rooting for them.”

The first time they make love is well after winter’s bite set in, long after Perun lost her stake in the betting pool. His touch is as reverential and hesitant, as though he’s afraid that this was all some misunderstanding and it could be called off at any moment.

His doubts are put paid to when she announces her climax by calling his name, allows him to flip her beneath him and Traveler help him, she’s digging her nails into his back.

In the peace of the afterglow, he lies on his back, Jolder’s head nestled in the hollow of his shoulder. She absently traces her fingers back and forth along his chest. Saladin stares at the ceiling, part of him not quite believing that what just happened did in fact happen.

“The others are probably wondering where we got to.”

Jolder chuckles, remembering Efrideet’s pool. “They’re really not.”

The first time he raises his voice at her in anger is the last. He’s tired, the last battle with the Fallen was exhausting and demoralising. The town he was defending could not be saved, an evacuation was the best he could muster. Jolder approaches, cognisant of his scowl but determined to lift his mood.

“You got them out, that’s great!” Saladin cringes at the contrast between the bereft villagers and Jolder’s encouraging smiles.

“Not all of them,” he grunts in response, walking past her.

“Saladin,” she insists to his turned back. “All of these people are alive because of you. You should be proud.”

Logically, she know she’s right. He knows today is a net gain but he’s seen so much anguish, so much grief today that he doesn’t have the energy for Jolder’s relentless positivity.

“We saved these ones, yes, but how many did we lose?” He thunders, rounding on her. “Do you even know? Not everything is for the best, Jolder, not every cloud has a silver lining!”

She flinches as if struck by a physical blow. “I’ll make sure they all get a hot meal, don’t worry.” She turns away from him. “I’ll see you later.”

Saladin spends the remainder of the day dealing with the fall out from the battle, writing field reports, organising refugee housing, all with the cold creep of guilt worming its way up his spine. Once the day’s work is done, he turns to the task of working up the courage to knock on her door. When she calls him in, she doesn’t seem angry. He would have preferred that. She’s seated on her couch, her knees drawn up to her chest. She sports an expression of worry that he doesn’t feel he deserves.

“I’m sorry,” he says in a defeated whisper.

“You’re too hard on yourself. You did a good thing today, I just wanted you to see that.”

“I know. I had no call to speak to you like that.”

She stares at him for an excruciating moment, those normally vivacious green eyes wide and sad. The tension finally breaks when she holds her hand to him, clenching and unclenching her fingers in a beckoning motion. He puts his hand in hers and kneels before her in contrition. She doesn’t have the patience for this knightly performance so she pulls him into her arms.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats, not sure if it’s for his benefit or hers.

“It’s okay,” she assures him, trailing her fingers through his dark curls.

“No, it is not,” he mumbles into her shoulder.

“You care, that’s all,” she assures him, dropping a kiss on his head for emphasis. “I wouldn’t love you so much if you didn’t.”

“I have bad days sometimes,” he tightens his arms around her. He can’t remember the last time he allowed himself to be this vulnerable around someone else. It definitely hasn’t happened in this life before. “I should never have taken it out on you.”

“You have as many bad days as you want,” she pulls back to rest her brow against his, cradling his head in her hands. “I’ll ride them out with you.”

Saladin waits for Jolder at the base of the ship’s gangplank. He scowls up at the castle before them, telling himself that his black mood is down to the warlord who challenged them. When Jolder emerges his breath stops momentarily. The shine of her armour, the way she hefts her battle-axe, the confidence in her gait, the impeccably applied “warpaint.” He never tires of the sight. She halts beside him and fixes him with an interrogatory stare.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he demurs. She cocks her head, sceptical and unimpressed. They’ve been friends, comrades in arms and lovers for decades now. His taciturn protestations don’t work on her anymore. He opens his mouth to speak, flounders, then again. His third attempt succeeds. “I volunteered to be your second.”

“You did.”

“You chose Efrideet.”

“I did.” She allows him a window of silence to give him a chance to explain his bad mood but he doesn’t avail himself of the opportunity. “Perun advised in favour of Efrideet.” She receives a grunt in response. “She worries that you can get too emotional.”

“I’m not emotional!” he snaps, before immediately clamping his mouth shut in embarrassment. Jolder shoots him an indulgent smile, that look of patient benevolence that never fails to break through his irritable facade.

“Talk to me, tell me what’s wrong.”

“I thought,” he falters, “I assumed…” He finally settles on, “We’re a team.”

“We are,” she assures him, laying a comforting hand on his shoulder, “But this isn’t about us. This is about stopping Rience.” She leans her axe against the ship and frames his face in her hands. “Saladin. After everything we’ve been through, you still don’t think that I love you?”

“I-I don’t always feel like I deserve it. I hear what people say. He’s moody, what does she see in him? She’s so happy, he’s so miserable. We’re an odd couple, everyone says so.”

She brings her lips to his, doing her best to reassure him. “I don’t care what ‘people’ say and ‘everyone’ can go hang. I love you. I’m grateful you found me that day. I’m so glad it was you.”

