#maybe ill finally be able to afford this game
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using this pixelated traumatized elf as motivation to get my degree
#astarion#hear me out#maybe ill finally be able to afford this game#maybe we can use the hyperfixation to our advantage#ill go cry in a corner thinking of this man btw#bye#baldur's gate 3#bg3#do it for him
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bit of thinking outloud but for my current tactician run im doing a special wyll origins playthrough im calling the Evil Wyll Run & it’s given me a lot of food for thought about his character (or at least the freedom of psychological movement + exploration afforded to an origin run!)
wyll spoilers abound we’re entering the wyllenium here
wyll always felt a bit underwritten to me - i know that’s partially because there was that big kerfuffle in the 11th hour with changing his whole story and personality on top of having to recast his VA, and frankly hats off to both original VA lanre malaolu & new VA theo solomon for their hard work - both brought tremendous performances, & i sincerely hope mr malaolu was paid well for his work & time even if his voice wasn’t used in the final cut (i would also say warlock as a class itself felt a bit underdeveloped but im 100% OK with chalking that up to me the player not understanding how to play warlock effectively yet lol im more of a fighter barbarian Hit Stuff guy)
but honestly this feeling of being “underwritten” combined with a character with a long history of heroism in his pocket made wyll really interesting to me even in my tav playthrough. for all his accomplishments he still feels like a blank everyman, or like he’s someone who fully believes he’s the main character who doesn’t “need” to do any extra work on himself - and honestly he feels Very much like he could be The Main Character. once his backstory of the son of the duke was revealed too i immediately got the sense of like, rich boy trying to prove his worth beyond his wealth and status by striking out & becoming that hero, or that Prince Charming. basically that perfect happily ever after somebody. and im of the opinion that you don’t get mixed up with a cambion in the first place unless you’re either the kind of naïve “everything will just work out” immature that tends to comes with his status as the son of a noble, or you’re hungering for power. depending on playstyle he’s very easily both of these things
on the naïve front (ie a good wyll playthrough) if anything he feels very believably immature, & from that perspective the events of the game feel as though they’re the prequel to the actual start of wyll's story where he finally finds himself & learns what kind of man he really is. we just dont get to see it alas, but i really enjoyed the thought exercise of somebody still grappling with overcoming his own immaturity. he feels like someone who can still grow and that his tale is just beginning
Evil Wyll (meaning any time mizora shows up he drops everything to enact her instruction & hasnt once tried to find a loophole out of his contract) which ive come to be far more fascinated by is someone clearly vying for power, which is interesting because his noble status would’ve given him all the power he wants had he Played Nice. to me it speaks of someone who wants to be able to take what he wants from life without it being handed to him, which contrasts in a really fascinating way with entering into a warlock pact at all. maybe he thought it was better that it be a decision he made as opposed to nobility given to him by his family ties, maybe there’s still that pollyanna sentiment of “it’ll just work out & ill live happily ever after.” again maybe both. maybe in a sense the fiend, as he calls himself, is a good excuse to shuck off any poor decision he makes or any genuinely heinous thing he does under mizora’s instruction - an identity he uses as power fantasy (and very much in tandem/interchangeable with the blade of frontiers power fantasy) until it means taking ownership for any of his misdeeds, and then a scapegoat.
may be a bit incoherent but im only now hitting act 3 in my origin run & im Really enjoying this difficult characterization ive cooked up for myself lol
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i had to put my sweet baby down yesterday...
on thursday morning he was fine, eating and drinking fine. nothing out of the ordinary. thursday night he seems to have trouble breathing, he had discharge around his eyes, and kept making these pained noises I've never heard him make before. he had no appetite and wasnt drinking water. i bought some critical care to try force feeding him but he wasnt accepting it at all and tried to give him a mix of pedialyte + water to get him fluids and he accepted some but not a lot. i thought he maybe had some upper respiratory infection and maybe needed antibiotics, so i started calling some veterinarians in my area.
it was really late at night too so i called around and had such a hard time finding a vet to treat him bc most of the animal hospitals either:
-serviced guinea pigs
-their exotic vet wasnt in that night
-serviced guinea pigs but was closed
i was scared to even go to sleep that night bc his conditioned looked so bad, i didnt think he would even make it to the morning. but he managed to survive the night, so i called around again and was able to find a vet about 40 min away that could take him. we enter the hospital and they immediately take him in and i was in the waiting room. the doc comes out to talk to me to explain what was happening.
he had a stone in his bladder that was blocking his urethra and he couldn't urinate. bladder stones can be very life threatening bc if an animal cant pee, it can develop an infection (sepsis) and even get a heart attack. when she examined him, everytime she palpated his bladder he would be in pain, so they gave him a pain injection. they lead me into a room to explain what his treatment would consist of, and i was fucking shocked.
nearly $5k for his surgery and treatment, i couldn't fucking believe it. the worst part is there really was no plan b on his treatment that wasn't euthanasia. i felt so fucking sick, but i had to think on it more. i thought about maybe calling other animal hospitals but i already had a lot of trouble trying to find anyone to treat him at all, and even if there was a miracle situation where i could afford his treatment, it would not guarantee that he wouldnt fall ill again. on top of the fact that guinea pigs are really fragile creatures and dont have very long life spans. the procedure is incredibly invasive and could put so much stress on his little body. i didnt want him to be in more pain than he really was.
so i made the tough decision on putting him down, because i didn't want him to suffer any longer. i'm so heartbroken bc although i knew we would part ways one day, i didnt imagine it would be so soon. we spent past 3 years together, i adopted him mid pandemic bc being stuck in a different country from the rest of my family is incredibly isolating. i gave him so much love and spoiled him so much. he ate veggies & hay to his hearts content, would start cui-cuing at the sound of a bag being opened, he got to sleep in the largest and comfiest pet beds. he used to sleep on my nap while i gamed or watched shows. he was very skittish with people, except for me bc he knew i would give him the world. i'm feeling so defeated rn. i stayed with him til the very last moment, he was very sedated but soo cuddly in the last hour. the only thing to bring me peace of mind is knowing he was relaxed and in no pain in his final moments.
he doesn't know the amount of people that love him around the world, even as far as Australia. he had an impact on many people. all my irls and my online friends absolutely adored him. even my mom, who is deathly afraid of rodents, thought he was so cute and precious bc of how fluffy he is. his departure left a huge hole in my heart. when i got back home, i bursted into tears looking at his empty enclosure. im so used to him jumping around and getting quirked up when he hears me enter my room. i just cant believe i'll never get to see him, or hold him, or even feed him again.
Rest in Peace, my beloved Taro.
I love you so dearly, you may very little but you had a very huge heart.. and appetite. You will always be missed and I hope you are enjoying large quantities of lettuce in cui cui heaven.
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There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask…I don’t have access to a lot of original Bangtan content so please bear with me. And please, correct me if I’ve seen edited versions of this.
There’s an episode of Run BTS (I think? - I saw this clip as part of a compilation) where Jungkook’s penalty is to let his members spend his money or to buy everyone whatever they picked at a store. And Jimin sneaks in a hat/beanie. And Jungkook kind of gets upset when he figures it out? Why get upset if your s/o is getting something?
Let me explain: First off, I am not a troll. I generally take all their interactions with a pinch of salt because we don’t know what they are or aren’t until they tell us. Second, I do think there’s more to them because there are some sus moments or moments that make me go 👀 but here is the thing - there isn’t enough to ‘confirm anything’ and so this is one of those moments that made me think, well maybe there isn’t much to them, maybe they flirt, maybe they explored but that’s all because if Jimin did indeed sneak in a beanie, Jungkook should have been okay with it or should have not gotten upset?
Okay, well ill answer this like perhaps you've just never tried googling anything, but you DO have access to original BTS content. ESPECIALLY RUN BTS EPISODES. That is free content love. And its on MUTLIPLE PLATFORMS. Vlive has recently shut down, but it used to be up on Vlive AND weverse for FREE. It's still currently up on Weverse for FREE. It's now also up on Bangtan TV YouTube in playlists... for free. Plus if you also just type into the YouTube "run bts ep x" tons of videos will pop up of subbed episodes ARMYs have essentially just copied over. Like run bts episodes are the easiest content to get access to. So not watching them is 100% a choice you make, not an inability to find or afford it. Which even for paid content, most ARMYs will upload things places for others to be able to watch for free. And I'm generally always happy to help people find links and get access to the content if I can.
I promise I'm not trying to come off as rude, but please, try to watch original content. Please. Especially when it's free or when you know of people (like me) who are more than happy to help link people to content in various different ways if you cannot afford to purchase it or cannot find it somewhere to purchase anymore because the content is too old (like memories or concert DVDs). I share links on here all the time. The episode you are looking for here is episode 70 though.
youtube
It's like 3 minutes in. JK loses at rock paper scissors and then has to buy everyone (who played and won) hoodies. He runs, grabs his wallet and basically says "I'll buy everyone one" and treats his hyungs. Who take FULL ADVANTAGE and tease the hell out of him and joke about buying everything, not just hoodies and spending all of JKs money. Tossing up shoes and hats and taking forever and going all through the store as JK keeps trying to corrale everyone and figure out who is buying what and hurry everyone along. Jimin kept saying he wouldn't get something snd then teasingly, jokingly, snuck in a hat. And JK was all confused at where the hat came from and RM snitched. Telling JK it was Jimin. Who was then confused because Jimin said he wasn't going to buy something and then teased Jimin back about going back on what he said. Jimin teased more saying he won the game so he should get it. RM starts joking about how its a freebie. Jimin starts hugging JK and laughing. As JK continues looking for the rest of his hyungs to finally finish checking out. Lol
Corraling 6 people through the store as they are all being silly is an exhausting experience. You should try it anon. Lol but he wasn't upset. He went right back to smiling and continued to shop with everyone too and agreed to buying everyone all their extras too. And then used that to try and ask for special treatment from them back at the house for buying all their clothes.
I genuinely don't care if you think they are just friends, or fuck buddies, or in deep passionate love. Lol but PLEASE watch original content! It's so fun, you will have a blast and it's honestly way better than compilations. I promise. You get ALL the context. Episode 70 is a continuation episode from 69 and continues into 71 too btw. And if you have any clips where you don't know where it came from, I promise, I am super happy to help you with finding the original video for it. I'm generally pretty decent at finding sources for BTS. Lol
Hope this helped and hope you enjoy watching the episode too! 💜💜
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tips and tricks I have learned in my 9 years of being mostly bedridden from ME/CFS
the first 5 years of illness was a battle and hellscape I physically dont have the capacity to process emotionally and if thats were your at as well your incredible friend, I have finally managed to get security payments and a place to live (much to be desired but its way way away from the dire circumstances I was under for years. my heart goes out to those in situations I was in)
Tip number 1:
-reframing and restructuring my goals and expectations
I was able to do this by saying that sick me is different then able bodied me. Sick me is accomplished for each day they make it to the next day. It also comes from recognizing the ‘idols’ or those that came before me in my same position and looking up to them and gleaning their knowledge. Jessica Kellegren-Fozard has been this idol for me. She goes about life with grace, love and wonder and has taught me alot on how to navigate a disabled life and to love it and have fun with it.
tip 2:
-discovering what limits my body has and keeping within those parameters (no matter how pitiful or limited it may feel) staying inside the limits means I can do more overall and refrain from boom and bust crashes
tip 3:
-REST DAYS. what an abled bodied person can accomplish in a day I might be able to do in a week. Do something one day then the next day rest. Rinse and repeat.
tip 4:
-if you ignored rest days or simply find yourself in a crash the adrenaline kick you get that makes you feel like you have energy and should do something is a trap, rest. Rest day for you! If you’ve rested and rested and rested and feel the worst youve ever felt and so hopeless that youll never return to even your base line that is the day before you are actually getting better, keep resting and cheer yourself on and comfort yourself your doing amazing.
tip 5:
-get any aid device you feel you need, (even if you feel like well maybe I dont need it maybe im just exaggerating. No. If it’s reasonably priced or you can get it through other means do. Aids are great) I love my cane. I love my rollater. Love my eyemask. Love my eyepatch. Love my shower stool. Love my sunglasses. Love my stand that holds my phone. Love my medicine bag. Love my trays that hold my miscellaneous aid tools. Love my humidifier and heater. Love my weighted blanket. Love my fidget toys and my kalimba. Would love to see if an oxygen tank might help not sure on how to go about that yet and would love a wheelchair but would need a motorized one and cant afford it (also for me I wouldn’t be able to use it much because i cant sit up for long)
tip 6:
-drinking electrolytes after my roughly weekly shower. This was a game changer for me really helped recovery rest day. Coconut water, lemon juice, gatorade, salt water, all good choices.
tip 7:
-celebrating my accomplishments. I choose to do this on the ‘birth’ of my sick self. The date of my illness was very clear and its a date I wont forget so why not make it a party to celebrate what Ive done throughout the year. Always when I approach this day I feel so down on myself because it often feels like I do literally nothing but lay in bed but when I actively go through the months and things I did on top of the victory of surviving another year I find Ive done much more then I give credit for and im so proud of myself.
tip 8:
-my weighted blanket is the greatest thing in the world. (This one may not apply for others as it can be rough to manage the heft but for me whose been an insomniac my entire life this absolutely changed my life and I can not sleep any other way, I feel like a door to door ((floor to floor)) salesman because all I want to do is share the good news)
tip 9:
-gaming has made a big impact for my social and emotional health and im very pleased and surprised by how much it has a positive effect. Very fortunately I was able to buy a device for a form fitting keypad and mouse its really great and made gaming possible with less pain.
tip 10:
-Keep a few food bars/snacks by bed.
this concludes my list off the top of my head. my eyes are getting tired now so I shall rest. Rest well other chronically ill friends!
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Hi hi! I've only played the Crimson Court dlc once so I've never wondered about this before, but I was reading a fic that mentioned how the Fanatic has a cure for the curse. Do you have a headcanon on how he got that? I can't recall whether is it a definitive cure or if just temporary, because if it's a definitive cure that's very impressive!
hello hello! hope you're fine and thank you for the ask :}
now i feel like Crimson Curse expert all of the sudden but i'm honoured you're asking me about it ^^
regarding your question - it is true! one of the ways to cure your Crimson Cursed heroes is, in fact, hunting the Fanatic, as defeating him drops a consumable item labelled simply as "The Cure":
Tooltip reads:
Its origin and ingredients unknown,
but this tincture will quell the Curse. (sic)
and it's a consumable that, if used on a cursed hero, permanently cures them from Crimson Curse, regardless of its stage. the cured hero can be re-infected but this is the only way to cure the Curse before endgame (where you have the Sanatorium being able to do it after defeating the final boss of the Court) and without defeating any of the CC bosses (the event "A Veil Lifted" which cures all of the infected).
this item also can somewhat explain how Fanatic is keeping himself Curse-free while fighting the infected, but from the looks of it, it comes at the expense of everyone around him. which is doubly funny (and a lot more insidious in-universe) if you consider that the only place you cannot get an encounter with him is... well, the Courtyard itself. the very "den of the plague" he is trying to purge. ironic, isn't it?
i understand the game limitations of why it is coded like that. the in-universe lore implications (or rather theories) of those limitations, however... well. let's look closer, shall we?
some people speculate that Fanatic cannot enter the Courtyard because he doesn't have "the invitation" that you get if you kill the Gatekeeper mob. this would indicate that he respects the authority of Bloodsuckers over the Court, which is... weird, for a zealous fanatic. why would having no invitation stop him? he could just get in and do his job. I can understand why the Heir(ess) would try to play "nice" with a den of Bloodsuckers just near their town: if you won't play by Bloodsuckers' rules, Bloodsuckers won't play by their rules either, and Hamlet, in canon, is in no shape to withstand an onslaught of pissed mosquitoes. the town is a sitting duck, and in no position to anger the neighbour substantially. especially considering already present threats from other areas (canon swine attacks on villages, brigand raids, as well as Shrieker raids from the Weald and attacks on ships from the Cove). Hamlet cannot afford to piss the Court off all at once.
unlike a single, highly skilled man who (supposedly) has no base and just hunts those things everywhere they happen to be. wouldn't he be able to get away with this? he should be, right. he has the equipment. if you win, you get bloodsucker-fighting trinkets.
however, I have a much more prosaic and dark headcanon: he's scared to go there. Fanatic knows how risky it is, he knows that he’ll get killed if he steps into the Courtyard. so he simply... doesn’t. he doesn’t go and actually try and fix the problem, he’s “treating” the symptoms.
and by “treating” I mean stalking infected humans.
who are weaker than “true” Bloodsuckers. who are confused, maybe ill from extreme body transformations, probably scared of themselves, of their changes and sudden urges and can barely control themselves. villagers and travellers who would probably trust “a holy man” who promised them salvation from this odd ailment.
and all those people... end up on pyres.
think about it. when you meet him in combat, there are always - and I do mean always - people burning in the background. hell, even your own heroes end up on the pyre during the fight. we also know that surrounding areas, too, have suffered from Bloodsuckers. the initial quest is about a man who died from mosquito bites after he found a way into the Courtyard - which, again, dismantles (at least, for me) the idea of Fanatic being unable to get into the Courtyard if he really wanted to.
the town event after the Court is revealed reads:
Intolerable! Clouds of mosquitoes and other, less identifiable pests continue to descend upon the Hamlet with maddening persistence! Illness and irritation abound (sic)
so mosquitos canonically pester people around. mosquitos which, canonically, can transfer this Curse. it's not just your heroes who succumb to the Curse. it's just that as an Heir(ess) you, personally, are only bothered with your heroes, as their well-being and symptoms cause you to haemorrhage money and you can't simply dismiss them. therefore, Fanatic always have an abundant amount of bodies to shove into the flames.
seriously, with the number of pyres he needs, the dude has to constantly chop wood every waking moment of every day that he's not out there hunting your parties.
and that got me thinking.
he always has wood. he always knows when your party which consists of infected leaves towns. he always has bodies burning.
I believe he's leading a cult.
there has to be someone who helps him. if you tried to play the game you know how much everything costs. food, equipment, items, tools - it all costs money. you can meet Fanatic everywhere, anytime, unless you're following a very specific boss route. so someone informs him of your movement. someone provides him with all he needs to sustain himself and his fires. and frankly, if surrounding villages do start succumbing to the Curse and the guy offers a solution, albeit a horrible one... well... it's Darkest Dungeon. we all know those guys would accept without thinking twice.
that's why you never see him deep in the Courtyard - he doesn't have to throw himself into real danger to feel accomplished, to stroke his self-righteousness and to be convinced that he's "helping". he has a lot of victims - that's true. but that is not helping with the root of the problem.
now, regarding why and how he has the Cure.
well, he is clearly shown to be the priest of the Light (considering his relics), or at least, he believes himself to be one. based on Vestals, Crusaders, and the altars you can find and purify in Ruins, the Light canonically can create miracles if you do it favours and believe hard enough. considering that the guy is called Fanatic, we can safely assume his belief levels are off the charts. and he has a lot of "martyrs". so... that may upset a lot of people, but I think the Cure (and the reason why you cannot get it made) is made out of those burned people. it's martyred ashes and holy water and a lot of self-assuredness. after all, holy water canonically harms cursed heroes (stress and blight if I recall correctly) if they are in a Bloodlust state. so it does something to their cursed bodies. just not enough.
if it's distilled and mixed some more, and purified by a person who sees himself as infallible... well. who knows. but the purity seals, the prayer beads and the overall Light symbolic on the Cure's bottle, mixed with previous awful things happening in DD universe (from Outsiders bonfire having Swine instead of a pig to all of the messed up occult rituals, all of the messed up practices of the Church of the Light, and Ancestor of all things...), it wouldn't surprise me to have this be the basis of the Cure. suffering. pure, distilled, holy (in the most horrible way of that word) human suffering.
wouldn't it be poetic too, in a way? horrible, sure, but... interesting? pooling the suffering of dozens so that the suffering of one could be lifted. the moral choice it presents.
I wish we knew better about the cure. I wish it provided this moral question. I wish heroes had some barks about using it. but alas. we can only speculate, as far as I'm aware. so, I'm speculating to my heart's content.
hope this theory was fun for you to read :}
#my shoebox of letters#fan theory#darkest dungeon#crimson curse#dd fanatic#headcanon#darkest dungeon worldbuilding#the bloodied journal page || my writing
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My oc name: Colette
Gender:female
Personality:Kind/smart/sassy
Hobbies:writing/piano/art /games
Age 15
Author:now on the story
Colette pov
It was a Sunday it was about 8:00 pm in my room l was on the phone at the time l had heard about the doki doki literature club game and watched it on YouTube l honestly didn't like horror infact if l was in a horror game l would be hiding the whole entire time and would be way to scared to
Even think about come out of my hiding spot and l just stuck with the wholesome mods and trust l wouldn't get Jumpscared or it being scary like the original doki doki literature club game l was going to watch the male mod the next night after my first day of highschool
And l actually like the male mod as well Minus the scary parts l avoid l even simp for some of the characters but im now gonna have a different life and tomorrow is the day l go to highschool make some friends find
A best friend maybe even fall in love with someone who is sweet trustable and loyal maybe like in those fluff stories l like or like the ore monogatari anime l put my phone on my desk then lay down on my bed and fall asleep
Wait a minute isn't this the mc's room the one us players play as no no it can't be l looked down at my Clothes l was in my night clothes relieved l wasn't in a male body but l still felt panicked because I'm stuck in a game my family which is my brother and my parents by the way are gone and my
Entire life is just poof flushed down the toilet l was gonna go to high school and finally after my seven months of hard work trying get my education level up to highschool and yes I agree that it will be very useful in this world but thats besides the point
And finally going to make some friends to besides my family and not be lonely for once and also there are no background characters in the doki doki literature club game literally none like in that one mod where we went to places but didn't hear or see a single background character
And the only friends ill be making besides the everyone in the literature club is nonexistent background characters! I cried in my pillow
Which means even if l try to go to another club that is not the literature club ill just get dragged there by sayori for the sake of the plot and the only friends ill be having in this game is Yuri natsuki sayori and Monika
I grabbed my phone next to me and saw a notification that says if you complete the entire game you will go back to your world it says and it was from an anonymous person
Then l got another message saying but be warned if Moniko deletes even one character from the game its game over
Allright I'm gonna have to form a plan to make sure that doesn't happen and wait! Moniko so this is the male version of the game
And knowing that its going to be scary just makes me shiver and feel really uneasy l check what time it is and its 8:00 am and l don't know what time school starts so l looked online
What time highschool starts and it starts about 8:30 l got myself ready for school brushed took a shower and put on my uniform that was in my drawer im still not quite used to this room
Or wearing an anime girl skirt l don't want to be caught up in a weird anime situation so l wear shorts under and my school bag and took a moment to look around the house
Wow this house looks really nice l wonder how he can even afford to live here let alone be able to pay the bills here oh l forgot anime logic l said as l opened the door
Then l went to the front of his house and I called sayori to see if he was awake he answered yes and told me he was almost finished getting ready for school then he came out of his house
And man l will admit he did look cute but l also felt alittle bit nervous seeing him for the first time upfront because l wasn't used to meeting an anime character let alone talking to one l also felt oddly close to him like he really was my childhood friend
As we were walking to school with sayori he was talking about how l should join a club speaking of club he asked me to join the literature club l told he yes because not only try to win the game but also to figure out a plan to win the game and plus l secretly liked making poems and I have never read manga before which is also a plus ill need to some alone time to form a plan
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how about 17 and 24? what inspires you and how do you deal with art block?
Long post warning.
Art block...
I don't actually get art block, which is probably a combination of neurodivergence and drawing every day for the last 3 years
I wrote an entire tutorial about how to do that, but didn't feel like illustrating it. Would people want to read it even without visuals?
Maybe... I'll just start rambling.
There's a couple different types of art block, and it's really just a philosophy puzzle to get past them. I'm going to assume that the things I think of slow days, or art mud, is a milder form of art block and work through that.
Art block is a symptom, not a disease. You probably have something deep inside that you don't want to face, or don't know how. Sometimes you need to discover the cause, sometimes just power through.
Method 1: Rest
Let yourself just Exist. The act of consuming art is part of the process. Watching shows and playing games, taking a break and going gardening or focus on school. This is what you need for burnout-induced art block.
Method 2: Action
I always choose action, sometimes it means a tiny 2 min sketch per day. Ugly or super simplified. As long as I don't stop moving.
Toss everything. Start every piece thinking you will throw it away.
The act of drawing moves you forward; pinning it to the fridge does not. Don't work things until they are perfect. Work them until they are there.
Art block causes and solutions:
- No Inspiration
Not sure what to draw, nothing seems appealing. Art won't come out like it used to.
Do studies from life or photos. Sketch, paint, digital, traditional, doesn't matter. Rocks, fruit, figure drawing, landscapes, buildings, anything.
Study and copy professional's work. Old masters are best, like rubens, michalangelo (only his men tho) etc because they will teach you anatomy while you work. If you copy someone with a lot of flaws, you will repeat those flaws.
Trace to learn, not to earn. Trace photography and art from anyone you want. Don't post it unless you have the artist's permission or they are dead, whichever comes first. This is strictly work for yourself, on yourself. It's not about the finished drawing.
