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Breaking down the comics: BEMIS. Part 3

READING THINGS SO YOU DON'T HAVE TO!

Part one is here.

Part two is here.

Part 2: Phases. (Issues 194-200) Published: August 29, 2018

Written by Max Bemis.

Art by Jacen Burrows, Paul Davidson, and Ty Templeton

Editor: Jeff Youngquist

“Moon Knight couldn’t be in better hands”???? Excuse me comicbook.com? I don’t know who wrote that but… I’d like to have some words with them.

Also, I’d like to note that at the end of a few issues, they have Kight Mail. This is something that was started way back in Moench’s run. Fans would write in and they got posted at the end of comics! It showed what they thought of current issues, what they wanted to see, and sometimes they even posted criticism of changes. It was a way to connect to fans and for the writers to feel appreciated or to ask what they wanted to see.

Looking through the fan mail of Bemis’ work in vol one was interesting. All HIGH praises and excitement to see them make Moon Knight dark and gritty. I can’t help but wonder about the demographics of the people writing in at this time. Many of them said they had been long time fans of Bemis’ band “Say Anything”. Which makes me raise an eyebrow.

Now, looking at the first issue of Vol 2.

Still written by BEMIS.

I want to rewind a bit and touch on something that’s going to be VERY important in this next upcoming issue.

Remember how I mentioned that Bemis self identifies as "A Jew who is also a Christian"? Not a lot of people know what that means. It’s also been known as “Jews for Jesus” and Messianic Jewish religious movement.

Messianic Jews are a branch off of Evangelical Protestants.

"They adhere to conventional Christian Beliefs, including the concept of salvation through faith in Jesus (who they refer to as Yeshua by the Hebrew name) as the Jewish Messiah and savior from sin."

I'm not going to get into religious politics or a lot of history here (I'd be here all day)... But if you have even the SMALLEST knowledge about Judaism, you'll feel a creeping sensation along your spine.

The word moshiach (messiah) at its roots meant a leader to the people, not a savior deity. Not a god. It meant that a great king would arise or someone that could lead the people in peace.

So when the Torah mentions the moshiach (messiah), it is referring to a human being that would come to the Jewish people and became a leader, politically usually, who would help Jews and all people thrive in peace.

The "Jews for Jesus" movement is a way to convert Jewish people to Christianity under the guise of still being Jewish. But the problem is that you are either Jewish or you aren't. If you convert to any other religion, you are no longer Jewish. It is a movement meant to recruit more power to the Evangelical Christianity side of things while also removing Jews away from Judaism.

You see, Judaism is a people first and foremost. These people have been killed over and over and over again by so many different countries, religious sects, and political followings. A lot of the major movements (see Spanish Inquisition for more history on that) were not just genocidal, but culturally genocidal with forced conversions. Numerous times, the traditions and culture was almost completely wiped out.

Because of this, there are a lot of VERY strict rules in place to try to save the culture and Jewish religion. One of those rules is that if you convert, you are no longer considered of the Jewish people. You are no longer considered able to speak on their behalf. This may seem confusing and harsh to some Christians or other people that are not Jewish. Perhaps I’m not the one to best explain that to you, but if someone repeatedly tried to kill you and wipe your memory and existence off the face of the planet, then a buddy decided to go join them, would you want that buddy to be able to say “Oh yeah, I know all about how it works. Let me speak for them.”?

They tend to target new converts to Judaism, lonely jews, depressed jews, or at risk Jewish people. They invite them in saying that they want to be friends and to help them celebrate holidays and so on. Then they work on convincing them to convert.

It's scarily like how a cult works.

A "Jew for Jesus" is not a Jew. I don't care what their background growing up is, they no longer have the right to claim to understand the Jewish people or any of that.

So having BEMIS come into Marvel and saying “I can write a Jewish system! I’m Jewish, after all! Representation!” is the biggest load of crap and honestly, it’s almost a hate crime. ….And after reading Vol 2, it WILL be a hate crime. You’ll see.

Aside from the return of Bemis, there is a new artist named Ty Templeton. Templeton only draws for this next issue, which covers the creation of Moon Knight as a child. Then we head back to Burrows.

And Cover artist Becky Cloonan.

I feel bad because this was Becky Cloonan's first time as a cover artist.

Despite the story, that is some AMAZING art.

Issue #194

That’s nice. Looking at that kinda makes you excited right? A story about young Marc! Last time we got young Marc was a few flashbacks in Lemire and I adored those. I’d kill for more of that.

Alright... Opening up, we have the title page that gives you the "previously" blerb.

"Marc Spector recently fought through a gauntlet of enemies old and new as the Sun King joined with Bushman and the Truth to attempt to destroy Moon Knight and everything he held dear, including the daughter he never knew he had. Spector overcame the odds and defeated the Sun King, but now faces an even greater challenge: Fatherhood."

Hmm. Sure. Okay. It's not terrible. Maybe....Maybe this issue will be okay. It’s a false sense of security. A little beam of hope.

We see Marc and Frenchie at a table having drinks and chatting.

I do deeply enjoy the idea of Frenchie coming back as a friend. Not as a loyal devoted pilot, but as a much needed actual friend to Marc. Marc has only ever just had Frenchie.

They're chatting it up. Frenchie asked him if he could have had any job in the world, what would he have liked to have done if he wasn't a mercenary.

Marc says he wanted to be creative. Aww.

Frenchie tells him he'd have made a handsome actor.

But Marc say sno, he wanted to be something creative. "There's a lot going on up here." He points to his head. "Stuff I could express without, you know...Beating people half to death. I'd be fat ad happy and soft."

I mean, that's a pretty good Marc sentiment. And looking back at Lemire's childhood depiction of Marc, it fits. He wanted to do so many things...

This is starting out as a pretty good issue. I like the art more (still a little flat, but it’s a coloristic style). Not nearly as bad as-

Ah.

Okay, so... I... I'm gonna take a very long breath here because we are about to go down a rabbit hole of SEVERE antisemitism.

This is your only trigger warning. Same warnings as in Vol 1. I’m also going to cut a LOT of art out and just describe it to you. It is going to get disgusting.

We are getting the story from Marc's narration as he talks to Frenchie about why he thinks being Jewish is the reason behind all his trauma.

That's now what he said, but it is what is being heavily implied.

Bemis just straight up said "Being Jewish is traumatizing and life would be better if I wasn't."

And coming from a "Jew for Jesus", you know he full on believes this and follows it.

And this is going to get VERY uncomfortable.

MOON KNIGHT HISTORY LESSON REFRESHER:

Moench didn't intentionally write Moon Knight as Jewish.

He picked a name and found out it was of Jewish origins and he thought "Yeah. That sounds good." and rather than ignore it, he went with it full heartedly.

He outright said "Marc is Jewish. The system is Jewish. Moon Knight is a Jewish Comic."

He touched on a lot of heavy themes that in one way or another tended to cycle back around to Jewish issues at the time (1980s.) Moench tended to write about what he was seeing in the world around him and it is done with such care and grace that we can still feel those movements and issues when we re-read it today. His message is never lost.

It wasn't until Zelenetz took over the run that we really got any of Marc's backstory, though.

Zelentz, a man from a Jewish background who taught in a Jewish school, made Marc's father a Jewish Orthodox Rabbi from Czech who fled the Holocaust and Nazi invasion.

Under NO CIRCUMSTANCE was it ever implied that this or any of that upbringing had anything to do with his DID.

In later issues, deep into the 90s and far away from Moech and Zelentz, mostly when talking about his brother, he mentions that his father was very strict and had a lot of rules.

Some writers even hint at some abuse from his father, especially towards Randall Spector. But this conflicts with Zelentz, who stressed that Marc's biggest issue with his father was that he was too passive.

In Lemire, we see another reimagining of Marc's father and see him as a bit more modern day and very concerned about his son's mental health and what others might think of him.

We still don't see the trauma that happened and it doesn't even pretend to hint at it.

I'll cover Marc's trauma in a completely different post much later, but not knowing Marc's trauma and past is a good thing.

But people are curious and they wanted to know. They wanted to know what caused the DID and where Moon Knight came from.

So Bemis thought "I used to be Jewish. Who better to answer this question than me?"

(Anyone. The answer is anyone is better than you, Bemis.)

So we see a bunch of stereotypically Jewish men sitting around a table. They are enjoying some wine after a meal and there are a LOT of books behind them. I'm going to assume they are in a Synagogue and this is a temple gathering.

The artist here CLEARLY tried to copy and feed off of Smallwood. Perhaps in an effort to establish to the reader that we are looking at the same people and this is how the characters now look in cannon.

I can appreciate that.

So we recognize little Marc Spector and Elias Spector.

We know Elias is a Rabbi and Rabbi like to gather with other Rabbi to discuss things and share knowledge.

So I'm going to take a wild stab here that this is a group of Rabbi or other learned men in close proximity to the Rabbi.

"Let me explain. I'd have to start with Rabbi Yitz Perlman, the funniest guy I've ever met in my life.

You know when you're a kid and a grown-up is making grown-up jokes you don't really understand, but they're still so funny you almost Pee?"

We see Rabbi Yitz making a joke that cracks everyone up.

I had to look this one up because the joke flew over my head. Apparently it's an old joke and Bemis did NOT tell it right.

Here is how the joke is really supposed to go:

A Jewish father was troubled by the way his son turned out, and went to see his Rabbi about it. "I brought him up in the faith, gave him a very expensive bar mitzvah, cost me a fortune to educate him. Then he tells me last week he has decided to be a Christian! Rabbi, where did I go wrong?" "Funny you should come to me," said the Rabbi. "Like you, I brought *my* boy up in the faith, put him through University, cost me a fortune, then one day he, too, tells me he has decided to become a Christian." "What did you do?" asked the father. "I turned to God for the answer," replied the Rabbi. "And what did he say?" pressed the father. "God said, 'Funny you should come to me...' "

It’s actually pretty funny when told right. It also says that you should take responsibility to actually raise your kid. But it’s also a Jesus joke in a way. I’ll let you decide if it’s funny or not.

Marc continues:

"There was something exotic about the language he used, the rich, almost mealy-mouthed yiddish inflections he peppered into his monologues, but most importantly... Yitz had the best Jewish jokes of anyone I've met to this day."

Marc… You were RAISED by a rabbi. There should be nothing ‘exotic’. YOU SPEAK YIDDISH.

"Now, let me back up for a second and establish something you've probably caught on to, Frenchie. There's nothing Jews find funnier than making fun of ourselves. As a guy who gave up on organized religion, I sometimes think of it as a weird byproduct of our pride in being "God's Chosen People" (Or at least according to the old testament). Like we can afford to take the piss out of ourselves because, in the end, we're going to be the one's ruling the roost."

I…I have to take a minute to break down why this WHOLE PARAGRAPH is wrong. GAH.

True, Jewish people love to poke fun at themselves. It’s a survival tactic. I once had it explained to me that it was laugh or cry and the Jewish people chose to laugh.

I don’t see Marc as having ‘given up on organized religion’. This is a very common misconception when it comes to Moon Knight. If anything, Marc Spector epitomizes the essence of being Jewish. He very much still is aware of the culture, costumes, and often still shows that he understands. Time and time again in Moench and Zelentz he spoke Yiddish, he saved Jewish people, he stopped antisemitism, he rescued a Rabbi and Torah, he punched out Nazi scum. In MacKay, we see that Marc still knows Hebrew. He still knows the prayers. Jake speaks Yiddish! What’s happened is that Marc observes in his own way and while this doesn’t come across as being overtly religious, that’s the beauty of Judaism. You don’t have to go to a temple or synagogue. You can be at home and follow your own path.

The term Organized Religion in itself is not a Jewish term! It’s Christian! There is no overall ruling power or singular organizer that keeps the rules or how things are done!

Here’s the biggest issue! There is NO pride in being “chosen people”. That’s NOT WHAT THAT MEANS BEMIS AND YOU SHOULD KNOW BETTER.

So, in Judaism, "chosen people" means that Jews are "chosen" to have extra responsibilities than other peoples. In terms of the covenants with G-d (basically, it's referring to circumcision, keeping kosher, etc). It means that the people have been chosen to make the world better. They can’t rely on anyone else. It is their responsibility to do their part! BUT Evangelical Christians interpret "chosen people" to mean "Special." Because Evangelicals believe that Jews are necessary for resurrecting Jesus. Which is where the “we’re going to be the one’s ruling the roost” phrase comes from. THAT IS NOT A JEWISH BELIEF.

He says “Old testament.” There is NO Old testament in Judaism. Because there is no NEW TESTAMENT. That’s a Christian belief and teaching! It’s the Torah! And they aren't even organized the same way!

They can afford to take the piss out of themselves because they have to! They humble themselves. They joke and make light of their situation. They say what they feel and think then laugh it off because they have to!

And...While Marc is explaining this, we see young Marc watching a Seinfeld episode.

Specifically it's the one where Dr. Whatley is suspected of wanting to convert to Judaism because he wants to make Jewish jokes.

It's implying that converts aren't converting for good cause, but with a hidden agenda.

We also see Moon Knight in certain Jewish and biblical settings as he explains things.

"After all I've been through at the hands of one faith or another, I confess sometimes that makes me angry. But then I realize I'm caught up in the cycle itself just by having these thoughts. Inflation of ego, anger, shame...Just a cycle. One that runs on hatred.

But at that point i didn't know anything about that. Jewish humor was just pithy and jolly, and I was proud to be in on the joke. "

AGAIN. These are NOT Jewish ideals. Not Jewish teachings or beliefs!

We see Marc expressing anger about being traumatized by religion and falling into a sort of cycle of inflated ego because he believed he was chosen!

He talks about how it caused hatred and ego! BULL SHIT. It's humbling! When you take it into context, these teachings are MEANT TO BE HUMBLING!

"Yitz was the Rabbi who taught my dad how to be one himself, so he was very much an uncle to me. I loved sitting in the corner of his office and listening to Yitz, Dad, and their friends rant about endless Jewish minutiae and debate its moral significance."

No nonononononononono.

Absolutely not.

"Being, unsurprisingly, a bit of a loner, I'd often go on adventures by myself through the bowels of our Synagogue, staving off dust allergies so I could pretend to be Indiana Jones. As if I'd, like, unearth some lost tablet that held the answers to all of life's questions and get rich. What I found, mostly, were obese mice.

I was a prepubescent kid who was more comfortable with a couple of Old Jewish Guys than I was with a single soul in my homeroom class."

In these depictions, Marc is already an older kid. Judging from how he’s drawn here and in Lemire/Smallwood’s run, they look to be about the same age.

We know that DID has to happen at a very young age from REPEATED horrible trauma. In Lemire’s run, we see Marc already HAS DID at this point, though it isn’t very obvious to him or his parents yet. They are already concerned about his behavior and he is already showing signs of being more than one person, even before we see him be introduced to Steven Grant. We also do know that Marc was a lonely child growing up. He played alone, didn’t have friends, and showed signs of behaving differently from the other children.

How old do you think Marc is here? Cause he looks at least 8-10. And with the way he speaks and behaves, he has to be somewhere in that range, maybe closer to 10.

Marc asks what the Shoah is and his father tells him that he’s too young to know. THen likens it to “The Sex Talk”.

Not only that, but he doesn’t want to tell Marc about it.

Elias says that his father was in a war, and that’s where he met Yitz.

“The Shoah was part of a war. A big war. The biggest war. They called it a ‘world war’ Lots of people died. My dad died there. And my Mom had to move to America to get away from all the fighting, and that’s why we live here and not in Czechoslovakia…Not that I’m complaining.”

NO. NO NO NO. That is NOT how you explain that. You do not casual World War 2. You do not casually explain the HOLOCAUST. ESPECIALLY not as a Rabbi talking to your own sun AT THAT AGE. He should already know about WW2. He should already know about the Shoah. He didn’t even explain it right.

I’m sitting here sobbing. As a history buff that ESPECIALLY focuses in on this time period, I’m dying inside. I’m seething.

He is downplaying the Holocaust. I can’t believe this. LOOK. OKAY. I get that this is a comic. It’s a comic that is rated T. I can understand (BITTERLY) if Marvel does not want to cover something as deep as- ….NO. ACTUALLY. NO I CAN’T.

GO READ MAGNETO. GO READ CAPTAIN AMERICA. Magneto did a beautiful job of covering the Holocaust YEARS AGO. There is no right or reason to have to down play it like this. Bemis is just being a bigoted idiot that is trying to show his father as uncaring, Marc as being ‘special’ and unwell, and Jews in general as being cold!

X-Men: Testament. Magneto

By Greg Pak and illustrated by Carmine Ci Giandomenico.

Published in 2009.

THIS is how you cover the Holocaust while still trying to be a comic set in the Marvel Universe. It is heartbreakingly beautiful and as honest as a comic can get coming from Marvel. GO READ IT IF YOU CAN.

THIS… THIS IS NOT HOW YOU COVER THE HOLOCAUST.

No. Elias doesn’t get to look at him like that. It was a SHIT way to explain it. It was a shit thing that he just did there. He put Marc in that position and failed to teach him about his ancestors, his culture, his history, and the world in general.

It’s not like there is a literal holiday set aside “DAY OF REMEMBRANCE” or that there is a literal prayer SPECIFICALLY WRITTEN for all those who died in the Shoah. And it isn’t like every Passover includes a paragraph ABOUT THE SHOAH. There is NO REASON Marc should not have an idea what the Shoah is. I’m so mad. I’m so mad right now.

Oh! And then we immediately follow that up with a Greedy Jew Joke.

Great. Fantastic. Why is Marc studying in the Rabbi office?

He goofs off a bit more and they have fun. Marc asks Yitz if he can come by and study there again tomorrow while his dad finishes his work at home.

Yitz tells him to come after seven.

"I don't want to convey that I liked Yitz more than my dad. My dad was great. It's just that...Sometimes he wasn't all there. He would zone out sometimes and just...Disappear. Which is...Whatever. But when he got too deep into it, you'd see a flash of something. Something he knew. Something he felt... You'd get the suspicion something was upsetting him. Something he didn't want to discuss. He... Had a lot going on up there."

NOPE. You do not get to play this off like Elias was also mentally ill.

While there IS a very small amount of research that may show that DID can be contributed to by a chemical imbalance in the brain that is hereditary and predisposes them a bit more towards becoming DID if traumatized... There is no proof and studies have not been conclusive or done enough!

Or, perhaps, Bemis is implying that Elias knew about what was coming. WHICH IS EVEN WORSE.

In Lemire’s run, Elias was caring. He wanted to help his son, though he went about it the wrong way. It was what was expected for that time and age.

"I knew Yitz said to come by after Seven, and I was kind of embarrassed to show him how eager I was to hang out...Gotta play the cool kid... But I figured he'd be excited to see me, so it wouldn't matter."

He finds Yitz's office locked so he decides to head down to the basement again to wait.

He finds a trap door in the basement and of course he opens it up and falls inside.

There, he finds Yitz in the dark.

"Oh, Marc. I said to meet me after seven, didn't I?"

If we follow the logic (logic. HA) that Marc doesn’t know what WWII is, what the Shoah is, or what happened, we can also follow that to mean that Marc doesn’t know what a Nazi is. He doesn’t know about antisemitism and he doesn’t know how to avoid danger or dangerous people.

That is a large room. To be hidden under a basement in a synagogue. And no one else knows it’s there? Bullshit.

Also? Marc said that Yitz was a Rabbi that knew his grandfather and who also trained Marc’s father in how to be a Rabbi. This means he’s been a Rabbi for a LONG time. And not everyone just gets to be a Rabbi. It’s a PROCESS. A long process!

I’m not posting the next pages. They are disturbing.

"You must have so many questions. Most importantly, 'what is uncle Ernst doing with that dead boy hanging from the ceiling?' First... He's not dead. Though I was hoping to get that done before our meeting. Truthfully, you're a good sort and you've never been in any danger from knowing me. Until now, that is. Because you have learned. I'm not Uncle Yitz, but Uncle Ernst. Would you like to know how I knew your Grandfather, really?"

He's torturing the hanging man during this speech.

He babbles on for a while. Here's a summary:

When the Nazi invaded, Marc's Grandfather tried to offer up information to the Nazi in an attempt to get his family out and to America. Apparently Ernst was the Nazi that Marc's grandfather pleaded with. Ernst saw that things were not going well in the war and that Hitler's end was coming. So he helped get the family out. In return, he asked to escape with the family.

He disguised himself as "his long-lost Rabbi friend".

Along the way, Ernst killed Marc's Grandfather so no one would learn the truth.

Then he starts talking about how he was part of the Cabal (the people that made the Red Skull). They gave him enhancements too.

"My Enhancement is more simple, more elegant. I discovered a method to elongate my life, so long as I sufficiently stimulate the dark, primordial pleasure center of my brain on a regular basis. And you see... What I enjoy most is killing Jews."

Yeah so... We have a Nazi jew killer from Hitler run Germany who pretended to be a Rabbi????!

This is propaganda. There are literally conspiracy theorists out there that believe that the Jewish people are hiding the Nazi. That they made it all up to hide the Nazi.

Again, it takes SO MUCH to be a Rabbi. He had to study. He had to know All five books of Moses AND the Talmud and the history and teachings and language! There is NO WAY someone just stumbles their way through that.

So this guy goes up to Little Marc and tells him about "what we accomplished together as a nation, less than a century ago. I will tell you of your 'Shoah'."

Hmmmmnn…

And he tells Marc what his FATHER should have told him years before.

About the Holocaust. It's a cliff note version of it.

All of this is told over images of Marc enjoying his life with Marlene and Diatrice.

It's told very matter of fact.

About the trains, ghettos, camps, gas chambers, or of course Dr. Mengele (who, while famouse was not the worst of them).

"It's the same world now that let it happen back then, Marc. It isn't crazy enough that it's impossible. People like me... We'll always be out there waiting to come back for you."

SEE. THIS IS WHY HE SHOULD HAVE KNOWN ABOUT THIS BEFORE. He could have gotten the proper introduction. The history. THe proper order of things. The places, the Nazi propoganda war machine, and the Final Solution. It is important to know history so it doesn't happen again. NEVER AGAIN is what they are taught.

But it also teaches them that there are Nazi and people like that out there in the world. It teaches them how to avoid these things. These people. Teaches them about the dangers of people out there that want them dead.

This should not have traumatized him. This was fact. This was what he should have already learned about and dealth with.

So, Little Marc gets pissed off and attacks the man, biting him, punching him, and scratching him.

Marc gets away, but Ernst yells that if he tells anyone he'll come back for him.

This is not what caused Marc's DID.

This is a poor rendition of "Jew Trauma" story telling.

This is a clear play down on the Shoah, a push to show a Nazi hiding as a Jew, and a cold responce to mental health and death.

I hate this. Good thing it gets worse. So...much...worse...