Saladin’s lips twitch into a smile. “You punched me.”

“But you came after me, you still made sure I was safe, helped me. You’re a good man, that’s why I love you, moods and all. Don’t ever doubt that. Now…” She picks up her axe and takes his arm. “Come cheer me on.”

Rience’s champion waits for her with a cocky smirk on his face. Jolder nods politely to him. “Melig, isn’t it?”

“Lady wolf.”

Jolder and Saladin exchange a knowing look. “I like wolves,” states Jolder before donning her helm.

In the end, she doesn’t need a second. Rience and his champion underestimate her and the rest of the Iron Wolves as he calls them. A warlord might have lands, soldiers to command, poisons, neurojammers and all manner of things to help him win a battle. None of it matters. Jolder has a pack. As she listens to them cheer her on, one voice stands out. It’s not the loudest, not the most strident. He’s gruff and serious but it is his words that spur her to victory.

#destiny fanfiction #my writing #ask #Lady Jolder #Lord Saladin #Saladin Forge #Saladin x Jolder #jaladin #destiny

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blueeyed-blight · 6 years ago

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[Headcanons]

Ongoing, will be updated now and then, but for now here’s a few starting points about Jasper.

Under the surface Jasper is fairly warm guy, a bit playful at times with his dark humor and eager to win people over. But at the same time he feels he has to be careful for their sake, because he will always be dangerous on some level. And it is difficult for him in the area of social interaction because he has always felt distant from that aspect of life. His humor does tend to fall flat with some people though, it’s a bit macabre at times without meaning to be. He tries though, he wants to trust people, he’s just bad at it.

Something Jasper desperately misses is family, belonging, the love he felt in his early life from his mother and sister. His mother tried to urge him to be a good person and even now he hopes he can live up to that. But the idea of a real family again is one he aches for, even as he knows it likely will never happen. Maybe the closest he will ever come are friends, but even that feels like a beautiful possibility to reach for.

To the degree of the macabre; he does find fascination in decay and beauty in it after living so long with it at his fingertips. Most anywhere he has stayed for any amount of time has ended up filled with gathered trinkets that most would find strange; bones and dead flowers, old photos and oddities. But he sees beauty in the unconventional, truthfully he sees beauty in a great deal of life, and even the ending of it; it just tends to be more the living it than he finds difficult. .

Jasper has come to embrace a great deal of his on supposed darkness since his childhood and the separation from his family. He does believe that from decay springs new life and better things. He doesn’t view his powers as only something ugly and vile and it pains him that so many people cast a dark eye on him for it because of the unsavory aspects to decay.He’s somewhat at peace with it, and hopeful that in some way who he wants to be outweighs what everyone expects him to become. But the shadow of his father still weighs on him, knowing how real the possibility is that there’s more than enough of the man in him to turn his thoughts dark.

There are vices in Jasper’s life; he indulges alcohol at times and medication to ward off some of the ache in his joints. He enjoys gambling, a fact that makes him uneasy given his father’s past with it, and sometimes he just wants so badly to shut the world out that he shuts downs and seeks solitude more than other people. When his anxiety gets too high he doesn’t trust his power, so anything to keep himself in balance he chases, sometimes with terrible results.

[Family]

Jasper has no idea if his father is still alive or not, being that the man disappeared years ago, and he does not care to know. After a lifetime of abuse at his hands he feels nothing but fear still for the man, any sympathy he might have had for him has dissolved with all the scars he sees in the mirror and the ones he feels under the surface of his skin.

Jasper has a collection of scars from his childhood, both mental and physical. Along with several that have mostly faded he carries one across his left palm from the first time his powers manifested and his father’s dog bit him when he tried to save it. That same arm and hand also has some nerve damage from a badly treated broken arm so his grip is somewhat weaker in it. He’s suffered a chipped jaw, broken knuckles, fractures in his ankle and wrist, and some trauma damage to his right kidney.

Due to the event with the dog Jasper isn’t generally comfortable around canines, especially the large ones, and tries to avoid them. So far as pets go he far prefers smaller ones, and has always had a fondness for spiders. He also tends to like scavengers like crows and vultures, but he’s never really tried to take care of a pet. Growing up it was out of the question and he’s never really attempted to bond with animals since his experience with them has mostly been the dogs that used to terrify him.

[Magic]

Jasper commands power over decay, and it’s a well-developed skill. In spite of his family’s negative views of it he had put time and effort into understanding his magic and how to use it, and how to restrain it. He still has lapses, but he’s well past the clumsy teenage years when power often first sparks. Those lapses send him into fits of refusing to be in contact with people until he feels stable again though so it’s an ongoing battle for him.

Jasper’s power works on organic matter like natural decay; he can make plant and animal matter rot and break down. The same applies to inorganic matter, but it’s much harder for him to apply his power to that. He can, in theory, break down stone and metals into rust given enough time, make glass grow brittle and shatter, but it’s very taxing on him to do that compared to urging natural decay in organic tissues.