Find an artist with a fun style and try converting stuff into their style. Don't make that your new style though and especially don't start selling it. Your style is a chimera of everyone you love, not a clone of one person.
Take blurry photos. You don't need a fancy camera or good skills or beautiful subjects. Doing studies from your own photos can spark life into your workflow.
Make challenges for yourself. Randomly generate things to combine. Try fusing characters! Don't try to make it look good, just be fun.
Doodle patterns, swirls, lines, random stuff. Try looking up art warmups and doing some of those.
- Everything Sucks
You finally see how bad you are. Or somehow you got worse. Every piece is a fight and you spend hours trying to get something right only for it to be stiff and disgusting and STILL wrong.
Why are you trying to draw good? It's enough just to draw.
Accept that your art is bad. Every artist can see flaws in their work. Your problem is that those flaws outweigh anything remotely worthwhile and hurt to look at.
So what? You're in a period of growth, not a period of production. Keep that wonky second eye. Let them have hot dog fingers.
Show everyone! Show no one! No piece of art can ever be a reflection of the artist. Not their worth, not their skill. The only thing your art says about you is "Held and moved a pen for a bit."
Make bad art. It's ok. Most of the time, the pressure to perform and get things Right is what made them wrong in the first place. Relax.
- No Motivation
The #1 killer of artists everywhere. On some level you think you should draw, on every other level you think you should stay in bed.
You are not lazy. You wouldn't have read this far in a post about art block if you were lazy. You wouldn't CALL it art block if you were lazy. Laziness is wishing you didn't have to do anything. A block is wishing you were doing something. If you think you can namecall Yourself into productivity again, you're wrong and You need to unionize so that you don't treat You like that anymore.
Consider Mental Illness. Losing interest in something that brought you joy can be a symptom of depression. I know it seems obvious, but if you're waiting for a sign that it's "bad enough," it's bad enough. Seek care if you have the means. Forgive yourself if you already know this.
Selfcare. Examine yourself for neglect. Nutrition, exercise, enrichment, social need, and sleep are all part of the art process. Eat three meals and sleep 8 hours. That's your gaymer fuel. You deserve it, I promise. Depriving yourself of your needs will make your blocks worse, not kick you into making them better.
Identify potholes. Sketchbook falling apart? Tablet cord frayed? Half your pencils missing? Chair uncomfortable? Desk hard to reach? There's a lot of things that you tell yourself to work around and get over. Just because you CAN workaround something, doesn't mean you SHOULD. A difficult work environment can cause secret dread deep inside that you don't recognize and just think you're lazy. What you think of as "no motivation" might actually be "I don't want to deal with my tablet disconnecting every time I move it wrong and I have to wiggle it for a few seconds to make it work again." These little things are like potholes in the road. Sure you CAN still drive through them, but eventually you're going to look up and realize you haven't voluntarily left the house in weeks.
Repair potholes and roadblocks. You might feel bad about buying a new pencil, headphones, tablet, car, etc because technically the old one works if you hustle. But if you're running into so many potholes you've ground to a halt, it doesn't Actually work anymore, does it? Invest, save up, request, and require working equipment and suitable conditions. This stuff isn't just cushy privilege, it's an investment in yourself and your art. You are worth the effort it takes to clear the way.
If you can't afford reliable (reliable! not perfect or luxurious) equipment, then say it. If cardboard is all you can afford, draw on cardboard. But know that you deserve canvas, and one day you might be able to make the jump. Acknowledge that sometimes, if you don't have it in you to smear burned twigs on wet cardboard, the problem isn't motivation, but opportunity.
- Haven't Drawn in So Long
A unique type of art block that self perpetuates. The thought of starting again is so stressful you can't do it. Or maybe you'll do it tomorrow. Yeah. Tomorrow for sure.
Face your fears. Are you ashamed of your lack of drawing? Are you anthropomorphizing your paper and thinking it's going to judge you, like "oh NOW you come back >:/" I internalize voices I hear and project them onto other people, concepts, locations, and inanimate objects. Your paper, computer, WIPs folder.... none of that is judging you.
Reframe your WIPs. Do you feel shame when you see "unfinished" projects? Why? Who says you MUST bring everything you start to Finish? You don't have to. A sketch is a finished art piece; it's called a sketch! If a sketch is a fully realized creation, pages that are half colored, 75% lined, or partially rendered are all fully realized creations too. Unless paid otherwise, art is done when you're done working on it.
Lower the stakes. Draw a chibi or grab some crayons. Get messy and slowly ease yourself back into the flow over the course of a couple days. It's fine.
Get a buddy! Find an art meme, do an art trade, get a study subject, or just wing it. Drawing art alongside someone can help you get past that block.
Pretend you never stopped. Don't think about the gap, how long it's been, or rustiness. As far as anyone knows, you drew the mona lisa yesterday and didn't break a sweat. Today, you drew a starfish on your hand with a gel pen. Keep up that streak, good job!
Just keep drawing. Make a goal to do one sucky drawing per day on the back of a napkin. Don't make up for missed days, just pretend they didn't happen. Who's going to judge you? The calendar? That's pieces of paper; it doesn't have an opinion. Draw a cat on it. Done. Keeping up the momentum is a great way to prevent art blocks in the future.
TLDR: Draw imperfectly and toss it. Selfcare is king. Draw often and don't judge yourself.
Art is a process, not a product.
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the swimming lessons
all rights reserved © pradaksj
↳do not repost, translate, or claim as your own.
❧ pairing⟶ jungkook/reader
❧ genre⟶ swimminginstructor!jungkook , fluff, a bit of comedy? head canon/bullet points
❧ rating⟶ e for everyone??? none??? idk how ratings work lol i just know that m = the dirty, which this story has none of
❧ word count ⟶ 5,000
❧ summary ⟶ accidental swimming lessons with jungkook were definitely worth the money
❧ a/n ⟶ i literally dreamt something similar to this in like january and told myself i'd write about it when i had the time so hear i am :)) this goes out to all my folks who can’t swim !! i'm on the same boat with you , get it? cause we can’t swim ... ok anyways ... enjoy ! (note: i have not proofread this yet so sorry for any mistakes!! ill get to it soon !! )
“hello, welcome to lucky duck swim school, how can i help you?” the receptionist, who was loudly chewing her gum, sounded more like an automated voice message than a person...
see today was your first official swimming lesson
yay!!
how fun!! ...
://
totally not embarrassing for someone your age !!!
honestly, it wasn't your fault you didn’t have any family members or friends with a big pool you could learn in growing up
and by the time you did, you were too much of in an awkward phase to be properly taught
aka your body absolutely refusing to float on its own anymore
but after several trips to the beach with friends and attending different pool parties, you were tired of being made fun of !!
no longer would you remain at 5 feet and under !!! not on your watch !
and so here you were, ready to start your journey into the world of swimming :))
“hi i um have a swimming lesson at 3 with um ... i believer her name was um—”
hmmm what was her name ??? jennie??? no, maybe it was aaliyah ??? no that wasn’t it....
the receptionist taps on her keyboard buttons, her long nails making a noise
pop, her bubblegum goes
“jungkook”
“yeah jungkook” you mindlessly say.
wait
WAIIITT
jungkook????
ummmmm
that was not the game given to you by the last receptionist
jungkook is a boy’s name !!!
you didn’t want a boy instructor !!!
not with the way you were looking
“i um—i had asked for a girl instructor—” you awkwardly mention
she rolls her eyes
um RUDE
she continues clacking with her keyboard, looking for god knows what
she sighs
“there’s no slots with female instructors available for today, nor for the rest of the month, the earliest i can probably squeeze you in by is july.” she bluntly states.
JULY???
july was when you needed to already know how to swim !!
that’s the peak of summer !
there was no point in knowing during winter or any other season besides summer for that matter
and you were not going to get made of by your friends this year
no no NO
“soo do i reschedule you or.....”
you sigh
“no ill take it” you pout, resembling a child.
“it it makes you feel any better, jungkook’s our best instructor, most popular too”
wink
oh yeah that makes you feel so much better
>:(
you were going to make a complete fool out of yourself in front of the so called “best instructor”
“well go get yourself washed up, get into the pool, and jungkook will be with you shortly” she smiles, her attitude now changing now that (what looked to be a supervisor) was passing by.
what a bi—
flip flop. flip flop. flip flop.
your sandles press onto the water on the floor of the girls locker room, a grouchy look now on your face
this wasn't fair
you made an appointment with a female instructor!!
you didn’t care if he was the best instructor or the most popular ...
squeeaaakkk , you twist the rusty shower handle
...because now you were you were going to be judged for your lack of skills
not that you had any to begin with, but still!
god, you sounded like such a karen ...
it’s just ...
a guy instructor ???
really???
you understood that this wasn’t elementary school anymore and boys certainly didn’t have cooties anymore but like ://
no no, you had to give this jungkook guy the benefit of the doubt
if he was one of the best, it was clearly because he was professional and good at what he does
putting your worries to rest, you turn off the shower
this was going to be fine
just fine
clearly your worries were not put to rest
just a temporary halt
:)
pat. pat. pat.
okay let’s get it !
making your way out to the pool, you dip your foot in
ooooo
cold
VERY cold indeed
1 ...2...
you dip your whole leg in, quickly using the momentum to place your whole body in
“5 feet and below ... you’re my bitch !!” you think to yourself
your hand still clearly gripping onto the ledge, still afraid of accidentally reaching 6ft
.... now to wait
“megan seems to have fractured her leg last weekend on a rollerskating day gone bad, so you’ll be taking up her appointments for the next month of two until she’s cleared for work”
huh ???
“but—”
“also she, well now you i guess, have a lesson to teach at..”
jungkook’s supervisor looks down at his watch
“oh i guess in 30 minutes, could’ve sworn it was at 4..” he mumbles that last part to himself
30 minutes?!
“don’t worry i’ll up your pay for the remaining time that she gets better”
he winks ;) making a clicking noise with his mouth before leaving the staff room
jungkook sighs
today was supposed to be an easy day :/
a simple cleaning of the pool along with a couple of measly hours of being the lifeguard and that would’ve been it but noooo
he just had to be the highest rated swimming instructor on the company website
he couldn’t complain though, sometimes it was fun reading the reviews past students left, even if sometimes they were a little too...
whats the word...
provocative?
it often made him wonder if he was in fact an actual good swimming instructor or if the high highly rated reviews were for other reasons....
honestly it’d be dumb of him not to acknowledge the amount of googly eyes he’d get ranging from the mother’s of his younger students to his actual adult students (female and male)
he just liked to think that didn’t come into play when they wrote their reviews
hehe
changing into his black fitted rash guard, he glanced at megan’s schedule
name : y/n
age: 23 grown
swimming level: beginner aka noob.
he chuckles to himself
well won’t this be fun
he couldn’t lie beginner adult swimmers were always a spectacle to watch
they almost reminded him of baby ducks learning how to swim
only that they’d verbally curse their frustrations here and there
quickly showering, he begins to make his way to the pool
hmm, he wonders..
what should he eat after today’s lesson?
a bacon cheese burger sounded really good
maybe even grab himself some birria tacos from that new restaurant that just opened near his apartment
hmm no he had to start spending less on takeout
sigh
looks like it’d be rame—
woah
as corny as it sounded, he could’ve sworn he felt his heart skip a beat
because whoever it was in that pool was pretty, like really pretty
hOly ?????
wowzers
you couldn’t be y/n ... could you?!?!?!
you were the only person who looked 23 years of age in the pool ...
ermmmmmm
mayday mayday
jungkook.exe has STOPPED WORKING
whoever this jungkook person was, sure was taking their time
deciding to have some fun before your lesson, you begin to gently play with the water
swish. swoosh , the water goes
soon you’d be well on your way to becoming the next michael phelps
hehe
maybe with time you’d even be able to a somersault in the water like your friend always—
“y/n?” a voice from behind says your name
ah finally
taking in a deep breath, you turn your attention to the so called “best swimming instructor”
OH.
MY .
GOD.
WHAT ??????
this man looked like he came straight out of GQ magazine !!!!
this HAD to be some mistake , there was just no way ...
your cheeks feel as if they were burning up
probably because they quite literally were
there was no way you’d be able to come here every saturday for the next month, not without fawning for this dude every single minute
“u-um”
of course you were a stuttering mess
of FuCkiNg course
“that’s me”
cue the awkward smile
:)
“be professional” jungkook tells himself
at the end of the day, you were his student
any crush on you would just have to wait until of course ... you were no longer his student
for now the only goal was : teach you how to swim
the next one down the list being : to take you out on a date !
he offers you a handshake
wow he had a strong grip
“i’m jungkook, i’ll be your swimming instructor for the next month”
he flashes you his all too famous smile
there was just no way this man was real
just nO wAy
“um..”
crap, you were still holding his hand!
idiot, idiot, idiot !
“sorry” you awkwardly laugh
ha ha ha
so funny
:/
god did you just want to hide to disappear
“it’s fine” he laughs
even his laugh was attractive :(
ugh
“so y/n, before we begin with anything, i think it’s important to review about what kind of things you already know and what you don’t”
oh right ...
for a moment you had COMPLETELY forgotten you were here for swimming lessons
how embarrassing
“oh um..”
um, um , um.
IS THAT ALL YOU KNEW HOW TO SAY????
“so like floating, holding your breath underwater, pushing, gliding, arm movement, that kind of stuff,” he explains
you knew a cool trick to make it look like you were water bending :D
of course you weren’t going to admit that here
silently you nod your head no
he gives you a reassuring smile, sensing your timidness
“that’s fine, only more for us—” he corrects himself, “for you to learn,” he laughs
hey you weren’t complaining
;)
“so i personally always like to start off with teaching my students how to float. as long as we get that down then you’ll have no problem learning the rest”
gosh his smile was so infectious
shaking your head, you reminded yourself that this was your teacher
+ you paid 300 bucks for these classes, so you couldn’t afford to be giving him the googly eyes all day
you were so cute :(
jungkook couldn’t help but find you so endearing
the color of your swimming goggles even matched your swim suit :((
so cute !
“okay so the first thing i want you to practice is going underwater for a couple of seconds, just so you get used it,” he instructs, “i’ll demonstrate”
taking in a deep breath, he goes down under
1...2...3
he’s back up
pausing for about another three seconds, he takes in another deep breath of air before going back under
1...2....3...4....5
he repeats the same thing over and over, until the max count becomes 20.
“use my finger as your reference of when to go up, but come up for air whenever you feel like you need to. it’s important to go at your own pace, so don’t feel pressured to get it the first try”
no pressure at all
okay
“you ready?”
you nod your head
“okay, deep breath in”
you sink your head underwater, mentally counting the three seconds before going back up
“good job,” he gives you a high five, and you almost feel like a schoolgirl, “now let’s try to five seconds”
woo!!! 5 seconds here you come !!
taking in a deep breath you go down under again
1....2.....3....4...5
easy peasy ... LEMON SQUEEZY
“okay now to ten”
1.....2......3......4.....5......6....7
umm
now why were these seconds going by slow all of a sudden?
sucking it up you manage to make it to 10, but not without being out of breath
“you okay?” he’s quick to ask
yup, totally fine !
you definitely didn’t see the gates of heaven for a quick moment :D
nodding your head, you enthusiastically say, “let’s go for 15″
he smiles at your enthusiasm
ahh so cute
“1....2.....3......4......5.......6......7......8......9.....10.....11.....12....13...
nope nope nope
you were not going to make it to 15
immediately you make your way back to the surface, trying to catch your breath
“hey you did amazing,” he immediately reassures you, “remember as long your going your own pace then you’re doing just fine”
<3
well doesn’t that make you feel better
you wonder if he’s this kind to all his students
besides the most obvious reason, there was no question as to why he was the “most popular” instructor
and to think you had been complaining earlier !!
and soon you’re back underwater, going at your own pace until finallyyyy you’re able to make the 20 second count
“nice !!” he genuinely celebrates with you, making you feel completely proud for yourself
“okay now that we have that done, we can move onto learning how to float facing both front and back”
ohhhhh
he was just thinking ahead
cool :o
“so what i want you do is first relax,” he laughs, gently pushing your stiff shoulders down
as if your blush couldn’t get any deeper
“now my personal belief is that all humans can naturally float, just that for others, it takes a bit of a push to get them at that state,” he begins to explain
others meaning people like um you
“the key to floating is to relax”
oh you’ve heard that before
many MANY times and each time you’ve tried to so called “relax” you just end up sinking
“the moment you fight or stress for even a tiny bit, you will sink. now i know what you’re thinking, ive heard that before”
damn
he was good
“but sadly it’s true, until you learn to relax then you’ll be able to swim”
you sigh
this was where it became hard
you were the queen of stress
you and stress went hand in hand almost like a married couple
it was just that deep water was scary !! very very scary !!
the amount of horror stories you’d seen on tiktok was enough for you to know, ocean = scary
“so here’s what i need you to do, i need you to place your arms on top of the water like as if you’re going to fly”
you follow his commands
he separates your arms, which had been too close together, giving them a small rub
“remember you need to relax y/n,” he chuckles, feeling the tension in your arms
“relax, i need to relax,” you repeat
“okay now right now when i tell you, you’re gonna take a deep breath in and look down, from there you’re gonna let you body move forward. so remember you’re not gonna jump, you’re just gonna let your body glide forward and float. almost as if you’re flying to me,” he explains
mm it was easier said than done
“you ready?”
“okay deep breath in”
you inhale a deep breath in
“look down”
you do that as well
“and let go”
slowly your body begins to rise on its own
oh my god !!!!!
you were about to float!!!!!
the day has come !!!
no more staying at 5 feet and under
you were ready to hang with the big kids :D
but as quick as the momentum came, the faster it left because soon you felt yourself sinking, the breathing exercise jungkook had made you do now coming in handy
no!!!!
you almost had it :(
it was right in your grasp, only to have it snatched away
not wanting to offend you, jungkook keeps his giggles to himself
“hey at least you almost had it,” he comforts you, “let’s just try again”
you sigh, now letting your doubts creep in
because of this, this time your body almost immediately sank this time
he frowns
you were losing confidence :/
“come on i’ll help you”
grabbing your hands, he signals for you to follow his breathing pattern
“deep breath in”
“deep breath out”
god, was his voice soothing
“i need you to relax y/n, let everything go”
a soft feeling of relaxation washes over you, similar to that feeling you’d get when you were on the verge of sleeping
“i’m gonna let you go at the count of three, and then you’re going to float, okay?”
silently you nod, knowing that speaking would only cause you to tense up again
“1...2....”
he lets go, and soon you’re floating, just like he said you would
you hold your breathe for a good while before standing back up, a huge smile on your face
“holy shit! i did it!!”
he gives you high five with both of his hands, for a second holding them before letting go
“now let’s try floating on your back”
he notices that there’s now a fire in your eyes that wasn’t there before
clearly you were now more determined to learn, excited too
preparing yourself to float once more, you realize you were missing something....
“jungkook...”
he tilts his head, confused by the faint blush on your cheeks
“do you think you can um—”
now it was his turn to blush
“o-oh yeah”
what was his problem???
you were a student asking for help
that was all ...
point blank.
he helps you get on your back, his hand placed under your back as a way to keep you up
“1....2....”
you float easily again!!
“nice!!” he smiles
summer, here you come !!
“okay so we’re gonna keep practicing that for the remaining time that we have and next week i’ll start teaching you about stroke techniques and which ones are easiest to do”
nodding your head, you practice your floating by the end of the hour having it practically mastered
the two of you get out of the pool, now drying off
“you’re a really fast learner y/n,” he compliments you
hehe
you mean, you didn’t wanna brag butttt
you were a fast learner indeed
“thank you,” you say in return, “but that’s only because you’re a great teacher”
woah
did you really say that :o
aren’t you feeling a little bold today y/n
his blush returns for the second time today
well technically you weren’t in class anymore ...
a little flirting wouldn’t hurt right?
if only he knew what to say ....
hmmmm
“well at least you won't ever drown!”
HUH???????
jungkook, you idiot !!!!!
someone needed to smack him straight in the face for that !
at least you won’t drown????
no fucking shit
well there goes his chances with you now going down the drain
but to his surprise, you laugh
“you’re right, i won’t,” you say in return, “well i’ll see you next weekend jungkook”
you flash him a smile, and he was certain he felt butterflies in his stomach
walking into the girl’s locker room, you let out a sigh of relief
wheeeeew !
faking confidence was hard !
very VERY hard
“so today you’re going to learn how to stroke so you can officially be called someone who knows how to swim, next week you’ll learn to tread water and continue perfecting your swimming, and then the final week i’ll teach you some fun extra things”
“sounds good,” you say, definitely excited to learn more.
“okay so now that you know how to float, right now when you float facing downward, you’re going to pull against the current with your arms, alternating each one. now the tricky part is that while you do that, you also have to paddle your legs a little and come up for air when you need to, and when you’re back in the water you should slowly be exhaling bubbles of air rather than holding your breath”
well that sounded hard :/
“let me give you a demonstration,” jungkook says
he’s quick to float facing downward, showing you the maneuver he wanted you to learn while coming up for air every five seconds
thought it was a little childish, he somehow still looked good doing it
he truly was blessed with the looks of a god
he comes out the water
“okay now your turn”
you nod your head, that determined look you had on your face last week now returning
following his example, you begin your attempt at paddling and stroking your arms at the same time
SPLASH! SPLASH! SPLASH!
immediately you begin to panic and water begins to splash everywhere, including on jungkook
noticing your panicked state, jungkook is quick to grab you and place you back on your feet
“hey hey, i got you,” he comforts you, not wanting you to feel discouraged
you sigh
:/
well that was embarrassing
“remember y/n you have to learn to coordinate everything, so think of it this way. your legs have to always be paddling, it’s the arm and coming up for air that switch roles. when you come up for air, it’s only your legs paddling, while when you’re head is back underwater it’s both your legs and arms paddling. once you get that pattern, the bubbling will come naturally”
you make an ohhhhh face
you could do that !
“remember what i told you last weekend y/n, you need to relax and be comfortable so you can build confidence. there’s no need to panic because i’m here,” he smiles at you
gosh this just wasn't fair >:(
cute and charming ????
this boy really had it all
not wanting to disappoint, you try one more time, failing once again
now you were frustrated :/
“damn it,” you mumble to yourself, a sadness to your voice
jungkook feels his heart swell
he didn’t like seeing you sad :(
but doggy paddling was the most basic technique he could teach you so he couldn’t really cheer you up by offering a different technique
you needed to learn to doggy paddle before you could move on to the more bigger strokes
damn it ://
“hey don’t feel bad about not getting right away,” he gives you a small smile, “i remember when i first started learning it took me forever to even learn how float, so the fact that you’re already at this point is enough of an accomplishment”
well that makes you feel little better ...
“but you were probably a kid, im ...”
old , is what you want to say
figuring what you were gonna say, he only laughs
“who said i was a kid? i was probably like 19″
whaaaaaattttt!
assuming he was your age (which he was), you do the quick maths in your head
that was like .... 4 years ago !
how the hell did he get so good in such little time???? enough to be teaching courses ???
“not knowing how to swim is nothing to be embarrassed about y/n, if anything it takes a lot of courage to even sign up for a class so don’t beat yourself up too much for not getting it right away”
he ruffles your wet hair, a small affectionate gesture
you didn’t know how it was possible but you were falling for this man and QUICKLY at that
he was just so ??$%@^!
UGHHHH
“so let’s try one more time, and if you still can’t get it then we’ll push it to next week, a free extra lesson on me”
eeeeek
though the temptation to purposely fails was very intriguing indeed, you still had to try for the sake of it
if you got it, you got it, and if you didn't well ....
an extra week with jungkook it was :D
“you ready?”
you nod your head
“1...2...”
you float and begin to paddle, this time actually getting the hang of it !!!
you hear jungkook’s muffled voice from above the surface, “there you go!!”
holy shit !
you officially knew how to swim !!!
at least enough to save your own life if push came to shove
once you were out of breath, you stand back up, a grin on both of your faces
for jungkook it was hard not to tackle you in excitement so instead he settled for a very enthusiastic high five
“you did it!” he cheers
“ahhh!” you giggle like a child
“from here on out, the rest is a piece of cake!”
yay yay yay !!!
“now let’s start working on deeper strokes, maybe we’ll even have time to throw in backstrokes!”
:////
noticing your changed expression, he awkwardly laughs while scratching his neck
“or maybe not”
this week was the final week of swimming lesson with jungkook
:((
last week’s lesson of treading water and perfecting your swim seemed to had gone by in literally the blink of an eye !
and so today was possible the last time you’d see jungkook unless you managed to grow the balls and ask him out once that clock hit 4, once you were no longer his “student"
by now you were 100% sure you liked the dude... like a lot
and he was definitely someone you wanted to get to know outside of this pool
you just weren’t sure if he liked you the same way
you mean yeah there were definitely times that had you raising an eyebrow here and there, but you always excused it as him simply being a kind hearted person by nature
because clearly his five star rating on the company’s website had to come from somewhere
not that you checked or anything....
who were you kidding
yes you did
your favorite review was the one that went..