Anyways, Marc finishes his tory and Frenchie looks horrified.

He thanks Marc for telling him. He tells Marc that he needs to eventually find a way to "explain your condition, your world, the complexity of it all" to Diatrice eventually.

You see, Diatrice has been raised by Marlene. Marlene is NOT Jewish.

Even with "Uncle Jake" stopping by to help raise her, as implied in the last volume... It is very VERY doubtful that she is doing raised Jewish.

And we already know that Marc/Jake/Steven’s condition has been hidden from her.

I wish it ended there, though I dislike the use of telling her he's a kook.

But of course it doesn't end there.

"It's probably something that's been in my family for a long time. And I can't help it."

Again, no proof that this is a hereditary thing.

"And when I was little, I got scared very badly and, since my brain was wacky, it wound a wacky way to deal with being scared. I made friends like Uncle Jake and Uncle Steven to keep me company when I feel really lonely or upset."

It…Isn’t a TERRIBLE way to explain things to her, depend on her age…. It’s not exactly accurate to how it works, but it’s a start for a young kid.

But then we get Bemis doing a TERRIBLE call back. Because Marc didn’t do a bad job of explaining this! This was not world ending universe changing news! This was something she’d already run into and now had proper terminology for! She knew her dad was different! She knew about Uncle Jake and Steven! This isn’t the SHOAH.

I really…REALLY wish this was like an annual or something. That it was mentioned then never brought up again. I really REALLY wish they had dropped this story and gone and done something else… ESPECIALLY considering Issue 200 is coming up and it’s a big deal….

It isn’t. It. Keeps. Going.

In the afterward we got whoever being like "Wow! What an intense issue! What a gut punch at the end!"

I think it's the editor. Which is just... They thought this issue was deep and moving.

That should tell you a lot about where this volume is going.

This bread? It’s rotten. Send it back.

Issue #195

This one is drawn by Paul Davidson.

This...This issue? I hated it. I hated it so much. Not even the kind of loathing hate you saw in the last issue. This is just... I felt physically ill reading this one.

Oh. Right. Paul Davidson.

I...I hate this art. I hate it so much.

What I don't get is that his art doesn't always look like this.

Sometimes it's kinda nice and has a good flow with the story.

But it's like they gave him Moon Knight and he went, "Insane guy right? Caricatures it is!"

Okay so... I DO remember reading this issue. It immediately struck me as a hateful commentary on 'radical' thinkers, 'new age' people, and 'people trying to be socialites'.

This is why it's drawn like cruel Caricatures. They want you to hate these people and look down on them and think they snooty and bad.

It’s cropped like that because it just keeps going.

I’m going to save you the trouble of reading that drivel and give you a summary:

You see a leader telling them that The Collective is starting today.

He wants to assess each "former individual".

We have the artist. She name drops a famous artist then tells them she "collects real human skulls of deceased circus clowns". Uh huh.

Then we have the "Aggressive romantic nihilist". He has a collection of jeans that he doesn't wash after sexual conquest. Hmm.

There's the skeptic. She thinks everything needs doubt and states that she hates everyone so far. Cute.

There's the fanboy? He likes the whole group and apparently stalked them online before they even met and made paper-mache busts of them all? Right.

Then you have the leader who is conducting the experiment.

His idea is that he wants to "Fuse our very personalities in defiance of our skin shackles and actualize pure socialism."

WOW. So this is not just a cheap shot at mental health, DID in general, but it's ALSO a political shot at socialism.

Fantastic.

I'm so stoked for this disgusting journey we are about to go on.

I’m going to put a pin in this for a second for some personal commentary.

I’m Ace. I’m deeply uncomfortable when it comes to sexual depictions and situations. Especially in comics. There are comics out there that are sexual in nature and that’s fine! I don’t care. I know not to read those ones. I have nothing against the act, in people enjoying different things, different fetishes, and so on. In fact, I stand very firmly in the beliefs that as long as no one is getting hurt and everyone is consenting, you can enjoy whatever you want. That’s your right.

So when I opened up this issue and was faced repeatedly with deeply uncomfortable situations, implications, and art meant to make fun of these people… Not to mention that it felt like they were trying to make the very act of fetishes ‘funny’ or ‘wrong’... This isn’t good comic book content. It really isn’t.

I’m not going to show you all these pages because they really are disgusting and make my stomach sick. But I’m going to try to pick out a few that are not…the worst…

So now they're at a "secret A.I.M. Base."

They have some technology that the main guy is paying them for access.

Apparently his cousin works at the AIM facility as a member.

"I spent most of my life being spoiled by my parents, drowned in trophies, diplomas, accolades, and doctorates. Yet, as long as I can remember, I've woken up feeling empty and mundane. I'm as much as one man can be on his own. Together, we could be...something more."

Yeah... this is going to be a dunk on DID. I can feel it coming.

"This machine creates psychic bonds". The idea is that it's going to fuse them.

They all gather around the machine and it melts them into one horrible flesh thing.

They spot the AIM worker hiding in the corner and tell him he looks Lonely and "you should join us". And they absorb him too.

And just like that, we are back to NORMAL art. Proving that it was drawn like that originally on purpose to make us instantly feel disgusted and uncomfortable and hate it.

This art right here? I like this. I love the sharp lines. The shading. The dull colors. I like the shape of the faces. I like the noses (I'm a nose person. I love the shapes of faces and the different noses!)

....I'm not sure why they are all fishing and why Steven looks like he's in time out...

Got a good look? Good because the art style is about to change again and we don’t see this style again. I…I don’t get it. Why go back. Why give us ugly and disgusting? Moon Knight should be beautiful. It should make you stop and look at a page for hours just wondering about how he got the oil slick on the street to look like that (still pining for Bill. Always loving Bill.)

So we see the boys sitting on a rock above a boiling water in the mind scape and Marc is complaining that he's done with the meta human "freak market". He wants to take it back to street level with thugs and dirtbags.

Jake tells him "good job on the not-killing-him thing."

He's being sarcastic because he's pretty sure that Sun King is going to show up later to cause problems like they always do.

"It's all good. Bushman and I are really getting to know one another. We exchanged numbers. I think we might start a bowling league."

"Jake, you're by far the worst me."

Hm. Once again the conflict on Marc vs. Jake is just...Not fitting in with their character at all.

And Khonshu catches something on his fishing line.

It's marlene's head and she looks pissed. She yells at him and it snaps him out of his inner world state.

We see them at the movies with Diatrice and his phone is buzzing.

Apparently there's a "Super-Crime alert" app.

He checks it despite being in the theater, completely pissing off Marlene btw, and is more than a little disgruntled to find that it's not a normal problem.

He gets up and heads out "I said no more weirdos. I SAID no more weirdos..." And it is Moon Knighttime.

He arrives to find utter chaos.

He locates two cops and asks where the thing is.

I'm not pleased with this at all.

"All right, where is the guy?"

"It's against the law for me to tell you that."

"Jerry, don't mess with that guy. It's that crazy one. He cuts people's faces off."

OKAY. SO. Let me get into this a bit.

ONE TIME one of the writers had Moon Knight come up against Bushman. He cut his face off and kept it like a souvenir. Literally no one was around to witness this. Yet it's always been a running gag about how insane he is and that he cuts off faces.

Which... I hate that writer for doing it. It was funny at the time... But that was a long time ago and looking back at it, that run was just... It had problems.

I'm not mad at this art style some of the time. It's an interesting costume and I always enjoy seeing interpretations to his costume.

Then we see the thing.

It's pretty grosse. A giant writhing mass of blobby flesh with lots of faces and hands and eyes and teeth. why is it always teeth?

And it has noticed Moon Knight and wishes to absorb him too.

"I don't necessarily like that you know who I am." He is not thrilled about fighting this.

"We are now composed of...At least 32 New Yorkers. Several of which are familiar with your history."

"Would you, say, be willing to not be that?"

It smashes up any darts tossed at it.

It immediately turns to a security guard and sucks him in, absorbing him into the Collective.

Ready for this?

Yeah. I'm so uncomfortable right now.

Moon Knight pulls out two swords and slices and dices but it doesn't really do much.

It manages to tackle Moon Knight and rips off his mask and starts to absorb him.

I'm not showing you that picture.

things go black and then we find Marc, Jake, Steven, and Khonshu in a dank cave like place. They head towards a lighted room and find this thing that haunts my nightmares.

I'm going to show you this because it's really ALL I need to show you to hopefully make you understand WHY I hate this issue So. Very. Much.

Art makes or breaks a comic people. But so does the writer who tells the artist what to draw.

ALSO WHY IS THE ART STYLE SO INCONSISTENT?!

Nnnhhh…. This is not a Dr. Strange comic. There should not be psychedelic imagery. And even this is a bit much for Dr. Strange, because at least that knows how to make sense of the chaos.

There is a fine art to depicting chaos without overwhelming the audience. This isn’t it.

Also, it’s VERY clear that this is supposed to be taking a jab at the hippy collective socialist mentality.

And you 100% know that Bemis thought this up and went “They’re already a collective of DID! This is going to be super awesome to show them joining all these other minds and making sense of it and then getting rejected!”

F@*&%&$ you Bemis.

So that ends that issue.

Great. Next bread please. Get me out of this house of moldy bread.

Issue #196!

Still Davidson. (SIGH)

I hate this cover. I have this thing about depicting the brain so it looks like wormy spaghetti. It doesn't sit well with me. I hate it. You know what else I hate?

Yeah. Yeah… I’ll leave it alone for now. But I can’t stress how MUCH I hate this.

So... Butterfly man gives them a tour of the collective consciousness.

"And this is just the beginning. The human mind has an infinite capacity for diversification. Each new brain we add is another universe within us. So imagine that we keep adding infinity upon infinity every time we absorb someone..."

Jake calls it.

"That's a lot of personalities to deal with. What you've got here is an excess of personality. You realize it's taken my man Marc Spector 30 years to deal with a HANDFUL of identities? No wonder you're just attacking random people on the street. This place is out of control."

No. I mean yes but I also mean no.

A system is not always cool and collected. Sometimes there are disagreements, fights, and struggles for how things should run (and that's just the ones that are aware of themselves being a system).

MARC is not the one keeping their system going. We know this. We've seen it time and time again. Marc is the stubborn ass-hole that keeps them moving. That keeps them doing what they need to do. But he'd work them to death to do what he does.

Jake is the one that cools them off and helps build up their social life and handles the joy in life. Steven is the one that handles the self care, the management of the life that doesn't involve them breaking every bone in their body, and Steven is ALWAYS prepared to pull Marc to the back if things go too far.

They take care of one another. They have their roles.

Marc is NOT in charge.

Just because writers don't know what to do with Jake and Steven and always throw Marc to the front (1990s onward. Moench knew exactly what to do with them), doesn't mean Marc is the man in charge.

Well, Butterfly man says "That's where you come in, Mr. Spector. [....] I'm the de facto ruler of the collective, given that its idea was born of my thought process. But I'm just one man who never had much to say for himself outside of scientific ambition... Which is obviously adequately represented here. Someone needs to kick some butt around here to keep things in line."

So Khonshu and Steven reason that if someone takes charge on how to handle all the ‘personalities’ then the blob will stop going on a rampage.

IS THIS AN ALLEGORY FOR D.I.D.?! Is that what Bemis is trying to do? Oh I hate this.

Butterfly man points out that they are ‘the sum of all your thoughts and whims’ and this somehow manifests….

So.... We get a lot of different designs of Moon Knight. Skrulls and robots and more butterfly sorts and just... The thing Marvel does when it's trying to design a lot of weird designs.

I’m just not impressed. There could be better designs and in this art, they are all just kinda hovering there doing nothing.

And thus… "Moon Knights. Every you you've ever dreamed of. Now, what say we put them to work?"

And Moon Knight goes on a therapy mission to try to fix all the parts of the collective brain universe.

The Moon Knights resolve "the Oedipal complex, the Angst quotient, All suicidal and homicidal tendencies..."

(the fact that they placed suicidal and homicidal together in the same spectrum is down right insulting).

Also there's this...

I don’t even know where to start with this one. I’m going to skip the obvious low hanging fruit of “False masculinity” that should have been called “Toxic masculinity”... And hit the fact that you can feel that Bemis doesn’t like Steven. He writes him as a wimp. He writes him crying all the time and as vain and clinging to Khonshu. He CLEARLY views Steven as useless except as eye candy or worse.

(Not to mention we’ve seen Steven in a speedo before, Speeden as we lovingly call him, and Bill did a FAR better job.)

So they go back to butterfly man to see how things are going, since they resolved so many of the collective's issues.

They take a peak at the outside world and...

I swear to all that is holy in the Moon Knight world...

There's an image of the blob huge and destroying things and what not. Under neath that is a list of emotions the blob is feeling:

Rage 25%, Frustration 25%, Sexual Frustration 40%, inner peace 10%

They decide they need to figure out the core of all the bad emotions and Jake figures that it's the main control guy, the butterfly man.

"All this judgment and messiah complex nonsense--You're kind of a @$#%, huh?"

He denies it, saying "It's not the general sentiment around here" but some of the original collective pop in to tell him that they all think he is.

Butterfly man freaks out, yelling about how none of this would be possible without his genius and blah blah blah

"You think the work you've done is so great? If it weren't for me locking away that sentient virus that's trying to drive the collective insane, things would be way worse!"

And everyone stares at him and asks if that's true about the virus. He denies it.

They restrain him while they decide to open the locked door and deal with whatever problem is hidden behind it.

A bunch of weird goblin like Ork creatures come out in battle armor and tell them all to prepare to die or kneel before their leader.

"One man should never control an entire world, Maurice, and no crappy aspect of someone's personality should define them. Trust me. I would know."

Uh huh. It's ego. They're fighting ego.

So we get some trippy art of all the Moon Knights fighting the goblin things mixed with images of the blob fighting the army and avengers in New York.

UGH.

"All right. You're weird little reign is over" they defeat the goblins.

"It's Facism of the mind! Get Jungian with us and let go, Maurice!"

UGH. "Jungian analysis is a psychoanalysis method to access and experience and integrate unconscious material into awareness." It basically is looking for meaning behind behavior, feeling, and events. It's CARL F-ing Jung. A psychologist "The goal is to achieve psychological healing and wellness by aligning conscious and unconscious aspects of someone's personality".

There are a lot of opinions about Carl Jung out there and I'm not going to get into that. But a lot of this doesn't go well with D.I.D. It has a lot to do with integration of the alters when applied to DID. ...I'm not going to get into that either, because it's a HOT debate in the DID community and I have no business poking that bear with that stick.

So Butterfly man Maurice says "But...I just hate AND love myself so much!"

Jake takes things into his own hands.

"Steve, I don't really know the metaphysical implications of this, but given this guy seems to think he's what's holding this all together, I think it might help to just...Whack him in the face. Give him some perspective, ya know?"

(WHY IS HE CALLING HIM STEVE?!)

(Why did the art style change again? Why did their designs change again?)

The blob explodes in the real world. It's...it's disgusting.

It starts to vomit up all the people like No Face from Spirited away.

Marc sits there, covered in goo. "Well... That was a rough one."

Khonshu reflects. "I wonder if the effects of the change Maurice made to his body will ever come back around again? Can he be contained?"

The police hand cuff Maurice and put him in the cop car.

"It really goes to show how someone's hang-ups can govern everything about them." Marc reflects to Khonshu.

"Certainly a lesson well learned, Marc. For you, for me, for everyone."

"He may be a horrible guy, but I hope some of the work we Moon Knights put in within the collective's mind-state affected his worldview."

Oh thank you it’s over.

And I have reached my 30 image limit again so this is a great place to take a break and a breather before we head into the final countdown of BEMIS.

So this issue is a sort of filler. You see, it was a one off that has nothing to do with the over all arch. It’s designed to give us space between important plot issues so that we feel a sort of passing of time. We start with something that feels like it stands on it’s own. Then we get filler. Then we start what feels like a new plot but it always circles back around to that first issue.

Which means… Things are about to get really really bad.

This issue may feel kind of pointless and like a one off that had no meaning other than to play with the inner workings of MK’s mind… But it was done so badly.

We’ve seen a good rendition of how it’s done in MacKay. When people attack him mentally, his system does what it is supposed to do and acts as a protective force, often bringing great pain and downfall to the people that dare set foot in his mind.

We’re talking about a system that has worked HARD to build up such a force to fight these sorts of attacks that he’s practically immune to them.

Now THAT’S interesting. The idea of a collective hive mind trying to absorb his militarized mind is a fantastic story to tell! It’s exciting! Why? Because you should see HOW the system has learned to function together. How they protect one another. How much of a UNIT these guys are after all these years.

I also really hate that Bemis is trying to get psychological on us. Attempting to reference big names that honestly are so far out of date that he’s not even using them correctly anymore.

And seeing the way he writes, you get the feeling that he is pulling the “I know more than you” ego attitude and is prepared to fight/argue anyone that dares to try to disagree with his take.

Knowing how he has written things here, and seeing how he has handled Moon Knight’s D.I.D so far, this whole issue was just one big jab at their mental illness. It was supposed to be funny and action packed and get MEN (specifically men who read Chuck Palahniuk or who take the Punisher to be pro cops) to agree and get excited about the new edgy Moon Knight.

This isn’t where he’s supposed to be. The story isn’t supposed to go like this. The characters are all falling so short that I can’t wait to see them all leave again.

….We’re so close you guys. Just…Just a few more issues to go.

Part 4 HERE

#Moon Knight #Moon Knight comics #Analyzing the comics #BEMIS #Marc Spector #Jake Lockley #Steven Grant #I hated this with a burning passion #No one should have to read this #why is this a thing that happened to us #What did we do as fans to deserve Bemis?#Please... It's been torture

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fogwitchoftheevermore · 1 year ago

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ok i have been listening to those arg audio files all day ever since finding out about them and i might be totally off the mark on this one, but i'm hearing something slightly different than the transcript for "do you wish to take his place". the transcript has the crosstalk as being:

(Person 2:) Besides, it seems you forget about our former-- (Person 1: ) [shouting] That's impossible! [crosstalk begins] (Person 4: ) To insinuate there is any trace of their existence (Person 1: ) We raised their entire reality (Person 2: ) And yet I [perform? enforce?] my work-- [everyone's voices coalesce into one, overlapping echo.]

but what i'm hearing is:

(Person 2: ) Besides, it seems you forget about our former-- (Person 1: ) [shouting] That's impossible! [crosstalk begins] (Person 4: ) To insinuate there is any trace of their existence is an insult to my work. (Person 1: ) We razed their entire reality. I saw to it myself (Person 2: ) And yet- (Person ?: ) I would've foreseen it! [everyone's voices coalesce into one, overlapping echo.]

it's not that different. honestly it's so small that i might not have even bothered to mention it, but after mulling it over i think it genuinely could be important.

the first thing here is that i think that person 2's entire sentence in the crosstalk is just "and yet". this makes sense to me, as everyone else seems to be arguing against person 2's proposal, and it sounds like they were readying a comeback that got cut off. my only guesses as to who's saying "i would've foreseen it" are person 3, the only other voice we hear in this conversation, or someone else we haven't heard in either recording (i'm more inclined to believe it's person 3, it would be a weird choice to introduce someone new in one, spoken over line). i will say, take this part with a slight grain of salt, i'm not the best at identifying voices.

the second part, the part that seems most important to me, is the differences in what i’m hearing. the small ones are the adjustments to person 1’s dialogue, “i saw to it myself” and “razed” vs “raised” (this one may just be a typo in the original transcript rather than an actually different understanding, i’m not sure). this makes person 1’s dialogue about the world more violent- it would make sense they think these people must be gone if they personally saw to the destruction of their world. i think this also further supports the assertion that person 1 is the warrior. (should be noted that i ran this by a friend of mine who does audio transcripts as like, his thing, and he was the one that heard the "i saw to it myself" first. i totally missed that. ty @hermitdyke)

then there’s "i would've foreseen it" and "to insinuate there is any trace of their existence is an insult to my work". if that is what is being said, i think it gives us a few clues about who those two voices could be. the easy one here is the "foreseen it" voice- it would make perfect sense for that line to come from the seer. person 4's new sentence also gives potential hints to who that voice could be, though i don’t think it gives us information as concrete as we have with the warrior and the seer. (my guesses would be that person 4 is the historian or potentially the philosopher when you combine this sentence with the other stuff they say?).

ok that's my whole rant please do with this what you will multiverse arg fans.

#legundo #100 days multiverse #i would've put this in the discord but i'm Nervous about it

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sweettjrose · 1 year ago

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Detective Mickey Pilot P.6 (Finale)

It's done. It's finally done. Well actually not really. I still want to write an epilogue. But for the most part, it is done. And I think this is my favorite part of all. I want to thank everyone who has supported me. This was such a great writing experience and I learned so much. I can't believe this is my first completed fanfiction lol.

This won't be the last though. I have a couple more ideas set in the same world that I would love to explore.

I have a special treat that I hope to release alongside the epilogue. I also plan on sharing this story on my newly created AO3 account. Though, I plan to make a couple of edits when I do to make it a bit more consistent. Check it out when you get the chance.

Well that should be everything for now... Now it is time for the final part of the Detective Mickey Pilot...

Previous Part: X

Epilogue: X

Special Surprise:

Character Backstories - The Core Four: X

Character Backstories - The Sensational Side Characters: X

All Mickey could feel was pain. A throbbing nagging pain. He couldn’t really identify where it was coming from. It just felt like it was coming from… everywhere. He tried his best to open his eyes to see what looked like a… glove compartment? Is he in a car? Is it moving? He can’t tell. He groaned as an ache coursed through his head. Mickey could hear someone else talking but couldn’t catch everything they said. Something about a crash and a… tree. Ugh. It hurt to keep his eyes open. He quickly closed his eyes, unknowingly drifting back into unconsciousness. As Mickey opened his eyes once more, he caught sight of what looks to be… wood… the floor? But it was moving… Wait no… He is moving. He looked around and noticed he seemed to be carried by someone… No, not just someone. Him. The Phantom Blot being much larger was easily able to carry the mouse with just one arm wrapped around Mickey’s torso. Starting to finally get the bearings of what is going on, Mickey tried his best to struggle free, but found it difficult due to the pain still present in his body. His head really hurt.

The Phantom Blot chuckled at the mouse’s attempt. He joked about how it seems like his little friend is finally waking up. Maybe he’ll stay awake this time… Though not for long. Mickey squeaked out a plea for the man to let him go. Only for the man to click his tongue and mock the mouse. Saying that he can’t let him go now, he has something to show him. He’s really proud of it and is just dying to hear what the mouse thinks. Mickey tries to respond but another ache surges through his body and instead he just groans. The man chuckles at this and asks if the little mouse is still in pain. As he asks he gives a tight squeeze, further pressing into the mouse’s bruises and causing Mickey to yelp. He adds to not worry because the pain he feels now is going to be much pleasurable than the pain he will feel later. Eventually the Phantom Blot reaches a door and opens it with his other hand. Mickey tried his best to observe the room, but didn’t get much of a chance as the large man dropped him to the floor and started to tie him with rope. Mickey tried once more to break free, but unfortunately by the time his strength returned, he was already tied up.