Reversing decay is possible for him, but it does take a great deal of energy and only works on simple organic material or inorganic. He could coax a burned tree back to growing or pull splintered glass back together, but his power does not work in this way on living creatures because they are too complex. He might be able to in the future but as of yet he has no ability to heal wounds, undo damage to bodies, or reverse the sort of decay that comes with living creatures aging.

Jasper has to be in contact with the subject of his direction in order to use his magic on it; to reduce a person to a dried husk he would have to be able to maintain contact with them for the amount of time the rapid change would take, to destroy an object his hands would have to be on it until the decay is finished. Any break in contact will not reverse the effects but it does halt the progress of it.

Amusingly most anywhere he does stay long begins to pick up subtle decay from his presence. Most of his apartments have shown the signs of cracks in the plaster and weathering in the wood by the time he has left, and places he spends a fair amount of time in show a bit more of it. He tends to like the lived-in feeling of places like that though and has come to find them comforting in an odd way.

There are side-effects to Jasper’s magic. When he uses them the tips of his fingers turn dark and dusty, like they’re marred with ash and can turn entirely black with enough power spent. It’s harmless, but a bit unnerving to see. In extreme cases the whites of his eyes splatter with broken vessels and fill with blood; again it’s something shocking to see but harmless to him. After his power is spent the blackness on his fingertips will wipe away but it usually takes his eyes several days to heal since the reaction is basically a strain-induced hyphema.

Another side effect to his magic, and an ongoing one, is the effect it has on his body. Jasper’s skin holds a degree of cool sensation to it, his body temperature is slightly lower than a normal person, his pulse and heartbeat a few degrees slower than they should be. Internally his muscles and joints suffer from a small amount of deterioration from the nature of his powers and often a low-throbbing pain and stiffness that can grow worse if he’s inactive or too demanding of his powers. His blood also has a slightly thicker quality to it, darker in color than normal. He shows signs of what medically doctors would suggest as being the first stages of rigor-mortis in spite of being very much alive.

[General]

He takes a lot of pleasure in photography, very often carries a camera around with him and prefers old snapshots and photos to new methods like cell phone pictures and filters. He is very good at it, has an eye for it and a degree of talent; but most of his subject matter is off-putting to others since he enjoys taking pictures of broken buildings and abandoned places. He also uses his camera to study people through snapshots of seemingly normal life, enjoying trying to guess at their lives through his lens.

While he has had a few jobs here and there as a photographer in the freelance area most of his bank account has come from family money. He still has a small fortune of his own from what his father gave him when he left that went unspent and left to gain interest. Unfortunately just as much of it has come from an inherited vice; Jasper likes to gamble and he’s good at it. He doesn’t have the magic for luck influence that his father did but he was raised in a world of knowing the tricks to winning and the odds.

He’s by no means a millionaire, but given his modest manner of dressing and his affection for old objects rather than new most people would never guess that his net worth rests well in the hundreds of thousands. He doesn’t bother with excess, only strives to be comfortable.

Unfortunately having to start over now means he still has his means but he has no use for them since he’ll be confined back to whatever living situation his new Sponsor decides for him.

#jasper:headcanons #sd.001

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yyrz · 6 years ago

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somebody tell me, what’s better than love? (better than love)

note: this was supposed to be for @momojirouweek2018 day 7 but it’s a week late. haha. look at me posting this a week late. hahaha. but i got to it at least? yey go me.

ao3 link!!

day 7: stars / free day

The rapping on her door alerts her to her visitor, so late into the night of a quiet Saturday. Momo brings up her face to stare at the door, wary. She blinks, attempting to ignore the sound and instead focusing on the book in her hand. The person outside doesn’t stop, knocks growing increasingly louder each time their knuckles hit the door.

It’s not banging, but there’s a sense of urgency carried by the way each beat lessens by seconds. Momo doesn’t want to get up from her cozy spot on her bed, doesn’t want to throw her blanket off her body, doesn’t want to pad towards her door, squeezing herself between the small space of her bed and her desk.

But the knocking continues, unrelenting. She has half the mind to just ignore it until it goes away, or even throw her book to make it stop (but then, that would alert them of her presence). Before she can make up her mind, the knocking just suddenly... stops.

After exactly two beats, a voice rings from the outside.

“Yaomomo? You awake?”

Momo blinks again, the voice coaxing her out of her bed without another second passing by. Her blanket is thrown aside, book placed on her bed as she hurries to open her door — and there, greeting her is the smiling face of one Jirou Kyouka, sheepishly about to knock once more (what with her hand poised into a fist, lifted and in the process of once again attempting to wake her).

Not that she’d been asleep. But that point is moot.

“Jirou-san? Is something the matter?”

Now, this doesn’t mean that Momo would ignore her classmates when they come knocking on her door. On the contrary, she’s glad to be of any help, going as far as staying up (however late it is) for her fellow heroes-in-training in case they needed her. But the dorms is still a terrifying place (especially given how a small, obnoxious grape-shaped boy has come to her door numerous times in the past, requesting assistance or whatever he wanted). And it isn’t like Momo is choosy with how she distributes her help — she likes to think that anyone who asks for her will have her time for the day.