“wow!! this dude is amazing !! came here for beginner lessons and even i found myself fawning for the dude , and i don’t even play for that side of the team !! not only were his lessons thorough, but he’s a very charming person ! 10/10 recommend!”
and so you were stuck
did he liked you or was he just treating you like he treated everyone??
“ahh y/n,” jungkook’s voice suddenly brings you back to reality
“today’s our final lesson!” he announces, not sounding too sad
in fact he sounded excited
damn :/
he playfully jumps into the pool, today being his so called “fun day”
“so since today’s your last lesson i thought i could teach you how to do a.....”
he pauses for dramatic purposes
“SOmERSAuLT!!”
immediately your eyes light up
ahhhhhHHHH!!!!
you always wanted to learn how to do a somersault in water, remembering the number of times you’d look at your friend in jealousy whenever she did one
“you ready??”
eagerly you nod your head yes
“okay so the steps to doing a summersault is first of course, you need to take a deep breath”
okayyyy
“from there you tuck your chin to your chest, next you do the moment of the somersault by swinging your chest forward and gently kicking out your legs, so basically forming a ball and then kicking out. naturally, if you have enough momentum, you’ll spin, but if you don’t just use your arms to complete it”
“think you can give me a demonstration?” you innocently ask
he winks at you, “of course i can”
taking in a deep breath, he follows his own instructions, and you watch he perfectly executes his somersault
“woahhh, that was so cool!” you say, even now finding the trick to be amazing
“now i dont expect you to get it right away, so right now that you try i’m going tog hide you thought the movement so you get the gist of it”
sounds fair enough
you weren’t trying to drown on your last day either
“okay, you ready?”
“yes”
“let’s get it!”
taking a deep breath in, you feel jungkook’s hand get placed on your back, ready to push you so you could do the somersault
“1...2...”
and slowly you feel yourself spin with the help of jungkook, a smile already forming on your face
“ahhh!” you smile big and wide, causing Jungkook to smile along with you
“you think you’re ready to try it on your own???”
“yes sir”
“okay 1....2....”
mustering up as much as force you possible could, you push yourself into ball and successfully do the somersault
YUPPPPP
WHOSE DOING IT LIKE YOU???!$%@$!
feeling an immediate rush of adrenaline, you begin to splash water all over once you come back up for air, declaring an all out water fight with jungkook
soon the two of you are chasing one another, you now using your new swimming abilities to get away
hehe
you’re a swimmer
:D
the sound of jungkook’s infectious laughter fill the air and soon you feel him grab your waist at an attempt to stop you
“gotcha” he says, and he turns you around to face him
slowly each other’s heavy breathing becomes relaxed, and it’s as if you’ve felt a shift occur in what you considered your new “friendship”
“so....” he awkwardly says, hands still wrapped around your waist
his was was RED
like cherry tomatoes red
this only makes you giggle
if you had doubts before, you DEFINITELY didn’t have em anymore
he liked you :))))
and you liked him :))))
and in ten minutes you were officially no longer his student so......
“there’s this new restaurant that opened near my place....” you say
immediately his eyes light up
“cancun eats?”
you nod your head and he gives you a toothy grin
“i was wondering if you’d want to go out some time...” you muster up the courage to ask him out
%^@%!@&!@^&@%! = jungkook’s brain
holy crap !!!
you liked him!!!
he wasn’t just delusional !!!
“hello?? jungkook??” you laugh, waving a hand in front of his face for jungkook.exe had truly stopped working this time
nodding his head yes like a child, the two of you being to lean closer to another, the clear goal in mind being each other’s lips
because honestly you’d come this far now, might as well give him a ....
“wait!” he suddenly interrupts he glances at the digital clock on the wall, remembering your final lesson officially ends at 4
because no way in hell was he going to get fired for kissing a student on the clock
3:59
.....
4:00
“okay now,” he smiles, and you only roll your eyes, happy to have taken up on those swimming lessons.
a/n : i was gonna make this longer but this was always meant to be a small little head canon so :))) pls give this a like, comment, or a reblog if you enjoyed it !! (if u can of course) and my ask box is always open for whatever !! :)) see yall next time 💞
#ficswithluv#btswritingcafe#bts fic#bts angst#bts fluff#jungkook fic#jungkook fanfic#jungkook/reader#jungkook x reader#bangtan fanfic#jungkook drabble#jungkook one shot#jeon Jungkook fanfiction#jeongguk fanfic#jeongguk#jungkook fluff#jeongguk fluff#jeon jungkook#jungkook headcanon#bts headcanon
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The Most Beautiful Moment in Life <I’M FINE>
BTS Universe Story Highlights, pt. 1 / 4
» pt. 2
Introduction
BTS Universe Story, a mobile game published by Netmarble, was released on September 24, 2020. While the majority of the app is essentially a sandbox and engine for users to create their own interactive stories, it also includes official and canon BU content. The first eight segments were introduced between the release date and December 2020, gathered under the title The Most Beautiful Moment in Life <I’M FINE>.
“I’m Fine” is half of the I’m Fine/Save Me ambigram introduced in the Love Yourself era. Notably, all of the BU content available in the game so far falls between events of the webtoon Save Me (also called HYYH0 in its logo) and The Notes 1—chronologically, that is, while bearing in mind that time resets to the morning of 11 April Year 22 whenever SeokJin fails to avert a tragedy among his six friends. I want to assure anyone who is unable to play the game that you are not missing any new, major plot beats from the overall BU narrative. Instead, the stories provide more insight into the motivations and consequences of SeokJin’s decisions in the earlier time loops, as well as more depth to individual characters and their circumstances.
The goal of this guide is to summarize each of the eight stories and highlight noteworthy details, especially if they are not yet present in other BU media. Within each story (which I often refer to as an arc, due to their character-focused nature), episodes must be played successively, but the stories themselves can be played in any order. I will present them over a series of posts in the order they are listed under the <I’M FINE> heading. The Prologue and NamJoon’s arc are free to play; the rest are paid content. Please note that due to the app’s Terms & Conditions, I will not include in-game footage here. The images in this guide are sourced from the official trailers/videos and the live action MVs as appropriate.
Content warning: contains references to death, suicide, suicidal ideation, child abuse, domestic violence, blood, homicide, depression, trauma, PTSD
This guide contains major spoilers and includes references to other BU media
Do not repost, copy, or quote without permission
Game Mechanic
Before diving into the summaries, I would like to address the primary mechanic of the game: the user’s control of character choices at designated moments in the stories. It’s a primary marketing point that the player can influence the progression of the narrative, with a frequent in-app tip also declaring, “stories’ endings can vary depending on your choices.” The latter is not strictly true—and it cannot be true due to the structure of the game. Choices are presented within most (not all) episodes, but each episode is an isolated unit: episode 2 provides the same content regardless of what you choose in episode 1. Since the consequences of your decisions are not cumulative, each episode reaches the same ending, and each decision inevitably rejoins the “main” story path (effectively reducing the script size).
So what is the point of this mechanic? While the system is not nearly as complex as what major platform titles are capable of nowadays (I suspect due in large part to the story creation portion of the game), it does foster a sense of interaction with the narrative that isn’t present in static visual media like comics or film. The episodes with choices also have incentive for replay to discover the impact of changing a character’s dialogue or action. Sometimes the differences between the outcomes are inconsequential, but other times you unearth new details, interactions, or memories that are missing in the other path.
I say this partially in reaction to all of the comments and tweets I read for the game trailers and even Smeraldo Book twitter’s choose-your-own-adventure style teasers with The Notes 2 excerpts released last summer. Many users expressed excitement, through words or memes, about finally being able to give the boys the happy ending they deserved. I don’t fault anyone for wanting that happy ending—I wish for it, too. But no matter what the rather overzealous marketing has claimed, I don’t believe that the canon ending of BU is ever meant to be in the audience’s control. But I do feel that this mechanism fits the BU narrative. It echoes the “countless loops” SeokJin has experienced in an effort to save his friends, the choices he must make at every crossroad, and the butterfly effect those actions have on all of their lives. I think it is reasonable to interpret the simple branching paths in the game as alternatives SeokJin has explored across multiple loops in his struggle to find the “right” way forward. I’d love to hear if you have theories of your own!
Prologue
The prologue is a brief episode introducing SeokJin’s repeated struggle and failure to save his friends. He wakes up yet again in his bed on 11 April Year 22, the beginning of the time loop. After reflecting on the tragedies that keep befalling the others, SeokJin realizes that he has only tried to fix the problems he can see. He wonders: “Have I tried to understand the root of my friends’ misfortunes? How much do I really know about my friends? Maybe I was never brave enough to confront their real scars and the worlds they’ve been living in. But I need to do it. Because it may be the key to saving them all.”
How to Offer a Hand
In this story, SeokJin attempts to prevent NamJoon’s arrest after he gets in a fight with a rude customer at Naeri Gas Station, his place of work. The first episode opens on the night of 11 April Year 22 with NamJoon curling his fists, glaring as crumpled bills lie untouched on the pavement. (The money looks similar to the shot from the I Need U MV.) SeokJin reaches for his shoulder, but NamJoon shrugs him off and strides away to punch the customer who deliberately dropped the bills for him to pick up. The gas station owner runs over at the customer’s furious shouts and orders NamJoon to apologize. He refuses, and police officers soon arrive and charge him with assault. No one listens to SeokJin’s protests that the customer started it first. The man sneers as NamJoon enters the police car. “Do you even have money for a settlement? Hey, you’re done for.” NamJoon is sentenced to prison again, and SeokJin hears glass shattering before the loop resets.
Rising from his bed on the morning of 11 April, SeokJin reflects on his failed efforts so far. He has hit the customer’s car, called for NamJoon in the middle of the incident, and stopped the fight himself, the latter of which caused his friends to avoid him later. The fight has even escalated; the details are unspecified, but the audience is provided an ominous shot of SeokJin speaking to a police officer alone at the scene. NamJoon is not the kind of person who would normally respond to that kind of provocation with his fists. SeokJin realizes that he cannot merely stop the fight but must discover and fix the true cause of it.
With this in mind, SeokJin heads to Naeri Gas Station during the day and tries to engage NamJoon. This is their first time meeting since they both returned to Songju, although SeokJin has experienced it in many loops already. “It’s been a while,” he greets (as he does at the end of the Blood Sweat & Tears Japanese version MV). Before SeokJin can dig deeper in their conversation, NamJoon is called away by his boss. SeokJin enters the small employee break room which serves as NamJoon’s living space when he’s not at the container, hoping to find some clues about his friend’s life. SeokJin locates something bundled in newspapers. If the player chooses to open it, he sees a strange shard of glass inside that may belong to a car or motorcycle headlight. He continues on, finding the book Cosmos by Carl Sagan and a notebook. SeokJin hesitates over the invasion of privacy but decides to read it since he needs all the information that he can gather. The journal entries detail NamJoon’s daily life since returning to Songju: his work at the gas station isn’t too bad despite the occasional rude customer; he purchased a book and hopes to get more in the future; he picked up a second job at a wedding hall to help catch up on bills; his brother NamHyeon got in trouble again, leading to more expenses; and his dad’s health has worsened, with hospital bills after an emergency surgery rising to levels that the family cannot afford. SeokJin knew that NamJoon was the de facto head of household due to his father’s illness but was unaware that it was to this degree. He feels sorry for NamJoon yet is also impressed by his maturity, for NamJoon never writes how difficult his situation is.
NamJoon arrives and asks what SeokJin is doing in the room. If the player chooses to answer “reading” instead of “just sitting there,” SeokJin privately observes that the conversation flows more easily when they talk about books. NamJoon says he must leave and declines when SeokJin offers to wait for him there. SeokJin knocks over a pile of books along with money and receipts as he stands. He thinks it is unusual that NamJoon picks up the books before the money. The books seem to be more than a hobby to NamJoon, holding special meaning. Walking to his car, SeokJin wonders if it is pride or determination not to falter that keeps NamJoon from journaling his grievances. He realizes that money is a constant source of frustration and misery to NamJoon, and that’s why he can’t stomach being insulted over the customer’s dropped money. SeokJin’s new plan is to prevent NamJoon from picking up the money. He also calls Palgok County Hospital and offers to pay the patient bill for NamJoon’s father. Anticipating that NamJoon will be angry if he finds out, SeokJin says the payer is Songho Foundation.
That night, SeokJin returns to the gas station with the excuse that he forgot to fill up earlier. The luxury car arrives with a honk, and NamJoon hurries over to assist. He shakes with anger when the customer drops the money on the ground. “Why aren’t you picking it up? You don’t want it? What’s with that look? Pretty arrogant for a part-timer, aren’t you?” goads the customer. SeokJin intervenes. Whether the player chooses to have him advise NamJoon not to pick it up or to order the customer to pick it up himself, the end result is the same. SeokJin asks the customer, “Why are you harassing a pitiful part-timer?” The customer drives away, and something about NamJoon seems off. His face is expressionless, not mad or humiliated. “SeokJin, you…” He stops. “Never mind. Thank you for your help.” The words sound difficult for him to speak.
SeokJin believes that he has saved NamJoon, although this ending feels sloppy. He continues on in the loop to rescue JungKook and later YoonGi, but uneasiness plagues him. Though he meant to help NamJoon with his actions, SeokJin wonders if he hurt him instead. On 5 May Year 22, he returns to the gas station and follows NamJoon when he leaves work early. NamJoon enters a bookstore, and SeokJin sneaks in after him to watch from afar. He overhears employees talking about NamJoon, worrying that he might dirty the pages of the book he’s perusing. NamJoon is too absorbed in the book to notice one of them calling for his attention. SeokJin recalls a memory from their school days when he found NamJoon reading alone in their classroom hideout: he asked why NamJoon read so diligently, and his friend explained that he found it comforting to empty his thoughts of everything else while focused on the book. In the present, SeokJin wonders how he forgot how much books mean to NamJoon. He sacrifices some of his food and transportation budget to afford them, but they enable him “to endure the weight of the world he’s forced to bear on his shoulders.” After realizing this, SeokJin wants to apologize for carelessly sympathizing with the reality that NamJoon has weathered alone.
The next episode is from NamJoon’s perspective, revealing his excitement over being able to purchase a book for the first time in two months. He wants to buy two but can only afford one. The employee at the register sighs and asks why he leafed through a book he wasn’t going to buy. NamJoon apologizes, and she mutters, “So dirty.” He notices his reflection, clothes worn and smelling of gasoline, and realizes she’s talking about him, not the book. He tries to shake off these depressing thoughts, but he is still not accustomed to this treatment despite experiencing it regularly at work. As NamJoon begins to exit the store, the security alarm goes off. The employees demand to check his bag despite his insistence that he didn’t steal anything. Their certainty of his theft angers him. NamJoon allows them to look through his bag, and they are suspicious of the like-new book in it which he brought from home. One begins to call the police until SeokJin appears, vouching for NamJoon by saying he saw everything. The employees accept that the alarm malfunctioned and excuse their suspicions as a mistake.
Outside, SeokJin asks NamJoon if he is all right. NamJoon is thankful but wonders how SeokJin materialized right when he needed him. “How’d you find me here?” he asks aloud. SeokJin explains that he happened to notice him while walking through the neighborhood. NamJoon wonders if it’s because they said goodbye on a weird note last time. He thanks him and turns to leave. SeokJin calls after him. “I’m sorry. I wanted to apologize. I didn’t mean to upset you that day at the gas station. It was a mistake to have called you pitiful. If my rash actions hurt you, I’m really sorry.” NamJoon accepts his apology, believing it to be sincere, and says that things would have turned out a lot worse if SeokJin had not intervened. Thunder rolls overhead, and NamJoon uses the impending rain as his excuse to depart. He declines SeokJin’s offer of a ride and runs home, feeling his friend’s eyes on him.
Before he can settle down to read at home, NamJoon receives a call from his cheerful mother. She thanks him for paying off the entire hospital bill. NamJoon is perplexed and asks what’s on the receipt, since he didn’t pay it. His mother wants to leave it be, but he insists that they investigate so they don’t get in trouble or sued. She reads that the Songho Foundation is credited as the payer. NamJoon calls the hospital, introducing himself as the guardian for Kim YoungMin, but they can’t transfer him to the administrative department at this time. Disappointed, he looks up the foundation’s website, unable to recall why it sounds familiar. He wonders why a scholarship foundation in the city would get involved with him. Spotting photos of a recent launch ceremony on the site, he recognizes a few people: Songju High School’s principal, the familiar-looking face of the foundation’s chairman, and SeokJin. First, NamJoon forces a laugh, and then it’s difficult for him to breathe. He thinks that SeokJin really had pitied him at that moment. The only thing keeping NamJoon going is the idea of getting through life on his own strength. Why does he have to live like this?
The last episode opens on 5 May back in SeokJin’s perspective. He is confident now that he has saved NamJoon, although it occurs to him that a better alternative may have been to simply pick up the money himself instead of stepping forward. (This decision is enacted in a later loop and depicted in the Euphoria MV.) While reflecting on what comes next to save his other friends, he receives a text from NamJoon. “What’s your account number? I’ll pay you back for the hospital bills. I don’t need your help. I’ll handle my concerns on my own.” Heart sinking, SeokJin wonders how he found out. With a sense of foreboding, he tries calling NamJoon, but no one answers. SeokJin texts him back, pretending that he doesn’t understand, and tells NamJoon to call him. SeokJin’s second attempt connects while he’s gathering his car keys to visit the container. “That’s enough. Just send the account number over text,” NamJoon instructs. SeokJin coaxes him to talk for a moment, and NamJoon asks flatly, “Are you going to apologize again?” SeokJin attempts to salvage the situation, but his friend turns cold when he insists that NamJoon is misunderstanding and that he just wanted to help. “So, why? Why are you helping me?! Yeah, you’re always a good person. You’ve done nothing wrong and I’m the one misunderstanding.” SeokJin apologizes again. NamJoon refuses his request to meet in person. “No, I thought maybe there was a reason for everything you did… But I guess I misconstrued it. I’ll pay you back, so I’d prefer if you stopped contacting me.” Long after the call ends, SeokJin stands holding his phone, feeling that the glass is going to break at any moment. He wants to believe that it’s not over, but hope is slipping through his fingertips.
The episode finishes in NamJoon’s perspective. On 8 May and 9 May, he accepts part-time delivery work and reflects on his three jobs. Whenever he thinks he’s at his breaking point, he focuses on his new goal of returning SeokJin’s money. On 10 May, NamJoon wakes up to his buzzing phone and is called in to work. On a scooter, he passes by a bus stop and notices graffiti. (This is the same bus stop, with matching graffiti, that appears in the Highlight Reel.) Mesmerized, he wonders if it’s TaeHyung’s. As soon as NamJoon looks up, the scooter’s brake fails, and he crashes. The shattered glass on the cold pavement reminds him of the headlight shard and the kid who looked like TaeHyung. (So the piece of glass SeokJin saw in April was really a memento NamJoon retrieved from the scene of the crash in the mountain town, where the delivery boy whom he privately called TaeHyung died. This event is described in NamJoon’s 17 December Year 21 entry in The Notes 1.) NamJoon’s vision grows blurry, and the distant sound of an ambulance doesn’t come any closer.
The arc concludes there, but it obviously marks another reset for SeokJin. It is interesting to note that in this failed loop, NamJoon suffers the same fate that he narrowly avoided in the snowy mountain town before returning to Songju.
Please stay tuned for the next Highlights post featuring JungKook and YoonGi!
#armiesnet#networkbangtan#bangtanarmynet#armysource#dailybangtan#bts universe#hyyh#bangtan universe#bts universe story#bts universe story highlights#seokjin#namjoon#namjin#bts theories
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Two Faced | Chapter Eight
↳ levi ackerman, the very person who was about to kindly behead you by a surprising turn of events manages to become your loving husband? you would be elated if this was true love, but it’s all thanks to a mysterious magic spell that your life is spared, for now at least.
pairing :: duke!levi x duchess!reader
genre :: royal au ??? (at this point idek) angst, fluff, slice of life etc ??
word count :: 4.8k
author note :: i’ve been very ill so yeah, not the best writing but i really can’t go that long without wanting to write so i ended up writing an update, i hope you enjoy it, it’s longer than usual :D sorry for any mistakes it hasn’t been proof read at all :-(
→ next part coming soon!!
“Hey, newbie you haven't spoke about your home town much have ya?"
You lift your head, verifying Reiner's suspicions with a nod. You recall he's the same distasteful blonde brute who made those snide remarks about Hange. He must be at least a towering six foot if his shadow is able to cover the majority of the Sun's rays from hitting you.
You would maybe bother to give him and his inquiry more attention than you currently are if he hadn't been so unnecessarily impolite during the morning speeches.
Calves yelping in stinging pain from the first tastes of the full time training regime you simply cannot find the effort to strain your mind with small talk.
Temples throbbing it feels as if a sword has been forced through the side of your head, but that's not it at all. Reiner has thrown a small rock at you and you hear him chuckle under his breath.
Twisting your position so you face him you glare in displeasure.
Although you don't particularly enjoy the idea of joining Levi's unit and having to become a concealed agent of sorts you can't really take your pickings at how it is you wish to survive. You're going to have to deal with it and you've come to the stage of acceptance now.
However, you are not willing to respect the attitude some of these cadets are giving you, it's clear there's already a strong hierarchy in place.
Reiner just so happens to be one of the big guns from what you've been able to observe. He possess strong upper body strength and his hand to hand combat isn't a laughing matter either. That means he's higher up in the ladder of cadets, that's for sure. To top it all off you know you're not as powerful as other members in the team in terms of skill and he's probably silently making a mockery of you for it.
Pursing your lips you decide to play this game cautiously, asking him what it is he needs from you isn't the best option. You're aware he's after something, it's written all over his face. You practically know every deceptive look in the book off by heart. You suppose it's the only perk you got out of living in a noble household for most of your life.
"Why do you care?" You bluntly question him.
"Ohh, you're feisty. Might not want to butt heads with Annie."
"Not sure who that is but I don't plan on it."
Turning away from him it look like you're distracting yourself by collecting pieces of firewood. Trailing around you act as uncaring as possible to annoy him. You need to gauge this man's reaction somehow.
Your plan seems to be working in your favour because you're able to see his footing shift from his natural stance, it looks as if he's about to risk charging at you due to your vulnerable position but you rotate again offering him a knowing smile.
You don't tell him you're conscious of his suspicious nature but if he's quick witted enough he'll be able to figure out you aren't a threat and apparently don't have a clue what it is he's up to. The only reason he'd even consider attacking you would be if he saw you as an issue. For now your act should at least keep him at bay.
"Fine. I'll tell you about my hometown, I'm just..." You pause to make yourself look believable and proceed to look up at him through your lashes, you dart your gaze away and awkwardly scratch the back of your neck exuding coyness.
"I'm incredibly homesick. I miss mother. I always made supper for her, now I can only pray she's not eating burnt chicken." Your act has to be working because his eyes soften and he takes half of the firewood in your arms offering to help you carry it.
"My mum's a great cook, can't relate squirt."
"Who you calling squirt?" You playfully snap back.
"I call everybody that, even Captain Levi... Well, when he isn't around to hear it."
You bite the inside of your cheek at the mention of the Levi's name.
“So you and the Captain? What’s that all about?” His question makes no sense at all, one minute he wants to prod and poke in your personal home life yet the next minute he's asking questions about Levi. The doubts you have surrounding him only thicken.
You take a moment to consider his question,
“Whatever do you mean?” Clueless, you're delivery is excellent. Acting naive is easy enough, everyone within the corps has already decided that's what your automatic disposition is.
Reiner gives you a skeptical look then smiles faintly, “Glaring daggers at Jean after he got handsy with you?”
You cover your mouth with your free hand and laugh so hard the firewood nearly flies out of your grasp.
“Me and Jean are friends, and Levi? He just wanted to find a reason to get mad at us probably.” You hope the explanation suffices because you truly have no idea why Levi had done what he did.
Reiner hums in approval at your answer but he then grins.
“You on first name basis with the Captain?”
Fuck, you called him Levi.
Play it cool.
“Huh? When have I ever said his first name?” Clueless. Your delivery is still perfect.
“Just now.” He fires back, Reiner doesn't seem to be letting up but he doesn't know how smooth of a liar you are.
Living with your father for all those years conditioned you in ways you hadn't even noticed until quite recently.
“Did I? Pardon, I didn’t mean for it to slip out. Sometimes I silently curse him out in my head and forget to add his title.”
Your acting is impeccable, Reiner has no reason to doubt you. As you expect he doesn't instead he shifts the conversation to his hometown, just like you he doesn't explicitly mention a name. Reiner is sharp but he hasn't noticed the way you've left a name out just like him. He's terrible at catching out his own kind.
You decide at that moment that Reiner Braun is a liar. The accusation is more of a hunch meaning more investigation is required.
You won't inform any of the higher ups about it just yet.
The walk back to base is filled with excruciatingly troublesome small talk and you make a mental note to take Mikasa along with you next time it's your turn retrieve the firewood.
You can't afford any more close encounters with Braun or any of his possible accomplices.
Sniggers batter your ears as soon as you step foot onto the grounds, you have a sixth sense when it comes to spiteful bad-mouthing and after the abysmal day you've had you anticipate there will be unpleasant commentary.