The Blot then picks him up and places him on a tall stool and starts tying him to it. Mickey tries to ask what he is doing only for the other man to respond that it is a surprise and doesn’t want to spoil it yet. Mickey takes a deep huff and then asks if he could at least know what he is planning to do with the weapon. The Blot pauses for a bit, before taking out a candle from his cloak and starting tying it to the mouse's foot. He notes that since he might as well. I mean he does want to thank the mouse for finding the blueprint for him. Why if it wasn’t for him, he probably would have never known that what he was looking for was in that decrepit cabin. Before Mickey has a chance to process this, the Blot asks him if he was already aware about Jimmy Korker. Mickey answers him, much to the shadowy figure’s delight. Pleased to not waste additional time, He explains that the “weapon” Korker devised is some kind of “laser”. A laser that could shoot a very thin near invisible beam that could melt through nearly any material, and even deliver a devastating blast if used properly. The laser had a range of a couple of miles, allowing anyone to attack from a distance and be completely unnoticed. Mickey asks how the chemical is connected, and the Blot compliments him on the question, answering that the chemicals are what power the laser and contribute to the explosive effect. He adds that the Blueprints also contain the formula for the chemicals so that more could be made. With a couple of tweaks, he could use this weapon to steal even more valuable treasures that he was able to before. In addition, he knows a couple of very wealthy and powerful people who will pay very handsomely to have a huge advantage over their enemies. He could always use extra pocket change.

As he bellows out another of his infamous haunting laughter. He finishes tying the last knot and takes a step back. Gleefully asking the mouse what he thinks. As Mickey looks to observe what the villain has set up he sees that along to being tied facing upwards onto a tall stool, the Phantom Blot also tied a candle to his shoe with a thin string. Mickey follows the string to see it attached to a couple of circular hooks and eventually a trigger… for a gun… that is right above him… aimed right at his head. Swell. Mickey asks if the Phantom Blot even cares about all the harm he is going to cause. He is going to get so many people killed and all he can care about is money. He’s nothing but a heartless murderer. The Phantom Blot fakes being aghast at the comment and reminds the mouse that not once has he specifically gone after the mouse to kill him. If he remembers correctly during their first meeting he ever so kindly let the mouse go when he could have easily gotten rid of him on the spot. And even after the mouse somehow “escaped” his other traps, if he were to just return to his life and forget all this, he would have been left alone. It isn’t his fault that the mouse keeps getting in his way. He does have a love for money, yes, but he is not violent. Mickey refuses this explanation and brings up the death traps and the weapon. Aren’t those violent? The Phantom Blot responds, noting that he does not intend to use the weapon to kill and if any of his buyers do, that is out of his hands. Also these “death” traps are self defense. He is not attacking the mouse, even at this current moment. If the mouse chooses to move his foot to set off the trigger that is completely up to him but you know… “It is not my fault if you wish to commit suicide”

The Phantom Blot then politely asks the mouse to move his foot, so that he could test it and make sure it works. Mickey shouts at the man saying that this hair-brained scheme won’t work and he’ll escape this just as he escaped the others. This causes the Phantom Blot to snicker a bit further and use a lighter to light up the candle attached to the mouse’s foot. He then alerts the mouse that he has taken great measures to make sure that will not happen again. Something buzzes within the Phantom Blot’s cloak and he pulls his phone out and starts reading something. Mickey attempts to look at his phone, but unfortunately it is facing away from him… But what is that behind him? Mickey looks at one of the nearby windows and notices how reflective it is at the moment… Kind of like… a mirror. Mickey then tries his best to move his head a bit, careful to not move his foot, to see if he can pick up something before the Blot finishes his typing. It was tough but he finally was able to catch something readable… “-seton Doc-”. Only to be cut off as the Blot moves his phone back into his pocket. He apologies for the interruption and adds that is his cue to leave. The Phantom Blot laughs one more time as he carefully steps out of the room.

“Farewell my friend, I will admit that a small part of me will miss our interactions, but all things must come to an end. I wish you nothing but a warm welcome into the afterlife”

And with that the Blot closes the door, leaving the mouse alone in the room. Warm welcome huh… Warm… Hot… Hot! Mickey looked at the candle tied to his foot, which was already starting to heat up his foot. Hot! Hot! Mickey wanted so badly to kick and try to put out the flame, but he was quickly reminded about the gun hanging over him. Just one kick and he’s gone. Crap. Crap. How does he even get out of this? He barely has any time to think this time. Mickey frantically started looking all over the place, trying his best to avoid moving his foot and to ignore the growing searing heat. Come on. Something. Anything. Please. This can’t be the en… Wait! What is that near one of the legs? A hole? A hole! A hole he can use.. Mickey quickly starts to twist the stool he was tied to. Trying his best to get the stool closer. He could feel his body strain as he did his best to keep his leg straight, while twisting his body. But he had too. He didn’t have much time. The flame of the candle was unbearable and he didn’t know how much longer he could take it. Just a bit closer… Hot! Almost there… Ouch! Just one more turn and… Clunk!

In an instant the whole stool toppled over as one of the legs fell in. Bang! The gun instantly fires, but thankfully for Mickey he was moved out of the way just in time causing the bullet to race past him completely missing his head. Mickey toppled to the floor still attached to the stool with the candle still on his foot. Wait, the candle… It’s still lit. The mouse did his best to reorient his body in hopes of using the flame to try to free him from the stool. After a second of twisting himself in an awkward position the flame finally caught onto part of the rope freeing him from the stool. Hot Dog! Now for the rope tied around his body. Mickey tried his best to reorient himself to get the flame where he wanted it. But unfortunately this was a bit more of a chance. Instead he was just flopping his body across the floor, not getting close to what he wanted. Darn he isn’t flexible enough. I guess that is what he gets for not joining Clarabelle on her yoga sessions. Mickey continued to shuffle his body around. Trying to do anything that would help the flame get a little bit closer. But luck continued to not be on his side as instead the flame went out. Great just what he…

Cre-eak… Thump… Sch-Ting!

Minnie, Felicity, Morty, Ferdie, Goofy, Donald, Pluto, everyone, everything, his entire life… flashed before his eyes. It happened so fast. Mickey shook uncontrollably as he slowly turned to see… a giant knife literally inches… no, centimeters from his back. It cut the rope. But almost sliced him in half. The mouse stumbled out of the bench he landed on, still shaking. Luck… That was pure luck… If he would have just a bit more back he would have… Mickey closed his eyes and held onto the spotted bow tie around his neck. Taking deep breaths in hopes to calm himself down. When the Blot said he was going to make sure that the mouse dies he was not joking. Finally able to get a handle on some of the shaking, the mouse sluggishly walks through the room, keeping a very close eye on his surroundings. He saw that the room was filled with similar contraptions to the one he just fell in. Some with knives like the one that attacked him and a couple with axes. He looked up and noticed there was a trap door above each one. How long did it take for him to put this together? Did the Phantom Blot do this just for him? Mickey finally makes it to what appears to be an open staircase at the end of the room. He warily goes up the staircase, continuing to keep a close eye on his surroundings, and eventually reaches the top. As he looks around he sees a table, a chair, a large window, and a door. There seems to be a couple of things on the table.

Mickey slowly treks over to the table and spots his phone. He quickly grabs it and crosses his fingers, hoping it still works. And it does. What a life saver. However his phone wasn’t the only thing on the table. He also saw some kind of weird… remote? Mickey picked it up and looked at it closer. There was a gridlike screen at the top with a variety of different buttons towards the bottom. At the very top it read “The Portable Chemical Substance Position Locator Device”. Sheesh, what a name. Mickey turned the device around and noticed some kind of compartment he could open. He carefully lifts the lid and sees a small glass vial with a very familiar green liquid. Aha! So this is how the Phantom Blot is able to find these cameras after all these years. He must have been using this to help track them down, by tracking the chemical within them. Mickey quickly spots a name on the lid of the compartment “Egmont Labs”... Hm… Mickey starts to fiddle with the device as he heads over to the door. Why did he leave this behind? Did he forget it? Well he probably doesn’t need it anymore since he got the blueprint. But then why did he leave Mickey’s phone here? Something about this doesn’t feel… Mickey stopped himself before he could turn the handle… right.

A chill went up the mouse’s spine as he quickly remembered his near death experience. If the Phantom Blot is willing to set up dozens of trap doors in one room… What else is he willing to set up? Mickey instantly started to inspect the door. Just as he suspected there was a wire attached to the top right corner. Mickey traces the wire and discovers that it is attached to some kind of device. As Mickey inspects it further he realizes it looks a lot like a… bomb. Mickey’s heart stopped for a second. A bomb. Thank goodness he didn’t open the door. Mickey took a deep breath. Now what. He can’t open the door or the bomb will go off. Maybe he could try and defuse the bomb. He never really did it before. And he’s not sure if he really wants to learn through trial and error. Maybe he can cut the wire. But he has to make sure that won’t set it off either. Mickey gets the chair and stands on it, seeing if he can get a closer look at the bomb. That is when he notices that there is some kind of screen on it that reads 1:00… Huh, is that a clock… 0:59, 0:58, 0:57, wait no it is a timer counting down… Timer!?!? The bomb also has a timer. He had to get out of there. Fast. Mickey lept backwards out of the chair. What can he do? Opening the door will set it off. What can he… Wait. The Window. The mouse rushes over to the window, but quickly stops. Wait. What if there is a trap here too… 0:44, 0:43, 0:42. Mickey quickly investigates the window and sees that it is also connected to the bomb. If he were to try and open it the bomb would still go off. Darn it! Darn it all… 0:32, 0:31, 0:30… He has to hurry. He has to leave… NOW! A sudden idea popped into the mouse’s head. No time to think about it. Mickey quickly grabs the chair and throws it all the window creating a hole for him to escape. He hurdles himself out of the window landing right on his face, doing a quick somersault to get into a standing position quickly. And then he ran. He ran and ran and ran as if his life depended on it. And it did.

All of the sudden Mickey was forced forward as a large explosion went off behind him. The mouse was launched a couple of feet forward, straight into a tree. But thankfully the hit wasn’t bad enough to knock him out again. He made it. He just barely made it. He’s really getting sick of this. The mouse slowly rises to his feet, trying his best to ignore all the pain. The explosion alongside the car crash from before is really taking a toll on his body. Car crash. Car. Shoot where is his car? Mickey observed his new surroundings only to see nothing but large trees. He has absolutely no idea where he is. He looks at his phone and opens the maps app, but unfortunately the service is pretty bad… Great. Wait, maybe his new tool can help. Mickey pulls out the strange device and starts pressing buttons. One of the buttons he presses turns it on. Alright, now we are getting somewhere. After a couple more seconds of button-pressing, Mickey notices that a number on the bottom of the screen goes up and down when he presses a plus-shaped and minus-shaped key. The number is labeled as “range” on the screen. Oh maybe this must be what increases the range of the detector. Mickey presses the plus button a couple of times but as the number nears around 27000. It doesn’t go any higher. And nothing still seems to appear. Gosh, Mickey sure hoped it wasn’t broken. He could feel his heart start to drop. Until he suddenly heard a noise from behind him. Wait, that sounds like a… The mouse quickly starts to rush towards the noise. Trying his best to weave through the trees and bushes that surround him.

Eventually he finally comes across something. A road! What a sight for sore eyes. Mickey could already feel himself tear up. He must have heard a car pass by before and now he has something to get a better idea of where he is. Mickey looks at his phone again and notices that his signal seems to be flickering between 1 and 2 bars. It’s not a lot, but it is just enough. Alright, what does he need to do? He needs to get into a car. He could try walking, but he wouldn’t know where to walk and that could take hours. The Phantom Blot could already be gone by then. The mouse looks down both sides of the street, but doesn’t see anything coming either way. Wonderful. Wait maybe he can call a MUber. Mickey opens up the MUber app and starts checking if there are some nearby cars. Luckily he sees one that is about 10 minutes away. He would prefer not to have to wait 10 minutes, but he can’t be picky now. He uses the maps function to triangulate where he is and then gets ready to type in his destination. Wait. What is the destination? Rats. He doesn’t know where he is going. Mickey pauses for a second and thinks really hard. Trying to remember anything that would give him a clue. Oh yeah! He remembered reading that one part on Blot's phone… If he remembered correctly it was something like “-seton Doc-”. Well it is better than nothing, but it still isn’t much. Unfortunately it was a challenge to read and that was all he could see… “-seton Doc-”... Hmm. You know he really hopes it was referencing a location. I mean the “D” was capitalized so it was some kind of proper noun. It would also be nice if it happened to be near the construction site or at least the docks. That way he can… Wait a minute. Docks… Mouseton Docks. Hot Dog! That is where he must be. Mickey jumps with excitement and starts typing in the location on his phone. But before he could finish he realized he started to hear something. A Car. Another car was coming down. This was his chance. He turns on the flashlight on his phone and starts waving down the truck that was barreling past. And to his delight, the truck slows down and stops right in front of him. Mickey read the side of the truck “Joe Piper’s Friendly Plumbing”. Swell. He must be friendly.

The dognosed man in the car rolls down his windows and asks the mouse if he needs something. Mickey pleads with the dog saying that he needs to get to Mouseton Docks right now and he could really use his help. Really emphasizing how important this is and how many lives could be at stake. The dog didn’t seem fazed by the explanation and the second Mickey stopped talking, he instantly asked if Mickey had some money on him. Mickey lets him know that he doesn’t have money on him right now… which causes the dog to start rolling up his window… Mickey frantically adds that he does have Ravenmo and can send money through the app. This seems to stop the window from going up and Mickey could hear a click and a call from inside to get in. Mickey thanks him heavily, letting him know that he doesn’t know how much this means to him… Only for the man to interrupt and tell the mouse that he can thank him by sending money. The truck then starts up again and continues down the road, on its way to the Mouseton Docks.

As the two continue down the empty dark streets. Mickey started to refine a plan in his head. If the Phantom Blot is near the docks, he may be able to reuse an old plan of his. If he could get to the blueprint, he could knock out two birds with one stone as he can keep the paper away from the Blot and lead him right where he needs him. But how is he going to do that? The Phantom Blot is a master of stealth and would probably instantly notice him if Mickey tries to sneak around. What he needs is a… All of the sudden a flash of red catches Mickey’s eyes. He asks the other driver to stop, who takes a deep sigh and then complies. As he stops, Mickey tells the driver to wait and that he just needs to check something out. The dog tells him that this will cost extra, just as Mickey jumps out of the car and rushes to the red object. As he got closer he instantly recognized it. It’s his car! Oh Boy! Iit looks… completely totaled. The entire front of the car was entirely wrapped around a lone tree, while the back for the most part was still intact. This must be what he crashed into earlier. Mickey quickly debated about taking it on the way back, that way he could drive a bit faster, but decided against it as he was not sure if it would fall apart on the way. Mickey’s heart jumped… Someone was in the backseat of his car. The mouse instantly crouches out of sight and picks up a nearby stick. Who could possibly be in his crashed car? It wouldn’t make sense to be the Blot. He snuck over to the back car door and threw the door open asking the stranger to identify themselves. Oh. It was just the decoy Mickey he made a couple of days ago. Mickey took a heavy sigh, feeling a bit embarrassed. This day has been nothing but stressful for him. Mickey looked at the decoy. Huh it was pretty convincing. The mouse smiled. This may be the final piece he was missing.

Time passes and the truck stops once more. This time reaching the final destination. As Mickey jumps out of the car he presses the final button on his phone sending money over to the helpful, albeit very greedy, driver. He had to pay even more to get the driver to step on it, but it was worth it to get here quickly. Mickey pulls out something from the back of the truck as the man checks his phone to see if the money was received. Eventually he drives off, leaving the mouse alone next to the sign reading “The Mouseton Docks”. He’s here. As the mouse steps off of the grass to the concrete. He felt a buzzing in his pocket. It’s the Portable.. Uh Locator… The weird device he found. He takes it out and turns it on, noticing clusters of red dots on the screen. Ha! They must be the chemicals that the Blot has found. That must mean he is still here. This means Mickey’s plan could still work. The mouse starts rushing down the docks following the dots on the screen. He notices a small wagon near one of the nearby buildings and places what was in his hands onto the cart. Mickey then pulls the wagon down the docks, doing his best to move as quickly as he can without making much noise, and follows the direction of the red dots. It was in that second when a sudden thought occurred to Mickey. In order for his plan to work he’ll need to get the police right where he needed them and fast. He could call 911. But what is he going to say to get them here? I mean the police didn’t believe him before. They could come and leave before he needs them or not come at all and then he would be in real trouble… He needed something that would be strong enough to get them here and to stay… Or maybe he needed someone...

Mickey took a quick pause. He slowly pulled out his phone from his pocket and went to his contact list. His thumb hovered over the call button. Thoughts raced through his head on whether he should, but he didn’t have time. He had to make a decision now. And he trusts that this is the right one. He pressed the button. The phone rings once… twice… and then picks up.

“Listen, I know you don’t know how to feel about all this. I don’t know how to feel either. Things are really scary right now and there is so much that can go wrong. But that is when we need to have faith and keep moving forward. You are one of the strongest, bravest people I know and you have supported me countless times in the past. And now I need your support now more than ever. I hate to put you on the spot like this, but I don’t know what else to do… I need to have the police at the construction site where the parachuting school was going to be. I need them to stay there so I can lead the Phantom Blot to them. This is my final chance to stop him and I can’t do this alone. Please Minnie… I need your help”

…

“Alright Mickey. I’ll do my best”

Minnie hangs up the phone. She stayed up all night worrying about Mickey and now he’s in danger. She knew this was going to happen. This is why she didn’t want him to get involved. But maybe she supported him before, this wouldn’t have happened. Either way Mickey is counting on her and she can’t give up now. She gets out of her chair, waking the poor kitten on her lap, and starts running to her car. She immediately backs out of her parking lot and starts driving down the streets. Chief O’Hara is probably still home so she may want to stop by his place first. She needs to talk to him. Face to face. As she makes her way over to O’Hara’s house she clocks the Mouston Argus building outside her window. Hmm… After she talks to O’Hara, she may want to make a couple of phone calls. Eventually Minnie makes it to his house and starts banging on the door. It takes a bit, but eventually a tired Chief O’Hara opens the door and stumbles out. He greets her, but then reminds her how early it is, but is interrupted as Minnie instantly tells him that Mickey is in danger and how he needs his help. O’Hara gives a confused look asking her to elaborate. She explains how Mickey is currently leading a very dangerous criminal to a construction site and needs the entire police force there to support him. O’Hara wonders if that was the thing Mickey came up to him before and mentions that he just thinks Mickey needed some rest. Only for Minnie to harshly reprimand him shouting that no Mickey didn’t need some rest. He was telling the truth and if they don’t hurry the Phantom Blot will kill him.

The Phantom Blot. This seems to catch the Chief's attention as he pauses for a second and then asks Minnie if she is sure that it is the Phantom Blot. Frustrated, Minnie yells that yes it is the Phantom Blot. She knows Mickey and Mickey doesn’t lie about stuff like this. He wouldn’t hurt himself over nothing. He wouldn’t just make a fool of himself over nothing and the Chief should know this as well. He knew Mickey nearly his entire life as a neighbor and knows the kind of person Mickey is. She doesn’t know why in the world he pushed away Mickey before. Mickey looks up to him and sees him as a father figure and yet when he needed help he was ignored by someone he thought he could trust. And now he is all alone. Tears started to form at the corner of Minnie’s eyes. She knew this talk was just as much about her as it was about the Chief. The Chief gave a solemn thoughtful expression. He tries to say something, but stumbles over his words. Minnie looks at him one more time, this time letting the tears pour down.

“Please Chief O'Hara, I am begging you. We have to help him!”

…

The shadowy figure places the final box onto the pearly black speed boat. That should be everything. Though it would not hurt to do a final walkthrough. He meticulously surveys the rest of the warehouse. Keeping an eye out for any remaining items of his. Afterall he would prefer not to come back to this dreadful town. He hated every moment he was here and it was not just because of that bothersome rodent. Mouseton lacked the glamor and elegance that he was much more attuned to. But it was a decent distraction to keep his mind off of… things. A distraction that will pay off with a couple extra billions in his pocket. Besides, there is no point in complaining. The job is finally done and he can finally fly off into the night, free from any punishment for his crimes, as to be expected. Hm. He wondered if the mouse had been killed yet. He enjoyed by toying with the little rodent at first, but lately his "appearances" are starting to grate on his nerves. His newfound "bravery" was making him less fun to play with. It was a miracle that the mouse managed to “escape” his previous ingenious traps. Probably just the result of dumb luck. But he made some extra special accommodations to his newest one that should finally finish the job. That rat is as good as dead. The cloaked man took a glance at a table he used for scheming and noticed that the blueprint was still there. Ah yes, he definitely would not want to leave that behind. It is the main reason he came to this insignificant garbage pile. He gracefully glides towards the table and is just about to pick it up, until…

“Stop you thief!”

The Mouse… How? The Phantom Blot didn’t even have to look to know it was him again. He could recognize that irritating voice. Why can’t that thing just die? He growls back warning the mouse that he is no longer finding these interactions cute anymore. In fact he is getting really sick of seeing him. The mouse responds telling him that he will never get away with this. The Phantom Blot heavily rolled his eyes. He tells the mouse that he already used that line. Ugh. The mouse is running out of things to say and he is running out of patience. This has gone on for far too long and perhaps it is time to finally end it… once and for all! And with that the Blot leaps towards the source of the voice with his lightning speed. Moving so rapidly that there was no way the mouse could escape him. He then grabs the mouse up by his neck and raises him up. Or at least he thought he did, when he suddenly realized that the mouse didn’t have a neck. In fact his head was made up of a balloon with two paper plates for ears. What is this madness? All of the sudden the Blot heard something coming from the middle of whatever he was holding “Stop it you thief!”. A recording? A trick. He has been tricked. He instantly turns around and catches what seems to be the real mouse holding the blueprint in his hand. The mouse looks at him and then starts darting away. How did he… That idiotic little… ARGHH… THAT IS IT… I HAVE HAD IT...

“I AM GOING TO KILL YOU, RAT!”

