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internalsealpanic · 4 years ago

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Camp Crystal What?

summary: Camp Crystal Lake is a fine and dandy place to spend your summer, said no one ever. You are inclined to agree with that and so are Damian and Jon.

a/n: I am back from retirement with a REEEEEEAAAAALLLLY long crack fic. (This is long as shit by my standards. Leave me alone.) This was co written and edited by my wife @littleredwing89. She was also the biggest enabler for this. I tried to give reader some executive dysfuction but I don’t think it worked out well. We’ll see. This is my first super sons fic please feel free to roast it.

warnings: This really self indulgent and really long. You would think I would have more gore in a slasher film based fic. No. Apparently not.

masterlist

Jon cackles, his chin lifting only slightly from its perch on your shoulder just enough for you to fully hear the petty sound. You tilt your switch, sticking out your tongue in a vain attempt to avoid Damian’s blue shell. You cry out, throwing your arms up in exasperation as the shell hits you just as you were about to cross the finish line. Your outstretched prosthetic arm nearly hitting Jon in the process, not that you felt too bad about that considering…

“Yeah! Got ‘em, Dami!” Jon says, high fiving a smug-looking Damian beside you. You glare at Jon, who was still leaning against you like you weren’t about to bite his head off. “Whose side are you on?”

“Justice!” This draws a snort out of both Tim and Jason who were both sitting in the back.

“No, you’re not!”

“Yes, I am!”

“He is, (l/n). You needed to be cut down to size," Damian declares, subtly brandishing his screen showing Rozalina doing a little victory lap in her kart as her little star guy floated around her. You pout at him, puffing your cheeks like an unruly chipmunk as you cross your arms over your chest. This only serves to make Damian all the smugger and Jon all the more gleeful at your loss.

You turn the full force of your ire on Jon who was smiling innocently at you, big blue eyes sparkling reminding you of your husky, Yoohoo. You’re about to say something scathing but stop instead deciding to stew in your loss and sulk as you hand Jon your Switch. You’d think he would be more prepared since he was the one who insisted on coming with you to this camp. Now that you think about it, why were they here? All you remember is telling Jon that you couldn’t go visit him over the summer because your parents were sticking you in a summer camp while they go abroad for something and the next thing you know is that you’re in an SUV with Jon, Damian, Damian’s older brother’s, and their friend(?). Whatever she was to them Damiam never adequately explained like everything else. Though you suspect she was Dick’s wife judging from how little they cared whether the other invaded their space. The lack of a wedding ring made you unsure.

You let out a little huff, melting into your oversized Gotham U hoodie, letting Jon lean on you despite your sour mood and touch aversion. You lean against him in return and watch as Yoshi zips past Rosalina in mild petty satisfaction.

You all file out of the car, drowsy and irritable. You muss Jon’s bed head into an even more tangled mess. Neither of you tells Damian about the streak of drool on his face. Tim shuffles the three of you towards the convenience store while Jason politely explains to the mechanic that he’s wrong, Dick orders lunch at the diner and makes a call back to Gotham presumably to make sure Wayne industries isn’t burning down.

Over your shoulder, you can see Jason’s form working hard not to look threatening. It’s not working or maybe the mechanic was shaking because Faust isn’t even trying to hide the irritation wicking off of her.

“He wha-” Tim pinches the bridge of his nose muttering something about Mr.Wayne. He looks pained. Tim hands you a wad of one-dollar bills as his voice takes Timothy Wayne's public speaker pitch. All of the Wayne’s seem to have three voices. Their Wayne voice, their vigilante voice, and their normal voice. Mr. Wayne has the most distinct voice. Dick’s was honestly really hard to distinguish.

You count the wad of cash in your hand as Jon grabs a basket from the pile. You note, with amusement, that at least five of the bills had variations of ‘don’t buy cereal’ written on them in distinct handwriting.

“Kent, are you planning to put the entire store in the basket?”

“Nah, just the good stuff.”

You marvel at the amount of food Jon managed stockpile in your basket while you were distracted.

“Uh, Jon, we don’t need that much.” Plus, I don’t think we can eat all of that.

“They’re right,” Damian chides, making Jon pout.

After a healthy amount of debate, two almost food fights, a near fistfight, and your attempt at puppy dog eyes, you finally narrow the snacks down and even have enough money left for slushies. You shrug at her, adding more blue than necessary. There weren’t rules against this. Plus, it was tastier this way.

“Dami, what flavor do you want?” Jon shouts from the slushie machine. Beside him, you swirl a mix of red, green, pink, and blue slushies. The lady at the counter was wrinkling her nose at you the way Dami is wrinkling his nose at Jon.

Jon’s big cup of neon blue smoothie dropped to the floor in a loud clatter.

“You’re all doomed! He’s coming. He’s coming! That place is cursed!” The scraggly man screams as he shakes Jon. Damian’s lip tries not to curl in amusement as you both watch the scene unfold. Out of context, this was horrifying. In context, it was hilarious especially considering how badly Jon is acting. The clerk at the counter looks appropriately horrified. You look at Jon, feeling a twinge of worry. He’s not in danger. You know that but you can’t help it.

Your concoction flies into the man’s face in no time flat and Jon scrambles to your side as soon as the man drops him. You step in front of him bracing for further confrontation but the man simply walks off muttering about something you couldn’t hear over the beating of your heart.

“Exactly, why am I in the back?” Jason whines, unfolding and refolding himself, not quite sure where to place what limb in the cramped back row of the SUV. You let out a giggle which earns you a rather harsh glare from an already irate Jason. Damian glares back at him for you, in an oddly protective gesture, and you can’t help but feel strangely smug about it.

They glower at each other for a few minutes. Jason, probably knowing this was a stalemate, turns his attention towards the front of the vehicle, sharp green eyes narrowing at the rearview mirror. “Shouldn’t Faust’s short ass be in the back with Timbo and the Three Tiny Terrors?”

You hear an amused huff from the front along with the loud crinkling and shuffling of the map. Faust glances over her shoulder, the bright mischief in her eyes contrasting with the rich brown of her skin. You wonder if everyone in Damian and Jon’s lives were all this pretty. An almost smile quirks on the edges of her lips as she says “You didn’t call shotgun~”

Jason hisses something colorful behind you. Tim, beside him, is chuckling either from Jason’s misery or, based on the defeated cry coming from Jon, having just nailed Yoshi with lightning. Could be both. It was likely.

Jason, looking positively annoyed, unfolds himself and violently settles his feet on Tim’s lap. Tim yelps then says something close to a swear word. Jason grins lazily looking more like a cat as he leans back. This time Jon cries out in joy, the victory music blaring from your switch. Again, Tim hisses something edging towards a curse word. Jon wriggles out of his seat and fist bumps Jason who returns the gesture enthusiastically. In the reflection on the windshield, you can clearly see the amusement in Dick’s smile. Even to your right, Damian seems amused if not outright gleeful at seeing Tim’s misery. You couldn’t quite tell. You weren’t a master of reading Waynes yet. You would turn to Jon but he wasn't fluent either. Faust told you that it would take a while which just meant that you would never master it. Reading people was hard enough as it was. There was always something difficult about interpreting social signals. It was so easy to get them wrong and when you add in the complication of being a vigilante you just found yourself frustrated. You slump into the seat feeling the frustration writhing under your skin. Jon noticing your frustration eases up and gives you a little more space.

"So, what's with the map?" Tim asks, throwing Jason's feet back at him and handing you his switch. Faust wrinkles her nose at the offending piece of paper. "Well, Dicktopus here insisted on the authentic road trip atmosphere complete with bad cell signal, a map, and oh right, getting lost." Dick gives her a look which Faust just shrugs it off.

"Like what? The Goofy movie?" Tim asks incredulously, his brows wrinkling in the rearview mirror as he gives Dick a withering look.

Faust snorts in confirmation. Jon’s face crumples in confusion. You make a small hiccupping noise mimicking the noise that passes for Goofy's laugh and you see as the bleary memory clicks into place. "You mean the old movie we watched last night?"

"It's old but gold," Dick defends fervently, earning him an indulgent smile from Faust and a withering look from Damian. Damian shrinks into his seat unwilling to expend too much effort defending his mentor's taste in movies despite him enjoying the movie. You did too but you wanted to see how this would play out. Behind you, Jason shifts, a shark-like grin plastered across his face. " Just because that's the movie you modeled your life after, Big Bird, doesn't mean it's good."

Dick makes this affronted noise that makes him sound a little like he's squawking. "It's a good movie and you know it!" Dick says earnestly, scowling at a still cocky Jason through the reflection in the windshield. You see Damian, Jason, Faust, and Tim's eyes meet in the rearview mirror, all shining conspiratorially. You and Jon give each other a look, each looking like you're bracing for disaster.

"Dunno, Dick, I think the second one was soooo much better," Tim pipes up finally. It sounds like the spark lighting a trail of gunpowder towards a powder keg.

"I have to agree with Drake," Damian says honestly sounding pained.

Faust rewards him with a conspiratorial smile which makes Damian ease a little. The gesture from what you understood roughly translated to 'it was for the greater good.' "So much for your taste in movies, Dickens," Faust teases, poking a finger at Dick’s shoulder.

"You're one to talk!" Dick says, rolling his eyes childishly.

Faust twists her body to look at all 5 of you, winking at you and Jon as if she was about to perform a magic trick, which wasn't off the table since she could actually pull weapons from her tattooed skin. "You guys loved Lake Placid, right?"

Playing along, you each gave varying sounds of agreement til Dick finally threw his hands up in exasperation. "HEATHENS!" Faust looks pleased as punch at this reaction. You giggle as Dick groans into the steering wheel as you slow to a stop in front of a cross-section.

"Traitors all of you," Dick says, resting his arm on the back of his seat and giving all of you a halfhearted scowl. He kind of looked like Yoohoo when you refused to give him treats.

You all bask in Dick’s misery. You even catch Jon giggling at Dick’s frown despite himself. The rest were completely unrepentant. They don't even bother to hide the self-satisfied smiles on their faces, least of all Damian who vehemently protested to being subjected to such drivel. This is, of course, ignoring the fact that he had watched the movie with the same rapt attention as you and Jon. You all enjoyed the movie just as much as Dick did but it was much funnier to gang up on him.

Dick continues to argue his point as all of you offer, frankly, bogus arguments that you say with as much conviction as Dick levels against you. The banter continues in a rather jaunty rhythm until a fallen tree forces the car into a rather abrupt stop.

"Shit!" Jason hisses at full volume as his knees hit the back of Damian’s seat which draws out a soft 'oof' from Damian which quickly reshapes into a snarl. Tim and Damian give Jason a look of mock sympathy. Jason raises his middle finger in a vaguely familiar gesture.

"Jason!" Dick says, cutting off your train of thought much to your frustration. You contemplate hissing some colorful words yourself.

Jason grunts, probably rubbing his shins. "They've heard, said, and done worse." You hear Jon protest beside you but it's quickly cut off by a 'not you' from somewhere.

Then it hits you. "Oh yeah! Dami did that hand thingy when he drop-kicked someone during lunch," you admit conversationally.

"Dami!"

Damian gives you an absolutely betrayed look. You shrug at him not entirely sure what was wrong. You shrink a little and Damian pulls back a little but still glares.

"Didn't you hear him say the F-word?" Jon adds. You blink at him, running through your memory like a film reel and turning up nothing. "Some of us don't have super hearing," you supply with no real anger behind it.

"Ope, sorry, (y/n)." You shrug at him congenially as he smiles sheepishly at you. No harm no foul.

"Kent!"

"Oh- Uh, sorry, Dami."

Damian doesn't look appeased at all by this.

“Ok, so we’re just gonna skip over the fact that he drop-kicked someone?” Tim asks, raising a brow and you find yourself thinking, “Well, yeah. He’s Robin. That’s kinda his thing.”

Jason snorts beside him, seemingly less irritable now that Dick’s attention was directed elsewhere. “He didn’t get caught soooo..”

“Jason!”

“Jason, we’re not supposed to be obvious about being terrible influences.” Faust jokes, now redirecting Dick’s ire to her. You can’t tell if that was intentional or not but either way she seems to be enjoying how Dick’s expression makes him look like a carp gasping for air.

“Why did you tell them?” Damian hisses, albeit softer than he normally does. You frown at him confused. You thought it was spectacular and you really don’t know what was wrong. You really wish they’d explain it. Maybe you should speak up but would that be rude? You stare at Damian trying your hardest to convey your confusion but you’re having trouble shaping your face into the correct one. You try to keep in mind the face Jon makes when Damian tried to explain quantum physics to both of you.

Turning away from her argument with Dick, Faust looks at you pityingly before speaking and putting her hand up to Dick’s face lightly pushing him back. “Relax, Baby Vamp, I would’ve gotten it out of them sooner or later,” Faust says, looking at you with the same stern look Mr. Pennyworth gives you when you try to steal cookies. It kind of reminds you of the Penance Stare from Ghost Riders but with less flaming skulls and more implied disappointment.

“Tim was the one who ate the last few pieces of the brownies Mr. Pennyworth made for Jason.” The words flow out of you like water from a cataract. Faust waves her hand theatrically as if she had just demonstrated a magic trick. Again, you’re pretty sure this was one. You wince fully expecting Tim to have the same caustic reaction as Damian. But when you turn to look at him to apologize, Tim already had his hands up in front of him defensively. On the other side, not far enough away for Tim’s liking, Jason looks livid, steam coming out of his ears.

“Those were mine, asshole!”

“You eat them every time you’re at the Manor!”

“When I’m at the Manor! Which is what? Once every three months?”

“Two,” Tim deadpans, holding up two fingers.

That was the wrong thing to say, you realize. From the way they’re staring at each other, you’re a little afraid they’d come to blows as Jason surges forward.

“Tim, Jay, I will turn this car around if you two don’t stop.”

“Please, continue.” Dick shoots Damian a ‘you are not helping’ glare but Damian simply answers with a warning one. They all look ready for a brawl and all you want to do is curl up into your oversized hoodie. You play with the frayed edges of your hoodie hoping you’re radiating your discomfort.

And like an angel of mercy, Faust clears her throat. “(Y/n), Jon, help me clear the road.” The statement leaves no room for argument and you and Jon breathe a collective sigh of relief.

Jon lifts the tree with ease. It was an oddly healthy tree, freshly cut. Something about it made your stomach turn. “Jon could have done it alone. Why bring me?” You ask, distracting yourself from the strange feeling by fiddling with the joints of your metal hand which only made you more conscious of how pointless it was to bring you along. Faust glances towards the car. The boys are still bickering. She then glances down at you with a wry smile. “Waynes bickering is really funny from a distance.” Your eyes glance at the light scar on her running down her clavicle, disappearing into the line of her shirt. You doubt it’s from any of them. You really doubt it. The Wayne kids were chaotic, especially the girls, but they’re never- Well, they can be hurtful but not that way. Not that you’ve seen anyway. You shake your head and glance at the car and watch them argue. Their gestures are animated and loud enough that you could almost hear the bickering going on. This liveliness settles your stomach.

You spend a few minutes out there waiting for them to settle down. It was long enough for you and Jon to start debating the existence of Gummy Bear shaped aliens and for Faust to weigh in with her humble opinion. Dick honks at the three of you to tell you it was, relatively, safe to come back. Tim, Damian, and Jason were all sulking in their respective corners while Dick gives you and Jon an apologetic look. Jon simply shrugs as if to say it was normal for brothers to argue but you found it hard to picture Conner ever being that mean to Jon or vice versa for that matter. Faust rolls her eyes at the sulking birds, a fond smile quirking on her lips. Dick gives her a look that was usually followed by the words ‘I miss not being the adult’ which she graciously answers with a smile that plainly says ‘me too.’

In the corner of your eye, you see something- a shadow- move in the woods as you drive off, Dick’s story about space aliens falling away into the background. You turn to Jon who looks at you confused and a little concerned. It was clear he didn’t see it, whatever it was. You turn to Damian but see he’s still stewing. You blin and the shadow is gone. A sticky feeling of dread settles in your stomach.

There's pressure in the car.

The camp is, well, loud.

Louder than you were expecting and full of rowdier children than promised. You wince slightly, ears ringing. You and Damian sigh already knowing that you were both going to be absolutely exhausted by the end of this. You turn to Jon, shoulder slumping, only to find him beaming as he watched the other kids run around. There were alot of days you envied Jon and this was one of them. Damian looks at Jon with utter disbelief. You shrug at him as he wrinkles his nose at both Jon and the hooligans running around. Your lip quirks into a scraggly smile fully understanding.

“This is going to be repulsive,” Damian hisses.

“Lighten up, Dami.”

“Nah, he’s gotta practice being dark and brooding, so when he gets to be the big bad bat he can do the whole brooding thing all-natural,” you joke, using your finger to mimic the ears of Batman’s cowl.

“Please, say that louder. I don’t think the supervillains heard you,” says Damian sarcastically, nose upturned.

Jon grins at you in a challenge. You raise a brow, crossing your arms. Your brain cell takes a vacation.

“HE’S GOTTA-” Damian clamps a hand on your mouth. You glare at him. His eye flicks to Jon who is sucking in a breath. Damian is throwing his other hand over Jon’s mouth when one of the counselors waves you over. All three of you blanch at the color of the shirt.

You all stand in an odd misshapen circle. Damian looks incredulously at the tacky camp T-shirt he’s been forced into while Jon does not contain his laughter. You joke about how a bowtie would definitely class it up which earns you a rude gesture that just makes you laugh harder.

“Alright kiddos, it’s time to introduce ourselves!”

Damian froze under the weight of their collective gazes, the hint of a smile on his face fading. Sometimes being around you and Jon made him forget. Well, not really forget. It was just easier not to think about it when you two were around. Damian feels himself shifting, realigning himself to 5’ 2” of cold arrogance.

It should have scared you just how easily the warm fondness on his face smoothed out giving way to this cold calculating face. It did on some level; on some level, the efficiency of Damian’s face muscles scared you. Sometimes you had to wonder if it was just him or if his brothers had the same knee-jerk reaction.

You roll your eyes as if nothing worrying had happened and bump your shoulder against his. A smile twitches on his lip and the ramrod shape of his spine curves a bit. Jon snickers, not trying too hard to hide it, which earns him the full force of Damian’s ire but you and Jon know all too well that Damian’s just being prickly. You step forward, shoulders broadening, nudging a glaring Damian behind you redirecting everyone’s stares towards you. It’s uncomfortable but you don’t mind. Damian huff behind you but doesn’t protest any more than that. You smile amicably or as amicably as you can. You need to remember the correct shape.

Introductions go off without a hitch.

Jon, like always, has no trouble stirring the crowd.

You make an impression when your introduction careens into a tangent about angelfish.

Behind you, Damian scoffs and crosses his arms over his chest. Contrary to popular belief, Damian did have a tendency to be nervous, especially around new people. This is compounded by the fact that Damian wasn’t really versed in dealing with people his own age which just put him on edge.

Thankfully, all three of you get sorted into the same cabin. The cabin is chaotic in a familiar, childish sort of way with pillows flying everywhere and kids jumping up and down their bed. Jon immediately jumps into the fray. Damian follows soon after Jon hits him with a pillow square in the face.

“Woman up and face me, Kent!”

You look up to the sky and smile in amusement. This is going to be an interesting summer.

The room is solid.

Your eyes incandescent in the darkness. The air crackles in anticipation of the storm.

A silver streak of lightning tears down through the heavens and crashes down into the lake.

A strange dislocation in the universe has emerged.

Your eyes shut.

Your ears pop.

You do not hear as something mangled rises from the water.

You wanted to say this was a horrible idea. Though, you’re not sure how to phrase that without implying they’re idiots. You’ve been hanging out with Damian too much. He’s starting to rub off on you and you’re mildly concerned.

You’d told them that the whole fight was your fault. Ok, not entirely. You simply told the kid off when he was making fun of Jon and you were not gonna stand for that. The kid shoved you, Damian 'accidentally' broke his nose, and the next thing you know is that you’ve been shoved into a random group of campers.It’s been a week but you still weren’t familiar with a lot of the people in the camp. The man with kind eyes said this would be good for you. You really would have preferred staying at the campgrounds, cleaning and doing whatever with the people in your cabin.

“Alright, kiddos, you guys can go swim while me and Jos go check something out in the woods.”

“Don’t do anything we wouldn’t!”

You sniff and bite your tongue, playing with the hem of your shirt.

"You sure they're gonna be ok?"

"What you think they're gonna disappear like Cat?"

Your ears perk up at this.

"Well, I mean-"

"She probably just ran off with one of the town boys."

This was probably the best time to bring up child endangerment protocols or the fact that you’re not even dressed for swimming. By the time you string the correct combination of words, they’re gone. You sigh and huddle yourself into a tree. It’s not like you’re dressed to swim anyway even if you wanted to.

You hug your knees as you flatten yourself against the tree, making sure your prosthetic limb is tucked beneath your normal one. You watch the others as they horse around looking like they’re really enjoying themselves. They probably didn’t realize you were there or did they even notice you join the group. Doesn’t matter really. Right now you would prefer to sit under the tree than risking your arm. Mr. Fox had explained that since it was still a prototype it was delicate.

“HEY!”

You jump. Your skin feeling very confined. You turn to the voice. Jesse, you think.

“Sorry. Could you- can you say that again?”

She rolls her eyes at you and you suddenly doubt the politeness of your speech but no you were pretty sure that was the correct way to say it.

“I said ‘can your arm go in the water?’.”

Oh.

“No?” You were half sure it couldn’t. You haven’t really tested it since it was easier to bathe without it. She gives you a skeptical look and yanks your arm towards her. You yelp. “Hey! What are you-” Your throat tightens when you find yourself at the dock. It’s shaky. The slightest shifting made it move.

You turn your heel mumbling an apology but your arm is yanked back. The grip is stronger now. You look back and see two people holding on to it. “Let go!” you say, trying to wrench yourself free. “It’s- it’s not a toy,” you add but they don’t budge.

“You’re being a baby!”

“C’mon (y/n)!”

“Let’s see how well robots can swim!”

You scream as they throw you into the water.

You thrash your limbs around, grasping for something, anything but all you can feel is the viscous emptiness deforming and reforming with every splash.

You cry out.

The water muffles your screams along with the distant sound of laughter and heckling.

Your mouth is filling with water.

Your lungs. Your lungs are burning.

Your chest aches.

You can’t breathe.

Help!

Please!

Someone!

It hurts.

Your vision is pulsing. The edges are going dark.

Your limbs are going numb and falling to pieces.

The world is sinking.

It’s so dark.

It’s too cold.

Why are you alone?

Where are they?

You don’t want to die like this.

You feel a large hand fish you out by the scruff of your shirt. It tosses you onto the shore; the force as you hit the ground knocks the air (water?) out of your lungs. You heave, gasping like a fish. A large silhouette hangs over you, cold dread licks up your spine but you note a lack of panic. Maybe it was the lack of oxygen.

Your vision comes back in pieces and by the time the world puzzles back together, you’re alone. You’re alone and shivering like a wet rat. You look around, brushing wet hair out of your eyes and you realize you’re not entirely sure of the way back. You curl in on yourself. It does nothing to warm you but you were desperate to feel whole and safe and ok.

You aren’t entirely sure how long it is before Jon and Damian find you or just how they managed it but you’re thankful when someone drapes a heavy towel over your head, muffling the scattered sounds around you. Shakily, you pull the towel over your face. It hides the tears well enough. Your loose hanging limbs tighten around you. You want to shrink, small enough to smooth over the trembling in your body. You know they’ve saved people from drowning before. They’ve saved people from far worse. Heck, they’ve been through far worse. You desperately don’t want them to think of you as weak, as less but here you were trembling. You’re unable to steady your own breathing. Frustration rises in the back of your throat. It is a welcome change from the nonstop medley of panic that’s been shoved on you.

A hand settles itself on your head, the movement stiff, light, and controlled. The pressure increases a touch when you don’t protest. Damian radiates awkwardness as he attempts to ruffle your still-damp hair. You smile up at him through damp hair. Damian simply grunts as he continues to avoid eye contact by staring out at the empty lake.

Jon plops down next to you kicking his feet out in front of him. He gives your space but he’s just close enough for you to lean against if you wanted to. On his shoulder was your ratty oversized hoodie. You tug at his sleeve to ask for it. He hands it to you. You slip it on, not caring that you were still soggy. The familiar, loose weight of fabric against your skin made you feel whole and safe and marginally ok.

Jon presses a hand onto your back mimicking the experimental way Damian had patted your damp hair. He listens to the steadying rhythm of your heart, his own easing back into a calmer rhythm. Damian raises a brow at him and he gives him a thumbs up. Damian’s shoulders loosen and Jon can’t help the snort that comes out of him. You look at him startled and Damian gives him the ol’ Damian glare which makes him laugh out loud. Your eyes flicker to Damian and then roll your eyes, crow's feet wrinkling in the corners of your eyes. You twist your mouth into a weird squiggly line in an attempt to smother a laugh in fear of incurring Damian’s wrath. Jon highly doubts you’d be able to. Damian was, in fact, a big old softie. Sure, he acts grumpy all the time but spending so much time with both Dick and Faust has made him pretty mushy by bat standards but Jon wouldn’t dare say that out loud, at least, not when Damian looked this close to throwing him into the water.

You spend a long time soaking up the quiet before heading back. Jon slings an arm around you but pulls it back when he hears your heart stutter. You pinch and tug at his sleeve and mumble an apology. You see Damian shoot Jon his version of the Pennyworth look.

“Sorry, (y/n).”

“‘S ok,” you rasp quietly.

You three walk along the shore towards the cap. You feel too tired to even blanch at the odd feeling of wet socks as you pad along the path. You walk in silence which is interrupted by a bird call here and there with either you or Jon occasionally asking Damian to translate. He does but for some reason some odd reason, they keep calling you idiot or imbeciles. You watch Damian’s eyes flick here and there. You know he feels it too. The odd feeling of being watched. The rustle of leaves echoes eerily in the stillness.