"Seen the way Y/N ruined the assault course today?"
"We're the finalized cadets across all the regions of Paradis. That means we have to rely on that embarrassment to fight titans."
"Good Lord, someone have mercy on our souls."
Fellow cadets press on in their criticism thinking you aren't within earshot. That, or they purposefully aim for you to pay attention to the disapproval they have of your presence.
But, you do understand where they're coming from. You make another mental note - practice a bit more later today.
The gossiping isn't anything you're unfamiliar with, your father's palace never offered kindness to you or your existence. In fact it's rather comforting being talked badly about behind your back.
That statement sounds absurd but you can't explain it. Maybe it's due to Levi typically hurling his unnecessary remarks right at you without warning. Then again he does provide everyone with that treatment, even Commander Erwin.
As you hurry away increasing the distance between you and your loud mouthed team members you spot Levi from the corner of your eye. He's in conversation with Hange but you notice how his jaw is clenched in frustration, you feel a pinch over your skin when he spares you a fleeting look. Eyes acquainting yours. Paying no attention to him you walk away as fast as you can.
The cadets only blow up in volume now, they definitely want you to hear what they have to say.
"Maybe we should ask the higher ups to throw her ou-"
"Questioning authority? Pesky mutineers aren't you?" Levi's booming voice shakes anyone within a five metre vicinity, he comes out of nowhere and seems nothing short of furious.
"You're all," He continues, voice rising, "Incredibly spineless aren't you?"
One of the cadets embellishes their face with a scowl, it doesn't go unnoticed by Levi but he astonishingly doesn't lash out, physically at least. His deathly glare is more than enough to finish the job.
Stupidly you suffer feeling your heart palpitate in your chest watching him talk to the group of three. Stupidly, you're getting your hopes up again.
He scoffs coldly, "If you're all talk why not offer to duel her?"
It doesn't take long for your heart to stop throbbing with its previous intensity. You know it was too good to be true. Levi suddenly defending you that is.
The gesture isn't done to protect or shield you. No, you're sure this man loathes you and is intending to persist on making your life as bleak and dreary as possible.
"Up to a battle Y/N?" The unnamed blonde cadet's scoffs in derision and you find yourself wanting to punch her square in the jaw.
Irritation sears through you but you meekly shake your head mumbling a weak "No thanks.", you're much too afraid to duel anyone just yet and you don't remember her from the training sessions. She must have been in a corner keeping to herself.
With all that being said and done you pathetically withdraw, and just like the past few days you sense Levi's piercing gaze erupting into your soul.
The blistering Sun hits every nook and cranny of the training ground. Waking up early already has you wanting to pass out and the heat isn't any help.
The crowd of cadets mumble in fatigue but observant Mikasa jabs you in the shoulder pointing out how far away Jean has stood from you.
You feel guilty that Jean had to suffer through the humiliation tossed at him yesterday but you are grateful to not deal with his constant questioning and talkative self this early in the morning.
All the way at the other side of the throng of soldiers he stands with Bert, who might you add is a mammoth of a man.
Through some digging (more like asking Mikasa) you've discovered he's close with Reiner and the blonde cadet from yesterday's confrontation, turns out she's the Annie that Reiner warned you off.
"ATTENTION!" Hange sing songs at the front of the training ground. They're jumping around along with Squad Leader Mike checking if everyone's in the correct uniform - Apparently the year prior a cadet showed up wearing a thick cardigan and fainted from heat stroke...
“Today’s exercise is a time to redeem yourself!” Hange’s eyes dart towards you and you smile at one another.
“A FIGHT TO THE DEATH!”
Everyone murmurs looking at each other in pure confusion.
“A fight up against another person. Whoever wins their individual fights will receive extra special privileges." The explanation seems simple enough and you’re confident that if you’re put up against the right people you can make it out safe.
The promise of a reward is also enticing.
The 104th Training Corps are thrilled, there’s nothing too hazardous about the task and it’s nothing difficult to ask for. Even you’re looking forward to it. The chance to rescue your reputation has you pumped up with adrenaline.
“My, my my. Don’t excite yourselves just yet little hens, there’s a pretty little catch.” Hange's voice is laced in mischief. This can't be any good.
Everyone stops breathing in unison and it’s pin drop silent.
“You must cause harm to your opponent in some way. Whether it be making them faint, breaking an arm, breaking a leg. There are no rules when it comes to playing dirty!”
With a playful shrug of their shoulder Hange hops off the podium.
Squad Leader Mike pulls out the list of competitors. He’s decided the line-up on his own and begins the announcement with Bertholdt.
“BERTHOLDT HOOVER..."
Bert turns to look back at Reiner hesitantly and for such a giant it’s adorable how worried he is when everyone else is perturbed thinking about the poor individual who has to go up against him.
"AGAINST Y/N L/N!"
The crowd falls silent and your mouth is wide, this is unjust there’s no way this is allowed.
“Hey, don’t you think that’s kinda unfair?” Krista speaks out for you even though Ymir is by her side trying to talk her out of getting involved.
“She stands no chance against him.” Reiner is supporting your cause too.
Mikasa takes a step forward. “I agree, it’s not right, may I take her place instead?”
“No, no! It’s alright, I’ll go for it.”
Honestly you don’t want the corps to see you as a coward. Bravery and courage is what brought everyone here. Your story is different. You’re here to selfishly save your own life, you aren’t anywhere near as valiant as the rest of them. The very least you can do is partake in activities correctly.
Stepping up to the podium you stand by Bertholdt he gives you a pitiful look whilst he mutters an apology.
Mike continues announcing the names. A few include Jean against Mikasa (Jean may as well forfeit), Marco against Annie and Connie against Reiner - that pairing eases you. At least you aren't in this alone. You and Connie stand no chance against those beasts.
Everyone lines up in their separate areas and again Bertholdt is profusely apologizing asking if you want to fake faint or anything of the sort. You shake your head and promise to give it all you've got.
And then the games begin at the sound of the bell, and damn that Bertholdt because he isn't keeping to his end of the bargain. He lunges forward viciously aiming to crush your entire body but you swiftly dodge, he tries the same approach but when you duck out of the way again he stops knowing he needs to rethinks his strategy.
"Just give it up I'll win either way."
Well, the Mister nice guy act was definitely a believable performance. He was so convincing you even contemplated feigning unconsciousness when he proposed the idea to you.
Bertholdt is much slower than you giving you more time to deliberate your incoming moves. If you can get him to edge close enough to a nearby tree and deceive him into colliding with the oak trunk you should win - only on the condition that he passes out.
The scheme is far-fetched but it's your only hope.
Dashing from various corners he flies after you, each time unable to catch up to you.
That is until you stumble and lurch to the ground. The wind is knocked out of your lungs and you panic when a large hand clutches at your ankle. Your solution? Booting him right in the teeth.
However with an earth-shattering amount of force Hoover's hold on your ankle doesn't weaken. Instead he tightens his hold like a vice. You feel it bruise and the violet discoloration that'll be present in a few hours makes you wince.
Entire body going limp on command, you stop yourself from breathing - another talent you picked up back at the palace to avoid extra beatings.
When you no longer thrash around Bertholdt stalks in to check in on you and as expected he’s now towering over you, blood overflowing in terror.
"SQUAD LEADER HANGE, CAPTAIN LEVI SHE'S NOT MOVING!" He's roaring for their help frantic and anxious. If he's caused any permanent damage he's as good as dead meat.
"Oh my Lord. I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry."
Bertholdt's voice is fractured in unadulterated horror and judging by the direction you hear it at he has to be facing away from you.
Unbolting your eyes you learn your assumption is correct and despite hurried footsteps being within audible range you take your chance by the reigns.
Leaping to your feet and with no forewarning you swing your leg to the back of his neck. Stunned by the surprise attack he falls to his knees and you situate yourself in front of the oak tree you've been eyeing from the time the exercise began.
"You cunning bitch." Staggering back up he makes a swift rebound. At this point all mercy has left him and his one true aim is to completely pulverize you.
Everything is falling into place. All you need to do is wait for the right moment and finally you come across it when he suddenly pounces for you. Darting to the left you leave the space open for your prey.
Poor Bertholdt falls right into the palm of your hands like a rag doll. His momentum can't be controlled and he smashes headfirst into the trunk with a loud crunch sounding out. Bark splits and scrapes off the tree upon impact.
His head has to throb and you don't want to imagine how painful it is to feel the rivulets of soreness.
He doesn't get up and only groans, you feel half bad but after the tricks and antics he pulled you come to the conclusion that it's all deserved.
"Well, Y/N, you've proven yourself to be quite quick witted." Hange's praise is strange to hear but you beam proud that you've proven your worth.
"Oi, don't get ahead of yourself." Levi orders. "It could have been pure luck."
In spite of Levi's pessimism you bask in the glory of your win.
A week into joining Levi's unit you're becoming more accustomed to the new environment, in fact the gossiping and horrible rumours stop completely after your win and interactions with your fellow comrades feel easier and lighter.
You think the taunts will have only got more relentless after the duel fiasco but you suppose Annie chose to be considerate and take pity on you.
"Your progress has been remarkable so far." You jump when you hear Jean's deep voice appear right next to you.
Looking around to see if any other cadets are around you finally release a breath you didn't even know you were holding in.
"Ah. Thank you." You murmur quietly.
"I know it's been a week since I was scolded by the Captain but this won't count as flirting will it?"
Impeding the one sided conversation you're reflecting, you're not sure what exactly about. Probably whether or not you should maintain the discussion - if it can even be referred to as such.
Forget it. You know what they say, you only live once.
Flicking his forehead you roll your eyes, "We were never flirting he's just an over dramatic, bitter hag. I put my money on the fact he's never felt the touch of a woman before."
Jean's eyes widen in disbelief, you half expect he'll split open in tremendous laughter but he looks terrified. Then you become conscious of the fact he's not even staring at you, his eyes are engrossed by whatever is behind you.
Unfortunately for you your body tells you all you need to know. His cologne floods into your nostrils, you can't even reassure yourself and pretend it's anyone else, you know he's the only one who smells that strongly of fresh linen.
Being unable to see him doesn't stop you from imagining his dark lifeless eyes accompanying themselves with what is before them.
It doesn't even take Jean a minute to abandon you, he breaks out into an awkward smile, hurriedly pats your shoulder before dashing away, dispersing all the way to the other end of the hallway in a matter of seconds and turning the corner away from you.
Heart rate soaring you hesitantly spin on your heel. Levi's stood there, looking beyond unimpressed.
You intend to breeze past him, cool and collected. You take a step forward but God has never been one to bless you with luck, stumbling and tripping over thin air lands you flying.
Ready for impact you brace yourself but it never comes, instead solid hands are firmly placed at the small of your back steadying your position and your palms have unceremoniously landed atop his torso.
"Play along." Levi's voice is low and rumbling, and you can't look him in the eyes. Not out of fear or dread, more so exhaustion but you muster the energy to look to your left. There Erwin and Hange stand giggling to themselves like children. As quick as you spot them they vanish in the same fashion. It's as if they were never there.
You're worn out and fatigued wanting nothing more than a good night's rest. If there's one thing you haven't grown used to it's the lack of sleep.
"Let go." Moving to shift his hands away from your waist you halt your movements when he without warning lets go of you, not even giving you the opportunity to renovate your balance.
Flying to the ground and landing with a thud you rub your backside at the blow.
Mirthlessly chuckling the lack of amusement is clear in the way he composes himself.
Making a dash for it sounds tempting but you may as well let him have his way. There's no action you can take to avoid him reprimanding you. It's your fault for having the gall to make that crude and foul-mouthed comment in the first place.
You gulp comprehending the situation is even worse now since you really only said it for the sole reason of Kirstein's amusement.
"Y/N, I'd like to have a word with you."
Hesitantly you look up at Levi, he has an indecipherable expression on his face, it's been a while since you've last been left in his company alone.
The two of you are stood in his office, his desk is flooded with papers, they're haphazardly scattered all over the place and spikes of worry weirdly make them self present in your belly. This isn't right. He'd never leave his work space in this state.
"Are you okay?" You ask it because you’re sure he isn't.
His shoulders and spine stiffen. "Cut the crap and keep the formalities to yourself." He chides, most definitely defensive in his stance.
Without asking him you shuffle to his desk stacking the papers into organised piles, most of the documents are related to an up and coming expedition and it's all beginning to add up. Even humanities strongest soldier has moments where he cracks.
Then you notice your name on the formation plan but before you're able to make anything out of it Levi snatches it off his desk and away from you stuffing it into his pocket.
Without another sound he observes you cleaning the rest of the mess away but doesn't ask for you to stop. There's no reason for him to.
If you do this maybe he'll go easier on you, yeah that's what your motivation is. That's not exactly the truth, really you're just concerned about whatever has him worked up.
Placing the last document in its rightful place you want to give your mind a moment to recollect itself but Levi doesn't think the same.
He places his arms on either side of the desk, trapping you with no way out. Oddly, there's nothing threatening about him looking down at you this time, the greys and blues of his iris' captivate you.
"Do you enjoy making a mockery of your husband?" The question is whispered. It's unanticipated and the title of husband is uncharacteristic coming out of his mouth.
"It was just a joke." You mumble your answer under your breath.
"Would you have spouted that shit in front of the rest of the unit?"
Mildly shaking your head he then sighs. He’s not angry, he genuinely seems let down.
"Do you prefer him over me?” You swear you hear the faintest hint of self-doubt.
His questions are getting more out of the ordinary by the second and you’re waiting for him to crack a malevolent grin before he ridicules you like he always does.
“Of course I don’t prefer him over you.”
“Prove it.”
Tilting your head up towards him you have no idea what he wants for you to do or say, why does this suddenly even matter to him?
And then you imagine it happen, him digging his hands into your shoulders. Your weight along with his shifting up against the desk making it creak. Your mind details how he would kiss you agitatedly and you flush thinking about how you would feverishly return the favour.
It seems like your imagination predicts the future. He grips your jaw with his hand, his touch isn’t firm and for once it’s quite soft. Relishing in the new experience as he leans in you secure your eyes shut in expectation.
Stroking your cheek with his thumb the warm sensation that courses through your body is rather pleasant. His hands come out to run against your body, pinching the sides of your waist. The motion makes your heart stall for a second. Involuntarily, you find yourself leaning into him.
“This seem like a man who hasn’t felt the touch of a woman before?”
And just like that he leaves you hanging. You flutter your eyes open and there he is. He’s back, the same cynical man, smirk etched onto his features, his body still parallel to yours.
You find yourself enraged at how he's just lead and dragged you on, you should have stuck with your gut feeling and not given into temptation but you know what they say, curiosity killed the cat. It's very obvious who the cat is in this situation.
Brows furrowing you can’t face him ever again after the scalding embarrassment inhabits your abdomen.
"Going to cry, Cadet?" He's pushing all your buttons, eagerly choosing to provoke you.
The frustration you’ve been feeling fills you to the brim and you clamp down on your bottom lip. If you must turn to inflicting harm onto yourself just to muffle the sound of your whimpers you will.
“Did you need to do that?” You choke out your response feeling helpless, still not looking at him.
“Simply gave you a taste of your own medicine.”
Silence.
"Sometimes I wish you killed me back then."
Silver eyes become dark and he visibly flinches at your confession.
Still boxed in-between his arms you attempt to push past but he continues to obstruct the exit. He's not done yet.
"I gave you another chance at life." His blunt one-sided view is about to drive you crazy.
"Within my first day at this unit I had to avoid being attacked by another cadet in the forest if you call that a life I do-"
“Who?”
“Not important."
“If you know what's good for you, you'll spit it out."
For the sole purpose of irking him you heavily shake your head to emphasise your refusal to give in and name the culprit. It's not like you want Reiner to fall into trouble because of you. He hasn't shown any suspicious or out of the ordinary behaviour since then and you worry what Levi is capable of doing when given a reason to hurt someone.
Glancing at him dismissively you try to make your point again. "They haven't done anything since. Therefore, it's of no importance."
Conflicted emotions scurry over his face as he looks at you.
"It's of importance if my wif-" He growls and stops midway. His hands grip onto the desk even harder, knuckles turning white.
Was he about to say, wife?
Levi immediately realizes what he's nearly just said sounds exceedingly questionable. A look of uncertainty flashes over his face and then it seems he loses all regard for self-control. His willpower isn't enough to get him through this situation and he only amplifies.
Encroaching further into the very little space amongst the both of you his tone is icy. "Tell me." He's glowering and for Reiner's wellbeing you decide you should just come out with it now. He'll be in an even more difficult spot if you don't.
"Reiner, it was Reiner." You gasp out the answer, shallow breath ragged. Head turning away to the side you're not particularly sure why you're so shaky and why you feel a tremor flood past you inundating your movement. It may all be a combination of how close he's standing to you and how intoxicatingly strong his aura is.
Or, perhaps it's due to how he nearly referred to you as his wife during his primal outburst of anger.
He turns away. Automatically creating yet another blockade between the two of you.
"You're dismissed."
#levi#levi ackerman#aot#snk#attack on titan levi#attack on titan#levi x y/n#levi x reader#aot fanfiction#aot headcanons#duke levi#levi smut#levi angst#levi fluff#levi fanfiction#leviiattacks
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I Hate Me Now
Word Count: 6k
Genre: Angst, smut
Summary: You and Wonpil used to be lovers, soulmates even, before your priorities in life got in the way. You wanted to do anything to help your family, no matter how morally ambiguous it is, while Wonpil thought that doing the right thing was of the utmost importance, no exceptions.
Now, facing off in court years later, all the old wounds gets torn open again and things finally come to a head.
A/N: *long fart noise* this fic had the potential to be something good but I fucked it up and I’m beyond even caring.
Warnings: inconsistent writing if you’ve ever seen one, kinda femdom, unhealthy as per usual, sad little story.
The neutral, slightly intimidating mask you put on everyday was the one most people were familiar with by now. You rarely showed your real emotions anymore, not since you had lost him. His departure brought on a profound change in your life. There had already been a rift growing between who you wanted to be and who you had to be in order to survive, but when he left he took any remaining idealism left in you with him. It’s funny that the reason he left you was because he couldn’t handle your diverging moral standings, yet it was precisely his departure that cemented the turn you had taken.
Now, with him standing opposite you in the courtroom, fighting for the opposing team, you feel your mask slipping. It was hard seeing him like this. Even though it’s been years already, not having him break into that breathtaking smile of his that was like an ingrained reflex as soon as his eyes would meet yours was disquieting. Now he just frowns and looks away; his big, beautiful eyes that used to be filled to the brim with a sort of dreamy goodness were now empty and tired.
Needless to say, you weren’t on your best game. You could hardly concentrate at all during the trial, and you can bet your ass that your boss knew about your abysmal performance before it even ended. As soon as you were out of the courtroom, he was calling to give you crap about it and condescendingly remarking that if you couldn’t handle such a big case then you should’ve left it to someone who actually knew what he was doing, emphasis on the ‘He’. You assured him that everything was under control and that this wouldn’t happen again. You were just caught off guard, not that you dared tell him that last part. This was a huge case and it could either make or break your career. You couldn’t afford to get distracted by the man you had once thought to be the love of your life, and might still do…
You had to do this for your family. But it seems the man in question intends to put your resolve to the test.
You don’t know how he found you. Perhaps he had followed you out of the courthouse. Did he hear you talking on the phone to your boss? You sure hope not, not when his mere presence was forcing you to face the fact that you never got over him after all, and you didn’t need him to see that. You had hoped that the time and distance would harden your heart and heal the wounds he had inflicted upon it but all it took was one look in his eyes for them to get ripped wide open again.
If nothing else, you wanted to keep your pride. He doesn’t get to break your heart and see you still broken up about it all these years later. So you put on your mask again and smirk at him, “Good work today, Pili.”
His frown deepens at the term of endearment you used to call him when you were together. You suppose you aren’t allowed to use it anymore, which is precisely why you do. “Too bad it won’t do you any good. You always did have a soft spot for the hopeless cases.”
Wonpil puffs his chest out, subconsciously trying to look bigger under your mocking gaze. “Our case isn’t hopeless.”
“Yeah sure, whatever you say, Pili.” You roll your eyes. You should end it there, tell him you have no time for him and leave to go work harder on your case to take him and the people he represents down. But you haven’t made a levelheaded decision since the moment he came back into your life and you just can’t resist adding, “You shouldn’t be wasting your skill on these people. They’re never gonna win. Join my company. I’m sure I can find you a place.”
Wonpil’s face contorts in disgust, “You think I would ever be a part of a company like yours? You kill people!”
“My company doesn’t kill people.” You reply half-heartedly, not really up to defending your employers out of the courtroom.
“Maybe not directly but the chemicals they pollute the environment with has led to the illness and death of countless people. That’s on your hands.”
You’re not surprised that he insists on making you complicit in the actions of the company you’re representing. Wonpil always did have an absolute sense of justice, from the CEO to the janitor, everyone was equally responsible in his eyes.
“Be careful what you accuse people of, Pili. This could get you in real trouble once my company wins the lawsuit. And they will win.” You smile sadly, “They always win.”
You walk closer to him and reach out for his hand tentatively. You’re surprised when he lets you, and you take a moment to just hold it, feeling the familiar, yet almost-forgotten, weight of it in your own hands. When you lace your fingers together, they fit as perfectly as they did years ago, the heat of him permeating through yours like blood through a corpse revived.
You know you couldn’t let yourself get carried away for long. You needed to say what you had to say and then withdraw back into yourself when he inevitably rejects you. Rubbing your thumb over the web of skin between his thumb and index, you take a few moments to steady your breath as you willfully shed years worth of mental defenses to allow him to gaze onto the real you, naked from any pretenses and completely vulnerable against the bottomless darkness you see in his own eyes.
“I’ve missed you so much, you can’t even know. I… I still want you.” You weren’t sure if it was just your voice that was trembling or your entire body—you were holding too tightly onto his hand to be able to tell. “It’s not too late for us. We can still be together. What you’re doing right now is admirable, fighting for those who can’t fight for themselves. You’ve got the most beautiful soul I’ve ever seen… but it’s a losing battle. There is no hope for them, but there is for us. We can have a good life together.”
His lips press together into a thin line and he yanks his hand back, almost throwing you forward when you don’t react fast enough to untangle your fingers as he steps away from you, looking disgusted at the mere thought of what you’re suggesting. “If you really think that I’d not only abandon these people but actually work against them then you don’t know me at all.”
“Oh, I know you.” You look down at your now empty hands, muttering tiredly, “I just hoped that you might’ve changed.”
“And I wish you didn’t. I don’t even know who you are anymore. You’re nothing like the girl I once fell in love with. You’re a monster.”
You let out a bark of laughter to hide the stabbing pain his words delivered right into the center of your chest, cutting up your tattered heart all over again. “And did you follow me all this way just to say that? Aw, Pili, you shouldn’t have.”
He glares at you, utter contempt displayed on his face.
“I hate you.” He curses out before he leaves, not sparing you a second glance, and for that you were thankful. You could barely stomach the fact that the broken woman who was openly sobbing in the middle of the street in broad daylight was you—you didn’t need him to see that.
___________________________
Just like you hadn’t expected to ever face off with him in a courtroom, you also never expected him to show up at your place only days after your less-than-sweet reunion.
“What are you doing here?” You stand with your arms folded over your chest, feeling resentful that he’s forcing you to deal with the heartache he brought with him into your own residence. “How did you even know where my apartment is?”
“You’ve messed with my damn head.” He accuses, looking deeply agitated as he paces back and forth in your living room.
The audacity of this man! He sought you out first, then he rejected you, and now he barges into your home and claims you are messing with him?
You plant your body in his path to stop his pacing, and ask, putting emphasis on each word, “Why. are. you. here?”
He stares at you for a second, exasperated and contemplating what to say, but each time a sentence starts forming, he bites it back abruptly. Huffing, he runs his hand through his hair haphazardly and tries to get past you to start pacing again.
But you jump into action, your hands shooting out to grab him and hold him in place. You won’t let him play games with you. You won’t be able to handle it.
In the process of holding on to him to try to keep him in place, you had gotten much closer to him in proximity. With your arms almost enveloping him, your heart starts beating erratically. This was the closest you’d been to him in years, and by the looks of it, Wonpil wasn’t completely unfazed by it either.
“What do you want from me, Wonpil?” You ask, suddenly feeling weary as if all the fight has seeped out of your body.
His eyes flit down to your lips as you talk, and they linger there even after you’re done, giving you your answer. Wonpil was never particularly good at hiding his feelings, something he would readily admit to if asked, and you take advantage of it.
You raise your hand to his face carefully as if he’s a frightened animal you don’t want to scare off. When he feels your hand on his cheek, he finally looks you in the eyes again, and you feel a twinge of pity at the helplessness you see in his gaze.
Taking in a deep breath, you ask slowly, “Do you want to kiss me, Wonpil?”
You knew you shouldn’t be doing this; it will only open up your wounds further, but you’ve never gotten to say goodbye to him, and you knew that if you miss this-- probably last-- chance to be with him, you will live to regret it even more.
You’re so lost in your own head that you miss the subtle nod Wonpil gives you and, antsy by your lack of response, he makes the first move, pressing his lips to your own.