It’s just that said unnamed boy brings her so many uncomfortable feelings, tension crawling all over her skin, awash with fear and dislike.

But Jirou — Jirou doesn’t do that to her.

Jirou allows her to feel light every time they converse. The way she’s just there , a constant since they’ve all started their life in the dorms. Even before that, when high school started for her and she’d been the silent overachiever of their class, focusing on her schoolwork more than her peers.

Private as U.A. was, she was glad it wasn’t anything similar to the middle school Momo went to — where money spoke wonders, where friends were a commodity that seemed almost rare to have, where everyone had plastics smiles, plastic hearts, plastic personalities to shroud their years until they could remove themselves from the presence of one another. So she was glad for U.A., and she was glad for her classmates (or, most of them, at least).

And she was especially for Jirou, who Momo feels the most at ease, after their disastrous training at the USJ, so long ago. And the years that followed them make her feel a fluttering in her chest. When she’s near Jirou, holding her hand so as to not get lost in the unruly Sunday morning crowd on their way to the shopping mall. Smiling at her whenever one or more of her ugly emotions rise from the depths of her stomach, bubbling through her skin like her creations. Laughing at her inability to understand jokes, but never in a malicious way. No, never like that.

She must look like an idiot, thinking of silly things. Silly things. Yes, they’re silly things. Friendship doesn’t entail her to over-analyze all the times they’ve gone out to spend the day in each other’s company. She doesn’t need to understand (for now) why her chest thrums pleasantly whenever Jirou’s within reach; why her cheeks are tomato red when she hears Jirou speak; why her knees are jelly and her mouth is dry whenever Jirou’s at Recovery GIrl’s clinic, nursing wounds from their last training session.

No, of course not. She doesn’t need to know why everything in her head seems to keep revolving around Jirou. Not now. Not now.

(For now.)

Her musings are thoroughly broken when Jirou calls out to her, tone soft as to not wake the only other person in that floor. Momo watches in awe, brows quirked in that way she’d never realized (that everyone noted, most of all the girl in front of her), as said girl shuffles her feet on the carpeted floor, almost like she’s embarrassed. But as Momo continues watching, she can see how Jirou’s nervous jitters lessen, like she’s steeled her resolve.

Resolve? Why would she —?

“Yaomomo? You okay? You’re spacing out,” Jirou’s words bring her back (again — this is the second time she’s taken by the presence of her friend, why yes of course she’s your friend, and Momo bites back the urge to berate herself for the thoughts running through her head), “oh, wait, did I wake you up? I’m so sorry I didn’t —”

“No!” Momo says a little too loudly — hopefully, not loud enough to rouse Tsuyu-san (Asui, her mind supplies helpfully, in the frog-girl’s familiarly straight voice), holding her hands in a placating manner, “I mean, no you didn’t. Don’t worry Jirou-san.”

The smile that flits across her face is nothing short of genuine, and she brings her hands down in favor of clapping them behind her back.

“Did you need something though? Isn’t it quite late?”

And there, Momo can see Jirou tensing up again. But it looks to be a different kind, not the type of tension that grips her body when she’d receive a sermon from Aizawa-sensei, or when she’d feel the uncomfortable aura of the unnamed boy lurking amongst the shadows of their dorm. No, Momo knows what those look like.

“Ah, yeah! About that,” There’s something so uniquely fascinating about a sheepish Jirou, twirling her jacks around her finger — because she’s so confident of herself most of the day. Ah, but that confidence seems to have returned, as she stops with her unconscious habit, looking Momo in the eye.

Even in her sleep wear (a dark purple t-shirt and white pajama pants), she looks just as beautiful and confident as her hero persona.

Wait.

“I, I sorta wanted to show you something? D’you mind if we go out for a little while? We’ll be back before you know it, I promise!”

Jirou sounds so excited (of the muted variety, though Momo has known her for long enough to be able to tell the sincerity of her emotions), so happy to extend the invitation that Momo can’t help but agree without another though, her elation at being invited by Jirou somewhere threatening to show on her face. She doesn’t think about how late it is, or what punishment they’ll get in the event they’re caught out of their rooms. Momo doesn’t even think about the where, not when a grinning “Of course!” escapes her, and at the grateful smile Jirou gives her in response, the butterflies pooling along the walls of her stomach threaten to burst.

(They’ve gone out to little trips before, what makes this one different?)

(Momo has an inkling but she refuses to see through it. Because there’s no way it’s the right idea.)

They’re on the roof of Alliance Heights.

It’s a chilly evening, a Saturday signalling the end of their busy week.

It’s a chilly evening she had been spending coiled beneath her fluffiest blanket, reading through a book recommended to her by Cementoss-sensei, waiting for sleep to claim her (but being unable to allow it, especially after Jirou came knocking).

So now here she is, chilled to the bone in her too thin pajamas, having only taken a robe with her to cover herself up. Not that she’s easily affected by the cold. Usually.