The counselors, mercifully, let you skip out on the rest of the afternoon’s activities. You curl up in your cabin, warm and very comfortable in the pool of fabric created by one of Mr. Kent’s hoodies which Jon ‘accidentally’ packed. You rolled your eyes at him but accepted it gratefully. You make a mental note to thank him with the mill house cookies you ‘accidentally’ bought at one of the rest stops.

You flip through the yellowing pages of the book in your hand. You aren’t quite sure how to describe how inappropriate it is to give a drowning victim a book on the complete works of H.P. Lovecraft. Then again, it was better than reading Moby Dick. Plus, you’re enjoying yourself trying to find a man who is about as stealthy as a Green Lantern. You’ll have to ask Damian or Jon. Damian’s more likely to have met a Green Lantern but he’s also more likely to give you a boring and entirely inaccurate answer.

You go back to the fish people. Do Atlanteans walk like that? Maybe. It feels odd somehow moving around without your prosthetic limb. Lighter but infinitely more unstable.

“Do you think they’ll find Cat?”

Your ears perk up. Your eyes flick to the window and you see two counselors leaning against another cabin. You shuffle awkwardly somehow moving the mass of cloth quietly. You squish against the wall making sure they can’t see you.

“Cat just ran off. You know how she is.”

“That’s what Raz said.”

“Yeah, where is he?”

“Who knows he’s probably just fucking around in the woods. Doing Bear Grylls shit or something.”

“Hope he comes back soon.”

“Do you really wanna deal with that horny jackass?”

“No but he’s the only decent cook. Do you really wanna taste what awful concoction Ratty has for us?”

Your stomach curdles remembering Ratty’s terrible improvisation of Doro Wat. Ratty said it was their grandmother’s recipe but you doubted it. Unlike the one Jason made for you one time, it was bland. It wasn’t even close to spicy. The vegetables were overcooked while the chicken was somehow undercooked. In short, you had nearly died twice since you got here.

“Nope. I’d rather starve. Isn’t their cooking like a human rights violation?”

Starvation would be a kinder death.

“Yeah. Anyway, I tried asking Jos. Apparently, Raz and a bunch of the other Lil shits have been fucking around in town.”

“Is that where Jackie disappeared to?”

“Probably.”

Ok, so the counselors have been dropping like flies and you have yet to notice. You should probably tell Damian and Jon. Something about this seems wrong.

“Are you ever gonna stop glaring at them?” you ask, plopping on to the log letting your empty sleeve hang loosely off to your side.

“Depends, have they apologized?”

“Ye-”

“Sincerely?”

“Well-”

“Then no.”

“Ok, but does Jon have to pout at them?”

“I’m not pouting!”

“Wait… That’s your glare?”

“Yeah?” Jons says furrowing his brow.

“Batcow’s given me better glares!”

“Again, (l/n) is right.”

“Thank you!”

“Dami, who’s side are you on?”

Damian’s lips curl into a cat-like smile, the kind you saw on Selina. “Justice.”

Jon throws his hands up defeated. You give Damian a low five as he settles beside you. Jon takes the seat on your other side still pouting.

"Do you kids know the rules to surviving a horror movie?"

The chattering dies down and you all fall silent, turning your full attention to the counselor. Your counselor lets out an absolutely delighted squeal, clapping their hands. You don’t miss the absolute dread on your other counselor’s face.

“Ok so, rule 1: Be a virgin-”

“Ratty!” Dawes, the counselor with dread on her face, squeaks elbowing Ratty, Ratchet. “Couldn’t you have worded it differently or you know, not at all?!” Ratty, the horror enthusiast counselor, rubs their arm and sticks their tongue out at Dawes who looks like she’s going to age ten years during this conversation.

If you thought Dawes was pale before, she nearly turns transparent with the next few words that leave your mouth. “What’s a virgin?” you blurt out. You desperately want to curl in on yourself. It wasn’t that you didn’t know. It was just your mouth runs faster than your mind. The kids around you snicker and one of the boys behind you claps you on the shoulder, laughing loudly. You lean on Damian, hiding behind him slightly. Damian shifts so he’s shielding you more.

Dawes sputters out her answer. It’s hard to understand. You watch the others searching for clues for an appropriate reaction.

“It’s a person who’s never had intercourse,” Damian deadpans and you nod quietly.

Dawes’ face lights up like a Christmas tree while Ratty’s twists into pure joy. Damian rolls his eyes as the other kids laugh even louder. It takes a moment but your cheeks heat up realizing the gap in your reaction must have given them the wrong idea. You pinch the bridge of your nose and you sigh. You see Jon snort at you and you stick your tongue out at him.

“See, Dawes, they know.”

“What about keeping them innocent?!”

“I’m not getting paid to do that,” Dawes drags her hand over her face as Ratty shrugs,” ’sides, this is life skills.” Dawes slaps Ratty on the shoulder again making them whine at the impact. “Ok. Ok. Fine. Fine. Jeez, you hit like a son of a- Oh wait, have any of you heard about Camp Blood?”

This gets you all to quiet down.

“Camp Blood? Isn’t that like a video game?”

“It’s like a local ghost story isn’t it?”

“Wasn’t that the one with the fish-”

“It’s not the fish people.”

“Let me tell the story!”

“Ratty, you never tell the story well. You keep making weird voices and you can’t even keep a straight face.”

“SLANDER,” Ratty shouts, throwing up their hands.

“Pffft, you also gonna tell us you can cook a 5-star meal?”

“Ok. Ok. Fine. I’ll just tell it to them straight.”

“What? As straight as Dawes?”

“Pffft, we’d go in circles.”

“Hey!”

“It’s true!”

“You don’t have to say it.”

“What’s the thing about Camp Blood?” Jon pipes, putting a hand over Damian’s mouth probably sensing the sharp remark he’s about to say. Damian licks his hand and Jon pulls away waving his hand like he’s been burned. You snort then blanch when Jon rubs the spit on to your hoodie.

“Gather round children-”

“Ratty, they’re in a circle get on with it.”

“I AM TRYING TO SET THE MOOD.”

“Jesus, ok. So, a looong time ago there was this kid named Jason Voorhes. When two counselors were fu- OW! Jeez, Dawes- Ow! Ok, fine. While two counselors were distracted, he drowned-”

“Sounds familiar,” snipes Damian. An apologetic look crosses Dawes’ face, a confused one on Ratty’s, and sheepish one on Jos’. You squeeze his and Jon’s shoulders.

Ratty shakes their head. “Anyway, they never find the body so his mom comes back and hacks the new counselors into pieces as some soft of demented justice for her kid.”

“That’s a bit of an overreaction,” Jos laughs awkwardly. The glares on them do not waver. You elbow Damian and kick Jon’s foot. Damian ignores you while Jon gives you a look of mock hurt. You roll your eyes at him and attempt to elbow Damian a second time. Again, nothing.

“The thing is one of the counselors actually manages to decapitate Mrs. Voorhees. She disappeared two months after though. Legend has it that Jason still roams the grounds of Camp Blood seeking revenge for his mother.”

The air is humming, thick with the roll of thunder and the premonition of a storm.

There is a dislocation in the universe.

Your ears pop.

You look at Jon who looks vaguely like his mother when she’s sniffed out a story. You look at Damian who is already sussing out every detail of the story. Your eyes meet and you all nod.

“It has to be someone using the urban legend as some sort of cover. Or! Or maybe they’re using the urban legend to mythologize their killings,” you say, through a mouth full of contraband chocolate chip cookies.

Damian snatches the package from you taking a piece.“(l/n), that’s ridiculous-”

“Yeah, we don’t even know if they’re dead yet,” Jon protests, snatching the bag from a scowling Damian.

“What are the odds they’re still alive?”

You all fall silent. “We assume they’re still alive until we see proof of the contrary,” Damian says firmly. You and Jon nod. The movement feels heavy.

“But what if the Jason ghost is a real thing?”

“Possible.”

“(l/n), don’t indulge him.”

“Jon is literally part alien,” you protest

“Jason has come back from the dead and Faust literally has moving tattoos,” Jon adds.

“YOUR DAD IS LITERALLY BEST FRIENDS WITH A 5000-YEAR-OLD AMAZONIAN AND A DUDE WHO CAN LIFT BUILDINGS.”

“Ok, fine but we should eliminate the more mundane explanations first,” Damian concedes accepting another cookie.

“I think we have. It’s too rapid and obvious to be a human trafficking operation.”

“We should find the counselors first.”

“Yeah, that’s a start.”

“Where should we start?”

“Abandoned cabins would be a good start,” you suggest trying not to perk up.

Damian glares at you and you wither. “(l/n), you’re not coming with us.”

“You say this like (y/n)’s gonna listen,” Jon laughs.

“ET has a point,” you say, grinning and opening another packet. You offer Jon the first cookie as thanks.

“Can’t I at least be a cool alien?”

“Nope.”

“Will you two focus?”

“Yeah. No.”

Damian pinches his nose. You completely understand why people think Damian makes a convincing fifty year old. “(l/n)...”

“Ok, fiiiine. I’ll stay out of it.”

“Don’t even think about sneaking out.”

You frown and nod.

You tiptoe through the brush, one metallic arm wrapped around you, the other hanging limply to your side flashlight clasped tight in your metallic hand. Camp Blood isn’t too far. You silently survey a few cabins finding nothing particularly interesting aside from cobwebs and potentially dead animals. The air is musty and decayed. You sniff and rub your nose as you walk through the camp guided only by strips of moonlight. If you were to run into a murderer now, you would only have your flashlight to defend you. You didn’t like those odds.

You’re a deer in headlights.

Dry mouth.

Skin going cold.

A scream burbling in the back of your throat.

The lumbering figure is coming closer.

You know he can see you.

Your feet are fused to the ground.

The light of the machete winking at you from a distance.

The world turns into a blur when your back hits the rotting wood of the abandoned cabin.

“What did I say about sneaking out?” Damian hisses, arm pressed on your neck. You blink. A flood of relief crowds your chest.

You sling your arms around him and he stiffens. You explain away the surprised little yelp as something animal and not something from your friend. “I didn’t sneak out. I went to the bathroom then I wandered off,” you mumble.

“How exactly is that different?”

“Less tiptoeing.”

"Funny."

"It is."

"Have you seen Kent?"

"Sadly no."

"Shit- Don't tell Grayson."

"The fact that you swore or the fact that you somehow lost Superman's kid"

He glares at you and you can't help but shrug.

"Both."

"Fair," you say, pausing for half a breath.”Did you find the hostages?”

Damian’s face falls then hardens then you know better than to ask him.

“We should find Jon,” Damian says finally. You flick your eyes and shake your head pushing down the urge to make fun of his slip. You’ll tell Jon later.

You two walk together, shoes in hand. It was easier. Maybe after this, you’ll ask Tim to teach you how to sneak around.

The sound of crashing wood fills the still night air. You and Damian freeze.

“JON.” Damian is the first to launch himself towards a cabin. You shamble behind him, plodding through the muddy earth as fat droplets of rain splashing down. You would have blanched at the squishing but all you could think about was Jon.

“Jon!”

“Dami! (y/n)!”

“Are you ok?”

“I’m in a hole. What do you think?”

You look him over as best you can in the dark. Damian seems to be having a better time. “You’re not in pain, so yeah.”

Jon huffs, shifting around in the pile of clothes. His nose wrinkles.“This jumper smells like something died in it," he says holding up a particularly old looking sweater. It's blotchy with various stains around the neck.

“Check for a pulse!” you shout, earning a sharp jab to the rib from Damian. You glare and rub your chest.

“Guys, I don’t wanna alarm you but I’m pretty sure there’s a decapitated head down here”

“I’m sorry, can you repeat that?” Damian asks incredulously. Your skin drains of all color and warmth.

“Do you want the good news or bad news?”

“That’s not-”

“Where in that pile of bloody clothes did you get good news?”

“Good news is he’s not here,” Jon says, eyes sweeping around.”Bad news, he’s actually real.”

“Stop messing around and get out of there, Kent!”

“Jon, come on! Fly or something!”

“My powers are going-” Jon jumps. But only manage to just fall back down. “I can’t fly.”

Damian groans. He pinches his nose and goes off to look for something to pull Jon up with.

“Why do you think your powers aren’t working?”

Jon shrugs. “Magic?” This place is cursed.

“We are dealing with a ghost,” you shrug back. You all freeze. The sound of distant footsteps making your heart race.

“Dami!” you hiss, over your shoulder.

“I can’t find anything!”

“Wait,” you say, unfastening your arm and reaching down to Jon. Damian grabs hold of it with both hands and you two start pulling Jon up.

The footsteps are getting louder, closer.

"Hurry!" you hiss quietly.

Your hearts are racing.

You pull, Jon getting closer.

He’s almost in arm’s reach.

The man is getting closer.

You can hear his breathing.

You pull Jon up, feet kicking. You wrestle him into a hug with one arm, making a little happy squeal into his hair low enough that only they can hear. Damian nudges you with your arm.

“Well that was scary,” Jon whispers into your shoulder. Damian smacks him upside the head. You laugh but cut yourself off when you see Damian stiffen. “RUN!”

You all scramble up and begin to dash away. You look back over your shoulder, machete winking at you, hockey mask visible in the dim light.

You stumble, feet getting tangled in roots. You yelp, bracing for impact and possibly dying. You feel arms scoop you up. You squeak. “No one gets left behind, soldier,” Jon says grinning.

“How are you still a goof when we’re about to die?” you laugh incredulously.

“He clearly gets it from his father.”

“ Pfffft, probably or maybe it's an alien thing.”

“Are you really gonna make fun of me, right now?” Jon protests, shouting over the rain.

“You two! This way!” Damian points to a small hole in the hillside.

“I’m too tall for that!” Damian glares.

You snort. “Just duck.” Jon scowls at you then sighed.

You all slide into a small crevice and hunched together.

“What’s the plan?”

“Jon, are your powers working?”

“Kind of?”

“Ok, that��s one thing we have going for us,” Damian hands you a phone. "You call while we distract him."

"Why do you have to distract him?"

"Ask him yourself, (l/n)."

Your eyes sweep up to the tall figure. Your mouth goes completely dry.

"Fuck."

Jason brings his machete down in a swift arc light. You grab Damian by the scruff of his shirt. The machete embeds itself into the wall, getting caught in the process. Your moment of relief doesn’t last long when Jason lunges for you. You scream as he catches your arm. With a soft click it detaches and you scramble away and out the hole into the pouring rain. He’s hot on your heels. You hear a loud thud. You look over your shoulder. Jon’s resting against the wall, head slumped. You see him throw Damian to the ground. You call 9-11 as you hurl your shoe at him. The dial tone is ringing. When you look up again, Jason is heading towards you. You stumble barefoot trying to get away. Predictably, you fall, foot catching on another tangle of roots.

“Hello? Hello? Is anyone out there?”

“Please help,” you whisper as Jason raises your arm to the sky. Your life flashes through like a film reel. Your breath is caught. Lightning flashes.

You watch the lightning cut through the heavens. The silver streak of light connecting might your arm and by extension Jason. The arm explodes. Shrapnel flies everywhere. Jason bursts into flames. The smell of burning flesh cutting through the air. You watch in open-mouthed horror as another bolt of lightning hits. He falls body fried to a crisp. You wretch the smell still strong.

"Kid! Kid! Are you ok?"

"No…" you gasp, bile lining the back of your throat, "please,hurry. We're at Camp Blood."

You’re cold and wet and forced to huddle into one blanket since the officer who responded only had one on hand. Damian is talking on the phone. It’s hard to make out amidst the pouring rain, so you settle in letting Jon rest his head on your shoulder as he drifts to sleep. The officer said the rest of the force is coming to collect the bodies. The camp is most likely gonna be shut down for the summer. You weren’t keen on spending the entire summer with your cousins.

“I’ve informed father that you’re staying with us for the rest of the summer.”

“Informed?” you laugh, relieved, ”good luck telling Jon that.”

You both eye him. Jon snores into your ear and you can’t help but smile. “He’ll be fine.”

Bonus

The map in Jon’s hands crinkles loudly as he shuffles through it trying to find the correct route. You know the route. You memorized it before you even set off. You did it instead of studying for finals. It was certainly more entertaining than studying for a US history final when you already knew it was just gonna be about the American Revolution, World War II, and probably the Vietnam war. You hold back the snicker threatening to spill from your lips when, with each crinkle of the Dollar Store map, Damian’s brow twitched. Yes, this was the purpose of the map. It was most certainly doing its job well.

“You think they’ll still have the same dumb camp activities?”

“You say this like you weren’t squealing to try all of them.”

“Was not!”

“Dunno, Jon, Dami has a pretty good memory.”

Your car rolls to a stop in front of a cross-section. You drum your fingers against the steering wheel before you let curiosity override your self-preservation.

“How did you convince Dami to come along?”

Jon tilts his head at you in question. “I didn’t,” he says slowly, “I thought you did.”

Your passenger goes deadly silent. You both twist your bodies to look at him. Jon gives him a knowing smile while you give him a reassuring one that says ‘it’s ok you can tell us’. Damian avoids all eye contact like the plague, glaring at the window like there’s a particularly interesting speck of dust on it.

His eyes narrow. And you have the odd urge to follow his gaze.

The trees shift.

The pressure in the car builds.

Jon’s laughter stalls.

A shape flickers in the distance.

Your ears pop.

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

a/n: THANKS FOR READING! Yes, reader has a prosthetic limb because I was reading 3 birds. Also, this can be treated as pre-slash. Epilogue is up for interpretation. Probably. Also fun fact, Faust is the basis for merc reader. I could not resist putting her in.

Tag list: @batarella, @anothertimdrakestan, @lucy-roo, @multifandomgirl-us, @idkmanicantenglish,@birdy-bat-writes, @boosyboo9206, @americasmarauders , @l-inkage, @arestorationofbalance , @cloudie-skay, @wunderstell @hyp-oh-critical

#damian wayne x reader #damian wayne x you #jon kent imagine #jon kent x reader #damian wayne imagine #batboys x reader #batfamily x reader

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a-blue-secret · 4 years ago

Text

CHAPTER XXIV

BACK TO MASTERLIST

Chapter XXIII | Chapter XXIV | Chapter XXV

GENRES: royal au; fantasy au; magic au; friends-to-enemies-to-lovers; king!beomgyu, vizier!taehyun

PAIRING: taegyu

WARNINGS: swearing

WORD COUNT: 4.8k+

SUMMARY: Best friends turned enemies, Kang Taehyun has managed to trick Choi Beomgyu into his service, and to rule for a year and a day, until his youngest brother would be old enough to take the throne. Choi Beomgyu has no intention of being obedient however, and tries to thwart Taehyun’s orders at every turn. With a growing amount of distrust and lies within the court, will Taehyun manage to keep the kingdom of Gojongja from falling apart?

In the days after that, Taehyun could feel that everything he did had a slightly sorrowful quality to it. He opened the curtains, smiling sadly even as the sun shone bright as anything. He secured the cufflinks in his sleeves, sighing down at them even though they were perfectly polished. He nodded his head to Jungwon as he left the room, but the action felt dejected. His days felt darker and sadder now, since he knew what was going to happen to Beomgyu.

It was strange. Taehyun didn’t think he was a mopey sort of person, and yet here he was, almost tearing up when he saw the familiar blue-and-silver Choi crest hanging from a wall. He didn’t know how to get rid of this feeling. Hell, he didn’t even exactly know what it was.

He just felt… hopeless. He knew what was going to happen to Beomgyu, now, and there was no way to stop it. And it hurt. He knew that he was doomed to watch as the person he loved turned into something unrecognisable. Taehyun felt powerless to do anything about it.

But despite how miserable he felt, he still had important things he needed to do, even if he didn’t want to do them. And so Taehyun went about his duties throughout the week, and if anyone noticed that he spoke in a decidedly mournful tone and walked around with strangely woeful steps, then they didn’t say anything about it.

.・゜-: ✧ :-　　

“Royal Physician Kim Seokjin is here to see you,” Jungwon said. Taehyun looked up dazedly, spinning a quill in his hand.

“Hm? Oh right, let him in,” Taehyun said. Jungwon immediately complied, and Seokjin stepped into the room, giving a bow to the vizier before sitting in the chair in front of Taehyun’s desk.

“You wanted to see me?” Seokjin said.

Taehyun blinked blankly at him, before quickly snapping back into the present, nodding his head. “Right, right. I did.” He scratched the back of his neck with his fingernails in the way he did when he was distracted or nervous, clearing his throat. “Um, could you maybe stop searching for someone willing to give the cure?”

Seokjin raised an eyebrow, confused. “Pardon?”

“Like, call off the search for the Aconitum cure. Stop it. Halt the mission. Drop the quest, whatever. Just don’t do it anymore. Can you do that?”

“I… I suppose I could,” Seokjin said, nodding his head slowly. “Alright. I can do that.”

Taehyun nodded, lips curving into an absent-minded smile. “Thank you.” He looked back down at the papers on his desk, shuffling them together, not paying attention to the fact that some of the documents were upside down. Seokjin noticed how distracted the vizier was, but decided not to comment on it.

“May I ask why?”

“Huh?”

“Why would you like me to stop searching for someone who is willing to give the Aconitum cure?” Seokjin clarified patiently, waiting as Taehyun gradually fazed back into the conversation.

“Oh. Because it’s… it’s pointless to pursue a cure anymore. That’s all.”

Seokjin frowned softly, a look of concern on his face. “It’s never too late, you know,” he said gently. “You shouldn’t lose hope.”

“No, no, it’s not that,” Taehyun said, giving a sigh. “I haven’t given up hope.” He paused. Well, he actually had given up hope, but not about the Aconitum cure. “It’s just…” He sighed again. “It’s complicated.”

The Physician gave a calm smile. “Every formidable poison or spell has a cure: something to reverse its effects. It’s out there, somewhere, and you should not lose hope in finding it. Sometimes it just takes the right amount of determination to find it.”

Taehyun looked up slowly, taking in Seokjin’s words. Seokjin smiled again, his eyes kind. Taehyun stared at the Physician for a few long moments.

“Giving up is the quickest and surest route to failing,” Seokjin said. “Giving up and losing hope are the worst things to do. But if you hang in there, and believe there can be a way out, anything is possible.”

Taehyun mouthed those words quietly to himself, still staring wide-eyed at Seokjin.

Anything is possible… Taehyun smiled sadly at the Physician, looking back down at the desk. He turned some of the documents the right way up, talking in a soft tone. “Perhaps in some scenarios, but not now. There’s very little I can do.”

Seokjin gave a small smile back, standing up. He bowed his head. “Very well. If you are adamant about calling off the search for the cure, then I shall abide by your wishes. I’ll see myself out.”

Taehyun nodded. “Have a nice day,” he said monotonously, his gaze unfocused as Seokjin left the room.

The door clicked shut, and Taehyun blinked rapidly. He gave a sigh, looking down at the parchments in his hands. He was filing away the documents when he paused, thinking about what Seokjin had said.

Every formidable poison or spell has a cure. If that was true… it wouldn’t hurt to find out whether Beomgyu’s curse had a cure, would it? Taehyun thought about it for a second, before standing up. Him . He might know the cure. But where could Taehyun find him?

.・゜-: ✧ :-　　

Strangely, Taehyun knew exactly where Soobin would be. He was in the Palace Gardens, reading peacefully on a bench between two bushes. Seeing the Lord stirred Taehyun out of his dampened, dull state, and his eyes sparked back into life with every step he took towards Soobin. Taehyun strode up to him and stood right in front of him, arms crossed.

“Tell me the cure.”

Soobin smiled softly down at his book, before snapping it shut to grin amiably up at Taehyun. “There is none.”

Taehyun blinked, taken aback by the abrupt response. “Nonsense. Every curse or poison or spell or whatever has a drawback. A cure which reverses the effects. Tell me it.”

“There isn’t any,” Soobin replied calmly, the pleasant smile still on his lips. His dimples deepened as he smiled wider. “All happenings of this curse have ended with a success for us. As far as we know, there is no way to ‘cure’ this curse, as you say.”

“Surely there is. I don’t believe you.”

“You can not believe me all you like, but it’s true. Even if there was a way to break the curse, do you really think I would tell you?”

“Well, yeah,” Taehyun said. “So that you can dangle the cure right in front of my nose, thinking that I won’t be able to get it. But then I’ll figure out a way to get the cure anyway, and laugh in your face.” He leaned down urgently. “Is it the flowers? The ones that you make? Are they the cure?”

Soobin chuckled. “Nice idea, but no. They’re just a hobby, inspired by my spy name. They have nothing to do with the curse.”

Taehyun glared, but before he could say anything Soobin suddenly stood up, his head colliding with Taehyun’s nose. The vizier jerked back, hand over his nose, as Soobin bowed, brown eyes alight with mirth.

“I’m afraid I have somewhere to be now,” Soobin said.

Taehyun hissed. “You could at least apologise for hitting me in the nose. Jerk.”

Soobin raised an eyebrow amusedly. “You didn’t apologise for the bruise on my jaw. Do you know how much concealer I had to put on to mask it?”

Taehyun couldn’t help the grin at that, though his eyes were still watering as he held onto his nose. “Served you right.”

Soobin simply smiled. “Well, I’ll be off now.”

And he walked away, book still on the bench. A Children’s Guide to Gojongja History, With Pictures , the title read. Taehyun glared down at the book, kicking it whilst muttering curses at its owner. The book bounced off the bench, pages fluttering open to land on a drawing… of a monster. The very same monster which Soobin had said Beomgyu would turn into. The drawing only made Taehyun angrier instead of sadder, and he swore loudly, stamping on the picture before storming off.