…

Run. Run. RUN. Mickey rockets down the docks, holding onto the blueprint as tightly as he can. The Phantom Blot seemed somewhat playful in their previous encounters, but now he sounds absolutely furious. But he won’t stop. He can’t stop. He is so close and he can’t give up now.. Mickey takes a quick glance at his cloaked pursuer who was barrelling towards him with accelerating speed. Shoot, he has really long legs. Thankfully the little mouse was pretty speedy too, but the haunting figure was starting to catch up. He needs a way to slow him down. That is when the Mouse saw a ship yard. Aha! Just what he needs. The mouse hopped over the fence and started to weave through the boats, using his small size to his advantage to squeeze through small spaces. He looked back. It was working, The Phantom Blot was struggling to get through the boats as swiftly as he was. In fact Mickey actually needed to slow down a bit and make sure he was still visible to the other man. He just wanted to slow the Blot down, not completely get rid of him. The mouse continued to slip through the boats ultimately reaching the end of the yard. He jumps another fence, now landing in a yard full of sea planes. The planes were a little bit more spread out than the boats, but he should still have the distance from the Blot he needs to make it to his destination. He starts veering towards the wooden fence surrounding the yard, getting ready to jump again if needed. As the mouse continues to race forward he looks behind him once more. However, as he turned his head he realized that the Phantom Blot was nowhere to be found. Shoot. He didn’t lose him did he. The mouse instantly halted and turned around. Oh No, where is he? This plan doesn’t work if he isn’t here. The mouse debates whether he should go back until…

“I HAVE YOU NOW PEST!”

The Phantom Blot breaks through the fence and surges straight towards the mouse. Wood explodes everywhere as the Blot starts viciously swinging his arms in an attempt to grab him. Mickey could feel his heart freeze in place, but his flight instincts kick in and he does his best to dodge the man’s violent hands. The mouse jumps through one arm and slides under the other. Almost making it out, but the villain grabs his tail and drags the mouse towards him, sending a sharp pain up the mouse’s spine. The Phantom Blot then grabs the mouse’s arms and starts to yank him upwards. But Mickey quickly manages to lurch up, grabs the man’s arm, and takes a large bite. The Blot shouts in pain and drops the mouse. Giving Mickey enough time to run through the hole he created and continue to run through the docks. Mickey ran, and he ran, and he ran. This time a bit too afraid to look back at the raging force roaring behind him. Finally the mouse sees it. The construction site. He made it. The mouse took a hard turn and flew open the gate. He bolted to a nearby ladder and instantly started climbing. As he made it halfway up the ladder, he heard a large pounding underneath him. The mouse takes a quick look and spots the Phantom Blot coming up after him, his cold white eyes now blinding with fury. The Blot roars out to Mickey, exclaiming how once he catches that mouse he’s going to tear him limb from limb. Mickey mocked the man, noting how he is starting to lose his cool and gain quite a bit of a temper. This only seems to upset the cloaked man further causing him to climb even faster.

Eventually the mouse reaches the top and starts racing down one of the beams only for the Blot to closely follow him after. The mouse turned, lept, slid, climbed, and raced all over the site, with the furious phantom chasing him closely from behind. Eventually, the mouse approached what seemed to be a dead end as there was a wrecking ball blocking the way. He could hear the villain behind him cackle.

“RUNNING OUT OF PLACES TO RUN LITTLE MOUSE?”

“That’s what you think”

Mickey then bounced onto the wrecking ball using the momentum of his running to then launch himself on an upwards beam. This happened so quickly that the distracted Phantom Blot didn’t have time to stop himself and instead ran right into the wrecking ball. Mickey had to stop himself from laughing, but couldn’t stop himself from gloating.

“Still think I’m a pathetic little mouse”

The Phantom Blot seethed with fury. He is going to decimate this mouse. As Mickey starts to rush away again, the Phantom Blot pushes the wrecking ball back with inhuman strength, enough for the ball to move back a couple of feet, hitting a tool box, causing the tools to fall down on the controls of the crane. He then bolted down the beam heading to a nearby ladder that should get him closer to that miserable rodent. He continued to race forward until he realized that he was not moving anymore. Something is caught on his left foot. What is…

Before he even had a chance to process, the Phantom Blot was hauled backwards. Blinded from his frustration, he didn’t notice that he got his foot stuck in a snare earlier. He tried his best to hold onto something, but was moving so fast he couldn’t get a grasp of anything. As the Phantom Blot flew through the air, swinging back and forth, his arms, his legs, everything started to get wrapped up in ropes that were purposely placed to latch on to him as he swung by. He tried to struggle, but that only made the situation worse as the ropes tightened. Eventually the swinging stopped, revealing the Blot to be stuck in some kind of web of ropes. He tried his best to move, but found it challenging due to his limbs being so spread out. Impossible. Unthinkable. There is absolutely no way he could be bested by that… that…

“How’s that for a trap? Did I use the correct knot this time?”

Mickey couldn’t stop himself from smiling as the man growled with rage. He did it. He actually did it. He did the unimaginable. He caught the Phantom Blot. He actually caught him. Mickey shook himself from his thoughts. He can’t celebrate too early. The Blot can still escape which is why he needs some help to apprehend him. Mickey starts running down the beam until there was none of the beam left. He looked out. Minnie should have been here with the police by now and with the sun finally rising it should be easier to spot them. He looked. And he looked. And he looked… And he saw nothing… Nothing… Not one soul. Shoot, did Minnie fail? Maybe they were running late? What if they went to the wrong place? Oh no no no… What is he going to do now? He doesn’t know how much longer he has. He quickly takes out his phone and opens up the call app. But before he has a chance to do anything the mouse is suddenly turned around and jerked upwards with a vicious grip pressing into his neck, causing him to drop his phone. He was met with searing white eyes that pierced through his core. The pure animosity within them burned into the mouse’s brain, leaving him completely in shock. The only thing slightly breaking him out of it being the venomous “you…” emerging from the pitch black monster raising him up.

“Did you really think you could outwit me, mouse? Do you not know who I am? I AM THE MOST POWERFUL CRIMINAL MASTERMIND IN THE WORLD. I AM THE PHANTOM BLOT!”

The Phantom Blot roars with villainous laughter, the echoes shaking the entire construction site. The malicious anger he had now warped into a sociopathic joy. He then snatches the paper away from Mickey with one hand and tightens his grip around the mouse’s throat with the other. Mickey could already feel himself starting to black out with the lack of air. He can’t even process what is going on. He can’t say anything. He… He…

“I would not be upset, little mouse. This was bound to happen. You were never going to win. You were just biding your time until your eventual failure… Well the little game is over now and it looks like things are finally… Falling… into place”

The Phantom Blot roughly lifts the mouse over the edge and forces the mouse to observe the sharp pieces of metal and glass protruding from the ground right below. Sharpened and waiting for a victim to fall in and be shredded to pieces. He shuddered and turned his eyes back to the Blot who was basking in the mouse’s terror and further strengthening his grip.

“Fortunately for you, I still have my ‘soft-heart’. So I will grant you one last kindness… Any last words before I snap your neck and leave you plummeting to your death”

Before Mickey could respond he noticed something coming up behind the Blot. Something Big. Something Round. Something… Fast! He tried his best to lift his arm to point behind the Blot and wiggle his throat free to shout…

“LOOK OUT!”

“Ha! Do you really think that is going to-”

Smack! In an instant, the two men are carried off into the air being propelled forward by a giant wrecking ball. The wrecking ball swings them around 180 degrees and launches both of them into the sky. They fly in the air for a couple of seconds before crashing into some kind of wall, with the Blot’s head specifically hitting onto something. After a quick pause the two bodies start to slide down the wall, until they are both in free fall. Mickey, finally awake to what is happening, realizes he needs to do something to improve his situation. Seeing the massive body also falling underneath him. Mickey does his best to try and swim through the air to get right above it. As the mouse flounders through the air, the both of them get closer… and closer… and closer… and… Thud! The Phantom Blot lands face first into the ground. Plop! Mickey Mouse lands right on top of him. Flash! Two very bright lights turn on illuminating the two men. Gasp! A crowd is left at complete awe of what is in front of them. Mickey picks himself up and instinctually closes his eyes due to the sudden brightness, but then slowly opens them, letting them adjust to the new lighting. He looked at his surroundings… Are those people? The police? He could hear some kind of mumbling and whispers as the crowd of people continued to stare at him. But that mumbling was soon interrupted by a large groan coming from the body underneath him. The mouse instantly looked at the source of the noise and realized who he was sitting on top of… The Phantom Blot… Is he? Mickey’s heart stopped for a second, until he felt a small rise and drop from being on his back. Seems like he just got knocked out cold. Ha. Now he knows how it feels. Mickey quickly notices something in the Blot’s hand. The Blueprint. The mouse stumbles over and quickly snatches the paper. Pleased it is finally back into good hands. As Mickey tries his best to get off the man, he is quickly tackled down by a small figure.

“MICKEY!!!”

Minnie holds tightly onto him, covering his face in kisses. She holds him in a deep hug and starts rambling about how she is so glad to see him and how she wasn’t sure if he was alive or if he was coming and how she heard terrifying laughter and... Mickey returns the embrace. He tells her how glad he is to see her too! He kept his promise.Over her shoulder, Mickey has a better chance to view the other people. However just as he started to observe the crowd the crowd came over quickly to observe him. Instantly a bunch of reporters started shoving microphones into the mouse’s face asking a million questions a second about who he was and how he managed to catch the Phantom Blot. Mickey completely froze like a deer in headlights. Not knowing what to do at all. Thankfully Chief O’Hara saved him and told the crowd to back off a bit, leading Mickey to a less crowded spot. Mickey couldn’t believe his eyes. O’Hara. He really came. O’Hara instantly apologizes. Explaining how he let Mickey down and made him do something dangerous all on his own. He should have listened to him. Mickey tells him not to worry about it and that he is here now. O’Hara smiles and then praises Mickey. Who knew that you would be the one to catch the Phantom Blot. THE Phantom Blot.

“Why can you imagine if we had you on our detective team? Why there wouldn’t be any crime left in Mouseton”

Before Mickey even has a chance to process that statement, O’Hara raises his arms and asks the crowd to give three cheers for Mickey Mouse. Hip Hip Hooray! Hip Hip Hooray! Hip Hip Hooray! Mickey looks out at the crowd cheering for him. Still holding a very flustered expression. He feels like he should be feeling good. I mean he did finally catch one of the world’s most evil criminal masterminds. A man who has never been caught before. Or at least he thinks he did. All those hours he spent chasing, running, and escaping are finally vindicated. And now people are actually acknowledging his accomplishments. This should be the moment where he finally feels the most at peace… And yet… He felt empty. This moment… It feels fake. Maybe he’s just tired. To be honest he’s more excited about the chance to go to sleep, than he is about the praise. As his eyes wander over the crowd singing his praises, taking pictures, and asking for an interview. He catches a glimpse of… Him. A couple of police officers seem to be leading the Phantom Blot to the back of a police car. From the mouse’s view it seems like the Blot is still knocked out from the fall, as they are essentially carrying him. Though just as he thought that, the mouse noticed something… His fingers… They moved. He’s waking up. Mickey quickly looked away. Finally starting to understand what he was feeling. This isn’t the end…

This is just the beginning.

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oceanmusings · 1 year ago

Text

shipuary day 01 | prisma x shadowheart

Masterlist : link

Summary : Shadowheart changed her look. Prisma is all for it.

Warning : spoilers to beginning of act 3

Prisma’s body was sore. Fighting monks were horrendous and something she didn’t want to be at the end of if she could help it. It made her think about the mercenaries she had crossed before with her old friends before this group, the monk being the hand behind getting information from the mercenaries. Prisma made a mental note to send a letter to her old friend to check in with them, hoping she could survive long enough with this tadpole in her head and fighting a giant damn brain so she could see her old friends.

The elf had a hard time going into her trance, but even when she was up with the sun did the elf not feel any better. Her, Astarion, and Halsin were usually the ones up first before anyone else but neither said anything to each other. Astarion reading a book and Halsin going out for a walk. Prisma decided to do her usual routine to go get some herbs and see what other things she could scavenge for Gale to use in the morning.

When Prisma made her way back is when camp was beginning to wake up more. She gave Gale what she could find - accepting the warm buttered bread he gave her to hold her off until he was done - she walked through camp to see how everyone was doing.

“Hey, Soldier!” Karlach greeted Prisma, “did you see Shadowheart’s new look? She looks like gold!”

“What?” The woof-elf raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, Soldier. You should go say hi to your girlfriend then.” Karlach had on a wicked grin on the tieflings face that made Prisma’s stomach uneasy. She really didn’t want to be teased by Karlach from how Shadowheart affects her. She already heard enough from her, Lae, and Astarion.

Prisma turned from the large tiefling to make her way to Shadowheart’s tent - which wasn’t far - and quickly saw what Karlach was talking about.

Shadowheart was sitting on the ground facing a mirror, brushing through her hair to be able to put it up in a ponytail. But her hair wasn’t the usual jet black hair, it was titanium white.

Prisma stood there for a moment to watch Shadowheart place the head piece on her hair, pinning it in place, and beginning to braid it. Slowly Prisma’s legs listened to her command and made the rest of the way over. Shadowheart looked up when she heard her lover make her way over. “Oh, morning.” Shadowheart greeted as she finished the braid, tying it off at the end. “Be honest. What do you think of the new look?”

Shadowheart looked a little nervous, watching Prisma intently for any micro reactions. It was like Prisma’s mind had gone blank as she looked at the half-elf she loves so dearly, nothing but pride blooming in her chest. She was so different from the person when Prisma first met her and couldn’t help but feel so proud of her and honored to see her true self start to bloom.

“You look gorgeous! I love it!” Prisma got down to her level and cupped her cheek softly, brushing her thumb across the apple of her cheeks. “Gods- I didn’t think you could look any better.”

“Stop.” Shadowheart whined. “I’m glad someone likes it. I’m still trying to get used to it. I have a lot to get used to.”

“I get that, but know I’m proud of you.” Softly she pressed a kiss to her cheek, warming her insides as she felt Shadowheart smile at the action. “A lot has happened in the span of like… a tenday? God’s I’ve lost track of time. But nonetheless, I am still proud of you”

“Thank you.” Shadowheart says in a soft tone, taking a moment to look into Prisma’s purple eyes. A look in the wood-elf’s eyes was something foreign Shadowheart hasn’t seen in so long, it was hard to identify. But it caused her whole body to go warm. Maybe having her around would make processing everything more easier.

#original female character #original character #dnd character : prisma #prisma x shadowheart #bg3 #shadowheart x oc #bg3 shadowheart #bg3 oc #bg3 tav #shadowheart fluff #shadowheart one-shot #shadowheart x tav #bg3 one shot #bg3 fluff #shipuary #shipuary 2024

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hearth4days · 1 year ago

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The symbolism of flowers in Zoyism

Because idfk it scratches my brain Chronological order

Moths and Mayflies

I only include this one because I interpret it to be about pre-Zoy Frannie. A main theme in this song is fireworks, which translates in Japanese to hanabi, or fire-flower. If you've read my other metas, you know fire is a common theme tying to Zoy, and the deleted PV shows a whole lot of dog imagery, also obviously a Zoy thing. Little bit of a stretch but paired with the rest yk

Wedding Festival

No lyrical mentions of flowers, so any specific kinds would be a rough estimate. The red ones raining down on Zoy are especially hard to identify, but camellias (symbolizing a noble death and love), crysanthemums (love), and carnations (affection, loyalty, mourning) are commonly used in Japanese weddings and seem to look close enough. The rest seems to be a cluster of flowers I won't be able to dive too deep into, but I recognize lillies (rebirth, purity, royalty), and maybe lavender (purity, silence, devotion). These seem to line up with the themes surrounding their wedding/Ote's conception based on what we hear of the event from other songs and this one; Frannie is sort of sent as a sacrificial bride to Zoy who rapes her right off the bat because of his Beastly Nature or whatever

Want to be Cremated

This one does have flower mentions :D Still nothing specific, but literally I am telling you there are flowers in every plot relevant song. Other than the one line/bouquet, we see orange petals blow past several times. My best guess is crysanthemums are being used here again in both cases. The petals are the only ones that look similar I can find with any significant meaning in Japanese culture, orange representing honesty (also the sun?? not relevant here, but *points at Ito*), which would work well with this being our only song we really hear anything about how Zoy feels about his place in the cult and his confliction about himself and his actions. On the other hand, white crysanthemums (note the white lineart on his flowers) are often used in funerals and to decorate graves. These flowers also represent perfection, which could add more to the impression that Zoy is seen as a god despite his (many) shortcomings

Christ

Spider lillies :) I think most people know these ones, but they symbolize death, abandonment, and loss. I like this one here because the song is full of discussion of birth and the creation of life, but I think these belong here because of Ote's perceived abandonment by god/Zoy and his mother, whether that be when they died or when he was conceived in the first place. There's also fireworks of course

And of course the most explicitly flower coded bitch of them all

Dear Suns

There's no visuals for this one I just need someone besides me to acknowledge his little chained collar here hello can anyone hear me. Anyway, Ito is specifically referred to as a kerria, or Japanese rose. It symbolizes wealth and prosperity, which I think makes sense when you take into account that he's essentially their cult's little hitman. But I also find it funny that it apparently aids digestion. Eat up bbg. One of my sources also notes that it grows best in sunny weather (spring/summer), and it resembles the crysanthemum. Inchresting

Flower War

Best for last

We're gonna set aside comparisons to the flower wars of actual history, because I still haven't gotten around to that meta yet

The title is an obvious sign, Ito being a soldier for his cult. We get several little flowers throughout aside from title/lyrical mentions of flowers though. For example, I'm gonna assume that first flower is a kerria. It looks close enough to certain subsets of them, and it would obviously work with it being Ito. I can't pick out the next two off the top of my head, sadly I know very little about IDing flowers. The fourth, however, is a carnation I'm fairly certain. It's split between red (again, deep love and affection), and yellow (rejection, disappointment). Good shit when you note that the middle two flowers have yellow leaking in as he's dying where they were all red before. Ito died questioning his life's purpose teehee <33

Idk no real point to this I just find it very interesting how much flowers are a theme in this plot, and this is just looking at songs I have solid evidence for being involved

#hearth's mantle breakdowns #vocaloid bullshit

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forgotten-contract · 1 year ago

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SEXUAL PREFERENCES !

BOLD — applies always / very often.

Italic — applies less often / sometimes.

strike out — never applies / hard no.

Tagging: I don't have anyone to tag who didn't tag me already LOL

Do Note; Technically Silvaire will do everything on this list if a contract commands him to do so! This is in the context of his personal preference!

--- For ease of reading I'm deleting anything that doesn't fall into the 3 categories. (Full version for someone to fill will be in a readmore)

Inclination / Habits:

is submissive | is dominant | --- | likes to switch | --- | identifies as demisexual | identifies as asexual (gray) | --- | enjoys sex with any sex / gender | enjoys sex with multiple people at once | initiates | waits for partner to initiate | spits | swallows | --- | prefers sex at night | will have sex anytime |--- | low sex drive | --- |

Body / Appearance:

--- | medium build / athletic build | --- | wears boxers/comfortable underwear | wears briefs | wears lingerie (AND WE SUPPORT HIM LET HIM BE COMFY IN HIS SKIN) | goes ‘commando’ | --- | manscapes / doesn’t shave (Cosmetic / Cleanly Not wholly bare)| -- | --9″ in length | ---

Sounds:

--- | is very quiet | is very loud | grows in volume over time | bites hand / partner to muffle themselves | calls out partner’s name | curses | growls | fakes / exaggerates | --- | prefers a responsive partner | no preference towards partner’s volume | is turned on by dirty talk | is turned off by dirty talk. (Dependant on type)

Turn Ons: (Due note that Sil's relationship with Sexuality is Not Good. A fair deal of these are triggers for that reason; those triggers not striken out are ones he would be willing to explore in a safe environment)

having their hands pinned | pinning their partner’s hands | having their hair pulled | pulling their partner’s hair | being watched ( by their partner ) | being watched ( by a third party ) | watching their partner | receiving oral | giving oral | calling their partner ‘daddy’ | being called ‘daddy’(playful banter not seriously) | calling their partner ‘mommy’ | Any variation of 'Ownership/Serving relationship | giving praise | receiving praise | biting / marking | being bitten / marked | spanking | being spanked | teasing | being teased | having toys used on them | using toys on their partner | giving anal | receiving anal | choking | being choked | dirty talk | being tied up | tying their partner up | being worshiped | worshiping their partner | humiliating | being humiliated | degrading | being degraded | being pegged | --- | being edged | edging | age gap (See below)| anonymous sex | blood play | breeding | chastity devices | clothed / partially clothed | condoms | deep - throating | gun play | intercrural/thighjob sex | knife play | lingerie | nipple play | orgasm denial | overstimulation | pregnancy | prostate milking | public sex | rimming | roleplay | Being called Master | calling partner Master/Mistress | sadism / masochism (Literal voidsent) | size difference (He's 7'6 so-) | somnophilia (if fully consenting and communicated, not towards himself) | ---

Age gap: He's a millenia+ years old with multiple lifetimes. If someone isn't of age and fully cognizant of what is expect then, No.

Places: (Private over Public; Will do so with trusted partner)

--- | alleyway | bath | --- | bedroom | --- | car | cathedral / church | cemetery | closet | --- | elevator | --- | --- | forest | --- | home bathroom | --- | kitchen | --- | pool | public bathroom | rooftop | school | sex club | shower| tent | terrace | train | workplace | in a putrid swamp, next to the well full of dead bodies

[[A complicated fellow! But loved all the same!]]

Inclination / Habits:

Body / Appearance:

Sounds:

Turn Ons:

Places:

#sinday #tw: sex mention #[[I love this dude but GOD does he have so many problems when it comes to sexuality]]#[[Poor sil]]#[[he's just gotta get treated well]]

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blatantescapism · 1 year ago

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A thing I love about my PT is that she is very conscientious about consent and clear communication. She recognizes that someone’s needs can change from appointment to appointment, and within a single session things can suddenly flip from “this is helpful” to “actually no, stop”. She always asks at the start of a session what my priorities are, does a check-in before switching techniques, and makes sure to listen to my feedback during an exercise and adjust as needed.

Tying into that, she has a wide range of techniques in her toolkit, and different levels of intensity for each. So she can quickly find work-arounds for any particular limitations.

So my general advice when interviewing a potential PT is to take note of:

Trustworthiness

(how well they communicate, how proactive they are about safety, and how respectful they are of both your mind and body)

and Knowledge

(experience with similar cases, strong familiarity with the underlying root mechanics, enthusiasm to research anything they don’t know, willingness to consider alternate theories)

@trans-axolotl In your particular case, a good quality PT should immediately take your fall risk seriously.