And yet, for some reason, at that moment, she’s very much cold, with the wind nipping at her skin and the protection her clothes provide, that is to say, none at all, it’s no wonder that she can feel herself shivering slightly.

Still, Momo wouldn’t want to just leave Jirou, not when she’s looking around for something on their roof, face brightening when she finds it, dragging Momo towards said it.

Said it is a blanket. A thick blanket sprawled beneath the night’s sky. When Momo looks up, all she sees is a clear spread across her eyes and they widen with surprise. It’s the first time she’s seen so many stars littering the sky, each glimmering against the backdrop of black.

Momo’s amazement makes Jirou laugh, a twinkling sound in the back of her head as something shoots stark across her sight.

A shooting star.

“Ah, it’s starting!” Jirou rushes to pull Momo faster now, as one meteor falls. The next doesn’t come at once, but it does once they’ve settled on the blanket, and belatedly, Momo sees that there are pillows around them as well. Like Jirou’s hoping to lay down there.

(With her?)

Just the thought of it makes her face bloom with heat.

They’re sitting together though, not laying down, because Momo doesn’t know how her heart would take it if they actually did, shoulders touching and all. And while her queen-sized poster bed would be perfect for such an event, that is, sharing said bed with someone else, Momo has never invited any of her classmates into her room for a sleepover. Oh, she’s entertained the idea numerous times, but despite the agreeable nature the girls in her class possessed, she’s never asked any of them before.

Momo’s hand finds a pillow and she inadvertently clutches onto it, a lifeline of sorts, as another shooting star appears in the sky.

Jirou’s clutching her own pillow, passing it between her hands. “I wanted to show you the meteor shower today. I mean, yeah, it’s not that much yet and I kinda almost forgot about it but I really glad didn’t? Sorry for waking you Yaomomo, I just, uh, I remembered you saying something about them and I knew you’d like to see it.”

“I, Jirou-san, this is wonderful,” her voice croaks with words she’d like to say but unable to, flooded by emotion she knew she needed to clamp down on in case it spilled all over their little escapade, ruining the moment. Momo’s not a very nice crier — she’s always so loud and obnoxious about her crying, plus her tears always drip in fat blobs that splash on whatever surface her face is on.

Right now, the sky is a mess of falling stars. And right now, Jirou’s caring nature pierces through her shivering body, and yet she feels nothing but a warmness bubbling from the deepest parts of her. Momo’s lips turn, smile gracing her features as she lets go of the pillow, making instead of hold onto Jirou’s own. This only causes Jirou to stop, frozen as palms (sweaty? how in the world are Momo’s palms sweaty ), touch together.

The world around Momo blurs, with Jirou’s form the only thing clear to her eyes. The backdrop of a starry night, of falling stars cascading like rain, a shower of light all serve to magnify the understanding that has taken root in her chest since she’s thought about it. That idea. That she might be in love with Jirou. With Kyouka. With Jirou Kyouka, Earphone Jack, hero-in-training, her classmate of three years. Her friend, best friend even.

Her hands close in on Jirou’s own, (and thankfully, the fat blobs of tears that have been edging her eyes don’t fall), as she beholds the varying emotions splayed across Jirou’s own face. From surprise to embarrassment, glee, and then an inkling of fondness, eyes glazing into something so utterly breathtaking to Momo that she wants to pull Jirou into a hug.

(Or a kiss.)

But she doesn’t. Attempt the second option that her head (and heart) keeps shouting, at least, making do with a quick hug before letting go and turning back to the stars and the meteor shower still happening. She lets her stomach settle for a moment, butterflies perching themselves quietly along the lines of her unease and fear.

Maybe some other time.

The meteor shower ends as it began, with one last star falling for them to marvel at. Momo made a wish upon the first one that fell (however unconscious it was, her brain automatically thinking of it once the realization of their activity came to light), and for this last one, she makes another wish.

“You could have kissed me, you know.” Jirou says as she stands up, finally at the end of their activity. Momo blinks, mouth agape as a soft grin latches onto Jirou’s face, looking away from the still sitting Momo. “I, I know I should’ve said it while we were still watching, and, argh, I knew this was a stupid idea, oh g — why’d I even let myself dream —” Mumbling overcomes the girl as Momo remains seated, unable to move.

Something bursts. Momo wished she kissed Jirou earlier. Jirou wanted Momo to kiss her. She feels like an utter fool, unable to go through with her own wish.

But her resolve hardens now, and the butterflies flock all over her stomach, probably chanting do it do it do it if they could speak.

“Well,” Momo stands up then, letting her full height tower over Jirou’s form, “I think I can remedy my mistake.”

And when their lips touch, when her chapped lips meet Jirou’s chapped lips, it’s bliss coated in awkwardness, because this isn’t as romantic as a kiss beneath shooting stars, beneath a plethora of wishes. But it’s still a kiss, and she’s kissing Jirou Kyouka, her friend, her crush, her love. Something poetic should be written about this moment, but Momo can’t stop her brain from dying from this, basking in the glow that came with a kiss from someone so special, so perfect. When they move apart, when Jirou’s stunned face finds her smiling one, Momo lets out a breath, says “I think I love you.”, and allows herself to be enveloped into a hug as Jirou beams at her, and says, “I think I love you.” too.