.・゜-: ✧ :-　　

Taehyun pushed open the ivy-covered door, before promptly walking over to sit down on the swing, swinging his feet like an angry child. His head was still swirling with furious, incoherent thoughts. But then, just as quick as his burst of energy had come, the anger drained out of him, and he leaned his head against the swing rope, sad and limp again. Taehyun rubbed his eyes, sighing. Oddly, he felt… lonely. He couldn’t bring himself to visit Beomgyu, not after he knew what was going to happen to him. He couldn’t visit the two Aruyeonans, because they were busy planning a heist or whatever. He had no one to talk to about how he felt. And while Taehyun was used to being alone, he found that he didn’t really like being lonely. But… while he may not have had a person to talk to, he realised he had something else.

He glanced around the garden, feeling much calmer in the presence of the garden. He slowed his breathing, relaxing his body, as he honed his senses into the nature around him. Gradually, he began to hear the buzz of chatter coming from all the plants, and the calm, comforting presence of the old elm tree.

“Tree?” Taehyun said unsurely. He heard the elm chuckle, and his face lit up into a smile.

‘Hello, Kang Taehyun. You made quite the entrance when you came in, I have to say.’

Taehyun gave a soft laugh. “Yeah, I was really mad about something.”

‘Would you like to talk about it?’

The elm spoke in a gentle, neutral voice, neither encouraging nor discouraging Taehyun to talk. It was nice to feel that someone was willing to hear him out, but also willing to just be there. So naturally, Taehyun told the tree everything.

‘Oh dear,’ the elm said, after Taehyun had finished talking. ‘I never would have thought that would happen.’

“You and me both,” Taehyun sighed, swinging his feet. “And I almost lost hope, you know. But I realised that it was foolish to lose hope, because that’s like giving up. And if I give up I’m admitting defeat to Soobin.” He clenched the ropes of the swing tight. “And there’s no way I’m admitting defeat to Soobin.”

He heard the elm give a proud laugh. ‘That’s my boy. Never admit defeat unless all hope is lost.’ The tree paused. ‘Though it does sound to me like your hope is very little.’

“I know,” the vizier said. “I’m sure there has to be some way to break the curse, but Soobin won’t tell me it.”

‘He could be telling the truth, however. There have only been five cases of such a beast, correct? And all five times, the beast was killed by the people of the Kingdom. So he won’t know the cure.’

Taehyun bit his lip. “That’s true,” he admitted. “That’s true.” He scratched the back of his neck distractedly. “Then that means the only way to not kill Beomgyu is to keep him alive as a monster. An insane monster.”

A heavy silence hung over the garden, with even the wind dying down to a hush at Taehyun’s words.

But eventually, the elm spoke again, in its gentle voice. ‘Let’s not think of such depressing things. Perhaps you will be able to communicate with him. In his monster form, would he be able to understand the predicament he’s in? Perhaps he would be able to tell you.’

Taehyun frowned, confused, before widening his eyes as he realised what the elm was saying. “I can communicate with other things as well?”

‘Well, yes. You can communicate with anything.’

“As in, everything everything?” Taehyun asked. “Like… I could communicate with the swing here?”

‘I suppose in theory, you could. I’m not sure what the swing would have to say, though.’

“But why did I talk to nature first then?” Taehyun asked. “I’m sure I’ve asked this question already, but why?”

‘Because of your closer connection with nature,’ the elm replied. ‘You are more in tune with the natural world, since you have the ability to manipulate it. The stronger your connection is with something, the more likely you are to be able to communicate with it.’

“Does that mean… does that mean I’ll be able to communicate with Beomgyu easily?” Taehyun said. “Because I have a strong relationship with him.”

‘Well, most likely. I have heard very little about the people of the Jeo clan, but I suppose that would count as a connection.’

Taehyun nodded. “Okay.” He swung his feet again, hands clutching the swing ropes. It was quiet but also busy in the garden, with the flowers chattering softly and the butterflies giggling with the wind. Taehyun felt himself relax, a soft smile on his face. He opened his hand, palm facing the sky, and a pink-tipped lotus flower unfurled its petals in his hand.

‘Lotus flowers, I see. You must be feeling at peace.’

Taehyun smiled at the flower, placing it on the ground where it shrivelled away. “Yeah, I guess I am.”

‘Have you visited Beomgyu at all, after you found out what was going to happen to him?’

“I…” Taehyun hesitated, and shook his head. “No. I can’t. It hurts too much.”

The elm was quiet. ‘I imagine it’s hurting him just as much, too. It has been three days, Taehyun. He must be feeling quite lonely.’

Taehyun bit his lip, then gave a sigh. He scratched the back of his neck absent-mindedly. He hadn’t thought about that. He didn’t want Beomgyu to feel lonely or hurt. “Oh… you’re right. If I were in his place, I’d feel lonely too. I’ll go see Beomgyu, then. I don’t want him to feel sad. Thank you for letting me talk to you, tree.”

Taehyun gave a small smile, waving at the tree before leaving the garden. The elm sighed fondly as the ivy door shut, Taehyun’s footsteps retreating from the secret garden.

‘No matter how old you get, you’re still my little Tyun. You’re welcome to talk to me at any time.’

.・゜-: ✧

“Beomie?” Taehyun said softly, peering into the room. “Hello, love.”

Beomgyu turned his head, giving Taehyun a sad smile. He pointed to his mouth, and then shook his head.

“Can you not speak?” Taehyun asked concernedly.

Beomgyu opened his mouth and, with some difficulty, forced out a few words. “Not very well.”

Taehyun nodded in understanding, coming to sit down on the chair by Beomgyu’s bed. “I’m sorry I haven’t come to see you these past few days. I had some things I needed to take care of in the court. Sorry it took me so long to come, love.”

Beomgyu just beamed at him, as if to say, ‘As long as you’re here now, that’s all that matters’ . Taehyun smiled back. Beomgyu’s grin both warmed him and hurt him at the same time. How many days did they have left, until Beomgyu turned? Would he ever get to see Beomgyu smile again? He may not even smile at Taehyun anymore. He might not even recognise Taehyun anymore. Taehyun’s smile wavered, but he kept it firmly in place, refusing to let it slip.

“Have you been okay, Beomgyu? Do you need anything?”

In answer, Beomgyu started wriggling around, trying to throw off the sheets.

Taehyun pushed the covers back down. “No, no, love, stay still. You’re too weak to move. You shouldn’t try to overexert yourself.”

Beomgyu pouted sadly, but sank back into the cushions.

“How has your day been, love?” Taehyun asked softly, holding onto one of Beomgyu’s hands. Beomgyu lifted his other hand, and made a thumbs-down sign.

“Bad,” he croaked.

Taehyun couldn’t help but smile at how adorable he looked. “Can I ask why?”

Beomgyu licked his lips, and opened his mouth several times to try and form words. “Because you weren’t here.”

Taehyun’s heart melted sadly at that. Being around this sick Beomgyu made him wonder whether the rabid Beomgyu would have been a better alternative. This tired, weak Beomgyu made him sad, because Beomgyu was rarely ever tired and weak.

He kissed the back of Beomgyu’s hand. “I’m sorry, love,” he said. “I wish I could be with you all the time, but this Kingdom isn’t going to run itself.”

Beomgyu sighed, and Taehyun sighed too. But then he plastered a smile on his face, trying to lighten the mood.

“Well, it seems that, since you can’t talk that well, I’m going to have to be the talkative one for now. Would you like to hear about how my day went?”

Beomgyu gave a small smile, appreciating Taehyun’s efforts to make everything seem brighter, and nodded. Taehyun immediately began to talk about what he’d been up to that day, detailing how easy it had been to talk to the new council, describing the absolute mess that was their ballroom while the cracked marble floor was being torn up and replaced with the new stone slabs, and recounting the strange story he’d heard from one of the palace servants.

By the end of it, his throat hurt from how long he’d been talking for, but Beomgyu’s happy smile made up for all of his pain.

Taehyun rubbed his thumb over the back of Beomgyu’s hand. “So that’s how my day went,” he said. “Pretty eventful, am I right?”

Beomgyu began to nod his head, before he suddenly wrenched his hand out of Taehyun’s covering his mouth as he coughed. Taehyun instantly handed him one of his cream handkerchiefs. Beomgyu coughed painfully for several more seconds, body heaving with the force of the action, before he wiped his mouth with a handkerchief, folding it up quickly. But Taehyun still managed to glimpse the dark stain of blood against the pale cloth, and he winced at the sight.

“Beomgyu… have your coughs gotten worse?” Taehyun asked softly, taking the handkerchief from Beomgyu and throwing it in the bin. Beomgyu nodded, looking even weaker after his coughing fit. Taehyun sat down, tracing his finger over Beomgyu’s palm. “Oh, love…” he sighed.

But then Beomgyu tried to wriggle out of the covers again and Taehyun immediately stood up.

“No, lie down,” Taehyun said, pushing Beomgyu back down onto the bed. “Why do you keep trying to get up, anyway? You know you’re unwell. No– lie down. Down.” He patted the covers firmly, tucking Beomgyu resolutely into place.

Beomgyu sighed, resting his head back onto the pillows. He swallowed several times, before letting out a hoarse croak. “I just feel like I need to move,” he managed to say. Taehyun frowned at that, sitting back down again beside Beomgyu.

“If you can barely talk, I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to move. Besides, you look awful. No offence, but you do. I don’t think that I’ll feel good about letting you get up.”

Truth be told, Beomgyu really did look terrible. In those past few days, he’d lost a scary amount of weight, since he hadn’t had any strength to eat. The dark purple around his eyes and lips had gotten even darker, and he could barely say a word without his voice scratching like sandpaper.

Beomgyu didn’t say anything, turning his head to look at Taehyun with sad eyes. It made Taehyun feel incredibly sad to see those eyes: while they weren’t cold, nor emotionless, they were tired, and in pain, and it hurt to see so much pain in the eyes of someone he loved.

“I wish I could kiss you better,” Taehyun murmured, bringing Beomgyu’s cold hand to his cheek. “But I don’t want you to lose your breath and suffocate.”

Beomgyu gave a weak laugh, croaking out a few words. “That won’t happen.”

The both of them knew that it was highly likely, though. With how weak Beomgyu’s respiratory system was, it wasn’t completely unheard of for him to suddenly start choking on air; they’d had to call the doctor on more than one occasion because of this.

Beomgyu continued to look at him sadly, but Taehyun managed to muster a small smile, placing a soft kiss to the corner of Beomgyu’s lips.

“You should probably rest. Look, the sun’s going down already. I’ll come back tomorrow, okay?”

Beomgyu nodded, sheets rustling as he did so. Taehyun rose from the chair, and Beomgyu’s eyes followed the action. He clung onto Taehyun’s hand, not wanting to let go just yet.

“I love you?”

The words were scratchy, but the emotions were gentle and soft. Taehyun smiled again: a genuine smile this time, replying to the question with his confirmation.

“I love you.”

Beomgyu tugged on his wrist weakly, and Taehyun leaned down obediently. Beomgyu strained forward, bringing his lips close to Taehyun’s ear.

In a soft, low voice, he whispered, “Thank you for loving me."

The words tickled his ear, sending a small thrill through Taehyun’s body: but not a good one. He sucked in a breath sharply, but managed to give a smile. Beomgyu smiled back, dropping his hand.

Taehyun left the room quickly and quietly, glancing back one last time at the King, who was already dozing off. Taehyun couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face, closing the door softly.

Out in the hallway, he nodded his head towards Jisung, before walking away, the smile fading from his lips. On the way back to his chambers, he stumbled on unsteady legs. He leaned against the wall, breathing shakily.

Those words had sounded like a goodbye.

.・゜-: ✧ :-　　

The next morning, Beomgyu awoke with the sun. As the sunlight began to filter through his open curtains, he stirred from his sleep. It took several more minutes for him to be able to force his eyes open, however, because of how weak his body felt. He hacked out a harsh cough, eyes watering a little. He gave a sigh, sinking down into his cushions.

Beomgyu looked around the room, squinting slightly at the sunlight. That day, he felt even more restless than usual. While the urge to get up was normally just a small, annoying feeling at the back of his mind, today it was impossible to ignore. With some difficulty, he managed to sit up in the bed. He peered over the edge of the bed, analysing how tricky it could be to get to the floor. Beomgyu gave a sigh. It was going to be incredibly hard.

As he tried to grab the sheets, his fingers would just weakly pat the cloth, unable to have any sort of grip. He gritted his teeth in annoyance, concentrating until he managed to pull off the covers. Once the covers were pulled off, his legs exposed to the air, he paused. Why was he doing this? If Taehyun found out, he’d probably be mad. No– he’d be sad, Beomgyu corrected himself. He’d seen Taehyun’s eyes become sadder and sadder the longer Beomgyu’s illness had gone on for. If Taehyun were to find out that he’d tried to leave his room, he’d be really, really sad.

And a sad Taehyun was, in Beomgyu’s opinion, worse than a mad Taehyun.

That thought was almost enough to get Beomgyu to stop. But the relentless urge to get out of the palace surged back in full force, and Beomgyu coughed again, doubling over from the strength of his cough. Once it died down, he wiped his eyes, and, in the slowest, most painstaking way ever, he swung his legs over the side of the bed. Maybe if he managed to walk, it would be a sign that he was getting better. Then Taehyun wouldn’t have to be sad, right?

Beomgyu smiled at that thought, and stood up onto his feet. Immediately, his knees buckled, and he crumpled to the floor. He sighed, cursing silently, rolling onto his back to stare at the ceiling. It looked like it would take him a long time to be able to stand up.

.・゜-: ✧ :-　　

“Yo Hueningkai, get your ass out of that metal room and come help me! Where does this ball go? Oh wait, that room is soundproof. He can’t hear me.” Yeonjun was muttering annoyedly to himself as he threw Hueningkai’s marbles haphazardly into the giant glass ball. Just then, the tapestry twitched, and Hueningkai emerged.

“Oh hey, you finally came out,” Yeonjun said, barely looking up from what he was doing. He paused, before cracking a small smile. “Well, you came out years ago, but anyway.”

Hueningkai raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “That’s like, your worst joke so far. And that’s saying something.”

“Come on, it was a great joke.” Yeonjun continued to pick up random possessions of theirs, throwing it into the seemingly bottomless glass ball.

“We’re not staying in Aruyeo forever, you know,” Hueningkai said, watching as Yeonjun dumped all of Hueningkai’s things into the giant ball. Yeonjun looked up.

“We’re not?”

“We have to come back here to deal with Wolfsbane,” Hueningkai said. “Also we need to help Taehyun.”

Yeonjun nodded. “Oh yeah, you’re right. Okay, then this should be enough.” He let Hueningkai put more things inside the ball, before lifting it up, holding it on his shoulder like a boulder. “You remember the plan, right?” he checked.

Hueningkai gave a laugh, rolling his eyes. “It isn’t much of a plan, but yeah.”

Yeonjun gave a lopsided grin. “It’s enough of a plan for us. Worst case scenario, we just storm in there and kill everyone in sight.”

“Yeah, let’s not do that,” Hueningkai said, smiling. He sat down on the bed, tracing the silk patterns. Yeonjun noticed his pensive expression and put down the ball, coming to sit down beside Hueningkai.

“Hey, Hyuka? What are you thinking about? You’re not thinking about the Kamal thing again, are you?”

Hueningkai bit his lip, not looking up at Yeonjun. “I just… it’s been ages since I’ve seen them. Maybe I should contact them.”

Yeonjun twisted his lips thoughtfully. “What, your sisters, Bahiyyih and Lea?”

“Yeah. I mean, I haven’t seen them in years, not since I escaped without them.” Hueningkai’s bottom lip quivered. “They were meant to run away to Aruyeo with me. They must hate me now.”

Yeonjun sighed, reaching forwards to get the younger to look at him. Hueningkai reluctantly looked up, eyes brimming with tears. “Hueningkai, listen. Your sisters love you very, very much. I don’t think they’d hate you. They just want you to live a good life.”

“But they were meant to come with me. I left without them.”

“That wasn’t your fault, though,” Yeonjun said firmly, holding onto Hueningkai’s shoulders. “Look. They encouraged you to go. That’s what you told me, right? We’ve been over this. You don’t need to feel guilty. They won’t hate you. Come on, Hyuka. Breathe with me. In, out. And again. In, out. There we go.”

Hueningkai breathed shakily, rubbing his eyes.

“Is that better now?” Yeonjun asked.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine now.”

Yeonjun nodded, satisfied, picking up the giant ball again. “Is that why you were so eager to get rid of your surname? Because of them?”

Hueningkai nodded his head. “Yeah.”

“You know there’s no way they could hate you, right?” Yeonjun said. He grinned, trying to lighten the mood. “You’re too damn cute.” He reached over and ruffled Hueningkai’s hair, the younger spy ducking away, a smile on his face. “Anyway, come on. Let’s go tell Taehyun we’re leaving.”

Yeonjun stood up. “I’m just hoping there is some time left before Beomgyu turns. Then we can get this done quickly, then come back to help Taehyun.” He picked up one of the empty marble balls laying on the desk, about the size of a football. He held it in his hands, subconsciously tapping his fingers against the glass.

“Yep,” Hueningkai said, also standing up.

Yeonjun absent-mindedly stared out of the window as Hueningkai put on his boots, not not paying attention to what was going on outside. But then he noticed it: the dark figure running through the fields. A large, dark figure. A figure which looked distinctly like…

The empty glass ball fell from Yeonjun’s grip, shattering on the floor. Hueningkai screamed, but Yeonjun didn’t even look at the mess of glass, still staring out of the window in shock.

“Fuck…” he said, voice barely a whisper. His eyes were still fixed on the window as he began to slowly edge his way towards the door, before picking up speed, wrenching open the door. Get to Taehyun… He needed to get to Taehyun…

“Wait, Yeonjun, where are you going?” Hueningkai called, trying to pick his way through the broken glass. But Yeonjun had already left, sprinting through the hallways to find Taehyun as soon as possible, their bedroom door still swinging on its hinges.

.・゜-: ✧ :-　

Taehyun looked up, curious at the frantic banging on his office door. The banging became more fervent, and he stood up.

“Alright, alright, calm down. I’m coming.”

He opened it to see a stressed Yeonjun on the other side, his eyes wide with panic and fear. He was breathing heavily, like he’d run down the whole two flights of stairs to Taehyun’s office. He was wearing his heavy overcoat, but his feet were bare. It was obvious he’d come in a hurry.

“Taehyun…” Yeonjun panted, out of breath. “Beomgyu…”

From just the name, Taehyun turned sick with dread. He knew what Yeonjun was about to say.

“I saw him. Taehyun, Beomgyu’s turned.”

taglist: @my-moarmy-heart @arohabangtan @a-fragmented-world

#court of lies #txt #txt taegyu #taegyu #txt taehyun #taehyun #txt beomgyu #beomgyu #txt fanfic #txt angst #txt fluff #txt imagine #txt imagines #tomorrow by together #tomorrow x together

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obi-wan-kanbonemi · 5 years ago

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Say It

Darth Maul x Reader

Summary: You run into Darth Maul years after him showing mercy to you amidst being caught between the battle of him and a crime syndicate while trying to collect a bounty. The question is though, will he be as merciful as before? Gender neutral except for the term ‘lady in waiting’ but that can be ignored.

Warnings: Just some dark, angsty, kind of flirty stuff???? I don’t know, but I do know I was jamming to some sad, angry, and emotional Star Wars songs to get myself in the mood, so thanks Spotify lol

A quote from my favorite movie is hidden away somewhere in here lol

Word count: 1,854

———————————————————————

So much pain radiated from your chest, your sides pinching and burning with a stabbing sensation. You couldn’t stop now, not with the fear that pelted your body and the adrenaline rushing through you. Your legs continued their sprinting, trying to get your breaths in and out of your body as you zipped past trees, dodging anything that was in your path. Blasters shot past you as well or blasting the ground where you had just stepped upon, enticing you to further run away from what felt like your doom, the end drawing ever so near as you looked to the group you were with. You watched them trip or get hit, one by one.

The tears had begun to stream down your face, your cries threatening to make you pass out from the lack of breath within your lungs. You were in over your head on this one. You had taken a bounty, someone wanted a crime lord dead and you needed the money, but someone else was also after either the crime syndicate they had running or had foreseen the value of taking them down would bring which ended out in a full scale battle and you and your crew were stuck in between. It was just you now though, the bodies of your crew left behind on the forest floor that they had once tried to run upon to escape the blasters.

Your heart dropped to the very depths of your stomach as your foot had come to a painful halt upon a tree root that stretched out across the dense, forest floor. It sent you smashing onto the ground, hands being scuffed up and clothes being stained from the grass you had slid upon. Shoe now long gone in the crevice of the tree root, you twisted yourself to your back, beginning to crawl in vain away from the armored goons of the crime syndicate, your sobs wracking your body as you raised your hands in mercy as they surrounded you, blasters aimed at you.

“You! Execute them, we have no time for this, we got that crazy Zabrak on our backs!” Shouted out one of them, causing you to further sink to the ground in dispair. This was the end for you which you never would have thought would be you scuffed up and covered in grass stains and sobbing in front of a crime syndicate. How embarrassing. Though the yells, screeches, and the last gurgles of dying men reached your ears as your eyes were closed tightly in anticipation for your final seconds. Upon your eyes being opened, you saw the Zabrak man they were all wary about slaying them like a Jedi would to a whole army of droids. He even had one of those laser swords.

You took this as your only hope as you got up, other shoe being ditched behind to now run full speed on the route you were once running on to an unknown destination. With the fear that had resonated in the goons that had spoken of the Zabrak, you did NOT want to be caught by him either. Though you could hear his growl echo through the forestry around you as you halted, body frozen in fear as you now whipped around to look around you. The forest was now quiet....the sound of blasters and yells now in the far distance behind you.

You cursed yourself for having stopped and continued forward, but came to a halt at the sight before you. The double ended, red laser sword now ignited in the hands of the crimson, tattooed Zabrak whose yellow eyes stared at you with such an intensity it made the air in your lungs totally disappear. Stupidly you snatched a rock from the ground below you, throwing it at him with all your might, but his weapon cut through it with such ease. The sight brought despair to you as you turned to try and run again, but he was soon there too. He was every which way you turned.

You were captured...everything was over.

“There’s nowhere to run, love...” his voice seemed to rumble throughout the forest, throughout your mind. That voice brought your heart back to cower in the pit of your stomach once more as you stood shaking before him. The end was finally here to take your in it’s embrace as you coward before the truly terrifying man before you.

“Please....have mercy...” your shaky voice was barely above a whisper, your feet taking their small steps back to try to distance your from him, but those strong legs of his only carried his powerful being close to you. He seemed to relish in your fear, taking pleasure from your cowering form before him. His steps stopped though, head moving to look off to the side, as if someone was speaking to him. The Zabrak’s laser sword was now back to his hip, leaving him to stand before you.

“Oh...mercy is what I have shown you now, but remember, it may not be the same if we cross paths ever again.” His low voice almost growled out as you turned away, disappearing back the way you were just running from, leaving you to fall to your knees, heart pounding within your chest.

Years had flown by and you found yourself drifting from planet to planet, system to system in the search for whatever odd job would buy you a few weeks to rest comfortably without worrying if you would be able to sleep under a roof or even have anything to eat. Though upon disembarking a craft in Mandalore you seemed to finally have caught yourself a break from the constant move from place to place as you landed a position of being Duchess Satine’s lady in waiting, or something of the sort. It was all too good to be true though, you realized, once Mandalore was under attack by crime syndicates. Though many things were wrong...and strange. Things weren’t making sense. Your gut had been correct when you were thrown in a cell, left there to rot.

Why was it you were always so unlucky? You sighed as you paced your cell, waiting for your fate to be revealed. And it was. Your ears were filled with an all too familiar growl. Your body froze as the memory of that crimson Zabrak with the intricate black tattoos filled your mind. Upon slowly turning to the door...you saw him. Those yellow, bloodshot eyes stared at you quizzically, hands held behind his back. It seemed to have finally clicked as he studied you, seeming to now remember.

“Oh....now isn’t this just delightful...,” he spoke with a smirk upon his face. The cell door opened, further revealing him clearly to you, showing you the mechanics that now made up the lower half of his body. “I knew I felt a presence all too familiar on this planet, my my, it’s been years since the last I saw you, my sweet,” you hung your head at his words that teased you, body shaking in fear as you caught sight of the handle of the, now known to you, lightsaber that hung at his hip. You knew he could slice your head off at any second, or to just make you suffer at his hands.

“Oh no, love, there won’t be any torturing....” he spoke with amusement as he circled around you, shock filling you as he seemingly read your mind. His hand reached out to give your hair a careless twist, causing a shiver to wreck your body as you closed your eyes in anticipation. “You can say that I’m.....a bit of a different man the last you saw of me...,” he said with a sigh as his hands rubbed at his chin in thought as he stood behind you. “I can show you the mercy that your whole being desires of me....be it as I am your new ruler, sadly others didn’t receive it,” the back of his fingers gently trailed down the side of your cheek, soon moving to toss your hair over your shoulder with a tut of his tongue as he looked you over.

Finally you gained the confidence to look at him with your wide, fear filled eyes upon the reveal of him being the new leader of Mandalore. Though you quickly looked back to the floor, the fear so heavy within your body as he drew himself closer to you, one of his arms draped over your shoulder, a hand reassuringly on your shoulder closest to him as he pulled you close, almost in front of him to allow his lips to hover next to your ear.

“I just have one request...” he hummed out into your ear, eyes looking down at you. You could basically feel those eyes of his boring into you and through your body. You did not give him a response, only standing there in the thickness of fear, but he took that as his permission to continue on with his words. “Profess your service and loyalty to me...and I might just show you the mercy that you want. Do as I say and I will be your slave. A slave to your needs, wishes....desires.” He whispered out.