They should:

1.) recommend exercises where your body is safely supported

2.) work with you to make sure that their office is accessible to you, physically rearranging the space if necessary

3.) take precautions both to prevent falling in the first place, but also to reduce the harm if you actually do fall

4.) work with you to develop a firm understanding of your body’s signals. Your goal is to identify and communicate how an exercise makes you feel while you are actively doing it, immediately after you stop doing it, and the day afterwards. Your PT should tailor your program based on your feedback.

5.) have some surprisingly small movements and adjustments. Focus on strengthening specific muscle sets precisely, putting minimal strain on the rest of your system. Know how different areas are interconnected, and treat the whole chain, not just the endpoint.

6.) design your typical session to include brief rests and gentle passive stretches. Consider what length and frequency of appointments will give you the most benefit.

7.) Make sure you always leave with enough mental and physical energy to get home safely.

also it's likely i'm going to get referred to physical therapy this week and would love to hear any tips people have about what to look for in a good physical therapist, red flags, what to expect, etc.

for context, i'm having a lot of neurological issues, muscle weakness, tremors, and falls, all which are impacting my mobility. also dealing with post exertional fatigue and trying to manage that. what i'm wanting to get out of physical therapy is anything that helps strengthen muscles, improve stability, improve mobility. don't have any chronic pain so not worried about exacerbating that.

so yeah. would love to hear any thoughts or reccomendations bc i hate going into doctors appointments feeling uninformed

#pt #physical therapy #finding a good pt #finding good medical care #chronic illness #medical ethics

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matryosika · 3 years ago

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[23:57 p.m.] hyunjin, jeongin, beomgyu x reader, sensory deprivation, bondage, nipple play, hand/fingers kink, dirty talk, use of petnames.

note – sharing is caring. this is the first fic that features someone outside of the usual so i hope everyone it's okay with it. i like the idea a lot!

“come on, princess,” hyunjin tsked, the sound of his voice making you turn your head around in hopes to identify where it was coming from, “you are letting me down”.

“i thought you said she was well trained,” beomgyu mumbled, the way his words sounded made you think he had a smirk plastered on his face.

“maybe she just likes being touched,” jeongin's voice sounded, his figure so close to yours that you even felt his breath caressing your shoulder, “doesn't matter who does it”.

a pair of fingers trailed the sides of your naked body, your skin automatically getting covered in goosebumps at the simple action and you couldn't help but fight the ropes that were tying both of your wrists together.

“beomgyu?” you queried with a broken voice, your whole body shaking in anticipation while your nipples hardened under his touch.

he didn't say a word but, instead, turned around with a smirk to face hyunjin, who was standing right behind him with his arms crossed.

“you can recognize his touch but not mine?” hyunjin scoffed, walking from his previous position all the way to yours.

you felt the bed's weight shifting a little bit once hyunjin sat down next to you on it and then a little bit more once the other two men approached you as well.

“hyune, i-” you murmured, the feeling of being blindfolded, tied up to your boyfriend's bed and with your legs spread for him and his two best friends embarrassed as much as it turned you on, “i am trying”.

“you are not trying hard enough, princess,” he hissed, his slim fingers caressing your cheeks.

it was something innocent, that he had caught you staring at jeongin's and beomgyu's hands the night before when you were invited to have dinner with him and his friends. however, as the night progressed, he started to notice how you squeezed your thighs together every time your gaze diverted from him to his friends' hands and that... that really riled him up.

“maybe if you take off the blindfold-”

“it's a punishment,” hyunjin interrupted while a pair of hands started to tease your nipples and belly. whose hands? you really didn't know, but you were enjoying it anyways. “you didn't really think you could get away with the little act you were doing yesterday at the restaurant, did you?”

you heard a faint laugh. or laughs.

it was definitely beomgyu, but you wondered if jeongin was laughing as well.

“my pretty innocent princess doesn't know how to behave in public,” hyunjin continued, his warm breath tickling against your neck, “staring at both jeongin's and beomgyu's hands while you rubbed your thighs together like a pathetic bunny in heat”.

“i am sorry,” you cried, your head falling back as you felt another pair of hands caressing your thigs and hips, “it wasn't my fault it's just-”

“so it was their fault then?” he questioned you with a severe tone, “is it their fault that you are so needy to the point of getting turned on just by the sight of some pretty hands?”.

“no, no, i-” you shook your head desperately, your hips bucking against nothing while you tried to get even the slightest stimulation on your dripping cunt, “i am sorry, fuck-”.

even though hyunjin was having fun, deep down he was a raging ball of jealousy.

he didn't like the fact that you looked at someone else in that way, let alone that you failed to identify his touch over his friends'.

“let's go again, shall we?” he queried, placing a small kiss on your forehead. “you are going to have some fingers fucking your mouth” he breathed, his digits caressing your lips, “some others fucking your cunt,” his fingers drsgged from your mouth to your chest, the tip of them teasing your hardened buds without actually touching them or pinching them like you needed him to, forcing you to arch your back and earning a sinful moan out of you, “and some others fucking your ass”.

it was at that point where your whole body couldn't help but tremble under all 3 of them, the wetness between your thighs increasing as you felt their warm bodies approaching you even closer.

“just have to know which ones are mine,” your boyfriend instructed you with a smile on his face, “easy, right?”

#stray kids smut #skz smut #kpop smut #hyunjin smut #jeongin smut

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ashesandhackles · 4 years ago

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The Abandoned Boy And His Problematic Fathers: Snape with Voldemort & Dumbledore

"He and Voldemort and Snape, the abandoned boys, all found home here..” - Forest Again, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows

This comparison line of Harry, Snape and Voldemort being abandoned boys is not an accident. There is an intentional parallel being made between three of them - not only in terms of their parallels with the Hallows (as Tumblr has astutely pointed out), but also the commonalities in their upbringing. Given that Harry empathises so deeply with both of them, I am going to argue one of Harry’s attributes was present in all of them. We know that as an abandoned boy with lack of male authority figures to model after, Harry strongly craved a father. Here is a meta by u/metametatron4 that tracks Harry’s feelings about James (and Snape) through the series.

In Voldemort’s case, Tom believes his father to be the magical one and keeps his father’s name until he could no longer prove that it was his father who gave him his “special” lineage. He goes as far as searching Hogwarts records for his father because in his mind, his mother was “weak” to die. Once he is forced to concede that his mother is the magical one, he chooses to emphasise her ancestry in a paternal sense - “Salazar Slytherin, greatest of Hogwarts four”, tying himself up in grandeur. He also killed his father and his own paternal side of the family, his source of rage and shame. He sheds his father's name and becomes someone else, only known by his "special" magical lineage - cutting off that undesirable part of himself. Voldemort’s reaction to both his parent’s abandonment is to be special in every way, and choosing to discard love and seek power and control - a place where he is not rejected at all.

Snape is different from both Harry and Voldemort is that he specifically rejects his abusive father, having known him. As a child, he is seen wearing his mother’s clothes, only with an overlong coat that might belong to his father on a hot sunny day. As per Pottermore, he occasionally got whipped - so one can assume the coat is to hide that. Harry identifies strongly to Snape wearing overlong clothes that don’t quite fit him - a clear sign of neglect, if anything else. The fact that he wears his mother’s smock (and is willing to comfortably wear it in private with Lily in the scene before Hogwarts express) is an interesting detail to me. It feels like a rejection of his father and a sense of identification with his mother. With a person who he is comfortable with, he cuts an "impressive figure" with his smock. We see this detail pop up again in his textbook - where he is proud of being “Half A Prince”, emphasizing his magical lineage, his refuge in a violent, neglectful home.

Snape rejects his father (implied to be a violent man) by also rejecting hypermasculinity - as he tells sneeringly to James Potter: “If you’d rather be brawny, rather than brainy-” and by mocking “foolish wand waving” and how Potions is much more complex than that ("bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses" - thanks for some sensual imagery, Snape :D). His skillset, with the exception of Sectumsempra, is further testament to his rejection of hypermasculinity: Potions (a witches’ brew), spying (again, noted to be something women were famous for in war), branches of mind magic such as Occlumency. He is also strongly associated with mother figures - Eileen Prince (by his own admission), Lily Potter, Narcissa Malfoy. He has a feminine Patronus, in memory of his love and devotion to Lily. The insults also thrown his way are also emasculating: “Snivellus” “a lapdog”, and Dumbeldore’s own “a basket dangling on the arm of Lord Voldemort”. So if he rejects his own father, who does he look to as a male figure to model himself after? After all, he does discard the smock quite eagerly when he gets on Hogwarts Express - so he is keen to perform masculinity.

But we see that teenage Snape and Adult Snape are entirely two different personas. Teenage Snape is anxious, twitchy and walks around like a spider. He swears, he is barely in control of his emotions, is often rendered incoherent when he is emotional and lashes out. And he lashes out in ways that is reflective of a power dynamic he models from home: he feels small, so he will look for someone else to make feel small.

Adult Snape, save for being around Harry where he regresses, is the opposite. He glides when he walks or "swoops like a bat" and if you see him in scenes apart from Harry’s, he is very in control of himself and his jabs are intended to discomfit rather than lashing out. (See the Bellatrix scene in Spinner’s End).

We don’t know too much about this phase of life - we can only speculate. Adult Snape has choice words to say when he witnesses Harry's lack of control over his emotions. He may have been speaking of himself: "Fools who wear their heart proudly on their sleeves, who cannot control their emotions, who wallow in sad memories and allow themselves to be provoked so easily - weak people, in other words - they stand no chance against his powers!"

Speculation aside, what we do know is that teenage Snape shows signs of unstable identity, insecurity - all prime for grooming into a cult. He also shows a disorganised attachment style. His caregiver, his mother is too preoccupied by her own abuse to be there for her son - we see this in glimpses Harry sees in OOTP: " woman cowering" where a man shouts at her, and a young, neglected Snape cries in the corner. Children born in homes like this have trouble regulating their emotions, simultaneously displaying tendencies to aggressively lash out or show disassociative symptoms. Both of which Snape displays. Statistically, this is also seen more in low income households where economic instability and resulting domestic instability creates an unsafe environment for the kids to safely form ideas of their identity, or express emotions in healthy ways, modelling instead out of behaviour seen at home.

I believe Voldemort, as the man who has experimented with boundaries of magic in ways no one else has, is an attractive father figure for someone like Snape ( and Barty Jr. as well). After all, Snape spends his spare time inventing hexes, making great shortcuts to Potions. He has a genuine thirst for learning and is inventive and original. In SWM, we see that he has written far more longer answers than anyone else, he is poring over his paper after exams. Voldemort, as a man who pushed boundaries, is an attractive mentor who shows him a new path. Joining a cult not only gives you power and protection (one he desperately needs because of his social inferiority and as someone who is relentlessly bullied), but it also gives you an identity.

Cults usually instill a homogenous, stable identity centered around charismatic leader. Cults turn your unbearable feelings (sense of rejection, social inferiority), and externalise it and manage to a higher purpose. A cult acts as a safe container for people who cannot understand their trauma or overpowering feelings. As a boy with an unstable identity, it is easier for him to project on Voldemort and re-enact an attachment that he has rejected in early childhood: the one with his father. Voldemort also reinforces a world view that the system had taught a half blood working class boy with nowhere to go arrives at: "There is no good or evil. There is only power and those too weak to seek it".

And then, Voldemort does something Snape doesn't believe a father figure could do, something he cannot conform to or abide by - he threatens the only relationship in his life that he puts on a pedestal. To ensure Lily Potter’s survival beyond asking Voldemort (who he no longer trusts to keep his word), he goes to Dumbledore. Why doesn't he trust Voldemort to keep his word? We don't really know, but given the dynamics we see at play in the first chapter of DH, where Voldemort employs Legliemency to confirm the information from Snape, the trusted spy who at that point had killed Dumbledore - it is safe to say ruling through absolute control can only take you so far. Contrast this with his later scenes with Dumbledore, where Dumbledore trusts him with magic he does not trust himself with: "I am very fortunate that I have you, Severus" .

But before we get there, we see their first scene. In his very first scene with Dumbledore, there is a power dynamic established. He visibly shrinks from Dumbledore’s judgement: “you disgust me”. He is also "stricken" when Dumbledore says "perhaps we sort too soon" - indicating a need for Dumbledore’s approval and validation. (Dumbledore’s own reaction to Snape is interesting - he doesn’t express this kind of strong disgust with Fenrir Greyback in HBP, for example. Perhaps he sees something of himself in this man who lost his way?)

Their next scene together is a grief stricken Snape, who has turned his misery and self loathing inwards and wishes to die. Dumbledore is cold, harsh: “What use will that be to anyone? If you truly loved Lily Evans, your way forward is clear”. Once Snape accepts the path of atonement Dumbledore lays out for him, Dumbledore is demonstrably gentler with him and is even exasperated that Snape asks him to keep “the very best of him” between them.

Once Dumbledore becomes his new father figure, Snape’s loyalty to him is absolute. He will back up and defend Dumbledore where it is not even required - when people accuse Dumbledore in GOF of being unfair, Snape is quick to say: "Don't blame Dumbledore for Potter's lack of respect for school rules. Potter has been crossing lines ever since he first came" (Defending Dumbledore and insulting Harry, he has a talent lol). And at the end of GOF, he shows his Dark Mark to Cornelius Fudge, essentially outing himself as a former Death Eater, to back up Dumbledore's claims because Fudge was insulting him. Even in front of Bellatrix, he emphasises: "Dumbledore is a great wizard, yes he has - the Dark Lord acknowledges it".

He is also resentful of Dumbledore's trust in Harry with secrets that he is not privy to. He enjoys being Dumbledore's closest confidant..("why may I not have the same secrets?" "You trust him, you do not trust me"). It's a less intense version of Harry's "This isn't love, this mess he has left me in. He shared a damn sight of what he was thinking with Grindelwald than with me”. He angrily tells Fake Moody that Dumbledore happens to trust him and he "refuses to believe" he gave permission to search his office. Similarly, he tells Umbridge "jerkily" to ask Dumbledore why he doesn't have the DADA job. Snape is offended at any suggestions of Dumbledore's lack of trust in him.

He also has a similar disillusionment like Harry's with Dumbledore - "you have used me. I have spied for you, lied for you, all intended to keep Lily Potter's son safe and now you are telling me he is being raised like a pig for slaughter". All of this and yet, just like Harry, he chooses to do what Dumbledore would have wanted of him. He goes as far as committing a sort of patricide, just like his former father figure (who did it for different reasons) on the wishes of his current father figure.

And ultimately, he chose Dumbledore's plan of Greater Good rather than Lily's fierce intention of keeping her son alive. It’s also interesting that Dumbledore, a queer, non conforming man is what Snape ultimately chooses as a father /mentor to his path of atonement.

There is a cyclical projection of father among all three boys: Harry inadvertently projects a desire for a father figure on Snape when he wishes that the Half-Blood Prince was his dad. (Read more about Harry’s relationship with Prince in wonderful meta by @thedreamermusing here) Snape projects a wish for a father figure by projecting on to Voldemort. Ultimately, both of them project this desire onto Dumbledore, and it is Dumbledore who ends up being the ultimate guide and father figure for both of them, guiding them through their respective roles in the war.

Thank you to @thedreamermusing and pet_genius for the inputs for this post 🌻 here is a suggested reading from pet's treasure trove relevant to this meta: Death Eaters As A Cult.

#severus snape #hp meta #harry potter meta #character analysis #albus Dumbledore #lord Voldemort #tom riddle #the half blood prince #pro snape #snapedom #snape community #the abandoned boys

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kpopisthereasonihavenolife · 4 years ago

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Fury of Their Scales

m.yoongi / reader

genre: dragon!au, wyvern!yoongi, human/herbalist!reader,

warning(s)!!: isolation/alienation, mentions of war, injuries/blood/violence, dragon boy yoongles is stuck in a trap bc he’s dumb, y/n is so sO pure, protective dragon yoonyoon, villagers physically bully y/n a lot :(, unfair situations, y/n takes so much shit like a champ she deserves an award, dragon boy is a dragon for the first half of this (sorry, not sorry), don’t be scared there's actual humor and wholesome stuff too :D, slow burn (kinda)?

w.count: 17.7k

Series | One-shot | Two-shot | Drabble | [Rated: T]

synopsis: a world of dragons, demons, devils, gods and ghouls- humans were of small number. you’ve lived on the outskirts of your human village in the woods ever since you could remember. living alone in a small cabin with nothing but woodland trees, ponds, lakes and animals was like a small paradise- with the occasional bump in the road. as someone who’s studied and experimented with nature to make all sorts of concoctions- your home was ideal. it didn’t matter that your village didn’t like it or that they rejected your life of medicine. what did matter, however, was the dragon stuck in a trap not too far from your home that you just discovered.

a/n: i literally haven’t sat down to write fanfiction in over a month bc my brain was fried and i got sucked balls deep into a fandom of an anime i dont even watch (yet). It took me three hours to edit this bc i pass tf out, pls be easy on me LOL

A shrill whine echoed through the woodland area. Bouncing off trees, echoing in caves, spooking off wildlife of rodents and critters that crept along the ground with far too many spindly legs. Rustling in the wind, entangling with the leaves that blew and then erupting when a campfire crackled, settling in it’s burning pit of wood and stone.

-x-x-x-

You shot awake in bed, the morning light peeking in through your bedroom window that was covered in a beginning to tear curtain. You breathed out a heavy sigh as you flopped back down onto your mattress that squeaked at your movement. You really should be getting a new bed sometime soon. This one was old and did nothing for your pressure points or back while you slept. What was the point of a good night rest when you wake up feeling like you just wrestled a bear and lost?

You looked at the small streaks of light that soaked into your wooden home as you closed your eyes, took a deep breath and opened them again before getting out of bed. You threw your covers off, your nightdress coming down to your knees as you started to stretch. Your arms reached above your head as you stifled a yawn.

You could hear the birds outside and from the way the sun angled into the room through the drapes, you assumed it was still fairly early. You hated that you could never seem to sleep until later into the morning, but you couldn’t help the fact that when you're up, you're up for the day unless you’re ill.

Walking to your window, you drew open the curtains and immediately shut your eyes. Peeling them open slowly in a squint, the morning light was brilliant until you finally adjusted to the sudden light difference. Letting the morning sun warm your room with sunspots, you started to change.

Tossing away your nightdress, you changed into your everyday- not at all flattering- attire.

A dress of a faded moss green skirt and a stretched, overly used leather corset around your waist that tucked around the white top half of your dress. Tying your hair back you slipped on some socks.

Leaving your room, you immediately dashed to your fire place where a kettle of day old water hung from the single hook inside the top of the pit. Striking a match, you ignited the wood that had not yet been completely burnt and noted to refill the kettle with fresh water later on- too lazy to do it right off the bat.

You walked around your small, cabin home jumping place to place with small tasks or chores that took a mere few seconds to complete to start your day off waiting for your kettle to whistle with hot water. When it finally did, you carefully took your kettle with a cloth wrapped around your hand and set it on your countertop. Grabbing a clay mug from your cupboard (that you made on your own to your pride), you dropped in a few leaves from a box of herbs you had and poured the steaming hot water over them.

“Alright,” you assured yourself as you left your kettle to cool off again. After a handful of minutes, you took your mug and sat yourself at your small table that was made for two- but only occupied by yourself. You lifted open your window and let out a breathy sigh at the fresh air. You placed a small plate of grain and food on the open window seal and soon enough, birds were flocking to it to grab something.

“Good morning you guys,” you chuckled as you basked in the small moment of peace before the day ahead. You weren’t sure how long you were sitting there in your spot of sunlight and birds with the occasional squirrel, but after the sun had shifted just enough to get you to notice, you deemed it long enough.

Getting up, you set your mug into your sink and took the plate that was previously filled on the widow as you walked to your door. Grabbing a white cloak to tie around your shoulders, a small gathering basket and placing a pair of worn down, brown boots on, you were leaving your home. Grabbing the key that hung on a nail beside the door, you locked your cabin door behind you and placed the key around your neck.

Taking a list from beneath the small cloth in your basket, you started reading aloud to none other than yourself. You kept yourself company, that’s the only way you stayed somewhat entertained in your lonesome cabin.

You lived on the outskirts of your village, having been born in this cabin and growing up in it even when your parents left you there as a child. You found out quickly how to grow and live independently and by now it was just second nature. Sure, you had your rough days of work and weather, but it was manageable. At least you didn’t have neighbors that stressed you out- only the occasional bird, bat or squirrel that got stuck in your chimney that you had to chase out.

“I need to find some goldenrod for sure,” you muttered. “I’ll need to make sure not to grab yarrow in its place; although, I guess it wouldn’t be all that bad if I did.” Your knowledge and interest in medicine was also another reason why you never branched further into the village as a person. All they did was ridicule you for not following the status quo. “I need honey too, but I’d have to go to the village for that unless some merchant runs into me while I’m out.” You sighed, “I doubt it. I’m never that lucky.”

You started your way off, passing by the small well in your front yard and bypassing the small station of firewood you had yet to cut and move. A pile of logs sat sliced into thirds under a tarp beside your front door. The hardest part of your life was building the muscle and stamina to cut your own firewood, not to mention swinging and actually hitting the wood with your axe instead of magnificently missing it and getting the blade stuck in the stump you used to chop on.

As you walked away from your cabin, the trees becoming thicker as you followed the dirt trail further into the woods, you started looking around. Scanning for any signs of any herb that you may want to snag along the search for the days main goal: goldenrod. You started off the path and began walking between trees and away from small holes from rabbits and moles so you don’t jeopardize your ankles and fall.

You were searching for a while as you were knelt into the grass, scanning leaves and flower petals to identify what was what when you thought you heard something. From somewhere beyond the trees, past the wall of foliage, you though you heard a sort of... whining? Or maybe howl?

A sense of deja-vu washed over you. Had you heard this whining somewhere before? Was it a wolf cub or maybe a bear? No, it sounded too rough to be either of those. A cry echoed after a moment of silence and then the whines from before returned shortly after.

A part of you wanted to forget about it and leave the area immediately. Something about the way it seemed to bend and mold the air around you with it’s unfamiliar cry made your skin crawl. However, the bigger part of your heart that knew that the cries you were hearing were cries for help made you think otherwise.

Rising to your feet, you tucked your basket to your side closer in a pitiful sense of self-comfort as you made your way towards the cries. The trees became less dense and soon you were approaching a small opening. You could hear the sounds of metal clanking together along with the loud cries and whines. Perhaps an animal had gotten snagged in a trap? If that were the case, you wondered if you should free it or not.

Although you felt bad for the animals in the moment, you knew that they were someone else's food source or something important to help somehow; whether it be a pelt for warmth or their claws for weaponry. You had no right to free an animal that wasn’t your prey- so you decided that if it was an animal you’d leave no matter how much your heart ached.

When you could see the clearing ahead, you slowed your footsteps and slowly crept up behind a tree to peer around it. As you did so, your breath caught in your throat as you gasped and slapped a hand over your mouth to keep from choking and making a sound. You spun around, nearly dropping your basket from your arm as you hid behind the tree you had peered around and pressed your back firmly to it’s trunk.

