#sometimes i remember how much hunter suffered and have hated this experience. and then i started to think | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

headcanontheshitoutofsoulsborne · 4 years ago

Text

Bloodborne Chain 2

Original prompt: The day of Laurence' transformation.

@mrslittletall

It was time for the usual morning mass and Laurence was feeling terrible.

In truth, he had felt terrible for a while now.

His body had been plagued with fevers that made him feel like he burned from the inside and he swore, sometimes it even felt like he managed to melt things he touched.

He was suffering from intense nausea that he couldn't stave off... sooner or later he would end up in front of the toilet, or any other receptacle he could reach in time, and vomit out whatever he had eaten prior. The worse thing however, was that the vomit was uncomfortably hot and he sometimes had the feeling that he was throwing up literal lava. Judging by how red it looked, it may have been true, but Laurence still desperately hoped that it was just blood. Which was more than unsettling in its own right, but would be a lot better than what he feared it was.

The last symptom and the one that made him absolutely sure about which sickness he was suffering from, was the hunger... the desire to bite into anything vaguely human shaped and the times in which he had wanted to dissect a corpse and found himself having stuffed a finger in his mouth... or worse.

His hands were concealed by gloves. It was usual for him to wear gloves anyway, but in this times and days, he never removed them, because of his prolonged finger nails that reminded him very much of claws.

It was more than clear for Laurence that he was infected with the beastly scourge, the plague that had befallen Yharnam all this years ago and he didn't know just how much time he had left.

However, his poor state wasn't a reason to neglect his duties and so he stood up on the gallery to hold the mass like every morning and recited the prayer, until he was at the last few verses.

“Remain wary of the frailty of men.

Their wills are weak, minds young.

Were it not for fear, death would go unlamented.”

Almost done. Laurence took a deep breath and raised his voice to speak once again.

“Bless us with-”

A sharp pain stopped his words and he clasped a hand at his chest, where his heart was. That... that never had happened before. At the same time, the nausea washed over him. Oh no, not here, not in the open, with all the citizens and all the church ministers watching him.

Already they stared at him, clearly confused why he had stopped. He couldn't... couldn't stay here. Clasping his other hand over his mouth, he turned around to run... only managing a few steps before his body forced him to throw up right where he was, hot reddish vomit seeping through his fingers and hitting the floor with a sizzle.

“Vicar, what was that?”, he heard a voice next to him, one of the church ministers. More voices joined in soon.

“Your grace, did you just...?”

“...That looked like blood...”

“Are you feeling alright? Should we prepare a blood ministration?”

Laurence didn't feel ready to speak. He had the feeling when he opened his mouth, that the rest of his breakfast would make it out. He raised a hand, the one that wasn't clasped over his mouth and dismissed them. He didn't need any help. He just needed to be alone.

Before anyone could say something, Laurence was making a beeline to his office, shutting the door behind him with a loud noise and then... vomited out the rest of his breakfast into a bucket he had positioned there just for this case. I was filled with a little bit of water, to cool down the far too hot vomit. Even now he could see how the water in the bucket started to steam.

After he was done, Laurence wiped his forehead. The fever was back. He took a few steps back and then practically fell into his chair that was lined up with his desk. His breathing was slow and heavy and he needed a few minutes to even think about pouring himself a glass of water and washing the bad taste in his mouth away.

He looked down at his desk, where his notes were strewn everywhere. How long had he worked last night? Desperately trying to find a cure that he hadn't managed to find for years? Laurence removed his gloves and looked at his hands, seeing that his fingernails had prolonged even more over the night.

How much time had he left? Weeks? Days? Hours maybe?

He raised his head and got up, stepping in front of a mirror that was standing in his office. The claws were not the only clue. He could see the fangs, when he bared his teeth, small, but they were there, as well as his left eye which had started to collapse. One of the earliest signs of the scourge.

His gaze wandered to his door. After what happened just now, he shouldn't let himself be seen like that. He went to his door and turned the key in the lock, letting it stick before going back to his desk, where he sat down with a frustrated sigh and started to sort through his notes. As long as he still had time, he at least had to try. He wouldn't succumb to the scourge that easily.

As Laurence sorted his notes, his hand brushed against a certain item. He picked it up and stared at it.

A failed experiment from the early days of the Healing Church. A rune with which they had tried to control the beastly scourge, to at least let these people remain their humanity, if not their form. He knew that it was futile. The rune wouldn't help him, it would probably simply speed up his transformation.

Why did he have it still here? He didn't know. Maybe he had tried to base the cure around it. Laurence didn't remember. His memory was often hazy nowadays and so he brushed the rune to the side, instead reading up on the notes he must have worked on yesterday evening.

There must be a base to start somewhere. He only needed to find it. Wishing to be able to better concentrate, Laurence hooked himself up on a blood ministration. He would need the focus.

He almost missed the knock on his office door.

That Laurence had suddenly left the gallery mid prayer had been a cause of concern for Ludwig. He knew that Laurence hadn't been feeling well lately, as hard as he tried to hide it, but that had been the first time he had actively run away before having spoken out the adage to its end.

While everyone else present was starting to leave after a brief confusion, either going to their shops, workplaces or starting their duties in the church, Ludwig made his way up to the gallery, where he found the church ministers in the middle of a heated discussion.

“Excuse me, what happened here?”, Ludwig raised his voice to drown out their argument. “Where is Vicar Laurence?”

“Ah, Sir Ludwig, we were discussing this just now.”, one of the church ministers replied, while several others stared at Ludwig, making him feel like a whole row of eyes stared at him. “He seemed to be in pain and then threw up... it looked like blood.”

Ludwig had shouldered his holy moonlight sword as usual, but when he heard that, his grip around tightened and his eyes widened. “He did WHAT?! Why has nobody followed him?”

“He gave us a sign that he would be fine and you know how he is.”, the church minister said. “He would have just sent us away. We were actually just discussing how we could approach him about the issue, because...”

The church minister pointed at the ground and Ludwig could see that there was clearly a hole burned in the ground, an acidic smell coming from it.

“Is that where he...?”, Ludwig asked and before he could finish his sentence, the church minister nodded.

“Yes, where he threw up.”, they finished for Ludwig.

“That's not good... it's literally burned. I will go and try to talk to him. You stay here. Don't do anything withOUT my approval.” Ludwig waited until all of the church ministers gave him a bow and then made his way to Laurence' office with an uneasy feeling in his stomach.

As he stood in front of it, he took a deep breath and then knocked at the door. “Laurence? I am going to come in.”, he said and tried to turn the handle, only to notice that the door was locked. “Laurence? Open the door, please.”

Laurence froze as he recognized the voice outside the door. The voice of Ludwig. Ludwig was the last person Laurence wanted to have in his office right now. He was a Hunter. He would recognize the signs, the signs that Laurence successfully had hidden from Ludwig for so long, by having him pushed away and shut out, a behaviour that he still didn't know why Ludwig tolerated it. He had been horrible to him and still, Ludwig would come and just tell him that it was alright, he would wait until Laurence felt better.

Only that Laurence knew he wouldn't get better, not when he wouldn't find a cure. So Laurence raised his voice and said: “I am fine, Ludwig, I am busy. Just go away. Please leave me alone.”

Ludwig couldn't come in and see him, he would notice the collapsed eye, the fangs, the prolonged fingernails. He would be forced to kill Laurence at the spot, as was the rule for church hunters, no one infected was to be left alive, but Laurence didn't want to force Ludwig to do this. Especially not when he had failed to make Ludwig hate him. Why had his boyfriend to be so kind and understanding?

“Laurence, I have been considerate with you for weeks now.”, Ludwig said. “I know you aren't feeling well and that you don't want much company, but... you have thrown up blood today at the morning mass. Blood that was hot enough to burn a hole in the ground. Laurence, whatever it is, that ails you, you don't have to go through this alone. Please, let me help you.”

Laurence felt a sharp stab in his chest at his words. This time it hadn't been from the scourge. He knew it was because Ludwig would be willing to stay with him and help him out and he wished so much that he could get into his arms and confess everything to him, but Laurence knew that he couldn't.

He couldn't let Ludwig know. He had to try and use all the time he had for finding the cure. How much he wished to just tell Ludwig the truth, he could, he just had to open the door and leave him in and confess about his ailment to him, but... he couldn't. Ludwig was the most loyal hunter of the church. He wouldn't stop because it was Laurence and Laurence knew that the action would break his heart.

“This none of your business.”, Laurence said, as cold as he could manage, even though he felt hot tears drop down his face. Not as hot as his vomit, but still hot enough to steam when they dripped on the ground. “Leave me alone. You can't help me.”

“Laurence, please.” Oh, Laurence just hated how pleading Ludwig's voice was. “You haven't been yourself lately. Please let me help you. I want to help you, but how can I help you when you don't let me be part of your life?”

More tears forced their way out of Laurence' eyes as he got up and walked towards the door and extended a hand, leaving it on the handle. He just had to unlock it and let Ludwig in and... no, he couldn't. He shook his head and sank down in front of the door, with his back to it.

“I... I can't...”, he sobbed, not being able to hold his tears back. “I just... can't...”

“Laurence, are you crying?!”, Ludwig shouted and frantically tried to turn the handle, several clicking noises proofing that his efforts were fruitless. “Let me in, Laurence, please.”

“No.”, Laurence said, his voice coming out strained. He took a deep breath and then shouted: “Just leave me alone and don't come back!”

“...”, there was an audible silence in front of the door. “I can't force you to open the door...”, Ludwig said and he must have removed his hand from the handle, because it went back to its original position. “But I won't leave you alone either. Just... please tell me what's wrong. Please, Laurence, just give me a chance.”

Laurence didn't reply as he got up, gaze on the ground, wiping away the fresh tears in his face.

If I let you in, you have to kill me.

The unspoken words hung in the air. Laurence couldn't bring himself to say them. He also couldn't bring himself to tell Ludwig to leave him alone anymore.

“Sir Ludwig, there have been beast sightings at the outer rim of cathedral ward!”, a hurried voice sounded, not belonging to Ludwig obviously.

“In broad daylight?! They are getting more and more brash.”, Ludwig gasped. “Laurence, I have to go, but I will come back and then I want for you to talk to me.”

There was around half a minute of silence before Laurence could hear footsteps that moved away from the door. Soon, they faded and Laurence took one step towards his desk, when the pain from earlier hit him again.

With a cry, he fell to his knees, doubled over in pain. This pain certainly was worse than earlier, he felt like he got ripped apart from the inside. Alongside the pain, he felt an itching sensation on his head, so much that he wished he could move and scratch his scalp open. It continued until the itching sensation became a new wave of pain, so intense as if something, anything wanted to force its way out of Laurence' head.

He spent a small eternity in this agonizing pain when it stopped as sudden as it had started. Breathing heavily, Laurence got up on his knees, staring at the splotches of blood on the floor, already sizzling into the carpet. He raised a shaky hand to touch his face and found blood. He couldn't remember getting injured, had he self harmed in his pain?

He slowly got up on his feet and limped to the mirror in his office, stopping before he even was in front of it. He didn't need to come closer to see what was wrong as his hand shot upward to confirm what he saw.

Antlers. He had grown some antlers, that now adorned his head, a thin stream of blood accompanying the place where they had forced their way through.

“I might have less time than I thought...”, Laurence gasped as he went a few shaky step to his desk and let himself fall down on his chair.

He could as well use this time and try to see if he at least managed to find a base for the cure. If he would transform and had to die anyway, he wouldn't just take it with his head bowed, he would scream and fight against it.

So Laurence straightened himself up, took a deep breath and then started to work.

An hour or two later, Laurence had scattered a variety of documents over his desk. Ideas where the beastly scourge came from. The first idea and the one he had followed the longest had been that it escaped the labyrinths. They had seen beasts down there and it felt like the most logical thing, that after they got unsealed, the sickness that was responsible for the beasts in there would be able to come out.

Though, they never had learned how the people down there had transformed...

Another idea had been that it was the fault of the vilebloods, but that couldn't be. As much as Laurence loathed, the beastly scourge had been there before the vilebloods had come into Yharnam and it didn't vanish once the executioners had been done with their job. The vilebloods had been beasts of their own, but that was a thing that Laurence couldn't blame on them.

A third theory, a theory that Laurence always had dismissed immediately, was that maybe the blood could be at fault. That instead of getting them closer to ascension, that humans would regress and that was the cause of the beastly scourge. Laurence had tested the blood rigorously and had been sure that it wasn't the case, but.. right at the moment he was staring at the newspaper story about Old Yharnam.

He remembered that night far too well. Finally having acquired enough umbilical cords to summon a Great One, one of the ascended, he had stepped outside and done the ritual, seeing as the Great One came from the moon. He had stepped forwards to ask her his questions, when Gehrman suddenly appeared and said something to the Moon Presence... and that had been the last time Laurence had seen Gehrman.

Shortly after, the worst hunt that had ever happened took place. Almost everyone in Old Yharnam had transformed. It had to be the influence of the moon, Laurence thought, as he stared out of the office of his window during that night, seeing the blood red moon in the sky.

In the end, Old Yharnam had to be burned down and sealed shut before the beasts would spread into the other parts of the town. Shortly after it happened, the blood red moon vanished and the longest hunt ever had been over... and Laurence had come out of it as a broken man, even though he didn't let it shine through.

Now that he looked at the article again, he noticed something. The article mentioned the sickness that had ailed Old Yharnam during that time.

Ashen Blood... in truth it had been a poisoning caused by the church. It hadn't been exactly on purpose, but the Old Yharnam citizens had been stubborn and when Laurence had learned that the poison of their research had leaked into the groundwater, he hadn't ordered for them to stop, instead he had brought the holy blood to Old Yharnam, to cure all these people and sold them on the holy blood.

A large amount of people had gotten the blood at the same time.

A large amount of people had transformed into beasts at the same time.

How could he have been so blind?!

Laurence shot up and practically ripped his current blood ministration out of his arm, a small stream of blood running down his arm, the wound closing shortly after, the healing effect of the blood taking action.

Laurence cleaned his arm from the blood and continued to think. That couldn't have been the only cause. There must have been a second cause. Not everyone who took the blood transformed. He himself had taken the blood almost daily for years and he was transforming only now.

Maybe it really was the moon...

Whatever it was, the blood certainly was one of the causes. Of course they could prevent further cases by ceasing to use the old blood, but that would be difficult.

Yharnam was reliant on the old blood. The whole town was based around it. If he would take it away, then the whole town would collapse. He would need a lot more time to figure out who to take the blood away from Yharnam.

The safest bet would be a cure, then they could keep using the blood without fearing the side effects...

Laurence sighed as he noticed that his train of thoughts involved the future, a future that he certainly wouldn't live to see anymore.

Though... with one of the causes figured out, he had a base to at least start. He leaned over his desk to search for a few more documents when the pain came back and this time it was paralysing. He fell down with his chair and convulsed on the ground for what felt like it was a really long time, paired with the same itchy sensation he had felt earlier, paired with an intense pain in his arm.

When the pain ended, he was lying there, gasping for air. It took him a few minutes to get up again. As he looked down on his hands as he propped himself up, one of them wasn't human anymore.

He could see long claws coming out from far too long fingers, the whole hand covered in shaggy fur and as his gaze followed his arm, he could see that it extended to it. His whole left arm had transformed into something so utterly inhumane that he wanted to retch.

Instead he walked the few steps to the couch and flopped onto it, cursing when he bumped his new antlers and then staring at the ceiling.

With the realization earlier about the old blood being one of the causes for the beastly scourge, his initial thoughts had been about how to handle this whole mess.

Now that his own transformation had completed another step, he had become aware that he had doomed Yharnam.

“All I wanted to do was help...”, he murmured, surprised that his voice still sounded human instead of beastly screeches leaving his throat. “I just wanted to help...”, he repeated, as if he wanted to convince a listener that wasn't there.

If only he had thrown the blood away once Master Willem had warned him about it. He probably owed the old man an apology. An apology that he would never be able to speak out. Was the old geezer even still alive?

As Laurence stared at the ceiling, he thought about all the friends he once had and had lost one way or the other, but almost all of them had left his life related to the old blood.

Caryll, who refused to study the old blood and had stayed in Byrgenwerth for their own studies about conversing with the Great Ones.

Maria, one of the best hunters he had ever seen, who got so disgusted with her own actions that she had chosen to take her life instead of living on with the guilt. She had been one of the most vehement defenders of the theory that the blood could have been at fault.

Gehrman, the first Hunter that Laurence had ever employed, the one he had lost to the Moon Presence. No, he had lost him earlier even, when his heart broke into a thousand pieces after Maria's suicide.

Micolash, his best friend and rival, who had become more and more recluse, stopped helping Laurence with the blood ministrations altogether and vanished one day to never be seen, but Laurence knew about a group that was antagonistic to the Choir and while he himself didn't fully trust them himself, the only person in charge of a group that would be able to mess with the Choir was Micolash.

Only Ludwig was left... and Amelia, his adopted daughter and future Vicar, and he had done his best to push both of them away in the last weeks. Especially Ludwig. That Ludwig still wanted to speak to him, baffled Laurence, he had been nothing but an asshole to him lately.

Laurence let out another deep sigh as he rubbed over his forehead, with the far too large beastly hand, feeling hot and sweaty. He could stay here and self loathe until he ran out of time... or he could get up and write down what he had found out so that Amelia and his church ministers could continue his research.

The most important thing would be to wean Yharnam from the blood. Laurence slowly got up. He had to make peace with the fact that he would die soon, maybe he already had made it, but he at least didn't want to leave Yharnam to ride into its certain doom.

It was difficult getting back to his desk. His vision seemed to swim and blur in front of him. Had he gotten up too quickly? No, it was the advanced transformation.

Just as Laurence had sat back down and straightened a piece of paper, taking up a pen to write down his last will, there was a knock on his door.

He froze briefly, asking himself if Ludwig had come back already? If, he would just send him away again. He needed to write his last will and after that... well, he probably would surrender and let himself be taken out before he became a danger to the church.

It wasn't Ludwig however. The voice outside of the door belonged to one of the highest ranking church ministers.

“Your grace, open the door. We have reasons to believe that you have been afflicted by the beastly scourge. As sad as this observation makes us, you know our rules and there can't be an exception, not even for you.”

Pinpoint the cancer and rip it out of Yharnam... Laurence remembered his own words about the matter.

Laurence opened his mouth to speak, to tell them that he would come to them later, that he needed to be alone now, but he was shaken by a horrible coughing fit. There even seemed to come smoke out of his throat... They certainly couldn't see him, when they would see him like this, they would execute him right away and he couldn't let that happen.

Couldn't they have discussed for half an hour more? All these boring meetings and today of all days they came to a conclusion early.

“Vicar Laurence, if you won't open the door, we will have to break it down. If you have nothing to hide, you will be able to open the door just fine, won't you?”

Damn. Laurence glared at the door, cursing his church minister in his mind with a dozen profanities in the span of a few seconds. He cleared his throat and finally managed to speak.

“I wish to be alone right now. I have urgent business to attend to and it can't wait only because of your outrageous accusations. I will make time for you later.”

So that they could execute him... Laurence cringed at the thought, but the church ministers didn't take his words. Of course, what had he expected? If he hadn't anything to hide, he could have just opened the door.

“Break the door down.”, the church minister ordered and Laurence knew that they had a hunter with them, probably multiple. He stared for a few seconds as the door got repeatedly knocked with a blunt object and only when it started to splinter he stared down at his still very blank last will.

In his panic, he wrote down the first thing that came to his mind.

“Fear the old blood.”

Just as he had finished writing, the door burst open and he could see a dozen church ministers as well as a few hunters out there. They stared as much as him as he stared at them.

His appearance was proof enough that he indeed had been afflicted with the beastly scourge.

“Vicar Laurence, you are hereby under arrest!”, the church minister announced in a clamorous voice and Laurence could see how the hunters stormed inside his office.

“Wait!”, Laurence said, both hands in the air, showing that he wasn't armed. The hunters stopped and looked at him, the church minister behind them having scrunched up his face.

“Don't show mercy just because he used to be our vicar.”

Speaking in the past of him, right in front of him. Laurence didn't had time to be offended though, he needed to tell them.

“Please listen to me!”, he said and then his world seemed to stop as his heart skipped a beat and the pain came back full force, in such a force that he couldn't speak anymore, only scream... a scream that didn't even sound human anymore.

From the corner of his eye, he could somehow see how the hunters started to move in his direction again. Laurence brushed over his desk... where was it.. his last will had been just in front of him, but which paper was it? It must be the one with fresh ink, but... he couldn't find anything with wet ink... instead, his hand closed around a small object.

It was the rune. Beast's Embrace. In the back of his mind he knew this was a bad idea. It had never succeeded before, but maybe it would help him regain his sense for long enough so that he could tell them about the dangers that the old blood possessed and how to handle Yharnam after his death.

Laurence embraced the rune with his beastly hand and concentrated on the arcane prowess inside of it... feeling how his pain eased down at first, he already was opening his mouth to speak, when his whole body felt like it would burst.

Failed.was the last conscious thought Laurence ever had, when his bones shifted and his veins popped, rearranging his body in a way that should be physically impossible. He heard how his clothes ripped open when he started to grow, he could feel the itching sensation of fur covering his skin accompanied by a blinding pain. Laurence couldn't see anything anymore, he only heard some shouting in the distance. He wanted to open his mouth to scream, but only a garbled screech came out of it as Laurence realized that his face had twisted into a snout with a row of razor sharp teeth.

He was crouched on the floor, with a claw on his hand... hissing because of the pain... He could smell blood... his blood... It hurt so much, so very very much... But, there was the smell of flesh... human flesh and he felt hungry... so very very hungry... maybe the flesh would help him ease the pain.

He took a step towards a smell and felt a new pain, sharp and annoying, at his leg and when he looked down he saw his attacker. He raised his hand and flattened them in an instant, the sweet smell of blood filling the air. He raised his hand to look at it, the urge to lick the blood clean of it strong, when a second sharp pain hit him.

Growling, he stepped forwards, glaring at the ones in front of him. He rose to his full height and let out a blood curdling screech, as he raised both of his arms into the air and then his fur ignited into fire.

He had to feast... that would stop the pain... it would stop the hunger... he had to hunt them down! With a second screech, he lunged at the first human that was dumb enough standing in front of him.

Once Ludwig returned to the church, it was on fire. With a gasp, he jumped off Midnight, his horse, and ran towards the entrance, stopping when he saw a black robed church hunter stare fearfully at the church.

“Hunter! What happened? Why is the church on fire? Why aren't you helping with evacuating?”

“Sir Ludwig, thank the blood that you returned! It's Vicar Laurence. He... turned. He had the scourge and hid it and now he is the most gigantic beast I have ever seen. He already has killed and devoured a dozen black robes! It was him who ignited the church, he's literally on fire! He's... he's out of control!”

The church hunter took a few steps back after his rant and took a deep breath before he fell down to his knees and... seemed to pray. Ludwig could hear how he called for the aid of the Great Ones, faintly, when his own mind raced.

He had heard them, the words of the black robe. He had been very clear about it. Laurence had turned... his Laurence did have the beastly scourge, the one he loved more than anything in the world, the one who had done his damn hardest to not let Ludwig be part of his life for the last few weeks.

Oh!

It had been so obvious, but Ludwig had decided to ignore him.

Laurence always had eaten his food without saying a word, but had vanished shortly after and often Ludwig had seen him come out of the bathroom wiping his mouth.

He did have increasingly fevers, sometimes they seemed to be getting so worse that he felt like he was on fire.

He never had taken off his gloves.

He had stopped to see Ludwig altogether for the last three weeks, telling him that he was busy and not feeling well and didn't want to get his ailment to spread to him because the holy blood had troubles with healing it.

“Laurence... why haven't you told me...?”, Ludwig said, tightening his grip around his holy moonlight sword before he rushed into the church. Even though he knew that the black robe didn't have any reason to lie, even though he had seen the signs, signs that his past self had ignored, a part of him still wouldn't believe that it was Laurence after he had seen him with his own eyes.

Inside the church, there was chaos. Smoke, flames and rubble. Ludwig covered his mouth and nose with his shawl and approached a group of black robes that tried to free a trapped blood saint from a column that must have fallen on her leg.

Ludwig easily lifted the column and after the blood saint had been safely pulled out, he grimly said: “Where?”

With a shaking hand, one of the black robes pointed deeper into the church. Another one added in a low voice: “Follow the flames...”

Ludwig was doing exactly that.

He actually did find a beast inside the church, in one of the conference rooms where it was busy trashing chairs and tables. The black robe hadn't lied, that was the tallest beast he had ever seen. Easily seven meters or more.

Knowing how small and scrawny Laurence was, Ludwig barely could believe that the beast could be him.

The beast was literally on fire. It wasn't because someone had ignited it, it's fur possessed a fiery quality on its own. When it screeched, a sound that made Ludwig cringe and wince, he could see burning hot magma gathering in its throat.

The left hand was mutilated into a giant claw, far larger than the right claw. The snout was filled with a row of razor sharp teeth and a set of large antlers grew out of its head.

In the corner of his eye, Ludwig saw two black robes approaching the beast, their weapons raised while the beast was distracted smashing and igniting another chair, but the moment their attacks connected with its rear, it stopped and turned around.