He now stood before you, so tall and powerful before you as those eyes bore into your bowed head. What other choice did you have as you stood before the powerful man before you? You weren’t ready to die, you didn’t want to die at the menacing blade of his light saber. You didn’t want to be tortured at his ruthless hands.

“I...shall forever be loyal to you...” you finally whispered out, though he shook his head at your response, a seemingly playful pout upon his lips.

“No....that simply won’t do....I want you to say it differently....say ‘I shall forever be yours....a loyal follower to you, Darth Maul....’, I want to hear it...,” he now whispered into your ear, his hand tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. His breath sent shivers down your neck and tickled your ear. An embarrassed blush crept upon those cheeks of yours as his hands delicately took your chin to move your head to finally look up and at him, those terrifying eyes boring into yours. “Say.....it...” he growled out, those fingers applying more pressure to your chin as he waited for those sweet words to flow from your lips.

“I shall forever be yours, a loyal follower to you......Darth Maul,” you finally managed out in a fearful quiver, a smirk growing upon the face of Maul before you who finally released your chin, allowing you to finally look away again.

“That’s right...and I will not disappoint, my sweet....” he almost purred our, stepping out the cell, leaving the door open behind him, but instead of moving to your new found freedom...you sunk to your knees instead, eyes watching his metal legs carry himself away from you, chuckle and a purr echoing in the walls of your head.

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achilleid · 4 years ago

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EXIT WOUNDS (CYBERPUNK 2077) Ch. 2

Pairing: Takemura Goro x (female) V Rating: Mature Summary: When his plans for revenge fail, V and Takemura are left right where they once started. A dying thief and a disgraced soldier, with as much in common as they lack and an improbable bond that holds them to one another. Notes: Post-Canon, Nomad ending. Spoilers for post-game! Read on AO3 Read Ch. 1

The first awareness was that of light. Warm and bright behind his lids. The second awareness was ache. Persistent, painful and sharpened to a razor’s edge at every small movement.

Takemura begrudgingly accepted consciousness, finding the will somewhere inside him to open his eyes and look towards where the offending ray of sunshine was being allowed in.

The tent flap was being held open, just a sliver, and a pair of soft brown eyes, large and doe like in the middle of a tan-skinned face stared at him with interest. She had full round cheeks, youthfulness in every aspect of her cherub like features. The child froze as their eyes met, but slowly she smiled, a dimple in each corner of her mouth.

It was the height of spring, when the cherry blossoms were in full bloom and their petals scattered over the still pond in the gardens of the estate. Small pink ships, sailing endlessly on the vast sea.

Takemura was twenty-nine, three years dedicated already as an elite Arasaka soldier and known for his discipline, his dutifulness and his loyalty. When he did not pace the nearby halls, or stand at attention near Saburo-sama’s side, he was allowed to sit kneeled on a small mat on the wooden floor. His hand would remain on one hip, poised over his katana and another over his gun, his eyes sharp and his cyberware readings keenly attuned to every person who may move within the family halls.

It should have been a point of great shame for him then, that the tiny stumble of socked feet did not catch his attention until he found before him a small girl, her cherub cheeks puffed with a smile. She held up a drawing, or rather, scribbles upon paper in varying shades of black and red and tanned peach, all forming together to make a familiar silhouette.

“Taka-san, I drew you!”

In his duty, Takemeru was not to engage with others. He was meant to be as the room, as furniture or a tool left out. A knife on a table. What he was not meant to do, was speak to Saburo-sama’s three year old daughter. She was Saburo-sama’s joy, his greatest treasure, a child he doted on and who went everywhere at her father’s side.

Takemura looked to him now, for guidance, he told himself, but the look he gave Saburo-sama was more aligned with pleading.

“My daughter has presented you with a gift, Takameru. Be polite.” his master said without another glance, turning his attention back to his tablet.

Hanako waited patiently, expectantly. Takemeru found it difficult to even bring the words forth, his tongue sluggish and thick from so long hardly speaking much at all.

“Thank you, Hanako-sama. It is… lovely.”

She beamed, her smile drawing wider until a tiny dimple dotted high on her cheek. With insistence, she held it out for him and with equal amounts of hesitation, Takemeru took his hand from his blade and slipped the paper from her hands.

A voice called out a name, the sound hazy and muted on Takemeru’s ears. The girl turned, answering the call without looking back, leaving only the sway of dropped tent flap to ever prove she was there at all.

Takemeru let his eyes drift back closed, trying to recall the lines, the colors of the drawing. He had kept it, folded and safe beneath his armored vest for several days… but where did it go? What had he done with it after? It had been eighteen years since the blossoms and yet the few months he had spent alone, masterless and exiled, felt so much longer.

The tent opened again and Takemura groaned when the light flashed into his pupils.

“Morning.” a voice spoke, the man who had sewn up his shoulder and his side coming to sit near the cot Takemura was still shackled too. The man, too his wisdom, kept a good distance between them still.

“Is the pain bad? We scrounged up some MaxDoc to help take the edge off if you’re needin’ some.”

Takemura did not reply.

“Also need to change your IV. Sometimes the old ways are the best ways when it comes to saline and good ole H2O…. unless you’re feeling up to drinking some water?”

Water. The very word drew Takemura’s attention to how dry his throat was, how paperlike his tongue felt against the roof of his mouth. Water. His body pleaded to his mind. Water.

Takemura nodded, short and curt.

“Great. Hold on— “

Takemura watched the man as he moved around the tent, doing a good job still of keeping out of arm's reach. As his eyes traced his movements, he noted a change to the room.

There was a second cot set up at his other side.

In the second cot, was V.

Takemura felt a snarl build up near his teeth, a look of disgust and outrage ready to mar his features… until his eyes caught up with his emotions.

V looked terrible. Worse than terrible. Her skin had an unhealthy pallor to it, greyish and clammy. Her breaths were short and slow, as if her own lungs were too tired to make more of an effort. Some strange band was attached around her head, monitors fixed to her temples as a nearby computer beeped and monitored large spikes and numbers that made no sense to Takemura.

The doctor caught him staring as he returned with a cup of water. Takemura sat up as best he could manage, unsurprised when the doctor called in another to stand guard with a gun in their hand while he held the cup for Takemura to drink from. He was not to be unrestrained it would seem, though his prey lay but a scant few feet away.

“Another seizure. Hit her hard. Been out as long as you now, but… well. We’ll see what happens.”

Takemura frowned, “‘What happens’?”

He cursed himself for speaking, but the words were out before he could catch himself.

“If she wakes up. Every time it seems she has one it takes longer and longer… one day I figure she just won’t.”

V had succeeded in removing the relic, had rid herself of her demon and in doing so had thought to free herself from impending doom… and it had all been for nothing. Saburo was dead. Hanako was dead… and V was still going to die.

Takemura refused food when offered and drank only a little, the pain of his wounds a welcome distraction for the turmoil in his chest.

He never would have thought nomads would have such tech available to them, but in the large tent there was enough equipment and cases to fill a small clinic. This man is what Takemura could only imagine was their version of a ripperdoc, but he didn’t have to worry about the man trying to invoke his sympathies towards V for long. A young woman entered the tent and the ripperdoc gave her a respectful nod.

“She good, Tom?” the woman asked and Tom nodded, “Okay. Take a breather.”

She shrugged toward the tent entrance. Tom frowned, but he didn’t argue, getting up and exiting the tent and offering Takemura a quick view of the guards outside. They were still present. Not a good tactical advantage.

The woman set her fists on her hips, eyes narrowed as she scrutinized him with dark brown eyes. She has no visible cyberware to speak of, but it was common for Nomads to reject enhancement, at least in his limited experience.

Takemura, despite his feelings, spoke politely enough.

“I am Takemura Goro. If V has not already informed you.”

The woman looked a bit taken back by his easy words, but after a moment that surprise resumed an expression of suspicion.

“She did. Now you wanna tell me how you found us? And who else knows where we are?”

Takemura frowned, “It is considered extremely rude not to introduce oneself. Even to enemies.”

The woman’s face flushed red down to her neck and her teeth set against the inside of her cheek. She had a short-temper, but also a position of authority and respect given how the ripperdoc had so easily relented to her requests. She was a leader, but a potentially weak one, Takemura set that information aside for later.

“You attack my people and you wanna school me on manners, Corpo?”

“...You have someone I want.” Takemura stated, a simple reasoning for why the young Nomads he encountered were threatened.

“Too god damn bad. Now who else knows where we are?”

Takemura fell silent again, a sigh held back in his throat. V stirred slightly on the cot nearby, drawing both of their attention to the other woman as she flinched and jerked slightly in sleep. The monitors sped for only a moment and then slowed again, whatever neurological event passing quickly.

The Nomad woman’s expression had broken apart quickly from one of stubbornness and annoyance to worry… colored with affection and familial concern. She cared for V. She cared for V very strongly. That would complicate any attempts of persuasion or negotiation, but then again, Takemura had not considered those to be strong tactics to begin with.

The woman looked down at her boots and then, curtly spoke, “I’m Panam Palmer.”

“It is good to meet you, Palmer-san.” Takemeru said, but his words were filled with polite detachment that would make it quite evident even to Panam that they were simply a platitude.

“How did you find us?”

“Simple reconnaissance. I visited towns. Spoke to people. It was difficult for several weeks, but then…” Takemura paused.

“Then?”

“You and your people became lazy.”

Panam sucked in her cheek again, but controlled her emotions.

“Are there others coming?”

“No.”

“Wow… I mean, wow. Didn’t expect you to just offer that one up.”

“I have no reason to lie. My purpose is simple. You and your people are responsible for the death of one I held in utmost regard and respect. I am duty bound to end the life of the one who commanded it.”

Silence followed the end of his words, the steady beeping of the monitor filling the room. Suddenly then, Panam scoffed out a laugh and Takemura jerked his head up to glare at the young woman, forgetting himself.

“Jesus christ… you Corpo’s are really crazy, you know that? You’re ‘duty bound’? By who? You aren’t Arasaka. You aren’t anything. You come here and try to kill my sister because of some deluded belief you owe a buncha criminals and psychopaths? Who don’t want you?”

With each word her volume increased, the look of revulsion so prominent on her features that even if she had chosen not to mince her words, her distaste would have been clear. Negotiation it would seem, was not a viable option.

Takemura felt her words, but only in that they stoked a growing tension edging through his limbs and fueled a gnawing want to snap this crude woman’s neck. He let his anger stream out from his chest and into his hands, clenching them a bit tighter to try and relieve some of the pressure his growing anger exuded.

“This is what is gonna happen,” Panam began, her voice having grown colder, “We’re gonna dump you out on the sand with a quart of motor oil and a pistol and take bets on whether you shoot yourself before or after the thirst makes you crazy enough to drink it.”

The image was certainly— vivid. The sadism of such a statement catching Takemura slightly off guard.

“Wow. ” said a voice instantly recognized by both of them as V’s , “I mean, that is one stone cold line. I think I’ll steal that.”

---

“Shit, V— you need me to get Tom?” Panam had all but forgotten about Takemura, moving around to V’s cot to try and prevent the other woman from getting up.

“No.”

Yes. An indignant Johnny-Silverhand-induced auditory hallucination said quietly in the back of her mind. Maybe one day she’d get lucky and forget what the guy sounded like, then her head-voice would go back to just being her voice.

More importantly, she was nauseated as all fucking get out and Panam’s hand on her arm was doing a great job of making V feel a bit more grounded. She heard a faint click, the sound of someone chidingly clicking their tongue against their teeth and looked up to see Takemura had turned from them both, staring pointedly at nothing. But it was nothing away from V.

“No execution by desert, aight?” V said, lulling her head back towards Panam.

“Sure. Fine. Execution by bullet works just as well.” Panam said, shooting Takemura a dirty look that went unnoticed.

“Talkabout it later.” V said, only slightly slurring her words as she pulled the band off her head and peeled the monitors off a moment later. The computer made an alarming noise and V had a funny feeling it was becoming quickly overcrowded and overly loud for the former Arasaka bodyguard.

“Got an idea to make everyone happy.��

Takemura’s interest had been piqued. V caught him casting a look out of the corner of his eye at her.

---

What the fuck, V. Panam's voice still rang in her head, rolling around in her ears and in her skull and fueling an oncoming headache. For once, the voice didn't sound like Johnny though and maybe that was a good sign.

Of course Panam would hate the plan. But in the end, it wasn’t her choice. It wasn’t her life and although it had gone over about as well as V expected, for now, things were set. When she came back inside the tent, Tom had provided Takemura with an old t-shirt, the design on the front so faded it was barely more than a static of print.

His hair was down, which shrouded the grey near his temples and made him look somehow… younger. Less stiff. The look in his eyes though had not changed. Steel resolve and hardened granite. He had built a wall between them and V could hardly blame him for it… in the end, she hadn’t kept her end of the deal. But then again, she was still right where she was at the start. Sick, dying and Arasaka’s most wanted. So he could hardly say he kept up his either.

“Option one,” she began, “I’m dying. So honestly, killin’ me at this juncture would be a relief from what I got coming for me. It’s gonna be slow. It’s gonna be awful. I’m offering you front row seats to watchin’ my body slowly eat itself alive.”

Takemura’s eyes narrowed.

“I know what you’re thinkin’. ‘But you’re lookin’ for a cure’. We are. Which brings me to option two. We let you stick around while we look. If we find one and I get fixed up? You get your pistols at dawn or whatever. Get the satisfaction of knowing you got to kill me when I’m not already dead. Hell, not gonna lie. You killin' me after all this bullshit and then after I save my life too? That would be... well, I’ll give you a genuine fight for my life. If that’s what you want.”

V shrugged, “And you’ve already heard option three.”

“These options require me staying with this caravan for an unknown amount of time.”

“Six months, actually. Or five rather. So yeah. Five month wait..”

“How do I know they will not kill me before either of these things happen?”

V grinned.

“I asked them nicely.”

“Why?”

Her smile faltered.

“Why not pick option three for yourself?” Takemura said, offering the most practical and simple solution. The one she was sure right now, if they were in reverse situations, he would take.

It was a good damn question too. And V was certain she had a good damn answer half a second ago, but now with Takemura staring at her, grey eyes shrewd and with just a flicker of uncertainty… shit, seeing him at all… it made the words sound so ridiculous.

“I told you I didn’t mean for what happened to happen. I owe you, for a lot and this is the only way it’ll… sit right. For us both, I think. You don’t seem the type that would get much satisfaction outta killing me how I am now.”

V laughed, a nervous bubble of sound as she turned her eyes away and picked at a frayed thread on the knee of her pants.

“Also...guess cause we were friends once I feel like I should give you some closure. Not somethin’ I’ve gotten much in life, but welp. Here is my chance to give some.”

“...You wish to die with some honor restored.” Takemura’s voice for once held no trace of disgust, no edge of hatred. His voice was quiet, resigned. Understanding. It was not a tone V had ever thought to hear again from the man.

“Yeah, sure... if you’ll let me.”

Neither of them met each other's eyes. Two people, staring holes into opposite sides of a tent, as if refusing to acknowledge one another would somehow make them feel less.

“It is two options, not three.”

V looked up at the remark.

“Option one is, remain to witness your death or be the cause of it should you recover. Option two is motor oil and pistol.”

V held back a smile just barely. How could someone remain this pedantic even when discussing such a morbid topic?

“I accept option one.” Takemura met her eyes, only briefly, “I am patient man. I can wait.”

“Plus it gives you time to actually heal and then say fuck it and off me in my sleep or something.”

Takemura wrinkled his nose, “I could ‘off’ you now if you’d like.”

He pulled up his arm, revealing that at some time during all this chatting and debating he had gotten out of one of the cuffs.

Takemura casually used his other hand to put his thumb back in its socket, finding it impossible to miss how V did a full body shudder at the sound.

“Hard pass.” she said, still cringing.

“I will honor my word,” Takemura said, easily making work of the other handcuff and tossing it aside. He flexed his fingers, bringing them up to begin pulling his hair out of his face. V, for some reason, felt compelled to avert her gaze. It felt weirdly intimate, like she was watching him undress. Takemura brushed his fingertips over his wrist, frowning to himself before letting his hair go, falling back around his shoulders.

“You need a scrunchie?” V asked, unable to stop the small smile from forming at the corner of her mouth. What could she say? Johnny had tried to kill her once and she forgave him. Her standards were never exactly high. And a part of her, a small hopeful part of her thought maybe there was still time to make something right before she died.

Wrong city for happy endings. Her inner voice chided in Johnny's flat tone. But they weren't in Night City anymore.

#cp 2077 #cp 2077 v #cp2077 fanfic #cp 2077 takemura x v #takemura x v #cyberpunk 2077 #cyberpunk 2077 fanfic #cyberpunk 2077 fanfiction #cp2077 fanfiction

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monstersdownthepath · 5 years ago

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Spiritual Spotlight: Groetus, God of the End Times

Chaotic Neutral God of Oblivion, Empty Places, and Ruins

Domains: Chaos, Darkness, Destruction, Madness, Void Subdomains: Catastrophe, Entropy, Insanity, Loss, Night, Stars, Truth

Inner Sea Faiths, pg. 46~51

Obedience: Preach of the coming end times to a listener who has not yet accepted this truth. If the person leaves or otherwise refuses to listen to you for the full hour, you must find another person to preach to so that you are proselytizing the entire time. Alternatively, if no one at all is available to listen, spend an hour contemplating ways and times the world might end—do so in an empty place where nothing lives and no person except Groetan worshipers have been for at least a month. While you contemplate, deface any surface available to you with unholy images and symbols, such as a skull-like moon. Benefit: You gain a +1 sacred or profane bonus on Will saving throws.

the sad part is that pretty much every god in inner sea faiths is like this. First Ghlaunder and now THIS! Paizo was scared of Deific Obedience when it was first written, and it shows!

God you really are just tasked with being an annoying doomsayer for an hour, huh? Standing around with a sandwich board that reads THE END IS NIGH every single day you want your god’s blessing. You can easily get away with just preaching to your party every day, provided they don’t mind listening to this crazy babble... and, of course, provided that the end of the world isn’t actually coming, or else your evangelism will come off as tasteless. But, what do you care? You’ve been saying it all this time! It’s likely going to get you punched in the face or even mauled by a crowd if you try it in the middle of a city currently undergoing a crisis (as cities in Pathfinder are wont to do), though. So, uh, be careful.

This is one of the rare Obediences where the primary method is actually easier to do than the secondary, because it specifically demands that you find somewhere “nothing lives.” While a merciful DM may allow you to share a space with vermin, this does mean you can’t simply find a quiet area in a woodlands, because trees, brush, and grass all count. Stick to the cities or in ruined civilizations! Ironically, this means that being captured and thrown in a dungeon is actually beneficial for you, provided no one else has been locked in that specific cell for more than a month.

All this hard work for a measly +1 though. I’m insulted, honestly; it’s a universal bonus to the most important saving throw you have and it stacks with everything, but it’s only a +1! It would have been fine at +2! Come on, Groetus, shell a bit more out to your flock!

Boons are acquired slowly: the first once you reach 12 hit dice, the second at 16, and the third at 20. However, the Evangelist, Exalted, and Sentinel Prestige Classes can be entered as early as level 5; doing so grants you the Boons at levels 8, 11, and 14 instead. As Groetus is a true deity and does not require Fiendish Obedience, you earn the right to enter the classes earlier than those who serve fiends!

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EVANGELIST

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Boon 1: Doomsayer. Gain Doom 3/day, Augury 2/day, or Bestow Curse 1/day.

Oooh, Bestow Curse! That’s always fun to see! It’s a Save-Or-Suck that keeps on s--being terrible long after the battle has ended, if the enemy you slap with it gets away! It’s ALSO a touch spell entirely negated by a save, and we all know how I feel about those. Better make sure it sticks and sticks hard, or drawing into an enemy’s melee range can earn you a pretty severe slapping.

Augury is decent to have as a spell-like (I’d never prepare it as an actual spell), though its limited gaze of only 30 minutes into the future is an equal blessing and bane and it relies entirely on DM fiat... AND there’s a non-negligible chance it simply won’t work! Which means that if you don’t want to rely on the Save or Suck of Bestow Curse, your best bet (eugh) is the tragically weak and ironically ominous Doom--WAIT THAT’S RIGHT I ALMOST FORGOT! The Shaken condition also imposes a -2 to saving throws! Ok yeah, if you don’t want to rely on BC, Doom is a pretty good way to go if you have some way to bolster its pathetic saving throw of 11+Cha mod.

Boon 2: Consume Essence. 1/day, you may touch a corpse. That corpse must make a Fortitude save (DC 10 + 1/2 your HD + your Cha mod) or be reduced to dust as per Disintegrate. You gain 1d8 temporary HP, which last for a number of hours equal to your Hit Dice.

Before we get into the rest of this mess, I just really need to point out that an unattended, nonmagical object is not able to make saving throws, and a corpse is an object. ThereFOR, it should not even get to make a save against this ability!

What stats do you even use for it? The former creature? Because that’s just unnecessarily confusing, especially if you use it on the corpse of a long-dead creature. I really, really don’t see why this ability should allow a save, especially since A) it’s only usable once a day and B) it’s incredibly weak. Under what circumstances would you use this? Because I’ll tell you right now, using this against a baddie that’s supposed to be recurring will simply make the DM contrive a reason for them to come back anyway. Turning them to ash will just make it harder. I suppose there is a niche use in bringing it against creatures who can reanimate themselves, or against casters who may have Contingencies in place, but

but still, like. It’s a bad Boon. If you want a body destroyed, hacking it to pieces or burning it is just as easy, all this ability does is save you time. And maybe not even then! Because it gives the body a saving throw! For WHATEVER reason! And you only get to do it ONCE a day! Honestly, everything about this ability is just a progressively more insulting middle finger, all leading up to the pitiful 1d8 HP you get. There’s a lot of Boons that are straight up bad or useless, but I think this is the first one I’ve actually hated. Lets move on...

Boon 3: Whispers of Insanity. 1/day as a standard action, you may whisper Groetus’ Truth into the mind of a creature within 30ft. This acts as the Insanity spell, but the save DC is 10+1/2 your HD+your Cha mod. In addition to the normal methods of curing Insanity, a Modify Memory spell or similar can end the effect. A Knowledge (Religion) check (DC same as the saving throw) reveals this information.

Insanity is a decent spell, essentially being a permanent Confusion... but it only affects a single target, and whoever you’d want to use it against is typically not going to last long enough for the permanent duration to matter. I suppose slapping someone you hate but don’t necessarily want to kill is good enough, or blasting some poor random sod who hasn’t accepted the Truth, but as a Boon? Groetus really doesn’t bless his Evangelists with anything good.

Insanity is not only a level 7 spell while most 3rd Boons grant 9th level effects, but in stark contrast to a normal third Boon, the version you get here is actually weaker than just getting the spell normally, because Insanity has a Long range (100ft + 10ft/lvl) and can only be removed with 7th+ level magic (Greater Restoration, Heal, etc). Having a much easier method of dispelling the effect is just insulting, even if it is flavorful. This would be considered a second tier Boon by most deities, or even demigods! Come on, Groty, step it up!

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EXALTED

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Boon 1: Maddening Voice. Gain Lesser Confusion 3/day, Mad Hallucination 2/day, or Confusion 1/day.

Off to a bad start. Lesser Confusion may as well not even be a spell, so we’re moving on from there. Mad Hallucination is a fun spell to not need components for, barraging a single target with visions of insanity for upwards to an hour, though mechanically it’s only a -2 to a very small number of relatively unimportant checks (caster level really only applies to players, who must regularly pierce SR). Rather uniquely, it’s not mind-affecting, but is instead a phantasm Illusion, allowing it to affect a wider range of creatures than normal! But it’s still not really super useful, because as it’s negated by a Will save and penalizes Will saves with a successful application, wouldn’t you have preferred a Save or Suck first?

This leaves Confusion which, as area of effect spells go, isn’t the best. There’s a 1/2 chance that they essentially lose their turn, but a 1/4 chance that they’re unaffected by the confusing magic and a 1/4 chance that they attack the nearest creature... Which, more often than not, means your allies anyway. Speaking of, Confusion doesn’t discriminate between ally and enemy, so blasting a crowd that happens to have a friend inside will force them to make a Will save as well.

It’s a hysterical spell to drop on a crowd of smaller enemies (or a crowd of innocent civilians), but the coin flip nature of its effect makes it terribly unreliable. It’s still the best option among the three, though.

Boon 2: Silent Witness. 1/day as a full-round action, you can protect yourself with the effects of Invisibility, Nondetection, and Sanctuary for 10 minutes per Hit Die you possess. Anyone who succeeds at a Will saving throw (DC = 10 + 1/2 Hit Dice + Wis mod) or a caster level check (DC = 11+your HD) against these effects sees a glimpse of something unfathomable and becomes confused for 1 round unless it succeeds at a second Will save with the same DC.

Have you ever wanted to be this gif?

Then good news! Exalted of Groetus can live out that dream! With little more than a gesture and a bit of concentration, you can just vanish from the world for a little while. It’s not a complete disappearance, mind, because anything with blindsense, blindsight, or scent can still track you, but by god can absolutely no one see you (remember you’re shielded from Detect X spells!). And, thanks to Sanctuary, even if they have a way to keep track of you, there’s a chance that they won’t be able to act on it.

The mindbogglingly massive 10 min/level duration effect on each of the effects screws over Nondetection (with a normal 1 hour/level duration) but is a monstrous buff to Invisibility (1 min/lvl) and especially to Sanctuary (1 round/lvl), because someone failing their save against Sanctuary means they can’t target the warded creature for the duration of the spell! While normally a fighting monster could just pull back and wait for the effect to expire as they focus their efforts on the rest of the party, good luck kiting for 10 minutes. The shielding effect breaks the moment you attack, but you can get around that by never casting damage-dealing spells! Crowd control and SoS spells all day!