Your breath shuttered, shook, halted and repeated. You couldn’t remember how to breathe properly as you tried to be as quiet as possible. Around that tree trunk and indeed caught in a metal trap was no animal.

It was a dragon.

You racked your brain trying to be reasonable. Perhaps it was just a trick of the mind? A hallucination? Maybe the leaves you boiled earlier that morning were hallucinogenic and you were simply too careless about what you were brewing in your morning daze?

You peered one more time around the tree trunk to verify and your entire body ceased up again at the same dragon from the first time you saw it. You didn’t hide immediately this time. You stayed hidden, tucked away but examined the situation the best you could; even if every orifice of your body was telling you to run.

You weren’t too well versed on the dragon race, but this particular dragon you had read about before in a book once- but only briefly. A wyvern you think it was called.

The creature was large, as tall as the trees- one not quiet fully grown yet you imagined. Or maybe it was because the creature was folded in on itself, crouched to the ground as it tugged on it’s trapped legs- so it appeared smaller en masse.

A large bear trap had sunk it’s sharp metal teeth into the scaled leg of the mighty creature. With nowhere near enough space to try and fly away- trap attached or not- and no room to try and back away, shake it off or even break the chain that held the trap in place, the dragon was ultimately stuck in whining pain.

It’s scales were that of ashen red; the color of a fine blush, but rough to the texture like brick. It’s arms were large and folded inwards, the talons of one digging into the earth to steady itself and the other crawling at the trap futility. It’s long tail was curled around it’s back and the length of it disappeared behind the tree line where you suspected it was barbed at the end. It’s head was long, thin and had three horns- one on the end of its nose and two on either side of it’s head.

Needless to say, it was a wonder to witness. A dangerous wonder, but a wonder no less.

Dragons were a very rare sight around human territory. They hated the human race and for reasons that you couldn’t blame them for. Years ago, you had read about a war- if you could call it that- that took place between human and dragon.

The humans in their invincible high from all sorts of discoveries and conquering of other places had decided to set their sights on the dragons. If they could tame the mighty beasts of the skies and elements and use them as war creatures- the people would reign over all. That’s what they had assumed.

They had no idea just what they had signed themselves up for when they marched into Dragon Country. The doom that took place was instantaneous for the first brave and foolish group of marchers and it only got worse.

A group of nearly 400 men were slaughtered at the hands of just a few dragons who were the first to be approached as mere animals. Burned alive, crushed, eaten, slashed into ribbons- the humans stood no chance in hell.

Then, the dragon’s returned the favor. If the humans wanted war, so be it. The dragon race was smart, far smarter than the average genius human being. With magic on their side along with their mighty strength and numbers, they took to the Humanlands and burned it to the ground.

This pathetic war lasted no longer than a week and nearly one-third of the human population was blown away from the very beasts they had wanted to tame and use.

The two had long since left each other alone, no one wanting to repeat the past. Humans fear dragons due to the stories- that was unavoidable. However, dragons live long and hate even longer. They can hold a grudge longer than that of a devil or demon.

That is what shook you to your core as you gazed at this one single dragon caught in the woods of the Humanslands. Why was it so far from Dragon Country? Had it wandered here because of boredom? Perhaps it was banished by the king of dragons you had known about. Or maybe this dragon was just foolish. You weren’t sure and you less sure if you’d stick around long to find out.

The creature was a terror and the snarls and whines and cries that came from it were something that would surely haunt you in the middle of the night when you hear the wind howl. Regardless of that however, you felt pity for this dragon.

As of the moment, it had hurt no one and you had heard no word of any dragon attacks. It was just stuck, injured and helpless. Before you could muster up the conscience to quietly leave, you stepped forwards just an inch and knocked a small rock from its place on a tree root.

The dragon’s head whipped up, it’s sensitive nose finally catching a whiff of a different scent that wasn’t of Woodland descent now that it wasn’t as preoccupied with the stupid bear trap.

It’s black coal eyes narrowed as it’s mouth opened to show its rows of white fangs that could easily devour you. A violent shiver ran through your entire body as your eyes connected with its own. You were discovered and there was no going back down.

Swallowing the lump in your throat felt like a massive stone was lodged inside. You took a few more shaky steps forward, showing your entire body to the beast. It’s winged arms lifted in defensive as it’s head lowered; it’s chin becoming level with the ground and still growling. You could see plumes of steam coming from its mouth due to it’s hot breath.

It was clear this particular creature wanted nothing to do with you- a human- and you couldn’t blame it. You didn’t want to be here either. This situation could end with you getting killed, but your morality and ability to sympathize with the weak or injured was larger than the risk of your safety.

Lifting your arms to show you had nothing on you, you started to enter the small clearing.

“Easy,” you hushed softly as the dragon snapped it’s jaw just one time in warning. You gulped again, daring to take another stupid and foolish step. “I want to help,” you said. Earning another growl in response didn’t shock you.

It took several minutes, a handful of snaps to stay away, constant growls and steam filled breaths for you to even get within arms reach of the trap. You were sure that if you made one wrong move the creature would bite you in half- but you had to take a chance.

You think the dragon knew this too. You were the closest thing to an escape it would probably find that wasn’t going to go and tell other humans to capture or kill it. It would cooperate until it was free, you were sure of that- but after? You could only imagine.

It’s winged arms were around you, shading you from the sunlight that the tree’s didn’t cover as your fingers brushed the cool metal of the trap. As you eyed it you wondered why someone would make such a large trap in the first place. It seemed far too large and frankly a bit overkill for a just a bear trap.

You look over your shoulder to see the head of the dragon that was the size of your body staring down at you just above your head. You swallowed for the nth time that morning in nervousness.

“I’m going to try and release it,” you say. “It’s going to hurt.”

You carefully pulled the sleeves of your dress up as you curled your fingers around the thick metal teeth. The scales of the dragon were broken and destroyed as the trap dug into it’s reptilian-like skin.

Blood had already begun to stain the metal. The trap’s teeth were warm- warmer than the rest of the trap due to the dragon's blood being so much hotter than an average animal or human. It’s hot, like steamed bathwater, and it steamed the metal to warm your hands almost uncomfortably.

You took a breath before you started to pull your arms away, fingers aching from pulling on the teeth to try and open the trap. You had been thankful in the moment that you did indeed chop your own firewood because it built up some bit of muscle in the grand scheme of things. The trap began to give and slowly creaked open bit by bit. The dragon’s coal black eyes widened a fraction as it started to wriggle it’s leg.

“Stop moving,” you hissed instinctively. If it thrashed too much, you could loose your grip and then it would just clamp down on it’s leg again. With a whining and grunting mixture of sounds, you soon pried it open enough to where you were almost certain the creature could free itself. “Okay,” you huffed in endurance as you held it open, “move!”

The dragon was quick to rip it’s leg out of the trap and send it, and you, off the ground. The rapid motion tore you away from the trap, the metal scratching your fingers as you fell to your ass and then onto your back in the dirt as the trap snapped shut again away from you. It fell to the Woodland floors empty and bloody as you hissed on your back.

You pain and breathlessness were soon replaced by fear and anxiety when you felt the dragon you had just freed hover over you. It’s taloned, long, winged arms were on other side of your body and it’s hind legs- one of them being the proffered injured one that still bled over it’s brick colored scales- were perched like it was ready to pounce.

It’s nostrils were hovering above your chin as it’s eyes bore dangerously into your own.

This was it. You were going to die, you were almost certain of it now.

The dragon huffed as it opened its mouth. Small licks of fire fanned across it’s tongue in the dark cavern of it’s fang lined mouth and steam pushed from it’s nostrils like a chimney that hadn’t been opened to let out the smoke of the fire in it’s hearth.

You were petrified, frozen in fear and weren’t even capable of breathing. All of your senses were focused on the threat of death inches away from you and you knew that no one would know that you died. No one would find it odd that you weren’t in the village like you were every few weeks or so. They wouldn't find it strange that your cabin was abandoned. And you were certain that they would not conduct a search for you- you didn’t matter to them in the long run.

You were going to die and you were going to do so alone and your body would stay alone until the earth reclaimed it in it’s soil.

The dragon only then opened its mouth further, roared into your face and then sprung off you. It plunged into the tree line, knocking down and busting through the trees and tearing up the soil beneath its claws and talons as it escaped. Running from you and leaving you alive.

“What,” you breathed as you soon let out a strong, almost painful, burst of air that had been held and contained in your chest. Your heart beat strong like it would burst straight from your chest into the sky. You weren’t sure how long you lay in the dirt just trying to regain control of your body that had been previously paralyzed.

When you did manage to pick yourself up- albeit pathetically- you grabbed your discarded basket once again and rushed home.

“No more outside,” you declared to yourself in the clearing of trees and the one bloody trap left behind.

-x-x-x-

Despite the events of the day behind you, once your heart calmed itself and you were able to finally rationally think again instead of assuming you were at death’s door, your mind would flutter back to the dragon and it’s injury.

As you carried in buckets of water from your well or logs of wood for your fireplace, you worried. You felt silly worrying over such a mighty and strong being, but you couldn't stop that cloud from covering your mind. You wondered how it was doing or if it made its way out of the Woodlands- only briefly thinking about the damaged and torn or uprooted trees in its wake.

You went to bed that night far earlier than usual. The blanket of black had not yet completely enveloped the sky of deep orange and red. However, maybe the early bedtime hadn’t been a bad idea, considering you were awoken in the middle of the night anyway.

It was a small noise in the distance. A sound like the padding of paws of a dog running on wood or horse clops on cobblestone. Small and forgettable, but almost irritating and grinding on the nerves of the listener.

Crawling out of bed almost at zero energy levels from your previous encounters, you shook your head to try and shake the sleepiness away. Trudging to your door, you cracked it open to try and see if it was some foxes scraping in the glory of midnight or maybe some critter getting into trouble. Instead, when your door opened, the sounds of an eerily familiar growl filtered through the air.

All tiredness from before flew away as you shut the door harshly and grabbed your cloak to throw over your nightdress. You rushed to your table to grab your glass covered lantern and lit it before blowing out the match and tossing it. Going back to your door you threw it open again and ran out of it. You didn’t even bother locking it, the key still hanging on it’s key as it flopped against the wall from the air of the forcefully shut door.

You ran through the woods, trying your best not to trip on any rocks or sticks. You let out an occasional wince from your bare feet scraping too hard on the dirt or catching on the rough end of a stone. You were going down hill when you saw in the shadows a series of trees uprooted or knocked in two with claw marks on the trunks.

You tried skidding to a stop when the hill started to level out steadily, but there was a fat chance of that happening. You threw open your arms and snagged a tree trunk to forcefully stop yourself from going further. Your legs flew out in front of you far too dramatically for a spontaneous run in the woodlands at midnight as your lantern nearly flew out of your grasp.

You huffed as you heard the same growls you had heard before echo around you. You could hardly see, but you could tell the outline of the dragon in the darkness. You looked around as your lantern had lost it’s flame.

You dug in the pocket you had sewn into your nightdress and struck another match, lighting it again as the fire dimly lit up your face. You were now fully aware you were seen- even though you knew it already to begin with.

The dragon had previously been nipping and lapping at it’s wound with it’s split tongue before you had interrupted it’s silence.

“I knew it,” you whispered as you saw the same dragon from before. You slowly approached it, somehow feeling a little more confident than earlier even though it still growled at you. “Hey,” you soothe, “you know me. Just let me see,” you said as you walked around it’s curled body to it’s injured leg. Lifting your lantern up to see better, you weren’t shocked to see the scales still wet with troves of blood. Just how much blood did dragons have?

If a human bled this much for this long, you were sure they’d be long dead by now.

You carefully set your lantern aside and worked around your neck to remove your white cloak from your shoulders. “Hold still,” you instructed as you started to rather sloppily wrap the wound. You couldn’t let it just keep bleeding and it wasn’t like you had anything else to try and wrap it in- you’d just have to sew a new cloak or buy a new one in the village.

You didn’t even take the time to be shocked that the dragon once again let you do as you pleased in aiding it’s unfortunate situation. In fact, it was silent. There was no growling or snarling, just the sound of hissing when you brushed against the wound or wrapped your cloak around it too tight.

When you finished, you almost pouted at the sight of your cloak already starting to dot with the dragon’s hot blood seeping through the fabric. A loss, yes, but you felt like it was worth it from the relief you felt in your chest at the dragon’s ease of tension.

“If you stay put,” you started, grabbing your lantern again and looking up at the dark eyes of the dragon you were becoming almost familiar with, “I can come back in the morning with something to help you.” The dragon showed no sign of obeying or denying you and you weren’t going to stick around and press the issue.

At the end of the day, it could still very well tear you apart.

You soon left the dragon’s side, the fire of your lantern lighting your way back home. You’d come back just as you said you would and if the dragon was still there, then you’d try and help further so that it can eventually go back home. Even you knew that it had a home somewhere and you were sure that home was missed to some degree.

When you returned to your cabin, you breathed a small sigh of relief when you saw that in your haste of not locking your door behind you- no nightcrawler had snuck in and wrecked your home or stole anything. You walked inside, shutting and tightly locking up behind you as you set your lantern on your table.

Wincing at your sore feet, you wrapped them in cloth and a paste of herbs you had in a jar to help soothe aches and pain before you tucked yourself back into bed. Hopefully, you could stay asleep until the sun rises this time.

-x-x-x-

You were pleased to see that when you opened your eyes again, you could hear the birds and see the sunlight of what looked like late morning. At least you managed to get some decent sleep- although you weren’t all too surprised looking back on the last 24 hours. A lot had happened and to say it was taxing was an understatement.

You were slow moving this morning; another thing you weren’t shocked about.

Trudging around your cabin, you walked around in your nightdress gathering small jars of salves and ointments that could be useful to the dragon in the woods that may or may not still be there with your- no doubt- beyond salvaging cloak.

When you finally got changed, you threw on a dress of a fairly unflattering shade of brown since you may be kneeling on the ground or thrown into the dirt again from the dragon. You wrapped up a new layer of paste for your still sore feet before pulling them into your boots. You grabbed your basket with your half-hazardly thrown together first aid treatments and left your cabin- actually locking the door this time.

It was all a blur on what direction you rushed to last night in your sleepy, adrenaline pumped haze, but you were able to clearly see where your footsteps pressed into the soil. Following your own trail, you carefully descended the hill you flew down the night before and when it all leveled out, you smiled at seeing the dragon sleeping peacefully in the same spot you left it.

“Good,” you breathed happily. You were glad it stayed put- whether it was because you asked or not didn’t matter. You would be able to help more now and nothing filled your chest with more glee than being of use to someone, or rather something in this way. Healing was your passion after all.

You slowly padded up to the sleeping dragon and decided against working on it while it slept. It could spring to life and attack you out of instinct for all you knew. You sat a good distance from its body and in view of it’s line sight for when it woke up you wouldn’t be hidden. You sat on the ground, you're back against the trunk of a tree as you started digging around your basket for the folded and wrapped up herbs you had.

You weren’t sure how long you sat in the tree shaded morning sun plucking, grinding and mixing different herbs together in a cloth draw pouched you had with you. Eventually you started to hear groans from the dragon ahead of you. You figured that if the first thing the creature sees when waking up was you staring at it, then you’d push away any future idea of treating its leg. So, you kept yourself occupied with your herbs until it made a noise of awareness.

A handful of minutes pass when you feel a warm wind push towards you. Instinctively, you look up to see the dragon’s dark eyes looking at you. You smile at the mighty beast, the polar opposite of yesterday’s fear stricken paralysis.

You finished grinding a handful of mint smelling herbs between your palms to sprinkle into an oil you had with you as you swashed it around in it’s cork plugged jar. It was odd, doing your everyday tasks with a dragon for an audience.

When you finished, you stood up after placing the jar back under the cloth of your basket and brushed off your dress’s skirt. You fumbled around to grab the small oval container of salve before you started to approach the dragon.

It didn’t growl and it didn’t snarl. It extended it’s winged arms as it’s head dropped to the ground and it’s leg that was wound with your cloak that was now a deep shade of red was pushed out further for you to inspect. You didn’t want to let it get to your head that maybe, just maybe, this dragon was learning to trust you.

You knew that dragon’s had to have good instincts, so maybe it just realized that you weren’t a threat.

You carefully unwound your awfully tied cloak as you tossed it to the ground in a heap. You were glad to see that the hot blood that had been continuously seeping through brick red scales had finally stopped. You twisted open the container and began to smear the salve over and between the thick scales to the broken skin beneath.

You had expected them to be cooler to the touch like a lizard’s skin, but the scales and skin of the beast was warm like a freshly doused warm towel.

The dragon let you work in peace as it watched you without disruptions or growls. It didn’t even twitch if you touched a particularly pain-sensitive area.

When you finished, you placed the cap back over the salve and looked up at the dragon to address it. “The bleeding looks to be done, but we should cover it with something.” You looked down at your soiled cloak. “We can’t reuse that, it’s already used and we can’t put dried blood back on a wound.” You started to walk away to your basket to place the salve back and maybe take your cloth in your basket to try and at least tuck it into it’s scales or something when something snagged your dress skirt.

Yelping, you spun around and took a moment to process that the dragon had moved it’s winged talon to step on your dress to keep you from moving. Looking up to its face, you saw it looked at you with a calm expression flitting through its eyes and it shook its head.

“What?” You asked more to yourself than the dragon. “You don’t want it to be wrapped?” The dragon only moved it’s head back to look at it’s leg before lifting it’s arm back up and freeing you. You trotted back to the dragon’s leg and squinted at it like he was trying to tell you to.

You gasped at seeing how the wound already looked way better than it had just twenty minutes ago. You saw the damaged scales start to repair themselves as the skin below it’s scaled armor pulled itself back together and became covered again. You looked back to the dragon’s face, relief evident in your expression as you breathed out a sigh of happiness with a hand on your chest like a weight had been lifted off you.

“Oh, thank goodness. I’m glad that the rumors of a dragon’s healing potential are true at least.” You went back to your basket, dropping the container of salve inside as you lifted it back into your arms. “I’m going to be on my way then,” you said. You felt a little bad for leaving so soon, but you had hardly gotten anything down yesterday because of your meeting with the beast, so you were already behind on your own personal tasks.

You still needed to find some goldenrod and if you were honest, plucking some stuff to replace the amount of salve you used on the dragon’s leg wouldn’t be so bad either.

As you left into the thick Woodland, you couldn’t help but feel like you were being watched. You peered over your shoulder several times and from somewhere you could almost tell that the dragon was watching you from beyond the trees. Dragons had eyesight far stronger than human eyes, so when you felt a stare on your back, you didn’t doubt it.

It was obvious that it couldn’t travel through the Woodlands like you could without plowing down trees in its wake and it wasn’t exactly spacious enough to spread its wings and take off in this section of the woods.

When you left a location you could feel the eyes following you and even heard stomping in the distance of the dragon moving so it could keep you in it’s sights. You wondered briefly why it would be following you around if not for it wanting to eat you, but you just shrugged it off.

It was just past midday when you had finally started to depart back to your cabin. As you unloaded your basket inside your cabin and began to put everything away, you went back outside to gather a bucket of water from your well and you nearly jumped out of your skin from the sounds rustling behind your home.

If the glimpse of horns and wings was anything to go by, you knew that the dragon had somehow squeezed around the trees and followed you back to your cabin. Even closer to human territory. You crept around the cabin and met the dragon face to face for yet another time as you just smiled at it. It seemed relaxed and at ease to your surprise.

“Are you going to follow me around now?” You playfully asked as all it did was let out a small huff. “I know you can understand me,” you teased as you looked it up and down. You felt bad mentally referred to it as ‘it’ all this time, but you had no idea how to tell what this wyvern was. “If you’re going to follow me around girl-” your sentence was stopped short at a small growl. You perched your brow up at the dragon as it glared down at you. “Boy?” You corrected as the unpleasant look left his eyes.

You ticked your head a bit, nodding to yourself.

“Okay, that settles that.”

Throughout your day, you had the company of a dragon sitting in your yard watching you work. When you were inside, you kept the front door propped open with a piece of wood at the bottom and the windows were open so the dragon could still see you and you could still talk to him.

You rambled- a lot. It felt silly to be having a one-sided conversation with a dragon, but you couldn’t help it. You didn’t want him to feel left out- as odd as it was to say in terms of the beast- so you talked about a lot of things. Your hobbies, the process of making an ointment or what herbs to crush and mix with something to get the smell of berries. How you cooked and what it was; you even offered him a loaf of bread; he denied it (which you were glad for because that would have been an expensive sacrifice).

“I actually live here alone,” you speak aloud from the inside of your house so he could hear you through the open window his head rested next to on the ground outside. “I’ve lived here all my life practicing medicine and plants. I take care of myself decently well considering I live in the Woodlands.” You paused, mixing some broth with a pot of steamed vegetables and spices you had been boiling. “My village doesn’t exactly like me or my studies all that much, so my life here works out in the long run.”

You wondered if he found your babbling annoying since he was just stuck listening to you ramble on about whatever came to mind to keep him somewhat entertained. Spilling your life story wasn’t a thrilling tale, but it was a silence filler. You figured he didn’t mind as much as you may think since he stuck around.

When the day was ending, he made a sound of disgruntled groaning that wasn’t exactly a growl, but a sound of attention. He was apparently announcing his departure. You waved the dragon off through the open window as he left back into the Woodlands and you assumed that this would be the final time you met him.

You would be wrong.

Because that following day as the sun was high at just past midday, there he was again. Steadily, he was visiting you often and he became a normal part of your life.

-x-x-x-

“Hey, Suga,” you called when the dragon came into view from your window as you read in the morning light. You had started calling him by the name weeks ago when you caught him sniffing through your window at whatever you were baking at the time and accidentally sucked a bag of sugar up his nostril. You would have called him Sugar, but he just growled at the soft sounding name, so removing the R was the best deal you could cut him. He didn’t indicate what his name actually was, but you couldn’t just keep calling him ‘dragon’ or ‘wyvern’.

You had some decency.

You shut your book, setting it in the open window as you got up and made your way out. The leg that had been injured weeks ago had healed like it wasn’t hurt in the first place. No scar left behind and no scale left tarnished- it pleased you in all honesty.

Walking to him, he lowered his head to the ground with a small sigh through his nostrils as you brought you hand to run along the scales of his nose and head. It was like having a giant lizard fawn over your touch- or rather that was exactly what it was.

“Good morning, I haven’t seen you in a few days. Did you have a safe trip?” You asked as he just let out a small swooned dragon sound. You had gotten good at deciphering what his sounds and noises meant to a certain degree.