Ludwig had never been faster to join a fight, his holy moonlight sword blocking a hit of that immensely large left claw. The force was enough to even knock him several feet back.

“Leave!”, Ludwig ordered the black robes. “Help with evacuating the church! I handle things here!”

The two of them were on their feet in an instant and ran towards the direction of the grand cathedral, while Ludwig eyes his foe.

Could that really be Laurence?

There was a glimmering of gold in front of the chest of the beast.

Ludwig's eyes widened as he recognized what it was.

The Vicar's pendant... Laurence would always wear it, every single day. There was no doubt.

“Laurence...”, Ludwig choked out, feeling tears form in his eyes, tears that didn't had time to spill, because Laurence used his moment of hesitation to hurl him into the next best wall.

Ludwig was blinded briefly by pain as one or two of his bones cracked. He slammed a blood vial into his tight and stood up again, he was the captain of the church hunters. He was used to receiving injuries like this. Nothing that the blood couldn't handle.

...Laurence had always said this.

Upon seeing that his prey had escaped him, Laurence screeched and his large claw came rushing down once again on Ludwig. Ludwig stepped to the side, a technique that Gehrman had taught him. A technique that each Hunter should master, or they wouldn't stand a chance against the beasts they fought.

“Laurence...”, he said again, now feeling the tears in his eyes spilling. “You aren't recognizing me anymore, do you..?”

No, of course not. Nobody had ever come back after transformation. There was only one thing Ludwig could do right now.

Give him a swift death.

Ludwig dodged another swipe of that large claw and propelled his sword into Laurence' right leg. He screamed in pain and... what sounded like frustration.

Ludwig removed his sword and saw far too hot blood gushing out of the wound, igniting the carpet around them.

“You didn't want for it to be me...”, Ludwig murmured to himself as he circled around Laurence, who growled and spluttered at him. Ludwig had always thought that the beasts still looked a tiny bit human. It was no different with Laurence, as grotesque as his body had become, the way he still kept himself upright on two feet and the way he mostly used his claws for attacking... it was one of the most uncanny things about being a hunter. The knowledge that once this wretched abomination had been a human.

It was different when it was his own lover and the head of the church though.

“You didn't want that I had to kill you.”, Ludwig finished his thought. “I would love to make it painless for you, but...”

Ludwig's voice trailed off as he was unable to finish the sentence. He knew that he had to strike Laurence down, he knew that he had to inflict a mortal injury on him to stop his rampage, but... it felt so hard to take the next step. Ludwig looked down at his arm and saw that he was trembling.

That had never happened before.

The arm holding his sword was trembling.

Next thing Ludwig felt was an intense pressure around his chest as Laurence' claws enclosed around his body and lifted him up in the air.

Ludwig stared at Laurence' face.. the face that wasn't his boyfriend's anymore. That was the face of a beast. A beast that would kill anything that crossed its path. A beast that was a danger. For the church, for Yharnam. A beast that had to be taken out.

As Laurence opened his mouth Ludwig wrestled his right arm free of his grip and then drove the sword deep into the open maw of him.

A garbled screech was to hear. Ludwig tried to shove the blade even deeper inside, but get hurled against the wall before he could even properly grab it. This time he had been prepared however and managed to endure the impact with minimum damage.

Laurence was howling in pain, bringing both claws up to his snout, fumbling for the sword stuck in his maw. Ludwig rolled himself up and put a safe distance between him and Laurence, as he managed to remove the sword and hurled it towards the same wall Ludwig had impacted with, blood gushing out of the wound. Blood that looked a lot more like lava.

Ludwig's feet carried him over to the place where his sword had landed. He grabbed for it and as his hands enclosed it, he could see the little lights. His guiding moonlight.

“My guiding moonlight... are you sure about this?”, he said, but he didn't have a reason to not believe its guidance. It always had been right. Ludwig turned around and looked at Laurence, who, in the meantime, had recovered from the pain, blood seeping out of his mouth as he growled in Ludwig's direction.

As he saw how Laurence set up for a lunge, he took the holy moonlight sword with both hands and directed it towards Laurence. He concentrated on the little lights and he was sure about it, they guided him towards a specific strike.

As Laurence executed his lunge, Ludwig ran towards him, following the little lights, jumping in the air shortly before Laurence' large claws let the ground shake and while Laurence was open, he rushed down and drove his sword into his skull, right where his eyes normally would have been.

He could hear the skull cracking as Laurence shrieked in pain. Ludwig landed on the ground, a hand still on his sword as Laurence started trashing around. Ludwig held on for dear life until Laurence laid on the ground, exhausted. Ludwig used that time to remove his sword, wincing in pain as far too hot blood gushed over him and made his skin blister. As long as Laurence was still stunned on the ground, he had to act quickly. Ludwig took a big swing with his sword and let it crash down on the wound.

Laurence cracked skull broke with an audible sound and he twitched for a few seconds.

Then, he stopped moving altogether.

Ludwig slowly approached Laurence. He didn't appear to be breathing anymore. It was over.

All the adrenaline of the fight left him at once. He felt tears streaming down his face. He collapsed on his rear, vaguely aware that the fire the room was coated in wouldn't stop burning and he likely would be reduced to ashes soon if he didn't move.

Nothing of it mattered to him in the moment however. He itched closer to Laurence' dead body, hugging the giant beastly skull, not caring that his burns got even worse as his tears freely fell down and produced steam on Laurence' still hot body.

“Oh, Laurence...”

@palepious

@thefatladysang All the Channels of the City Streets

The sun blazes before them, its visage cracked and marred by the stark outline of the tree branches, bare of all leaves save for those foolish enough to try and cling to the long dead branches. Against the light, Ludwig narrowed his eyes, squinting at the figure before him.

“He doesn’t understand, you see?” the figure says and Ludwig nods in reply.

“I know. Were it up to Provost Willem, the Old Blood would never see the light of day.” The figure nods and lets out a snort of annoyance at the mere mention of the Provost.

“The old fool is sorely mistaken. The Old Blood is meant to be feared or restricted.” He turns, facing the woods and the city beyond them. “The power to cure the sick, heal the wounded, alleviate the suffering of others…” He pauses and Ludwig finds himself breathless at the sheer generosity and selflessness of the man’s vision. A better life for the common man, a hopeful future for those who had none… His back is turned towards Ludwig, but the other man knows that his exhilaration and hope mirrored on the other’s face.“This was a miracle meant to be shared with Yharnam. Not hidden away in Byrgenwerth for the rest of eternity. I don’t see how Willem could be so blind to the good it could do.” Ludwig nods, despite the fact that the man cannot see his agreement. The man turns, the burning rays of dying sunlight framing his youthful face and bright green eyes as full of hope and exaltation as Ludwig had imagined it would be and he finds himself breathless in the face of such beauty once again. “You’ll join me, won’t you?” There’s no hesitation in Ludwig’s answer.

“Of course.”

“You won’t betray me?”

“By your side, I will happily remain.”

And so they left, heading westward towards the burning sun, towards Yharnam, towards their vision of the future…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The afternoon sun climbed higher above Yharnam, occasionally filtering through the heavy clouds and into open windows to warm the inhabitants within and flitting over the hunched form of Ludwig as he trudged through the candlelit halls of the vicarage. Hunts were never easy and last night had been no exception. Whatever plague had birthed the beasts seemed to be spreading as the days went on. More and more beasts were popping up in the city and Ludwig couldn’t help but wonder if there would ever be an end to them. He and his men had found four stalking the streets earlier and they’d had to pull no less than two away from an older, obviously ill man unfortunate enough to have been caught without shelter. It was the thought of the long limbed and uncannily thin man’s gratitude, his wide smile and look of relief as Ludwig and his hunters had rallied to his aid had been worth everything; worth every sore muscle, worth every imaginary pound of weight in his limbs, worth every twinge of exhaustion after nights filled with more and more hunting and less and less sleep.

That being said… he thought as he came to a halt before a small but ornate looking door. It’s not only the Hunters who have been kept busy… His fist tightened around the medallion emblazoned with the crest of the Healing Church clutched within, It had been a token of gratitude from the older man, an attempt to repay the Hunters for their services. He’d claimed that it was the most valuable thing he owned, that he’d etched and engraved the image himself, and that it might fetch a fair bit of coin. The very idea of selling it was enough to make Ludwig scowl as he raised a gloved fist, knocked on the door and was met with only silence. He tried again. Still no reply. It was only with the third knock that the sound of irritated grumbles and the creaking sound of a body vacating a bed reached his ears. Good. He was finally awake. The heavy door inched open and Ludwig was greeted with a steely glare and tousled blonde hair that seemed to glow golden in the flickering light of the hallway candles.

“What do you want?” Laurence grumbled and Ludwig couldn’t help but give the rumpled looking Vicar a fond smile.

“Do I need a reason to visit an old friend, Laurence?” The man’s eyes narrowed further as the door began to close in Ludwig’s face. Apparently a reason was required. Luckily, Ludwig had one. He reached out to catch the door and Laurence sighed rather impatiently. “I met a man in the city during the Hunt earlier. His name is Alban Kent.”

“And?”

“He’s very ill and in great need of blood ministration.” Laurence blinked once, then twice as a shade of incredulity began to mingle with the impatience on his features.

“You’ve disturbed my rest to tell me that?” He practically hissed the words out and while Ludwig’s smile remained tense, it remained in his face nonetheless.

“It’s nearly noon Laurence! Surely you haven’t been sleeping all this time!” He boomed out a laugh as though the two were sharing a simple joke between friends. Laurence did not join in his laughter and Ludwig’s guffaws eventually died down as he looked, really looked at the man before him; his mussed hair, the dark circles beneath his eyes, the rumpled bed shirt, the fact that he was still wearing a bed shirt at this hour. “Have you been sleeping all this time?” Laurence sighed, closing his eyes and shaking his head as though trying to dislodge the conversation itself.

“Very well.” He muttered. “Next time you see this “Alban Kent,” kindly inform him that he’s been granted entry through the Great Bridge to the Cathedral Ward.” Ludwig for his part, was so caught up in the state of the other’s well being that it took him a moment to realize what Laurence had said, and another moment for him to remember why he’d sought out Laurence in the first place. He nodded again and promised to promptly pass the news along to Alban Kent, eyes never leaving the Vicar’s face as Laurence bid him farewell and attempted to pull the door closed. Ludwig’s hand didn’t budge.

“Are you feeling well, Laurence?”

“I’m fine Ludwig.” He snapped as he wrenched the door out of Ludwig’s grip with a strength that did not match his slight frame and harrowed appearance. “I only require rest. Something you seem insistent on keeping me from at the moment.” The candles in the hall sputtered and flared, deepening the shadows on Laurence’s face as he glared at Ludwig with such venom and contempt that the Hunter found himself rendered speechless. It was in this pause in their conversation that Ludwig could finally take in the other man’s appearance, the deep and dark circles beneath his eyes, the way his frame seemed almost impossibly gaunt, wondering why he had failed to notice it before now. He looked haggard, not at all like an indolent and slothful man who was merely annoyed at being disturbed from an unnecessary sleep. He truly did need to rest…

“My apologies.” Ludwig bowed his head and turned to leave when he felt a smaller, bony hand land on his arm.

“No, I needn’t have snapped at you Ludwig.” All the scorn and disdain had left Laurence’s voice, leaving the man sounding only regretful and exhausted. “I’m tired. That’s all.” The fond smile returned to Ludwig’s face as he turned back towards the other man, placed his hand over Laurence’s gave, what he hoped, was a comforting squeeze to it.

“Then I will leave you to it. Get some rest Laurence.” The Vicar said nothing, merely pulled his hand back from Ludwig and closed the door with a resolute thud, leaving Ludwig in the hallway staring after him. He hadn’t noticed the state of the other’s well-being until now. Had he been besieged by some form of illness? Were the duties of maintaining and leading the Healing Church wearing on him? Was it the threat of the Beast Plague? When had Ludwig become so busy hunting and slaying beasts to realize that Laurence was not well whatsoever? What if treatment was impossible? What if-

Ludwig gave a shake of his head to interrupt the thoughts plaguing him. Such events were not things that he could afford to think about in that moment. As the Vicar of the Healing Church, Laurence would surely receive treatment for whatever was vexing him. He had beasts to hunt, a medallion to return, and a Yharnamite to find and bring to Cathedral Ward. With that, ignoring his heavy exhaustion and the feeling of muscles twitching beneath his skin, Ludwig turned and strode down the hall.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was several days later and the moon hung high and wide in the evening sky, occasionally blurred and obscured by the low hanging clouds above Yharnam. Citizens were asleep in their beds, the city streets were almost empty and peaceful. And then the shrieking howl of a beast pierced the night as it’s massive body barrelled through the streets, the Hunters of Yharnam close behind. One broke away from the group in a desperate sprint, weaving through the cobblestone streets after the monster until he lunged forward, axe digging into the muscle and fur of the beast’s leg, drawing a spray of blood that splashed against the walls and windows of the surrounding buildings. The beast made a sharp turn. Yellow eyes blazed bright with murder, its muzzle lunged forward and fangs dug into the neck of the unfortunate hunter, sending a greater torrent of red ichor into the air as it began to tear into the man. A gurgling scream rose from his open throat as the rest of the group backed away, reluctant to interfere at the risk of their own lives. All at once, a strange green glow lit the alleyways and a beam of what appeared to be moonlight made solid blazed forward and into the beast, knocking it backwards onto the stones of the streets. It did not rise.

Panting, Ludwig rolled his shoulders and straightened, the glow of his sword dimming as though to mirror its owner’s exhaustion after the chase. This was the fourth beast they’d encountered that evening and the night was still so young. There was no telling where the other beasts were lurking, where they could be hiding or how many were holed away within the city. He rolled his shoulders again, wincing slightly as the muscles in his arms twitched beneath his skin. For the moment, his men could rest, recuperate, and-

“Behind you sir!”

The sound of shattering glass and splintering wood rose in Ludwig’s ears. Heeding the warning, he ducked forward into a roll, turning the second his feet were firmly affixed to the ground. The sword, once again glowing an ethereal green, swung upwards, carving through the beast’s chest and arching upwards to nearly cleave it in two. It was over in less than a second and Ludwig simply leaned on his blade and tried to catch his breath, now covered with the deep red blood of the beast.

“Where the hell did that one come from?” He gasped, feeling muscles shudder beneath his skin from the excitement. His group of Hunters looked at each other.

“It almost seemed as though it sprang from inside the house, sir.” It was the man who’d shouted the warning. “I saw it through the window behind you, bounding towards it like, well like a beast.” Gathering his breath, Ludwig fought against the heaviness in his shoulders and straightened to clasp the other man’s shoulder, giving him a fatigued, but grateful smile.

“You have my thanks.” He murmured, giving him a pat before striding forward towards the body of the beast. It was thinner, more gaunt than the one they had been chasing throughout the streets. The thing was smaller overall with two legs that almost looked as though it could be bipedal. The torches flickered again and caught the glint of something silver within the fur of the Beast. Perplexed, Ludwig bent forward, trying to ignore the ache in his knees to part the coarse hair and get a better look at-

At the silver medallion emblazoned with the crest of the Healing Church…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The moon, still wide and white as a smile hung much lower in the sky when Ludwig arrived at the heavy wooden door once again. He raised a fist and hammered it against the wood as though trying to knock it down with his bare hands. The reply came much sooner this time, more grumbles and noises of complaints. Ludwig heard them, but at the moment he couldn’t quite bring himself to give a damn. There was a creak and the ever familiar sight of an annoyed, somewhat sleepy looking Laurence came into view as the door opened.

“I can accept you waking me in the afternoon Ludwig, but this-”

“The Old Blood is causing the Beast Plague.” Immediately, Laurence perked up, eyes going wide with shock and Ludwig could practically see his spine stiffen as he was grabbed and pulled into the bedchamber. The door thudded closed behind them and Laurence began to busy himself with the tinderbox, hunting around the room for a candle. The match was struck, a weak flickering light came into existence and Laurence gestured towards the bed, silently imploring Ludwig to sit.

“What have you found out?” He inquired, much calmer than he’d been in the hallway. “Tell me everything.” And Ludwig did. He told him about his encounter with Alban Kent while on a hunt, about how he’d been given the medallion as a form of payment and had returned it during Alban’s visit, how he’d been on a hunt barely an hour earlier only to encounter the beast wearing the pendant. The whole time, Laurence’s expression never changed. Occasionally, the Vicar would nod in acknowledgement, but there was no fear, no rage, not even a response to any of Ludwig’s statements. He was silent while Ludwig explained his findings and remained silent for several moments after Ludwig had finished. On any other topic, Ludwig would have allowed him the time to quietly think, to turn over the information he’d been given to formulate a course of action and how best to implement it. But this was a different matter altogether. Ludwig needed answers, needed some sort of plan, and Laurence just sat there, hands folded together beneath his chin, staring into the flickering candle and said nothing.

“Well?” Ludwig demanded.

“Well what?” Laurence’s tone was smooth, even, almost unconcerned. And Ludwig felt his blood boil.

“Well you need to stop Blood Ministration immediately!” He roared, rising from where he’d been sitting on the bed to stride forwards towards the other man. “If the Old Blood is responsible for creating beasts, we need to stop treatments and-”

“Ludwig.” The Vicar barely even needed to raise his voice and Ludwig found himself cut off. Voice betraying nothing about his thoughts, Laurence continued.“Are you aware of how many Yharnamites come to the Cathedral Ward for Blood Ministration a day?” The words hung heavy in the candlelit air between them as Ludwig’s jaw hung open for a moment or two.

There was no way-

There was no way Laurence could even think that-

“Laurence-”

“Almost fifty Ludwig. Every single day. And that is simply the people we treat for day to day ills and injuries.” Heedless of Ludwig’s attempted interjection, Laurence gazed over the tops of his folded hands at the Hunter. “Have you any idea how many of them have been genuinely cured of their illness and ailments?”

“Laurence, you’re not-”

“All of them Ludwig. Every single person who comes through the Cathedral Ward leaves in almost perfect health every time.” No, he couldn’t be thinking- “What do you think would happen to those if your little discovery were to be disclosed to the populace of Yharnam? What would happen if we were to stop Blood Ministration altogether?”

“The Beast Plague would cease and the people would no longer be threatened!” Ludwig roared once again, muscles coiling and writhing beneath skin in his anger. He paid them no mind and continued to advance towards the First Vicar. “You can’t honestly expect me to-”

“All the efforts and accomplishments we’ve been working towards will be undermined!” His voice had raised slightly, rage barely noticeable but for the few who had known Laurence, truly known him, for years. He stood slowly, full height barely coming up to Ludwig’s chest, but by God did he make good use of every inch. “You claim you want what is best for Yharnam? The Old Blood has ensured that the city thrives, that its people can be healed and made well no matter their standing or station. Do you truly seek to undermine all our efforts Ludwig?”

“Of course not. But if you-”

“And you are worried for nothing. We are already working towards a solution to the plague.” Laurence finished his rant, fixing Ludwig with an icy glare as though daring him to continue the argument. To his credit, Ludwig didn’t so much as flinch, fixing Laurence with a glare of his own.

“What solution?” Laurence did not flinch either at the question, but there was a distinct lack of an answer as well that did not go unnoticed. “What kind of solution are you working towards Laurence?” The other man did not answer some time. Seconds, minutes, hours may have passed by before Laurence finally broke eye contact to turn his gaze out the window towards the pale moon. For a moment, he said nothing and Ludwig wondered if the two of them were destined to remain in silence for the rest of eternity. And then…

“The Choir has made contact with Ebrietas. They’re close to a revelation regarding the nature of the Beast Plague and how best to stop it.” The reply was said to the window, Laurence still refusing to meet his gaze, as though anticipating Ludwig’s reaction and the subsequent look of distress mingled with outrage.

Ebrietas.

“You’re relying on that-” Ludwig cut off, swallowing around the lump that had suddenly risen in his throat at the mere mention. He’d only seen the Daughter of the Cosmos once, back when the Healing Church had still been young, back when using the Old Blood as a medium for healing and medicine had been a revolutionary idea. It had only been once, only the briefest of glimpses. But what little he’d seen had remained with him for weeks, months, and would likely remain with him until he died.

And Laurence wanted to rely on her- on it, for help with the epidemic ravaging their city. “Your plan is to rely on that thing!?” He hissed, advancing towards Laurence, the rage bubbling beneath his skin nearly tangible. “Making deals with beings man was not meant to comprehend? Endangering the lives of the citizens of Yharnam?” HIs anger and frustration with the other man burst forth and Ludwig surged forward, gripping Laurence’s upper arms tightly and giving him a rough shake that lifted Laurence partially off the floor. “What are you thinking Laurence!?” There was no response as Laurence continued to gaze out of the window. The man’s apparent indifference to Ludwig’s outburst enraged Ludwig even further and he nearly found himself overtaken by the urge to rip the other man limb from long limb when he noticed the Vicar’s eyes, yellow sclera glazed and glassy. And Ludwig felt a cold sense of dread come over him as the pieces began to fall together. Yellow eyes, long limbs, a persistent fever, the strange way his face had grown gaunt and longer in the time since the founding of the Church... “Laurence?” The eyes closed as Laurence drew a quivering breath.

“Their lives are not the only ones at risk, Ludwig.” He murmured, eyes still glassy, still refusing to meet Ludwig’s. “The best way to study the effects of a substance on the body of humans is to experience said effects yourself after all.” Laurence smiled, gave a rueful chuckle as though the two of them were simply conversing as two old friends, as though Ludwig’s fingers and body hadn’t gone numb causing his grip on Laurence to loosen just enough for the Vicar’s feet to touch the floor once again. And still he continued speaking. “If Ebrietas is not forthcoming, then my own experiences with the plague should be rather enlightening.” He finally looked up, finally met Ludwig’s eyes and gave a rueful, almost sad smile. “Don’t give me that look Ludwig.” He gently admonished the other and Ludwig vaguely became aware that his face had contorted in a look of despair. “If all else fails then…” He swallowed, nonchalance taking on a newly unearthed fear at the unspoken certainty of his future. “Well, I’ve trained Amelia for this exact scenario. She’s a worthy successor already…” He trailed off, looked off towards the moon through the window once again and left Ludwig to stew over the night’s revelations.

He’d been foolish really. The conclusion of Laurence’s fate should have been obvious to Ludwig from the moment he’d realized where the Scourge of the Beast came from. The Old Blood caused the Beast Plage, and Laurence, as the First Vicar of the Healing Church and pioneer of Blood Ministration itself, had naturally been partaking the blood as far back as their days as students in Byrgenwerth. Had that not been how they’d discovered its medicinal properties? Or rather, how Laurence had discovered its medicinal properties? Had Laurence known? Had he known of the Beast Scourge the entire time? Or had the information made itself known to him at a later time? Through his continued contact with that thing beneath the Cathedral? Or had Laurence simply noticed the pattern between those who contracted the affliction and the patrons of the Healing Church? Thousands, millions of questions bouncing around Ludiwg’s head, vying to be spoken, practically tumbling over themselves to be the first out of his mouth. And yet, the sight of Laurence, looking haggard, uneasy, and more scared than Ludwig could ever recall seeing him in the time they’d known each other, rendered every single question and query silent. What could he say? What words could possibly offer comfort to a man who knew he was destined for a fate that would surely be worse than death for a man sworn to eradicate plague and disease?

“With how much you’ve been sleeping well into the afternoon she’s practically running things already…” Though despondency did not leave his face, Laurence managed a brief chuckle and a smile at the comment.

“That she is…” He murmured in reply. For a moment, the two said nothing, just standing in the warm, sputtering glow of the candle on the bedside table as they tried to keep their wits, tried to pretend that all their work wasn’t for nothing, trying to pretend that one of them was not only a few steps away from a horrific fate. And then Laurence looked up, finally meeting Ludwig’s brown eyes with his own, now yellow eyes. “You’ll stay with me, won’t you?” The question was softly asked, Laurence’s voice quivering with an insecurity he would rather die than show the masses of Yharnam. “Until the end?” And with a final squeeze to the other’s shoulders, offering comfort rather than consternation, Ludwig replied with his own miserable smile.

“Of course.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He’d been returning from another nightly hunt, exhausted and covered in the blood of beasts when he saw the strange glow through the spires of the Cathedral Ward. Smoke was billowing into the night air from deeper within the ward. Ludwig only had a moment to take in the horrifying sight, had only a moment to wonder what had happened, whether the Clerics had been evacuated, whether Laurence was safe or not, before another Hunter was running towards him, eyes wide and panicked. Ludwig ran forward to meet him, expecting news of the fire, what had caused the blaze, if it was an accident or deliberate. The Hunter wasted no time, calling out to him immediately.

“There’s a Beast! In the Cathedral Ward!” Ludwig felt his blood freeze. Whatever he’d been expecting, it certainly hadn’t been to hear that they were under attack. With no hesitation, Ludwig gripped the hilt of his blade, accelerating and calling over his shoulder.

“Where is it?”

“It’s in the Grand Cathedral.” The Hunter called back, struggling to keep up as the two of them ascended the stone steps. The streets were deserted, sparks and embers dancing in the air around them as Ludwig could feel the air grow thicker with heat as they approached the Cathedral. Were the beast and the blaze connected somehow? A thought suddenly occurred to Ludwig and he felt his stomach drop to the stones beneath him. The blaze was visible now, even from the low level of the Round Plaza, he could see the edifice of the Great Cathedral, partially obscured by the flames that threatened to consume the entire Ward. Pausing for the first time that night, he turned to the Hunter.