Invisibility and Nondetection also make you the undisputed king of sneaking into places, too. Mundane eyesight and magical detection spells will fail to pierce your veil, requiring the 6th level True Seeing to actually see where you’ve gone. I really enjoy the added touch that anyone successfully piercing the spell effects has to make a save or become confused. It’s just some nice frosting atop this cake! Already Groetus is looking better and better!

Boon 3: Infinite Patience. You cannot die of old age, even through magical means. You still physically age, accruing bonuses and penalties as normal. In addition, once per day as a standard action, you can choose any one action you could ready and define a condition under which you will take that action. Within the next 24 hours, whenever you observe that condition, you can take the chosen action as an immediate action.

Age without youth isn’t something you see a lot of nowadays, except in cases of diabolic bargains going haywire. To have a god inflict it upon its followers is something special; I like enjoy the fact that you’ll eventually just need to outright mummify yourself if you want to keep moving (or invest in mechanical/magical parts). It brings to mind the mental image of a cult to Groetus opening an ancient coffin to reveal their absolutely skeletal leader, old enough to have seen Earthfall and coursing with madness and might in equal measure.

But post-campaign shenanigans aside, the primary use of this ability is a pseudo-Contingency that you can use to prepare anything. Any action you could conceivably ready (an attack, a standard-action spell, a sudden move, a sabotaging strike, etc) is usable with this ability! And because you don’t have to name the action or condition right away, with a bit of good guesswork (or divination magic), you can custom tailor your immediate action for maximum benefit; you can go the mundane route and have it be something simple, like “if an enemy strikes me with a melee attack, teleport to safety” or “if I am brought below half health, cast Heal or Mass Heal on myself/my allies,” or the bonkers route like “the instant the enemy opens their mouth to monologue, cast Disintegrate” or “if someone compares me to an animal, use magic to turn into that animal.”

This ability rewards both creativity and thinking ahead, so get good at both! Because used right, this ability is “cast any spell w/ a standard action casting time as an immediate action,” and used wrong it’s “do nothing.”

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SENTINEL

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Boon 1: Endbringer. Gain True Strike 3/day, Death Knell 2/day, or Keen Edge 1/day.

I’m 90% sure there’s been Boons named Endbringer before, and nowhere else is it less appropriate than this menagerie of mediocrity. Oh, sure, Keen Edge is nice and all, but want a fun fact? Groetus’ sacred weapon is the heavy flail, which deals bludgeoning damage, and Keen Edge can ONLY be applied to a piercing or slashing weapon. That means you, the Sentinel, the holy martial warrior, cannot bless your own holy weapon chosen by your god. Sure, you can bless someone else’s stuff, but it still boggles my mind that they’d give you spell that cannot work on your own weapons!

Ironically, despite that, it’s probably your best choice. True Strike is useless unless you can cast a Quickened version, and Death Knell saves you basically no time (if you want a dying enemy to die, walk over and stab them 2~4 times). The only real use for Death Knell for a martial character is to take care of creatures with Ferocity or Diehard, or cheesing a creature with Regeneration.

Boon 2: Visions of the End. 1/day as a full-round action, you can gain the benefits of Augury, Know the Enemy, and Locate Weakness simultaneously, all regarding the same creature or object (even if the spell normally doesn’t function with objects) and its death or undoing. These effects apply only to the target.

Because these are relatively niche spells: Know the Enemy lets you make an immediate Knowledge check versus the target with a +10 insight bonus, and Locate Weakness lasts 1 min/level and allows you to roll twice for critical hit damage and take the better results. While normally KtE only affects creatures, this ability allows you to make it against objects as well.

Evangelists got screwed, huh? Imagine not being able to cast three spells at once (this post made by Exalted And Sentinel Gang). Now, granted, this ability isn’t as useful as Silent Witness above is, but it’s a pretty handy way to deal with a creature you’ve never seen before. With Locate Weakness’s lengthy duration, you can use this ability before combat begins and use the knowledge gained from Augury (perhaps asking if a certain tactic would work?) and Know the Enemy to better prepare yourself and your party.

The added flexibility of being able to focus this power on an object opens up a lot of options as well, such as using it to parse the history of an Artifact, to know where or when an item may have come from, and how best to destroy it if need be. This spell combo isn’t the best, but even at its worst it’s a free +10 to a Knowledge check against any critter or object and an Augury against the same target to let the DM sprinkle some hints for you here and there.

Boon 3: Frightful Presence. You can terrify foes as a free action whenever you take an offensive action, such as attacking. Foes within 30 feet of you and with fewer Hit Dice than you must succeed at a Will saving throw or become shaken for a number of rounds equal to your Hit Dice (DC = 10 + 1/2 your HD + Cha mod). If the victim has 4 or fewer Hit Dice, it becomes panicked instead. Foes with more Hit Dice than you are immune to this ability.

Frightful Presence is a massively powerful ability when it’s on a dragon or powerful Outsider, terrifying whole armies at once and sending them scattering--perhaps even to the point of attacking one another to get away--but in the hands of a player? It’s not exactly as strong. When you face something with Frightful Presence, there’s a 100% chance that they’ll have more HD than you (and maybe your entire party), assuring that you’ll be shaken up at least once in the fight. If you have FP, however, it’s never going to work on anything you desperately want it to, because anything with your HD or higher is entirely unaffected and unimpressed by your antics, and of course anything worth fighting has more HD than you.

The scaling on this ability means basically no minions will march into battle against you without being shaken, and swarms of minor foes trying to clog you up will be sent running to the hills by your terrifying aura. It’s a satisfying feeling of power to walk into an area filled with low level enemies (or civilians) and force them to run in utter, pants-soiling terror at the mere sight of you. What’s better than a tank that draws aggro? One who ends it.

There’s no per-day use on this ability and no 24-hour immunity clause on it, so even if you fail to scare the crowd once, you can just try, try again every single time you attack. So, it’s safe to say that while Groetus started off pathetically weak with his basic benefit and the travesty of his Evangelists, his Exalted and Sentinels more than make up for it in terms of power and flexibility. Not bad! And soon, we’ll see what sorts of actual sentinels he’s got on his side...

You can read more about him here.

#Spiritual Spotlight #Neutrality Notes #Pathfinder #Dungeons and Dragons

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missnight0wl · 5 years ago

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Why Rakepick didn’t appear before Y4? HPHM explained

I’m getting tired of the fact that the game delivers no answers and just creates more questions, so... I gathered the possible answers scattered around. Spoilers ahead for the whole story (Y6Ch22).

Let’s explain/fix Hogwarts Mystery, y’all!

But first, let’s establish some things

One of the subplots that really bugs me (and definitely should’ve been addressed after the Portrait Vault) is the fact that Dumbledore was searching for Rakepick since Y1. I know I sound like a broken record with that, but the thing is that it wasn’t some single mention - it’s reoccurring information. First, we had an optional conversation in Y1Ch9:

Then, there was Y2, and in the very first chapter of it, Dumbledore was already gone:

Y2Ch3 when McGonagall and Snape found Ben:

Y2Ch9:

... and the next scene:

Finally, we had the end of Y3:

And already in Dumbledore’s office:

Moreover, this information was reminded once more in “Rita Returns” SQ which originally was placed in Y4:

The writers wanted us to know that it took time for Dumbledore to find Rakepick. And I have to ask: HOW? How does it even make sense? First of all, it’s freaking Albus Dumbledore we’re talking about, one of the greatest wizards of his times - he shouldn’t have much trouble finding anyone. And secondly, how Rakepick from all people was hard to find? I mean, she’s kind of a celebrity - the world’s greatest Curse-Breaker, the Head Curse-Breaker at Gringott’s, drawing a lot of attention with her accomplishments.

She couldn’t have just... disappeared. In fact, because we didn’t get at any point information that she was absent from public life right before coming back to Hogwarts, I assume that she WASN’T simply absent. So, again, how it’s possible that Dumbledore was looking for her for so long? Well, I see two options:

Rakepick was protected by the Fidelius Charm. The cases we’ve seen in the original series were about hiding a location, but perhaps, it’s also possible to hide a person on their own. In that case, Dumbledore could’ve been standing in front of Rakepick and he wouldn’t find her unless the Secret was revealed to him.

Dumbledore wasn’t exactly searching for her, but he was going away to convince her to come back to Hogwarts.

In both cases, we still have the same problem: why she couldn’t/didn’t want to return earlier? According to her story from the Portrait Vault, she wanted to come back - and it should’ve been super easy for her. The news about the Cursed Vaults was well-known after Y2 (Y3Ch1):

Why Rakepick didn’t just come to Hogwarts, saying: “Hey, Albus. You have the Cursed Vaults, I’m a Curse-Breaker, let’s help each other” - especially that HE WANTED HER TO COME. It makes no sense whatsoever, and I don’t understand why we don’t talk about it.

Now, let’s skip to Y4. Two important things happened then: Rakepick arrived and R made the first direct contact with MC. I don’t buy that she was behind Ben’s attack because it’d be plain stupid on R’s part to draw attention to their own member like that. No, I’m fairly certain that Rakepick wasn’t working with R at the time.

I also assume that Jacob and Rakepick were working together at least since the Forest Vault (in his times). When MC was spying on Rakepick for Snape in Y4Ch12, we witnessed that scene:

She KNOWS the curse was broken. She knows it from Jacob, and she probably helped him with that, whether with the knowledge or perhaps she even was there with him. From Jacob’s notebook, we also know that he was going with her to the Portrait Curse. But there was one more thing in-between: Duncan died. And after that, Jacob got a letter from R:

I assume that “she” in the first sentence is about Patricia, and by “there are no friends”, R not only was drawing Jacob’s attention away from Duncan’s death. They were also saying that he shouldn’t work with Rakepick. I imagine that they were not happy about that, no matter if she was genuinely helping Jacob or she had her own interest in that - she was keeping him from R. It'd go along with the threat R sent to Rakepick (the letter MC found in Y4Ch5):

It was never confirmed when it was written - it could’ve been in Jacob’s time (I wrote more about that letter in this post.)

So, what did Jacob decide in that situation? The boy who was worried that Hogwarts was doomed if he wouldn’t find the Vault of Fear fast enough? The boy who told Alistair Fidgen that he’s upset because people are getting hurt due to the curses? Who was letting R manipulate him to protect his loved ones? He joined his enemy, to protect them once more.

Now, to the proper explanation

Here’s what I’m thinking. Jacob made a deal with R to continue his job for them IF they wouldn’t hurt MC. We know he was blackmailed like that even before Duncan’s death, but I imagine that after his expulsion, Jacob actually joined their group (as in: he was exclusively focusing on doing tasks for them). R accepted his conditions, but MC couldn’t get any help when it comes to the Cursed Vaults: neither from Jacob OR Rakepick. For some reason, R needed to start over from the Vault of Ice, but they knew that when the curses appear at Hogwarts again, Dumbledore would try to reach to the greatest Curse-Breaker. That’s why Rakepick couldn’t arrive in the first years, and why R wasn’t attacking MC - they were using Ben instead.

Now, why R wouldn’t want to actually use MC at the time? The kid was at school, after all, right where the Cursed Vaults are. I suppose it’s a good moment to point out that I strongly believe that the siblings are connected to the Cursed Vaults “by blood” and that one of them is needed to open the final vault. I also imagine that there might be some additional requirements like you have to go through all of the vaults personally. It is the final vault, so it only makes sense that it’d be extra hard to get to whatever it holds. They could’ve used MC, but it was easier to go quickly through the whole process and use Jacob at the end who was already prepared for that - at least, that was the original plan. At the same time, they didn’t bother much about MC’s search as they thought the kid has no sources and wouldn’t go far alone anyway. Notice that everything we got was from Jacob. We don’t know what he was using previously in his own research as we didn’t really find anything.

However, something happened during MC’s Y3 that broke the deal between Jacob and R. My guess is that it was about the clues left for MC in the Vaults and/or Jacob communicating with us via Legilimency. R found out that Jacob was helping his little sibling (and he wasn’t supposed to do that), they got pissed off, and they restricted his freedom even more. Interestingly, the first Rita Skeeter’s SQ was placed in Y3, and this is what she told us about our brother then:

Being trapped in a portrait IS NOT the same as “being held captive”, and I will die on this hill. Jacob wasn’t in the Portrait Vault at that time. In fact, we learnt from Nearly Headless Nick that there was another case of the Portrait Curse at Hogwarts, 5-10 years ago (from the present time), and the victim was freed - meaning that the curse was broken. Rakepick’s story that Jacob got trapped because the dragon wasn’t defeated and the curse wasn’t broken IS A LIE! Let’s move on for now though...

A little later, in Y3Ch6, MC received the Letter From No One:

I speculate that this letter was from Rakepick for a long time, and it actually fits the current theory pretty well. Patricia found out that Jacob screwed up and that R wouldn’t stop now from going after MC to stop the kid, so she had to step in. Why R didn’t attack in Y3 then? Perhaps it’s because MC already had the book needed to open the Vault of Fear. Maybe they decided that it’s easier to let MC break that one curse instead of getting the book from them and dealing with it on their own.

Let’s fast-forward a bit again. We have Y4 when Rakepick arrived. And what was the very first thing she did? She taught MC Protego:

Like, this was literally their first interaction one on one. Wouldn’t it be more important to question MC about their progress etc.? Why did she bother with this charm? Why it couldn’t wait? Well, because she knew that R might strike any moment now. And they did, in Y4Ch3:

I have two questions about that scene:

why R wanted to kill MC in Y4?

why they stressed to stay away from Rakepick?

... and I actually think it’s connected. In Y4, R had Jacob and - as I said before - they were planning to use him for the final vault. Therefore, they not only didn’t need MC but the kid was also some kind of a threat: they ARE able to reach the final vault and open it, especially if Rakepick helps them. And R knew that Rakepick would try to help them as that’s why she returned to Hogwarts.

All right, but then Y5 comes, and it seems that something has changed.

And here, I have two questions again:

why R doesn’t want to kill MC anymore?

why they want to kill one of their friends?

So, going in order. There’s no doubt that in Y4, R wanted to kill MC because they hadn’t listened to their warning, and they kept investigating the Cursed Vaults.

In Y5, they suddenly need MC. Why? Well, now we know that it was about the Legilimency door. But... didn’t they know about it back in Y4? It doesn’t make any sense, I don’t buy it. My guess is that something had happened to Jacob between Y4 and Y5 so R can’t use HIM anymore. Personally, I “like” to think that Jacob is dying. That the Vaults are somehow protecting themselves from a person who can open the final one, so they’re weakening him more and more the further he went. Maybe he’s being affected more by that effect because he’s a first-born (so his connection is stronger), or perhaps he somehow managed to take that on himself purposefully to spare his sibling. Either way, I imagine that R realised that Jacob might simply die before the final vault, so they decided that it’s safer to switch their focus to MC.

So, what’s the deal with killing a friend then? Why Rowan had to die? I mean, when you think about it, it makes absolutely no sense - and I’m not talking only about the fact that Rowan’s arc was butchered from Y5. It doesn’t make sense that R wanted to kill anyone. Because look what we learnt from Duncan:

Yes, it seems that death threats are typical for R, but Jacob knew why they threatened him - or rather: what he had to do to avoid consequences. He had to obey. But MC? They weren’t told if they’re still supposed to stay away from the Vaults (just like they were instructed months ago), they didn’t get any orders to follow. Like... it’s not how threats work. When someone robs you, you’ll hear: “Give me your money or I’ll kill your friend”. MC heard only: “I’ll kill your friend”. And why they insisted on killing someone after the Portrait Vault? Was it purely an ego thing? Do they keep balance in the universe and if one person was sentenced to die, they have to die? Seriously, what do you mean?

Honestly, the only explanation that comes to my mind is that it’s another requirement for the final vault: that you have to experience some great loss to enter it. I think about it as similar to seeing Thestrals. It does explain why R didn’t bother to give their reasons for killing our friend. They didn’t need to use it as “motivation” for MC to obey them because MC was already motivated with finding their brother. It even fits Jacob’s story, and why R was perfectly fine with Duncan dying: Jacob had to experience some loss anyway.

Back to the main plot though. Y5 is passing, and in Y5Ch19, Rowan is put under the Imperius Curse. I believe that it’s the point when Rakepick decided to join R. When Rowan was used instead of Ben, Rakepick might’ve realised that she’s not able to control the situation as the independent player, that knowing what’s happening inside of R would give her a big advantage. And there was definitely something happening with her between Y5Ch19 and Y5Ch20. She was missing since the moment MC got back from Knockturn Alley.

Then we learnt about her rat's problem and Kettleburn’s advice to get 142 cats, but Rakepick herself returned only after Pettigrew Obliviated us. She was also weirdly absent during our pranks mission for Peeves. She even allowed Fletcher to use MC for duelling a Dark Wizard! It seems like she might’ve been quite busy with something at that time. Could’ve it been about her plan for the Portrait Vault which she had to prepare almost on the spot?

In this place, I want to address the issue of Rakepick working with Merula. Now, if you want to say: “There’s no way they were working together. We saw Rakepick torture Merula, she said the incantation!” - I’m gonna stop you here.

Y5Ch27:

If MC answers that it’s because Rakepick trusts them, this is her reaction:

Notice that she talks about herself AND Bill – she sees all three of them as a group. She didn’t say anything like: “Rubbish! She should tell me, not you!”. In the very same chapter (Y5Ch27), Rakepick also taught us the Conjunctivitis Curse:

In other words: Merula did question Rakepick.

Y5Ch28:

Merula is absolutely certain that she’s favourite, even though just days ago she was clearly worried that MC might be liked more. Where her confidence suddenly comes from?

Y5Ch29:

But she does. She did it, Patty, just days ago...

Unless you have a better explanation for that sudden change, I’ll stick to the idea of them working together. And no, “the writers just changed their mind between two chapters” is not an explanation, definitely not a better one. Before Y5Ch28, Rakepick didn’t care much about Merula, and Merula DIDN’T see Rakepick as a mother figure. So, why they decided to convenience MC (and the players) that there’s a bond between them? To make the events in the Portrait Vault more meaningful.

You see, the thing with MC and Merula’s relationship is that it’s complicated - and the writers are aware of that. You might consider Merula your MC’s friend, but it’s not universally true for canon MC. In Y5Ch28, we had the option to tell Torvus that we’re not friends and that we’ll never be. Even after the Portrait Vault, MC said that the things WERE STARTING to go well between them. My point is that it’d be more painful for MC if Rakepick chose for a victim someone from their actual/older friends: Bill, Charlie/Penny, or Ben. But that’s why it was important to make MC believe that Merula is so charmed by Rakepick. Because then, the suffering wasn’t about seeing your classmate being tortured - it was about kid’s trust being betrayed by their mentor. MC is portrayed as a good-hearted person, so it would affect them no matter their personal feelings towards Merula. And since they never question anything, they also didn’t question why Merula’s admiration was so exaggerated all of a sudden.

All right, but why torture at all? Like... I’m sorry, but that’s another thing I totally don’t buy: Rakepick is very goal-oriented, she wouldn’t waste time on stupid Cruciatus Curse. Even if you want to believe that she’s a sadist, why the fuck she didn’t immobilize the kids first and then go to torture? Why she let them defend themselves? Well, here’s go another assumption for this theory. Remember the part about experiencing the loss as a requirement for the final vault? Since the Cursed Vaults are ancient creation, I imagine that the sources of knowledge about them are also ancient and/or incomplete. Therefore, my theory is that this particular information was very vague and open to interpretation (like, talking only about “the great loss/suffering”). Of course, R - who’s pure evil - assumed that it’s about someone’s death. However, Rakepick managed to convince them that perhaps seeing someone being tortured would be enough. And here, I can see three possibilities:

There are theories in HP fandom that one can perhaps “block” Crucio through Occlumency. Since the curse doesn’t cause the physical pain directly but it stimulates pain receptors, it’d make sense that one could “cut it off” (at least partially) by closing their mind. And Merula would definitely take the chance to learn Occlumency and become better at it than MC.

It’s canon that you can control the strength of the Cruciatus Curse while casting it, so it’s possible that Rakepick hit Merula with something comparable to Harry’s attempt on Bellatrix - enough to fall over, still bad, but not as bad as the game wants us to believe.

Finally, the last option which is currently my favourite: Rakepick didn’t use Crucio at all. The reason why I like it is because it also explains the situation where Rakepick wanted to teach us the curse in Knockturn Alley: it was supposed to show us (the players) that Rakepick CAN make it look like she’s using the spell without actually using it. Otherwise, the scene was basically pointless. Rakepick didn’t even have a reason to want to teach MC that. And you’re telling me she’s stupid enough to make absolutely clear for MC that using Crucio results in a lifetime in Azkaban right before using Crucio on someone? Please.

Now, I can hear you saying: “But we’ve seen Merula suffer!”, to which I have to ask: why it’s so hard for you to believe that she might be pretending? She KNOWS very well that MC might be manipulated if they feel sorry for someone. And she said more than once that she’ll do anything to get to the Cursed Vaults. Honestly, Merula working with Rakepick is not only a more interesting story but it’d be better for Merula’s character, too. For once, she wouldn’t be a poor victim. She’d finally show that she’s ambitious and cunning as she always claims to be. And her anger and need for revenge in Y6? Well, for one, it can be an act as well, at least to a degree. Because the thing is that even if they were working together, I doubt Rakepick would tell Merula everything. The more Merula realises that she wasn’t let in on the whole plan, the more upset she gets, and the more she doubts if Rakepick didn’t screw her over for real. It works pretty perfectly for everything because it makes Merula’s act more believable. Especially that I’m certain that Merula wasn’t expecting Rowan’s “death”. But before that issue, let’s go back to the Portrait Vault.

So, MC was left behind. Rakepick betrayed them and is on the run. Their brother went after her, possibly risking his life. And I ask again: why Rakepick failed so hard? Why Jacob didn’t answer any of our questions? Because the goal of them both is to lure MC to the final vault. Seriously, like... what Jacob was thinking? I’m not talking about the fact that he left, but that he did it without ANY EXPLANATION. I don’t care how many times he’ll repeat that he doesn’t want MC to get involved. He knows damn well that by not telling them anything, he’ll only make MC want to chase after him. And that’s also the reason why I think that it’s not real Jacob. I explained earlier why it’s a lie that Jacob was trapped in the portrait for years. But now, with my assumption that he got imprisoned for helping his sibling with the clues, I doubt R would trust him to place him as bait. Therefore, they put the imposter in the Vault instead, to give MC hope that their goal is so close, yet they still have to run after him.

In the meantime, Y6 is passing, but R decides that they don’t want to risk it that MC might be able to open the final vault - they want to kill someone, just in case, to be sure. That’s when Rowan’s “death” happens. And look... it HAS TO be fake. If you believe it’s real, that’s cool. But then, I have one question for you: please, try to put your emotions aside, and explain it to me. Because that’s how I see it:

We know that Rowan was following us from the castle, right? Hell, we saw them behind us in the Great Hall right before we left to the Forest. Rowan had to be very close to the group all that time. When we arrived at the Forest Grove, we spent some time there searching for the signs of R’s presence. Again, Rowan would have to catch up to us by the time Dementors showed up. Everyone was surprised by their appearance, so I imagine that they had to be staying in hiding. I assume it’s supposed to be covered by Penny/Charlie telling us that Rowan promised to not interfere unless a life would be on the line. But here’s a thing: it was a matter of life and death pretty much from a moment Rakepick appeared. She allegedly wanted to kill MC, and it was one of the first things she told us. Even if Rowan didn’t hear that, from their point of view, Rakepick is a wanted criminal who already tried to kill their friends. Rowan is also smart and protective, they would try to use their advantage where nobody knew about their presence and attack Patricia from behind, for example. If you tell me that they arrived just after Rakepick said incantation yet in time to jump in front of Ben... I simply don’t believe it. As I said, there was plenty of time for Rowan to catch up even before a duel began, so they would react earlier. If you accept bad writing as an explanation for that - you do you. But as I said at the beginning, it’s an attempt at explaining AND fixing the plot, so that’s what I’m doing: I’m fixing it without changing anything. Rowan’s entrance was set up, and I don’t know how they’ll explain it, but Rowan is alive. The whole point of it is that MC has to process that “death” to be able to open the final vault.

To sump up

Jacob and Rakepick were working together around the time of his expulsion, in defiance of R.

Eventually, Jacob agreed to join R to protect his family, and possibly Rakepick. I mean, his feelings aside, he wrote in his notebook that she saved his life, so he might’ve felt obligated - and we know that R threatened Rakepick at some point. Jacob made a deal with R that he’ll work for them if they won’t hurt his family. R agreed, but MC couldn’t get any help from him OR Rakepick.

Jacob broke the deal by leaving us the clues. He lost any remains of freedom he had had.

In Y4, R wanted to stop MC’s search by killing them. Rakepick finally could return to Hogwarts to protect and help MC without breaking Jacob’s deal (because it was already broken).

Before Y5, R realised that Jacob had become useless for them for some reason. They switched their interest to MC since one of the siblings is needed to open the final vault.

Rakepick joined R around Y5Ch20 to gain better insight into their actions.

She staged the torture scene with Merula to not have to kill any of the kids (as R believes it’s needed to open the final vault).

R wasn’t satisfied with that solution, so eventually, they ordered Rakepick to kill MC’s friend anyway. Rakepick staged the situation in the Forbidden Forest with Rowan.

So yeah. Bada bing bada boom, we can go home. Do I think that they actually will bother to explain all of that? Absolutely no. Do I think it can be explained more simply without leaving unanswered questions? Also no. The sad thing is that this analysis/theory doesn’t even cover all of the holes still existing in the story. But... Go ahead, Jam City. Prove me wrong. Give me something better - and by “better”, I also mean “making sense”.

And if you like my overthinking, you might consider buying me a Ko-fi - link on my blog! Because, you know, it’s not like Jam City is going to pay me, even if they’ll somehow find it and use it to remind themselves their own story (God knows they need it...). That being said, all other kinds of feedback are also very welcomed!