And, well, in the days to come, when their classmates realize that they’re holding hands and shooting each other gazes full of adoration and euphoria, Momo will be glad that she answered her door when Jirou, no, when Kyouka knocked on her door that night.

#momojirouweek2018 #momojirou #jirou kyouka #yaoyorozu momo #haha i m die #but i finished the week anyway??#well there's day 8........#yyrz.fic

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nanasworkshop · 6 years ago

Text

Wine Stains [Julian Devorak x Apprentice]

A (slightly) NSFW Fanfiction

Pairing: Julian Devorak x Apprentice Tiberius

The night had stretched her shadowy fingers on Vesuvia from hours, and the last rumors from the street ceased bit by bit, to let silence fall on the city. It was quiet – as Tiberius liked.

He couldn’t stop thinking about how much he would have loved a nice, hot bath, whilst finishing to catalog all the wares in the shop. He listlessy wrote down on a paper that there was a low stock of purple bumblebee powder, and the next day he was going to stock up on water lily extract. He yawned, stowing the folded papers into a drawer, controlling the door lock one last time before heading to the stairs. It had been a pretty busy day at the shop, and he was more stressed than tired. He didn’t hear anything from Asra in days, and he started being worried. He knew the Magician was perfectly able to take care of himself, but still… Oh, and Julian. That bastard literally vanished. No one saw him or heard rumors of any sort. This was reassuring and at the same time a torture for his anxiety. Millions of thoughts crowded his tired brain, showing him the worst scenarios. What if he drowned in the aqueduct, or he was in desperate need of help, or something really bad happened and he didn’t know? What if the Count guards got him...?

He stopped at the top of the stairs, bringing a hand to his chest, eyes closed, and he started breathing slowly, trying to calm his racing heart. It was always the same, him, the scaredy magician that was always too anxious, too clingy, that worried always too much. He started humming an aria, concentrating only on the rhythm, tapping a finger on the wooden handrail. Slowly, grotesque images and toxic thoughts vanished bit by bit, while his agitated aura became calmer; when finally his mind cleared and his heartbeat slowed down, Tiberius headed into the bathroom to finally enjoy the coveted bath, hoping it would help him relax even more. Kneeling near the bathtub, he summoned clear, sparkling water with little effort. He dropped the right hand into the water, summoning heat, and quickly steam started rising from the water surface. Satisfied, he started removing his warm cardigan, dropping it on the floor. He heard some rattling from the street, but he decided to not mind; probably, it was just some drunken neighbor returning home, he thought while letting his hair down. Suddenly, a loud crash made him jump, heart in his throat. Tiberius turned to the window, heart still pounding in his chest, froze. Then, a lot of things happened in a blink.

- Tiberiuuuuuuus, my love! - someone cried just under the open window. As soon as he recognized the voice, he rushed downstairs, unlocking feverishly the door. He burst it open, sticking his head outside. Right in front of him, a tall figure was lying between some broken jugs, some dark liquid slowly running on the ground. He knew only one man in Vesuvia who would wear thigh high leather boots. He darted with his short legs to the figure, clearing broken clay, the smell of wine so strong to be almost unbearable. At last, a grey eye met his golden gaze, and a familiar grin flourished on a pale face.

- Hi– Julian warbled with a rasping voice, wiggling his eyebrow and running long fingers in his auburn curls. Tiberius felt his heart dropping down in the stomach. He grabbed both of Julian’s wrists, and almost lifted him. As soon as he was standing up, the apprentice carried him inside the shop, pushing him through the door and controlling around him before closing the door. Triple dead bolting it, just to feel more secure. He turned to see the doctor half-sprawled on the counter, legs sticking out, the face suspiciously green and a hand on his eye, groaning in pain.

- Shit, everything is spinning. What hocus-pocus of yours is this?

- It’s not magic, it’s called “too many Salty Bitters”! How many had you… Why didn’t… - The worried magician stopped his scolding, aknowledging that it was totally useless. He inspired deeply, trying to hide his concern. - Ok, amore mio, what about a nice bath? I have it ready…

- Sounds good. I just hope I’ll not puke everywhere. Would puke stains be worse than wine stains? SUrely, they can't be worse than blood ones.

- ... Don’t make me think about it, please.- Tiberius reached around the counter, looking into jars and glass bulbs. He knew the receipt for a wonderful sobering potion, and luckily he had all the ingredients. Julian was too heavy for him to drag upstairs, he needed to make him walk again, and he totally didn’t want to use the rest of the night cleaning up vomit. He started mixing the ingredients into a mortar with a bronze pester, occasionally taking a look at Julian. He was breathing deeply, hands on his abdomen and both legs swinging down the counter.