It’s an awkward kiss, tight-lipped and uncoordinated as Wonpil is unsure of what he is allowed to do, but feeling the urgency to touch you anyway. His hands are all over you, but not in a good way. They would barely touch a part of you before they moved on to the next, leaving you feeling unsatisfied.
Deciding to take the reins—which was par for the course back during your relationship anyway—you grab his hands and hold them behind his back, making him whine when you break the kiss. “Don’t whine. You don’t have the right to.”
He bites his lip, stifling anymore protests from coming out. Pulling on his arm, you lead him to your bedroom and push him on the bed. He tries to pull you down with him but you shake him off. Again, he starts whining but with a sharp raise of your eyebrow, he pipes down immediately.
Grabbing the hem of your oversized shirt, you cock your head at him. “Do you want me to take this off?”
“Yes, please.” He breathes out before you’re even done talking.
You slide the shirt up your body slowly, teasingly, making sure to give Wonpil a show. With the shirt off, your breasts are entirely exposed for you to play with them and tease Wonpil some more. Pushing them together, messaging them, twisting the nipples lightly, you do everything you know will drive him crazy until he’s biting down hard on his lip so he wouldn’t piss you off, but you could see from the obvious bulge in his pants and the way his right leg was bouncing up and down impatiently that he was getting needy.
You give your breasts one last squeeze before you slide your hands down your abdomen and towards the waistline of your shorts, pushing it down on one side only to pull it back up and do the same thing with the other side.
“Please.”
“Please, what? You want me to take this off too?”
“Yes.”
“But I thought I was a disgusting monster and you can’t even look at me. You have no problem with it now that you want to get your dick wet, huh?”
He averts his eyes, having the audacity to look ashamed and it pisses you the fuck off.
You grab his jaw, making him face you, and hiss down at him. “Either you grow some fucking balls and face the implications of your own desire or you get the fuck out of my sight.”
You needed him to voice out his desire so he’d admit that he’s equally responsible for what is happening. You’re not going to let him paint you as a monster seducing poor, helpless him. He wants this too, and he needs to be held accountable for that.
“What do you want me to say?” He asks, entirely too chagrined than he had any right to be.
“That you’re a fucking hypocrite.” You spit, astonished at how disgusted you were with him, while still wanting to be one with him. Your whole relationship is a mess, and you’re convinced that either it was never meant to be, or that the gods themselves are jealous of your love and are trying to hurt you.
“I’m… I’m a hypocrite. There, are you happy?” He challenges, but you just let out a tired sigh, almost having expected him to deny it and put an end to this—to tell you that this is insane and you’re insane, but he validates your insanity and now you can’t back down.
No. None of this makes you happy. You haven’t been happy ever since he left you.
You take your shorts and panties off unceremoniously and straddle him, staying still for a moment to see if he’ll try something, but his hands stay balled to his sides as he awaits your permission to touch you, so you give it to him. “Go ahead. You can touch.”
His hands immediately go to your breasts, touching you in the exact same way you were just touching yourself, and you laugh. “Aw, Pili, you wanted it that bad?”
He frowns in that adorably pouty way he unconsciously does sometimes, and it makes your smile falter, the memory of something you used to have but is just out of your reach now is all too painful.
He forcefully takes you out of your thoughts when his mouth latches onto one of your breasts, placing kisses all over it and sucking on your nipple. You moan out, a hand reaching for his hair and automatically tugging on it the way you know he likes, which only makes him needier, one of his hands eagerly moving down to your pussy, and the moan that leaves him lets you know just how excited he is to find you dripping. Too impatient to wait, his fingers move down to your hole right away. When a finger enters you, he’s the one pulling back with a throaty moan.
You chuckle breathlessly, feeling yourself quivering around his finger. “Does my pussy feel that good, Pili?”
He nods, pumping his finger in and out of you, making you gasp as you start unbuttoning his shirt. “Tell me what it feels like.”
“Tight. Wet. Soft.”
“Hmm, and did you miss it?” You slip his shirt off his shoulders, forcing him to remove his hands from you, but as soon as the shirt is off, his hands are back on you again, one grabbing a handful of your breast and the other two fingers deep in you.“Do you miss how it feels around your cock?”
“Yeah.” He closes his eyes and you know that he’s imagining it.
“Do you want to feel it again?”
“Yes.” His eyes snap open again, full of silent pleas.
You push him backwards until he’s lying down in the middle of the bed with you straddling him, his cock snug between your wet folds as you slowly rub up and down against it. With your hands holding his arms over his head, he looks up at you, gaze brimming with need as he holds his breath and waits, but you don’t give it to him yet.
“Look at you. You were acting all high and mighty earlier but now you’re willing to do anything to get inside this pussy, huh?” You taunt, rubbing yourself with the tip of his dick.
When he doesn’t say anything, you lean down to bite his collarbone, making him yelp. “Answer me, Pili.”
“Yes, please, give it to me.” He nods emphatically, throwing his head back and crying out as you sink down on him.
As soon as you have him all the way inside of you, you know you are in trouble. God, he fills you up so good. Everywhere his cock touched inside of you burns with pleasure and you can’t even help yourself; you ride him hard and fast, desperate to feel the kind of pleasure you haven’t felt in years. Everything is just different with him, the way he fits inside of you, the needy, almost reverent look on his face, his choked off moans, they all work you up to a frenzy.
“Does it feel good, Pili?”
“Yes. So, so good.”
“I bet you’ve been fantasizing about this for years... just lying in bed, fucking your own spit-covered hand and imagining it was me taking you.”
“Yeah, y-yeah…” He sniffles, lower lip trembling as he readily admits to it.
“You’re gonna cry?” You spit out, suddenly enraged, and come to a stop. “Fuck, you’re so pathetic.”
“No! I’m sorry. I’ll stop. Please keep going.”
“No. I won’t let you twist this narrative into you being the victim.” You fall back onto the bed and pull him up over you. “If you want me, take me.”
The muscle in his jaw jumps as he considers his options for a second, and you lay completely still under him, waiting for him to make the decision on his own, half-wishing he’d stop this madness. But he doesn’t.
Grunting, his hands grab your hips as he pushes his length back inside you. It only takes a few unexpectedly sharp thrusts for you to cooperate and wrap your arms and legs around him. Goosebumps erupt all over his skin when you pull at the hair at the nape of his neck, the shaky moan your action elicits causing heat to start gathering in your belly once again. You stare up at him in hunger, admiring how sexy he looks as the pleasure overtakes his features.
“Shit…shit, you feel so good.” Wonpil rasps out, his eyes squeezing shut as his thrusts turn sloppy. “ I can’t hold on much longer.”
“Don’t you dare.” You snap at him, your nails digging red trails down his back, making his hips stutter.
“Please, I can’t hold it.” He shakes his head, desperate to get you to let him cum.
“No.” You hiss, silencing him with a kiss. You swallow his whines as your hands grab his ass and force him to keep fucking you. The more he squirms, the more his hips grind against you, rubbing coarsely against your clit and bringing you oh-so-close to your orgasm.
But—seemingly just a second away from release—Wonpil goes rigid under you, his body freezing up too hard to allow you to move him anymore. His mouth tears away from your own in a loud moan as his dick twitches inside you and fills you up with his hot cum.
You can’t believe it. You were so, so close. Frustration and disappointment fill up the spaces the receding pleasure leaves behind.
“I told you to stop.” You hear him say meekly, and you sigh as you’re left tense and unfulfilled, just like always.
“It’s fine.” You mutter darkly, pushing him off you, and Wonpil’s face falls, shame spreading all over it.
You know your reaction is hurting him. Wonpil hated not pleasing you. He took it as a personal failure if you were even the slightest bit unhappy with his performance. His desire to please and your desire to be pleased are what brought you together in the first place many years ago. But honestly, all you can think about right now is that mind-blowing orgasm you were just robbed of because he couldn’t hold back just a little bit more.
But before the last bit of pleasure inside you recedes from your body, it is forced back in when Wonpil, still half-hard and sheathed inside you, starts moving again, fucking his cum into your sensitive pussy.
“What are you doing?” Your mouth hangs open in shock and pleasure, and you watch him grit his teeth and set a frantic pace. As his cock starts hardening inside of you again, he’s able to fuck you harder and harder, the determined look on his face the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen.
His moans are loud, and you can’t tell if they’re from pleasure or pain as Wonpil never once lets up his assault, hitting just the right spot that has you seeing white. When his thumb flicks your clit, it is over for you, your hands flying out to grab his face and pull him down into a searing kiss as you cum.
When you pull back from the kiss, signalling the end of your orgasm, Wonpil collapses into a sweaty mess next to you, still clinging to your body by wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his face in your neck as you both catch your breath.
“What’s so funny?” He perks his head up, asking as you start shaking with laughter in his arms. But the more you look at him, the harder you laugh. This is just all so absurd.
Wonpil watches you uneasily. He needs assurance, something that he had always relied on you to provide for him, but you can’t do that this time.
You come down from your laughter fit with a deep sigh. “Get out.”
He’s taken aback at your sudden coldness. This isn’t what he expected, not what he was used to from you, and you almost start laughing again. Is he really that clueless? Did he expect things to be just like they were before after what he’s done?
His eyes flit between yours, searching for a comfort he won’t find in them. “But—but… aren’t we going to talk about this?"
“Talk about what, Wonpil?” You ask in exasperation, “Have you changed your mind about my work?”
“No, but—”
“But you want me to make the sacrifice for you.” You finish his sentence for him. “This is why you’re here, isn’t it? You refuse to give up your job but you expect me to give up mine for you.”
“It’s the right thing to do.” He bristles, sitting up.
“I don’t care about the right thing. All I care about is my family.”
His face hardens at that, and through gritted teeth, he says, “Your family isn’t going to starve if you work at another firm.”
“Quality of life isn’t measured by whether you starve or not. I want them to have a good life.” You don’t know why you even bother anymore, he’s never going to listen. “You wouldn’t understand.”
He tears himself away from you and gets up, angrily putting on his clothes. “Yes because I’m just a poor orphan boy who will never understand what family means. Isn’t that right?”
“Pili… you know I didn’t mean it like that.” You unconsciously reach out for him but he jumps away.
“Yes, you did. You always pitied me for not having a family.” Pain twists Wonpil’s pretty features. “You know, for a while, I actually thought you could be my family.”
“No, Pili. I couldn’t have.” You sigh sadly, the deepening look of hurt on his face cutting you up. “Because you left me. And family never leaves.”
His mouth opens and closes like he wants to say something but doesn't even know what. Collecting himself, Wonpil scoffs and turns towards the door.
“Yeah, like that.” You mutter, collapsing back on the bed as you hear the sound of your front door opening and slamming shut.
___________________________________
You know it is wrong but you can’t stay away from each other. Now that you have had a taste of the forbidden after years of having sworn off each other, you couldn’t find it in you to stop.
You find yourself in each other’s beds again and again, hurling accusations at each other and fucking your emotions out until you’re too tired to do anything but sleep, each time getting more and more exhausted until you stop trying all together, just blocking out everything and focusing on the here and now as if nothing else existed outside of your respective bedrooms.
Your nights have been sleepless ever since he's gotten back into your life, and not just for the obvious reason that he’s the person you thought was the love of all your lives, past or present. No, many nights were spent just staring at each other, no words uttered for fear of disturbing this fragile improbability that brought you back together, or holding each other so gingerly as if you were made of matter and antimatter and your meeting could annihilate not only yourselves but the entire world you’ve built around you.
It’s a bubble and you know it, the translucent shell that surrounds you gleaming all rainbow-like when the light of forgotten dreams hits it just right. It sways and wobbles, signaling its impending explosion any moment now. And yet, you stay curled up around each other as if you can’t see the surface tension on the verge of breaking.
Every once in a while, one of you would lean forward and press their lips against the other’s, and you’d close your eyes and pretend like these past years have been nothing but a bad dream and you’re still college students, young and lost and unsure of everything in the world except for the notion that love is eternal and that you have already found it in each other.
You wonder what you’d look like now to your past selves, having gained all the conviction and knowledge you would’ve never thought you would possess, but having lost the one thing that made any of it worth a damn. You bet your past selves would hold each other and cry at the sight of the broken you holding onto the jagged pieces of your once-sweet notion with bleeding hearts and crushed souls.
Tears trickle down your face, and Wonpil reaches up to wipe them with the backs of his fingers, pressing his lips to yours again when the branching stream reaches even your lips.
Pulling back ever so slightly, he whispers to you and to the dying universe around you, the vibrations of his voice reaching your lips through the tiny distance between you, sounding choked up like he had begun crying too, “I wish we could stay here forever, just forget about everyone and be forgotten by them.”
You sigh and wrap yourself around him, his starry eyes shuttering closed and a soft pout forming on his lips as he drifts off to sleep, just like old times. And you're left alone to wonder... if you could do it all over again, would you have chosen differently?
______________________________
You knew something was off. Despite the time and distance that have whittled down your sense of him, you still knew that something was off. Your body had picked up on so many little things—the way his eyes glossed over when he would force himself to face you, his excessively soft touches that resembled those of a volatile lover silently apologizing for his latest outburst, the lingering looks he gave you as if he was memorizing every little detail of you before you went away—it just took your brain too long to make sense of it all.
Or maybe you just didn't want to believe it. You got too greedy and wanted to live in your fantasy world just a little bit longer, and it cost you everything.
Looking at him now, you think he’s saying something to you but every word is muffled as if you were submerged in water. He gets agitated, shouting something again and again that gets just a little clearer every time as he forces you back to the surface and you register that it’s your own name.
When you blink, your gaze finally focusing on him, he breathes a sigh of relief. “You’re scaring me.”
“I wish I had never met you.” Your sentence is slow and raspy like the ghostly murmur of someone fished out of water.
“Don’t say that.” He whimpers, "I had to do it." He says it like he means it, like he really couldn’t stop himself from betraying you, using you, ruining your life. "You said it yourself, we never would've won. It was the only way. These people depended on me."
"And what about me?" You rasp, tears stinging your eyes. "I loved you."
"And I love you." He tries to hold you but you push him away.
"They fired me.” You inform him monotonously, “They had me blacklisted to make sure I would never find a job in this field again."
Of course they did. What company will want you now that you've shown yourself not to be reliable? You slept with your rival and allowed him to steal crucial documents that could jeopardize the entire case from right under your nose. Your stupid amateur mistake could cost the company millions.
"How am I going to provide for my family now?" You moan, not really asking him.
"You could join us. It's not a big pay but—”
Your hand goes to pull at your hair in frustration, “God, do you ever shut the fuck up?”
"I'm sorry.” He holds his head down, sobbing.
"No, you don’t get to cry about ruining my life! You don’t get to feel sorry for yourself! You don’t—” You stop abruptly, unable to breathe. Cradling your head now, you lament, "Oh god, what am I gonna do now?"
"I don't know."
"No, you never know." You say bitterly. "I don’t want to ever see your face again."
His head whips up, "Don't say that..."
“Go.”
"I didn't mean for all of this to happen--"
"Go." You shriek and he flinches back. His lower lips tremble as he tries to hold his tears back to no avail. In a shaky voice, he says, "I'll give you some time to calm down but I'll be back. I'll fix this."
"God, Wonpil," You suck in a shaky breath, "for once in your life, I wish you'd leave it alone."
He jerks his head away, wiping at his tears furiously, "I'll see you later."
_____________________________
You struggle to hold back tears as you wait inside your cramped studio apartment. You don’t know how much longer you can stand to do this— lie to your parents about getting fired and blacklisted, telling them that you quit for moral differences, accepting money from the man who ruined your life just so they wouldn’t find out for a little while longer.
But you couldn’t do anything to help yourself, let alone support your family without Wonpil’s charity. The only jobs you are able to get now are in the service industry and those barely pay your rent and living expenses. You couldn’t even go back to your hometown and your family for fear that they’d figure out the truth, and you just couldn’t let that happen.
You knew your father would insist on getting back to work in order to help support the family. You barely even had him convinced that his condition doesn’t allow him to work and that he needs to rest. If he finds out you not only lost your job but also any hope for a future one in that field, he’d go back to work right away, and that could very possibly kill him.
Your siblings’ future now lies unknown. The eldest of your siblings after you is a senior now, and soon you’ll have to tell her that she isn’t going to college like you promised her she would. She has to abandon her dreams in order to get a job to help provide for the family, and as your other siblings grow older, they too would follow in her footsteps; a family that came from dirt and will die in it, that’s what Wonpil’s ideals have cost you.
After everything you’ve done, after all you’ve gone through, you’re still nothing. It’s funny that Wonpil is fighting for the poor and innocent when he’s the one who has proven to you once and for all that the rich will stay rich and the poor will stay poor and under the feet of the rich.
The case he betrayed you for was a loss in the end. After a long, tedious trial, his clients were forced to settle because they couldn’t afford to pay for a trial that kept getting prolonged, a strategy the rich and powerful employed in order not to lose doomed cases, in the end making the poor people poorer and worse off than they were before. That’s what Wonpil does. He makes people hope and believe that maybe, just maybe the world isn’t as shitty as it seems, only to shatter them completely when he can’t follow through on his beautiful promises. He breaks them because he made them hope.
Hearing the doorbell ring, you get up to answer it, moving mechanically. After you swing the door open, you stand in the way so Wonpil wouldn’t be able to barge in like he tries to sometimes.
He hands you an envelope which you take with a heavy heart. Every envelope you accept is a debt piled on you that you’ll live the rest of your life paying back.
“I’m working three jobs right now but I hope to find something with a better pay soon so I can start paying you back.”
“Oh, you don’t need to do that.” He rushes to say, but you cut him off. “Yes, I do.”
He sighs and stares at the floor, fiddling with his finger. It annoyed the hell out of you. “Is there something you want?”
His head shoots up, eyes wide at having been caught.
“I—“ He clears his throat after he chokes on the word. “I miss you.”
You hate yourself because of how his words still affect you, how you wish you could fall into his arms and let him comfort you until there are no more tears left in your eyes.
But you won’t cry. You won’t let yourself be vulnerable in front of him. Never again.
“Goodnight, Wonpil.” You say coldly, closing the door in his face before he can say anything else.
______________________________
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Does troy really have a split jaw or is that fanon?
It's total fanon!
The design of the split lines across his cheekbones and chin coupled with the cheek clips and v shaped hinge outline next to his ears lead to a lot of people coming to that same outcome, that there is something up with his mouth from a prosthetic/mod standpoint.
So much of his design is never mentioned once or referenced in any way (hightech spinal rig with tattoos under it, neuro connector, mech arm that's much older and doesn't seem related to the spine and neuroport, implants on bicep, face mod etc) that like Tyreen's scars and possible lower body Siren markings, fandom took over when it came to coming up with logical explanations for 'em.
This actually touches ground with some Ao3 comments I wanted to share as they are all Leech Lord compliant, so I'll list them here alongside links to the fics they were related to (note warnings!)
You leave no avenue for characterization unexplored. Troy's facial prostheses finally receiving backstory is amazing
- Maw (Gore/Bodyhorror)
I LOVE the idea of it being not just decorative shit on his face, but my MO for any content I make is always based around asking why, over and over, and trying to make sense of what material I'm using in the first place.
The modded mouth is a popular piece of fanon but you know... why? Why would he do that shit to himself. WHY would he want to be grotesque, why would he be chasing the reaction people would have to it when canonically he seems to really not be interested in fan attention the same way Tyreen is, what's the difference to him between being adored as his persona or being lusted after as a monster, etc. I just love deep-diving into the logic behind character and world building? It's what adds meat to the bone for me.
Big 'ol character and worldbuilding / lore responses list under the cut -
He could afford better robots but these ones UNDERSTAND Ty, don't you get it?
- Good night in (tooth rotting fluff)
Hey just because it's mangled and broken, and can't perform its intended function to a degree expected of it by everyone around it... and it's got rusty sharp bits it accidentally hurts you with sometimes... and it's cranky but it doesn't mean it... and sometimes it errors out in a way that's mildly disturbing in a way you can't place.. uh.. doesn't mean you should just GIVE UP ON IT you know?
He can fix them :) They will be fine :) No one should just throw away something that's trying so hard just because it's damaged... haha... :')
It's so hard seeing how much they tear each other down when they're the only thing they have left. And what a poor self-image Tyreen has beyond all that glitter and bluster...
- Wolf in sheep's clothing
The twins function well enough as a unit till tensions rise, and I was trying to seed in The Leech's influence on them in earlier work like this too - towards anyone else Ty would become MORE aggressively confident, more assured in her complete and utter dominance of the situation, her flawlessness, but against Troy who see's her for what she is, it turns inwards and eats at her instead of lashing outwards.
He switches from relatively submissive around her to almost surgical levels of dissection, he knows exactly how to go for the jugular with words, and doesn't hold back. She's The Leech's mouth but he's its eyes and it's only when they lose control emotionally enough for it to claw to the surface of their psyches that you get an idea of how much it really affects them individually.
GB had an absolute goldmine on their hands here of cosmic/body horror and the concept of toxic family when all you have is each other, there's so much to work with, and I figure it's a factor in why some people still really enjoy messing around with Calypso content.
I like how you allow Troy to be a disabled character, how his congenital defects and prosthetics colour his outlook and appear in ways big and small in all these vignettes. It's easy, I think, to see him as largely untroubled by his health apart from when he needs a charge from Tyreen in the game, but you allow him to struggle with his weakness.
- Chronic (Drug use)
I'm really glad to hear that's coming through in the writing because it's something I noticed a lot too. Very often when Troy, or other characters canonically disabled / chronically unwell are written it's "told" and not "shown". Chronic pain, illness, it's not something that is just a little tickbox in a life or some descriptive terms added to a character synopsis, it's something you live and deal with. There are bad days. There are times it is a negative that has to be worked around or faced in ways that aren't pleasant. It doesn't make you lesser or weak to have times where illness does leave you unable to function to a level you want to, it's not a failure for you to be unable to perform tasks when a disability or flair up means it's not viable.
I feel personally that by showing scenes like this where his health and body issues do have a very visceral and impossible to ignore the effect on his ability to function, and going through his mental processes of dealing with and managing them, it brings the character across as stronger than if he never seemed to be shown dealing with symptoms or weaknesses.
People are more than their disabilities and conditions, those aren't just kinda taglines to add onto a character's description and then never address. I feel like doing that in a way undermines what people deal with who manage chronic illness, pain, and who have disabilities that affect their daily lives negatively. Appreciating the effort it takes to manage them is important.
What I really like about these is that you can really understand as a reader how their dynamic must have evolved. How even before Leda's death Tyreen would have felt demonized while Troy got the attention because of his condition, because he was less willful.
- Starlight, Moonbright
Ah man, absolutely - and that shit stayed with them. It wasn't his fault and he never wanted it, but of course their parents would have had their extremely ill child at the forefront of their thoughts, especially during weeks when he was.. bad.
Tyreen by nature even without The Leech's influence is a little attention seeker, she'd be the life of any party and she BLOSSOMS if she's got the spotlight, but as a little kid who's got literally no one but her parents and her brother, and who all three of which can't give her nearly as much time as she deserved?
That's rough. That's really unfair. That coupled with The Leech's warping effect on their egos as they grew up and the bitterness and resentment they harbored in different ways created a reverse dynamic.
She'd never be out of the Galaxy's attention again, and he'd have no choice but to take his rightful place in her shadow.
I love how you illustrate both how much more, and yet how much less Troy is now. How the blameless child, full of potential, is inextricably linked to the brutal, larger-than-life avatar he fashions.
- DeLeon ( Graphic Violence / Gore / Hallucinations)
He's molded the monster he is now out of the bones of the man he should have been - there's no going back really. There's nothing left to go back to. He broke Troy DeLeon apart to build the persona that acts like an iron lung now, suffocating him breath by breath while forcing him to still take them.
That life is over, he killed it before it had a chance, but the idea of it is still there in his subconscious. Somewhere in the absolute trainwreck of Troy's brain is the tiny, flickering belief that maaaaaybe one day this will all be over and he can shuck off the bracer and spines, peel off all the shit he's covered his skin with, and just go back to not being Calypso.
DeLeon here isn't some aspect of his mental state or his sins haunting him - it's The Leech, spitting venom at a host it loathes in something that's not sound or comprehensible language. His subconscious has just translated it into something it can understand - his greatest regret.
On if Borderlands Humans originated on Earth -
There's a really tenuous link between BL verse and rEarth, but it's there and can't be ignored. The cultures, accents, terminologies, so many are Earth specific despite these people being spread across galaxies, so hell yes - Earth as an emergence point makes total sense. The next question then, is why is it never mentioned - and you can cover for that with a lot of things like say, tt was so long ago that it's not relevant to anything that would ever be discussed, or it could be a mass evacuation from a catastrophe there is little record of now.
I like to go with something along those lines, that the first human Siren host emergence on earth just absolutely decimated the planet. Like, we were doing fine till this random woman somewhere in the ass-end of nowhere develops weird markings overnight, then goes apocalyptic.
The first Leech maybe, not understanding her powers and having them rip across continents in a spread of crackling electric death that only left husked shells of plants and animals in its wake, or the first Firehawk who went nuclear and burned the sky, or the first Voidgrasp who lost control and began to collapse the planet's core - some extreme shit that had humans fleeing en masse with barely any preparation and HUGE swathes of history and knowledge left behind.