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recentanimenews · 5 years ago

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Made in Abyss: Dawn of the Deep Soul – Trials Make Love Stronger

I finished the first season of Made in Abyss three years and a week ago, commenting that while I ached to know what would happen next, a long rest was in order, so that I might recover from the emotional wounds throughout that first run, culminating in the shockingly brutal story of Mitty and Nanachi.

Turns out no amount of time would heal those wounds to the extent they wouldn’t be re-opened and—very soul freshly re-crushed—upon watching the continuation of the Abyss story. That’s because the deeper Riko, Reg, and Nanachi descend, the more acute and devastating the horrors they encounter.

This is the third of three Made in Abyss films; the first two were a retelling of the first season, while the third is a direct sequel As such, spoilers throughout.

Case in point: upon arriving at one of her mother’s favorite spots in all of the Abyss, the Garden of Flowers of Fortitude, they encounter one of Bondrewd’s delvers, the Umbra Hands, harvesting tissue from other delvers who have been infected by a parasite that not only feeds off you while you’re still alive, but feeds itself to you in order to keep you alive. Lovely!

Few anime do soaring vistas like Abyss, and there’s something just so otherworldly and dread-inducing about the sight of the Fifth Layer’s Sea of Corpses, along with Idofront, Bondrewd the Novel’s domain. But as cold and unyielding and inhospitable as the spinning ghost city seems on the outside, within resides one of the sweetest, warmest, most human souls they’ve yet encountered: an adorable little girl named Prushka.

Prushka is Bondrewd’s daughter (voiced by Minase Inori), who is initially suspicious of outsiders coming to help her dad when she thinks she should be enough. But once she meets Riko, Reg, and Nanachi, they open for her a whole new world of questions and information about the Surface (she was born in the Abyss).

It’s so strange to see Prushka acting so lovey-dovey with Bondrewd, perpetrator of countless acts of sickening biological crimes, especially since he and his Umbra Hands resemble evil robots. And yet that evil robot still has a strange gravitational pull Nanachi finds hard to resist. Nanachi can’t forgive Bondrewd, but something still draws them toward him. Nanachi was something of a child figure to him, after all, so Nanachi sees Prushka as a younger self.

Bondrewd has bad news for Riko: while she may have her mother’s White Whistle, only the person for whom the whistle was made can use it to activate the altar that will take her down to the Sixth Layer. He offers them accommodations to “think things over”, but there isn’t any doubt his intentions for them are about as far from harmless as they’re all far from the Surface.

Despite her cozy room, soon Riko wakes up alone, and upon exploring, finds that she’s trapped in a small area with the only exit being a stair Prushka warned will cause “strains of ascension” if climbed. When Riko attempts to climb them anyway, she loses all sense of touch and balance, grinds her baby molars away and falls down the stairs, gaining cuts here and there. But she hallucinates far worse: as the very concepts of what and where are gradually eaten away by white light.

Ultimately, the reason Bondrewd does anything all comes down to curiosity and the aspiration to reach the bottom of the Abyss and learn its infinite secrets, same as Riko. It’s just a matter of scope and scale. Riko has managed to retain her humanity throughout her descent. But while has the affable dad voice and general form of a man, there is simply nothing left of Bondrewd’s humanity.

After Nanachi offers to stay with him and help him continue his research in exchange for Riko and Reg’s safety, Bondrewd tells them that, uh, unfortunately, he’s already tossed Reg to his Umbra Hands, who restrain him, slice off his right arm (along with Incinerator) and start collecting his bodily fluids. That’s when Riko, who was helped up to the upper level by Prushka, intervenes, and Prushka learns the truth about her father for the first time.

With Bondrewd showing his true horrific colors loudly and proudly, Nanachi, the most experienced with how he operates, comes up with a plan to take him out. This involves luring him into a nest of giant seven-tailed scorpions, trying to infect him with parasite larvae, and finally Reg crushing his body with a giant boulder.

Naturally, Bondrewd praises both Reg and Nanachi every time they toss a new tactic at him, saying things like “wonderful” and “I’m surprised.” After all, Nanachi is one of the creations of which of which he is most proud, one who unlike Mitty and the others was able to receive the “Blessing” of the Abyss rather than fall victim to the Curse. You’d could mistake it for fatherly pride if, again, Bondrewd had a shred of humanity. But his willingness to offer love and pain and suffering in equal measure disqualifies him as both from being either a parent or a human.

None of the tactics against him end up working, because the Umbra Hand who escorted Prushka simply takes the mask off of the crushed Bondrewd and places it on his head, thus transforming into a new, untouched Bondrewd. Turns out all of his Umbra Hands are him—and his immortality is tied to a relic called Zoaholic. The fight ends for now, and Bondrewd returns home with Prushka.

If Zoaholic didn’t make Bondrewd insane, the act of splitting his soul and essence into multiple bodies still removed what was left of his empathy or humanity, which is why he ends up having Prushka cruelly vivisected just like all of the other orphan children before her. He’s satisfied her experiences with Reg, Riko, and Nanachi helped “perfect” her, and this is the natural next step. She is never told this would happen, and never asked if it’s okay.

Her body is marked with “X’s” to signify the parts that will be cut away and discarded (most of it) until all that is left is a mass of “fleshy curse repellant” to be placed within a suitcase-sized cartridge. It is in this way that Bondrewd staves off the curse; using the pain and suffering of still technically-living children as his strength.

It’s truly skin-crawling, horrible, horrible stuff, and even though I had a reasonable suspicion that Prushka was doomed to a Mitty-like fate, I was still not ready to see even a little of that fate carried out, nor would I ever be. No one would!

By the Riko, Reg, and Nanachi return to Idofront to rescue her they’re way too late, while the sight of the “processing” room brings back Nanachi’s memories of assisting with said processing. When Bondrewd arrives, Riko and Nanachi they buy time for Reg, who hooks himself up to Idofront’s power supply and ends up rebooting in Berserk Mode.

Bondrewd tells Riko that his own White Whistle is the result of sacrificing his own body and soul, and that all White Whistles are made in this way—with a willing human sacrifice, not carved stone.

It’s then when Berserk-Reg arrives and fights on the same level as Bondrewd, ultimately blasting a huge sphere-shaped chunk out of Idofront. He lands in a pit of Mittys—material for Bondrewd’s cartridges, and we’re reminded of all those lights on the wall representing their lives are labeled: he remembers the name of every child, their unique qualities, and how cute they were. Shudder…

As Bondrewd and Reg are locked in an epic battle, we hear Prushka’s disembodied voice as she recounts her life with Bondrewd, starting as a failed subject. He decided to raise her as his daughter, gave her Meinya as a pet, and gave her a fun and happy childhood, ultimately culminating in her helplessly watching as pieces of her are removed one by one on the operating table.

We hear Prushka because she’s now a cartridge that Bondrewd is currently using in his fight, and ends up being his last cartridge. Even after what he did to her, she still wants to help her dad achieve his dreams—even if it means helping him fight against Reg, Riko, and Nanachi.

Thus aided by Bondrewd, Reg can’t defeat him with one arm, which is why he was buying time for Riko to retrieve his other arm. Even disconnected from his body, she’s able to aim it at Bondrewd and fire it, blasting him to pieces.

As this is happening, Prushka pleads with everyone not to fight, because they’re all going to have adventures together. An image of that dream appears in the climax of the battle, and is pretty much the most heartbreaking goddamn thing I’ve ever seen.

Then Bondrewd falls to the ground, finally beaten, and Nanachi stand over him. True to form, Bondrewd isn’t bitter about losing; on the contrary: he’s never been happier to find someone with stronger aspirations, will, and love defeat him. It means they, not him, are worthy of exploring the greater depths of the Abyss, and all the curses and blessings therein.

Riko holds the spent cartridge of what’s left of Prushka, simply red liquid that spills everywhere, and very understandably begins to bawl in absolute despair. But then she notices an object lying in the puddle of liquid: a White Whistle. Turns out Prushka’s soul willingly became the sacrifice necessary for Riko. Now her dream of going on adventures together can be realized.

With that, Riko gains the means to make her Last Dive, along with Reg (who learned a great deal about what his relic body can do) and Nanachi (who found a degree of closure in her vendetta with Bondrewd). Bondrewd, oddly enough, is still alive (after a fashion), but no longer a threat to them, and indeed is happy to see them off as they enter the “elevator” that will take them to the Sixth Layer, that much closer to Riko’s Mom, whatever’s become of her.

Quite appropriately, the end credits pull double duty as an illustration of that elevator descending ever deeper into the Abyss, accompanied by an achingly gorgeous song that is a collab between MYTH & ROID and Kevin Penkin. Penkin, of course, also contributed the score and outdoes himself in the task; his music has been and continues to be a vital piece of what makes Abyss so unique an special.

It doesn’t look like I’ll be able to end this in less than 1500 words, but whatever; this was basically four episodes of the anime comprising a Fifth Layer arc, enshrining Bondrewd the Novel as one of anime’s all-time most monstrous and compelling villains, exploring the ways ambition can mutate “love” into a heartlessly destructive force.

It also ably reinforced Abyss’ uncanny ability to tear its viewers’ hearts and souls to bloody shreds before painstakingly sewing them back together with delicate threads of hope. And with a second season in the early stages of production, the story of Riko, Reg, and Nanachi is far from over.

By: magicalchurlsukui

#Anime #News #RABUJOI – An Anime Blog

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asharinhun · 5 years ago

Text

Old friends

Samantha let out a content sigh after emptying what remained in her keg with one big gulp. People could say whatever they wanted, but there was no better way to numb pain than some quality beer. Luckily for her, there were only a few patrons at The Golden Keg, meaning Sam could keep the table at the corner all for herself. One leg propped up on one of the chairs, she tried one last futile effort to wipe a few locks away, but her hair was stuck to the right side of her face. It couldn’t be helped, she was still soaking wet thanks to the downpour and the time it took her to hobble to the establishment.

“Two more rounds, please!” Sam called once the waitress was close enough to hear without shouting and winced. Biting back a curse, she looked down at the culprit, her right arm resting in a makeshift sling, the best she could do given the circumstances. “There goes my mood... but it was worth it.” The words were barely more than a whisper, meant only for herself.

***

Not even half an hour before, Samantha was cointing the gold coins in her purse one-handed, doing her best to ignore the cacophony of the spectators and investors as another bout was over in the Brawler’s Guild. It was not even midday yet, the morning hours perfect to winnow out the ‘fresh meat’, to get a better grasp which new fighters had any potential or were doomed to obscurity or laughing stock.

Sam was lucky to be here in the first place, a member took notice of her the previous night in the inn she was staying at after she broke the jaw of a fellow too free with his hands. He was so impressed that she received the invitation right after, allowing her entrance if she wished so. It was one of the easiest choices recently, she needed the money.

After the fall of Gilneas, she was just one of the refugees along with her mother, her status as a minor noble gone for good. The night elves offering shelter were nice people, but while it was enough for her mother, Sam wanted revenge. She even had the perfect means: the curse of the worgen. Combined with her prior training, she hoped the boost of her worgen form would be sufficient to join the army, facing the Forsaken would be only a matter of time after that.

Taking what coin she could bring without inconveniencing her mother, Samantha took a ship to Stormwind to submit her application at the nearest recruiter, but didn’t expect the process would take so long and she was running low. The Brawler’s Guild was the perfect opportunity for swift gains.

Sam’s opponent was a big man, but he was quick for his size as she soon found out as his plated knuckles sent her head reeling, the edge of the metal leaving a nasty cut barely missing the corner of her right eye. The terrible start ignited her rage like adding fuel to the fire and she transformed.

The match was a close call and it left her battered, but she won. She won and raked in more coins than she could hope for. It turned out her opponent was a regular, and drawing him as an opponent was the nightmare of newcomers. hence her obviously terrible odds. After she made sure not a single piece of gold was missing, Sam sat to watch the other fighters, it took time for her non-dominant hand to turn her scarf into a sling without help, the investors were not too happy so she wisely didn’t ask any of them for aid.

Some regulars were starting to pop up as well, and that’s when she spotted him. His beard was longer, his hair a mess and he sported a scar running from just above his lips to his chin, but there was no doubt in her mind: the man stepping into the arena was none other than Gerrard Kingsley, another minor noble from Gilneas and her friend. “Bastion, huh? So he even has a nickname...” Sam muttered and -led by the sudden impulse- she bet some of her winnings on his victory. His odds were a lot better, so her gains would be less, but the Gerrard she knew would win. He didn’t disappoint her.

It was pretty much a one-sided pummeling, Gerrard didn’t even take on his worgen form no matter how his opponent taunted him. A pity. She really wanted to see how other worgen fought and maybe even learn a trick or two. Oh well, there’s always next time.

What Sam didn’t expect was when Gerrard walked past, she only received a cold glance in reply to her greeting, not even a word or a gesture. He just left, plain and simple, leaving a fuming Samantha behind.

***

“To ignore me like that, what a rude bastard! He should have returned the greeting at the very least!” Sam hissed, earning a confused look from the waitress. “Sorry, please ignore my outburst.” She apologised before adding “Men.” as if that word explained everything. Given the lady’s sympathetic smile and her nod, it did. That, or she simply took pity on Sam’s sorry state.

At least noone bothered her yet with questions she was unwilling to answer. A fresh wave of pain from her right ankle prompted the worgen to start on one of the kegs before glancing down at the offending limb. “Bahh, I knew it was a mistake to pull off the boot, no way I can put it back on. Now I’ll have to hop, damn it...” She muttered as she carefully ran the fingers of her good arm over the bare skin of her swollen foot.

She was too caught up in her plight that she took no notice of the hooded man entering the inn, until he was suddenly standing over her. “Who’re you and what do you want?” Samantha asked unkindly, still holding onto the small hope the guy would leave her alone, she was in no state to fight.

“Hello, Samantha.” The man greeted, pulling down the hood and got rid of his wet coat. It was Gerrad.

“You! To think you had the nerve-”

“Stop making a scene Sam, and listen well.”

His eyes blazed like molten gold, but it was his tone that made her back off. There was a hardness, a ruthlessness to it that she never heard before.

“Alright, say what you want then fuck off.” Samantha was annoyed at her defeated reply, only the cursing made her feel slightly better.

“Haahh... Seriously, you’re always either serene or furious. You really need to find that balance, you know.” Gerrard sighed, the edge gone from his voice. His was like his old self she knew well. “You managed to surprise them today, but you need to seriously consider your strategy if you insist on going back.” He added, lowering his voice to a whisper.

“I won, and that’s what matters.” Samantha huffed a sulky reply. “Why did you ignore me then, since it’s obvious you recognised me.”

“Look, there is a reason I already count as a regular. I spend most of my days there and do nothing but fight. The money is decent if you win, but those are deep waters you don’t want to dive into recklessly. I did, and have to live with the consequences. What happens down there stays there, but the investors have excellent memory and connections.” The male worgen paused letting his words sink in. “You get it now, don’t you?”

Samantha exhaled slowly, massaging her temple. “Yeah... I think I do. Good thing I don’t plan of showing up too often, but needed the coin.”

“That’s for the best.” Gerrard replied and reached after his keg, nodding his thanks to the waitress. “And what are your plans?”

“I already submitted my application to the army, but it’s been over a week and still no reply, and the rent of the room isn’t cheap. You’d think they need more soldiers now than ever.”

“The idea is good, you’ll receive the necessary basic training and the pay is decent. If you also work on your control over those feral instincts and your rage, you’ll be quite effective.”

“Hah, you surprise me. Most men would try to discourage me, yet you’re giving me pointers.” Sam snorted in reply.

“I think everyone has their right to get revenge, so why would I discourage you from that? Just make sure those damn forsaken receive the pointy end of your sword, and you avoid theirs.”

Samantha couldn’t reply for several seconds. “... Is it that obvious?”

“I know that fire in your eyes. I see it everytime I look into a mirror, the flames of vengeance burn bright. I chose the path of a mercenary instead less restrictions there, but I’ll make sure those bastards whill pay.” Gerrard responded with a sad smile. “While we are at that, show me that cut. It looked like it barely missed your eye. You had me worried there.”

“I’m fine.” Sam spoke the words automatically, but knew she fooled noone if her arm and ankle were any indication. “Alright, alright...” She finally pulled her hair away from her right cheek with a wince, revealing a long, anrgy red scratch right at the corner of an impressive shiner. She could still open the eye almost halfway despite the swelling if she wanted to, but it would take too much effort and pain so she simply kept it shut. “See? Nothing I can’t handle.”

“What I see now is that we will go and get you to a healer once we’re out of drinks. It’s probably already too late for that, but a priest is still your best bet if you want to avoid scarring.”

“Who cares about a scar or two. I will have more while in the army anyway.”

“That’s true, but they might think twice about letting you join if they see you in your current state.”

“Damn it, you didn’t lose your silver tongue, Gerrard.” Sam sighed once more. “Alright, consider me convinced... though I will need your shoulder to lean on while hopping. Damn sure I won’t put any weight on that foot.”

“I can give you a piggyback ride if your arm can suffer it, or there’s always the princess-bride as a last resort.”

“Youuu...” Oh, how she wanted to wipe that satisfied smirk off his face. “I’m tempted to take my chances on my own.” Sam rolled her eye before adding “Carrying me on your back will suffice, I don’t think my dignity would survive the bridal style.”

Gerrard just chuckled and nodded. He lifted his keg and knocked it against the one in Samantha’s hand. “For our revenge on the forsaken.”

“For our revenge.” Sam toasted as well, a feral grin of satisfaction on her face.

#Samantha #Gerrard #after the Cataclysm #queved

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kpopfanfictrash · 6 years ago

Note

62 + my bb hoseok. ily squish fish.

*coughs* um, here. [ drabble game is closed ]

“No,” you respond, crossing your arms. “Absolutely not.”

Rolling his eyes, Hoseok pushes a hand through his hair. Theresult is a rumpled, dark mess you can’t help but look twice at.

“Why not?” he says.

His words come out a s barely more than a whine; the sound is annoying enough that you glare.

“Because.” You gesture at the lone King-sized bed inthe middle of the room. “We are not sharing thattonight. I don’t give a flying fuck that Anna is getting married tomorrow, orthat I’m the maid of honor. This is where I draw the line.”

Hoseok exhales as he walks towards thedresser. “Listen,” he says, glancing at you in the mirror. His fingers workquickly to loosen his belt. “It isn’t as though I’m happy with this arrangement either. It’s just… you know, this is our best friends’ wedding. We’resupposed to be making things easier on them, not harder.”

Jaw tight, you stare him down in the mirror. You hate the fact that Hoseok is right. Anna and Yoongi are getting married tomorrow and Hoseokis the best man, and you’re the maid of honor.

This rehearsal dinner is notthe first time you two have met, however.

The first time you met was the night before Anna’s bacheloretteparty. You see, Anna had always wanted a male stripper for her party and you, as her maid ofhonor, were sent to scope out your options. This quest brought you uptown, to a small dancestudio where a stripper named Ricardo was meeting you for a demonstration.

As soon as you entered, you found yourself face toface with Hoseok. He was just leaving a practice room, sweat practically dripping fromhis brow and fuck, was he hot. With his cut jawline, sloped nose and million-wattsmile, there were no other words for it.

He was so hot, in fact, you thought for a moment he was Ricardo. You two talked for a bit – okay, maybe you even flirted –until you finally asked how much he charged for the night.

Hoseok’s jaw nearly dropped through the floor. He quicklyset the record straight, barely holding in laughter the entire time, but from that moment on,you knew you were doomed. This error has followed you around ever since. Hoseoknever fails to tease you and you despise him for it.

Okay, so maybe you onlydespise the part where you came off as a fool – to his credit, Hoseok was very nice about the encounter in the moment. He was gentle while setting you straight and took no offense to you asking him for a night rate.

The reason Hoseok was at the studio in the first place was because he’s amember of a prestigious dance company; something he informed you of beforehe made a crack about g-strings.

Such is your relationship with Jung Hoseok.

Fast-forward to tonight, the night before Anna and Yoongi’s wedding,when there has been a mix-up with rooms. You were supposed to have a co-suitewith the bride and Hoseok should have been joined to Yoongi’s room as his bestman. Unfortunately, the hotel screwed up your reservations and all that’s availableis Anna and Yoongi’s honeymoon suite.

Pushing his suitcase against the wall, Hoseok turns around to face you. Rose petals are sprinkled all over the comforter, which Hoseok leansover to awkwardly sweep to the floor.

“Y/N.” Hoseok turns serious. “It’s onlyone night. We’ll just share the bed. Or,” he says, arching a brow. “I can sleepon the floor if you want. I don’t want you feeling uncomfortable.”

There’s a long moment of quiet while you look at him.Hoseok is dressed simply in a white button-down and black jeans. He’s paired these with crazy, bright-colored sneakers – Anna warned you Hoseok has a crazy fashion sense. She also though you two would hit it off,but you’ve always said no due to the reasons.

Aka, the stripper fiasco.

Tonight isn’t about the reasons, though. Tonight, you have no other option but to pay an exorbitant fee for the hotel nextdoor and you cannot afford to do that right now. Not with your barely-scraping-by salary and student loan debt.

“Alright,” you sigh, lugging your suitcase forward. “We can share, whatever. It’s a King, right? You just keepto your side of the bed, and I’ll keep to mine.’

Nodding his head, Hoseok agrees. Sighing loudly, he collapses ontop of the bed, rolling around to irreparably rumple the sheets.

“Ugh,” hesays, burying his face in the pillows. “Good thing you said yes, Y/N, becausethis bed is amazing. What is this – silk?”

After eyeing him for a moment, Hoseok’s pert bottom in the air, you decided to give in and gingerly lower yourself to the mattress. Your previous reticence lasts only a moment before you exhale, star-fishing beside him.

“Oh,” you sigh, closing your eyes. “You’re100% right. This is the best.”

Hoseok laughs, the sound muffled from his pillow.“See?” he teases, turning his head. “I told you this would be fine.”

Arching a brow, you open your eyes to see him. “Okay, fine. Thisis pretty nice.”

A slow, lazy grin spreads over his face. “As nice asRicardo?”

“Oh my god.”

You swiftly squeeze your eyes shut.

Hoseok cracks up, the bed shaking with laughter as youcan’t help but scowl.

“I’m sorry!” Hoseok says, attemptingto stop. “Really, I am! I mean, kind of. I know I’m a poor substitute for your usual companion.”

“Why do you do that?” Opening your eyes, you flip sideways to face him. “Why are you always such a dick about how we met? Yes, I was meeting a male stripper. Lots of bachelorette parties have them! Why do you keep making this so… difficult?”

Hoseok falls silent during your outburst, his eyes a bit wide when he sees your annoyance. Slowly, he pushes himself up on an elbow.

“I…” He falters. “Shit, I’m sorry, Y/N. I didn’t realize my teasing upset you.”

Jaw tight, you search for an adequate response. It isn’t just that, although you can’t put a finger on what, exactly, it is.

“I – I’mnot upset,” you say, then shake your head. “Maybe I am. I don’t know. I’mconfused.”

At this, Hoseok smiles faintly. “Oh,” he says, only to pause. “I getthat. You see, I… Ah, fuck. No, I shouldn’t tell you that.”

Your curiosity grows as you twist on the bed. Curling both legsbeneath you, you arch a brow.

“What shouldn’t you tell me?” you ask, your voice oddly breathy.

Hoseok stares at you. “I just – okay. When wefirst met…” He trails off, glancing up at the ceiling. “I almost said yes… when you asked if I was the stripper.” When Hoseok looks at you, there’s no trace of a smile, which makes his next words all the more devastating.“It sounded… intriguing to me, if you were the buyer.”

The moment he speaks, heat surges through you. A dark pool of needbegins to curl between your thighs and you become all too aware of your breathing. Each inch of your skin feels electric and shit, you can seeit all in your mind. Hoseok slowly peeling off each piece of his clothing,keeping his gaze steady while lowering his knee to the bed and –

Shaking your head, you pull back from the image. “I – what?”you squeak, trying to regain control.

“See?” Hoseok gives a shaky laugh. “It’s embarrassing,right? This puts us on even footing, though. You thought I was a stripper and hey, I kindof wanted to strip for you.”

Despite his attempt to put things at ease, you can tellHoseok is more affected than he lets on. His pupils are dark, blown out and youfind yourself equally thrown. Rather than lessen the tension between you, it seems to have skyrocketed – and now you realize why Hoseok’s teasing bothers you so much. You like him.

And now you’re alone with him in the honeymoon suite, being forced toshare the same bed tonight. Without thinking about it, your tongue darts out to wet yourlower lip.

Hoseok zeroes in on the motion. “Y/N…” he murmurs, his voice heavy.

Your gaze slowly lifts. Before you can talk yourself out of it, you’re inching forward. Closing the distance between you, your hands reach for his body. Hoseok’s fists in your hair as your mouths slot together, lips slanting messily against yours.

With a grunt, he wedges his knee between yours as your chests touch. You groan, hands sliding down, searching the broad panes of his front. You feel lean, cordedmuscle beneath your fingers and sigh, pulling anxiously on the hem ofhis shirt to un-tuck from his jeans.

Hoseok is equally insistent, stroking your cheek with his thumbas his tongue enters your mouth. “I haven’t,” he breathes, rutting againstyou. “Been able… to stop… thinking… about this.”

“Me neither,” you confess, pressed to his lips.

You should slowdown; you need to slow down and savor each second of this. Grabbing his hips, you kiss Hoseok deeper.

Hoseok responds, slipping a hand to your neck as he molds himself to you. His hips roll against yours, letting you feel howcompetent, how capable he is. Your legs are like jelly, holding him close and his kisses turn insistent. It makes you restless,wanting more. Wanting him and you pull back, intending to say this when –

RIIING. RIIING.