“Where is Laurence?” The Hunter paused, a look of confusion spreading across his face, likely due to Ludwig’s use of the Vicar’s given name. Ludwig however did not have the patience for such things. “Do you know where the First Vicar is?” A look of horror crossed the other man’s face and he turned his gaze towards the stone steps leading up to the currently burning Cathedral.

“I, I heard that he’d gone to the Great Cathedral to pray but-” He may have said something afterwards, or perhaps he’d simply cut the statement off right there. Either way, Ludwig heard nothing over the ringing in his ears the news brought. Laurence had been in the Cathedral. The Cathedral that was now engulfed in flames. The burning Cathedral that a beast had last been seen in…

With a shake of his head, Ludwig grit his teeth and clutched the hilt of his blade so tight he could feel his knuckles turn white. He had to think, had to focus. Laurence was likely-

The Church would-

“What about Amelia?” The Hunter’s head shot up, taken aback by Ludwig’s sudden question. “Where is she?”

“I heard she was taken to the Church of the Good Chalice.” He replied. “Far as I can tell, she’s safe, sir.” And with that, Ludwig let out a shaky breath. Laurence may be-

Laurence was probably-

Even so, the Healing Church would rebuild, would rise from the tragedy under Amelia’s guidance. So long as she was safe, so long as she could lead, they would recover.

But they would not do much with a Beast burning down the Great Cathedral.

Gripping the hilt of his sword once again, Ludwig turned and faced the other Hunter.

“Gather as many men as you can. We can’t let it escape!” The Hunter gave a nod and almost ran off before a look of uncertainty crossed his face, nearly making Ludwig scream with impatience.

“Sir it- It’s different somehow. I don’t think we can-” And Ludwig was gone before the other could speak any further, bounding up the stairs towards the blazing Cathedral, heedless of the flames and scorching heat surrounding him. The doors were wide open, flames licking the stone entryway as Ludwig peered inside. Even partially obscured by heat and fire, Ludwig could see that the Hunter had been right. This Beast was different, far bigger than the others he’d encountered previously. Nothing to be done about it. Clenching his eyes, Ludwig dove forward, leaping into a roll through the flame and coming to his feet on the heated stone floor before the beast.

Steeling his eyes, Ludwig ignored the beast and cast his gaze around the interior of the Cathedral, looking for some sign of Laurence. There was nothing. No blood on the floor, no tattered pile of clothes, no blood-soaked body lying somewhere in the corner. For a moment, only a moment, he allowed himself a small sigh of relief. Either Laurence had escaped, or…

And then his eyes fell on the Beast.

It easily dwarfed him, nearly reaching the upper levels of the Cathedral while standing on its hind legs. Shaggy grey fur covered a body that was wreathed and alight with flames. At the sound of feet hitting stone, the thing turned its mangled antlered head towards him, drew itself up to its full height and bellowed, long and guttural. Its breath stank of rot and decay and blistered impossibly hotter than the inferno surrounding them. It was a monster of a Beast, a devil that had crawled out of Hell itself and brought damnation with it.

And Ludwig swung his blade wide, green glowing against red and orange to slice into the open maw of the Beast.

There was no telling how long the two exchanged blows. The Beast lunged forward and Ludwig rolled away. Ludwig rushed forward to try and cut legs and the beast would bring its heavy arm down before he could get within range. They sliced, stabbed, swung and danced around each other until Ludwig was panting and sweating with exertion. The heavy robes of the Church Hunters may have protected him against the worst of the beast’s attacks, but the warmth had become unbearable and he could feel his head swim. There was no sure way of telling how the beast was faring, but it was covered in shallow cuts with what appeared to be liquid fire seeping through them. It roared once again and lunged towards Ludwig, but its movements were slower, more fatigued. It was wearing down. Just a few more strikes, just a few more moments, just-

And with a great burst, a beam of moonlight shot forth from the sword to pierce straight through the torso of the monster and with a great shriek of pain its upper body flew through the air leaving the legs and hindquarters to collapse onto the floor. It clawed its way towards the doors, howling and shrieking in agony and defeat. Ludwig rushed forward, sword raised high and poised to strike the final blow when the beast turned its head and roared at him, sounding almost pitiful. The blaze around them had dimmed, as had the fire lighting the beasts eyes. Without their glow, Ludwig could see that they were the yellow of beasts; lucid, clear, and bright with an intelligence that did not suit its bestial nature. Bright yellow eyes that Ludwig was certain he’d seen somewhere before in a dimly lit room in the flickering light of a candle. Eyes that had once glowed a bright, intelligent green before the blazing light of the setting sun…

“Laurence?”

And the beast blinked, eyes narrowing before widening as they fell on Ludwig’s form, frozen against the dying flames. Its- his- The Beast’s eyes widened in recognition and it gave a piercing, agonized. More and more liquid fire sizzled on the slowly cooling stone floor as it began to claw at its own head, howling and shrieking in a maddened agony.

And in his mind, Ludwig could almost hear the frantic, panicked voice of the First Vicar.

“You’ll stay with me, won’t you?”

Teeth clenched and eyes hardened, Ludwig strode forward. His sword was no longer glowing with Moonlight, but still raised, still poised to strike. Laurence- no. He could not afford to think of this, this thing as Laurence. The Beast that had never been Laurence continued to growl and shriek as he approached. Limbs thrashed across the ground, swinging wide and missing Ludwig by mere inches. He continued on.

“Until the end?”

The Beast continued to growl, even as Ludwig drew closer, even as he came to stand right next to his- it’s head, even as the pointed end of the sword hovered above one open yellow eye.

“Of course.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Seemingly hours later, the other hunter who had split from the Plaza will through the Cathedral doors, a dozen hunters in tow, each expecting to see Ludwig in the jaws of some enormous flaming beast. Instead, they will find him standing triumphant over its massive corpse, covered in blisters and burns and with a hollow look in his eyes and news of the death of Laurence the First Vicar on his tongue. They will never know what occurred during the battle, Ludwig will refuse to speak of it. No one will know how he spent the past few moments, cradling the head of the Beast in his lap, tears soaking into fur as the fire around them died, wondering how it had come to this. How had Laurence, the Vicar of the Healing Church, had fallen to Beasthood. And if Laurence had been the first to go, how much longer did Yharnam have. And no one will know until much later that as Ludwig had wept and mourned, he’d felt something foreign, something monstrous and sinister, slithering beneath his own skin…

@dragonbasket

@maskofconfusion

Ascendance. This was the true goal of the Healing Church. Hidden under layers of selflessness and generosity to Yharnam’s citizens, the pursuit of godhood spun the cogs of their civilization without ever being seen. The Church stood as a beacon of hope and prosperity to the people, with it they had no fear of illness, of injury, of death. The people put their unquestioning faith in the miracle blood and obliviously trusted the Church to uphold their promises of security until it was too late.

The moon hung in the sky above Yharnam like a blooming rose. It bathed the streets and rooftops in a blanket of crimson light and reflected off the stained windows of the Grand Cathedral like the glint in a wolf’s eyes.

The Church had abandoned its people. While the red moon rose higher in the night sky, the upper echelons had blocked off the Great Bridge, effectively spelling the fate of anyone still on the other side. Those of the Church had closed its doors and hidden themselves away, leaving the helpless citizens of Yharnam to the claws of the beasts it helped create.

Said beasts ran through the city like a swarm of locusts. With gnarled, matted fur and bloody claws and wild eyes they tore through people and homes like a knife through butter. It was a culling. The cobbled streets were wet with the blood of women and children and the men trained as hunters even though they never stood a chance.

There were still those who attempted to fight, those with the hope that it was only a matter of time until they were saved. They stood fast in Old Yharnam and acted as a last line of defense. But even then, the Old Hunters too fell to the merciless strength of the beasts. On that night Old Yharnam was set ablaze as a last resort, and any hope of pushing back against the beastly scourge was turned to ash along with it.

It was on that night that Laurence, the first Vicar made contact with the Moon Presence. In his lust for cosmic knowledge and desperation for salvation from the monsters he helped create, he too became a horrifying beast.

It was on that night that Ludwig the Holy Blade upheld his duty to the Church and took up his sword of moonlight, slaying Laurence where he stood. No longer a man, but a beast.

Ludwig dashed up the stairs to the Grand Cathedral. He’d already spent too much time that night fighting a losing battle. Countless numbers of his students and fellow hunters had lost their lives to the beasts roaming the streets. They’d had to give up even pretending they could protect the citizens from the vicious creatures, eventually retreating to preserve their own lives. After all, if the hunters all died here, would there be any hope left?

He passed by whimpering children and weary mothers on his way up the stairs -he was surprised they even made it this far- with his eyes forward and shoulders squared. He knew there was nothing he could do to help them short of inviting them into the cathedral, and even that was only open to the public during the day for blood ministrations and prayer. They wouldn’t be allowed to stay there regardless, those days were over.

So he moved on. He pushed the heavy doors open and closed them without looking back.

“Ludwig, I see you’ve made it right on time.”

Standing at the far side of the cathedral with his back to the entrance was Vicar Laurence, the founder of the Healing Church as they knew it. Laurence was a man Ludwig respected greatly, a man he found strength when standing beside him. It was more than he felt he deserved, for him to have found a light in the crushing darkness they all lived in. But he’d slowly been learning that selfishness was the only way to survive anymore.

Though even in this nightmare they lived in Laurence still had not given up. He was fully devoted to his cause, so devoted that Ludwig felt compelled to stand by his side as he saw it through.

“It’s almost nightfall, Laurence, I hope whatever you’ve got to say is important.” he sighed. “The state of things out there is getting worse and worse, it would not be wise to ignore. There’s nearly nobody left.”

Laurence spun around away from the altar and clasped his hands together in excitement.

“My dear Ludwig, I believe I have made the discovery of a lifetime. The solution to all of our beastly problems! The gateway to a greater self!”

Laurence was all but vibrating with anticipation as he waited for Ludwig to approach him at the altar. He excitedly rearranged various items on the surface and motioned for Ludwig to hurry closer.

Ludwig reached the scholar and peered around his shoulder at the mess of what could only be described as things on the wood of the altar. There were what looked like masses of flesh and mummified extremities and strange plants- He couldn’t even begin to guess what Laurence had in mind for these ‘materials’.

He carefully stepped away from the altar and drew Laurence back by his sleeve to meet his eyes. “Laurence, have you gone mad? Miracle blood is one thing, something I’m willing to believe in, but this?” his voice lowered, “You worry me, Vicar.”

Ludwig wanted to rationalize what he was witnessing. He wanted there to be a straightforward answer from Laurence to explain the horrific things he was collecting, but he feared that there wasn’t going to be one. How could there be? And that’s what he was worried about. He was worried that Laurence was getting into something he shouldn’t be, something he couldn’t handle.

Laurence laid a hand over the one still grasping his sleeve. “I need you to trust me, hunter.”

Ludwig could feel himself caving. Inside, he knew he was never going to stand in the way of Laurence’s progress. While Laurence and his ideas sometimes confused or worried him, he knew that he did indeed trust him. He trusted him completely, and that thought used to scare him, but now it was a fact he was resigned to. He would follow Laurence to the very end, be it a happy one or just another nightmare.

Ludwig nodded, letting go of Laurence’s robes and standing back.

Laurence reached out to squeeze his hand lightly one last time and smiled. “Thank you, Ludwig. This is something I could not do without you.”

Laurence then turned back to the altar and laid his hands upon it. He ducked his head and whispered words too low for Ludwig to hear.

Ludwig watched, stunned, as the air around his comrade shimmered and shook. His mind could barely comprehend the way the energy in the room turned solid and flowed. The mirage-like form floated through the air around the altar, reaching down from the high ceilings of the church to ensnare the man beneath it. All Ludwig could do was bear witness as the form seemed to coil around Laurence the way a snake would its prey.

Laurence was lifted into the air, his body silhouetted by a red halo of light cast through the stained windows behind him. In stark contrast to Ludwig’s creeping terror, the man before him looked delighted. He looked up and past something the other could not see and reached out his hand in offering.

Ludwig broke out of his stupor to call out to his comrade, fear and confusion lacing each syllable. He could barely comprehend enough of the scene to question it, almost begging for any kind of explanation.

“Don’t you see, Ludwig? There’s no need to be afraid!” Laurence looked away from empty air to address the frantic man below him. “Our time of fearing everything but the shadows beneath our feet is over, soon it will be our time.” He flung his arms out at his sides as the being coiled around him became corporeal. “Witness me, dear friend, for I have beckoned the Moon!”

Laurence’s raving grew more spirited, gesturing wildly seemingly in an attempt to quell Ludwig’s fears. He tried to assure him that they would live on, thrive, even ascend together.

Ludwig knew they couldn’t.

He reached over his shoulder and grasped the hilt of his blade. The last thought that went through his head as his sword lit up like a glowing sea was how much he wished they could.

@fateoftheundead

#soulsborne chain game #bloodborne chain 2 #laurence the first vicar #ludwig the holy blade #LauLu #Angst #this one turned angsty #I love all the art that got made!#I love that fic 2 is practically the same as the prompt ^^#aaah everyone did such a GREAT job with this chain

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demonic-ninja-cat · 4 years ago

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I honestly don't like SPN as a whole much at all anymore. Like, I don't like the show as a whole, I don't like 90% of the characters, I don't like 90% of the fandom, and I don't like the concept itself("heroic" Hunters going around mercilessly killing "evil" Supernaturals and being praised for it).

Before you ask why I started watching it if I don't like it, I didn't always dislike it. When I was younger, my sibling made me watch it, I got attached to Cas, and I didn't realize how bad Dean was and how fucked up Hunting was, so for a while I liked it.

And I still like my OCs, of course, and there are still a couple characters that I like and some that I at least have soft spots for, but I honestly hate just about everything else about the show, including the majority the most popular "heroic" and "good" and "neutral" and "not completely villainous" characters in some way:

Dean: this one is obvious, and I've gone through my massive lists of reasons that I hate him before, but the biggest ones are him being abusive as fuck to everyone he's close to, and how he's a prejudiced speciesist genocidal serial killer(a fact which is a major contributing factor to his abuse, as all of the people he treats the worst are/were supernatural in some way)

Sam: Like Dean he is a Hunter, and also he didn't ever get Jack away from Dean, he didn't defend Cas or Jack against Dean enough, he allowed/encouraged Jack to Hunt, and he is so codependent with Dean that he'll let anyone else suffer or die to save Dean or because Dean told him to do it

Cas: I have a soft spot for him, but he is still a Hunter, and still didn't stop Jack from Hunting or get Jack away from SamnDean ever, and he mercilessly killed tons of Supernaturals, including his own siblings, due to the Winchesters' brainwashing. And it was brainwashing; he was abused and beaten into submission first by Heaven and then by Dean, hence I don't hate him, and I still have a soft spot for him

Jack: He is a Hunter, and almost all of the portrayals of him I've seen have been pro-Hunter, but I let it slide and still kind of like him, because he's a literal child who has been abused into thinking that what he and his "family" are doing when they Hunt is "saving people" and "using his powers for good"

Bobby: Literally wanted to kill a baby for being supernatural(Olivia the shifter), helped Dean force Sam into the torture-detox, and is of course a Hunter

Charlie: is a Hunter, canonically killed a teenage vampire, and doesn't even have a "tragic backstory" to explain why she's a prejudiced serial killer; like, she never lost anyone to an evil supernatural or anything, she literally was just saved from an evil supernatural by SamnDean a couple times and decided she wanted to "fight monsters" too

Claire: is a Hunter, is basically a female Dean personality-wise, her girlfriend was racistly killed for her whitegirlpain(also said girlfriend was a supernatural who teamed up with the people who kill her kind for a living), and I had some unpleasant experiences with rping with a Claire on an SPN rp server, which has caused me to hate her more than I did before

Jody: She's a Hunter and a Cop, and it annoys me how everyone worships her as this "super-awesome mom who adopts all the kids", when she only takes in kids who were hurt by Supernaturals(and never any hurt by Hunters), and she tells them all sorts of good things about Hunters and SamnDean and whatnot. Those Hunter Stories are likely part of why Claire was obsessed with Hunting and thought that Hunting was the best way to "rebel" and "be independent and badass"

Garth: He's not quite as bad after he became a werewolf, but he's still a species-traitor who befriended and is cool with Hunters, and he, after he became a werewolf might I add, canonically blew up a whole warehouse for of supernaturals to save SamnDean

Mary Winchester: She join the BmoL, a genocidal hate group, who’s members tortured and r*ped her son, because she agreed that their genocidal goals were “good” and “saving people”!

Ellen and Jo, Eileen, Henry Winchester, Samuel and Deanna Campbell, and all one-off Hunter, MoL/BMoL, and Hunter-Ally characters: I don't remember enough about them to truly hate them, but they are all Hunters/MoL, so I automatically dislike them just based on that fact

Donna: Same as the characters above, but she's also a cop, and I remember her being speciesist in the episode with the Pishtacos

Mick Davies: He’s a BMoL Agent, and he killed an innocent teenage girl just because she was turned into a werewolf!

Arthur Ketch: He's a BMoL Agent, and he killed Magda Peterson, an abused teenage girl, just because she was a Supernatural!

Benny: wasn't the worst, but was a species-traitor who worked with Hunters against his own kind

Gabriel: the alien anal probe r*pe thing, and the fact that he sometimes worked with SamnDean(though I understand why he did so during the Michael/Lucifer apocalypse)

Crowley: asshole, bad parent, murdered and tortured innocent people, worked with Hunters/SamnDean

Rowena: asshole, bad parent, murdered and tortured innocent people, worked with Hunters/SamnDean(though I like her more than Crowley, but only because she’s a hot and badass evil woman)

Michael: asshole, tortured Sam and Adam in the Cage, tried to start the apocalypse

Honestly, Adam is the only popular character I can't find anything to complain about; he's not a Hunter, never killed innocents or tortured anyone, or really did anything else wrong, and his life was shitty as fuck; first, he was killed and eaten by the ghoul siblings, then he was dragged out of Heaven to be used as Michael's meatsuit for the apocalypse, and after that he was tortured for literally thousands of years because his worthless "brothers" only cared about each other and didn't even try to save him

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littlejanesilver · 4 years ago

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The Human Experience (now with paragraph breaks!)

I know it’s not a popular ideology to have right now, because so much we see in the news appears to speak against it, but I think humans are basically an altruistic, cooperative species— with a few caveats. So many of our problems arise out of the fundamental mismatch between the world our species evolved to live in and the world we live in today. Empathy is a natural feature of the human experience. We teach our children positive prosocial behaviours like sharing their food and caring for others who are sick or hurt. We survive and build through cooperative behaviour. Kindness is instinctual and the instinct is reinforced through proper socialization. I’ve seen it in my children before they could even speak, trying to offer a pat on the back or comfort to a crying sibling. Normal, socialized humans feel physical and mental distress in ourselves when we see others in distress and are eager to alleviate it. The thing is human altruism, like that of other primates who live and hunt in groups is usually predicated on face to face personal relationships. It makes sense to share with others in your group when you have more than enough, because someday when they have more than enough they will be more likely to share with your. In humanity the ability to cooperate has been positively selected for through million of years of evolution. It makes sense that over the comparatively long human life span, where you might live in a tribe of 60 people, you would encounter the same members of your tribe over and over again and your prosocial actions would be remembered and influence their prosocial actions towards you further down the line. Our big brains are good for remembering and keeping score. Not to mention in such an environment, you would also probably be somewhat genetically related to your tribe-mates so helping your family members and tribe-mates survive also enhances the survival of your own genes. Among surviving hunter gatherer tribes it would be consider insane for one member to horde all the food while other members of the tribe starve. A person could be excluded from the group for behaviour like that and a human without other humans in nature does not survive for long. Being exiled from one’s tribe is a fate most will do anything to prevent. Also, in the hunter gatherer world, where people are nomadic, having a huge amount of one substance doesn’t make a lot of sense, because you can only own what you can carry with you. There are also no refrigerators, so if you have more food than you need, whatever you don’t eat will rot quickly. Human life in the prehistoric world could be extremely harsh. Few infants survived and giving birth was highly precarious. But when a member of your tribe was in distress, even without modern medicines you still had something you could do and that was offer comfort, through a hug, or helping with a task or offering food. In the world we live in now the instinct to share is sometimes short-circuited. Holding resources has been facilitated by inventions like fridges and silos to keep grain. People decide to keep resources to themselves and their families, because they often don’t see or can’t relate to the people their greed is harming. Executives of large companies never have to see their employees face to face, they don’t grow up with the people they employ (who nowadays may live in another country entirely), and there is no consequence to them for causing others to experience distress. Also there are so many thousands of employees that they become theoretical to the executives, rather than real flesh and blood people they have to live with on a day to day basis who will confront you if you treat themselves shitty and treat you badly right back. Also, if say a factory in another country is mistreating its workers and the factory makes clothes for your company (as well as other companies), there are so many culprits in the problem, front he managers of the factory itself, to the country it is in that allows lax labour laws, to the many companies that have this

factory make clothes for them, to the country the company is located in that makes it more worthwhile for them to hire foreign companies to make their clothes— that the individual executive sitting in an office somewhere is so far removed and their contribution is so diffuse among the many others in the process that he or she feels no shame. More importantly, that executives social group is unlikely to include members of the exploited class, so they will never be publicly shamed or held accountable in a social setting, which, let’s face it, is what keeps most of us honest, when the temptation to take more than our share is strong. The instinct to display compassion and show care for others, is also challenged in certain ways in a modern context. The instinct to display empathy and compassion is strongest for family members and extends to other tribe-mates in a healthy human being, across all cultures and settings. If you saw a loved one crying, you would naturally go up to them and put an arm around their shoulder and ask how you could help. The distress you feel at seeing another person in distress, would reduce, once you could offer them comfort. Feeling an arm around their shoulders, experiencing comforting touch also would help elevate your loved ones feelings of distress. As much as we hate feeling pain or distress, in us and seeing it in others, experiences like this help bond us to those we love. When a friend supports you through a tough time it can cause your friendship to deepen. It feels like a blessing to be able to offer them the same strength they offered you in return at a latter date. When I a can offer a listening ear to a friend’s complaint or be able to offer a pair of arms to hold a loved one who is crying, I feel the most human. Being together in this way with others, knowing that they are feeling what you are feeling and sharing in a moment, whether listening to music or experiencing a film together is so special and so inherently human. It is hard to explain, but there is a positive feeling that comes from when one is acting in accordance with one’s animal nature. The naturalness and lack of push-back your brain is giving you— like when you have really good sex or do a refreshing (not exhausting) physical workout that pushes you a bit, or stare in wonder at something in nature— this sense of doing what you were made for— what is most natural and human feels so wonderful and liberating. I feel that when I am concocting stories sometimes, this ability to be in the moment and intensely aware of what I am doing, fully experiencing it without being distracted by other worries or things going on in my mind. The problem as I see it is that we see so much distress around us that is taking place far away, across the globe and we can see the people’s faces in pain, but we have no ability to take that pain away or even offer the basic comfort our ape ancestors could, such as an arm around the shoulder or the offer of half a fruit. We can’t give them anything. Maybe we can donate money to an earthquake fund or something, but who knows if that money will even reach them and it won’t effect that specific person you see right now, on your screen. Maybe we don’t even have enough money to give a dollar to an earthquake fund and maybe the government of the country that suffering person is living in, is causing their suffering because it refuses offers from the international community to help (see North Korea). What do people do when they are constantly faced with the reality of thousands of people suffering who we can’t do anything to help? We evolved to deal with one or two people in our tribe suffering every once and a while. We evolved to feel pain ourselves at the suffering of someone and to be able to stop that pain by offering the other person comfort. But when you can’t offer meaningful, immediate comfort to another person in a personal way either through physical means or through helpful speech, what are you left with? For some people I feel like the result is a constant low-grade