- How are you now? - He mumbled something, and the magician could make few words as “stomach”, “twisted” and “fucking Salty fucking Bitters”. He poured the mixture into a glass of water, mixing with a long metal spoon, while reaching for Julian, helping him sitting and paying attention to the sudden change in altitude. Julian’s head swayed a bit, and his glazed glance fell on Tiberius’s delicate features.

- Hey handsome, kiss me. - he mumbled with a malicious grin, wiggling his eyebrows.

- First, drink this, please. - Julian groaned, turning his head away.

- Tsk, you're such a killjoy.

-Julian. - Tiberius repeated with a more severe tone, still showing a deep concern. The redhead was still refusing to drink. Was it because it was a magic potion…?

- If you don’t drink it I’m grabbing your hair and forcing you to open that chatty mouth of yours. - He said in an unsteady voice, failing miserably at being intimidating. But Julian chuckled, the point of his ears slightly pink.

- Ohh, I like it! Do it! - The small apprentice bit his lower lip. He still wasn’t used to be the dominant one in the relationship; because of his tiny frame and delicate traits, it was usually him the submissive. But at this moment, he needed to do what was necessary for Julian’s sake. How Portia called this… putting a boot up the ass? Or maybe was something similar…?

His fingers ran to beautiful curls, massaging the nape. The doctor tilted slightly his head, sighing, while the fingers started running through the auburn air, before grasping firmly at the base. The smaller one made him turn in order to look into each other’s eyes, and saw a sudden blush on his pale face. Tiberius fought against the sudden trembling knees, there was no room for two bottoms in that situation, and pulling hair a bit more he made him lean the head back enough to expose his long neck.

- Be a good boy, and drink. Or I’ll have to send you back to Mazelinka’s. - Julian’s grey eye widened, and after a moment of hesitation, he quickly pulled himself together while the glass was put near his lips. He smiled lasciviously, letting his tongue roll out from his open mouth, caressing the rim of the glass while eyeing upon the magician.

Tiberius’s almost choked, his heartbeat too fast, and trying with every fiber of his body to keep a straight face he made him drink the potion, observing in fascination as elegant lips grasped on the glass, and his Adam’s apple moving at every sip. He was so absorbed by the view that instinctively tightened his grip on his hair; Julian swallowed the last sip, letting a low moan escaping from the depth of his chest, his half-lidded eye looking expectantly up to him.

Wavering seconds passed, spent looking at a little potion drop that was slowly running down the chiseled chin, at his chest rising under the tight coat, before Tiberius’s cheeks turned a vivid red, while leaning to clean the drop, now on the neck, with the point of his tongue. Julian gasped, his right hand grasped the other one’s shirt at chest level, while the humid tongue reached slowly the corner of his mouth. His tongue danced around it for a while, caressing lascivious lips, tearing sweet huffings, before Julian himself closed the distance, lips moving hungrily, fingers curled at his nape. Tiberius immediately felt his tongue sliding between his parted lips, and he let him guide his movement, a soft moan escaping through kisses. He felt the urgent need to climb on his legs, pulling again his auburn hair, while heat started to spread from his chest towards the abdomen. He was wrapped by long arms, malicious leather-gloved hands that ran under his shirt, making him shiver; the cold and smooth leather caressing his protruding ribcage, backbone was enough to make his fingernails claw on Julian's skin. He parted for air, his heavy breathing stopped for a moan at the moment an index and a thumb closed around one nipple. Suddenly, Tiberius felt uncomfortable. It wasn't the right place, his mind kept telling him. You are just a skinny ugly boy, and this beautiful man here is drunk, it's not right, he probably doesn’t even want to touch you. He grabbed lightly his wrists, braking their embrance, and reluctantly parted from him.

- Uh, is, ah, is everything alright? - Julian asked in a low tone, observing confused the apprentice. Tiberius cleared his voice, looking away in clear distress.

- Yeah, don't worry, it's just... you're still really drunk. And your coat is soaked in wine, I’m not a fan of the smell. - Julian blinked owlishly, grabbing his overcoat and bringing the cloth near his long nose.

- This is Rowdy Raven's exclusive fragrance! Don't you find it lovely? - He jumped off the counter, but his legs were still really unsteady. Everything started spinning around him, he opened his arms trying to steady himself, knocking down a jar, and it stopped only when Tiberius dashed to hold him up.

- Now, amore, calm down. The potion needs some minutes to be fully effective. Until then, let me take care of you, ok? - Julian's face was again greenish, and without blinking he nodded. Tiberius smiled, taking advantage of him being leaned forward to kiss him shyly on the cheek. He tried to not think about how mad Asra would have been if he discovered that the doctor smashed his favorite jar, bracing his considerable weight on his tiny shoulders, while carrying him upstairs. As soon as he reached the first floor, too many minutes later, his legs where shaky. He dropped on the pavement, wheezing, letting go of his burden. He was definitely too weak to do things like carrying a giant on his shoulders. Julian groaned as he hit the ground, quickly turning to Tiberius.

- Are you alright? Do you feel numb? Blood pressure? I'm too drunk to control your pressure. Should I use the curse? I can.