The shrill sound of the room’s telephone cuts through the silence,forcing you and Hoseok to still on the bed. Your breathing is heavy, fingersdigging into each other but the phone rings again and you curse, twistingaround to grab for the device.

“Hello?” you breathe, pressing it to your ear.

“Y/N?” Anna sounds slightly hysterical. “Where are you?”

Behind you, Hoseok groans as he slowly rolls on his back. Softly,he murmurs, “fuck,” beneath his breath. The word precisely echoes your sentimentsabout the moment.

“In the honeymoon suite,” you say, drawing your legs underneathyou as you sit up. Your panties are damp as they stick to your thighs. Adjusting your shirt, you realize your hairis a mess. “Remember? I said I was going to put mysuitcase away.”

“Oh,” she says, calming a little. “Right, right. Listen,Y/N – I’m so sorry about the mix-up. I know you hate Hoseok, but it’s just for one night, right?”

Wincing, you stand from the bed and hope Hoseok didn’t hear. In the mirror, you spot him re-tucking his shirt in his pants. When he does stand, there’s an obvious erection concealed by his jeans. Fuck.The sight makes you weak enough to glance up at the ceiling.

“Yeah, it’s fine Anna,” you say, coaching your breathingto normal. “Don’t worry about it, honestly. This isn’t about me, or Hoseok.Just keep thinking about Yoongi, okay? I’ll be down in a minute.”

“Okay,” she says, sounding more relaxed than when you answered. “Okay,that sounds good. I’ll see you soon!”

When you do hang up, you stare at the receiver a moment while deciding what to do. Pointedly, Hoseok clears his throat to the side.

Turning around, you find him looking. His hair is messy where your fingers ran through itand fuck, do you find yourself wanting to kiss him again.

You swallow, realizing this is dangerous territory. Youneed to be on your best game this weekend; you need to be thinking about Anna andher happiness, not how fucking hot Hoseok would look with his pants unbuttonedand down by his ankles. You need to leave – now.

Making a sudden decision, you nod. “Well. See you at the rehearsal dinner!” you blurt, turningaround to high-tail it towards the door.

Hoseok seems stunned, saying nothing to you as you leave. When the door shuts between you, there is a second muffled, “fuck,” from Hoseok in a one-hour period.

Echoing his sentiments, youstand outside for a moment before you recover enough tostart towards the lobby.

Fuck, indeed.

[ drabble game is closed ]

#hoseok fanfic #bts fanfic #hoseok writing #bts writing #kpopfanfictrash drabble game 0419

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arthur-rex · 5 years ago

Text

ooc: fic/RP idea for a retelling of The Last Dragonlord

Strap yourselves in this is a long one… just didn’t know when/couldn’t stop with the overly detailed plotting! xD

Note: I saw the actual episode two days ago. That’s why it’s all quite vivid still in my mind ;)

So the story starts with Kilgharrah haunting Merlin’s dreams and telling him Camelot’s doom is at hand/the legacy of Uther Pendragon will be terrible to behold/his bloodline will be cursed forevermore for his acts against magic-kind. Merlin works out from this that Kilgharrah is dying and the dragon is invoking some sort of ancient powerful magic in the moment of his death. Merlin has failed to free him from his chains basically, and now the imprisoned dragon is getting his revenge through other means…

Flash forward to the next day. Merlin and Arthur are doing their usual things but Merlin notices Arthur being a bit more hungry haha not like that than usual. He’s also developed a bit of an itch to his skin that continually distracts him whilst training the knights. So he asks Merlin to draw him a bath that evening and while undressing Merlin notices shock horror the skin on Arthur’s back is literally peeling off! More sinister than this, it appears that something that looks suspiciously like golden scales lie underneath… Arthur asks Merlin what’s up and Merlin is just so horrified he literally plays dumb and tries not to panic, just focusses on getting Arthur ready for bed.

That whole night he’s at the books with Gaius, trying to make sense of the curse that Kilgharrah mentioned and what’s happening with Arthur. They come across some page in a book that tells them about possession/mad kings/the significance of the Pendragon line…

And it suddenly just clicks with Merlin oh shit Arthur’s turning into a dragon. Camelot’s Champion is turning into Camelot’s fiery destruction. What does this mean for his and Arthur’s supposed destiny together? What can he do to stop the curse? What will Uther do when he finds out what’s happening to his son??!

Gaius tries to calm down an obviously distraught Merlin at this point and advises that they try and bring Arthur discreetly to see him. Maybe some of Gaius’ potions and salves can slow down the transformation/buy them time until they can work out what to do.

Merlin finds Arthur in the morning completely freaking out. More of his skin is gone and this time Arthur has noticed. Arthur’s nails have also grown pretty sharp. He’s scratched and cut himself in a few places. Merlin realises Arthur’s a bit fragile mentally as he hasn’t got a clue what’s going on. Arthur asks Merlin if he’s turning into a monster. Merlin is of course stuck in a quandary, just as he was with Morgana. He can’t tell Arthur everything as that would reveal his magic, but he also doesn’t like to see his friend so upset. He suggest they quietly go to seek Gaius’ help. At various points during their dialogue, Arthur starts to lose his temper with the whole situation. He shouts into Merlin’s face for being so damn calm about it all and then unexpectedly a gust of flame and smoke almost sets Merlin’s hair on fire! Arthur shuts his mouth pretty quickly, absolutely mortified. Merlin just doesn’t even know what to say. Arthur tells Merlin his father mustn’t know. Uther must never ever know. Merlin agrees.

They go back to Gaius who’s been preparing some herbal salve to put on Arthur’s cracking skin. There are more gold scales everywhere now and Merlin doesn’t know how much time they have. Worringly, Arthur has started to mutter a strange language under his breath - seemingly trying to fight some sort of strange magic that is taking him over. When Arthur goes to sleep (Gaius gives him some sleeping draught to help him along), Gaius tells Merlin about the Dragonlords and Balinor and tells him if anyone knows of a way to break the curse, Balinor will. He also advises Merlin that whatever might become of Arthur out of this, hard decisions might have to be made and Merlin could possibly be forced to reveal the secret of his magic with Arthur in order to save him. Merlin is torn, fearful of the consequences while Uther is still king.

So then the next day in the early hours of morning Merlin and Arthur saddle up on their horses and head out to seek Balinor. Merlin is trying to be cheerful but Arthur feels dreadful. They have had to cover him now with a huge cloak as his face is beginning to change. He’s growing horns. His mood swings are also turning more violent and unstable. He keeps slipping into the dragon language when his mind wanders and Merlin has to do everything to stop that happening. Every night when he sleeps Arthur dreams of Camelot burning and hears whispers of the Great Dragon telling him this is his destiny and when he wakes up panting and scared shitless his eyes have turned golden and his pupils have become slitted like a dragon’s. As they near to finding Balinor, a worn out Arthur takes Merlin to one side for The Talk. The Talk consists of Arthur basically giving Merlin his sword and saying to Merlin. Hey look. If this mission to find a cure spectacularly backfires, you’re going to have to kill me with this sword if I’m no longer able to do it myself. Merlin looks at it and says he can’t but Arthur makes him promise. Merlin reluctantly agrees. Arthur tells Merlin to tell Gwen he loves her, if when the time comes he cannot.

They find Balinor like in the episode and Arthur’s getting really edgy but Merlin just sticks with the plan and tells Balinor his friend is really sick and needs help. A group of mercenaries appear at this point and attack the three having heard a tipoff from the tavern that strange beasts were abroad that needed slaying. This action pushes Arthur into savage beast mode(!) and as this overlarge human dragon hybrid he swipes his claws and lashing his tail at them. He kills the mercenaries and saves Merlin and Balinor but at a cost as the transformation really starts to set in and Arthur starts to lose grip of his consciousness due to the strain of resisting the effects of the change/losing his identity. He doesn’t even get a chance to tell Merlin to kill him before he’s out unconscious.

Merlin and Balinor then carry Arthur together back to Balinor’s cave where they have their little chat and Merlin asks Balinor if there is a way to reverse the effects. Balinor is a bit ‘no comment’ on this and questions why Merlin would want to stop a young dragon from coming into the world. A changeling of this kind is extremely rare, or else this is a person of royal blood under a curse. Merlin goes a bit tight-lipped after that and Balinor eventually works out this must be Arthur Pendragon with him. Feeling vindictive, Balinor says it serves Uther right, for all he did to destroy the Dragonlord people and outlaw magic in the kingdom. It’s nothing more than delicious irony that his son and heir will destroy the kingdom his father created. Merlin counters that this isn’t about Uther, this is about Arthur, and that it shouldn’t have to be the son that suffers for the sins of the father. Balinor hesitates, but he says that although he bears no ill will towards Arthur this has clearly been chosen as his destiny and he can’t avoid it. Merlin (who knows that Balinor is his father thanks to Gaius telling him) makes the sort of vague comments he does to try and make Balinor realise he is his son - they discuss Uther’s purge, Ealdor, and what all this might mean if dragon!Arthur simply burns it all down. Merlin asks one last time if Balinor will help him. Balinor refuses once more.

Merlin leaves the cave deeply upset. He picks up the sword and remembers his promise to his friend. He’s going to have to kill Arthur. Grimly resolved he goes back into the cave to do The Deed, but only to discover that Arthur has awoken and although he still looks very dragon-ish he appears to have regained command of his mental faculties. Balinor seems to imply that Arthur and he have ‘struck up a friendship’. Merlin is a bit confused/suspicious of this but realises perhaps this means Balinor does know of a way to restore Arthur to his normal self. Balinor agrees to go with them to Camelot, implying that if they travel to the place where the original dragon enacted the curse they might be able to reverse its effects.

On the way back to Camelot, Balinor and Merlin have a further chat which culminates with Merlin telling Balinor he is his son (like in the episode). Balinor is shocked, humbled, and immediately proud of his boy (as he is in the episode). He begins to tell Merlin all will be well now, the power to save Merlin’s friend has been inside him all this time, but suddenly they are stopped by patrols of Camelot’s knights. In the days since Arthur and Merlin snuck out of Camelot on their mission, Uther has set up a mega operation to find Arthur and kill/take prisoner those who dare thought to kidnap his son. Balinor and Merlin try their best to conceal Arthur but someone gets the cloak off him. By this point Arthur’s original features have been twisted so much he isn’t easily recognisable as himself, and the knights all draw their swords to slay the monster. Arthur becomes highly distressed to see his former knights and friends turning on him and this sadness melts into anger which of course triggers the full onslaught of the curse and Arthur pretty much metamorphoses all the way into a large golden dragon (about ¾ the size of Kilgarrah). Driven by the madness of his curse, he burns most of the knights alive before flying off towards Camelot. Presumably to enact his ‘destiny.’

In the wake of the destruction, Merlin emerges to find Balinor horrifically scarred by the dragon fire. He’s been burned within an inch of his life, and he is dying. He and Merlin have a final chat where Balinor tells Merlin he was right. Arthur should not have to suffer for the sake of his hatred of Uther. He then shares his secret with Merlin, that he as the last Dragonlord is able to speak to dragons and thereby tame them. He says Merlin as his son has this power too, and he must find Arthur and tell him who’s boss calm him and bring out the best in the beast. Balinor then dies.

Merlin travels on to Camelot by himself. Arriving outside its gates he finds the city already burning. It looks exactly as Arthur described to Merlin in his earlier nightmares. He fears for Gaius and Gwen, but he knows he’s got to find and subdue dragon!Arthur first. He tries to get the dragon’s attention by riding round a horse and shouting up at it. He avoids using magic initially and outright, as he still harbours this deep sense of shame for hiding it from Arthur all this time and revealing his magic now and using it offensively against him would just hurt/piss off his best friend more. Merlin then has An Idea. He searches for Gwen and takes her with him to the green clearing, thinking that Arthur’s feelings for Gwen will draw the dragon to them. It does.

Dragon!Arthur arrives and lands near to the two of them, looking very interested with Gwen (she’s absolutely petrified - Merlin hasn’t really told her everything that’s going on does he ever). Noticing Gwen is frightened by his appearance, dragon!Arthur gets very agitated and beats his wings, roaring/etc. Gwen gets thrown on the ground in the commotion, banging her head against something and falling still. Meanwhile, Merlin has his inner Dragonlord awakening moment, and finally speaks the language of dragons.

He calms dragon!Arthur until he settles on the ground, utterly docile. Then Merlin notices the dragon is crying. He’s looking at Gwen’s motionless body. And he’s looking back at Merlin. Merlin senses Arthur’s pain. He thinks he’s killed his girlfriend, he’s destroyed half of Camelot and he’s feeling upset/shocked/betrayed by Merlin, who (although he’s managed to stop his crazed rampaging) has been keeping his powers secret from him all this time. Merlin reaches out and touches Arthur’s snout to console him. Then he goes over to Gwen. He finds she’s still alive, but desperately needs Gaius’ aid. He asks dragon!Arthur to fly them all back to the castle. They ride on Arthur’s back up to the Keep.

Once Gwen is safely in Gaius’ care, a whole legion of knights with Uther among them spills out onto the courtyard. The sight of Uther causes the deep well of poison in the curse to flare up again in Arthur, and it looks like the dragon is going to murder the king. But Merlin places his hand on the dragon’s side again and calms him. A few of the knights fire arrows at dragon!Arthur and Merlin. Aware that Merlin wishes to keep his magic secret from people who know him, Arthur shields the warlock with his wings before picking him up in his claws, carrying him away.

They land outside the castle. Merlin comforts dragon!Arthur as best he can. He can sense Arthur’s despair in his head. He’s tormented by what he’s done to the knights and people of Camelot as a dragon and believes he’s going to be stuck as a monster for the rest of his life. He’s lost his home, family, friends. Everything of his past life. Merlin reminds Arthur of what Balinor said about returning to the place where the original dragon cast the curse in order to revoke it. He tells Arthur to not give up hope.

They travel together deep underground into the pit where Uther chained Kilgharrah. There they find the crumbling bones of the deceased dragon and the heavy chains that have fallen away, and are lying open. Merlin pauses, unsure what they are meant to do. It takes a few moments, but dragon!Arthur eventually realises what must be done (he can feel/hear the ancient magic of the Old Religion speak to him while he is a dragon) and nudges at Merlin to do it. When Merlin realises via their telepathic link, he disagrees - no, no, no there must be another way! - but Arthur knows there isn’t.

To break the curse on their bloodline, the son of Pendragon must suffer to be chained as Uther had imprisoned and persecuted those with magic before. The deep wrongs perpetuated against magic kind must be atoned for.

So dragon!Arthur submits to Merlin casting the enchantments to bind him to the rock where Kilgharrah was once chained. Merlin asks Arthur why go through with this? If it means he can never be free - what point is there in breaking the curse?

Dragon!Arthur speaks, and for the first time it’s not in Merlin’s mind but spoken out loud like a proper Great Dragon can speak. He wishes to right the wrongs of his father. As a dragon he has witnessed first hand how those that are magical are hated and hunted down, through no fault of their own but simply for being. He wishes for a future society of kindness and that the intolerance his father perpetuated be locked away underground and never be seen again. Merlin tells him he’s being a pompous self-sacrificing arse. Dragon!Arthur merely laughs and threatens to burn Merlin’s hair again if he disobeys. As Merlin wipes his nose on his sleeve and leaves his friend chained in the darkness, he tells him he’ll visit everyday. Dragon!Arthur just tells Merlin to have a life of his own for once, and to tell Gwen he loves her.

Flash forward to a few months into the future. Uther Pendragon, the King of Camelot, has fallen ill to a strange wasting illness. He’s literally dying, becoming more and more (metaphorically) chained to his bed as each days passes and his strength fails. The king’s ill health leads to civil unrest in the kingdom with rival factions warring over the succession to the throne. It’s all the besieged Knights can do to keep the peace. Prince Arthur has not been seen for months. He is presumed to be dead, although some blond men pretending to be Arthur keep miraculously popping up to try and claim their supposed ‘birthright’ to the throne. It both really hurts and pisses Merlin off.

Anyway, when Uther finally dies, Merlin senses a seismic shift in magic around him. Hardly daring to analyse what this means, he runs downstairs deep underground to the lair where his friend lies in the darkness in chains.

Dragon!Arthur is not there. Instead there is simply a large egg. And a blond, naked man lying in the dust curled around it. Pretty much like Daenerys from GOT in that scene

Merlin runs over and grabs his friend in a tearful hug and a shivering Arthur goes “hey I’m naked and cold, give me something to wear.” They have their moment and then Merlin tells Arthur all the latest news in Camelot. Arthur grieves the passing of his father. But then he picks up the dragon egg in his arms, and for a fleeting moment, feels the young (Pen)dragon inside moving. And he is reminded that life goes on.

The two then carry the egg with them back into Camelot, where Arthur will claim his throne, usher magic back to the kingdom and become the first royal in over a thousand years to hatch a dragon egg (with a bit of help from his court sorcerer). They call the baby dragon Kilgharrah in honour of his grandfather and he grows to become Protector of the Realm.

And there you have it.

I call this monstrosity of an AU “The Last Dragonlord and his (Pen)Dragon. Note: I am sorry if many of the ideas in this fic are cheesy as sin and/or badly abused tropes. I am so sorry.

#ooc #//wow that one got out of hand #S2E13: The Last Dragonlord #Merlin RP #BBC Merlin #Dragonlord!AU #The Last Dragonlord #dragon!Arthur #v. the last dragonlord & his (pen)dragon

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blasphemings · 6 years ago

Text

the world reversed

you are drawing near to something that marks the end of a journey or an era. you may have many accomplishments that have lined your path, but there is a strange emptiness that fills you when you look backwards upon it, as if you have all the pieces but they are not coming together. what is missing? do you feel connected to what you're doing? do you feel connected to others? what alienates you from feeling complete? from feeling whole?

- Labrynthos, Major Arcana Tarot Card Meanings

I’m not sure anymore.

Stopping time always felt as though he were trying to push a particularly heavy rock off a ledge; suddenly whatever it was that pushed back against the weight he threw against it was gone, and he felt he was at risk of tipping over the edge himself with the momentum. He never had, but he had often wondered what would happen if he let himself fall.

What do I do when I’m not sure?

Carefully freeing his coat from Koichi’s frozen fist, Jotaro took a step towards the bloodied man and his catlike stand. One moment his finger hovered above an invisible trigger, the next it was snapped back at an angle that left nothing to the imagination as to whether or not that trigger would ever be pressed again.

Violence such as this had once been second nature, and it wasn’t as though he wondered whether or not he was doing the right thing, or that it was difficult on a practical level; what often stopped him was that every time his fist hit the solid resistance of a body he could not help but remember.

What if I hit the end and I look it in the eyes and I don’t know if I can?

They were all alive. It was more than he had been foolish enough to expect. Josuke was certainly headed for the hospital, but he would survive it. All the children would.

Children younger even than he and Noriaki had been. When he looked down at them, he saw their faces contorted in rage and pain far deeper than anything a child of that age should ever need context for. It was familiar. It was sickening.

Tell me what you do.

It wasn’t fair. It was a curse, to have youth ripped away like that. Even if you were the one who lived.

Jotaro stared down at Kira, who he remembered being blond, having a different face. He remembered that he had punched a hole through Koichi, through the school uniform that was painfully familiar, one that he had seen bloodied in such a way once before. He remembered the cold feeling in his chest, returning with full force after over ten years, and for a moment in his pain and rage he had blinked and seen a much lankier boy falling to the concrete, pale red hair stained as if with dye rather than blood.

I thought about you, of course.

The problem with stopped time was the completeness of the silence within it. The problem was his memory of the first time, how the sudden quiet had allowed the ringing in his ears to reach a fever pitch, how he had only realized what had happened as soon as the chaos froze in place long enough for him to look up.

Tell me what to do.

“I made it in time,” he murmured, the reassurance half for his own benefit, but it only brought back the old pit in his stomach, the feeling that had not truly left him since he had found himself staring up at drops falling from a water tower in Egypt a decade ago and knowing with feverish certainty that he had finally been too late. I didn’t make it in time.

It’s always just about you, isn’t it?

It shouldn’t be so hard to finish winning a fight. It shouldn’t be so hard for him to finish winning a fight. It wasn’t as though he were still eighteen years old, shell-shocked and refusing to even bring out the Star for years following, disgusted with it and with himself for what he knew it to be capable of, for lifting the ability that had killed Kakyoin from Dio like a hunter severing the antlered head of a stag.

It was no trophy he wanted and it was not one he could cast away. He had come to terms with that, eventually.

It’s never only you.

A drop of blood hung in midair, hardly noticeable beyond the already present carnage, but Jotaro was not blessed with the luxury of failing to notice much of anything at all. The blood was his own. He had clenched his fists hard enough to draw it.

When you can’t be sure of yourself, be sure of us instead.

He closed his eyes. He took a deep breath.

Can you do that for me?

“Kakyoin.”

He opened his eyes. “Mm?”

Jotaro cursed himself silently. “Sorry, I—you were asleep.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Kakyoin shifted, raising his head slightly from where it rested against Jotaro’s knee. “What’s wrong?”

“What makes you—”

“Know that tone.”

When he remained silent, Kakyoin sighed and dropped his head back down. “It’s okay,” he mumbled sleepily. “It’s okay.”

“I’m not sure anymore.”

Jotaro stared into the fire, listening to the soft snoring of the dog perched on Avdol’s chest. There was sand on his sleeping bag left behind by the last gust of wind. He wondered if Avdol would care.

“What do I do when I’m not sure?” He spoke uncharacteristically quickly, as though afraid of losing his nerve. “What if I hit the end and I look it in the eyes and I don’t know if I can?”

Kakyoin hesitated, then pushed himself to his feet in a sudden, fluid movement, and for a moment Jotaro wondered if he were about to walk away entirely, but he simply sat down again beside him, now at what was more or less eye level, or what would have been were Jotaro inclined to meet his.

“Are you scared?”

His voice was gentle enough to make Jotaro feel like screaming.

“Yes. No. I—I don’t know.” He swallowed. “Tell me what you do.”

Kakyoin raised his eyebrows. “Me?”

Jotaro nodded, still unable to look at him.

“The last time I was really uncertain…” He fell silent, considering. “When I was—in that dream? I thought about you, of course.”

The flames reflected in his eyes made them appear almost glassy, as though they were filled with tears.

Jotaro narrowed his eyes. “Dream?”

“I—yes, it—it isn’t important.” He shook his head. “I want…tell me what you’re afraid of.”

“I’m not scared…”

“Jotaro.”

“I don’t know. I don’t!” he insisted, cringing under the heat of Kakyoin’s glare. “I can’t fill my lungs up all the way when I think about it. Makes me feel like hitting something.”

When he thought about it later, after the dust had settled on his memory of that night, he would realize that it was the first time anyone but his mother had held his hand. Kakyoin’s skin was cool and dry, his grip surprisingly tight. Maybe it was as simple as him having wordlessly understood how badly Jotaro needed to be anchored. He stayed quiet until the hand he held stopped shaking.

“You’re just human,” Kakyoin said softly. “You’re nothing else. You can feel that.”

He shook his head. “No, I—I’m worried that when it really matters I won’t be fast enough.”

“It’s always just about you, isn’t it?”

It wasn’t rare to see Kakyoin irritated, but the way he bit down on the end of the sentence as though he regretted letting it free suggested that his frustration ran deeper than Jotaro had been led to believe. Kakyoin stared down at the sand, knowing how easy it would be to see through the look that must be in his eyes.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Jotaro said carefully, giving up on reading him.

“You act like—I know, listen, I know what a burden this is for you, but you—you act like you’re the only one here. You act like there’s no one else in the world, sometimes.”

He looked away. “It’s my responsibility.”

“Jotaro…” Kakyoin rubbed at his eyes with the back of his free hand. “Do you really think everything we’ve been fighting towards rests on whether you can do it or not? And not the rest of us? Don’t you think we have to be ready too?”

“I would prefer,” he said, nearly as sharp as Kakyoin, “that you didn’t need to be.”

“That’s not your choice. That was never your choice.”

Jotaro took a deep breath. “You’ve already put yourselves—”

“Oh, will you just shut up?” Kakyoin turned and caught Jotaro’s other hand in his own, holding them together to calm the new trembling. Even now, he tried to hide it; hands in his pockets, clenched fists, anything he needed in order to keep them from seeing all that shaking. Useless, of course. He had always known Jotaro was afraid.

He opened his mouth and closed it, seeming, for once, to be allowing himself a moment of uncertainty.

“It’s never only you,” Kakyoin said. “It never will be.”

They stared at one another, firelight flickering across their eyes as the horizon began to bleach a pale lavender.

“You know,” Jotaro said slowly, half to himself. “I don’t think…no one has ever believed in me like you do.”

“When you can’t be sure of yourself, be sure of us instead.” Kakyoin squeezed both his hands. “Can you do that for me?”

I’ll finish what you started.

Reverse fate, achieve an impossible victory in the name of another. That was all the World was to Jotaro. It had been a long time since he had finished someone else’s war.

Rohan. Koichi. Okuyasu. Hayato. Josuke.

Their fight had become his the moment it became impossible for them to finish it, but the dreaded burning behind his eyes told him that the anger was entirely his own, and faces that did not belong to this moment came back to him, as they always did when he forced himself to once more become to others what he had been to them.

Avdol. Iggy.

A show of force, or maybe just strength. Maybe every time he fought for them it was just another flower laid on the grave, another memorial, another expression of heartbroken gratitude doomed never to be heard. He didn’t know what he would have said. He didn’t know how he would have said it.

Kakyoin.

His rage that night had been laced with despair, knowing that no matter what he did to Dio, it would never be anything more than vengeance. Fighting to avenge rather than protect was a nightmare he sometimes felt he had never quite broken free of. He had, as he had always feared, been too late.

You’re not too late.

He thought of Joseph. He thought of Polnareff.

He thought of Jolyne.

You’re not done yet.