(or sometimes high grade) anxiety, traumatic stress and depression. The tidal wave of suffering feels so great you are mentally drowning in it if you are the kind of person who experiences empathy for others very strongly. You might be motivated to participate in charities and social justice causes, but all the time, the satisfaction that should come from helping people is out of reach, the anxiety and sadness at other’s distress is still there because no matter what you do, with so many people in the world now, and with news from all corners of the globe constantly in our faces at every moment of the day, you just can’t help everyone. It isn’t possible. Long ago you would only be cognizant of the problems of people in your own little tribe. Dealing with their problems would be mentally manageable and might even benefit you and the other person and strengthen your relationships. Dealing with this tidal wave of billions of people’s problems is unmanageable and hugely distressing. We were not born with the mental equipment to deal with this and it is a huge problem. Avoiding it, in certain societies, to help lessen your stress is not even possible. Everywhere you look, TV screens, radios and newspapers are blaring the death tolls of the most recent atrocity. This media diet distorts your perception, because when all you hear about are huge horrific events, the regular day to day repetitive actions that occupy most of what people are doing all over the world, like today Soorya milked a goat or Bob picked his toddler up from daycare don’t make the news. Some day, I think the world will have to reckon with the mental health problems that this constant media diet of negative and fearful imagery causes humans who have no means to influence the distressing things that are mentioned. Obviously, it is important to know what is happening in the world in some sense, to hold governments accountable when they act in ways that harm people. However part of the problem is even when we see that unfairness is happening we don’t have the tools to help stop it or a deeper understanding of why problems are occurring and how we can help is left out of the reporting. This makes people feel helpless and out of control and it doesn’t help the people who are suffering in the end. Some people are able to deal with this constant exposure to suffering that we can’t help, through selectively turning their compassion and empathy faculties on and off. As someone who can’t do this on my own, I am constantly astounded to witness other people do this. Part of me is slightly jealous of this ability while part of me is highly suspicious of it. People who can do this, I’ve noticed can also be very reckless with others emotions if they believe a relationship with that other person doesn’t forward their own goals. There is something that feels lacking to me about a human that can operate in such a ruthless capacity, but these are also people who seem able to have a lot of success because their mental processes are so efficient with regards to empathy. People can often show great love and compassion for their family and friends, but have little to no compassion for people outside the group they qualify as their “tribe.” How modern people define tribe, as people who share the same religion, community, fan base, sexuality, ethnicity or even as narrowly as their own nuclear family can vary. But I would say the majority of humans display this ability to switch their empathy on and off depending on whether someone is considered part of their tribe or not. This is also, sad to say, a very human quality. In a world where your tribe was your survival, outside tribes who might steal your resources, or kill or steal members of your tribe were far more dangerous than wild beasts you might encounter. I was bullied pretty harshly as a kid and I still maintain that the whole in-group/out-group dialectic that is such a part of human experience is one of the ugliest facets of human nature there is. Most disturbing of all, it is not contrary to human

nature, as most anti-social behaviours seem to be coded as, but is often seen as positive with no social costs in-group. A person who shows altruism and fealty to their own group can show the worst sadism and cruelty to out-group members without the corresponding social penalties they would face if they were to behave the same way in their own group. There is a reason in the Torah there are numerous directives “to love the stranger as yourself” and to “be kind to the stranger” and other lessons about hospitality to people who aren’t from your town because they might be (in Abraham’s case) angelic messengers. If everybody treated strangers and out group members the same as they treated their family members there wouldn’t be so much advice about showing hospitality to those unlike ourselves. The instinct of “stranger danger” is high in human beings and starts before we can talk. Studies done with pre-verbal human infants show that when confronted with two different strangers, one who speaks their own language and one who talks a different language, the infants shunned the foreign language speaking individual more than the person who talked their own language, even if they couldn’t talk or even fully understand that language yet themselves! The corresponding instinct of curiosity in some of us and eagerness to find out and know about something outside our own experience is thankfully, a good check to the stranger-danger feeling in some of us. Sadly, the stranger-danger instinct can get stronger as people get older and lose some of their mental flexibility and the world also changes a lot from the world they grew up in. If you aren’t mindful of that tendency of the human brain, then you can get caught up in thinking that all the changes are bad and threatening and feel fearful and angry at the world as you get older. Also, the more adverse experiences you have with other people, the more they seem to trail after you as you get older, colouring your ability to trust others and harming your interpersonal relationships if you’re not careful. While it may be more mentally healthy to only extend your empathy to members of your own group, feel like society as a whole suffers tremendously when we do this. We don’t live in isolated tribes anymore. Even if the effects are not apparent to us, our actions do effect the lives of other people, sometimes far away. We need new ways and new transparency laws to let us understand what the costs to others of the goods we purchase are, where they come from and what sort of labour conditions those goods are sourced under. We also need more alternatives to buy ethically, that are within most people’s budgets. Having the choice between ethically sourced goods that cost way more than a normal family can afford and goods sold in stores that only offer part-time jobs and starvation wages to their employees that utilize slave labour in other countries for manufacturing doesn’t really offer a choice. If you don’t have a lot of money you can’t afford to be ethical, which seems wrong. How come I can get a food item at the store and every single ingredient that went into it is listed on the back of the package, but how the item was made, where and with what sort of labour is left out? As a consumer we should be afforded the ability to make ethical purchases. There should be some sort of international independent organization with actual teeth that oversees labour practices across the world and gives companies letter grades and provides this information to the consumer with every purchase. It should be a reliable independent source for the consumer that tells us whether a purchase is helping to perpetuate positive or negative work conditions around the world. Companies that have the best conditions should be rewarded and companies that have the worst should be shut down. Getting everyone on board with the philosophy that humans are all part of one tribe is crucial to improving all our lives. If all children can be taught, from the earliest days that we are all one tribe and that

we are all deserving of love and compassion and the means of survival things will probably improve. As long as people continue to believe in in-group/out-group philosophies that see their own group as some sort of master race or chosen people and everyone else as inferior or misguided and not worthy of the same kind of empathy reserved for members of one’s own tribe— humanity will not grow. Accepting the fact that we are all animals, members of the same species and the same planet, which we have to take care of together is crucial. I’ve lived on Lake Erie and Lake Ontario for most of my life. For those who don’t know both these lakes are partially in the U.S. and partially in Canada and proved most of the water and electricity for the communities around the lakes like Toronto and Hamilton in Canada and Buffalo and Rochester in the U.S and Niagara Falls in both countries. Canada and the U.S. in the past have had different laws governing heavy industry on the lakes. But this is ridiculous, because if a company pollutes on one side of the lake, it automatically causes pollution on the other side as well. Right now countries are acting like the laws they make regarding pollution, labour, immigration and countless other things only affect their own country, when the reality couldn’t be further from the truth. We don’t live in isolated tribes anymore. Every human community is touching countless other communities. We didn’t evolve to live or think this way, but if there’s one thing we humans have mastered, it’s how to adapt. We can adapt to this new world and thinking in a new way about each other and our planet— but we have to stop seeing ourselves as isolated groups and start thinking of the big picture. In this world where our edges all touch each other, we have to be especially cognizant to live peacefully and try to do everything in our power to avoid violence wherever possible. To use a metaphor, you never know how the pollution you dump one one side of the lake will effect a baby yet to be born on the other side of the lake. If there is another choice, even if that choice is just to pause and consider what this action might achieve or to really grapple seriously with the harm it might cause, regardless of whether it is “right” or “deserved.” Make the choice to think before you act. Listen to what other people are feeling who aren’t from your in-group. Even if you don’t agree with them, how can you ever convince them, if you don’t try to understand where they are coming from? More than anything right now I think we need dialogue, not knee jerk reactions. We need nuance, deeper understanding than 150 character soundbites and the ability to listen to each other and the skill of trying to slow down our minds. It is easy to act on anger, greed or fear if you don’t see the people who your actions effect. But we have many tools in our communication arsenal for communicating how we feel to other people and trying to get them to make change. Violence should be very last resort of all the last resorts, not the go-to option. We have to act in accordance with the world we want to live in, in the future, a world that has room for all people. There is no shortage of money, food or land on this planet if we all only take what we need and share with each other. The withholding of these things from others and obscene accumulation of resources for oneself and ones family is not admirable. It is a demonstration of selfish antisocial behaviour and should be seen as such by our society. How our words and actions serve ourselves, our loved ones and the human tribe as a whole and its future existence on this Earth is worth considering.

#being human

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kyberphilosopher · 5 years ago

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Wʜᴀᴛ I'ᴍ Tʜɪɴᴋɪɴɢ Aʙᴏᴜᴛ

“Go ahead and cry little girl... I know how much it matters to you...I'd do whatever I could do. I'd run away and hide with you.”

Word Count: 4176

“He doesn’t care what she tells him or what they talk about, he just loves to hear the sound of her voice. Even better if she has to tell him twice. On the other hand, this could insinuate that he either has a bad memory, is distracted, or is so infatuated with her he can’t concentrate on what she’s telling him.”

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

Everybody on the Mantis seemed to be filled to the brim with something that could never be alleviated.

Things stung like a sunburn... one that was plastered to their brains and wouldn’t go away. Even when the sun would implode in on itself six billion years later, the pink marks and scars wouldn’t fade. All their problems ran so deep- arguably too deep. What could they have done but sat and waited for it to leave them?

Greez Dritus couldn’t stop gambling. The rush of it all... the chance of losing and dying and escaping it each time made him feel invincible. Even when he would lose, it felt so good. It felt right, fated. Godly, even. It nearly destroyed his relationships... almost got one of his crew members killed... but Greez had come back to save him! Not that he needed saving... but it counted for something, didn’t it?

[It didn’t.]

Cere Junda did what she could to let the guilt go. First, she tried confronting it. Then she tried burying it down. Neither of these made her feel any better. She tried meditating, eating, starving, sleeping, ignoring, embracing, and redirecting the guilt. Anything to defer the pain, instead of accepting it. But the more Cere deferred, the more the guilt grew. And the more the guilt grew, the more Cere shrank.

Merrin felt angry too often. Even for her own liking. It was just that, sometimes if she thought too long, or shut her eyes too tight, she could remember her childhood. She could remember being patient and small, just as willing to learn as her fellow nightsisters. She could remember that all was well. But Merrin could also remember the day the armored man came with the droids, and how she wouldn’t have to be patient until she was left alone with no one but the dead.

And Cal Kestis... Cal Kestis might’ve had the worst of it. The man suffered of no addictions, nor physical ailments. On the contrary, in fact. His body was broad and promising from work as a Rigger. Flexible and taut. It was his mind and emotions that was couldn’t seem to function properly.

But it was different from Cere and Merrin’s trauma. It was more intensified, focused, raw on both guilt and loss at once. Cal had been in a complete state of agony since he was twelve years old, since he had held his master’s hand while he died. Master Topal had died for him, after all. Maybe it was for the best that Cal be the one to live with the blame.

Cal thought about this every day. He thought about what he not only could’ve done, but should’ve done. He thought about all the people he’d never be able to love again, and why he didn’t deserve it anyway. Maybe he did have an addiction. Maybe Cal Kestis just loved making himself feel so bad over something nobody but himself hated him for.

It’s not like you were much better.

You felt incredibly heavy with the weight of all the secrets you’d been asked to keep. Strained with all the tapestries of misery you’d been tasked to weave. You were a Slicer, which wasn’t the most morally corrupt job, but it certainly made you feel morally corrupt yourself. Because you doubled as a bounty hunter, you were forced to choose yourself over others. Usually, yourself over the people and things you were turning in.

Once, you had sliced into a mans datapad in search of information you had been tasked with deleting. On this datapad, you found names. Names of children, anywhere between the ages of eight to sixteen, sold off into various different rings. A girl named Aheka Shyn was training to be a medic when she was abruptly kidnapped and sent off to make spice. A boy named Garreth was only fourteen when he’d been stolen from his junk home planet, instead to be sent to an Imperial fighting ring. And you had desperately wanted to send the man to the authorities, arrest him yourself- anything. But if you didn’t delete what you had found, you would’ve starved to death that night.

So you deleted what you found.

There were several more occasions like this, and all of them haunted your memory. You were not a bad person, or even a neutral person. You were much worse. You were a bystander, a failure, the farthest anyone could get from a hero. And you refused to blame anybody but yourself for this revelation.

You would not hate your father, nor blame your actions or lack thereof on the issues he had given you. You would not blame your mother, your brother, your sister- anyone you may or may not have in your life. You wouldn’t blame the first boy who ever broke your heart, or the first girl who had ever let your hands wander against her for false fame. It was you, all you, and if you wanted otherwise, you should’ve given otherwise.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

There are a lot of people in this world, and the next, who find sex to be pleasurable. Sometimes it’s for selfless reasons, and sometimes it’s for selfish reasons. Sometimes it’s simply because it’s one of the many cures for boredom. Maybe the purpose for your particular instance didn’t matter very much. It was pleasurable for you and Cal, and that was enough.

You’d liked Cal for a long time. It was difficult not to. First thing you knew about him was that he had a great taste in music. Second thing you knew about him was that he didn’t know when to ask and not ask questions. The third, and most obvious thing you knew about him, was that he was a good person. From anyone’s point of view but his own, he was someone to be admired and respected. His whole life, the entirety of all occupations he’d had, were based around helping others. And you knew this was further proof that you weren’t good enough for him, but that night was the night that you couldn’t resist any longer.

Cal had given you his consent, and you had given him yours. Both of you were worn out and too honest from the events of the long day, but mentally sober enough to be clear in your mindsets. You knew what was happening. No drugs, no alcohol, no manipulation. You’d found yourself in his quarters while everyone else slept for one reason or another, and then you’d done it.

The act hadn’t lasted long. Both of you were too excited at the heat and promise of intercourse from the time you’d gone without. Not because you couldn’t get intercourse, but because you couldn’t find it within yourselves to muster up enough trust for anybody to touch you so. But then something had snapped between you and Cal, resulting in the rather hot and aroused endeavor.

When it was done and the finger tipped shaped bruises were beginning to form on your hips, your first clear thought cut through like a knife. [“Oh, fuck.”] It wasn’t because there was a good chance that Cal had partially finished inside of you. It wasn’t because either of you had failed to think of any quick source of protection. It was because the consequences of your actions stretched beyond the physical ones.

Were you in a relationship now? What if you weren’t? What if you wanted to be, and he didn’t? What if he wanted to be, and you said otherwise? What if this meant nothing to him? You didn’t know if you believed Cal to be that type of person, but your work as a Bounty Slicer before joining the Mantis crew was enough to teach you to never assume anything about anyone. Where were either of you to go from here?

Cal Kestis was in no position to be in a relationship. He’d told you that tonight, not with his lips, but with his fingers. When people become intimate as you have, sometimes they manage to share more than just their bodies. Cal had managed to share with you just why and how you were wrong about his mental and emotional state. He’d revealed his anguish, his fear of losing people. He’d revealed that he was angry deep inside, that he’d had more than a few regrets in his life. You didn’t know how or why- you’d always been too respectful to ask about his past. But now you had some twisted form of confirmation.

You looked over at him, deep in thought. Cal’s skin was glistening with a thin layer of sweat as he began to regain his breath. His hair was falling in soft, orange locks by his eyes. His lashes were long and dark brown, and seemed heavy as he blinked. You can see the old, mauve gash that stretches from his neck to his cheek like a line in a poem.

The boy raises his veined, left hand to push his hair back. With close eyes and a heaving chest, he says, “was it alright?”

In truth, it was much, much better than alright. Maybe you had low standards for not being touched for so long, but you really believed it was fantastic. A little blurred together from the pace and the clouded mind, but unmistakable in the sensations you’d earned from it. “Yes,” you managed to reply.

Cal sighed finally, eyes still shut. His breathing was beginning to calm down at this point, but your mind was still racing. With his green orbs still glued shut, Cal reaches his arm around you, and rolls to the side. In a fluid motion, without much effort at all really, Cal pulls you towards him until your bare back meets his bare chest.

Cal groans lazily a few more times as he adjusts his body around until he’s completely comfortable. He falls asleep in a matter of seconds. You on the other hand, feel tired, but buzzed. Almost like your deep dark thoughts have the same affect as caffeine.

What the hell was that? You cry out in your mind. What the hell are we going to do now?

But, despite the thoughts that created such anguish after such a pleasurable experience, you could feel yourself sinking into Cal’s embrace. His chest was warm and inviting, and broad enough to snuggle into it at any angle. You didn’t fight too hard to keep your eyes from coming to a stiff close.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

This brings us to now, and why you’ve only said one word to Cal since that night.

It happened about four days ago at this point. You should’ve stayed and voiced your concerns to the boy, but you hadn’t. Instead you’d fallen into a dreamless sleep, only to wake up hours later when the Mantis shook coming out of hyperspace. Cal had removed his arm from around you and turned away, so it was easy to hop up, throw your undergarments on, and rush back to your room before anyone could deduce anything.

It wasn’t that you specifically regretted what you had done- you liked Cal. You liked Cal a lot, actually. The night you spent pressed against him only proved and accelerated that much. But you were an observant person, and you were observant enough to understand that you might’ve just ruined everything.

You weren’t good enough, or worthy enough to be with Cal. He wasn’t perfect, (which would bring you to your next point), but you were even farther from it. How many lives had you ruined just by trying to scrape by? Cal saved and bettered lives like it was nothing. He’d helped the partisans of Kashyyyk without asking for anything in return. He’d informed a single mother of her partners death with as much humility as he could. He’d shown enough empathy towards the Nightsister’s to make even Merrin budge. And you? You hated yourself for all the people you’d let down and would continue to let down into the next life.

But Cal wasn’t in any state of mind to love you. He wasn’t cruel, nor manipulative. But he was damaged and scared of something that scared you more. So how was he ever going to love you? How was he going to put up with you? To take on more suffering than he already struggled with? You couldn’t do that to him, and the option of breaking your heart seemed all the kinder.

And yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. You knew the moment you would be alone with him again, it could’ve gone one of two ways. Way One: that Cal would inform you that he loved you- falsely- and you would fall into his strong arms again and repeat your heated actions. On the other hand, there was Way Two: the way in which Cal told you he loved you, but he couldn’t go any further. Then it would come to an end. Both options upset you, so you decided to freeze yourself in time. Cal could neither lie, nor harm you so long as you kept away from him.

And, as stated above, this went on for four days.

So, there was a build up of frustration within the walls that you’d constructed around yourself. It was a stalemate, and it didn’t take long for you to crack.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

It started slow- the welling of tears across your lower lash line, the flushing of your cheeks, the trembling of your lips. You tried to deny it from happening. You practically shouted at yourself not to cry. It was so stupid. So, so stupid. So... why was it happening?

It overwhelmed you quickly. Your eyes squinted, smearing the drops across your eyes and making your vision blurry. You bit your bottom lip to stop the trembling, but then your nose began to sniffle. It burned to inhale the snot again, and your lips started to quake again. You were lucky you were alone, you thought, before you let the tears fall.

It was night. Or, as nightly as space could get, you supposed. Greez had put the Mantis on autopilot, and hyperspace was whizzing by in indigo and baby blue streaks. White stars laced by in between lines, past the glass of the windows and the metal that had created the space.

All was asleep, except for you. So you allowed yourself to cry, but only if you held yourself to keeping the volume down. And you did. On the steps by the Latero’s terrarium. All of the seeds had grown into miniature plants and trees and flowers by now, blooming in vibrant colors of all kinds. The picture would’ve been so neat and beautiful, if not for your form shaking as you hunched over.

You should not have slept with Cal. Did you regret it? Not exactly. But you still felt so guilty about how much you cared for him, and the knowledge that he couldn’t have actually loved you. You might not have been able to love him too. There was just so many issues that you’d been able to pick up on, especially since you’d done the deed. But Greez had his gambling, Cere had her guilt, Merrin had her anger, and Cal had... Cal had everything. Everything you had shared, every burning mark he’d left on you, it all felt false. Like maybe it wasn’t out of emotions, but a wrong idea.

What a ridiculous thing to cry about, you thought as you cried. But you couldn’t stop. The tears were leaking from you in pearly beads, glistening and swirling with your stress. As much as you hated to admit it, it felt good to cry. You hadn’t done it in a long time, years maybe. There was more than just everything with Cal that was exiting your system along with the tears.

It was from the stress of your father, and whatever he may or may have not done. It was from the stress of work, the stress of your past. The guilt. All of it. It was pouring out of you silently, like the way that someone wrings out a washcloth. The sounds were minimal, and if anyone woke up and heard it, it could easily be mistaken for the little critter on board eating.

However, the person that woke up and heard the noises, didn’t mistake it for the little critter on board eating. In fact, he thought it sounded a lot like someone who was crying, or sniffling. Even if he hadn’t been so observant with his hearing, he could still sense the waves of sadness coming from just past the hallway. They echoed throughout his chest like a wind chime, rippling through him until he felt sad too.

Cal Kestis had a habit of taking on others people’s emotions. He had, even if it didn’t always shine through, an enormous amount of empathy. He had it even for his enemies, and it was the cause of a lot of lost fights.

The Jedi had gone to use the bathroom when his face fell. He looked to the doorway of the stairs for a while, seeing just the outline of someone from his view. He couldn’t make out who it was, but he was quick to rule out Merrin and Greez. This left Cere and yourself, but the hood of your jacket gave it away.

Maker, Cal had to urinate. He had to go so bad. But he went to you first without thinking about it, walking carefully as if not to disturb you. His boots were dropping on the floor louder than he would’ve liked, but it must not have been too loud, since you had not ceased your depressed bobbing or turned around to face him.

Cal didn’t like asking upset people if they were okay, because he was intelligent to understand that being upset was not equal to being okay. But his baby pink lips were already throwing the words out anyway, his voice croaking slightly from the sleep he’d woken up from. “Are you okay?” he ventured out.

Immediately, you turned around with a jump. Your cheeks were a deep shade of magenta, eye lashes long and dark and feathery. Eyes were sparkling beautifully, but for all the wrong reasons. One of your hands hastily wiped your face, as if you had simply sneezed. But Cal had already seen it. He knew you were crying, and you knew that he knew.

“Oh, uh, yeah,” you said as your voice cracked slightly. “Yeah. I’m good.”

“You sure?” Cal asked as he took a hesitant step forward. “You don’t look okay.”

Your eyes flitted from him to the miniature tree in Greez’s terrarium. The branches were curled into detailed little swirls, with leaves sprouting in bushes of bright and dark greens alike. In truth, craning your neck to look over your shoulder strained it for you, and looking away alleviated it just as much as it alleviated seeing the boy. “I’m cool.”

You hoped he would leave it and go away. This was a bit of a long shot, and of course he didn’t. Because Cal Kestis had a big, caring heart that was probably corrupted, but big and caring nonetheless.

He walked nearer to you until finally another step would’ve resulted with him on the stairs too. You didn’t dare look up at him, keeping your eyes on the tree like your life depended on it.

“I don’t think you’re okay,” Cal said in a very tired, but very soft and real voice.

You swallowed, trying to keep the tears from falling again. Your eyes had already begun to glisten again like a threat, and your breathing was becoming shaky. But you were a big girl, and you knew you could keep it together if you just kept your eyes on the tree. Where had Cal gotten it? Kashyyyk?

“I mean maybe I’m tired but... you don’t look okay,” he continued. You could feel his soft green eyes on you as your nostrils flared with anxiety. “You don’t sound okay.”

“I’m just having an off night,” you decided to say. Which, by the way, was a safe enough thing to respond with. It wasn’t necessarily a lie- you were having an off night. But somehow it still felt like it wasn’t the truth.

“Can you please look at me?” the boy said softly, though it felt somewhat dominant.

Maybe if you looked at him and kept telling yourself to keep it together, you could. Maybe it would help. Like confronting a dare or showing up an enemy. Was that how you saw Cal now? An enemy?

Your knees croaked in protest as you pushed yourself off the floor. When you stood at your full height, much lower than him due to being a step lower, you lost sight of the tree. Cal’s left shoulder was in the way, covered by a black shirt and dark blue poncho. You followed the seam of it down where his collarbone would be, up the neck to where you had left a few marks, around his jaw and finally to his eyes. They were piercing and begging, and you knew at once you shouldn’t have accepted the challenge of looking into them.

“Are you okay Y/N?” he repeats.

You bite your bottom lip as the tears well again, telling yourself to nod yes. But for some reason, the message doesn’t get from your brain to the nerves or muscles in your head, and instead it shakes no.

Cal reaches his arms around your shoulders again and pulls you into him until your head hits his chest. It’s a bit of a weird angle and position, but it feels nice to rest against something. He’s quick to notice your trembling and slowly eases his knees into a bend as you follow, though you’re more melting like putty.

You start crying again right before he hits the stairs. It’s a little louder than it was before Cal arrived, but only because he knows you feel more protected and comfortable enough to do so. Still, he keeps you close as both a courtesy to others, and yourself. And it’s nice because you can see the tree again, but this time you can hear the rhythm of his heart as well.

Both of his strong, engineer hands are caressing you- one against your shoulder and the other in your hair. Stroking softly and quietly as a contradiction to your sobs, like something calm against something wracking.

It made you cry more when you realized how calm Cal was to all of this. He stayed steady and upright so you could be comfortable against him- you could already feel the tension forming in his back. But his eyes were closed instead of looking around awkwardly. He wasn’t asleep, but it was like his body was entirely dedicated to taking care of you in the moment. He knew how much it meant for you to cry, even if you thought the reasons were stupid and ridiculous and you’d done your best to stop it. He let it happen anyway, and he’d let it happen on him. And if you didn’t know, that’s an incredibly nice thing to do for someone.

You felt like a little girl again, but this time it felt better. It felt like maybe someone actually wanted you to be okay.

Cal didn’t even ask what was wrong. Not yet, anyway. He just stayed in his position, tracing loving circles into your skin without really knowing the reasons why. He cared, but not as much as he cared about you being alright first. That meant something to you. It meant that he cared about you more than whatever reasons that galaxy could come up with. It meant that he’d put you first, before logic or shadows of facts or evidence. For now, at least.

In turn, Cal wanted to do everything he could for you. He didn’t know what was hurting you. He’d ask after, when he’d whisked you off to somewhere special and warm and safe that existed just between the two of you. Like your own little planet with a thousand different rings and scenery. Because, like said before, Cal Kestis has an enormous amount of empathy, and a very big heart.

So, you thought, maybe he can love me like I love him.

[He could.]

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

I really came into this trying my best but then I feel like it slowly spiraled as I progressively got more tired. I always say I’ll go back and edit but then I get distracted by the Clone Wars and start something new.