That would cover so many social things surviving into the BL verse, cultures, accents, cooking, that shit comes with us regardless of what we were able to throw into escape ships.
Like so much data would be stored on any tech and data arrays within the vessels people would use to leave a dying planet even in an insane rush, but that shit waters down over time - if you're farming barely edible plants on some planet that smells like farts, are you really gonna be that stressed about teaching your kids history from a lost planet when your current concerns are not being eaten by something with 19 legs and 4 buttholes?
Don't think so.
On if the other Siren entities are as influential to their hosts as The Leech -
I touch on it a wee bit throughout LL, but the others are FAR more passive and meld more to their host's whims. The Firehawk Siren wouldn't.. like.. care? If the host was burning down a planet or fighting off an evil corporation? They are removed from any nonsense happening on this side, they might not even really be able to tell, it's like asking an amoeba or a collection of sentient atomic particles what its opinion is on Brexit.
That's not really its priority.
The Leech is so aggressive in its control of the twins and desperation to drive them towards an outcome it desires only cause it's split, broken, removed from the song, and completely lost.
We're talking a caged, half-mad animal removed from its natural environment and left totally isolated from its own kind for millennia.
It's in pain, it's confused, it wants to find its way back to the song and the others and where it belongs, but it's stopped by a barrier it can't comprehend ( the twins and being ripped between them), so in its impotent rage it feeds back that hatred onto them.
It's not really sentient in the way we would describe functional intelligence, but it wants, and craves, and FEELS.
And it feels very, very angry.
Big thanks to @undergoingcalibrations for talking through so much of this with me!
Asks are Open!
#borderlands#borderlands 2#borderlands 3#bl3#troy calypso#tyreen calypso#calypso twins#sirens#leech lord#my hcs#my writing
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Here’s some old writing (probably 2014? gee.) from a tabletop game I was once in. This was backstory for my character.
Cameron Blithe remains one of my favourites, and I may yet overhaul the character and work him into something new.
---
At Attention
"At ease!" the sergeant bellowed, and the thud of two score booted feet hitting the ground echoed round the courtyard. "Not you, Blithe!"
Cameron snapped back to attention, confused and a little apprehensive. Being singled out was never a good sign.
"You stay there. Everyone else, dismissed! Come on, move it along! Don't waste time!"
The courtyard emptied rapidly, footsteps echoing off the concrete buildings along with the sergeant's voice. Soldiers scattered, some walking, others jogging so as not to arrive late to their next posts. Cameron stayed still, eyes fixed on the peeling paint above the door opposite until the movement died down.
He thought he'd heard the sergeant leave, but he couldn't be entirely sure. It wasn't worth looking round. Either this was some trick to fool him into moving so he could be called up on disobedience again, or he was just going to be left here for an hour or two.
Well, he was no stranger to standing at attention. If that's what was to happen, then fine. He'd just deal with it. He counted time in his head, taking note of the five minute mark when he should have showed up for patrol. He wondered if the sergeant had reported that he'd left Cameron standing in the courtyard, or if he'd have to explain his absence later. Probably the latter, he mused darkly, and he'd more than likely be punished for that too.
The air was cold and damp and smelled of sweat and wet concrete. As the warmth of exertion from drilling started to fade, Cameron became aware of the breeze. It carried the sound of men laughing somewhere, and the occasional call and response of patrols passing each other.
Ten minutes became fifteen, then twenty. Despite the demands of the posture and the chill of the air, Cameron found himself mentally relaxing and his mind beginning to wander. In many ways, the inactivity was a welcome break from the constant demands on his attention, time and stamina, and it was certainly less exhausting than drill. He let his gaze wander, examining the back of the barracks and what little he could see of the apparently empty courtyard. It was not so intimately familiar as the square more commonly used for drilling, and though he must have spent at least a dozen hours here, he'd never had the freedom to really inspect things.
Here at the back of the compound, the lack of funding was even more apparent. Doors were battered round the edges, steps crumbling, and he even saw a window with a cracked pane. Things were clean, certainly. They tend to stay clean when there's a large body of soldiers kept around the place with nothing to do but busywork. Cameron knew first hand how much effort went into scrubbing the roofs clean of moss and mould. But all the cleanliness in the galaxy couldn't compete with a bit of fresh money to replace damaged structures. Fresh paint was cheap enough, but layered over damp concrete it never stayed looking fresh for long.
The state of the buildings was a bit depressing, really. Clearly nobody cared about a back-end-of-the-galaxy posting like this. The status quo ruled here, second only to the slow grind of entropy tearing things down bit by bit. The future seemed bleak.
If he were facing the other way, he might have been able to see the mountains over the concrete walls. The distant peaks were frigid, sheer and uninviting, but at least they were something to look at. Unfortunately, it still wasn't out of the question that the sergeant was standing somewhere behind him, waiting for Cameron to move so he could scold him and inflict some worse punishment instead. By necessity, his view was restricted to a small area of flagstones, the wall ahead, and a small slice of dim, clouded sky above.
He hoped the sergeant was behind him, getting bored. He could suffer there in silence, he wasn't going to get the satisfaction of watching Cameron falter or give in. Of course, if he did get bored he'd be completely free to leave without giving Cameron the time of day, let alone permission to stand down. But at least Cameron would hear him leave, and then he'd know he could afford to fidget. Realistically, he was fairly sure already that he was alone, but at least he could get a bit of petty satisfaction out of imagining the NCO stewing in boredom, irritation and disappointment.
Time passed. The sounds of some other unit drilling rang out for a while, then subsided again. Though he'd long stopped counting minutes, Cameron estimated maybe an hour and a half had passed when the rain started.
It was no surprise; the sky had been darkening steadily all afternoon. It was light drizzle at first and not unpleasant, though he knew it would soon soak through his clothes and make the cold worse. A bird flapped past somewhere above and behind him, presumably seeking shelter before the rain started in earnest.
For a while, the rain relieved the boredom a little by giving him something new to look at. The ground darkened in spots, few and small at first, then larger and faster as the rainstorm gathered momentum. He wondered how long it would take for the water to seep into the sheltered spaces under his feet. Maybe when he finally moved away he'd leave a pair of pale footprints behind.
Drips congregated on the edge of the roof, merged with one another, and fell to the concrete below. Puddles began to form in the dips where the concrete was worn or damaged. Drips gathered on Cameron too, running down his face and down the back of his neck. Standing still, he didn't mind the wet so much as the cold. Wherever the rain soaked in, the wind seemed to blow stronger and colder. Soon he was fighting the urge to shiver. It didn't matter that nobody was watching, someone was sure to come back to fetch him eventually, and he refused to be snivelling and miserable when that happened. Let the weather do its worst, he'd stand like a soldier and show no weakness.
Watching drips grew dull once all the surfaces were saturated. For a while he shut his eyes against the gusts of wind which kept driving the rain into his face, but he wasn't entirely comfortable that he'd hear it if someone approached, so he compromised by squinting angrily into the rain. The light worsened, and eventually he realised dusk was falling. It came as something of a surprise. He must have underestimated the time. He'd expected to hear more noise of people dispersing at end of shift, but it must have been covered up by ambient noise.
Daydreaming about all the ways he'd like to kill the sergeant, he watched night creep slowly over the courtyard. Electric lights flicked on in windows one after the other, but none were close enough or angled right for him to see in. It was a small blessing. At least nobody could see him standing here, trying to pretend he wasn't freezing cold and soaked to the skin.
It was almost a relief once the rainwater soaked through the last of the warm, dry spots in his uniform. Sure it was cold and miserable, but at least it wasn't getting colder anymore and he could stop trying desperately to cling to the lingering warmth. Provided he didn't stare at the lit windows, his eyes adjusted well to the growing darkness. He consoled himself with the thought that at least he wasn't doing night training exercises, and thus didn't have to count mud, thorns to the face, or being shouted at as among his woes. Things could be worse.
The effects of fatigue snuck up on him quietly. The muscle ache and general sense of exhaustion he was used to as a standard consequence of standing at attention for a few hours at a time. Shivering was less welcome, especially once it set in in earnest and he could no longer resist it by sheer willpower, but not unfamiliar.
What caught him off guard was the sense of general illness. At first he put the queasiness down to hunger. He'd missed a meal, it was to be expected. When it got worse, he ascribed it to life simply hating him. Clearly this was the perfect time for him to get ill, and thereby maximise his misery. Maybe he was getting pneumonia from the cold. If he got seriously ill, maybe the sergeant would get in trouble. It would serve the bastard right.
Time continued to pass, and the nausea continued unabated. One by one, the lights in the windows went out. His feet were numb, though he couldn't tell if it was the cold or the prolonged immobility. He wriggled his toes in the hope of improving circulation, and dimly felt them move inside his boots. His hands felt strange too, oddly distant, and the sound of the rain began to echo weirdly in his ears. With a jolt, Cameron recognised the symptoms of an impending blackout.
He considered taking a break, sitting down and waiting for the feeling to pass. Nobody would see. He took deep breaths, trying to steady himself and to avoid throwing up. Nobody would see, but it would still be backing down. He wouldn't let them win. Breathing deeply helped a little. The oddness in his hearing subsided, and the nausea returned to manageable levels. Everything was fine. It was just a passing weakness, he was fine.
He woke sprawled on the ground.
Rain still fell all around him, and it was dark. Though he was cold to the bone, his face felt flushed and far too warm. The cool, hard concrete was not unpleasant, but he forced himself to sit up and look around.
He was still alone. Nobody had seen him collapse.
He checked himself over brusquely for injuries and found nothing worse than a few bruises, a dry throat and a headache. He hadn't thought his uniform could get any wetter, but on standing up from the puddle he'd been lying in, water ran in little streams from the cloth.
He had half a mind to curl up on the floor and wait for dawn, but he knew his pride would never let him do that. He'd been ordered to stand at attention, and come hell or high water that was exactly what he intended to do.
Agony ran through his legs as he forced himself back into the correct posture. He gritted his teeth and waited for it to subside, shivering violently. He'd been lying still in the cold, of course he was stiff. The rational part of his mind reminded him that standing still in the cold probably wasn't going to be any better, but he clung determinedly to the conviction that the pain would go away. Surely he'd warm up soon, shivering like this. He'd remember to move his feet more this time, and flex the muscles in his legs to ward off cramp and fainting.
To his satisfaction, and mild surprise, the strain did again become more bearable. He wondered how long he'd been out cold, but even when conscious he'd completely lost track of the passage of time. With the sky still dark, it could have been any time of the night, and anywhere between one and eight hours left to wait until dawn.
Holding out for the return of the light became Cameron's focus and driving motivation. He guessed at times in his head, building elaborate estimates of how long he had left to wait. When the rain slowed to a drizzle, he convinced himself that the change in the weather must be a result of temperature changes from the imminent dawn. By the time it started pouring down again, he'd moved on to a new hypothesis.
Realistically, he knew that there was no guarantee that dawn would bring any relief. It seemed increasingly likely that the sergeant had no intention of coming back to tell him to stand down. He must have had this planned out from the beginning. There was no reason to drill here rather than in the main square, except that here he could leave Cameron standing for longer before a senior officer found him and ordered him to do something more useful.
Cameron had no idea how frequently this courtyard was used. For all he knew he could be here for weeks before anyone came back out here. Morbidly he wondered what they'd do to the sergeant if he passed out and died here before anyone found him.
Of course, it would be ridiculous to stand here until thirst killed him. Technically, there was nothing stopping him from walking into the nearest building right now and getting a drink of water. He could come back out and nobody would be any the wiser, or he could just bugger off and get some sleep. What was the sergeant really going to do to him for disobeying an order like that, make him do press-ups?
He could hear the conversation already though, and see that smug bastard's face in his mind's eye. Some people would think Cameron had done the smart thing, and some would think he was being an insubordinate idiot again, but he and the sergeant would know what had really happened. If he walked away now, he'd have backed down, and admitted that he was too weak to deal with standing at attention in the rain for a while.
Well, fuck that.
When dawn finally arrived, it was subdued and miserable. Much like Cameron, not that he'd let it show in his posture. The greying of the sky that signalled the first light of the new day was accompanied by the noise of a few hundred people turning out of bed at half past five in the morning to present themselves for inspection. Lights clicked on in the windows of the barracks, then off again as the owners vacated the rooms.
One lonely light stayed lit. Listening wearily to officers shouting, Cameron wondered if the room was still occupied for whatever reason, or if the inhabitant had simply forgotten to turn the light off. Trying to navigate a floor plan of the building in his head kept his mind busy, but not busy enough to shut off the stray thoughts still cataloguing all the reasons he had to be miserable. Thirst and pain fought for dominance, shadowed closely by cold. Hunger, exhaustion, boredom and the need to take a piss were all present, but barely got a look in in comparison.
Despite it all, as the light increased he did find his spirits rising. There were no more reasons to be cheerful than there had been all night, but something about the light made him feel better none the less. Maybe it was just the fact that once again he could tell what time it was, or that there was more to listen to and look at by daylight than by night.
For an hour and a half, he counted seconds. The numbers got depressing and he kept losing count, but if he stopped he'd have nothing else to do and he wouldn't know what time it was.
Shortly after the ninety minute mark, he was interrupted by someone speaking behind him.
"Drilling on your own, soldier?"
Startled, Cameron took far longer to reach the correct response than he should have done.
"No, sir," he managed, struggling to think of an appropriate way to phrase the reason for his standing at attention all alone in a empty courtyard.
The man stepped round into his field of vision with an expression of equal parts concern and amusement. Cameron only barely recognised his face, but the lieutenant's stripes on his uniform told him all he needed to know. He saluted the officer, as sharply as he could convince his trembling muscles to move, and was quite pleased with his success.
"Do share then, why are you standing out here in the rain?"
"Sergeant Yandle's orders, sir," he responded. Apparently running several seconds behind his mouth, his brain belatedly prompted him with a handful of witty lines he could have used instead.
"I see. And when were these orders given?"
Cameron's mind raced. Or rather, it felt like it did. From the difficulty he was having calling up mundane facts, he rather suspected his mind was moving at something of a crawl.
"At approximately thirteen hundred hours, sir."
"Yesterday?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good grief, man," the lieutenant still seemed torn between horror and laughter, "At ease!"
Cameron couldn't quite stop his breath catching as he changed his posture. Every muscle in his body complained at being forced through another set of precise movements, but the relief of moving at all was worth it.
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yes! i hate it when people say belphie doesnt care for mc, this is a personal opinion but i feel like even if we werent related to lilith (and somehow we came to life again) he would be close to us, and try. seeing how the people he cares about the most react to someone he thought was just a human dying would probably push him to get to know MC. i know some people also think and argue that beel sees MC as a replacement for lilith too; but i know 100% he doesnt, he hasnt been able to verbally talk about his sisters passing to anyone, i mean almost right after she died belphie was taken away and beel assumed he was in the human world on "buisness", so for beel to openly talk about lilith with us as much as he does it feels special. i know he sees mc as their own person because of how much hes able to share with us, beel talking with mc about his feelings means hes able to finally move on, not to say that he'll forget about her, but he knows hes ready to finally stop beating himself up for it yk? i feel like people were also conflicted about seeing belphie as someone who cares for mc, especially the 180 he does when he finds out we're liliths relative; but belphie has had so much trauma, seeing the person he loved the most die, being separated from his brothers for years and years, etc. he was locked away with his mental illness for a long time, the anger bottled up and he took it out on mc, of course it explains it but it doesnt excuse it, you can still continue to hate belphie idc but i feel like he loves mc more than the other brothers do because of it, its the same thing with beel, mc allowed both of them to cope and talk to them about their sisters passing, yk?
Honestly the whole of Chapter 16 and associated fallout is p. controversial simply bc of it being us that it happens to; the game's written for us to imprint on the MC, and because of that, some scenes - like Belphie's betrayal and his glee at having killed MC - becomes very, very personal. It's very easy after that to become biased against a character, because there's genuine emotional scarring that we're left with as players that the game then just... fails to acknowledge to its fullest. (Which is why we get so many "MC might have forgiven Belphie but I haven't" fics on AO3.)
But to say that Belphie doesn't care for MC is just. Wrong. And I can def. get your annoyance on that!
He didn't care for MC to begin with, yes; MC was a random human he knew nothing about, a ticket to freedom and the first step into enacting revenge for something he's carried with him for millenia. They didn't matter to him outside of that because he never got to see them - or spend actual time with them - outside of the short visits they could afford to update him on their pact progress. That's undeniable.
But to say that he still doesn't ignores the entire point of the Lilith revelation. Being related to her gives Belphie something to connect with MC over. It gives him a reason to overcome his hatred of humanity and to bond with MC in general - which is selfish, yes, and kind of shitty, true, but so much of Belphie's (admittedly misplaced) anger comes from being a survivor of an incredibly one-sided war and (arguably, in his mind) the reason Lilith died to begin with. Because Beel saved him instead of her.
It's not like any of them were ever given a good way to cope with the trauma of the Fall, or Lilith's death. It's not like any of them even knew her actual fate until Chapter 16. Belphie's way of coping was to become apathetic, and to try and place the blame onto something he could take action against.
To him, that meant humanity. Because she fell in love with a human. Because they'd already fought God and lost, so he wasn't going to get closure there - but maybe ending the cause for her death would help the hurt.
He hated humans because of Lilith. In the realm of good story-telling, the best way to end that hatred is likewise through Lilith. Stories are best when they have that cyclical nature to them - especially since it can then transition into Belphie overcoming his trauma (and Lilith's death) through humanity.
So, yeah; it's a selfish reason to get close to someone, to take back the really horrific thing you were going to do, but all of Belphie's anger stemmed from the Fall and what he perceived as her death. Finding out that she didn't actually die? That she became human - became the very thing he wanted to destroy - and lived out a long life? That she had children, and that her family line is still alive in MC? Of course that's going to stop him dead in his tracks. And of course he's going to want to get close to MC, the last remaining fragment of the sister he's dedicated his entire life post-Fall mourning.
Belphie's an incredibly apathetic character by nature. He doesn't care about a lot of things, and everything he cares about is overshadowed by how much he loves Lilith. He needs that connection to get him out of his natural apathy. He cares about Lilith above all else; he'll care about MC at the drop of a dime if they're anything to do with her.
But that's not a bad thing. It means there's an opportunity for him to genuinely get to know who MC is, in a positive light.
It's an opportunity for him to try and make a connection with MC that simply wouldn't have existed otherwise, and through them, to finally, finally put his memory of Lilith to rest. And he does! He gets to know MC, gets to know why Beel adores them so much - outside of just being "Lilith's descendant" - and ends up loving them for who they are.
He puts his hatred of humanity and his single-minded attachment to Lilith behind him, and he still cares for MC. He wouldn't do this if he'd really not formed some sort of bond with them before that point. If he only cared for them because they're a fragment of Lilith, then they'd mean nothing to him once Lilith wasn't such a fervent part of his daily life.
I think the game's just... really bad at showing that, however. You put it really well when you called it a 180, because in all honesty? The game glosses over it much too quickly, and doesn't do a totally good job explaining the logic behind why he'd change his mind so fast.
There's not enough time spent on allowing MC - and the player - to overcome the emotional wreckage of Chapter 16 + fallout. We're not given the chance to process it before Belphie has, to build up a natural relationship with him that transitions slowly from him seeing MC as a Lilith-connection to him seeing them as their own, defined person. It's way too easy to still be emotionally hung up on it while he seems perfectly fine and dandy.
On your bit abt him overcoming it even without the connection to Lilith - I agree tbh! There is a lot Belphie would do for Beel, and I genuinely think seeing how against him Beel is after killing MC, even if they're brought back to life, would ruin him. Belphie being locked up, trying to convince Beel that he was doing the right thing, only for Beel to disagree with him and show genuine anger/disgust, would knock the world from under his feet. If he thought trying to hurt MC would make him lose Beel too - if Beel pleaded with him to just play nice, because he can't choose between them both, not again - he'd likely (albeit begrudgingly) postpone his intended revenge plot.
And he'd try to stay bitter, and for a long time he likely would - but then he'd see how happy Beel is with MC around, and how much it means to Beel that they seem to get along, and how much Beel opens up to them about Lilith, and he'd start to... reconsider. Just a little. Just a bit. Moment by moment, day by day, until he realises that MC isn't a replacement for Lilith, but that they bring something to the table that the brothers have been missing for a long, long time.
Which would afford Belphie the moment of catharsis; where he finally, on a quiet night, opens up about the Fall. How he felt, how angry he is, how helpless. How much he misses her, how the pain and hurt consumes his every thought. And then the player would get the chance to overcome the emotional strain with Belphie, showing him that his anger shouldn't be aimed at humanity when his Father is the one at fault, and Belphie, very quietly, admitting that they're right.
It could work, and work well. It's just a point of finding - and hitting - the right story beats.
On the topic of Beel - honestly, the concept that he sees MC as a replacement for Lilith is just... I personally couldn't imagine it. I can see how someone else could - being her descendant, the attic sandwich club, their little escapade together once Belphie's back in with the family - but that includes seriously misreading/ignoring a lot of Beel's character arc/development.
Beel talks to MC about Lilith and Belphie way before he knows anything about their relation to her. He sees a lot of her in them, yes - he mentions this a few times, I think, in relation to little things they do - but he also sees a lot of what he wants to be in them - which is best seen in their ability to defend both himself and Luke, which be very subtly compares to his own inability to save both Lilith and Belphie.
To Beel, MC stands as something a little idealised. MC is everything good he saw in Lilith (as well as some of the things he loves most about Belphie), and everything he wishes he could have been. MC is a reason to be better, stronger, more capable - both so he can protect them the way they protect others, and so he can feel as if he's on their level.
But that doesn't mean he sees them as a replacement to the people he's lost. It's arguable that he's projecting, sure, I'll admit that; he sees things he misses most of the people he's lost in MC, and I'm sure forming a bond with them helped him cope while he was without Belphie. But MC is still always MC to him. They're always still their own person, and someone he cares for because of that fact.
Beel cares too much about his family to replace them with someone else. Lilith meant too much to him as a person for him to look at MC and actually see Lilith. He misses her, not the idea of her. He feels guilt that he couldn't save her. His trauma revolves almost entirely around the failure of (self imposed) duty and the subsequent loss of life. His Survivor's Guilt is the main reason Beel can't put her memory to rest - because he's constantly haunted by the thought that he could have saved her.
His trauma, the way it is, does not create a setting where he would believably see MC as a replacement for Lilith. He's all too aware that she's gone. He's all too aware that he lost something he can never get back that day. Her memory is special to him, and being unable to talk about her hurts him because that's a bit like killing her off for good.
MC can't replace Lilith, even being Lilith's descendant, and I genuinely can't believe that Beel would even want them to. He's so defensive over Belphie and Lilith, even just over the memory of them; to suggest that MC could replace one of them I feel would anger him more than anything. Not only because it's an insult to Lilith, but because it's an insult to the person MC is. To the person Beel admires.
With just how much he cares about Lilith, I think Beel's enhanced attachment to MC is more the steadfast defence of her lineage to make up for what he couldn't do for her. He still sees MC as their own person, it's just that now... now he has a chance to make up for what he failed at before. And bit by bit, he can learn to forgive himself. Can learn to stop blaming himself for something that was never his fault to begin with.
Belphie and Beel have a special relationship with MC because MC is a direct link to Lilith that helps them overcome their individual Lilith-related traumas. They're naturally going to be closer to MC due to this, yeah, but that's... not the only reason they're close to MC. To try and push down everything they feel and do with MC to "it's only because MC is Lilith's descendant" is to. Well. A) make an incredibly unsatisfying story and character development, but also B) completely ignore that MC helps them bury the memory Lilith. MC helps them move on. Their care and love for MC is what helps them finally let go - to stop living in the past, in hurt, and to finally take a step forward to a future without the weight of Lilith's death constantly burdening them.
Like. If Solmare had just spend a little more time on these two, that might be clearer. Because it's definitely there! And it's why I love Belphie and Beel so, so much. But it's also fully understandable why some players still really dislike Belphie, or why they're not convinced that Belphie/Beel see MC as anything outside of Lilith, bc the game does kind of fail on that a little by rushing a bit too much. Just. Aagh!! You know?
I could honestly go on abt them for hours. So I should prolly stop here before I go on too long adfgh.
#obey me#obey me beelzebub#obey me belphegor#I still have no idea what to tag half of my shit as adfgh
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Hiraeth
Summary: Emma’s life had always been carefully curated for her as the daughter of a Navy Admiral. To follow in her mothers footsteps: meet and marry a suitable husband and be the best wife possible. But what she hadn’t expected was for her father to be reassigned halfway around the world to Egypt, and she certainly had never expected to meet and fall in love with a man so opposed to everything her father stood for...
A/N: Well, @shireness-says, I guess it’s finally time to reveal myself. Hope having me as your @cssecretsanta2020 isn’t too disappointing. I think I managed to get 90% of your wish list tucked into this little monster. I hope you have the most wonderful of Christmases this year!
Hiraeth: A homesickness for a home you can't return to, or that never was. Grief for a loss, something you can never have again.