Jotaro opened his eyes, and the Star began to scream.

#jjba #jotaro kujo #kakyoin noriaki #jotakak #stardust crusaders #diamond is unbreakable #well ladies and gays here it is

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dontreadthistrashgarbage · 6 years ago

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G O T 7 PT.6

A couple days passed and Guerin met JB for the open mic night. She was a good ten minutes early but he was already at the quaint coffee shop, seated in a hidden corner booth. As soon as he saw her, he beckoned her over, gesturing at the drinks he had already ordered.

"You didn't have to get me something." She said, wandering over to him.

He shrugged, and patted the seat next to him for her to slide in. She hesitated for a moment. "It's so we can both see the stage." He explained.

"We'll look like a couple..." Guerin said, uncharacteristically shy, but she still slid into the booth next to him.

He shrugged again, "So?"

She puffed her cheeks out slightly, feeling awkward before covering it up with a sip from the iced americano he had bought for her, "Thank you for the drink." She said, setting it down. She couldn't help but be hyper aware of him while he was so close to her, but it helped she didn't have to look directly at him. JB was easily one of the most beautiful people she had ever seen and today was like putting a magnifying glass on that fact. He was wearing a black dress shirt, more buttons than necessary undone under a stylishly patterned blazer. His hair looked freshly cut and styled. She felt even more strange appreciating this side of him after Jackson's confession and her promise to consider it.

"You look nice." He said after a few more moments of awkward silence and Guerin realized she had been looking at him despite being relieved she didn't need to. She started and looked straight ahead as though it would undo her being caught. "I like the orange lipstick." JB's voice gave away his smile of amusement.

Guerin chided herself for being so weird. There was no reason for her to feel conflicted. They were friends and had spent a lot of time together already. Why would this now feel like such a date? She inhaled and fell back on old habits.

"Thanks." She puckered her lips and poked her cheek with a wink. "It's one of my favorites, and it matches my sassy shirt and neon shoes." Guerin showed off her favorite shoes.

JB gave a close lipped smile at the dorky response, trying not to laugh outloud, "How old are you again?"

"Old enough that you better respect me." She bumped him with her shoulder making him laugh, "and here I was going to say how nice you looked too." Her sass turned to a small sulk.

"I'm sorry." He said respectfully and bowed as much as he could in the small space.

"Oh god no stop that." She laughed and pushed him again, wondering in the back of why she felt so aware of each time she made physical contact with him.

JB looked up at her with a smirk and amusement in his eyes before straightening up and dropping the gag.

"What are you singing tonight?" Guerin changed the subject, focusing her gaze back on her coffee as she took another sip from it.

"A couple new songs. Each performer can sing up to three. I actually just finished one today. It's called Rainy." He answered.

"Appropriate." She nodded, referencing the weather outside. Since her walk with Jackson it had been raining on and off for days now. JB nodded along with her. The two sank into a comfortable silence, lost in their own thoughts. The booths at this particular shop were somewhat oversized and cushy, an oddity for Korea. It enabled Guerin to relax and cross her legs under her as she took in the decorations. JB was sitting in his signature slouch, one leg crossed over the other as he toyed with the straw in his drink.

The performances started, JB was much more critical and sparing of his responses but Guerin openly enjoyed most of the songs each artist played. She found something positive about each song, sharing with JB at the end and asking for his input. He couldn't help but appreciate her enthusiasm.

"I don't have any creative talent or skill of my own, but I am an avid consumer of art." Guerin explained between sets when he voiced his opinion on her perspective, "Each one of these people is working hard and improving. It does so much more to bolster creativity and exploration if they're encouraged rather than constantly corrected or told they're failing."

JB cocked his head, "Most successful artists I know where trained very harshly."

"Sure, there's people who survive the process but think of all the talented people who gave up because their learning style wasn't catered to. Just like the animal training we've talked about, you get more successes with patience and kindness than you do with punishment. The people who are successful are that way in spite of the harsh teaching methods, rather than because of them. In the meantime we lose out on so much potential art. So I just... do what I can to encourage it." She trailed off with a shrug realizing she was lecturing. JB was looking at her with a thoughtful tilt to his head.

"Sorry, I'm rambling." Guerin let out an embarrassed laugh and looked away self consciously. If JB was planning on saying anything he was unable to as the next artist started up. Finally JB was up as the last performer of the evening. Guerin let him out of the booth and he grabbed his keyboard case from the bench across the booth from them. As he set up Guerin checked her phone, responded to a couple texts from Charlie and Jackson. She felt a pang of guilt again thinking of Jackson but buried it quickly. -I have nothing to feel guilty about- she reminded herself as she put her phone away.

JB's two song set left her breathless. As he performed he rarely made eye contact with anyone, even closing his eyes for a good portion of the time. When he did look up it tended to be in her direction and those moments stopped her heart. Guerin had to physically stop herself from clutching the front of her shirt defensively. His first song was Be With You. Its sweet lyrics and melody made her smile without realizing. It was a direct contradiction to his second song, Rainy. The song was close to perfection and his performance clinched it. Guerin was fighting off tears, cursing her eye makeup silently as she dabbed at her eyes with a spare napkin.

"Why are you crying?" Asked a surprised JB. He had seen her and moved quickly to her side, squatting next to her at the end of the table.

Another embarrassed laugh escaped her, sounding a bit water logged this time, "I'm sorry, this is nothing. That was just a really good song." She took a shaky breath and straightened up, smiling through watery eyes, "They were both excellent, but Rainy got me good." She laughed again.

"Noona, don't cry." JB said serious but tinged with his natural cuteness as he appealed to her. He used the extra long sleeves of his shirt to dab at the neglected tears that threatened to spill.

She laughed again, shaking her head, "No it's a good thing. I really liked it." JB dropped his hand from her face as the tears slowed, still looking somewhat concerned as he stared at her. "You're drawing attention to me." Guerin scolded, covering half her face with the hand holding the napkin, "Go pack your stuff up and greet your fans." She insisted, pushing his shoulder lightly. He hesitated so she gestured again, "I'm fine I promise, hurry hurry."

JB did as she said, glancing over at her as he packed, catching her using her phone to check her appearance. He didn't realize she would cry and he felt bad. Guerin certainly emoted her way through life and he couldn't help but find it fascinating and endearing. He finished putting away his keyboard and stared down at it for a moment wondering what to do now. He needed the evening to continue.

The cafe staff was announcing closing and putting away the equipment around him. A few patrons and fellow performers, both familiar and new, came up to chat with him. He stayed as long as was polite before excusing himself back to the patiently waiting Guerin.

"I thought you'd still be crying." He teased.

"I'm soft and weak. I cry all the time. I exist in a perpetual state of holding back." She stuck her tongue out at him and he laughed.

"Let's go for a walk, since the rain stopped." JB suggested suddenly.

"Sure." Guerin agreed with minimal thought.

"I just need to drop this at my studio." JB hefted the keyboard case and Guerin nodded as the two headed out, thanking the staff as they left. JB was a regular, and even chose his personal studio location because it was just around the corner. Once empty handed, the two wandered aimlessly. They stopped at a convenience store and picked out a few beers to share.

"The lyrics you sing in english for Rainy I find incredible." Guerin gushed. The topic had turned back to his performance, "When you say 'I love you alone' it's such an interesting way to express one sided love, or a doomed love?" She mused, looking at him, expecting an answer.

"Thank you." JB responded simply instead, flattered with her praise but unfocused. Guerin pressed her lips together thoughtfully, watching him before her gaze caught something behind him.

"Oh, JB!" She was so excited she grabbed his long sleeve peaking out from under his blazer.

"What?" He asked, startled, eyes wide as he looked at her and looked around.

"Swings! Let's go!" She cut past him, still holding his sleeve and forcing him along with her.

"Seriously? How old are you?" He asked again, rolling his eyes.

"Depends on the situation." She quipped, not bothering with sass this time. "Right now I'm whatever age it is appropriate to be happy about swings."

"You startled me. I thought something bad happened." JB chastised her but still didn't pull out of her grasp.

"Aww, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you." She looked back at him with an exaggerated apologetic expression. He sucked air through his teeth and cocked his head, making her giggle with his feigned disapproval, "I'll buy you a drink to make up for it." She promised as they reached the swings, only then releasing his sleeve as she sat on one of the two swings.

JB set their bag next to him, pulled out two beers and sank down on the second swing, handing one of the beers to Guerin who was already starting to swing gently.

"I wrote that lyric thinking I had to give up on a love." JB answered suddenly, cracking his beer open and taking a sip.

Guerin paused, taking a moment to piece together the sudden change in topic before figuring it out, "You mean from Rainy?"

JB nodded.

Guerin looked thoughtful, swinging gently again, this time from side to side, "Did you pair it with Be With You because you were telling a story?"

JB nodded again.

"Did someone hurt you? Do I need to fight someone?" She shook her fist and JB laughed at the unexpected mood shift.

"No, I wouldn't say someone hurt me. I think I did most of the hurting." His smile faded and became more forced.

Guerin let him have his thoughts for a few moments, drinking more of her beer before speaking again, "Do you want to talk about it?" She asked.

JB hesitated then nodded a third time. She waited and the two continued drinking in silence.

"There's someone I like a lot. I wrote Be With You inspired by our time together. Then someone close and precious to me said that they liked her too." He started. Guerin nodded as he spoke, offering quiet sympathetic sounds as he continued, "I thought it would be best for everyone if I just let it go. No one knew my feelings except me." He sighed and stopped again, pressing his lips together and casting his gaze to the treetops.

"I thought I needed to withdraw and instead it made me seem distant which was hurtful, then it made me angry and I lashed out which was even worse."

Guerin had gone completely quiet and still as he told the story, convincing herself that this story was becoming more familiar by coincidence.

"I told my friend the truth. I told him I couldn't give up without trying, that I had to tell the truth. Even though I accidentally already did." JB looked sheepish, "I remember going to your house Guerin. I remember what I said. It was vague enough to play off. I let you believe I didn't remember. I'm sorry I deceived you. But I wanted to do this right." JB was looking at Guerin. Her gaze met his, still in disbelief as she switched her gaze between his eyes. Her face felt tingly and her chest tight, like she couldn't catch her breath.

"Do what?" She asked tightly.

"Those songs were inspired by you. By us. I like being with you, I want more. Rainy was me trying to deny my feelings and I don't want that song to be true."

JB stared into Guerin's eyes for a beat. His expression was genuine and serious. The only hint of nerves was the swallow he gave before licking his lips and saying the words he had been saving.

"Go Guerin, I like you."

Her mouth opened and closed as she blinked, eyes flicking around while she tried to process this unexpected turn of events. She managed a strangled laugh, "I'm sorry, I'm not laughing at you. It's just. I'm so surprised. And the timing?" She laughed the strange laugh again.

"Timing?" JB asked, curiously.

"Uh, is Jackson the friend you were talking about?" Guerin asked and JB nodded, "He also confessed before he left for China."

JB looked surprised, "I thought he would have said something if you two were dating."

"He probably would have. If we were dating." Guerin said somewhat guiltily.

"Did you reject him?" JB still sounded surprised but a little hope peeked through.

"No... he told me to think about it... he said I should answer him when he gets back." She exhaled, still feeling guilty.

"Good." JB said, Guerin glanced at him questioningly, "I mean... do you have an answer for me?" He asked.

Guerin felt bad, he must have been anxious that whole tangent but she still was processing the information, "I... I... JB..." Making words was suddenly the most difficult challenge to overcome. Of course she liked JB. He matched her introverted qualities, he was talented, funny, cute and sexy in the worst way. She also liked Jackson, despite her reservations, and it's not like she didn't have reservations for JB too. He was working on his anger and while he seemed to be doing well according to those who had known him a while, what would happen if they spent more time together?

Guerin must have been quiet longer than she intended because JB spoke up again, "You don't have to answer now. Take your time to think about it." JB shrugged, probably intending to seem nonchalant but looking stiff.

"Thank you." She said quietly. "I'm sorry to make you wait." She apologized as JB finished his drink and he shook his head.

"I got to take my time to figure out this. You should take your time to respond." He reassured her, "I'd be lying if I said I'm not disappointed it isn't an immediate yes." He shot her a wry smile.

Guerin stood, walking over and picking up their bag taking his empty can along with hers and switching them for full ones. "Come on, let's go get a late night snack." She handed him the new drink. He stood and walked along with her. Despite the silence neither of them felt awkward. The mood was pensive but a bit relieved. As they headed toward the busier city area JB took the bag Guerin was carrying between them. He bit his lip, looking straight ahead and trying to stay cool before clearing his throat and speaking.

"Would it be okay if I held your hand?"

Guerin fought back her grin at his adorable and respectful request that he very clearly was trying to maintain a chic demeanor for. Instead of answering verbally, she stepped in closer to him and took his hand in her own, lacing their fingers together. Both of them smiled without looking at each other.

"What do you want to eat?" JB asked after a few paces.

"Tteokbokki." Guerin answered decisively with a single big nod.

JB swung her hand back and forth with his gently, "Okay. I know a place nearby. My treat."

"No, you already got coffee." Guerin protested.

He shrugged and kept walking until she tugged his hand for attention and stopped in her tracks. JB faced her as she pouted at him and he laughed, "Fine, you can get drinks." He walked backwards, leading her along again.

"Deal." She tapped her beer against his, held in the same hand as their bag and took a deep pull, "But don't get drunk and confess again. Twice is enough for me to get the point." She avoided eye contact with him to prevent herself from bursting out into laughter.

"Ya..." He said in disbelief, now it was her turn to pull him along as he stopped and stared after her. Guerin's lack of poker face won out and she let out her typical loud laugh.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't resist, I'm sorry. Come on let's go." She said between chuckles.

He feigned being hurt but fell into step beside her as the two continued their trek, still hand in hand.

Mark didn't look up from the computer screen when the seat next to him was pulled out and someone settled into it. He knew Jinyoung would be coming since they had texted earlier. Jinyoung wanted wanted to meet up and said he would go to Mark. He stayed focused on the game since, well, he WAS a gamer, but also partially because a part of him wanted to avoid the conversation. Too soon the round ended with him losing. He exhaled and leaned his head back against the headrest, closing his eyes for a few moments before reaching up to remove his headphones and turning to Jinyoung patiently waiting next to him.

"Hi, Hyung." Jinyoung greeted the older man.

"Hi Jinyoung-ah." Mark greeted in return, "You distracted me so I lost."

Jinyoung looked amused, "You didn't look distracted. You didn't even seem to notice me arriving."

Mark shrugged, not really feeling the small talk. Jinyoung waited a few beats before changing the subject. "I'll get to the point. Charlie-ssi and I are dating now."

Mark glanced at his dongsaeng from the corner of his eye before looking straight ahead and nodded slowly a couple times. "Okay."

"I wanted to tell you in person." Jinyoung said seriously.

"Okay." Mark said again. His expression was masked but Jinyoung knew him well enough that he recognized the clear displeasure.

"I... suspected that you also had feelings for Charlie. That's why I wanted to tell you." He added.

"You know..." Mark started and tilted his head in annoyance, "You are making this gesture of kindness after you already disrespected me. I find it almost more annoying."

"You mean when I insisted on walking Charlie home." Jinyoung said. It wasn't a question.

Mark nodded.

"I'm sorry hyung." Jinyoung said genuinely.

"Bullshit." Mark verbally sniped the apology, "You admit you knew how I felt, you pushed me out and now you're here telling me that it all paid off and expect me to believe you're sorry?"

Jinyoung went quiet for a moment before speaking again, "I can see why it might be hard to believe... hyung please believe me, my intention wasn't to upset you. I insisted on walking her home because that had been my plan all along. I had made the decision to confess and I didn't want to have to stress over it again. I should have taken your feelings into consideration and I didn't. My thoughtlessness hurt you, but that wasn't what I wanted. I'm sorry."

Mark clicked through a few screens after Jinyoung finished talked, hitting the mouse and keyboard buttons a bit harder than necessary before sighing again and leaning back. "What's done is done." Mark said frankly, "I'll accept it. But for now I need to be mad. So go away or it'll just get worse."

Jinyoung hesitated, wanting more but knowing Mark well enough to not push him when he was so close to the brink of anger already. With a sigh he stood, adjusting his long tan coat back into place and turning to go.

"Jinyoungie." Mark said suddenly, "Don't give her a reason to leave, cause if she needs one I'll be there. You owe me that."

Jinyoung looked down at Mark, "If I give her a reason to leave I'd prefer that option over any other." He chafed at the idea of losing Charlie, but in that undesirable scenario at least Mark would be happy. Mark started to put his headphones back on but Jinyoung quickly spoke up again, "Hyung, will we be okay?"

Mark looked annoyed, glancing up at Jinyoung, "Of course."

Having turned back to the computer screen he missed Jinyoungs visible relief. For now, he would give Mark the space he requested, hopefully soon they could repair the damage he had carelessly caused in their friendship. He was grateful to learn that it wasn't the end of such a bond. On his way out he ordered some snacks to be delivered to Mark and paid before leaving to meet his new girlfriend for a date.

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aliteraryprincess · 6 years ago

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Blanca & Roja by Anna-Marie McLemore

Warning: Contains spoilers

Welcome back to Fairy Tale Friday! This has been in the works since late January, and now it’s finally getting posted. Yay! Today we’re looking at the first “Snow White and Rose Red” retelling of this feature. It’s also the first retelling of this tale that I’ve ever read. Blanca & Roja has elements of Swan Lake as well. I’ll talk about this a little, but I’m not going to focus on it too much since it isn’t technically a fairy tale (it is my favorite ballet though).

As a Retelling:

“Snow White and Rose Red” is different from other tales I’ve discussed in this feature because it doesn’t have basis in any oral folklore. The original story, called “The Ungrateful Dwarf,” was written Caroline Stahl, and the Grimms later adapted it. They added elements such as the bear prince and the marriages at the end, and this became the best-known version of the tale. This is the version McLemore draws off the most, but one thing she uses from Stahl’s is the family set up. In the Grimms’ version, Snow White and Rose Red live only with their widowed mother. In Stahl’s story, the girls are part of a large family. McLemore takes this approach; though Blanca and Roja are the only two children in their immediate branch of the del Cisne family, both of their parents are alive and they have many aunts, uncles, and cousins.

McLemore’s sisters are set up much in the same way the Grimms’ are. Blanca--Snow White--is the softer of the two, helping her mother around the house and doing everything possible to protect her younger sister. Roja--Rose Red--is fierce and has a temper; instead of learning domestic tasks, her father teaches her to use her anger, fight, and ask questions. Their differences are highlighted in their appearances; Blanca has golden hair and light skin while Roja has deep red hair and dark skin. However, despite being so different, they are extremely close. There is a curse on the women in the del Cisne family: there will always be two daughters, but one will always turn into a swan. Blanca and Roja are determined to avoid this curse and both remain human. In the Grimm tale, Snow White and Rose Red make a promise to never desert each other, and their mother comments, “Whatever one gets she shall share with the other.” We see a version of this in the way Blanca and Roja try to put off the curse. They try to make themselves so similar that los cisnes--the swans--won’t be able to tell them apart. Blanca eats red rose petals and prickly leaves while Roja eats white petals and rounded leaves. Blanca wears a red ribbon in her hair and Roja wears a white one. The idea is that the things associated with the opposite sister will balance out their personalities, making Roja softer and Blanca sharper.

The bear prince of this book is Barclay Holt, a boy from a wealthy family. After fighting with his cousin, Barclay goes into the woods near the girls’ house and transforms into a bear. In the Grimm version of the fairy tale, the bear comes to the cottage door one winter night wanting to warm himself. He befriends both girls and their mother and continues to come each evening of the winter. In the novel, Roja finds Barclay in bear form rooting around for food near the house. She feeds him and the two form an instant connection. Unlike in the fairy tale, Blanca has very little to do with Barclay while he is a bear. She has her own animal companion, a cygnet who turns out to be Barclay’s best friend, Page. Another major difference is the timing of him turning back into a human. In the fairy tale, this does not happen until the end of the story when the bear prince kills the dwarf who transformed him and stole his treasure. Barclay becomes a human again very early on and doesn’t live with the girls until after this transformation occurs.

As a child, I always found the marriages at the end of this fairy tale a bit disappointing for two reasons. First, there are two sisters but only one bear prince. They obviously can’t both marry him, despite him saying at one point, “Snow White and Rose Red, don’t beat your lover dead.” So Snow White marries the bear prince, who they have both become close with over the winter, and Rose Red marries his brother who she has never met. And even though it’s really common for fairy tale heroines to marry men they don’t know at all, it bothered me here because one of them does marry a man she has a strong relationship with. My second issue was that it’s Snow White who marries the bear prince. I always felt that it should be Rose Red because she is the more adventurous and wild of the two. McLemore fixes both of these issues. Though Blanca does pursue Barclay for her own reasons (more on that later), he is clearly Roja’s love interest. The prince’s brother of the fairy tale is changed to his best friend, Page, and McLemore develops her character and her relationship with Blanca beautifully. Page is transgender and non-binary and alternates between between he/him and she/her pronouns throughout the book. I’ll be using she/her since that’s what Blanca uses for her most of the time. Page actually has her own subplot based on a completely different fairy tale: “The Ugly Duckling.”

The sisters of the fairy tale have an ideal relationship with no conflict between them. Blanca and Roja, though they are close, do have the conflict of the curse. Most in the family think Roja will be the one to turn into a swan, and both girls are very aware of this. When los cisnes finally arrive, Blanca is told that she can save herself by getting a blue-eyed boy to fall in love with her. When Barclay transforms back into a human, she sees he has blue eyes. Instead of trying to win him to save herself, Blanca makes a deal with los cisnes: if she gets Barclay to fall in love with her, Roja will remain human and Blanca will turn into a swan. However, she doesn’t tell Roja about this. When Roja finds out about what Blanca was told and sees what’s happening, she believes Blanca has abandoned her and is trying to save herself. As a result, she tries to make herself more like Blanca in an effort to get Barclay to fall in love with her instead. This is where the Swan Lake aspect of the novel comes in. In the ballet, Odette--the Swan Queen--has been transformed into a swan and the only way to break the curse is for someone to swear to love her forever. She and Prince Siegfried fall in love, but the evil sorcerer Rothbart uses magic to make his daughter Odile--the Black Swan--appear like Odette. At a ball, Siegfried declares his love for Odile believing she is Odette, thus dooming the real Odette to remain a swan forever. So both girls are trying to get a declaration of love out of Siegfried, just as Blanca and Roja are both trying to get Barclay to fall in love with them. The parallels between Odette and Odile are further drawn in the climax of the novel when both sisters transform into swans; Blanca becomes a white swan and Roja becomes a black one.

Another major difference between “Snow White and Rose Red” and Blanca & Roja is the antagonists. The antagonist of the fairy tale is the dwarf who the girls try to help in the second half of the tale, though he doesn’t actually do much in the story. They continually find him trapped and free him twice by cutting his beard and once by pulling him away from from an eagle, ripping his coat in the process. Instead of being grateful, he is angry and berates them. The final time they meet him, the bear prince appears and attacks him. The dwarf tries to convince him to eat the girls, but this does not work. It is then revealed that the dwarf is the one who turned the prince into a bear and stole his treasure. The main antagonists in the novel are los cisnes, which are a complete creation of McLemore’s. The driving force behind everything that happens is Blanca and Roja trying to avoid their family’s curse. However, I think there is a subtle equivalent of the dwarf in the form of Barclay’s cousin Liam, who acts as a secondary antagonist. Barclay discovers some illegal things his family has done and has proof. Liam wants to make sure this proof never gets out. He seriously injures Barclay when they fight about it, and this leads Barclay to go to the woods and transform into a bear. As I said, it’s very subtle and maybe not an absolutely direct comparison, but in a way Liam causes the transformation just as the dwarf causes the bear prince’s. Barclay’s proof of his family’s activities can be viewed as the treasure the dwarf steals from the bear prince.

My Thoughts:

Everything about this book is gorgeous, including the writing and the cover, but my favorite part is the relationships. And not just the romantic ones, but also the family relationships and the friendships. McLemore does a beautiful job developing them and making them deep. The major crux of the story is obviously the relationship between the sisters, and I think she does a great job portraying how siblings can be close and love each other but also feel jealous and resentful. I also thought the friendship between Barclay and Page was wonderful. McLemore gives it the same importance as the romantic relationships, which I really appreciate. I think that all too often fiction portrays romantic relationships as better and of more value than friendships, and that simply isn’t true.

As I’ve said in other posts, I’m always happy to find LGBT+ fairy tale retellings. This is actually the first book I’ve read with a major non-binary character. I’m obviously not able to judge how accurate the representation is since I’m not trans or non-binary. However, in her author’s note, McLemore does mention that her husband identifies as transgender and non-binary and taught her about the complexities of gender identity. We see Page struggle with other people’s reactions to her identity and yearn for acceptance, especially from her family. We also see how important it is to respect a person’s pronouns and to just ask when in doubt. This is what Blanca does, and it means so much to Page. There is also major Latinx representation, and it is own voices as McLemore is Latina. Again, her author’s note has some interesting insights into this aspect of the novel; she discusses the way Latina women are pitted against each other and the implications of the idea of “getting a blue-eyed boy,” which was actually said to her when she was young. It’s great to see racial diversity in fairy tale retellings since it’s a genre typically based on European tales featuring white characters. I really hope McLemore will write more retellings!

My only problem with the book is that I found it confusing at times. This was really more of an issue toward the beginning of the book. It features four first-person narrators, and I did sometimes have trouble keeping track of which POV I was on. There are also some confusing jumps in time. Something would be happening in the present, then the narrative would move on to something that occurred in the past. Ultimately, I figured it out and it didn’t detract from my enjoyment of the book. But I thought it would be worth mentioning since there were several occasions when I said, “Wait, what?” and had to reread.

My Rating: 4 stars