This was based of the song Daddy Issues by the Neighbourhood. I suggest listening to it. AND if there’s any other characters you’d like me to use for this song than tell me! I really like it a lot. anyway, butts.

Taglist: @omg-we-really-doo @haztory @fanficsforheartandsoul [can’t even remember if you’re actually on my taglist but i just tag you in everything anyway i’m so sorry], @anakinswhore @chokemeanakin @kit-jpg

#Cal kestis #cal kestis x reader #cal kestis imagine #cal x reader #jedi fallen order x reader #jfo #jedi fallen order imagine #jedi fallen order fanfiction #cal kestis fanfiction #x reader #star wars x reader #star wars imagine #star wars imagines #cal kestis imagines #cal fanfiction #cal-kestis-imagine

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itsclydebitches · 5 years ago

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Whats the appeal of WOW? Every time I try to play any MMO it quickly feels like a second job and busywork. I can see the fun if you have a group of friends, but I can't imagine doing daily quest and all that just for yourself.

That’s definitely a tough question and you’ll no doubt get different answers from different people. When we talk about the appeal of video games we often talk about flow: the state of complete immersion achieved when you know what you need to do, have the skill to achieve that goal, yet are still being challenged by the game itself, resulting in an almost loss of consciousness where time passes without you realizing. Flow is that excellent feeling when you’re so into the game that three hours pass in the blink of an eye. The best games have a balance between microflow (short, intense interactions) and macroflow (the game adapting to the player’s skill level in order to consistently allow microflow to exist), but both, at their core, work to avoid boredom. And repetitive tasks are boring... right?

Ignoring for a moment that repetitive tasks can be engaging for a lot of people (I personally like the satisfaction of “busywork,” something I can achieve without having to have my mind 100% on. Because let’s face it, I don’t want every game to be Riven or Hollow Knight. Sometimes you need a mental break lol), we also have the other addictive element of gaming: reward systems. Perhaps the task itself isn’t the most enthralling, but the reward you get for it is great. More importantly, games like WoW have an incredibly complex tiered system of rewards that feel really satisfying because you’re slowly building towards something epic. Sure, killing 15 of this mob each day isn’t inherently the most exciting thing, but when you do that you get a bit of anima. Get enough anima and you can update your covenant. Update your covenant to participate in this event. Participate in the event to hopefully get some of these resources (gambling). Use the resources to level up your trade skills. Use your trade skills to make a better piece of armor. Use the armor to - finally - enter the latest raid and get something even better. It’s an intricate web of rewards that makes doing “boring” tasks enticing. It’s even more complicated when you chuck in additional rewards like reputation and gold. Each task provides a variety of ways that you’re forwarding your character, meaning that you get a whole lot for a little effort.

Which alone probably wouldn’t be enough to sustain WoW’s popularity. After all, most mobile games have the most simplistic of busywork (tap the screen) with even faster rewards, but we usually drop them within a few minutes. WoW works because it’s the reward system on top of a lot of other game elements:

The skill needed to complete daily tasks (it’s not always as easy as we’d assume. “You’re just clicking buttons” misses aspects like how to play your class, or how to manage different kinds of mobs/the area around other players. As a hunter, I am VERY familiar with the intense hatred that comes if you’re not deemed “good enough.”)

Daily tasks functioning as mini games (match things, fly through hoops, answer riddles, etc. Things that we already enjoy, just set into another game.)

Daily tasks (can) forward the main storyline, so you do them in part to find out what happens to the characters you’ve grown attached to (I am LOVING this expansion’s story and crossing my fingers we get a Revendreth novel).

Getting to read the additional story elements attached to each quest (NPC characterizations, history of the zone you’re in, funny references, etc. I’d happily do a thousand more tasks with the Maldraxxus dude who thinks I’m his apprentice.)

The unpredictability of other player interaction.

WoW’s daily/questing/reward system is already massive enough to keep people engaged for a variety of reasons, but it’s also, notably, not a single player game. If doing stuff with friends is a crucial part of enjoying a game for you, WoW offers that in spades. I know players who pretty much only engage in PvP battles. Players who most enjoy being part of a guild. Players who run quest or dungeon groups. Even if you’re not doing something that strictly forces player interaction, you still get it in a lot of cool ways. I was chatting with a girl last night as we helped each other with a world quest. A few weeks back my battleground turned into an AMAZING two hour turtle and the whole party was making jokes about our new blood bond. I was laughing just an hour ago at someone calling out a rare and 7 other people responding “omw,” then dragging one another for being predictable. I’m not going to pretend that WoW is all sunshine and roses - it’s easily the most toxic game community I’ve ever been in - but it can be very social and when those social aspects are good, they’re good.

So it’s a lot of fun to run something like Torghast with people, all of us suffering together. It’s also fun to challenge myself and see if I can complete a run solo. One of the great parts about MMO’s is the sheer variety they have. You can do those daily tasks... or collect battle pets, work on trade skills, PvP, earn gold to buy that cool mount, talk to other players, go hunt treasure, try to figure this riddle out, earn achievements, slowly take over the auction house... it’s like a whole life. Which, yes, means that like real life you may have “chores” that you “have” to do in order to receive a certain reward, but it’s usually something you’re willing to do because you want what comes later/the task itself is engaging for any number of reasons (skill, story, mystery, etc. There are world quests I adore doing each day because they’re just plain fun). Or, you can simply not do it. It may not be the “correct” way to play the game, but WoW is an open world with an insane number of things to do in it. If you want to ignore the daily quests and just fish non-stop, no one can stop you. It’s only like a job if you force it to be one. Which, admittedly, is an easy mindset to fall into. Sometimes I find myself going, “Ugh I hate this quest I don’t want to do it!” and then I remember oh, right, I don’t have to lol. Let’s wait until tomorrow when there are different quests and go work on this achievement instead.

A lot of WoW’s flow is long-term. You still get those intense moments - like PvP and raiding - but the immersion largely comes from investing in this character of an extended period. Me? I’ve played the same character for nearly thirteen years. Not to be, you know, weird about it, but she’s absolutely a part of my identity now. Whether you’re focused on a main or bouncing between alts, it’s a long haul sort of enjoyment. That means you may not enjoy every second of your play time, but you enjoy the overall experience of building this person into the type of character you want them to be. I absolutely lose hours to WoW not because every task is 100% enthralling, but because where you’re taking your character has satisfaction and pride attached to it. “One more task and then I’ll have achieved ____” is really addicting, both for yourself and for bragging rights with your friends ;)

#gaming #world of warcraft #Anonymous

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mor-beck-more-problems · 5 years ago

Text

Wickedness Must Be Punished || Morgan & Miriam

TIMING: Yesterday evening, after Morgan and Mercy’s confrontation

PARTIES: @meflemming, @mor-beck-more-problems

SUMMARY: Go, and hunt her, and find her, and kill her...

CONTAINS: mild violence, non-specific discussion of torture

Morgan’s only hope was that Jo would come back to clear out her things before moving on to the next town or trying to find Marina again. Morgan snapped the unit open with her bolt cutters and shined her flashlight inside. Half the shelves were empty, but there were still some valuable items that the witch had to be coming back for. Morgan stuck the cutters back in her bag and inched her way in, casting a glance back at Miriam. “The specimen jars are a dime a dozen, and so are the materials for the right trade, but her failed tests on whatever the fuck she’s trying to acheive...,” she she flashed her light up to the wings and the misshapen skulls. “I think she’ll be back for them. Sooner than later if she’s smart. Should we go outside and wait for her to turn up, or check back at the hotel?”

Looking around the abomination of a laboratory with Morgan, Miriam wrinkled her nose in disgust. This was what spellcasters were. Horrible, wretched people who played with something they could never understand, perverting magic to their own whims and using it to harm others. She picked up a jar filled with eyes before setting it back down, a frown on her face. She felt her the color in her eyes bleed from green to red and had to shut them tightly. When she got her hands on the witch bitch that did this, Miriam would make sure she knew what it was like to suffer. Just like she’d made all these people suffer. “We should go outside and wait. You’re absolutely right. These are her prizes, her research. She won’t simply leave it behind. She can’t. I’m quite sure of it.”

“Yeah, she was uh, pretty proud of it the last time we were here,” Morgan said. “Does this mean you spend a lot of time thinking about the mind habits of witches? Are you suddenly the witch whisperer all of a sudden?” She backed away, feeling sick all over as she remembered Jo’s offer and the awful color of her blood circle and the way she’d tried to poison Mercy. She had nearly backed out the unit when she saw headlights flash and footsteps outside. “Shit,” she hissed, and turned off her flashlight. There was nowhere to go, no escape route where they wouldn’t instantly be seen. “Shit, shit…”

“Oh, fuck this.” Jo Muscgraves took one look at her storage unit and knew it wasn’t worth it. Years of gathering samples and cataloguing her finding, years of experiments, of trouble, of cleaning the blood out of different floors, all down the drain. This was more than a stupid setbak, this was tanking her life’s work. But if she tried to fight for it now, she was a dead woman. She turned on her heel and started running just the way she’d come.

“Of course she was. Bitch,” Miriam practically snarled out. Just like a witch to be proud of all of this. Crimes against living creatures like this was truly wretched, and Miriam wanted to do nothing more than make this woman pay. “Sometimes, dearest, I have to do the unthinkable and get inside a little witch’s head. Find out what makes them tick.” She winked. “I like to think I’ve got a way with witches, yes. I thought you were aware of this by now.” She’d only barely gotten the words out of her mouth before she heard the sound of footsteps fleeing the storage unit. “Fuck me,” Miriam groaned. She gave chase, her vampiric speed allowing her to catch up to and launch herself in front of the fleeing woman. Miriam planted her heels in the ground and put her hands on the woman’s shoulders. She gave a smile that her mother had once called breathtaking in the saddest tone of voice, and she cheerily said. “Oh, I don’t think so, darling. Jo, was it? Correct me if I’m wrong, though. I really hate being wrong.”

Jo wriggled in the woman’s grasp. She was still drained from the last encounter, focusing more on getting out of town fast before Marina organized her retaliation than she did on getting through another fight. She had been stupid, no better than an amateur. “Like hell I’m telling you anything,” she hissed, and struck out, kicking the woman in the kidneys and reaching for her face. A little burn might buy her some time but-- “Fuck!”

Morgan swung the heavy flashlight against Jo’s head again. Knocking someone out with a little blunt force trauma looked a hell of a lot easier in the movies. Jo didn’t collapse into a heavy sleep this time, but a heavy dent caved into her skull and she stumbled, eyes rolling strangely as she tried to keep her bearings. “Oh, it’s her,” Morgan said. “Trust me. So, uh, we should probably get her out of here while she’s out of it, right?”

Growling at the blow to her side but otherwise not moving, Miriam shifted a bit as the woman stumbled before grabbing her by the wrists and pulling them tightly behind her back. She looked at Morgan. “Thank you.” She had no idea that flashlights were such formidable weapons. “You’re right, of course. Though…” Miriam’s eyes glinted wickedly as she gave Morgan a grin. “Wouldn’t it just be a shame if our new friend here were to see her research get laid to ruin?” She tightened her grip around Jo’s wrists, careful to avoid her hands. Though, if she was as powerful as she thought she was, Jo would likely have no problem burning Miriam through the skin to skin contact, but the witch hunter was not concerned. She was in control here, and she had plans to feed well.

Morgan quirked an interested brow at Miriam’s suggestion. “I didn’t think you’d be so thoughtful, but alright. And, just so you know, I’d hardly say you had my head all figured out. Not all casters are the same, and I distinctly remember something about surprising you.” Nevertheless, she went over to the storage unit and started knocking every jar from the shelf. When that was done she went for the worktable, scraping all the tools against the wood, sending splinters flying. It was one of those drafting tables with a compartment underneath and Morgan flipped it open with ease, dumping all the papers and flash drives onto the ground. Those, she took special care to crush under her foot. She took a look at the framed wings on the wall and lifted them off their hook. “I think I’ll keep these as a parting gift, if that’s okay with you, Jo. For all the good times. Ooh, and some of these teeth...and these...flipping Universe, nail clippings? And people think I’m weird.”

Jo could not see straight, but she didn’t need all her faculties in order to know what was happening. She strained against the cold, undead grip around her wrists and tried in vain to lurch forward. “You don’t know what you’re doing! You don’t know the advancements, the cures, people’s hopes are in those!”

“I do, on occasion, have very thoughtful ideas,” Miriam said, teasingly. She rolled her eyes. “I suppose you surprised me a bit, darling, but I believe you’re the exception to the rule.” As Jo struggled, Miriam held her tighter and twisted a bit, reveling in the other woman’s pain and panic. “If you struggle,” she purred, leaning close to the woman’s ear, “I will make this so much worse.” She watched As Morgan began tearing apart the storage unit, grinning as the little witch had to bear witness to the destruction of what she saw as her livelihood. “You haven’t brought any sort of hope, Jo. All you’ve done is bring about destruction, pain. When we’re done, darling, all of your supposed advancements and cures will be nothing. You will be nothing. No one will care to remember your work or your face or your name.” Again, she twisted Jo’s wrists.

Morgan knocked the last of the samples over and went to tearing up pages she’d scattered by the handful and crushing all the little flash drives under her foot. “Gosh, I really hope that was special,” she said, watching Jo’s face twitch as one crunched in particular. She came over to the woman, grimacing as she saw her own horrified fascination mirrored back. “I just want you to know from the bottom of my heart, before things get dicier, that this isn’t because you’re a witch, Jo. It’s because you rolled into this town and you slaughtered a nineteen year old fae and dumped whatever you were through with in the trash where I could find her. I’ve talked with the fae about this, and they say it’s custom for assholes like you to be tortured. Tortured until you’re way past anything you inflicted on Coraline Adams.” She reached for the chain around Jo’s neck and ripped it free from her. A vial amulet with sand for transmutation. Of fucking course. “Torture’s not really my department of expertise, but I promise, I’ve brought in an expert. Just for you.” She backed away, crushing the little vial in her fist.

“I’m the expert, darling,” Miriam said brightly, allowing her eyes to shift to red and her fangs to drop. Maybe this was about the fae for Morgan, all the harm this woman had done to a very proud and secular community for what she deemed to be the good of humankind. Miriam

Felt bad about it, certainly, but, for her, it was because Jo was a witch. Though she had no doubt in her mind that this excuse of a woman would have been cruel and terrible even without magic, magic allowed her to act on those cruelties in ways that no mere human could. Magic was power, and human beings didn’t deserve such powers. “I would like, when your eyes can focus after that lovely knock to the head you received, for you to look at your work, Jo, and I want you to see just how easily it was destroyed. So much work, so much effort, and now it’s just nothing.” Quieter, Miriam leaned in a bit more, her mouth near the witch’s ear. Her fear was palatable, and Miriam enjoyed it for just a moment before she spoke. “I know you because I see you. Wicked and ruined to your core. We’re similar in that respect, you and I, and we’re similar in this respect as well: no one will remember our names. But do you know what they will remember? I am a witch hunter, and you, my dear, are nothing more than prey. I take great pleasure in the assurance that you truly deserve what’s coming to you.”

Jo wriggled away from the vampire’s touch as much as she could. She lurched forwards, muscles straining, bones tight in their sockets. “You selfish pigs!” She cried. “You’re just stupid, murderous pigs!” She strained against the vampire again, kicking and flailing out with her legs until she lost her balance and sunk to her knees. There was another crack of bone on the impact. “You don’t understand, you can’t even begin to understand…The world is a better place without those animals in it, even before I balanced them in the universe with my work. But why should you care about balancing harm? You’re one of them.” She spat at Morgan and the wad of saliva landed on her shoe.

Morgan watched, her face empty except for her furrowed brow. Jo’s words prickled with their familiarity and desperate earnestness. She understood a lot more than the witch reckoned from her, she just didn’t see how this idea crossed into murdering young girls or stockpiling remains for her alchemy lab. How one human could excuse so many dead fae, wolves, and undead. “I understand enough,” she muttered, wrapping her arms around herself.

“Enough of this.” Fighting wasn’t Miriam’s strong suit; she much preferred the lure and trap methods of hunting. However, she knew how to knock someone out, and knock Jo out she did. She couldn’t stand to hear the other woman ramble any longer. And it was just rambling, that was all, no matter how similar it sounded to her own ideals. Miriam took Jo under the arms as the other woman began to drop, and she looked at Morgan with a raised eyebrow. “Rude little thing, wasn’t she?” She looked down at the witch in her arms. It was impossible to tell that she was a witch. She just seemed like a normal, unconscious human. Miriam used to try and convince herself that she could sense the magic in witches, that she inherently knew who was what. Of course, she knew better, now, but sometimes she still tried to cling to that, even if it was just in her head. Not tonight, though. “You don’t have to try to understand her, Morgan,” she said quietly. “Sometimes, there are simply things that cannot, and should not, be understood.”

Morgan watched Miriam dispatch her work with cold, practiced ease. She jumped back, startled by how swift it all happened. “Yeah. She’s...something alright.” Knocked out, Jo didn’t look like much, a realization that made her skin crawl. She knew plenty of heartless people who looked harmless on the surface, but no one who had done anything so horrible as Jo. Looking up, she wondered if she should count Miriam in that camp as well, or if her hurt, her species, made her different. Better. “People have their reasons for what they do, don’t they? Even if they’re delusional or psychotic--” But Jo had been convinced she was helping. That she could transmute a cure for normalcy on the backs of tortured supernaturals. “What are you going to do to her?”

“She’s nothing, really. She’s not worth your time.” Miriam started moving the unconscious woman out of the storage unit and away, back to where she’d parked the car. “People have reasons for doing terrible things, certainly. However, you must always remember that a terrible thing is still a terrible thing.” She gave Morgan a wink, though there wasn’t much feeling behind it. “Take it from someone you know that does terrible things on a regular basis.” There were those out there that would look at Jo and then look at Miriam and see two sides of the same coin. Perhaps they were. Except Miriam hadn’t deluded herself into thinking that what she did wasn’t killing. She killed, slaughtered, destroyed, all on a regular basis. There were no other words for what she did. She was big enough to acknowledge them, to see them for what they were, and to continue down her path because there was a part of her, too large to ignore, that told her she must. “Well, I suppose I’ll take her back to my house. She should last me a few days, and feeding off someone like her will keep me full for some time.” She looked at the zombie and cocked her head. “You’re welcome to the scraps, if you want them.”

Morgan grimaced as she followed Miram to the car. She didn’t like feeding on humans as a first resort because she didn’t like other brains, other selves, sloshing around when on some days there was already so little of herself. She didn’t want Jo touching anything inside her. It was bothersome enough that she claimed to believe in the same things Morgan did. “No, thank you,” she said. “I don’t want to know what someone like that tastes like.” She cleared her throat. “Sorry, did you say days?” She thought back to the bloodstains on the floor of the wine cellar, the arc of the splatter in some places. There were no rusty knives or tainted bats, what little she understood of Miriam suggested cleanliness, or personalness, to her mind. A clean blade; a bloody, broken nail.

Letting Jo’s body drop to the ground, Miriam unlocked the trunk to her car. Not an enjoyable place to wake up, but, then again, Miriam had no desire to make Jo’s experience enjoyable or pleasant in anyway. “Suit yourself, dearest. But, truly, evil doesn’t taste bad.” She hefted Jo’s body into the trunk and slammed it closed, leaning against the back of the car. “Several days, yes. I’m not particularly interested in her blood. I feed on more than that. So, I’ll spend several days with her, we’ll get to know each other a bit better, and then, when she’s adequately paid for the things she’s done, I’ll put her out of her misery.” She crossed her arms, loosely. “Does this work for you? I assumed that you wanted me to help you with this because you know what I’m capable of.”

“Yeah, well, you don’t have to feel their personality inside you,” Morgan grumbled. She watched Jo loaded into the car like unwanted luggage, something you hauled with resentment like a shoddy microwave. The lid closed, drawing darkness over the scene. The sheer amount of time Miriam described was enough to spend her head turning. “You don’t have to put her out of her misery when you kill her,” Morgan said at last, still staring at the trunk of the car. “If she needs a day or two to get some feeling back in her senses so she can recognize pain again when you do it, by all means. I want it to hurt, right to the very end.” She let out a long breath, just so the concentration would take her mind away from the tension in her nerves. “And yes. I asked you here because you’re an expert. You’re going to live up to your hype, right?”

“That’s really a thing?” Huh. That was new to Miriam. Though, in her defense, undead things weren’t her area of expertise. “Oh, I don’t?” she asked. Impressed by Morgan’s ability to speak the words out loud. She laughed, the sound low in her throat. “It’s less about ending her misery and more about ending my boredom. Playing with your food for too long is only fun for a few days. I promise you, there won’t be more than a moment where she is not completely miserable and in pain. I rarely let my prey pass easily.” There was a feeling in the pit of Miriam’s stomach over the knowledge that, for as long as she walked the earth, she would be more known for her sins than her virtues. At least she looked good no matter what. “Dearest,” she said with a fanged smile. “I live up to the hype and then some.”

#wr miriam #wr chatzy #wr miriam chatzy #wickedness must be punished #wr #wickedswriting

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darks-ink · 5 years ago

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Absurdism Chapter 12

*casually drops headcanons all over this chapter*

Rating: Teen/K+ (a lil swearing, because teenagers, man) Warnings: - Genre: Family, Hurt/Comfort Additional Tags: Sibling Bonding, Family Bonding, Alternate Universe - Halfa Jazz AU, Jazz makes friends

[AO3] [FFN] [more Absurdism on Tumblr] First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

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Chapter 12: Control Freaks

Cold air curled in Jazz’ lungs, and she paused in her flight. She’d been expecting it, yes, but not this soon. Normally her ghost sense wouldn’t pick up on Sidney until she actually entered the school. To have it go off this soon… Was he outside?

Concern niggled in her brain, and she turned herself invisible. She would just check the school grounds and make sure he wasn’t in any trouble. During times like these, she wished she was as good as a tracker as Phantom, but apparently that was a hard skill—and a late one.

Luckily it wasn’t that hard to find Sidney. He was hidden from the crowd of students, but not actually hidden hidden.

More surprising was the person he was apparently talking with: Valerie.

Jazz bit her lip, hesitating for just a moment. Should she listen in? No, definitely not. That was just… creepy. She could just join it like a regular person. A better question would be, join as Specter or join as Jazz? But that, too, was an easy question to answer.

She ducked into a bush—not too close, but not overly far away—and shifted back to her human form. It was Jazz, after all, that had connections to both Valerie and Sidney, and who had encouraged Valerie to be nicer to ghosts.

A few determined steps brought her back towards her talking… friends? Was friends the right word to use? Sure, whatever, she was allowed to call them friends in her internal dialogue. A few determined steps brought her back towards her talking friends, and Jazz pushed her way through the brush, glancing between human and ghost.

“Hey, thought I heard your voices. What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Valerie quickly assured her. Next to her, Sidney nodded. Huh. That was surprising.

Jazz shot them both a doubtful look. “Last time I checked, Valerie, you still thought ghosts were scum, and you only talked to Sidney because he had information about Ember, and only while I was there. What changed?”

Valerie shrugged kind of uncertainly. She didn’t say anything.

“Oh, well.” Jazz looked at Sidney, but he wasn’t any help either. “Would it help if… I told you about how we met? Sidney and I?”

“Yeah, I’ve been wondering about that, actually.” Valerie nodded.

“Alright, so.” Jazz clapped her hands together, grinning at Valerie, and ignoring Sidney’s nerves. Now, how to tell this story with as little lying as possible but without giving away her secret… “So, ghosts were kind of becoming a generally known thing, right? Obviously my parents already believed in them, but now proof was coming out that ghosts really are real, yeah?”

Valerie nodded along, and Jazz continued. “And I saw some kids getting bullied, and I… I just hate that. Having to watch it happen to other kids, knowing they won’t target me, but also being powerless to stop it. So I started wondering… If ghosts are real, who says that the Sidney Poindexter from those Casper High rumors isn’t also real?”

“Okay…” Valerie said, slowly. “So then why did he suddenly start showing up? Did you meet him afterwards, and was he—” She turned to Sidney, “You, sorry, were you lured here by something? Why did ghost activity go up so much?”

Sidney shot Jazz a worried glance, then, cautiously, explained. “I have a special portal to the Ghost Zone, and only I can go through it. Jazz found it, and must’ve guessed that that was it, because she tried talking to me through it. That’s when I started becoming active around here, and we actually spoke not too long after.”

“I see…” Valerie’s eyes narrowed in Jazz’ direction, almost suspiciously, but she nodded anyway. “What about Specter and Phantom? They seem pretty set on stopping other ghosts from coming here. Didn’t they have a problem with you, or can you avoid them with your portal?”

“It’s not like that,” Sidney immediately corrected, shaking his head. “It’s not— they’re not like animals, it’s not some kind of territorial dispute. There are lots of ghosts out there that could—and would—hurt humans if left to their own devices. Usually not on purpose, although exceptions exist, but because they don’t know any better. Most animal ghosts, for example, and plenty of more intelligent ones as well. It’s…”

He made a face. “It’s kind of hard to remember, sometimes, how easy it is to hurt a human. If you’ve been a ghost for a while. Jazz warns me, sometimes, if I toe the line. If my retaliation against bullies becomes a little too much. But not every ghost has human friends, or contacts, or would even care if they accidentally got a little too rough. That is why Phantom and Specter patrol, and help the town. And sometimes…”

Sidney shrugged, smiling a little. “Sometimes they help ghosts, too. They gave me some of the earlier pointers, on how far I could reasonably go, and how to stay safe from ghost hunters. On places I could go to see… the see life, to see the human world, without getting pounced on by ghost hunters.”