You had noted that every so often he would disappear for days on end and then return- be it a few days to a week or more later. He would travel to Dragon Country and then return to check and visit with you, or so you highly assumed. You knew that was his country and his home, so it was no shock to you that he went back. The shock was that he kept coming back to your cabin in the Woodlands.

You had read dragons were loyal, but this was astonishing. If regular visits with a mighty dragon was your reward for treating and freeing him from a trap, you had no regrets in doing so.

You stopped your ministrations on his head as you turned to go check off whatever chore you had left to do this morning off your to-do list when you felt his nose push into your back. Shoving you playfully forwards, you stumbled on your feet as you turned around with a playful smile and lifted brows.

“Oh you wanna play that way, huh?” You riled as he just huffed steam into your face. Your hair and dress whipped behind you as you just scoffed and jumped at him. The dragon shot to it’s legs and winged talons, skillfully dodging your puny, human lunges.

When you snagged your foot on your dress skirt and was ready to take a tumbling, ungraceful fall to eat dirt, his nose shot under you and caught you before you even made it close to the ground. Hooking your wasit with his horn, he nudged you back up to your feet as you just laughed at him and stroked his nose once again in gleeful thanks.

Suga almost purred- if dragon’s could ever.

As you spent your day with your companion, the sky started to tell you that night was coming and Suga’s departure once again was near. You were out in the yard, sitting on the grass with your basket beside you and all sorts of herbs, a grinding stone and jars and jugs to mix and create with. Suga lay behind you, curled around you like a protective wall, lazing away silently, but not sleeping. Just relaxed.

“Will you be back tomorrow?” You asked as you sprinkled some flower petals into a bottle of clear oil. He whined- a signal for no. “Going back to Dragon Country already, huh?” He huffed in agreeance as you chuckled. He sounded so sulky. “Will you be gone for a while this time?” He made no noise, but his head moved to affirm a yes. Another handful of quiet, dragonless days were in your future it seemed. “Well, be safe on your way. Watch out for traps,” you teased as he moved his body back just a bit for you to teeter backward from where you were leaning against him.

When he left you that night, his nose pressed against your torso as your arms wrapped around it in farewell. He had only started doing that recently- after his last trip back to Dragon Country in fact.

You always felt a little bit colder when he left you like that.

Four days passed and on the morning of the fifth, you had walked out of your house early in the morning with a freshly sown cloak of brick red and an empty basket. You dreaded going into the village for a great many reasons. But you simply couldn’t push it off any further and you needed things that only the merchants and shops in town would have.

It helped that when strangers would come into the woodlands and see your house, they would almost always knock on your door from curiosity and you’d always take any chance to sell something of your creation for a decent amount.

Locking your cabin door, you started your trip. You sighed. Hopefully, you’d be able to get into town and then get out just as quickly.

Suga had returned that day as he approached your cabin. He heard nothing inside and saw no sign of you around. Peering into our windows, you weren’t inside from what he could tell and he pouted at not seeing you. He lay at the side of your cabin, his head lay by your front door as he waited for you to come back.

A few hours passed and his ears picked up on the sound of your footsteps- he had familiarized himself with the sound and weight you put into your steps- as his eyes opened ready to greet you. However, a growl slipped past his fangs as he saw you come from the dirt trail between the trees that lead further out of the Woodlands.

You were shocked to see him back so soon as you wiped some sweat off your brow. Sweat that was mixed with dirt and the smallest dried patch of blood.

You had forgotten that Suga had never seen you go into and back from your village before, so the growl pulled from his throat made you shiver. Your forehead had a small cut about the length of your knuckle and your lip had a split in it. Your dress had grass strains in the knees and up the side of it as specks of dirt spotted your face and neck.

You walked to your door, setting your basket down with a cloth over it, the items you had gotten covered as you walked to Suga and placed your hand on the horn at the end of his scaled nose.

“What is it?” You ask, oblivious that it was your current state of disarray that made him fume with unease. He pulled his horn from your palm as he moved to nuzzle his nose into your torso. You stretched your arm to stroke under his eye as you soothed him. “Suga?” It wasn’t until he refused to move that you realized he was wondering if you were well and then you realized. “Oh,” you breathed, “I’m alright.”

He finally moved away from you and stared at you. You moved to pat his horn once before your fingers went under his scaled chin to lazily rub there. He almost hummed at the actions as you smiled with your split lip.

“This happens every time I go down to the village. Don’t worry too much, Scaly Hide.” As you soothed him, you weren’t completely aware of just how your injures made his dragon blood boil hotter than usual. You had been nothing but kind and vulnerable and truthful to him- a dragon- for no other reason than that’s just who you were as a person. Seeing you all cut up because of others? He found it absolutely preposterous.

As you rubbed beneath his chin, you started talking again. Your voice taking on a small wave of emotion he hadn’t heard from you before.

“I’m almost jealous of you,” you told him. His barbed tail twitched at your words. “I don’t know what the world of dragons is like, so I can’t say whether or not you understand the scorn of others. The prospect of you not having to deal with other humans though is one to be envious of.” Your eyes had a far off look of sadness that riddled his scaled body with pain.

He pulled his head from your hand and moved to nudge it behind you. He pushed your body against the giant wall of scales that is his own body as you started laughing at him. It wasn’t hard to understand an awkward attempt of a dragon wanting to console you. You raised your arms, reaching around what you could as you hugged his neck while his head stayed pushed against your back over your shoulder.

Suga didn’t understand how humans could do this to others of the same race. Dragon’s weren’t just comrades in arms in battle, but they were kin. They were branches of family, dear friends and reliant to each other in a way that didn’t just revolve around war and destruction. Of course, his race wasn’t perfect either with the occasional rouge or traitorous dragon, but those specific turncoats were always taken care of.

He couldn’t understand why humans hurt you, and he didn’t want to understand why. He just wanted it to stop.

When you finally stepped away from him and got back into his line of sight in front of him the look on your face made him feel better. It looked like you were already recovering from all the bad emotions that plagued you earlier. He blew a small huff of steam into your face playfully as you swatted at his horn.

“I’ve been curious,” you started, “I read once that dragons have large quantities of magic and even have a second form they can change into. A human form that is different with each species. Do you have one?” His chin dipped as he let out a noise of confirmation. He did have one, though it had been years, maybe even centuries since he last changed into it. He didn’t even remember what it looked like anymore- he had forgotten about it truthfully.

Your eyes light up in excitement at the discovery.

“You do! That’s so cool!” Your over-excitement almost startled the poor beast. You let out a small sigh of contentment as you turned back to head inside and put your things away and to wash off the grime of your injuries. “I kind of want to see what it looks like,” you mutter, unable to realize that your thoughts slipped out in the form of words that were just loud enough for the dragon to hear.

Suga was quiet as he stood guard outside your home for the rest of the afternoon. The only time you left was when you went down to the small lake nearby and washed up. He was a distance away to keep anything or anyone else from intruding on your privacy. He seemed tense, but also not- even if it didn’t make sense. You tried asking him what was wrong with him, but he just nuzzled his head into your chest without a sound.

When you told him goodnight he left in the same silence he had been sitting in all day. It took a little longer for you to go to sleep because of your worry.

The next morning, you woke up and did what you always did. Same old routine with the label of a different day. Though, when you left your home to go and grab a few pieces of cut up wood for your fireplace, you stopped short. Outside your door, sleeping against the side of your house on the ground was a man.

You hadn’t seen this man before in your life and you were shocked speechless as you looked him over. He was dressed oddly, far different than the men in your village dressed.

His body was lean and covered in small scars around his chest, as shown from the absences of a shirt. A long, black cape hung at his back that he used to lounge on instead of the hard, dirt ground as the collar of it was covered in fur that covered his shoulders and brushed against his chin. His pants were brown and baggy that wrapped around his ankles and displayed his bare feet that were no doubt covered in calluses. Red gauntlets ran from his wrists to his elbows on both arms that were crossed against his bare chest.

You were hesitant to wake him up, but this was your cabin and it was early in the morning. If Suga came by to see another man here, he could get defensive and that was a scenario you really didn’t want to witness.

You knelt at his side, the door to your cabin still open behind you just in case he was hostile and you had to retreat back inside in a rush. You reached out and grabbed his shoulder- his skin was hot. You shook him once- nothing.

“Excuse me?” You squeaked as you shook him again. He groaned as his head nodded off to the side before his chin dipped and you saw his brows moving underneath the fridge of his black hair. You retracted your hand when you felt his shoulders move up and heard him take in a breath of awakening. “Sir, are you alright?”

Lifting his head, his eye were narrow and dazed in sleep as he looked up at you. They were beautiful. They were dark, black and shining like obsidian jewels. They were... familiar? You squinted at him as he opened his mouth.

“Oh,” he lazily breathed out. His voice felt like a breeze of summer wind. “You finally woke up,” he told you as you just started inquisitively at him.

“Isn’t that my line,” you quipped back. “Do I,” you hesitated, “have we met before?” He didn’t answer you as he just sat up straighter and raised his hand to your face. His warm hand ran along your jaw to your lip where he pushed against the scabbed over split in it. You flinched away from his touch as you backed away from him, your eyes locked onto his without any will power to break the contact.

“You said you wanted to see what my human form was like,” he point forwardly told you. You looked him over one more time before returning to his eyes. So that’s why they looked so familiar.

“Suga?” You asked with a pitched voice.

“My name is actually, Yoongi,” he smirked as an unfamiliar heat rose in your cheeks.

-x-x-x-

Yoongi’s visits continued and he often stayed in his human form around you now. He would waltz into your home with you and even started helping you with chores around the cabin. He’s taken to splitting your firewood (although he wouldn’t use your hatchet, he’d just rip the logs in half), and would carry things for you when you were moving to and fro. He’d watch you cook and learn if you offered to teach him something.

You had to admit that having him walking and working around with you as a human instead of a wyvern was a lot more convenient. Plus, this way he was able to have actual conversations with you.

The season’s started to change and the cool breath of autumn began to creep into the air. You would often wonder if Yoongi would stop coming to visit when the temperature drops.

“Yoongi?” You called as he sat in the middle of your floor in front of the burning fire. It was late in the afternoon as you were cooped up inside away from the chilly air. He turned to look over his shoulder at you over his fur lined cape collar.

“Hmm?”

“When winter comes, will you still visit me?” You asked as you took a drink from your warm tea before setting it back down on the table with the book you had been reading before. “I mean, you’re still technically a reptile in basic regards, so you must not like the cold that much.”

“It’s true that I don't like the cold,” he said, “I hate it. It makes my scales rough and then that makes it tough to move around.” You let out a small, nearly silent sigh. “However, if you get lonely, I’ll still come see you.” You looked back at him as he was staring at you completely serious.

The conversation died after that, you not having the heart to ask him to keep visiting. You couldn’t ask that of him if he disliked the cold that much. Surely, you’d be okay without him by your side for a few months, right? Besides, you still had until the first snow to spend with him, autumn had just started after all.

Another week passed and you had once more traveled into the village for some items you needed that you had run out of. It was no shock seeing a trip to the village so soon after the last considering you had been feeding and caring for Yoongi when he came to your cabin. Supplies run a lot faster on two figures instead of just one.

Yoongi had been gone the last couple days, so you assumed he’d be popping by anytime now so you went as soon as you could. To your misfortune, when you returned once again roughed up, Yoongi was sitting in front of your cabin door waiting for you. You had half a mind to sneak in through your bedroom window and avoid him for a bit before you let him in to avoid him seeing your freshly beat body.

Though, you spent just enough time in mental turmoil that he had seen you already.

He jumped to his feet, his face an expression of shock as he ran to meet you half way as you walked to your cabin. You greeted him with a smile just as you always did.

“Good-”

“Hush,” he shushed you as he quickly took the basket from your arms and set it on the ground at your feet. He took your chin between his fingers and started tilting and moving your head around in different angles looking you over. Your cheeks flushed as he stared intently at you. You knew it was just an inspection of your wounds, but it still made your heart pound in your chest. “They hit you again,” he growled.

“Yoongi, it’s alright.”

“No,” he seethed, “it is not.” You swore you started to see small wisps of smoke seep from his nose as he breathed steam. He must be really angry, you though. “They cannot just keep treating you like this just because you’re you.” The hand that held your chin moved to rest on your cheek before gliding up to your forehead- pushing your hair back as his hand moved to rest on the back of your head. “Human’s really are cruel,” he whispered.

You couldn't argue with that.

“I’m already used to their treatment,” you attempt to sooth. The physical pain may still occur with each lashing, but you had long since grown emotionally distant from them. They couldn’t break you any further.

“You shouldn’t be. You should be treated with respect and kindness.”

“Like how you treat me,” you teased, trying to lighten the mood. Yoongi paused, his hand coming down to rest on the crook of your neck, his long nails running over your pulse point as his eye softened.

“No,” he whispered. “I’m the only one who can treat you this way.”

“What?” You were confused. He treated you exceedingly well and he wanted other people to treat you better too, but not like him? “That doesn’t make much sense, Yoongi.”

“It does to me.”

“Well, then the argument is officially over, huh?” You chuckled as he brought his hand off you and reached for your basket. He let a smirk grace his lips as he turned and led you back to your cabin so he could help you clean your injuries.

As he helped treat and dress your wounds and even helped you make the daily meals, he would nit pick about you going into town. He offered to start going with you, or at least waiting on the edge of the village so he wouldn’t make a fuss in human society with his less than human approach to things, but you denied him.

He wanted to argue with you, to let him do as he wanted, but you just told him that you usually only went on days he wasn’t with you. It was never planned, but things just always seemed to fall in that manner.

In the end, he yielded on the subject; however, before he left that night, he presented you with something. A flower-sized, brick red scale. He placed it in your palm before he left you.

“If something ever happens, you use that scale and call for me. I’ll come flying over as quickly as I can.” You laughed at his over protectiveness. Dragon Country was miles off from here, so it would take him more than a handful of minutes to get to your cabin depending on where in the world of his kind he was at in the given situation. You accepted the scale nonetheless, grateful for his tender gesture.

Everything seemed fine again for time, until Yoongi came to your cabin and saw you prepping to go into the village yet again one morning. He scowled as he watched you pull your red cloak over your shoulders and grab your basket as you pulled on your boots. He hid behind the wall of your home as you locked the door and were on your way.

Yoongi didn’t want you to know he was there following you. He stayed behind you as you walked the Woodlands trail back to society and the entire way he pouted that you had once again not told him you were going.

He stood on the outskirts of the village that brought you harm, sitting high up in a treetop to avoid being seen. He knew going into the village after you would get him caught and he knew that if someone even looked at you strangely, he’d probably snap.

He sat there for a while, just waiting and watching until you finally showed up again, ready to head back home. His back straightened as he almost smiled seeing you unharmed. He was going to jump down and greet you, fess up that he had followed you and let you scold him as he walked you back home, but before he could even begin moving, he stiffened.

Knelt on the tree branch he hid behind the brown, red and yellow leaves that hadn’t fallen to the ground and the black of his cape as a group of boys not much older than yourself ran up behind you. You were just at the tree line of the Woodlands when they had taken your basket from you and shoved you from behind, making you fall to your knees with a cry.

He was technically in Woodland territory, he had no problem showing himself outside of your village.

As you rolled onto your back, ready to shove your way to your basket and scurry away just as you had a million times before, something fell from the treetops behind you. Twisting your body, you only saw a blur shoot past you before one of the three boys was on his ass in the dirt groaning.

Turning back to your front, your mouth dropped open.

“Yoongi?!” One boy had helped the other off the ground as the last was squaring up to start a scrap with this random guy who had popped out of the Woodlands. You wanted to shoot up and tell them to stop it and leave Yoongi alone, but they froze before you could even warn them.

The three of them swallowed as they started taking small steps backward in retreat.

Yoongi had tensed his whole body, fingers curled with his claws out. His face had scales trailing from his cheekbones to his chin as his eyes seeped with complete blackness. It was like his hair was standing on end as he snarled and raised his lips to bare his fangs at the offenders. He was daring them to try him.

Anyone with two eyes, even one eye, could clearly see this man was a dragon and nothing short of a fierce one who didn’t know how to stand down. Not willing to pick a fight with a being of that caliber and not being properly prepared to boot, the trio turned tail and ran back into the village.

It was deathly silent as they retreated and Yoongi’s body seemed to relax as you started at his back. His still shoulders went slack as his squared and ready to pounce stance calmed and straightened back out. His hair settled and the small growls you had heard before disappeared.

“Uh, Yoongi?” You call softly, not knowing if he was going to whip around and start yelling at you or not.

He did not.

He calmly walked to the basket they had taken from you, picking it up and walked back to your side. He set it down before he grabbed your arms gently and started to pull you off the ground. Once you stood on your feet, he straightened out your cloak as you brushed off your dress skirt.

“What are you doing out here?” You asked him, but he didn’t answer you. He just placed his hand on the small of your back, turning you around before he gently pushed you forward to start you off back into the Woodlands and back to your cabin.

No matter how you tried to talk to him, he never answered the entire trip. He was completely silent and he didn’t give you any facial ques on what his problem was either. He stayed quiet, a still canvas all the way into your cabin where he sat your basket on your table then sat himself in front of your fireplace that wasn’t even lit yet. It was like the might dragon was pouting.

“Yoongi, please just come over here,” you plead. You walk behind him as you see his shoulders slump in a silent sigh before he’s standing in front of you again. He turns and looks down at you and instead of an angry look in his eyes like you were expecting, you see them shine with unshed tears. “Yoongi-”

He pushes the words from your throat out of you as he wraps his arms around your shoulders and pushes you face into his warm, bare chest. He lets out a small, shaky breath as his hold tightens around you. The hand on the back of your head holding you to him felt desperate and sad. You reach around him and snag you hands on the inside of his fur lined cape behind his back.

“I was worried about you,” he all but whimpers. “I know I shouldn’t have followed you, but you didn’t tell me that you were going to that village again and I just couldn’t stop myself. I was so relieved to see you unharmed as you were leaving, but then those scumbags,” he cut himself off with a harsh breath. “Does that really always happen to you?”

You nod and give a weak ‘yes’ in reply.

“No more,” he tells you. “I won’t let it happen anymore. I’ll keep you safe and I’ll protect you from them. Even when winter comes, I won’t stop visiting you. I’ll keep coming back, I promise.” You wanted to deny him, tell him not to worry about it since he can’t stand the cold. But, you felt selfish and you wanted him to keep coming back. You wanted him to dote on you and to keep you safe like he says.

“I’ll be relying on you then,” was all you told him. When the moment is past, you pull away from his warm chest to look up at him with a playful grin. “You’re pretty pushy when it comes to my safety, it’s almost cute.”

He shoves you at your jest as he tells you to sit down and go unpack your things. He plops himself back in front of the fireplace, huffing a ball of fire to get it going in a hurry. You weren’t sure if it was the light from the fire or not that painted his cheeks pink.

-x-x-x-

You went without village harm for a month now. Just as he said, Yoongi was at your side at least every other day instead of a few days away at a time. He’d always ask if you were alright or anyone had given you any trouble. He knew when you were lying, he had gotten good at telling apart your quirks, so when you told him you were alright he was always relieved.

The weather kept getting colder and you kept getting more concerned about Yoongi’s choice to go against the cold to come see you as often as possible. You always thought about how to tell him to not come after the first winter snow to help his overall health; you just had to figure out a way to phrase it so that he’d actually listen.

It was one of those nights where you hadn’t gotten to sleep very early with your thoughts, and you had just drifted to sleep. You were somewhere between unconscious, yet aware as you briefly heard something in the distance. You weren’t awake enough to care and you weren’t aware enough to think it was something other than the nighttime animals.

A handful of minutes pass when you’re suddenly ripped from your sleep just as you were equally ripped from your bed. A grip on the back of your nightdress yanked you from your side sleeping position and pulled the fabric against your neck as you choked out a surprised gasp.

You kicked your legs in panic, your blanket hitting the floor of your room as you were pulled off your mattress and onto the floor. Hands grasped your biceps and began to drag you backward. You finally found your voice in the form of small screams and protests. You stumbled from the balls of your feet to your heels as you were pulled backward through your cabin before you were through the front door and on the ground.

Laying in the dirt and covered in goosebumps from the cold night air, you rolled to your back and propped yourself up with your elbows to see who just evicted you from your home. You shouldn’t have been shocked to see a band of men from the village, yet you were. You instantly started trying to scoot backward on your elbows and heels.

They were covered in furs and boots with torches in hand to light their way through the darkness. You looked at them in fear and confusion. What were they doing this far from the village and why were they here at all?

“What are you doing?!” You scream, your heels kicked into the dirt as your nails dig into the earth trying to back you away from one oncoming man, a blond one. You squirmed as one of his feet kicked at your wrist and pushed your back to the ground as he grabbed you by the collar of your nightdress. You whined, grabbing his wrist as you grimaced with squeezed shut eyes.

“You witch,” he accused as you peeked open your eyes. “We’ve let you live close to us, but you’ve gone and made a pact with a demon- a dragon!” Your eyes widened. Is this because Yoongi just popped out of nowhere a month ago when he followed you?

“You’re wrong!” You denied. You had no pact with him. He was just- you paused mentally. Was Yoongi a friend to you? You had been unconsciously thinking that for several weeks, but saying that out loud and admitting it to yourself as well as someone else- friendship didn’t feel like it did it justice. Was the connection you had with the dragon you saved from that trap- the same dragon who snarled in your face and decided not to kill you all those weeks ago- really just a friend? You swallowed.

Your breath lurched in your throat when the grip of your collar was released in turn for the hand to now encase around your throat fully. You gagged for a moment as the blond’s nails burned against your skin.

“Ransack the place!” The man who held your throat shouted over his shoulder. The two other men with him ran into your cabin and your squeezed shut eyes opened. You shoved the man’s hand off you, your neck burning as you pushed against his chest. He fell on the dirt as he groaned.

“Don’t! Leave my cabin alone!” You cried as you scurried to your feet. You didn’t get far before your ankle was grabbed and your leg yanked back. You tumbled ungracefully onto your chest, your nightdress riding up your legs and bum as you felt a weight on your back. The blond was sitting on you as you kicked. He held one of your arms behind your back and his other hand pushed your cheek into the dirt, holding your head down. “Stop it!” You cried into the earth as you heard sounds of destruction in your home.

Glass being thrown to the ground and broken, your shelves being pulled from the wall. You heard doors of cabinets opening and slamming shut after everything was pulled from them. The distant sounds of mess told you they were evening throwing things around in your room. You weren’t sure what they were looking for- evidence? But for what? Your connection with Yoongi to use against you?

“Hey!” One called from inside. “I found something!” Footsteps came back outside and stopped above your head. You were yanked up to sit on your knees- nightdress dirty and covered in small tears and frays of fabric- as the blond behind you snagged a hand in your hair pulling your head to look up. You winced as your eyes instinctively shut in pain before your chin was grabbed in a new hand.