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She hears a crackling noise coming from the next room, the oversized fireplace recently stoked with with wood, and even in its muffled state through the doorway, it brings a calmness to the home. Winters in London have always been chilly, but this one is by far the most brutal that Emma can remember and the snow piling up outside has brought transportation to a halt as the cobblestone roads give no grip to passing carriages. She briefly considers taking a few sips of the bottle of brandy she has hidden in the back of the cupboard to warm her, but considering the small child playing with her doll in the great room, Emma decides against, choosing to boil some water instead.
It’s strange, being in the house, just the two of them after all this time. Stranger yet celebrating a family holiday without the entire family, but such is life. She will allow herself to cry tonight once the child is safely tucked into her bed with a story told. She will allow herself to grieve for the man not sleeping at her side and the chill that’s taken hold of his side of the mattress. For the quietness of the home, but for now, she’s going to smile and tell her daughter a tale of Father Christmas.
The kettle begins to whistle, taking Emma by surprise, having lost track of the time in her wistfulness. Quickly she composes herself and sets about mixing up two cups of cocoa, complete with whipped cream and a generous dusting of cinnamon on top for good measure. Always with the cinnamon.
She places both cups on a small wooden tray, adding in some biscuits, before taking the tray into the living room. There, she finds the small girl playing a game of imaginary flight. The girl has named the doll Wendy, based on some fairytale she’d been told at school. One retold to her by a classmate whose father spun such tales for a living.
“Fly Wendy, you must believe. You simply must!”
“What must she believe, my Poppet?” Emma can’t help but chuckle at the earnestness of her daughter’s words.
“Oh, it’s quite simple really. She has to believe in the magic for it to work so she can fly.”
“Ah, well maybe she just needs some cocoa to help her outlook. What do you say?”
The young girl nearly tossed her doll in the air in her haste to run to the table where her mother has set the tray. Tiny fingers move at nearly impossible speed and it’s all Emma can do to prevent her from burning her mouth again.
“Careful, it’s still warm, you must take care to blow on it, sweetheart.”
The little girl rolls her eyes before nearly sinking her face into the whip cream, catching a dollop on her nose as she blows. Giggles fill the room and Emma’s heart begins to warm just a bit.
“Mummy, Theo told me that cinnamon on cocoa was wrong. That it doesn’t belong.”
“And what did you say in return?”
“Well, I told him that he was silly of course.”
Emma laughed. Her daughter has inherited so much of her father in physical appearance, but tucked away inside the girl, Emma often finds her own spirit.
“Have I ever told you the story of how I came to use cinnamon on my cocoa?”
The little girl shakes her head as she takes a sip of her now cooled drink.
“Well, then, where should I begin?” Emma smiles wistfully before continuing. “Once upon a time…”
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1881 Port of Alexandria, Egypt
She’d been sick since the day they’d left London, never having experienced the open waters before. She’d been on boats a handful of times as a child with her father, yet they’d never had the occasion to leave their position in the berth and weeks at sea had taken their toll. Emma, like a handful of others unaccustomed to the waves, had taken ill, turning nearly green in the face. Most of the men aboard had served in her Majesty's Navy for years, making such simple work of setting about the ship with ease. Emma envied them that, having spent nearly every day in her room sick over a bucket.
Her only solace was the blaring horn of her father’s ship alerting them that they’d finally arrived at their destination. Leaving London hadn't been easy, saying goodbye to so many of her friends. To the only home she’d ever lived in. Her mother told her to think of it as an adventure, reminding her constantly that it wasn’t a house that made a home. It was family. But Emma and her mother had experienced very different upbrings.
And the idea of moving to Egypt had been off putting. She’d been warned of the heat and the impoverished people. The less than ideal sanitary situation had also been worrisome. It was only at the insistence of her father and that Emma was able to avoid hesitation all together.
But that was then, before her family drug her nearly kicking and screaming halfway across the world to an entirely different continent. She didn’t know much about Egypt other than the English had recently begun to colonise it to ensure the protection of monetary interest. She knew even lesser still about Alexandria. An oasis of sorts her father had said, situated between the Nile and the new Suez Canal, producing some of the most fertile land in the country, which was also the very reason they were there. To protect more than the land the Queen now laid claim to, but to ensure safe passage for the ships returning to England from India.
“Emma, sweetheart, are you coming?”
Emma looked up to find her mother’s head poking in through the doorway, cheerful as always. “We really mustn’t dotile, it wouldn’t make for a good first impression.”
“Of course, we couldn’t possibly be late,” she mocked as she rolled her eyes, trying to find a place to stow her recently used bucket.
Heaven forbid they ever step one toe out of line. It wasn’t that she didn’t understand the importance of her father’s role as a Rear-Admiral and how important it was to keep up the image of the perfect family, but for Emma, it meant everything had to be just so. No creases in her dresses, no new fashions that were considered too provocative as they may have shown the slightest hint of skin around the reduced neckline. It also meant that every moment of her day must have been accounted for.
It wasn’t as if she had a rebellious streak, but she longed to have any semblance of autonomy in her own life. But that wasn’t the life she was destined for. Instead, she was expected to find a suitable husband of good social standing and wealth, and to bear his children. To provide for him in any way necessary and to see only to his happiness. So many of her friends had been all too eager to accept marriage proposals from men that ill fitted their personalities just for the sake of not being labeled a spinster.
At nearly twenty one, Emma had already pushed the boundaries, having recently turned down a marriage proposal from the son of the Admiral of the Fleet, a reason she strongly believed had led to the sudden reassignment of her father. Neal’s father had always stuck her as a horribly controlling man, a trait that she saw more and more in Neal as their courtship progressed.
“Emma, really, I must insist that you hurry.”
“Yes, mother.”
Emma rose from her seat and placed her bucket on the floor at the foot of her bed before putting herself to rights. She checked her hair in the small mirror hung on the wall opposite her luggage, trying her best not to look as bad as she felt.
The top deck of the ship was beaming with life. People milled about everywhere, barking orders to some, saluting others. It was the most organized brand of chaos Emma had ever laid eyes on. She followed her mother, taking caution not to step in anyone’s way as they made their way to the gangplank.
It was there that she caught her first sight of her new home. It was breathtaking, not at all what she’d expected. The sky above the city was the bluest she’d ever experienced, like the ocean itself had been reflected into the heavens, and the buildings lining the seashore erupted in a mountain of golden sandcastles.
She’d barely had time to take it in before her mother began tugging on her elbow, a silent signal to move faster. Once on land again, Emma and her mother were greeted by the women’s auxiliary group. There were a handful of other officers that had brought families with them to their new duty station, and as was customary, a greeting party had come to meet the newest arrivals.
The women, some as young as Emma swooned and cooed over her mother. It wasn’t every day that the wife of such a high ranking official appeared, and the women clearly wanted to make a positive first impression, cementing their good standings as well as their husband’s in the mind of her mother. Much of the privilege afforded to soldiers and their families depended on rank, but social status had long been its own form of exchangeable collateral.
They all exchanged pleasantries as the woman walked them to the nearby base, a small wall and barbed wire barricade the only thing separating them from what some of the women had referred to as natives. Emma tried not to show her disgust at the term, but it was difficult when they seemed so unapologetic for the slur. Especially when they spoke of the uprising and how some of them needed to be put down like dogs.
Emma had seen her fair share of aristocrat snobbery before, but nothing quite so brazen. If not for the young brunette ambeling beside her, rolling her eyes as the women spoke, Emma certainly would have lost her sanity.
Eventually the gaggle of women made it to the house that Emma would call home. It wasn’t nearly as fancy as what she’d been accustomed to in London. There weren’t any of the ornate embellishments on the walls, no wood carvings, not even any color really. By some miracle though, the house did have plumbing, which had been one of Emma’s greatest worries. Some of her friends had warned her that she would be forced to use outhouses and public bathes.
The home itself was bleak, but her mother took it in stride, finding whatever she could to be excited about, and told the women that she would make her own in no time. Soon, she’d even managed to command the kitchen enough to make tea for all of the ladies who’d been kind enough to stock the house with groceries for the newcomers. They sat around the small table in the living room and discussed what it was like living in Alexandria, gossiping about one of the wives who hadn’t been able to make it. At one point, the conversation had shifted back to the natives, a warning not to venture into the city without a male escort to prevent savagery. Emma felt the walls closing in as the conversation continued. This small base made of a few homes and barracks had become a small prison. All of her dreams crushed.
As the women rose and exchanged parting words, Emma moved to take her leave but felt someone grab her wrist, tugging her outside and around the corner of the house. The girl continued to pull her farther and farther away from any other people.
Not sure what was happening, Emma braced herself to dig her heels into the ground, not wishing to move another inch.
“Where are you trying to take me,” she demanded.
It was the same brunette from earlier, and with a wolfish grin she shrugged.
“To the city of course.”
_____________________________________
She wasn’t quite sure what had possessed her to follow the young woman she now knew as Ruby. Perhaps it was a rebellion from all of the rules that had been forced upon her in such a limited amount of time. Perhaps it was sheer curiosity, but she went, almost eagerly.
Emma listened as Ruby told her about all of the places as they passed them and the people, even watching Ruby greet a few of them as friends. It was such a different picture from the one the women on base had painted. Half of her had been expecting men hidden under robes and veils to jump out and grab her, but the men and women that they came across all seemed friendly enough.
Soon, she found herself entering a brasserie. Ruby didn’t miss a beat in rushing to a table with a couple already sat across from each other. With no prompting whatsoever, Ruby took the spot next to the gentleman, edging him further against the wall. She motioned for Emma to sit as well. Carefully, she slid onto the bench next to the other woman, making sure not to crowd her.
It wasn’t until she’d become fully situated that she’d really been able to take stock of the people sitting with her. The woman to her right was beautiful in her own right. Brown hair tied at her nape, flowing over her shoulder in curls. It was odd for Emma to see a woman wish such relaxed standards and so carefree. In old London society, it was an unspoken rule that women wore their hair up in fanciful twists.
But as surprising as the woman’s demeanor was, it was truly the gentleman that had caught her attention. A slight scruff speckled the entire lower half of his face, and his cheeks had a sunkissed glow about them. But his eyes, they sparkled a deep blue, and all thoughts she’d had about the Egyptian sky upon her arrival had been put to shame by him.
“Emma, I’d like you to meet my friend Belle, and her pet, Killian. Everyone, this is Emma. She’s just arrived today and I’m trying to dispel the lies she’s heard of the city thus far.”
Killian nodded in her direction, but remained silent. Belle on the other hand had been eager to speak, having originally been born in France, but she’d lived in London until only a few years prior. She asked all sorts of questions about the museums and libraries, and life in general. Emma filled her in on all of the newness of what she’d missed since leaving. Before she knew it, a table full of food had appeared, enough to feed a small army.
She’d been reluctant to eat any, not yet having currency to pay for her share, but Ruby insisted, telling her it was on Killian. He barked out a laugh, but assured her that lunch was on him as a welcome gift. The four of them ate and spoke. Or more aptly, Ruby and Belle did most of the speaking, which was fine by Emma. She’d learned so much about Alexandria.
As it turned out, Ruby was the daughter of another office stationed at the base, but Belle had no affiliation with the Navy. She’d simply come to Egypt for the adventure of it all. She was actually on a small team searching for the lost library of Alexandria. She told Emma how many of the explorers that had come to the country had done so for the glory and treasure. Most of them were in Cairo, exploring pyramids and digging in the middle of nowhere hoping for the best. She on the other hand was intrigued by the library, her treasure was the lost books. The knowledge that had slipped away.
Eventually, lunch came to an end, their bellies all well and full, and Killian informed them that he’d stayed as long as possible, but that he needed to depart. Emma wasn’t sure why - he’d barely spoken, and she’d no knowledge of anything about it - but there was a small twinge of sadness at his leaving.
As they excited the brasserie, she watched as he turned and gave both Ruby and Belle hugs before handing Belle a small satchel. Emma had been taken back. In her previous social graces, a man and women were never to embrace unless they were married, and even then, they were to maintain a certain amount of propriety in public. But there, amongst a city of strangers, they seemed to give it no thought.
She was taken back yet again when Killian grabbed her hand, brushing the slightest of kisses against her knuckles. She felt her breath quicken and her heart begin to pound within her chest and she worried that the others might hear it.
“My lady.”
And then, before Emma could catch the breath that had left her body, he walked away. She tried not to watch him as he left, but her eyes had affixed to him, and there was no prying her sight from him until he’d turned into an alleyway. A gleeful squeal from Belle as she peaked inside the satchel and pulled out a worn book was the only thing that finally allowed Emma to focus her attention elsewhere.
“Hook always brings her a new rare book when he returns to the city, and everytime she loses her mind as if it were not to be expected from him.”
“Hook, is that Mr. Killian’s last name.”
Ruby snorted.
“Mister Killian? We’ve really got our work cut out for us with this one.”
Belle shushed Ruby, only giving the smallest of snickers.
“To answer your question, no. His last name is Jones. Hook was a moniker given to him back in his navy days. He was always very prim and proper of course, but if the occasion called for it, he had a mean left hook.”
Emma nodded in understanding, trying to reconcile the image of a clean cut soldier with the man she’d just met.
“As as far as Ruby is concerned, the best part of living in Alexandria is the freedom to not abide by strict formalities.”
“Exactly, you needn’t be so formal here. There’s no Mister Killian or Mister Jones. No one here is going to rat you out for being human, Emma.”
“I-”
“No. You’re going to have enough thrust upon you on post, so in the rare moments you have for yourself like this, take advantage.”
Emma understood Ruby’s intentions, but she’d let her guard down once before and it had led to her father being exiled from his position. She couldn’t risk letting him down again. Instead, she nodded and did her best to change the subject.
After some time, Emma and Ruby returned to the base, parting ways near each of their homes. Ruby lived with her father and grandmother on the opposite end of the street. The girls made plans to meet up later in the week once Emma had her footing under her.
That evening, her parents discussed their days. Her father had his work cut out for him. Not only was he tasked with maintaining order in the city of Alexandria, but he’d just been informed that there had been a ship in the Medditeranian Sea that had been terrorizing cargo ships departing the Suez canal on their way home to London. He told them that the Royal Navy had searched exhaustively for the ship, but hadn’t had any luck and that they suspected that one of the neighboring countries was helping to provide a safe haven for the pillagers. They were ghosts.
Emma went to bed not long after, exhausted from all of the events of the day. Her mind couldn’t help but replaying everything over and over again in her mind. She’d managed to make new friends sooner than expected, and she genuinely enjoyed her time with Ruby and Belle. They were both so different from her social circle in London, more free and uninhibited. Something she’d always wished she could be but nothing she could have herself, given her station. The other member of her group had been more of an enigma, so quiet and mindful. She had to admit to herself, he was very handsome, and if not for his obvious relationship with Belle, she may have even allowed herself to dwell on his blue eyes and raven black hair. But he was already in a courtship, and she would do well to think of other things.
If only her dreams had understood propriety.
_____________________________________
The following few weeks were packed full of events and social soirees. Her mother wasted no time jumping into her role as a mother hen to the entire base, organizing tea parties, book clubs, even planning a winter ball for all of the soldiers. The weather in Alexandria was a far cry from the snowy streets of England but her mother made due, and also made use of nearly all of Emma’s free time.
She’d seen Ruby nearly daily, allowing their bond to grow, but the two women had only been able to sneak off once in the four weeks that Emma had lived in Egypt to meet Belle. The women had shared a more traditional meal in a British Pub that time. Emma had learned that the British people who lived in the center of the city had begun transforming the buildings, erecting more Victorian style facades with not one, but two pubs offering traditional menus and ales for the homesick. It was a remarkable find, and Emma was grateful for any semblance of her life before, but a small part of her couldn’t help but feel guilty, as if her people were ravanging the land, forcing their ways on others.
Even Belle had noticed the lack of Egyption patrons, and had warned the girls that there had been gossip of groups speaking out against the British presence in Alexandria. Nothing had come of it, but she warned the girls to be cautious and never to explore the city alone. For her part, Belle had taken a guide, hired by her employer for her protection. It also helped that Belle spoke and read the language, making her less helpless.
The days turned to months, and every few weeks the girls were able to sneak away for lunches at the same Brasserie as their first meeting. Sometimes it was just the three of them and they would discuss Belle’s research or Ruby’s grandmother who lived with her and her father. They spoke of news from England. Sometimes Killian was there as well, regaling them all with stories that Emma often believed were complete fiction. She learned that he captained a ship that transported cargo, weeks of sailing the Suez Canal being what kept him away for such long stretches of time.
It was during hose visits with Killian present that Emma experienced some of the most amazing meals she’d ever eaten. The chicken curry with black cardamom had been particularly flavorful and the Mahlab bread had been perfect, but for Emma the Morracan saffron chicken had been her absolute favorite. The four of them became very close, but Emma still knew little about Killian, aside from the fact that he’d grown up in Yorkshire and sailed. The curiosity of it all ate away at ther, but it would have been improper for her to inquire into his life in such a way.
Instead, the small group continued to meet when they could, exchanging mostly pleasant conversation, with Emma occasionally venting her frustration of having to listen to her mother speak of some of the more eligible young naval officers with the sultity of Nelson's Column in Trafalgar Square. She also spoke of her excitement over the Winter Ball and how it would be nice to have a formal dance once more with some of the young soldiers.
It wasn’t until nearly six months after Emma’s arrival that she learned that Killian and Belle were not in fact courting. The four of them met for a late lunch, eating their meal and catching up, and just as their plates were cleared, four mugs appeared, preordered by Killian before any of the rest of them had arrived. Killian had asked them all to keep an open mind, so Emma closed her eyes as she took her first sip, trying to focus on the taste, letting just the tiniest of moans escape her lips as the flavor exposed itself. It was sweeter than she’d remembered, but there was something else, something that gave it a small bite.
“Killian, this is delicious! What is it?”
Emma looked up from her mug to see a slight blush spread across his cheeks as he toyed with a spot behind his ear.
It’s cocoa, made from camel’s milk, with a sprinkling of cinnamon.
“Cinnamon?”
Emma wasn’t of simple mindedness. She’d seen the prices of many of the spices at the local markets, and while not as exotic as saffron or cardamom, cinnamon was still beyond the price she was willing to part with. While Killian never baulked at the price of their meals, nor did he seem to mind in the slightest the idea of paying for all of them, Emma often felt that she’d taken advantage of his kindness and polite manors, and the cinnamon cocoa that she savored did little to ease her guilt.
It wasn’t until after they all parted, all with hugs and Emma yet again with a kiss to her hand from Killian, that she learned of the true relationship between Belle and Killian. That they were merely friends, that they had been for years. Ruby teased Emma at her naivety, explaining that Killian had never treated them to such alluring meals before, not until he met Emma. That many of the dishes they consumed weren’t even on the menu but that Killian had brought the spices with him and bribed the staff to use them for the table.
Ruby also teased Emma for the way she sometimes looked at Killian, the yearning glances.
For her part, Emma assured Ruby that there was no such thing, embarrassed that she been caught mooning over a man she’d thought taken until only moments before. Instead, Emma changed the topic entirely, asking Ruby how the Christmas dinner her Grandmother was planning was coming along.
The next two weeks passed in a blur as final preparations for the Winter Ball took place. All of the women pitched in making sure every decoration was placed in just the right spot, and that every possible detail had been seen to. Even though the base was small, and word of mouth would have been sufficient, Emma’s mother saw to it that each person had received a personalized invitation.
Her mother had chosen silver and blue for the colors, to accentuate the uniforms worn by the gentlemen. She’d even ordered new dresses from England. Silver for herself to coordinate with Emma’s father, and a long sleeved cream gown for Emma, with ornate lace embellishments. Emma had insisted that it was too much, but Mary Margaret had been adamant that Emma put her finest foot forward - an obvious insinuation that it was time for Emma to begin a courtship less she waste away as a spinster in her old age.
The ball itself was magnificent. The meal was divine, dripping with decadent sauces that reminded her of the nicer restaurants she’d been privileged enough to dine at before their move to Egypt. The desert was scrumptious as well, but as everyone spoke of how lovely the meal was, Emma couldn’t help but glance at the center table centerpieces. Silver and blue christmas baubles had been placed in glass vases. Most were uniform in shape and size, but there was one small bauble out of place among them, lighter in color. The blue of a certain pair of eyes she’d been dreaming of more and more lately.
She’d been so engrossed in her thoughts of the man who’s eyes had captivated her over so many other meals, that she’d completely missed the music begin to play, as well as the young petty officer at her side. It was only the clearing of her mother’s throat that brought her back enough to realize that he was there with his hand stretched out to her, asking for her own hand for a dance.
Emma acquiesced, letting him lead her to the dance floor. There, they did their best to move in synchronicity, but Emma was rusty, and the poor petty officer had been born with two left feet. Emma had been grateful as the music came to an end and a new song began. Never had she been so grateful for social norms, the same one that prevented her from dancing with the same gentleman twice without being in a courtship. Not that it had really been much of a blessing. Each partner had his own quirks. Some moved too quickly, others too slow. One poor gentleman had clearly been taught by his friends, and had inadvertently learned the footwork meant for her. She did her best not to embarrass him or to bring attention to it. But after eight partners, she had become tired, and her feet ached.
Ruby seemed much more excited though, telling Emma not to seem so glum. She was just in the middle of explaining her reluctance to dance anymore, when she heard a man interrupt from behind her.
“Perhaps you just need a partner who knows what he’s doing.”
Emma turned, recognizing the voice but not being able to rectify what she saw before her. There, in a pristine Lieutenant’s uniform, stood Killian Jones, clean shaven and just as proper as any man in the room.
“How- How are you here?”
Killian chuckled and held his hand out for Emma, which she eagerly took as he guided her back into the center of the dance floor.
“I actually used to be stationed at this very post. It’s not exactly a fortress as I’m sure you know.”
“But, why are you here? I only mean that if you've left this post, then why would you come to a ball like this?”
“I’d never pass up a change to dance with a beautiful lady.”
There was such earnestness in his eyes and Emma couldn’t help but blush and look away, unsure of what to say herself. Perhaps Ruby had been correct in her assessment of Killian’s affections for her. They didn’t speak beyond that, but when the song came to an end, Killian made no move to relinquish her hand, and she made no effort to deny him. The next song began soon after and they continued to float across the dance floor to a waltz.
After the third song, Killian finally released Emma, knowing all too well how quickly gossip could spread in such small quarters. Together, they exited the dance floor and moved to gather some refreshments, but before they could make it to the table set for drinks, Emma came face to face with her father.
By any account her father looked rather austere as he took in the form of the man behind her.
“Emma, won’t you introduce me to your friend?”
Emma paused, not sure how to introduce Killian. It wasn’t as if he was meant to be there, or if he was even still in the navy - something she had questions about but would save for a later time - and didn’t know how many of the young naval men her father knew by name.
“Lieutenant Killian Jones, Sir. From the HMS Condor.”
Emma watched as her father’s features relaxed a bit.
“So you sail under Admiral Seymore then?”
“Lore Beresford actually. Admiral Seymore commands the HMS Invincible now.”
If it had been a test, Killian had surely passed given her father’s smile and invitation to sit at their table. David asked Killian all sorts of questions regarding his position and role aboard the Condor, and had Emma not been so enraptured by the ease at which Killian answered her father’s questions, she likely would have been bored of the conversation. The two men discussed Naval related items for a bit before the conversation shifted.
“So, Jones, as a man who’s recently sailed in the Mediterranean, what can you tell me of the rogue ship that’s terrorizing the cargo vessels?”
Killian scratched just behind his ear, a sign Emma had come to learn was an indication of his unease.
“Not much I’m afraid. I’ve heard a story or two but never encountered them myself. To be perfectly frank, I’m not even sure if they exist.”
“Well if they don’t exist, why would ships claim to have been attacked then?”
“Oh, it’s not uncommon actually. You see, before the canal was built, many of the ships would get caught in the storms around the cape. Sometimes they would genuinely lose a large portion of their cargo, and other times they would claim their losses to be greater than they actually were, especially if they’d been paid in advance. They’d hide the cargo and sell it at another port before docking in London.”
“So they pocket the extra purse?”
“Exactly, and now with the canal helping them avoid the more treacherous waters, they have no excuse to falsely declare their cargo manifest.”
Emma’s father sighed, trying to take in everything Killian had told him. It seemed far fetched, and Emma’s father even said as much, but it was such a bizarre claim that Emma couldn’t help but wonder if there was some merit to it.
“It seems like an awful lot of trouble for so many ships to go to, but I guess it’s not out of the realm of possibilities. And if I’m being honest, I found myself questioning the stories all together when I heard the rumors of the vessel’s captain's name. Who would possibly ever wish to go by the name of Hook?”
Both men laughed at the absurdity of it, but Emma couldn’t rid herself of the knot that had formed in her throat as Killian watched her with a cautious eye. It may have seemed such an absurd name if not for the fact that her father was speaking directly to the man in question without so much as a clue. She had invited the wolf into their home and he had devoured the sheep.
Emma’s chair scraped the wood floor as she stood in a rush.
“Mr. Jones, I do believe it is getting late and you said you needed to return to your ship soon.”