“I… see.” Valerie nodded, slowly, and Jazz could almost see the gears turning in her head. “So there might be… more ghosts, out in Amity, and no one but them would know about it?”

“Possibly,” Sidney agreed. “But I don’t think many of them stay for long. Natural portals are finicky, and portals like mine are, well, extremely rare, and only work for one ghost. Most of the others that travel to Amity come through the Fenton’s artificial portal, but that’s…” He made a face. “Well, you kind of have to pass through a ghost hunter’s lab just to come and go. Not exactly a risk many ghosts like running.”

“So why not just camp out here?” Valerie asked, quirking an eyebrow. “If coming and going is so dangerous, what’s stopping them from just setting up base in the city proper, and not returning to the Ghost Zone?”

“They can’t,” Jazz said, drawing the attention back to her. “Well, most ghosts can’t, anyway. They need some form of energy to fuel themselves, or they’ll burn out. They usually get it from the ectoplasm in the air, which is high in the Zone, and which the portals expel. It’s still kind of high in Amity in general, so ghosts can last a while, but they’ll burn out sooner or later. Some ghosts can gain energy from different sources, though. Ember, for example, could draw power from her fans. Other ghosts might draw energy from, for example, human emotions, or even actual electricity.”

Valerie shook her head. “But if it’s so dangerous, why do they even try? If they have to get past ghost hunters just to come here, why would they risk it? What’s so alluring about the human world, or so bad about the Ghost Zone, that ghosts feel like they have to come here?”

“It’s curiosity and interest, mostly.” Sidney frowned a little, in thought. “I can’t speak for everyone, of course, and I’m not sure if I would’ve come here if I had to go through the hunter’s portal, but… the Ghost Zone gets boring, if you spend enough time there. I mean, ghosts don’t sleep, usually, so we just spend day in day out in the same place. After a decade or two, or in my case, fifty years, wouldn’t you risk potential danger just to see something else? And, yes, the world changed while you were out, and isn’t that so interesting? If you had the chance to see what the world looked like in fifty years, and even at some risk, wouldn’t you?”

“And you have to remember, Valerie, that ghosts are sturdier than humans,” Jazz pointed out. “Just getting hit by a few shots from an ecto-gun isn’t that painful to most of them, and they heal faster, too. As long as they don’t actually get captured for research, run-ins with ghost hunters aren’t that dangerous.”

“So it’s just like… boredom? Wanting to see something different, combined with the fact that traveling here isn’t that much of a risk, even with the ghost hunters?” Valerie’s eyes narrowed a little, again, but it seemed thoughtful now. Jazz wondered if Valerie knew how probing her questions were, if she realized how suspicious this all sounded without the background knowledge of Red talking to Phantom last night.

“Basically,” Sidney admitted with a shrug. “Some of us have different reasons too, of course. Personally, I greatly dislike bullies because of my experiences with them in life, and being able to stop other kids from suffering through the same… I like that, being able to help. Other ghosts might come here to pursue specific interests, too, or to do things they’re passionate about, but can’t do in the Zone.”

“Right, so—” A loud screeching sound interrupted Valerie, suddenly, startling all three of them. The school bell, Jazz realized. Whoops. She’d gotten so caught up in the conversation that she forgot.

“Ah, shit,” Valerie swore, snatching her backpack off of the grass. “Jazz, we have the same class first, right?”

“Yeah.” She ran through the contents of her backpack, quickly. Did she have everything? Yeah, she thought she did. “Do you need to stop by your locker?”

“Nope. Come on, let’s go!” Valerie already started rushing towards the school when she slowed, turning to call over her shoulder. “And Sidney? Thank you for talking to me!”

Jazz was already hurrying after Valerie when she heard Sidney get over his surprise, and yell back, “No problem! Thank you for listening!”

---

Danny dove low over some of Amity’s buildings, twisting himself into a curling maneuver that was perhaps just a tad unnecessary. So what? He liked flying!

Something in his peripherals drew his attention, and Danny found himself coming to an abrupt halt. It niggled in his mind, somehow, although he didn’t know what he’d seen.

He turned, trying to figure it out. What could he possibly have seen—

oh.

Freakshow’s giant blown-out face grinned at him, the printed image of the red crystal ball instantly drawing Danny’s eyes back to it. It itched in his brain, the swirling—

No!

Danny clenched his eyes shut, trying to draw up mental walls to block the image. No! Not fucking again!

He forced himself to continue flying in his original direction, keeping his eyes shut until he felt confident that he’d gone far enough. When he reopened them, he stubbornly refused to look back, no matter how his mind niggled at him that he should.

It was far enough from FentonWorks—and Casper High—that Jazz wouldn’t come across it. Danny could tell her about the ads when they met in the woods, make sure she knew about the danger. He would have to put a little more thought into Freakshow, figure out how they could deal with him.

Well. Not them, that was for sure. He wasn’t going anywhere near Freakshow and his crystal ball, and Jazz definitely wasn’t.

He touched down in the clearing, Jazz’ innocent youthful face greeting him. No, he definitely couldn’t let her go anywhere near Freakshow. He’d rather die.

“Sorry, I didn’t keep you waiting for too long, did I?” he asked, running his hands through his hair in a hopeless attempt to flatten it some. Just… appear normal, and think it over while training. That’d be alright.

“No, it’s fine.” Jazz cocked her head, a slight frown to her brow, but didn’t comment. “What are we working on today?”

“Well, you’ve got a pretty good grip on both ecto-rays and shields, so we can move to more advanced techniques.” But more advanced offensive techniques weren’t really Jazz’ jam, were they? “We can see if you can get a grip on something elemental, like electricity, or even ice or fire, or we can try something more neutral. There’s this one technique which I can do, but that I’ve never seen Vlad do, that’s like an exploding shield? Like a field which pushes enemies away. You might be able to learn that, if that’s more your style.”

“Hm. Focusing on more defensive techniques would make my core lean more towards those skills, right?” Jazz twirled a strand of hair, clearly thinking it over. “It would be good to focus on offensive techniques too, especially if I can use them in a variety of situations, but the repulsion field sounds useful too.”

Danny nodded. “We can focus on the repulsion field today, and try something elemental the next time. Actually, it might be good to give you homework for that.”

“Homework?” Jazz repeated, almost incredulously. “Wow, now you sound like a real teacher. What would homework for this even mean, besides using my powers?”

“Well, elemental powers are finicky. You know how most ghosts tend to focus on a single element, which in turn lead to people concluding that ghost cores must be element-based?” Jazz nodded, and Danny continued. “Right. Obviously that’s not the case, but most ghosts still lean towards a single element, or two at max. Beyond that, it gets really complicated to be well-trained in them, and you’ll notice that control and power will go down.”

“Okay,” Jazz said, slowly, drawing out the word, “But how does that factor into homework?”

“I want you to feel out elemental leanings.” He formed a shard of ice, holding it up for Jazz to see, then ran lightning over it. “Personally I lean towards electricity, and I picked up ice thanks to a mentor in the Zone. I can do some fire as well, but it’s lesser, because I haven’t focused on it much. I want you to focus on… well, everything, really. See if there’s anything that you particularly feel connected to.”

Jazz nodded, and Danny nodded back. “Right, so, that’ll be your homework. For now, the… what did you call it? Repulsion field? That’s a good name for it, I like that.”

She snorted. “Thanks. Can you show it first, so I know what I’m trying to learn?”

“Yeah, of course.” He floated up and away a little, making sure that Jazz wasn’t too close. Then he curled up in a ball, gathered ectoplasmic energy around himself, like forming an ecto-blast but not in the palm of his hand. The energy gathered, coiling and swirling in a ball around him. When he was satisfied that it was enough for a demonstration, he pushed.

The energy blasted away from him, grass and leaves rustling in the sudden rush of wind.

“Wow,” Jazz breathed, but she was grinning when he looked at her. “That’s so cool! I definitely want to learn how to do that.”

Danny drifted closer again. “Right, so there are a few elements to it, but it’s pretty similar to ecto-blasts and shields. First, you’ll want to curl in tight—less surface for the energy to spread over. Built up the power like an ecto-blast, but around your whole body, rather than just your fist. But it’s gotta be strong like a shield! And then, when you think it’s ready—or when you can’t hold it anymore—push! Uncoil yourself and shove the energy from a shield into a blast!”

Jazz nodded along. “I think I got it. Like a shield, except you can push the energy out into a blast.”

“And curling up into a ball! That’s important, since it’ll help you make the push. Putting a physical element into it—like thrusting out your hand for a blast.”

“Gotcha.” Jazz pushed herself off of the ground, but didn’t quite curl into a ball yet. “How will I know if it’s enough energy?”

“It’s just experience, really.” Danny shrugged. “Kind of like ecto-blasts, you get used to compare energy to power. You can start off easy and build up. That’ll be better for your core, too, and it’ll be like a warming-up exercise.”

She snorted. “I thought there were no warming-up exercises for ghost powers?”

“Oh, shut up,” he said without heat, rolling his eyes. “Feel free to overload your core by accidentally drawing out too much energy if that’ll make you feel better.”

“I take back what I said, you’re a terrible teacher,” Jazz joked, curling up into a small purple ball. Golden energy startled swirling around her, slowly growing denser.

When she pushed out, the blast only gave off a little energy, the grass barely waving in its wake.

“Oh,” she muttered, quietly. Disappointed. “That…”

“Was a good start,” Danny finished for her. “You’re figuring out the technique first, and the power second. Better to start off weak, but know you’re doing it right, than go for too much and accidentally explode your arm, or something.”

“Ugh.” Jazz made a face. “Did you really have to go that visceral with it?”

No, but he was probably already in a bad mindset from thinking about Freakshow. He shrugged at Jazz, though, instead of vocalizing that. “It worked, didn’t it? Now go ahead, you’re not gonna get any better by chatting about it.”

She sighed, almost petulantly, but curled back up again.

Danny watched her repeat the move several more times, every attempt growing more powerful. When her blast left the trees wavering with aftershocks, Jazz held up a hand, stopping Danny before he could compliment her.

“What’s up with you today?” she asked, frowning at him. “And don’t give me that face. You’ve been distracted the whole time.”

He hadn’t thought he was that obvious about it, but… well, this was Jazz he was dealing with. She could probably see through him like it was nothing.

“It’s… eugh. An upcoming confrontation, I guess.” He shrugged, vaguely. “It’s this one human guy, except he has an artifact that allows him to control ghosts, including us, in both human and ghost form. I ran into one of his ads today, and it reminded me that we gotta deal with him, except we can’t deal with him, and—”

He stopped. Slapped himself in the face, and groaned dramatically. “Of course. We can’t deal with him, but we can sic Valerie on him! She’ll be immune to his staff, and she’ll be enticed to do it because he forces ghosts to do crime, and that’s bad.”

“Right.” Jazz stared at him, her golden eyes piercing right through him. She must’ve realized how he’d discovered that the staff worked on them. “And that’s not… a problem? Sending Valerie to deal with it?”

“Probably not. Sam and Tucker shattered it in my universe, and doing so freed all ghosts under its control,” he explained, ignoring the way his stomach curdled. They didn’t break it, not like that, but… it was easier than explaining the truth. “I don’t know how Val feels about us two, exactly, but if we explain that this guy can make us do terrible things… I bet that that would do the trick.”

“Yeah, that seems likely.” She frowned, still. “What… How does it work, exactly? Like, can we resist it, somehow?”

“Not… really.” He scratched the back of his neck, pushed down the desire to fly away and never talk about it again. “Any command you hear while seeing the crystal ball, you must do. There’s no stopping it, it just… drowns you out entirely. Don’t even look at the ads, although you might be able to push those out. The TV ads, especially, are a no-go.”

His grim tone seemed to function as a wake-up call, because she nodded, and didn’t push. “Valerie sounds like a good plan, yeah. Do you want to go look for her now?”

“Nah.” He shook his head. “We’re training now. I’ll talk to her later, and you can do your homework. Like, your real actual homework.”

“Yeah, alright,” Jazz allowed. “But we probably shouldn’t continue for too much longer, in that case.”

“Probably,” he agreed. “That’d be better for your core, too, if we don’t strain it like that.”

“One more, then?” She was already lifting up from the ground, curling into a ball.

“Better make it good!”

She laughed as her golden ectoplasm gathered around her. “I’ll give you a show, alright!”

The energy burst with such power that it knocked Danny over entirely. The woods rattled with the wind, branches snapping off and raining down.

“Uh, whoops.” Jazz laughed sheepishly. “That was maybe a little too much.”

“Maybe,” Danny agreed, floating upright again. “But you might need that much if you’re surrounded by ghosts. It was a good lesson, anyway.”

Jazz nodded. “Good luck with Valerie. Let me know if there are any problems.”

“I can handle it, Jazz.” He rolled his eyes, exasperatedly. “But, yes, I’ll let you know if there’s anything you need to worry about. Good luck with your homework. Both human and ghostly.”

“Yes, Mr. Phantom.” She stuck out a tongue, a warm green, but pulled it back in quickly. Too childish, probably. “See you Friday.”

She pushed off, and he watched her go. “And avoid those Freakshow ads!” he shouted after her, feeling satisfied at her wave back.

Well. No putting it off any longer.

Danny let himself float up as well, flying back to Amity at a more casual pace. He could go looking for Valerie, yes, but he would probably have more luck drawing her to him. She had ghost scanners, but he didn’t have any human scanners.

He hovered over a quiet street—after making sure no Freakshow ads were nearby—and pretended to be looking for something. It didn’t take long for the roar of Valerie’s hoverboard to reach him.

Ah. He loved it when something went according to plan for once.

“Phantom. Looking for something?” Valerie asked, pulling to a halt beside him.

“You, actually,” he admitted easily. “Specter and I could use your help with something.”

Her posture was tensed—and had tensed up even further when he spoke—but she didn’t raise her gun. “With what?” she asked, shortly.

“Have you seen the ads for that goth circus? With their ringmaster, Freakshow?” He waited for her nod before he continued. “His staff has this weird crystal ball, bright red? It’s… I don’t know what it is, actually, but it can used to control ghosts. All of the people in Freakshow’s show are ghosts he’s forcing to participate, and that’s not the only thing he uses them for.”

“It’s not?” Valerie sounded almost incredulous.

“Nah. Apparently circuses don’t pay enough, because Freakshow has his ghost army stealing, too. You can follow the trail through the few cities he’s been in, and he’ll start doing the same here, probably. Might even try luring Specter or I out in the open so he can control us as well, since we’re tons stronger than the ghosts he has now. We know better, but, y’know.” He shrugged.

“You can’t come nearby without getting affected?” she guessed.

“Yeah, basically.” He huffed out something that was almost a laugh. “Besides, it would be better to let the human hunter deal with the human enemy. We wanted to call the police on him for the robberies, but someone needs to deal with the staff first. As long as Freakshow has his army of ghosts, he can just use them to escape from the law.”

Valerie nodded. “Gotcha. I’ll investigate, and if you’re speaking the truth—which I bet you are, because this sounds too crazy to be a lie—I’ll deal with Freakshow.” She made a face. “Ugh, is that really his name?”

“Stage name, I think. I don’t exactly do research on my enemies, though.” He shot her a grateful grin. “But, hey, thanks. Specter and I really appreciate it.”

“I’m not doing it for you,” Valerie said, coarsely. “But whatever. I’ll make sure you don’t have to worry about that crystal ball anymore.”

That… seemed like a strange way to word it. Ah, whatever. He was probably just being paranoid, now, driven up by Freakshow’s reappearance.

“Right. Well, thanks anyway. Have a good night, Red.”

She nodded. “Yeah, sure. Whatever.”

Her hoverboard roared as she left again.

---

“Did you hear?” Jazz asked Valerie, once she thought the locker room had gotten empty enough to get away with it. “About that guy’s arrest?”

“Who, the creepy ringmaster that could literally control ghosts?” Valerie scoffed. “Yeah. Did your parents go crazy about that?”

“Kinda, yeah.” Jazz straightened her shirt, then reached for her hair. Started twisting it up into a ponytail. “I’m glad, though. Imagine how powerful that guy could’ve gotten if he managed to get his hands on a really powerful ghost, like Phantom?”

Valerie hummed, but didn’t say anything. Jazz turned slightly to squint at her.

“What?” Valerie asked, raising an eyebrow. Her expression was… weird, though. Hard to read. “Yeah, I guess that that could’ve been bad. No point in speculating, though. For all we know Phantom and Specter just wanted us to deal with Freakshow, and are now free to hurt the city.”

Jazz felt her stomach roil. “Do you really think that?” she asked, lowering her hands again. The end of her ponytail brushed along her neck, something it didn’t do in her ghost form—the strands defied gravity like that.

Valerie seemed to stare at her for ages.

“Not really,” she finally said, after what felt like forever. “I just…” Valerie sighed and shrugged, taking her eyes off of Jazz. She walked out of the locker room before Jazz could say anything.

“Weird,” she muttered to herself. It was almost like Valerie… knew. But there was no way, right?

Just paranoia. Things were weird, so of course she was overly wary. Nothing to worry about.

#danny phantom #dp fanfic #phanfic #phanfiction #dp fanfiction #fanfic #danny fenton #jazz fenton #jazz phantom au #halfa jazz au #dark writes #absurdism #long term plots are kinda tough to set up if youre only writing from the pov of the main characters lol #like Freakshow's takedown isnt something theyre directly involved in so i cant write a scene about it #and vlad's... everything

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monotonous-minutia · 5 years ago

Text

Don Carlo in 250 lines or less

For @notyouraveragejulie

Thank you for the prompt, this was so much fun. At first I thought “How can I possibly do this in 250 lines or less???” but it turned out to be just under 200 so it was all fine.

Anyway---here you go!

Act I, Scene I

Fontainebleu. Any version that does not contain this act is irrelevant.

Hunter’s chorus: We’re singing about our great hunting expedition in perhaps one of the most exhilarating opening choruses in all of opera.

Carlos: I travelled all the way from Spain to try and sneak a peek at my future bride. Isn’t love wonderful?

Thibault: Oh no, we’re lost in the woods. Are you okay, Princess? I mean really are you okay? Are you okay?

Elizabeth: I’m fine, just a little tired.

Carlo: Never fear! I can stay with you in the middle of these woods while your page runs off for help.

Thibault: Wait what

Carlo: I came with the Spanish retinue.

Elizabeth: Sounds great and not sketchy at all. Thibault, go ahead and get me my horse. We’ll wait here for you.

Thibault: Okay, I guess…

Elizabeth: So, you’re from Madrid? I’ve been betrothed to the prince there as part of the peace treaty between our countries.

Carlo: Yes I know all about that.

Elizabeth: I’m very nervous about it and scared to leave my mother and my home. What if the prince doesn’t love me?

Carlo: Guess what? I’m actually Carlo and I love you because you’re so beautiful and sweet.

Elizabeth: Oh that’s great because I was starting to fall for you and felt bad since I’m betrothed! How lucky that I am so attracted to the guy I was going to blind marry.

Carlo and Elizabeth: Listen to the canons! Peace has been declared! Not only are we in love and about to be married, but our countries are finally at peace. This is seriously the best day ever.

Thibault: Elizabeth! Great news! You’re engaged to the king! Please take me with you when you go to Spain. I may have a crush on you. I mean, it will be a great learning experience for me.

Elizabeth: Of course you can stay with me, but you’re mistaken. I’m engaged to the prince, not the king.

Lerma: Plans have changed! Peace will only be declared if you marry the king. What say you?

Chorus of peasants: Please, Elizabeth, we really need a break from all this horribleness.

Elizabeth: Yes, I will marry the king. Oh, this is the worst day ever.

Carlo: My heart is broken! How can heaven be so cruel?

Chorus: Long live the marvelous new queen! We are finally at peace and we can finally be happy!

Elizabeth and Carlo: We’re so sad!!!!

Act II Scene I

The creepy monastery

Monks: Once upon a time there was a very vain emperor named Charles V. Because of his folly, he was doomed to a dishonorable death. His ghost may or may not be wandering around this monastery. The moral of the story: God alone is great and powerful. Never assume you’re greater than God, unless you want to suffer the same fate.

Carlo: I can’t get over how creepy it is that that one Monk looks so much like my grandfather.

Monks leave creepily. Rodrigo comes in.

Rodrigo: Carlo!

Carlo: Rodrigo!

Both: HUG ME I LOVE YOU SO MUCH

Rodrigo: What a day to be alive! I just got back from Flanders and it’s chaos over there, but I know we can make things better. It’s time to sword up and go save a country! Hey, what’s wrong?

Carlo: I don’t want to tell you. You’ll hate me.

Rodrigo: There is nothing in this world that would make me hate you. You can tell me anything.

Carlo: I’m in love with my stepmother.

Rodrigo: (Yikes!) It’s okay, we’ll get through this together. Heading to Flanders with me will get her off your mind. Nothing like a lot of depressing situations and some good old blood and gore to get your mind off unrequited love. Remember how we said we would always fight for freedom and live and die as lovers I mean brothers?

Carlo: Duh! It was our entire childhood.

Rodrigo: Don’t look now, here comes the queen and Filippo.

Carlo: I can’t handle this. It’s too hard.

Rodrigo: Remember our cause! We’ll get through this!

Both: I LOVE YOU SO MUCH

Act II Scene II

The Queen’s garden

Chorus of ladies: What a pretty, sunny day. It’s so nice being ladies in a Spanish court.

Thibault: I have a crush on all these ladies here but especially Princess Eboli, who is the most beautiful of them all and sometimes wears an eyepatch.

Eboli: Let me tell you a story that may or may not be foreshadowing. Once upon a time, a no-good cheating king fell in love with a beautiful lady wearing a veil. Turns out she was his wife all along!

Everyone else: Bravo, Eboli, you’re such a good storyteller, and very beautiful we may add.

Eboli: I know.

Everyone: Here comes the queen. She’s so sad these days.

Elizabeth: It’s nice to see you all so happy. If only I wasn’t so sad!

Thibault: Hey look it’s the Marquis.

Rodrigo: My Queen, I have a special note here from your aunt. (It’s actually from Carlos, read it.)

Eboli: Well, Marquis, how have you been these days? I may or may not be flirting with you right now.

Rodrigo: You’re very pretty in a purely aesthetic sense and I don’t know how to handle flirting so I’m just going to give you some boring news about court gossip.

Elizabeth: The letter from Carlo tells me I should trust Rodrigo and I still love Carlo so I guess I will. Marquis, what can I do for you?

Rodrigo: We both love Carlo (in every sense of the word) and he’s suffering and sad right now. If only you would speak to him, it would help heal his wounded heart.

Elizabeth: Fine, I’ll see him. Everyone, be on your way.

Eboli: Carlo is sad and suffering? That’s too bad. I kind of like him. I think he likes me too. I wonder if we would work as a couple. Hmm.

Everyone leaves Elizabeth alone. Carlo comes in.

Carlo: Elizabeth, I’m suffocating here. I need to get out. Will you let me go to Flanders?

Elizabeth: Yes, if that’s what you need.

Carlo: Why do you have to be so cold? What if I die over there? Don’t you care?

Elizabeth: Well do you want to go or not?

Carlo: I mean I do but

Elizabeth: You don’t get it. I’m the queen now. I have to act all queenly.

Carlos: BUT I STILL LOVE YOU ugh this is so hard why can’t you love me???

Elizabeth: You think this is easy for me??? I’m hurting too you little prick. But what are we supposed to do about it???

Carlo: Be sad forever. Or hate my father. Or both.

Elizabeth: Well unless you plan to kill him I don’t see what we can do, and it would be an awfully nasty wedding. I don’t think anyone would come.

Carlo: Fine, I’m out. I hate my life!

Carlo leaves

Elizabeth: God give me strength! I don’t know why I’m asking you. You’ve been pretty cruel lately. But I’m a good Christian woman so I guess I have to.

Thibault comes back. So does everyone else. And Filippo.

Thibault: THE KING IS HERE OH NO WE’RE IN TROUBLE

Filippo: Why is the Queen all alone? You’re all fired. Wait, no, just this one.

Elizabeth: But she’s my best friend!! How dare you!! Alright, fine. At least she gets to go back to France where I wish I was right now. Goodbye, my lover I mean best friend. Say hello to my mother for me.

Filippo: Too much drama, everyone out.

Everyone else leaves

Filippo: Wait, except you, Posa.

Rodrigo backpedals

Filippo: Tell me, what’s a handsome I mean valiant young man like you doing hanging around but never asking to see me?

Rodrigo: I don’t sit around waiting for the king to give me stuff…

Filippo: Cheeky! I like it. Well, you have me here now. What can I do for you?

Rodrigo: Well you see there’s this stuff going on in Flanders…

Filippo: I’ve got Flanders under control.

Rodrigo: What kind of control is it when people lie miserable in the streets and get killed and leave their crying starving children behind???

Filippo: How dare you talk to me this way! But I also kind of like it. You’re bold. But beware of the Grand Inquisitor.

Rodrigo: Why?

Filippo: Just do it. Anyway, I want you to stay by my side, for purely professional reasons.