A man stood in front of you, brown hair and accusatory eyes. In front of you, he dangled the scale of Yoongi’s he had given you that you had placed inside of a glass locket to keep it safe. You jolted in the blond’s grip, ripping your chin from the brunettes touch.

“Don’t touch that!” You screamed. The blond restrained you tighter. “Stop! That hurts!” You felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes.

You weren’t sure how long those men kept you outside your home as they continued to trash it. You were less sure how long you were out in the cold, pinned to the ground and jerked around like a toddlers ragdoll.

Stomps to your legs to keep you from crawling or getting up and away. Jabs to the stomach to subdue you just long enough to restraining you as you tried to get your breath back. Knocks to the head to try and knock you out as you kept on fighting back. The cold was starting to get to you, your fingers and toes going numb. Scraps on your knees and elbows from the cold, autumn chilled dirt.

You were on your back on the ground, the same blond over your, pushing your face down as your arms were trapped under his knees that pinned you on either side.

You were close to giving up. You were going to lose your home- you expected them to set it on fire- and you were going to no doubt end up losing your life if this kept up. Would they take you back to the village and execute you? Tears trailed down the side of your face as you chewed on your lip.

This wasn’t fair.

“Yoongi,” you whimpered as your palms pushed into the earth, the dirt and rocks pushing into your skin just painful enough to keep you conscious.

It seemed instantaneous to you. It felt like a whirlwind just formed at the center of your small world as the gusts of wind blew around you. The man above you was blown off as he rolled in the dirt away from your tired, weak, and beaten body. Whimpers of terror rang in your ears from the other men as growling accompanied those whimpers.

Stomping and rushes of heat surrounded you with ignited sparks in the night sky. You managed to push yourself over to weakly roll onto your side and twist onto your stomach to look up at exactly what was happening. You didn’t see anything in front of you other than your cabin and the three men all on the ground cowering from the sight of something.

Your dazed eyes narrowed before you heard another growl and the feeling of something massive standing over you. Coming to a stomping halt at either side of you with distance to spare and to not make you feel suffocated, your eyes widened. You felt more awake now than the rest of the evening.

Twisting to look up, you were met with the mighty, giant form of the wyvern you had freed from the metal trap of men. Snarling with bared fangs and small puffs of fire on his tongue, Yoongi stood over you protectively.

Tears ran down your shocked face without your control at seeing him really showing up at your side when you truly, desperately needed him with you. You felt weak, but before your body could slump onto the ground, something grabbed you.

Another new body had looped their arms under yours to keep your chest off the ground and held you to them. You didn't recognize this person as you looked up at them. Another man, but this seemed far more mystic.

Snow white eyes with no iris or pupils to sit in their seas of white. Illuminated scales of white shone on their cheeks and their ears were pointed and finned. Hair as silver as the moon and skin as tanned as cooper. Was this another dragon? You couldn’t tell anymore; all you knew was that you felt safe in this person’s arms with Yoongi above you.

You slumped against them, your consciousness finally starting to fade on you with the adrenaline running low now that you felt a sense of safety. You couldn’t lose it yet, however; you had to calm Yoongi down. The men had stopped their attack in fear, so Yoongi didn’t need to instigate further.

“Yoongi,” you called weakly against the second dragon’s chest. “Don’t,” you pleaded. There was a small hush before the wind picked up and the stomping that was present before was replaced with harsh footsteps. Yoongi had reverted back to human form as he ran at the blond man who had previously held you down.

Yoongi’s long claws tore and pierced through the shirt fabric of the blond’s collar as he brought him up to his nose, snarling down at him. His fists shook in rage as his body trembled with restraint in your presence. Had you not been there, he was certain he would have killed all three of them without hesitation.

He picked the blond off the ground just enough to make his toes leave the grass as he threw him at the other two. He huffed, steam blowing out of his nose as his face remained angry.

“You ever come back here and I, as Y/n’s personal dragon, will tear you apart,” he threatened. “Now, leave!” He roared as the three men scrambled embarrassingly to their feet and down the trail back to whatever hole they crawled out of.

Yoongi huffed, breathless as he quickly heard your whimpers behind him. He spun around, rushing back to your side as he knelt on the ground beside you and took you from the other dragon’s grasp. He ran the back of his fingers along your cheek as you saw him. His calm, worried face brought you a sense of peace as you knew the trouble had left.

“Rest,” he whispered as you finally lost yourself to the unconsciousness that had been choking you around the throat.

-x-x-x-

You groaned slightly as your eyes cracked open. You were on your back as your lidded eyes were blurred staring up at the ceiling of your room. You were in a haze as you looked into nowhere. Thoughts were muddled in your head as you were aware of nothing for a handful of minutes, still high from sleep and drowsiness.

The sun shone through your open window as you heard the birds outside sing. It was bright- far brighter than you were used to waking up to.

It all came back to you all at once like a punch to the jaw. Memories of being dragged out of your bed, your home, to outside and pummeled until you were weak in the dirt as your home was broken into and wrecked.

Your arms shot up from under your blanket as they threw the covers off and you sat up straight as a rob. You sucked in a deep breath that hitched in your throat from the sudden movement that clouded you with a wave of dizziness.

Your palm moved to push into your forehead as your eyes squeezed shut and you hissed. Cracking them open, you felt something burn into your side like someone staring at you. Looking beside your bed, you weren’t wrong.

Sat on a stool beside your bedroom door was that same unfamiliar dragon with snow white eyes from the night before. You stared back at the unmoving dragon. Was he… sleeping? His eyes were open, but his arms that were crossed didn’t even twitch and his body was still as a corpse. He sat straight up and showed no signs of movement.

Did some dragon’s sleep with their eyes open? Yoongi didn’t, but maybe other breeds did.

“It is a relief to see you’ve awakened,” he suddenly spoke. You squeaked in shock, not expecting him to do- much less say- anything. “It has been a handful of hours since you lost consciousness.”

You looked away from him as you looked down at your lap. You scrunch your blanket in your palms, the same palms that you were finally starting to feel the stinging sensation of when you were thrown to the dirt. The small cuts and scrapes on your knees and legs and arms all started to tingle with an indescribably unpleasant feeling.

“So, that wasn’t just a nightmare after all,” you sulked to yourself.

“It seems that Sire holds a great deal of worry about your condition.”

Your brows drew close together in confusion.

“Excuse me?” You asked, confusion painting around your eyes. This dragon with no expression and no irises with the pure white eyes just stared at you. “Sire? Who are you talking about? No,” you cut yourself off, shaking your head. “Who are you?” You re-ask, wanting to know this stranger dragon first. He was just sitting in your room watching over you, you figured an introduction wasn’t out of the question.

The dragon brought a webbed hand up to their chest, lowering their head to you in a small bow. You recoiled at such an action. No one had bowed to you before in your life- that was reserved for royals and people of importance. Not someone like you, a Woodlands hermit. The action made a blush fan across your cheeks in embarrassment.

“I am Navia. I work under Sire as the leader of the Dragon Guard of His Majesties palace. I apologize for not introducing myself earlier. It is a pleasure, My Lady.” His voice was smooth like the surface of a peaceful lake surrounded by nature. His usage of honorifics only made the embarrassing red cheeks of yours darken.

“Y-you don’t need to address me like that!” You sputtered as you twisted on your bed to slide your legs out of your covers and hang them over the bedside. “Just Y/n, is fine. I don’t need any titles,” your voice wavered in embarrassment as the white eyes of Navia returned to you.

“I do not know if I will be able to address you so casually. It may displease him.”

“You keep mentioning someone; Sire? Who is that exactly?” Navia never got a chance to answer when their was three knocks on your bedroom door before it was opened. The redness in your cheeks was broken and a smile pulled on your lips on seeing Yoongi in your doorway. “Yoongi!” You happily called as he quickly made his way to your bed, kneeling in front of you taking your hands into his own.

“How long have you been awake? Are you in pain?”

“I haven’t been up long, I was just talking to Navia and introducing ourselves. I don’t feel particularly good, but I don’t feel particularly bad either. Though, I feel better than I did if that’s anything to be accounted for.”

Yoongi’s eyes softened at your smile. You talked so easily and so soon after you were attacked so brutally. He wondered where you found the strength to do so. If he was in your position he’d be a pot of boiling rage, but he didn’t sense anything like that from you. Yet, instead he could see the sorrow behind your eyes.

“Navia,” he spoke as the dragon behind him stood at the call of his name. “Give us a moment,” Yoongi’s voice was stern with instruction.

“As you wish, Sire.” You looked at Navia as he left. You looked back down to Yoongi who was already looking at you as if you were the only thing he wanted to look at for the remainder of his life.

“Sire? So, he’s been talking about you?” You quirked your brow as Yoongi’s hand left yours and moved to cup around your cheek. “Yoongi?”

“There is a lot I haven’t told you and there are a lot of things we need to talk about. I didn't mean to lie- to keep it from you, but I just never had the chance to bring it up. Things about me I’ve kept from you.” You remained silent as he spoke no more. You both sat in silence for a while as you gathered your bearing.

Yoongi had taken to tending to you. You showed him once how to properly wrap bandages around wounds, and so he did. He wrapped any wound that seemed painful (which was many to his eyes) before he was helping you off your bed.

“Yoongi, I’m not so hurt I can’t walk myself,” you chuckled as he wrapped his arm around your back to support you. One of your arms clutched at the cape behind him as the other supported your balance on his chest. He held you to his side as he was careful not to rush his steps and trip you up.

“Still, you’re in no condition to be completely independent right now. Allow me to help you.” You almost scoffed at his aid as if you weren’t able to handle yourself, but you did appreciate it- especially when he didn’t need to offer such kindness.

As he helped you out of your room, you were shocked to see not a trashed cabin like you expected, but it was almost completely clean aside from the broken cabinet doors that sat against the wall in a pile. Whatever would have been broken was picked up and things were on the counter and on the table out of the way and where they belonged. A fire was even lit in the hearth of the fireplace.

You looked up to Yoongi. Did he clean it up? He helped you to the table where he sat you down on the chair by the window where you would normally drink something warm. You felt a little bad you hadn’t set out a plate of feed for the birds and critters today- but allowed yourself a pass considering your situation.

Navia was sitting by the fireplace as he watched the two of you. Yoongi moved to sit on the table’s edge- as unmanneristic as it was, it somehow suited him. He was in front of you against the wooden table, his fingers brushing along your cheek that had a patch over it to cover your cuts.

“Where would you like me to start, Scale?” He asked you. Your face deepened when he addressed you like that. Was that his form of a nickname? You shook the thought away as you opened your mouth.

“My cabin, I guess?” You realize you didn’t give him much of a specific answer. “I mean, I was expecting it to be a nightmare, but it’s so clean?”

“That is because I cleaned it up,” he softly told you with a small smile. So, you were right. “The times I have been here, I was familiar with the placements of most of your belongings. Others I admit I guessed, but I couldn’t leave it like it was. You have enough to worry about.”

“Well, thank you for that,” you graciously tell him.

“It was nothing.” You spent a good portion of that day talking to Yoongi where you were. If you wanted to get up and move to take a break from the flood of answers to any question you had, he would help. Navia would walk around and do small chores for you if you were kind enough to ask- or have Yoongi tell him to. The tanned dragon was awfully obedient, yet kind to a fault it seemed.

The shortened days of winter were showing as the sky started to progressively darken. You watched it from the window of the cabin you had been in all day. It had been a long time since you spent all your time inside without much of anything to do. It was relaxing even if under unpleasant circumstances.

Yoongi had handed you a mug of something warm for your throat as you thanked him and took small, cautious sips due to its heat. Yoongi watched you as you watched outside, the occasional chuckles slipping past your lips when you saw birds or squirrels chase each other around.

“Y/n,” Yoongi called as Navia had taken his place back by the fireplace. He was, unsurprisingly, not fond of the cold so he had stuck to the fireplace like glue as often as he could. “Do you want to leave this cabin?”

His question caught you off guard. You lowered your mug to the table top as you looked at him.

“What?”

Yoongi’s mouth was pressed into a thin line as his eyes were narrowed in a veil of anxiousness. In truth he didn’t want you to live here anymore. What happened the night before could very well happen again and what if he didn’t get to you in time next time? What if next time they drag you off or even kill you? He couldn’t handle that. He didn’t even want to think about it.

“If I left,” you chuckled bitterly as you looked back outside, “where would I go? I can’t just live in a cave or in trees.”

“You could come back with me.” There was silence in the cabin’s front room. The sound of the fire crackling and the small sounds from outside your walls. “Come back with me to Dragon Country and live there.”

��That’s impossible,” you told him. “I am no dragon. How could I live there?” You half expected Navia from behind to slip into the conversation and throw in his opinion on the matter. You, a human leaving the Woodlands and running off to live in Dragon Country? There was no way, it was preposterous. “Why take me back anyways?”

“Dragon’s are only able to choose one being to become absolutely loyal to without fault in their lives. We live for years, decades, centuries. The oldest of dragon’s can live for hundreds of human lifetimes, so we are especially picky when it comes to our choice.”

“What does that have to do with me?” You asked.

“I said so before, I am your dragon.” That’s right. You did remember him saying that in his rage the night before. Something about being your personal dragon and threatening the men not to try another attack stunt again.

“So, then-”

“I chose you,” he admitted. You felt your air leave you in silent waves. “Out of all things I’ve met of my years alive, you were the first to treat me kindly without expecting anything in return. You were my first in many things that warmed my being. That is why I want you to come back with me.”

You opened your mouth then shut it again before you shook your head, trying to process his words. You took a shaky breath and looked back to him again.

“Say I agreed, isn’t it too dangerous? I mean, you might be with me, sure, but I’m still just a human woman. What could I possibly do so you wouldn’t have to protect me all the time? Wouldn’t I just be a constant risk?”

“That would not be the case,” he told you sternly. “I would see to it that every dragon be made aware of who you are. Once they know, they wouldn’t dare lay a talon on you unless they’re turncoats.” Yoongi sounded so serious, you almost believed him. “They would treat you better than these humans ever have,” he promised.

“How are you so sure?” You narrowed your eyes at him, challenging his word. He sure sounded high and mighty for proposing something that sounded so risky.

“Because I’m your dragon,” he repeated. You almost groaned and rolled your eyes. You felt like you were running in circles with him.

“What does that have to do with anything?” So what? You get to boss around and rely on a dragon. As legitimately remarkable as that is, you didn’t seem to connect that to your safety in his country.

“Because my Master in question- you- would be commanding the dragon in charge of Dragon Country.” There was a beat of silence.

What.

“So, you’re claiming to be what? The King of Dragon Country? Am I just supposed to believe that?”

“Yes, you are.” He told you with a straight face. There was no sign of lying or hesitation. He seemed so sure and serious of himself that you were questioning yourself of his truth.

“But that’s-”

“If I may,” Navia spoke, cutting you off from behind you as Yoongi shot him a glare for interrupting you. You turned to look at the white-eyed dragon as his tanned skin shone with the fire’s casted light. “It’s wise to know that the King detests liars and lies in general.”

Your eyes widened as you whipped your head back to Yoongi who was still shooting the other dragon a look before he returned his sights back to you.

“Oh my Gods, you’re serious.”

The night concluded a long, well-rounded talk about just who Yoongi really was. Finding out he was a king was one thing, but it was harder to understand that you were now in charge and in command of that king. You felt simultaneously all powerful and powerless.

In the end, you did agree to go back with him; however, under one condition.

-x-x-x-

You sat at your desk in your room, scribbling line after line of ink on a piece of parchment. It had been a week since your ‘unfortunate situation’ as you called it and you were healing well. You fixed your cabin the best you could and moving around like normal again was easier by the day. You could already almost chop firewood again- not that you actually were. You had no reason to stock up anymore.

On your bed was a bag. One that was large and had the flap open to show the contents inside. A few folded dresses and one of your leather corsets that wasn’t completely ruined. Jars and bottles of salves, potions, crushed herbs, flowers, and sacks of roots and leaves. Even your favorite cup and a knowledgeable book about medicine. All neatly packed.

You stretched as you leaned back in your chair and looked out the window to your room. You smiled as a bittersweet feeling fluttered in your stomach.

You looked down at the letter you had just finished as you folded it up and placed it inside of an envelope before writing the name of to whom it would be addressed on the front.

Your windows rattled with a gust of wind outside. You smiled as you got up from your desk and grabbed your bag. You tossed the flap of ti over the bag, the large button in the flap of it looping through a latch to close it securely. You threw the long strap over your shoulder as you grabbed the letter from your desk and opened your bedroom door.

You stopped, turning to look at the room once more. It was clean, bed made and everything neat and tidy. You smiled sadly at your space before you said goodbye to it. You felt silly saying farewell to a room.

When you walked into the main room, Yoongi had already let himself in. He smiled at you when he saw you. Just as you had asked him a week ago, he had left you alone for the last 7 days. That was your condition, even if he grumbled about it. You wanted one last week on your own in your lifelong home- that was all.

He walked to you and grabbed your arm gently before bending to softly push his lips against his cheek. You jolted as you covered your skin with your hand.

“What was that for?” You asked, flushed.

“Simply, because.”

“That is not an answer,” you scowled. “Did Navia come with you?” You asked peering around his back to look.

“Of course he didn’t. I don’t need an escort.”

“Of course you don’t,” you giggle. You walked around your cabin, running your fingers over the surface of your counters, your fireplace’s bricks, your dining table and around the window frames. You took everything into your memory even though this was the only home you ever had. Maybe that was why you felt like crying.

“Are you unwell?” Yoongi asked, coming up behind you and placing his hands on your shoulders. He could see how hard this was for you even without you looking at him directly. He knew this was his selfish wish, but if you really wanted to stay he wouldn’t drag you away.

“I feel like I'm homesick, but I haven’t even left yet,” you chuckle as your eyes stung. One of Yoongi’s hands moved to rest on your head as he pushed his cheek against the top of his hand to lean against your head.

“It will be alright,” he soothed.

“I know,” you chocked.

You spent a little while longer in your lifelong home before you felt like you were finally as ready as you’d ever be to leave. You feared if you stayed too much longer you’d root into your floorboard and then you’d never move again. As you walked out of the house, you took the key that hung on the inside of the door frame and took it out with you. You didn’t lock the cabin door, instead you placed the key on the outside doorknob.

This cabin would be welcoming to anyone who needed it, that was what the key hanging outside the space signified.

“Are you sure you’re ready?” Yoongi asked for the umpteenth time, earning him an eye roll from you.

“Yes, now take me away or else I’ll start ugly crying.” He chuckled before he was walking with you out of the Woodlands and when you reached the edge of the lands, he transformed into his wyvern form. You climbed onto his neck just behind his head so you could clutch onto his horns (or his ears, whichever worked best with your grip) before he was flying off with you completely.

Leaving that cabin, the humans and one single letter on the dining table addressed to ‘Villagers’ behind for good.

-x-x-x-

“Father! Look, is this what you were talking about?” A small child cheered as he ran through the Woodlands and came across a small cabin that was covered in overgrowth. The wood had been overrun with vines and moss. Small tree saplings sprung from the wood above on the roof and weeds overtook the ground that was once all dirt. The trunk that had once been used to chop wood years and years ago had a sapling of a new tree ready to grow in the next hundred years.

Nests of birds, holes and burrows of moles and squirrels littered the area.

The child ran around the perimeter of the cabin, eyeing it up and down as small plumes of red smoke puffed through their nostrils in excitement.

“I’ve never seen a human house before!”

“Juilius, come back to me before you trip or get caught in a vine.”

The child trotted back to his father who had come to the Woodlands simply to show his son what the home of a human looked like. Although, times have changed and this is certainly not how humans lived anymore. This cabin was long forgotten to time and nature had long since reclaimed it.

The visit was short and sweet to a degree as the child was soon ushered to be ready to leave. “Your mother wants you home at a reasonable time. We can’t keep her waiting.”

“I’m coming,” the child cheered as he started leaving the Woodlands with his father’s hand in his own. “Will I get to fly part of the way back this time? I swear I can!”

“Alright, you can until we hit the first mountain peak; but don’t tell your mother.”

“I won’t!” He promised.

Landing peacefully in Dragon Country and arriving safely at the palace, the child giggled happily to himself on how well he was able to fly on his own and how his wings were getting stronger day by day.

“Yes, but you still can’t retract your scales yet, now can you?” His father teased. Juilius pouted as his brick red scales refused to fade in his human form.

“Well,” a voice called to them in a happy tone. “You look just like your father when you pout like that with your scales out.”

“Mother!” Juilius cheered as he ran to his mother’s arm, clinging to her as he was picked up and nuzzled into her neck. “Father took me to the Woodlands today. He said that there was a cabin in the woods where you used to live, so he let me see it!”

You blinked down at your blush-cheeked scaled child. “Oh did he? I hope he didn’t let you fly at that dangerous height.”

“Nope!” The child grinned as innocent as can be- keeping his promise to his father in the small little white lie.

“You always assume the worst of me. Don’t you, Scale?” Yoongi teased as he came to your side with your child on your chest as his legs kicked playfully on either side of your hips. He was young, only a decade old. He was still a hatchling when it came right down to dragon ages.

“I wouldn’t go that far.”

“Mother, can you tell me about the humans?”

“You’re always so curious about them. Why do you want to know, Hatchling?”

“Well, you used to be one right? Father said you only got your scales and horns when you came here.”

“Well, then that is going to be a long story. It’s only right if your father helps tell part of it too. It is his fault I became a dragon in the first place,” you looked at Yoongi as he cleared his throat. “Isn’t that right, Your Majesty.”

“I really don’t know what you could be referring to,” he sheepishly retorted, looking away. As Juilius tried annoying the answer out of his father, he just shushed him. “I’ll tell you when you’re older.”

“That’s not fair,” the child pouted.

“My Lady,” your attention was called from Navia who had finally tracked you down. His white eyes glowing down the halls like nighttime fireflies as he approached. “A new hatchling was born in the valley this morning and it’s mother asked if you would be gracious enough to name them.”

Your eyes shined. “I’d love to,” you said as you set Juilius down and kissed his forehead. You moved to kiss Yoongi’s cheek as you allowed Navia to escort you away. The dragon child took his father’s hand.

“So, what mother said about how she became a dragon; why do I need to wait until I grow up to know? Is it some kind of big dragon secret?” Yoongi’s face flushed as he cleared his throat again and was soon leading his son off somewhere else to clean up after his day out.

“I already told you, not until you’re older.”

Who knew that the exchanging of the blood and saliva of the king of dragons was able to gradually change humans into dragons? Yoongi certainly never knew until one morning you woke up with scales dusting your cheeks after a rather specific night.

To which would soon be the outcome of the pestering royal child, Juilius.

-END-

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