Her father, completely stunned, told the young lieutenant that he didn’t wish to keep him, and Killian for his part nodded and thanked her father for a delightful evening.
Emma followed Killian outside, where he immediately turned to her and tried to speak, but she cut him off, enraged at his audacity.
“Mr. Jones-”
“Am I no longer Killian to you?”
“Mr. Jones, given the situation, I must insist on following proper social decorum as not to beseech or sully my father’s name and standing in his post. I ask that you leave and that you do not return.”
He only nodded and took his leave, breaking Emma’s heart in two as he did so.
_____________________________________
Three months passed in which Emma devoted herself to her mother’s causes. It had been difficult at first as her mother pressed her in the days after the ball as to who her young lieutenant was, and Emma had assured her he was no one as she fought the urge to weep and scream and riot at the very thought of him. But when her father came home two weeks later, irate at learning that there was no such Lieutenant Jones on the HMS Condor, demanding that Emma have nothing to do with him and to report it if she ran into him again, Mary Margaret finally let the subject go.
Instead, her mother nurtured her as best she could, teaching her a new needle point technique, recommending books for Emma to read as the newest member of the women’s auxiliary book club. Anything she could to keep Emma’s mind busy.
Ruby tried as well, showing Emma new places in the city, showing her a mix of the roads less traveled by most sightseers. They shopped at the market and even learned to cook a new dish from an older Egyption woman that Ruby’s Granny had befriended. Ruby still took her monthly trips to have lunch with Belle, but Emma always declined.
Still, despite all of her activities, Emma found her mind wandering to a certain pair of blue eyes. Sometimes the thought of him sickened her so, but sometimes it just left her with a sense of melancholy.
He’d been the only man to captivate her so, to make her feel like she had value as a woman as more than just a future wife or daughter. She’d seen it in the way he interacted with Belle as well. He was different, and she’d foolishly allowed herself to believe him her equal in many ways.
But he was a coward and a cod.
Two month more passed before Ruby finally broke, telling Emma she was being stubborn. That there was more to the story and that if Emma would only keep an open mind, that she would understand.
They fought, and Emma sent her away just as she had Killian. But Ruby had managed to dig her way into Emma’s mind, and her will shattered, curiosity settling into the cracks. Finally, Emma gave in and sought out Belle, with Ruby’s help.
She learned that Killian once had an older brother named Liam. That Belle had actually been engaged to Liam before his passing, and that Killian and she had latched onto each other in the years since as the only family either one had left. That both Jones brothers had been sent by her Majesty to oversee the construction of the canal. That the working conditions for the Egyptians had been less than ideal. It was essentially slave labor, and many of them became ill and if they didn’t die from exhaustion and hunger, they died of cholera instead. That Liam had passed after getting sick as well.
It had all been too much for Killian, who had witnessed everything first hand. The poor conditions, the way his countrymen had come to ravage a country, to indoctrinate themselves. He couldn’t be a party to it anymore, so he took his brother’s ship and crew and they revolted. They shed their uniforms and sailed under no man but themselves. They captured vessels and stole cargo belonging to the queen, giving it back to the Egyptians to sell for profit in reparations.
It was so much more than Emma could comprehend. She’d seen firsthand how the British had taken over parts of the city, but she’d never considered it on such a large scale. And the thought of everything Killian had witnessed, she wouldn’t have had the strength to survive it all the way he had.
She’d been such a fool to dismiss him so carelessly, ignoring everything she’d known about him in favor of the limited gossip her father had spared her over a meal one night.
Belle told her that she expected Killian in a few days time, and told Emma where his ship usually made port to avoid the Naval ships in the area and where’s she’d likely find him in the mid morning. The next two days Emma felt her stomach in knots with anticipation and nerves. She’d barely been able to eat dinner and her mother had fretted that Emma had taken ill.
Sneaking away had been a thing of miracles, and had taken Ruby’s use of distraction, leaving Emma to roam the city alone for the first time. She knew the way, but there had been rumors of unrest in the city again, and although the port Killian used wasn’t far, she’d wished she’d heeded everyone's warnings when she found herself surrounded by two angry men, screaming at her in a language she didn’t understand. She tried to apologize for whatever she’d done and move on, but the men were enraged, and before she knew it, one of them and moved closer. She hadn’t been prepared for the stinging blow that crossed her cheek, nearly knocking her to the ground.
She felt herself being shoved back and forth between the two of them and felt nothing but fear. She’d never been in such a situation and had no way to defend herself. But just as one of them had pushed her against the wall, she heard another voice call out for them to let her go. There was a commotion, but her tear filled eyes had prevented her from seeing most of what had happened. All she’d caught was a blurry figure punching one of the men and both of them taking off down an ally, leaving her in the man’s charge.
The man tried to comfort her, but she recoiled from his touch, breaking into full hysterics, screaming at him to get away, trying to push against his chest when he didn’t leave. Instead he only pulled her closer and hugged her tightly until exhaustion set in and she collapsed into him.
“Shh, It’s okay, love, I’ve got you.”
It was only after she’d calmed down that she was finally able to make sense of what had occurred. Killian had seen the men pushing her and had come to her rescue. She collapsed into him once again, letting herself sink into his embrace that time. When they broke apart, she felt his fingers lift at her chin while he looked her over.
“Emma, what are you doing out here alone?”
“I,” she hesitated, not sure how to begin her apology. “I actually came to find you. I needed to speak to you.”
He gave her a small cautious smile, but he kept his distance, still unsure of his place with her. It broke her heart all over again, knowing that she’d caused him pain.
“Come now, let’s get you out of here.”
Emma followed him back to the market where more Englishmen were milling about.
“Smee, something has come up that I must see to. I trust you to take care of things here.”
“Aye, Captain.”
Emma watched as Killian handed the stocky man a small notebook before taking her hand and guiding her away towards an area she had never been to before. They walked for a bit in silence before coming upon one of the most breathtaking views Emma had ever experienced. The water stretched out as far as the eye could see.
“I’ve always found the sight of the sea from this place to be calming. I thought that perhaps you could use some of that calmness after what happened back there.”
“It’s beautiful.”
Killian removed his jacket and set it on the ground at Emma’s feet, signaling for her to sit. With his aid, she lowered herself down until she was in a seated position where he joined her. They sat in silence for a bit while Emma worked through her muddled thoughts. She’d had a plan before the incident but everything she’d practiced in her head seemed silly by comparison.
“I wanted to thank you, Killian.” She hoped that the use of his name would have the impact it deserved.
“It was nothing.”
“No, I- I’m sorry, I’ve lost all sense of myself. I just needed to apologize, for that night, for everything. I acted rashly without knowing all of the details and I was a child throwing a tantrum. And then after I treated you so poorly, you still came to my rescue.”
The longer she spoke the more incoherent her words became and she was sure she’d messed up anything all over again. But once again, Killian was the pinnacle of kindness and good form.
“Emma, you had no reason to act any differently. I selfishly crashed your party and then made a cad of myself in front of your father. I’m ashamed of myself for the way I carried on that night and your actions were completely justified.”
“They weren’t though, and I’ve been sick at myself ever since. Please forgive me.”
“Emma, love, there’s nothing to forgive on your part.”
“Then there’s nothing to forgive on yours either then.”
He nodded.
“But I must ask, why did you come that night?”
“Don’t you know, Emma? It’s you. I’ve been besotten with you since the moment I met you, and with all the talk of the ball, I drove myself mad at the idea of you dancing with all of those men. I know it was stupid and selfish, but I couldn’t not go. Belle gave me the information.”
“And should I have not sent you away, what would have happened?”
“Emma,” he warned, but she continued.
“Would that dance have been the end of the evening?”
“Emma, I’m trying my best to be a gentleman here. Please. I beg of you.” There was a pleading in his voice. Something she knew was dangerous to push at, but she couldn’t help herself. Not after all of the time she’d wasted avoiding him.
“Would you have watched as I danced with my next partner?”
“Yes. I would have watched with hatred in my heart towards the man holding you in his arms, and I likely would have slipped out before you could notice.”
“And that would have been it?”
“Aye. But I would have left wondering,” she nodded for him to continue, “what it would have been like to kiss you.”
“And now, would you continue to wonder?” All sensibility clearly having left her head as she never would have been so forward had she had her wits about her.
But all thoughts of her impropriety were gone as his lips met hers, ever so softly. Nothing more than a light press of his mouth to hers before he pulled back. She let out the softest of sighs before flashing him a smirk that left him beaming from ear to ear light a young school boy.
They stayed there, in that calm little island among the land for another hour, discussing things Emma had never allowed herself to voice aloud before, an ease and understanding having formed between them. Emma told him of the true reason her father had been stationed in Alexandria. She’d also spoken of why she’d been so sullen at the idea of leaving England. It wasn’t the idea of leaving her childhood home, or her friends, but at leaving behind any chance she had at independence.
Two years prior, the University of London had become one of the first in the country to allow women to not only sit for exams but to earn their degrees. Emma had dreamt of becoming a solicitor, but her move to Egypt had all but assured that dream dead. Instead, she would become like every other woman she knew, marrying an eligible suitor and bearing his children, to live a dreadfully boring life.
Killian told her that her dream would only die if she let it. That he believed in her and that he’d yet to see her fail at anything she’d put her mind to. He encouraged her to apply to the university and to speak with her parents. That even in his limited interaction, he could see the love her father had for her and that he’d want nothing more than her happiness.
He also told her the truth, the entire truth about the activities aboard his ship. That they had many friends that gave them safe harbor and protection from the Navy. That they ever only took items that belonged to the royals and other aristocracy. They never took from people that needed it.
She learned of his childhood. A drunk sot of a father and a sick mother. He and Liam joined the Navy as soon as they came of age hoping to improve their station. He spoke of Liam in the highest regards, and Emma wished she could have met him.
They eventually were forced to leave their little oasis to join Ruby and Belle for lunch, receiving knowing looks from both of the ladies as they sat side by side for the first time, feeling a rush each time their hands brushed each other’s at the table.
When they parted, Killian promised to write to her as often as possible as he had no idea when he’d next be able to visit. Soon he hoped, but they both knew that her father had doubled down on his efforts to capture the elusive Captain Hook since letting him slip through his fingers at the Winter Ball. More patrols had been sent and there had even been a reward offered for information leading to his capture. He assured Emma that he knew the waters better than anyone and wouldn’t get caught but she worried just the same.
Over the next few months, Emma and Killian exchanged letters through Belle. Their mutual friend knew of Killian’s confidants in the city that could get corresponce out by other means. From what she gathered, Killian spent a large portion of his time in Turkey, an ally of England, but not under its control and therefore having no obligation to the crown. Higher officials could more easily be bought there as well, making it a safe haven of sorts for him to hide from her father’s constant searches.
She wrote to him as well telling him that she had secretly applied to three universities in England, not that she expected anything to come of any of her applications when there were so few spots available and much more well connected families, while she was doing it completely alone. She wrote to him about the books she was reading as well, many of which he’d read himself, with Killian recommending more she may like.
Emma spent most of her free time with Belle. Ruby had taken a new beau and they’d only connected in passing. Emma envied her the ability to properly court her young petty officer, even if it meant having Granny as a chaperone most of the time.
Belle’s research had nearly come to an end. With no results, receiving funding had been more difficult and her employer had nearly exhausted his own purse in their search for the library. There had been a few times that they’d believed themselves close, but each of those resulted in disappointment.
Emma dreaded the idea of Belle leaving Egypt, but if she were to be perfectly honest with herself, it was likely for the best. Incidents like the one Killian had saved her from had become all too common in the city. Reports of attacks on British men had begun to circulate, and Emma knew it was only a matter of time before venturing into the city would be impossible. She often worried about Belle. Her hired guide knew the area, but should a situation arise, she wasn’t sure where his true loyalty would lie, or if he'd be able to protect her friend, and the idea of anything happening to Belle left Emma feeling ill.
And as it always happens, all good things did come to an end. Belle’s research was cancelled and her entire team had packed up, ready to return to London after years away. Emma spent the morning with her, helping to see to the rest of her belongings in her small apartment, making sure nothing was left behind. Ruby had managed to pry herself away from Peter long enough to join them as well. Emma had written to Killian, but given tensions everywhere, knew that it would be unlikely that he’d be able to see their friend off.
Not that anything between them would ever really be goodbye with their connection. In time they would find eachother again. But it was that very connection that ensured Killian was there for one last farewell lunch. They ate and despite the stories told and the laughs had, the entire meal was a somber affair, each person there realising that everything was changing and nothing would ever be the same.
When lunch was over, they all left the brasserie one final time, exchanging their goodbyes. The woman all cried as they hugged and promised to write one another. Seeing the embrace between Belle and Killian nearly broke Emma’s heart. She knew how important they were to each other, the familial bond between them, and she knew how hard it must have been for Killian, knowing that he’d be unable to return to England to visit her. Not when he was deemed a deserter by many. She watched as he whispered something in Belle’s ear, and how Belle could only shake her head in return, too choked up for words.
Ruby left first, having made plans with her father and Peter, hoping to seek her father’s approval. Belle left next, her ship departing shortly after, which left only Emma and Killian. They walked slowly through the market, Emma’s hand placed gently in the crook of Killian’s arm, just like any normal couple. Together, they simply enjoyed the time they had before he had to leave again.
They continued through the city until they’d made their way to the spot Killian had brought her to before. Just as before, he removed his jacket for her to sit on, and there they talked as they took in the sight of the sea before them. As the sun lowered, Emma knew she should be getting back before her family missed her, but she hated the idea of saying goodbye to him.
They waited as long as possible, until they could wait no more. But before they headed back, Killian told her that he had a gift for her. She’d expected a small jar of spices or a book like he’d brought to Belle in the past, but instead she watched as his hand rummaged with the collar of his blouse before freeing a small silver chain. She caught just the faintest glimpse of a jewel before Killian had closed her hand around the chain, the weight of it in her palm heavier than expected.
“This belonged to my brother, who gave it to me before he passed. He told me that it would keep me safe, just as it had him, and for all of these years it has. And now I want you to have it. To keep you safe as well when I can’t be with you.”
“Killian, I can’t accept this. It’s too precious!”
“Emma, love, nothing is more precious to me than you, and I couldn’t bear the thought of anything happening to you here.”
Throwing away all sense of propriety, Emma lifted to her tiptoes, resting her hands on his chest as she did so, kissing him with all of the affection she felt in her heart.
Her joy was short live though as she heard a throat clear from behind her. Stunned, she turned, only to find her father staring back. She’d never seen such a look upon his face, and her blood turned to ice.
“Emma, come here now,” he growled.
“Daddy, please, it’s not what you think.”
“Now!”
Emma did as her father commanded, helpless to disobey him, but she continued to plead for Killian, telling her father that he was a good man and that she loved him. Her father baulked at the idea, telling her that she was a naive child that had been taken advantage of. He told Killian that had it not been for Emma’s presence, he would have had the man seized and chained to the stockades already. That he’d found the letters Killian had sent his daughter. David was livid that his Emma had been so irresponsible and had betrayed his trust.
Emma wept as Killian left, unable to say anything to change her father’s mind. He parted with a promise to her that not a day would go by that he didn’t think of her. In return, her father promised that if he ever saw Killian again, he’d have him hung for treason.
In the weeks and months that follow Emma was inconsolable. She’d lost nearly everyone that had meant anything to her. Her father kept a strict eye on her and her interactions with Ruby were limited, and only allowed under supervision. Without Belle to help her send letters, she had been completely cut off from everything.
Most of her time was spent in a melancholy daze. Her mother tried her best to lift her daughter’s spirits, but Emma was despondent. Even when her letter from the University of London arrived informing her she had been accepted to study with them hadn’t been enough to pull her from her misery. It didn’t help that her father had become upset at learning of her intent to leave for school, just another secret she’d kept from him in his eyes.
She moved through life as a walking ghost.
The climate surrounding the city has escalated as well. Many of the Europeans had fled the city in favor of Cairo where the political situation was less terse. The officers on the base had been warned to stay ever vigilant, and visits into Alexandria had been officially forbidden.
No one could have predicted what had come next though. A member of the Egyptian Army who went by the name of Ahmed Urabi, had sparked a revolt among the people. The whispers among the countrymen had become shouts heard from all the way across the Mediterranian. Killian knew all too well the anger dwelling among the Egyptian nationals. He’d seen first hand how the canal had run red with the blood of the men that built it long before it had with the sea. And he knew it was only a matter of time before the land became overrun with devastation.
He’d also heard chatter of British ships collecting in the sea, ready wage an assault on the city, and how quickly tensions could rise. Emma was in danger, and it killed him not being there to protect her, and while her father was formidable, David didn’t know the people or the city.
Eventually, it became too much, and his worry for Emma’s safety outweigh any consideration he gave to his own life. What was the use of avoiding the hangman’s noose with her gone? So he sailed into the heart of the beast, to the ship he knew Emma’s father commanded, allowing his ship to be boarded by British officers for the first time since Liam’s death.
Killian pleaded with Emma’s father, telling him that a revolt was coming, but his warning came too late as the city had been taken under siege that morning. Riots had broken out all over the Alexandria, and that the British armada had orders to attack the city. It took ages of arguing between the two men before a resolution had been found. Killian was certain that the base was in danger, that it would be one of the first places attacked if it hadn’t been already. David, ever as stubborn as his daughter assured him that the base was the safest place Emma could be. It wasn’t until Killian listed all of the ways to sneak it that David realized his concerns may have merit. And it was only on Killian’s solemn word to return with Emma and Mary Margaret and turn himself in to be tried before a British court for his actions against the crown that David relented, letting him sail on towards Alexandria. Killian was sure that if not for his strict orders, David likely would have sailed right next to him.
When he and his crew docked at their usual spot, he found the city in near ruins already. Fires raged through the buildings, people fought in the streets, dragging expats through the narrow corridors by their clothes. Killian rushed through the city as quickly as possible, taking shortcuts wherever he could, throwing a few punches along the way. His sword found its way in the belly of a particularly large rioter at one point. Eventually he reached the base, as just as he had worried, there were already rioters beating against the building doors, tearing down everything in their path.
Killian pushed past them to the house he knew belonged to the highest ranking officer. Knowing that Emma and her mother were likely hiding inside, he kicked down the door, searching for them room by room, calling out her name until he heard her voice, small and weak, coming from a closet. Inside, he found Emma, her mother, and Ruby all huddled together trying to shelter themself from the chaos of the outside world.
With reluctance, Killian finally managed to convince Mary Margaret that she wasn’t safe there and that she needed to follow him. That he would keep them all safe. They fought their way through the pandemonium, running as fast as they could from the hoards of men screaming in the street.
When they reached Killian’s ship, his crew wasted no time setting sail again. They had only barely left when they heard the shots of cannon fire ring out from the other side of the city. Smoke and ashes overtook the sky as Alexandria burned before them. Killian’s first mate tended to the women aboard, making sure they had food and blankets as the ship drifted further and further to sea.
It was surreal for Emma, the dichotomy of the beauty she experienced from nearly that same spot as she arrived in Alexandria only the year before to the way she left it, in desolation. For hours, the ship stayed anchored away from the battle that raged on between the British and Egyptians. The booming cannons rang out through the night, and silence overtook everyone on the ship, each man and woman understanding the weight of what had happened.
It wasn’t until morning when Killian’s crewman witnessed an Egyptian boat float out to sea with a flag of truce that everyone was able to breathe again. As promised, Killian returned Emma, Ruby, and Mary Margaret to David’s ship, awaiting his own fate at the hands of Her Majesty's Navy.
And whether it was exhaustion from the night before, or the gratefulness of a man whose family was safe, David didn’t immediately take Killian into custody. Instead, he had the man escorted to the Captain’s day cabin, while his family was taken to his quarters to rest. Emma was too tired to even protest, but Killian couldn’t begrudge her. She’d been through too much and no matter what fate befell him, knowing she was safe was all that mattered. David had been right before, and as much as Killian had been remiss to admit it to himself at the time, he wasn’t good enough for Emma. He couldn’t give her the life that she deserved as a man on the run, and after years of always looking over his shoulder, he was ready to accept his fate. He was just too tired to continue.
He wasn’t sure how long he waited, likely only an hour, but it felt as if weeks had passed before David emerged, his fatigue obvious in the bags under his eyes. David gestured for him to sit at the round table in the middle of the room, before taking a seat himself.
“I’ve looked into your record. One of the fastest promoted Lieutenants in recent history. Plenty of commendations. You were once an honorable man and I have to believe he’s still in there somewhere.”
Killia had no idea how to respond. It was a far cry from the dress down he’d expected and deserved. So he said nothing.
They sat in silence, each savoring the calmness of the moment.
“I can’t let you go, but I can’t send you to your death after you sacrificed yourself for my family. I’m at a loss for what should happen next.”
“What I did, saving Emma wasn’t to barter my way into your good graces, or to leverage my situation. I did it because I’m in love with her. I’ve done things that I’m not proud of, and I’ve acted rashly at times, and I stand by the actions I took. But I’ve also come to see through Emma, that I wish to be a better man than I’ve been. And that begins now with me accepting the consequences of my actions, whatever they may be.”
David barked out a laugh.
“Yes, and that would go so well for me with my daughter.”
“She loves you. Surely you must know that.”
“I do.”
“Emma carries a great deal of guilt over the end of her relationship with Neal, and the adverse effects it had on you. She holds you in the highest regard and I promise you, she didn’t enter into a courtship with me lightly.”
David stood and walked to a small porthole where the view of the sun setting against the water was visible.
“Is that what it was then? A courtship?”
“You would have to ask Emma.”
David's gaze remained fixed on the horizon as they continued to speak.
“My daughter was accepted to a university back in England. She doesn’t know yet but she begins her courses in a month’s time. And although I know it’s what her heart truly desires, I find that I’m having a difficult time letting her go.”
“Aye, I can imagine.” Killing couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride in Emma's accomplishment, even if it did sting to know she was leaving.
“How did you do it? How did you let her go?”
Killian swallowed, trying to find the words. It wasn’t that he had let her go, as much as he had let her free.
“It wasn’t easy for me either, but as I said before, Ilove her, and sometimes loving someone means realizing that you have to put their needs above your own.”
David grumpled before rubbing his face with both hands.
“I can’t make any promises, but I will see what I can do about having your charges dismissed. No one outside of my family knows who you are. As far as the navy is concerned, you’re nothing more than a deserter.”
“I’m grateful, but you needn’t-”
“What I need is to know Emma has someone with her in London watching out for her. I can’t leave my post, and most of the officers back in England are terrified of Neal's father and will keep their distance out of fear of repercussions. As reluctant as I am to say this, you’re the only person I trust with her.”
It took some doing, many favors called in, but David was able to clear Killian’s record and his time was considered served. Many of the crew members aboard Killian’s ship had been just as grateful to step back on English soil after so many years away. While none of them had verbalised it, they’d each grown homesick in their own rights.
Killian found honest work with Belle and her research team, translating some of the more rare manuscripts they had come across on their newest search for the Temple of Deir el-Bahri, believed to be the resting place of the only three women to rise to the position of pharaoh.
And over the next few years, Emma was able to finish her degree, receiving it under her new married name with David’s blessing. Her father remained in Egypt, still under banishment from Admiral Gold. Long after their daughter was born, Belle and Killian managed to decipher the exact location of Hatshepsut’s resting place, which meant returning to Egypt. Killian had been reluctant to leave, but Emma insisted, reminding him that while Belle was great with books, they needed him for translations. The dig turned out to be a once in a lifetime find, and kept growing, so much so that he’d written to Emma, devastated that he’d be unable to return home in time for christmas.
Which had led to a lonely Emma telling her daughter the very story in question.
_____________________________________
The cocoa has cooled and the fire in the hearth long dwindled. It’s chilly in the drafty house once more, and while she briefly considers adding more wood to it, the hour is late and she really should be getting her little one to bed.
“So Papa started the cinnamon tradition?”
“Yes my little duck. You father introduced it to me, and he passed it on to you as well.”
The young girl lets out an exaggerated sigh.
“I miss him. In class we wrote to Father Christmas and I asked him to bring Papa home. Do you think he got my letter?”
Emma’s heart breaks at the question. Her daughter is still young, too young to understand that Father Christmas is only an illusion, something told to little children to get the magic of the world alive, and that no amount of magic in the world can bring Killian home in time for Christmas morning.
But sometimes, just as her daughter told her that evening, you only have to believe in magic for it to work, and her daughter's belief has apparently been just enough for the biggest Christmas miracle that Emma has ever witnessed.
Because there before them, in a freshly opened doorway just before midnight, stands Killian covered in snow from head to toe. And he isn’t alone. Shuffling into the entryway behind him is her mother and father, neither of which she’s seen since leaving Alexandria. It’s everything she can do not to cry as she rushes to hug them all.
Her daughter screams once she realizes what’s happening and leaps into Killian’s arms as he introduces her to her grandparents for the first time ever. They speak of David’s retirement and her parents plans to move back to London as they’ve already missed so much time together.
Later, when everyone is settled, Killian pulls her aside, and he reveals a small sprig of Mistletoe from his jacket pocket, kissing her with all of the passion of a man who hasn’t seen his wife in nearly seven months.
Things may not be what they were, but this is so much better.
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