Rodrigo: I like where I’m at, thanks.

Filippo: I need you to keep an eye on my wife and son.

Rodrigo: Your son is too pure for this world, you don’t need to worry about him, I’ll take care of him and love him forever.

Filippo: Do you know how hard it is to feel like you’ve lost a son? He hates me. I need someone to keep tabs on him. And I think the queen is cheating on me with him so keep an eye out for that too.

Rodrigo: Okay...

Filippo: So anyway come and work for me and keep me company if you know what I mean.

Rodrigo: This is kind of weird and also I don’t like spying on people especially the ones I really care about but this is a great opportunity to get to know the king better and maybe encourage a change of heart so why not?

Filippo: Great! But I’ll say it one more time in case you forgot because it was several verses ago. Beware the Grand Inquisitor. I’m serious.

Rodrigo: Yeah, yeah…

Act III Scene I

The Queen’s gardens

Chorus: LET’S PARTY LIKE IT’S 1559

Elizabeth: I’m not really in a party mood. I think I’ll go pray to clear my mind. You go ahead to the party, Eboli. Have some fun for me.

Elizabeth leaves

Eboli: Perfect, I get Carlo all to myself! I’m going to write him this note telling him to meet me here later. Also I’m going to put on Elizabeth’s veil because it’s so pretty. I feel like a queen myself. I’m so excited. I love love.

Carlo: I’m so excited I got a note from someone who is Elizabeth of course who else could it be ah here she comes now my love I love you so much.

Eboli: I’ve been waiting to hear those words all my life!

Carlo: Oh dang, it’s you.

Eboli: ???

Carlo: You’re sweet but I can’t love you. It’s not you, it’s me.

Eboli: But I can protect you. I see everything that goes on in the court and there’s people whispering your name all over the place and Rodrigo is following the king around everywhere now so.

Carlo: What?? My lover I mean best friend is in cahoots with my dad who hates me? This is too much. Thank you for being on my side, Princess, but my heart is taken by another.

Eboli: Are you in love with Elizabeth? How dare she pretend to be all saintly and queenly when she’s having an affair like this?

Carlo: Wait no it’s not what it looks like

Rodrigo was apparently jogging nearby and sees this

Rodrigo: LEAVE HIM ALONE YOU WITCH

Eboli: You don’t know the extent of my power. Just wait, I’ll get back at you both.

Rodrigo: Watch your back lady!

Carlo: RODRIGO DON’T STAB HER

Rodrigo: WHY NOT

Eboli: YOU DON’T SCARE ME

Rodrigo: Okay wait there’s always another way. I have a plan and it may be tragic but we’re not there so. I still have time.

Carlo: This is all my fault oh no time for a guilt spiral.

Eboli: I’m going to leave now but I’m not letting you go this easy. Never doubt the power of a woman who is heartbroken and severely POed.

Rodrigo: Carlo, if you have anything incriminating on you give it to me. I’m not sure if I’m trying to protect you or betraying you to further my own agenda. I guess we’ll find out.

Carlo: That’s shady.

Rodrigo: WHAT HOW CAN YOU BE SUSPICIOUS OF ME I LOVE YOU

Carlo: I’M SORRY I LOVE YOU here’s my papers

Both: HUG ME I LOVE YOU SO MUCH.

Act III Scene III

Auto-da-fe. The exact location varies but it’s usually very dramatic.

Chorus of people: TODAY IS AWESOME WE GET TO BURN PEOPLE

Chorus of monks: LET TODAY BE A LESSON FOR Y'ALL DON’T GET ON GOD’S BAD SIDE

Everyone: HERE COMES THE KING HE’S AWESOME

Carlo: Wait! I went to Flanders remarkably quickly and brought back these Flemish people to talk you out of burning their friends.

Flemish chorus: Sire, can you please spare our people? We’re very nice we promise

Filippo: Yeah no

Elizabeth, Rodrigo, Lerma, Thibault, Carlo: Come on Sire can you let them go just this once?

Filippo: I’m the king so I make the decisions! Stop questioning me I’m getting cranky.

Carlo: If you don’t do something I will! Father, let me rule Flanders. I’ll be king one day so I may as well start ruling.

Filippo: And give you the power to usurp me or kill me?? Not a chance.

Carlo: Fine, I’ll just kill you now then!

Filippo: Somebody help! What? No one’s gonna do anything? Fine, I’ll kill him myself. En garde!

Rodrigo: Carlo you are seriously your own worst enemy stop it you’re gonna kill yourself. Give me your sword so I can protect you but also stay on Filippo’s good side because yeah it’s morally ambiguous but I need him right now so.

Everyone else: RODRIGO HOW COULD YOU

Filippo: Posa, you’re the best. You’re promoted for purely professional reasons there’s no subtext here at all. Guards, arrest my son. I’ll deal with him later. Now on to the celebration! Who doesn’t love a good bonfire?

Act IV Scene I

Filippo’s chamber

Filippo: Time for an existential crisis. I’m tired, overworked, and my wife who is significantly younger than me and betrothed to me out of the blue and plucked from her homeland and taken to a rather messy court inexplicably doesn’t love me. Also my son hates me. I wish I could sleep but the only way I see myself doing that is in my coffin. What’s a king to do?

Lerma (Apparently just standing there waiting to say this): The Grand Inquisitor is here.

Inquisitor: Am I standing by the king?

Filippo: Yes. I have a few questions. First, my son is being a real pain in my you know what lately. Any tips?

Inquisitor: Kill him.

Filippo: My son?? How can I call myself a Christian if I kill my own son?

Inquisitor: Jesus.

Filippo: Fair point. Be on your way.

Inquisitor: Not so fast! You should kill Posa too.

Filippo: No way! In all this world there has never been a man with whom I feel so close. And yes I am aware of how gay that sounds.

Inquisitor: Welp it’s that or you’re in the lurch and who knows what the inquisition will do if I’m not on your side so….

Filippo: Fine.

Inquisitor exits. Elizabeth runs in.

Elizabeth: I DEMAND JUSTICE. Everyone here hates me and to top it off I lost my jewelry box.

Filippo: You mean this one that I have right here that has a picture of Carlo inside it???? How dare you cheat on me!

Elizabeth: I would never! Do you understand how hard it was for me to come here and be separated from my family?? But I’ve never committed a sin in my life and I’m not about to start.

Filippo: Okay, cheater.

Elizabeth faints.

Filippo: When will I learn to shut my mouth???

Rodrigo and Eboli rush in as if they’d been waiting by the door

Rodrigo: Seriously Filippo you control half the world, why can’t you control yourself?

Filippo: I know I suck

Elizabeth: I wish I was home. I’ll never be happy again. What’s the point of life?

Eboli: Oh no, I screwed up, poor Elizabeth.

Rodrigo: I was hoping I had more time, but it’s clear I can wait no longer. I must put my plan into motion and die an honorable death to save the country I love and the man I love.

Everyone leaves except Elizabeth and Eboli

Eboli: ELIZABETH I’M SORRY YOU’VE ALWAYS BEEN SO NICE TO ME BUT I DID THIS HORRIBLE THING. I gave Filippo the jewelry box to make him angry but it’s all because I love Carlo. Also I called you a cheater but actually that’s me.

Elizabeth: Well I was GOING to forgive you for loving Carlo but soiling my reputation is not okay so you can leave now, be a nun, or leave the country, I don’t care. Also I want my cross back. I can’t remember giving it to you but I want it back.

Elizabeth leaves

Eboli: I’ll never see the queen again! I messed up so bad! GD it, why do I have to be so beautiful? Obviously that’s why I have problems, not because I have a precarious moral compass. Wait a second, Carlo’s going to be killed by the inquisition?? Not on my watch! I’m coming, beloved who will never love me!

Eboli runs off to rile people up

Act IV Scene II

Prison

Rodrigo: Carlo, it’s me.

Carlo: Rodrigo, thank you for coming to visit me. I’m done gone over Elizabeth. I don’t think I can be of much use right now especially seeing as I’m in jail and no one’s told me if I can leave or what. But you’ll be a great leader for Flanders.

Rodrigo: Actually you’ll be out of here soon because I told everyone that I’m the traitor not you.

Carlo: WHAT THEY’LL KILL YOU

Rodrigo: Yeah I know

Carlo: Why would you do that???

Rodrigo: Because I’ve learned after all this messiness and moral ambiguity and betrayal that above all else in the world I love you and I’d die for you so I will.

Carlo: This can’t be happening.

Rodrigo: I’m afraid it is.

Gunshot

Carlo: OH MY GOD WHO GOT SHOT

Rodrigo: Me.

Carlo: OH MY GOD

Rodrigo: Listen, your mother will meet you at the monastery tomorrow. She knows everything and she’ll help you escape to Flanders. You were born to rule them and I was born to die for you. Don’t be sad. I’m not sad. I saved you and that’s the only thing that matters to me.

Filippo and his courtiers enter

Filippo: Hey son! Great news. You’ve been exonerated. You’re free to go.

Carlo: No way in hell am I coming with you. Do you see what you’ve done???? The person I love most in this world is dead because you made him feel like he had to die for me.

Filippo: ???

Carlo: He was innocent you prick!

Filippo: Oh cruel fate! How can this be happening? Who will return this beautiful soul to me?

Carlo: I will either carry on in his name or lay beside him in the grave.

Filippo: His brave words gave me life. I can’t go on without him.

Courtiers: What are we? Chop liver?

Lerma: Sire, there’s people outside making a ruckus…

A crowd of people push their way into the prison including Eboli and Elizabeth

Chorus of people: LET OUR PRINCE GO

Eboli: See, Elizabeth, it’s all because I loved him. I spent all night riling up these peasants to come save Carlo.

Elizabeth: I can’t watch this it’s too much.

Inquisitor: SETTLE DOWN PEASANTS AND KNEEL BEFORE YOUR KING

Chorus of people: OH NO IT’S THE GRAND INQUISITOR

Filippo: All I have left now is being a king so I’m going to yell at everyone to bow before me as I stand next to the d-bag who convinced me to kill an innocent man.

Chorus of people: We’re sorry. We’ll be quiet.

Eboli: Carlo, come with me, I’ll help you escape. Then it’s off to the convent for me, but at least I did my part.

Act V Scene I

The creepy monastery again

Elizabeth: Emperor Charles knew how horrible this world is. Not sure why I’m saying that except maybe to foreshadow later events. Anyway, I’m very sad. I’m so far from home, I feel like I’ve lost everyone I’ve ever loved. Plus I just watched a man die to save the one we both love most in this world. Fate is so cruel. Part of me just wishes I were dead already. I don’t think things could get any darker than this.

Carlo enters

Carlo: Mother, I’m here to say our final goodbye. Rodrigo is dead and I’ll never recover. I’m off to Flanders to finish his good work. I’ve finally come to peace with the fact that you’re my mother, and after all you’d make a really good mother despite the age difference (or lack thereof). I hope you live the rest of your life in peace. Maybe we’ll see each other in Heaven when all of this is over.

Elizabeth: Good-bye, dear son. I’ve resigned myself to my fate and I’m so proud of you. You will save an abandoned people and become a hero.

Filippo barges in

Filippo: This is all very touching but I’m really angry because everything is out of control. I killed the only man I’ve ever loved, my son is lost to me forever because of his foolhardy notions and traitorous actions, and I don’t think my wife will ever love me after all of this is over. Guards, finish off my son.

Inquisitor (who is always just inexplicably THERE): Kill him in the name of God!

Carlo: NO! I won’t go out like this! Though in some versions I do.

Monk dressed as Charles V (or maybe it is Charles V?????) LIFE IS BASICALLY POINTLESS WE’RE ALL SINNERS YOU MAY AS WELL JUST FACE DEATH NOW

Everyone: OMG A GHOST

Carlo: I’m not sure if I’m dead or dying or in a trance or maybe this is all just a dream. However you spin it, this is the end. I don’t see anything happening after this.

He goes with the monk into the monastery. Or gets stabbed. Depends on who’s telling the story.

THE END

#don carlo #don carlos #opera #opera ask challenge #opera tag #grand opera #abbreviated operas #kinda irreverant #this was so much fun #not-your-average-julie #rodrigo di posa #elizabeth de valois #elizabetta di valois #king philippe #king filippo #princess eboli #thibault #tebaldo

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seokoloqy · 7 years ago

Text

No Rest for the Wicked | jhs (m)

➳ PAIRING: devil!hoseok x witch!y/n

➳ GENRE: smut, pwp

➳ WARNINGS: none

➳ WORD COUNT: 4k

➳ SUMMARY: “Pain and pleasure.” Your fingers dance over the red design on his exposed neck. Ancient text scarred to this vessel forever, or as long as you desire him to be yours. “We’re one and the same now. So I’d think twice before threatening me, pet.”

➳ A/N: I really need to stop writing smut at 3AM it’s not good for my health lolol anyway, delete me tumblr.

—

The ring of red spray paint on your calacatta marble floor is slowly drying, but nevertheless, you cross the threshold with black stilettos pointed at the man—demon—tied to one of your linen dining chairs. It’s going to be a bitch scrubbing out all the blood from the upholstery, but as long as you get what you want, you’re willing to spill a little more. Too bad this stubborn little thing won’t give up so easily. You’ve tortured dozens of demons—summoning them into your home, tying them up, and draining their vessels—only to get nothing out of them. Your patience dwindles with each unsuccessful attempt.

“I hear you’re one of the big boys,” you purr, resting your hand on the lacerated shoulder of the demon who refers to himself as Namjoon. The wound on his shoulder begins to gush with the pressure you apply steadily, watching intently as he winces. “Which means you can get me a meeting with Him.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he hisses through gritted teeth and metallic blood dripping from his mouth, almost trembling in fury as a coy smile slithers on to your pristine face. Not a single drop of blood or sweat has graced your facade.

You can cut into him all day, but it’s beginning to get boring. You’re not getting anywhere with this one. The other lowly demons you trapped squealed like pigs the moment you sliced into them, but now as you go higher up the chain of command they’re more resistant to your tricks.

“Him, you know, the big man downstairs. Let’s not mess around, Joonie.” The endearing nickname rolls off your tongue as you bring one of your slim kitchen knives up to view. Sure, the flimsy knife isn’t enough to kill a demon but it is enough to harm the human vessel he’s inhabiting. You know Namjoon can feel it, every single searing cut and stab, the real vessel is probably long dead. No matter to you, the human must’ve been dead the second he was possessed by the slimy creature of Hell. “If you don’t give me what I want then I guess I’ll just have to put an end to our little rendezvous.”

“Go ahead, witch,” he spits, wriggling around in his binds and snapping his jaws at you. Oh, if only he could get his hands on you, he’d rip you apart. “I’ll come back for you.”

“That’s what they all said,” you scoff, resting your palms on either side of his chair. Poor man, he must’ve been handsome before you got your hands on him. As you lean into his beaten and bloodied face, you watch the frustration slowly dissipates into alarm. “Just before I killed them.”

You swiftly jam the knife into his thigh, earning a howl of pain from the demon. It’s almost humorous it can feel pain, after all, isn’t that all a demon is? A thing which brings pain and suffering to those undeserving.

Nearly two hundred years of practice, all you need to do is give the demon one piercing look and smoke pools out of his mouth as he gags on his own being. Your favorite part is watching as the things choke on their own blood.

“Et pœnitet,” Namjoon manages to cough, before the last of the thick smoke leaks out and his vessel goes limp in the binds.

You rip the knife from his leg, wiping the blood off on your black dress. It’s barely visible against the dark fabric, not that it matters if your dress is stained. You can always buy a new one. Being alive for more than two hundred years has earned you enough money to live comfortably—to afford the luxurious apartment you live in and the expensive ingredients certain spells require to summon demons.

But money is not the object you’re after now. You sigh, gazing at the dead, useless vessel. Another unsuccessful attempt to lure your prize out of his damn hole. The knife clatters to the floor, echoing across the foyer. You scuff out a bit of the red circle with the point of your heel, having no use for it anymore now that he’s gone.

“A fucking demon threatening me?” You scoff to yourself, making your way to the kitchen, abandoning the dead human. You turn on the faucet and run your red hands under the warm water, watching as it spirals down the drain. “Yeah, right.”

Demons like to think they’re so powerful, especially when they look at you. Just some little witch, kicked out of her coven—all alone with no other protection. Those hags only threw you out of the coven because they realized how dangerous you really were and they didn’t want anything to do with you anymore. You happily let go of that dead weight though. You didn’t need them anyway, they only held you back from reaching your full potential.

You practiced necromancy, raising the dead here and there, it was just play. They feared the dead, and you could only laugh at their cowardice. Witches who are afraid to face the unknown aren’t witches at all.

Speaking of the dead, you peer your head out of the kitchen, catching a glimpse of the limp mortal still leaking blood all over your marble floor. You can’t leave the body there to stink up your apartment; maybe you’ll toss him out into the alley and let someone else deal with him.

As you approach the body, snap your fingers and turn on the lights. Previously the room was lit only with candles you set up before the ritual. Now under the bright lights, you can get a better view of the human. He was incredibly handsome as you guessed before.

What a waste of such a pretty face, you think, holding his chin up and turning his head to inspect his features. Perhaps this human is incredibly lucky you’re feeling generous tonight.

You grab his hands, ignoring the broken fingers you caused out of frustration when Namjoon had called you ‘the devil's whore’ for the sixth time. You feel a release of energy surge through you and slowly watch as the wounds you created fix themselves and seal off.

The entire process of bringing back the dead only makes you lightheaded for a second, if you were to do this eighty years ago you would have fainted. Practice makes perfect and you intend to do so until you are.

The man gently rolls his head back into the seat, groaning as if everything were just a bad dream. He shouldn’t remember anything that happened while he was possessed. The perk of demonic possession is you don’t remember all the fucked you things you did as a demon.

“Hello, human,” you croon, caressing his cold cheek. As his body resurrects itself and his heart begins pumping again, he’ll walk out of here in no time and forget all about this terrible nightmare.

He takes in his surroundings, from the lavish white decor being contrasted by artwork similar to a gruesome Goya painting. This is not the bar he was at and definitely not his single bedroom apartment.

“What,” He croaks, coughing up blood still left in his mouth. The lingering metallic taste makes him panic. What the hell did he get up to tonight? Did he get into a fight?

You shush him, putting your finger to his lips, “Don’t think about it too much, okay? Now, Joonie, I’m going to tell you exactly what you remember and what you’re going to do.”

He nods, thoughts clouding as you stare into his hazy eyes. Humans are too easy to manipulate it’s just not as fun as it used to be. You like when they put up a fight.

“You’re going to leave my apartment and head straight home, no detours. Then you’re going to go to bed and wake up the next morning feeling better than ever, but you won’t remember me or this place, got it?”

He nods again and you release his bindings. As much as you hate to part with such a pretty face, you let him walk out. Maybe you could’ve kept him as a pet, like one of those flying monkey henchmen. You could have given him wings just as easily as you raised him from the dead.

—

There is no magic spell to scrub the floors, much to your dismay. You’re on all fours sliding around in soap as you scrub away the spray paint that has dried to the ground.

All these demons you’ve killed and you still don’t have who you want. You’re looking for one person, in particular, the king of hell himself. You want him. If you can have him, no one will get in your way, especially not those unrelenting hunters that are tracking you down.

You’d kill them all with a snap of your fingers, but it would be such a waste of your time. Why not have a… bodyguard of sorts instead to protect you? You don’t want just any weak little demon clinging to you like a lost duckling. The devil would scare away any hunter brave enough to step into your line of sight.

Besides, it will be fun flaunting the king of hell around like your own little bitch who does tricks whenever you command. If the coven feared you then, they’ll definitely fear you after you get him into your possession.

It’s proving to be a challenge though, but you love the thrill of it. A face to face meeting with the devil, an experience not many will live to tell.

You sit back in your calves, humming contently as the last of the paint has rubbed off. Sometimes you contemplate hiring a maid, but then again it’s not like they’d be able to stomach all the blood splattered across your floors.

As you bring yourself to your feet and adjust your dress around your thighs, the temperature drops enough to the point where you can see your breath in the air. A telltale sign that you’ve succeeded. You contain your excitement, for now, only letting a sly smile show.

You turn around, bottom lip caught in your teeth in anticipation. What poor human has the devil decided to inhabit tonight? You hope it isn’t the prepubescent pizza boy that always delivers to your lonely, corpulent neighbor who enjoys drowning the sorrows of his failed marriage in grease and alcohol. The devil could at least go out of his way to find a suitable vessel.

However, it isn’t the pizza boy, but a man leaning against the threshold where the kitchen meets the living room with his hands dug into his black pants. Dressed in all black formal attire, it’s like he wanted to match with you in your designer black dress. It almost makes you grin.

But it’s not the clothes that have your heels slowly clicking their way towards him. His perfect features, perhaps this is the true vessel of the devil, beautifully carved by God. How can this vessel possibly be mortal?

You snap out of your revere halfway across your foyer, focusing once again on your mission. The pace you had set flows slower, tempting and sensual. You can feel his eyes roaming over your figure, curious but not tempted. It takes more than a little leg to get the devil on his knees.

“You finally came out to play,” you purr, running your index finger down his chest and straight to the waistband of his pants. “I’ve been looking for you.”

“I’m not here because you called. You killed my officer,” he growls, ripping your hand away from reaching dangerously close to his crotch. You involuntarily shiver at his authoritative tone. The devil, the father of sin, has you turning into a puddle because of two measly sentences.

You hate it. He’s not in control, you are.

“Oops, was he important to you? I’m so sorry,” you feign, batting your eyelashes at his unimpressed expression. “So, what do I call this vessel of yours?”

“Hoseok.”

You purr, leaning your head against his shoulder. “Hoseok… I like it. And this vessel,” You tiptoe your fingers up his chest, feeling the smooth fabric of his suit. “I like him too. Don’t damage it too much I think I’d like to keep him when you’re done.”

“I’m tired of your games, witch,” he hisses. The hand around your wrist tightens as he glares at you. There are flames behind his eyes, a reflection of hell—dark and desolate.

“Admit it,” you dare, testing the waters as you edge yourself closer wanting to be closer to his warmth. “You’re curious. Why would a witch like me kill dozens of demons just to request a room with you?”

“I can snap my fingers and you’d be nothing but red mist,” he warns, but you see through his empty threat. There is curiosity and you’re going to use it to your advantage.

“I’ll tell you exactly what I want,” you whisper, dragging your lips lightly along the shell of his ear. Your free hand glides from his shoulder to the smooth skin of his neck.

He’s not affected by your feeble attempts to seduce him. Over eons, he’s had plenty of desperate people throwing themselves at him. He’s built up a resistance to fools.

You don’t let his indifference deter your mission. You playfully trail your lips from his ear to the underside of his jaw, kissing gently. One leg snakes around his waist, letting your core press against his hip. Your breath hitches, unexpectedly more turned on than you anticipated. Fuck, you didn’t expect him to show up in a suit with a face of a god.

“Can’t you tell, Hoseok?” You tease, feeling his grip on your wrist loosen enough for you to pull free.

“I want you,” you venomously snarl, wrapping your hand tighter around his throat, searing his skin with your ancient seal. It’s done before he can even push you away and spit curses.

You let out a bubbly laugh, watching as he coughs and scratches at his neck where a brand has appeared. The stinging has spread throughout his entire body, consuming him in flames. He wants to yell and scream because of his foolishness. He let you close to him without knowing every angle he could play you at.

“You fucking witch, I’ll make you suffer,” he swears.

“I don’t think so, Hoseok,” you mock. “You see, anything I feel, you feel.”

It’s an insurance policy you’ve worked into the spell. In case he decides to rip you limb from limb it guarantees he feels every bit of the pain too, but you don’t feel any of what he does.

Sweat beads begin to form on his ethereal face. You crouch to the ground, caressing his warm cheek.

“Pain and pleasure.” Your fingers dance over the red design on his exposed neck. Ancient text scarred to this vessel forever, or as long as you desire him to be yours. “We’re one and the same now. So I’d think twice before threatening me, pet.”

—

You dismissed him to go wherever the hell he pleased, back to hell or to go off on a rampage through your city, you don’t care. He’s yours now to do with whatever you please.

You roll over on your bed, staring at the dark ceiling Your t-shirt feeling too heavy against your skin. You can imagine the way his slender fingers wrapped around your wrist and suddenly you want them somewhere else.

Your fingers hook around the hem of your underwear, sliding them down and tossing them out of sight. As your bare skin touches the cool fabric of your sheets, you sigh contently. You drag your fingers up your exposed thigh, shivering as your nail delicately tickles the sensitive flesh.

You want him to feel it—to feel every sinful caress and teasing touch. For the definition of want and need to become the same.

As your hand slowly slides across your stomach and towards the valley of your breasts, you pull your legs apart and let them prop up. You toy with your hardening nipples and roll them under your thumb. As they begin to peak, you run your hands over them once more.

Your needy core aches to be touched and you give in, swiping a finger over your slit. Shuddering when you realize the wetness that has gathered on your finger. You can push two fingers easily into yourself, but instead, you press down on your clit, letting the pleasure ride through your body.

“H-Hoseok,” you moan, as you rub your sensitive clit. You’re tired of teasing and clenching around nothing. With your other hand, you push two fingers into your dripping core, gasping as you tighten immediately around your fingers.