- I'm not fainting, calm down - he reassured him simpering, before wiping a sweaty brow. He inspired deeply and got on his knees and standing up, grabbing Julian by the ankle and dragging him towards the bedroom, ignoring his groaned protests; the potion should have started sobering him up soon, so he leaned towards him, that was lying motionless on the ground, arms tossed over his head like a lifeless mannequin.

- How are you doing? - He asked with his velvety voice, meeting a glossy red-rimmed eye. Julian kept looking around, seemingly vigilant - the potion was spreading his effects, Tiberius guesses as soon as he saw the grey eye sparkling with curiosity, and he was able to get on his elbows without too many problems.

- Much better than before. That pep-up soup... I mean, potion, was effective after all. - He said extending an arm, leveraging on the mattress and gracelessly sitting down on the bed with an "oof". He took off his heavy cape and overcoat, throwing away the long leather gloves. His chest was gleaming with sweat drops, and the white shirt was stained with red wine. Tiberius made a step forward to help him get undressed, movements still uncoordinated and shaky fingers too unsteady to unbutton. As soon as the shirt hit the pavement with a swish, the apprentice felt muscular arms wrapping around his tiny waist. Julian dropped his forehead on his abdomen, making him blush madly; that contact was intimate, much intimate. He swallowed hard, and his heart skipped a beat when he felt his fine lips kissing his stomach through the fine shirt.

- J-Julian... - he babbled with a cracked voice, instinctively putting and hand on his naked shoulder. But feeling his cool skin made things only worse; the heat that before was lingering in his chest quickly started spreading to his abdomen, and below. The doctor looked up at him, whimpering softly.

- Mhrmrmrmr, yes my dear? Is everything alright? - Tiberius had his golden eyes wide open, a fine shiver running down his spine. His plumped lips were slightly parted, and fingernails clawed in his shoulder's flesh. - Are you nervous?

Tiberius's cheeks were on fire, and at that sight Julian chuckled, letting go of him. But the apprentice’s expression wasn’t caused by shyness, he noticed. What was happening in that little pretty head of his…? He took his hands, thumbs brushing the back. His delighted expression became more and more concearned the more he understood that TIberius was again victim of his own anxiety.

- Oh, don't feel forced to. I can wait. Unless you change your mind. But you don't have to. - he quickly added with a smirk, raising a little laughter that filled his heart.

- Julian, do you… find me attractive? - the apprentice asked biting his bottom lip. The other one stared at him in shock. He felt Tiberius trying to slip his hands from his grasp, sheepishly shrugging. He steeled his gaze, raising on his feet and making him jump, startled by the sudden movement.

- Are you joking? You are the hottest person I’ve ever met! Look at those lips! And this hands, they are so soft! Oh, and don’t make me start about your elegant legs, or that ridicously sexy neck of yours! - He looked a him with his mouth forming an “O”, eyes wide open. - And I met a lot of people. In Drakr they would worship you like a God.

Silence fell on the bedroom, and the doctor waited patiently for the magician to make up his mind. Tiberius kept looking at the point of his shiny boots, apparently fighting with his own thoughts. They never had sex before, despite their rushed relationship became quickly intimate. It was something new for Julian, but he had no idea what was Tiberius's past experiences. Maybe, sex wasn’t something he was comfortable with, or something he ever did before. It was worth waiting a little bit, or years if needed.

- Let's say - the magician's voice was low, no more than a whisper, but enough to make Julian's head tilt in surprise. - Let's say that I really want to do it with you. What... what would you do? What would we be doing? - He asked slowly turning to face his lover, biting his lower lip. That sight alone was enough to make Julian excited.

- Well, I would start with my specialty. - He said with a grin, wiggling his eyebrows. Tiberius faltered a bit, but his heavy-lidded eyes betrayed his lust.

- And that would be? - Without answering, Julian dropped off the bed on his knees, slowly running his hands up Tiberius's slender legs, making him wince. His fingers ran maliciously on his pant's buttons, but he didn't dare to do anything more. He felt every gasping and every shiver, his rapid breathing and his awkward wobbling. He was excited.

- Don't you want to see for yourself? - he moaned licking his lips. Tiberius seemed not used to that kind of attention, but he was curious, it was obvious. The apprentice ran his fingers through auburn curls, unlacing his eyepatch. Julian seemed surprised, but after a moment of amazement he slowly opened his red-sclera eyes, feeling a shiver down his spine when fingers grabbed his thick hair near the base, forcing him to tilt his head and look Tiberius in the eyes.

- At your command. - He said with a low chuckle, already feeling hard. Tiberius inspired deeply, before putting on a resolute expression.

- Do it.

Guys be honest, should I continue it with the NSFW part?

I’m honestly so worried and anxious for publishing this, I know my English level is pretty low and I’m not really good at writing something so dense in another Language.

>Please if you have any - and I mean ANY - tips on how to improve my Language please let me know.

#arcana fanfiction #julian x apprentice #julian x mc #julian devorak #apprentice tiberius #fanfiction

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