Despite having two fingers buried knuckles deep inside your pussy, you still feel empty. You need something more. Your thoughts drift to the alluring man in your foyer, dressed in black. His hands around your wrists, with fingers that could certainly satiate your carnal desires.

As your own fingers work, plunging deeper into yourself, your body rocks to meet them in the middle. The sheets stick to your skin as you feverishly move against it with a sheen of sweat covering your body.

Hoseok, you think, funny how you thought you had so much control over him, but now you’re willing to submit and throw the reigns to him. Just to have him desperately pounding into you, absolutely ruining you. What’s gotten into you? Is it the man drenched in sin who you've got a faint taste of?

“What,” comes the ragged growl at your door. “What the hell are you doing to me?”

His hand clutches the frame of your door, steadying himself from the intense pleasure rolling through him despite not lifting a finger. It can only be the power of a witch, specifically you, the wicked minx with a hunger for chaos.

Despite his sudden but anticipated appearance in your room, you don’t stop your ministrations, letting the lewd sounds of your juices answer his question. Too busy chasing your own high to notice he’s crept closer, darkened eyes watching as your slender fingers disappear inside yourself. He’s practically trembling as well, every swift movement of your hand has his cock twitching and begging to have you wrapped around it. In the strangest way he feels every bit of pleasure you do and it infuriates him that you have enough power to bring him to his knees.

“D-Don’t just watch,” you moan, splaying your other hand out across the sheets for him. “Touch me, Hoseok.”

Your wanton voice does not help the strain in his pants. As your fingers continue to work, feeling the coil of your stomach and your legs clamping together, he also feels the familiar tightness. Despite your request, Hoseok stays rooted to the side of your bed, preferring to watch instead. Allowing his eyes to wander lustfully as you come apart with just your fingers, drinking up the sight of cum leaking from your pussy and onto the sheets.

He just can’t look away, hexed by the sight of you absolutely wrecked. Damn witch, is it apart of this curse you bestowed on him or are you truly captivating his every whim?

You slowly remove your fingers, coated in white slick, to wipe it haphazardly on your sweaty sheets, but Hoseok’s hand wraps around your wrists. He brings your hand level with his lips, inspecting the milky substance drip down your fingers, before sticking his tongue out for a taste of your intoxicating flavor.

“Just fuck me already, Hoseok,” you groan, as he swipes his tongue between your two fingers and takes them both into his mouth. The wet muscle swirls around your knuckle, letting himself indulge in the taste.

Your fingers come out of his mouth with a pop and he chuckles, “Do you even deserve my cock? Why don’t you remove the curse and I’ll give you everything you want, baby.”

Your mouth twists down as you look at him standing over you with wicked promises in his eyes.

“No,” you scoff, pushing yourself up by your forearms.

Does he really think you’re that stupid? Like hell you’ll easily remove it just for sex.

“I’ll get you to one way or another.” His words are laced with a venomous promise. He sinks himself on to your mattress, crawling between your spread out legs and drinking up the sight of your dripping arousal.

Without warning, he dives down to lap up the remaining juices still leaking from your sensitive core. His tongue runs up and down your slit feverously, eliciting breathless moans to fall from your lips.

“Oh, f-fuck,” you moan at the sudden feeling of his tongue running through your glistening folds. Your fingers intertwine with his onyx hair, roughly gripping the roots.

Hoseok groans, feeling the faint tightness in himself begin to form. The throbbing of his cock is satisfied with the way he rutts himself against your bed like a bitch in heat. He can’t help it, these human weaknesses, needing to satisfy his own needs as well. Usually, he can easily ignore them, but he feels what you feel. The lust is overwhelming - absolutely mundane.

His nose brushes your sensitive clit causing jolts of fiery electricity to flood your body. He forces your thighs apart with both hands to avoid being smothered as your legs try clamping shut. His nails dig into your flesh, leaving deep crescent-shaped marks on your heated skin.

You grind your hips against his tongue, trying to get yourself off quicker. As your back arches, the tightness you feel intensifies. So close. You’re so close.

Sensing that you’re reaching your peak from the whines and moans, Hoseok suddenly pulls back. Your eyes shoot open, raising your head to scream for him to continue. You find him sitting on his heels with a lazy smirk as your arousal drips from his chin.

“Remove the mark.” He demands, dragging his tongue over his glistening lips to lick away your cum.

You groan, throwing your head back onto the pillows, letting your hands make their way down to your clit again to finish what he started. “The day Hell freezes over.”

“You’re such a stubborn slut, aren’t you?” Hoseok tisks, seizing your hand before you can touch yourself and pining it to the headboard. He does the same with your other hand.

He reaches up to undo the knot of his black tie, loosening it over his head and brings it to your hands. With each loop he makes and tightens around your wrists, he can feel the burn of silk against his as well. He knows they’re tight enough when he can feel his the pressure on his own wrists.

“What are you doing?” You ask as he pushes himself off the bed to rip open your side drawer. His hands rummage through your desk, moving down the next drawer when he doesn’t find whatever he’s looking for. You tug at the bindings, trying to break loose to stop him.

Hoseok pulls a familiar object out of the drawer, a cylindrical and unforgiving device you only use when you’re desperate.

“This looks fun,” he muses, raking his eyes over your restrained figure. He climbs back to his original position above you. “Here’s our new deal,” he says, switching the vibrator on letting the soft buzz fill the electrified air. “Let me go and I’ll let you come tonight.”

Hoseok trail the vibratory along the inside of your thigh, letting it gently massage the tender flesh. He waits patiently for your answer, expecting to be met with your desperate compliance.

You pull against the restraints and flinch your leg away from the roaming toy getting too close to your core. Maybe you want the punishment, maybe you’re crazy to refuse the devil. Whatever it is, you still own him in the end, he’s all yours and he’s not going anywhere.

“Never.”

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eb-byestelle · 7 years ago

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A word about Kaname

From the first moment when I set up an account here, I was thinking about writing a text dedicated to Kaname. Initially, I expressed my opinion through debates, editions and analysis of small details. However, it's time to fulfill my original desire and write my own Kaname Kuran's analysis.

There are already interesting, insightful analyzes of Kaname. However, none of these texts is based mainly on the screen adaptation of manga. My journey with Vampire Knight began with the anime. That's where I saw Kaname for the first time and he immediately caught my attention. So I decided that it would be an interesting difference, especially because that's where he made such a big impression on me that remained inside of me forever. Therefore, I want to not only present my analysis, but also to prove how much the screen adaptation reveals. In the second part, I will complement the analysis with manga information and juxtapose with knowledge from anime.

I have to admit that at the beginning of watching the series I fell into the trap called "poor Zero". His endless, tangible despair was emphasized in each episode. However, at the same time I started to like Kaname. In a completely different way. I was charmed and fascinated by his person. I wondered how many intriguing elements are hidden inside of him. It was visible from the very beginning. Tenderness, intelligence, strength, but also weaknesses, loneliness and this kind of darkness, which gave rise to numerous questions about how it actually came into being in him.

Soon after, when the "fumes of suffering" spread around Zero subsided, I realized that I wasn't a fan of his character, but I only felt sorry for him. With time, compassion also disappeared when I saw how many opportunities for a better life Zero lost through his doubts and the lack of a distinct personality. Pity turned into indifference. From then on, Kaname mattered.

One of the things that intrigued me in him, were various kinds of contradictions. On the one hand, he teased a vampire on level D (Zero), on the other hand he cooperated with a human, what's more, a former hunter (Cross Kaien), while hunters are his natural enemies. He also seemed to be respectful of the hunters. In other words, he respected and helped someone who in theory was his enemy. What’s more, he trusted him completely in the matter of protecting the most precious person for him.

What's more, he treated badly only one vampire of level D. - As if he had a goal in this... - I thought. Then it turned out that he wanted to instil in Zero hatred of pure-blood vampires to he would kill Rido (based on knowledge from the second season. We know from the manga that it was not just about Rido.) This was confirmed by the Kaname's satisfaction of the Zero's big hatred for him. Who wants to someone else hate him? O.O Someone who has in this some purpose. What is the purpose of a person who treats humans with respect and can love as much as he loves Yuuki? The goal is obvious - the help the weakers and the protection of the loved one.

He felt a rage that Zero was hurting Yuuki and jealousy, seeing him with her, which made that the conflict with Zero in contrary to some opinions, for me looked quite funny. I felt like I would see two boys from elementary school, where one, seeing how the other is hitting on to his girlfriend, glues the rubber to his hair, and this other one for each time thoughtlessly lets himself be provokedand and in anger he throws the books in this first one ^^"

I began to wonder that if wouldn't be his plan and his feelings for Yuuki, Zero would be probably completely indifferent for him...

What's more, besides of Seiren, I didn't see him making for himself any other servants, while as a pureblood, he could easily create a whole army of faithful subjects. Based on the Seiren's submissive behavior, more humble than the others in relation to Kaname, I concluded that she must have been a vampire of lower rank, probably created by Kaname, and basing on his tenderness towards people, it probably happened due to some sudden circumstances. (VKM explained this situation in an interesting way, combining the facts from volume 10 - Hino, thank you that among so many hopeless chapters of VKM you gave us inter alia the chap. 4 xD)

On the one hand, he told others what to do. On the other hand, when Ichijou objected to him to protect Shiki, Kaname didn't use his vampire power of pure blood to control the will of Ichijou. He didn't do anything to him. He just respected his decision. Then, when Ichijou, (already as a theoretical traitor), offered to kill Asato Ichiou by himself, Kaname only patted his shoulder and went. And he never punished him. He always liked and respected him.

The only person of the lower level from which he sometimes joked, was Aidou. Personally I have a feeling that apart from the Aidou's unruly character, who sometimes had to be "tame" (expecially that we talk about the vampire's world, where everything is even more dangerous and "unruly" behaviours are rather inadvisable) Kaname didn't respect in him that excessive, blind obedience. This is especially evident when they were a children and Kaname simply accepted the bitter words of Aidou, who initially didn't want to be friends with him. This, by the way, gave me reason to think about Kaname's self-esteem, because as we know, he didn't to Aidou anything wrong. They both just then met each other. I began to wonder if under the facade of self-confidence and always raised head there was a person who just despised herself. And if so, why?

What's more, none of the students of the night classes were intimidated by Kaname, nor were they offered any payment (I mean the two most popular ways to get someone's favors). It made that I saw it's not Kaname who is the real ruthless tyrant (although he knew for sure how to use a situation!) but they are these one who are blind to the principles instilled in them, which govern the world of the aristocracy.

I knew that his haughtiness was caused by inter alia from his social position. The high-ranking people or public figures in our world behave in a similar way. It's known that they are like this "on public", and different "in private", that's why his alleged "conceit" on public was nothing new to me. Especially when we see how humble and warm he can be in private, with Yuuki or in the past towards Juuri and Haruka. Because of the enormous power and high social position (basically the highest) he felt the burden of responsibility on himself, passing only the most important details to the others. This is visible when Aidou says that he wants to know more, on which Kaname says to Aidou not waste his life on this.

Another thing which impressed me exceptionally and which as a first draw my attention, was openness in terms of feelings. Quite often in anime/manga I see an annoying "smokescreens", games like from kindergarten, the escapes while most of series, excuses. Sometimes these "plays" are very cute, but how long? And why to behave like an idiot, don't respect a girl, or try to hide the own weakness... Meanwhile, in Kaname's case, we can see clearly what he feels for Yuuki. That he loves her, that he wants to be with her. In his feelings he is steady and determined. He's toward her nice, gallant, romantic, openly expresses feelings with words and gestures. Even when he hides something in front of her, he does it to protect her and move her away from worries. I admit that when I saw this, I felt a breeze of freshness, that after seeing so many infantile stories in other serieses I see a man who in an open and mature way offers the beloved girl his love.

Later I saw who he was before the tragedy with Rido. He loved Juuri and Haruka as if they were his real parents. Besides of this he didn't agree to Yuuki would be kept locked up. I also saw that he tried to destroy Rido by himself. When it turned out that it was impossible, he created a plan which not only gave him the highest probability of fulfilling his goal and saving his loved ones, what he couldn't do by himself. This plan also limited the number of victims to a minimum, focusing on one warrior with enormous power, which had the task of destroying the source of evil. The others were only supposed to "cover the rear".

I saw his weakness, deep sorrow and fear of losing Yuuki. It also moved me and gave me a food for thought...

I emphasize that all the time I am based only on anime.

Already there I've seen many elements of Kaname's personality worth attention. I was then so charmed by what I saw in the screen adaptation, that tbh, I felt that it's enough for me. Already then, I saw that he was a good friend, lover, brother, son, vampire. He had besides the most beautiful voice I’ve ever heard among seiyuus, but ok, it’s just btw ^^

Later, out of curiosity, I looked into the manga.

For a few obvious reasons, I'm happy that I did it. I obtained further valuable information about Kaname, including I discovered one of his greatest secrets - his age. This is very important information which changes many things. It must be included in the analysis, because in combination with his experiences it explains a lot of his behavior. Already in the anime series I knew that Kaname is the ancestor of vampires, i.e. he's not 18, as it seemed earlier. However, the information that he's 10,000 years old, makes us realize how deeply emotionally burned must be this old, tired vampire. It shows how much he had to survive, see, experience. It's unbelievable quantity of time... For some time he was so lonely that he even didn’t remember what’s his name. It's also a problematic element, because it makes it difficult to analyze the character of Kaname, i.e. someone older than any creatures known to us, even those from manga. What's more, he was born by the human while he was an immortal vampire. For these two reasons, it is different than all the vampires known in the VK universe (the another ancestors also had this second feature but none of them was so old). Fortunately, with a little deeper thought it's possible. Although still difficult ;3

What's more, it turned out that he already had once lost a close person, very suddenly and tragically, which explains his tendency to obsessions and anxiety and his fear that a loved one may be harmed or killed during his absence or temporary loss of control. Hence his possessiveness while some time.

I also got to know how much good things he did for others. Medicines for people from his own blood, help them in the collect crops, drinking blood only in a gentle way, without having to change people into his servants, help the hunters and others during the war, being one of those who initiated pacifism and living in peace. He was the first who tried to create a medicine which might to change a vampires into the humans, what is one of the evidences. He was also in a distant past the king of vampires, just and legendary to the level that Juuri and Haruka decided to named their first child by his name. (I attach a link to the post, where did the inspiration come from to mention this interesting detail, which is the giving a names in royal families >>Click<<)

These events also prompted me to ask a question: Does Kaname in the depth of his heart dream about being a human? Not being condemned to endless life, painful vampire's desires, lack of sun, a huge power that carries so much? I wrote about it during the post "Humanity”. >>Click<< Here I will only mention about it.

Next we see his boundless sacrifice because of his love to Yuuki, the sacrifice his own happiness, his own physical state (I mean discomfort because of the thirst for her blood), and his own morals. Seeing his personality, attitude and the fact that for the first 9995 years he was the definition of the word "kindness", it's ridiculous for me to say that giving Zero pain was for him completely indifferent all the time. I think that at the very beginning, while creating his plan, he felt bad and simply rejected his conscience for love and higher purposes, creating a paradox of "light and darkness" in which he started to be. If it were otherwise, the plan would bring to him a joy and satisfaction, while for real he felt doubt and self-loathing.

I was also moved by the fact that Kaname continued to help people, despite the fact that despite his previous help and goodness, they banished him because of who he was, calling him embodied blasphemy. I felt that I saw something similar before. Already in the arch 1, when Aidou rejected Kaname's friendship, and Kaname's reaction was not astonishment but the acceptance of this information, as if it was something even more correct, than if Aidou would accepted him. It's sad that someone so valuable had such a low self-esteem. What's more, his paradox of "light and shadow" deepened this state even more.

I began to ask myself why he had chosen such a way to achieve the goal instead of the previously chosen path or some other way. We already know what his purpose was. But why did he choose just this way of its realization?

Summing up his enslavement by Rido, the inability to total kill his enemy, an unique, bordering on absurdity the creature who are the hunters' twins, where one of them, thanks to the devouring of a part of the brother already in the womb, he made more powerful than other hunters, which is the most effective material on the killer, combined with the extreme long age of Kaname, and therefore also a big life experience, disappointments and internal burnout, I can confidently say that the way of achieving the goal was in his case created by one simple factor:

Lack of faith. And more specifically, the loss of faith over the years and the many experiences which led to this. Faith has been replaced by fear, despair and determination.

Everything he did in the past, before the situation with Rido, and what many of the characters of the series did, who, as we know, are young and hopeful, it was driven by faith, as evidenced by the fact that these are the actions more moral than effective. I.e. those one which don't give the same effectiveness as actions devoid of something what increases the possibility of defeat and is called "morality". The medicine is a good idea. But can it be done? How long will it take? How much damage will happen in the meantime? This is one of those plans that are not an ax that cuts through, but a subtle step forward, not knowing whether the goal will be achieved, and even if yes, it's not known when and what will happen during this time. While the plan to annihilate Rido and other pureblood vampires with someone's hands, though not very ethical, was the most effective.

It's the style of action of a person who has lost faith and puts forward the most radical steps, at which the margin of error is as small as possible.

As we know, pureblood vampires have for thousands of years preyed on the weaker, giving in to the instincts. After years, not much changed. Ex-humans continue to walk on the Earth, and purebloods after the overthrow of the corrupt council and hence, after losing the „brakes”, became even more dangerous. It comes to some kind of generalization that these creatures are a source of danger, because if in case of vampires' lower-level the people are able to simply win with them by anti-vampire weapons, in case of the pureblood vampires, they are on powerful enough that the weapon itself turns out to be not enough.

There are more an examples like this. Let Yuuki, who is still inexperienced, go outside, where there are swarms of enemies, which raises the level of danger that she will be killed or wounded, expecially in that "dangerous" year? Or to bet on effectiveness and not let her go out? After killing the council and taking control by a Kaname, other pureblood vampires started to plotting something secretly. Kaito one time mentioned about that. The evidence was visible at the vampire banquet, and the worry about Yuuki's life was justified already on the same day when Yuuki went outside. Kaname told her directly that he would do everything to Yuuki could go outside again. He knew, however, that he could allow it only when the danger would be as small as possible. Otherwise, he could rely almost exclusively on the aforementioned faith. Especially, that in the main series Yuuki was the opposite of the word "cautious" (fortunately in VKM it has changed).

I emphasized the killing of Rido, because it's possible you could have noticed that Kaname fueled the most in Zero the hatred to vampires during the plan associated with Rido in arc 1. After his death, Kaname, even though he still wanted Zero to kill all pureblood vampires, no longer he was so involved in manipulation and after some time he took matters into his own hands. This is imo an interesting detail that shows Kaname's independence, which he has previously shown through thousands years of struggle for survival in the world just after climate changes. This is also another proof that this loss of faith was what caused such a radical system of action, which I personally called the " extreme/last resort", chosen at the end of the journey, when the previous methods didn't work.

Even in case of fact he and Yuuki love each other, Kaname has lost faith that he is able to make her happy although, as we know, Yuuki was happy thanks to him a lot of times, she was ready for a relationship and she wanted to start everything once again. Besides it was also the effect of the previously mentioned low self-esteem. Seeing him as an old, tired vampire and her as an inexperienced teenager, I see some sense in this, nonetheless still seeing how great love connects them, I believe that it could have been avoided. But... after all, this is story from the type of the goddamn romantic tragedy xp However, I think that if Kaname was with Yuuki now, when they both tasted a long vampire life and a full of sun human life, I see even more potential than in the main series! But I have already talked about this on the occasion of another post ;)

Better define the matter of his, as we say, "gray" morality, it would be an absolute mistake to regard him as a villain or antagonist, i.e. a person "black" morally. For the informations for these „less informed” - He's not! Mentioned in the first part the higher goals, protection of the weaker, of the beloved girl, everything this is beautiful, noble, magnanimous. Nobody should forget about all of this, trying to understand this character. Only he also wasn't a "white" moraly person. Because who is? This is one of the many aspects that makes us see how complex the charakter of Kaname is.

Regarding his relationship with Yuuki and some single elements which have aroused controversy, I have already explained many of these behaviors. These so-called "abuse" are really the kind of overprotection which is the result of the factors discussed and has nothing to do with the cruelty. Hovewer I decided, that it's worth mentioning the famous sentence in which Kaname says that if he and Yuuki are separated, or he will kill her (which we know, that would never happen, so I don't know how idiotic someone has to be to believe it) or let her kill him. I case of these ones who say that these words are something bad - How many romances these people have seen in their life? Especially those where love is such a huge and twisted that almost crazy? Please... Such a sad texts in the style of :"If you leave me, I will die.", are in so many romances that it's just surprises me that someones are still surprised by this. This is in movies etc. one of the most popular expressions of love so deep and crazy that a person just cannot imagine life without a beloved and prefers to die than to be far away from a loved one.

Generally, in term of the knowledge from manga about Kaname, I have undoubtedly seen there its cumulating, widening wounds, suffering, weakness and burnout, through which his mental condition deteriorated significantly, resulting a wobbly attitudes and behaviors. I especially see this in comparison with the behavior of the "present" human Kaname without those traumatic memories.

I also saw, how much Yuuki and Kaname love and desire each other. Almost to the madness. The romantic scenes of these two have undoubtedly aroused my fascination. Among the various romances in the world of manga and anime, which I have seen so far, this couple is for me an intriguing difference.

At the end of the series Kaname changed the method of operation to the method of cooperation and sacrificed himself for the others, which once again proved his inner chivalry and devotion. Where did this sudden change of decision come from? I think, besides the absurd, which will be for me ridiculous probably forever, ie. that the furnance started to cool down just then, and Kaname as the most powerful vampire and protoplast, was the perfect material for a new weapon, came to the fore his gentle heart, which despite the "ash" that settled on it, still beat in his chest and could love more than ever. Kaname, regardless of the form of realisation the goal, wanted to die and he wanted to do it for the sake of Yuuki and the weaker. Appeared the opportunity, to instead of still getting own hands dirty, fulfil the goal in a more subtle way and renew the belief that even not fully effective actions are able to produce results. As we see in VKM, the lower effectiveness makes the enemies are still lurking, the danger is still big. But Kaname's wish to end the endless journey in the name of who and what he loved and wanted to protect, was fulfilled. What is beautiful - his hidden wish of being human too.

However, there are reasons why, despite so much valuable information, I'm partially discomforted because of the fact that I looked into the manga. I saw that the continuation is heading for something that, although it's still deep and moving, becomes more and more forced and overly dramatic. So dramatic that almost preposterous...

After volume 10, the plot became much more complicated, and at the same time, paradoxically devoid of the important details which we got in less complex arc 1 (regarding arc 1 ofc), which is imo a lack of respect for each character and the overall potential of the series.

Manga also turned out to be much more bothering. There appeared some single moments which became a "stodge" for the Kaname's anti-fans, whose immediately caught it, removed from the context and deprive a sense. While a story is not just single moments. They are part of a larger whole, which is accompanied by numerous elements and sources of their creation. While with the aforementioned more quanity of informations and explanations, more explicit statements, this could have been avoided, or at least reduced. Now VKM tries to fix these "shortcomings" and slowly closes the mouth of these the more embittered, showing Kaname in a very good light, highlighting the elements of his personality, which should have been even more highlighted already in the main series. This is a big plus for this addition, but it's hard not to notice that the first seed was sown.

It's interesting that the season 3 has never created. The plot of the first two seasons, ie. the first 9 volumes, I liked it the most (volume 10 was published after the anime, and was a bit filler, but for the chap 48 it's worth reading ;3). Some minor modifications in the anime, like changing the ending, subtracting certain scenes, adding others. It all showed me how good this series is able to look like, when someone new will come and manage to fix this and that. (Maybe besides of cutting the fight with Rido, which was however much better in the manga). I think it was one of the reasons why the season 3 was never created. The quanity of mistakes which Hino did after the volume 10 is really difficult to fix.

As we see, the anime shows many Kaname's features. Manga is also an important supplement, especially if someone besides of the general outline wants to really explore this special character. In anime we can also see how he moves, what voice's intonation he has. This is also very important to judge someone properly. In terms of perceiving anime, the opinions are divided, some people are delighted, others not. For me, generally the anime was a a little bit reworked copy of the manga, so I don't see much difference in the reception of this character. Music also did a lot, beautifully fitting into and emphasize the pop-gothic, melancholy climate of the series. However, I don't hide that I have always lamented that in terms of graphics (and a bit in term of animaction), the anime is limping against the absolutely resplendent drawing we see in the manga.

There is a theory that a popular series known elsewhere, gained popularity not only because of the excellent, immersive story, but also thanks to the so-called. "Shinkai's clouds", in other words, thanks to unbelievable care for graphics and animation. In case of VK, this aspect has been seriously neglected. Believe or not, but these small details really important and give a lot! I think that if the anime were drawn as fabulously as a manga, with a fluent, refined animation, in combination with the other elements that we already know, it would be something really spectacular, and the reception of the characters and the whole screen adaptation of VK would be even better.

I suppose that person who would make the best analysis of Kaname, would be his “creator”, ie. Matsuri Hino. From my side I tried to do my best to make this analysis as insightful as possible, on the occasion also evaluating the elements of the manga and its adaptation. I hope you enjoyed!

#Kaname Kuran #Vampire Knight #Vampire Knight Memories #Eternal Yume #A word about Kaname

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