#(in some continuities) was at least partially responsible for the death of his human father | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

royallyjoon · 4 years ago

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nephilim (cinq)

you know where the cred goes 💙

cult au, supernatural creature au

yandere bts x f! reader

warnings: yandere themes, physical assault, graphic descriptions of violence, manipulation, (slight) gaslighting

you were left, abandoned by mortals and immortals alike. darkness knows no bounds, and neither does punishment. there is no refuge in neither blood nor flesh from its wrath. if darkness welcomes you, should you open your arms to it in return? if darkness turns you away, does that mean you’ve won? should you choose to cast aside this lonely path of yours, and your conviction along with it, regardless of whatever other horrors lie in wait, you will be saved.

——————————————————————

What is one to do when they hear the words they’ve feared the most leave someone else’s mouth?

The moment they graced Jin’s eardrums, he gripped his phone so tightly he could hear the glass screen crack.

He and Yoongi had been assisting their father in the woods with preparations for the next meeting, the ominous hour approaching in no less than ten days.

He ignored Moonsik and Yoongi for a moment to answer his phone.

“Hello?”

He could barely make out any of Jimin’s words--the boy’s blubbering masked too much of the information.

“Robotics...bathroom...”

“Jimin, I can’t hear anything over the sound of you crying. What’s going on?”

“(Y/N)...rooftop...Aemilia...”

“What are you trying to say?” Yoongi stopped talking to the older man, shifting his gaze toward his elder brother as he noticed Jin’s voice raise in irritation and concern.

“Blood...”

“Blood?!”

——————————————————————

Jimin had walked out of robotics a little early today, bored to tears.

He had felt much better after getting rid of the idiotic gaggle that dared to threaten you, and threaten him into abandoning you.

He should have known it wouldn’t be enough. He should’ve never left your side, he thought as he kneeled on the rooftop, staring forlornly at the pool of partially dried blood on the concrete.

“She was bleeding, hyung. Aemilia or her people must have taken her, but I have no idea where they went.”

Namjoon had been in the middle of a meeting with the school board, representing the student council.

Hoseok had been in the dance studio, barking orders out at somewhat competent underclassmen.

Jungkook and Taehyung were holed up in the younger’s room, playing games rather than doing any actual work.

In short, none of them were prepared. None of them had been there for you as they had promised.

You trusted them when you needed them most, and they left you high and dry.

Jimin felt like he would never be able to get the disappointment and guilt off of his chest.

——————————————————————

Namjoon bounded into the clearing, his usually polished exterior uncharacteristically tarnished.

Hoseok appeared not long after him, having raced to the woods the moment he received the news.

They were met by Seokjin and Yoongi, who stood with their arms crossed over their chests, near a miserable Jungkook and a pacing Taehyung. Both boys had been in the house, so they were the first to arrive.

Jimin got there last, his hands and uniform pants stained red from the puddle he had kneeled in on the rooftop.

Six pairs of eyes landed on him and his appearance, confirming the worst.

“Three!” Seokjin cried incredulously. “Three of you were on campus, surrounded by a bunch of humans, and not a single one of you managed to keep an eye on her!”

“She could be anywhere,” Jungkook groaned in fear.

“By all means, please don’t start caring now. It’s too late.” Yoongi snapped at him. “You and Taehyung drove straight home to do absolutely nothing. You could at least have offered her a ride home and ensured that she was safe. You’re just as responsible as they are.”

Jungkook’s eyes grew glassy, but only because he knew his brother was right.

“As much as you enjoy playing the blame game, we have more pressing matters to address.” Namjoon interjected in an attempt to calm them down.

“That doesn’t even begin to cover it, Namjoon.” Seokjin’s icy tone sent a chill down their backs. “If we really wanted to play the blame game, we would have recognized how this is all your fault.”

The leader stood in tense silence.

“What did I tell you mere hours before this happened?” He continued, walking toward Namjoon until they were face to face. “I told you to get your shit together and to keep that girl in line. Hell, none of this would have happened if we hadn’t followed your idiotic plan in the first place.”

Seokjin was rarely ever angry enough to hiss in his brother’s face. They had all learned a long time ago that to provoke the oldest was to invoke Death.

“We all agreed his plan was the best choice at the time, hyung.” Yoongi cautiously approached the two and lay a hand on Seokjin’s shoulder, leveling a glare of his own at Namjoon. “We can deal with him later. We need to find her first.”

Jimin took the opportunity to step further into the clearing and brandished his phone, the device still open to his messages. “(Y/N) texted me saying Aemilia invited her up to roof and that she assumed it was for a confrontation of some sort.”

“Aemilia doesn’t have the ability or strength to do damage like that by herself, though.” Taehyung frowned as he gestured to Jimin’s clothes. “Unless...”

The brothers looked at each other in realization and one by one, rushed out the clearing and out the forest.

A quick drive to the center of the city and one pitifully short interrogation later, their suspicions were settled.

Hoseok growled as he re-entered the van, slamming the car door shut. “How dare he? When did he gain the courage to mobilize our own forces without our knowledge?”

“Never mind Augustus,” Jimin said, although his eyes blazed with anger. “Where would they take her?”

“That dog wouldn’t have taken her to the normal base, she has far too much malicious intent for (Y/N).” Taehyung growled.

Jungkook lightly tapped his fingers on the car door, looking out the window when the thought hit him.

“You don’t think they’d take her to...?”

His brothers looked at him in confusion, but he pointed out the window at the tree line of the woods.

Having grown up in those woods, they knew it like the back of their hand.

They knew the places were young townspeople would go to goof off, the places they had claimed for themselves, and the places that were...strictly off-limits.

It didn’t take much longer for the realization to set in.

Once it had, they took off in the direction of the forest.

——————————————————————

In your dream, you once again stood before Ichabod Chapel.

The Chapel, adorned with green vines, had long since been abandoned. Once, the walls must have been a beautiful ivory, but now they were a dark beige, having rotted with time.

A complete opposite to the image of the decrepit church, the seven Kim brothers stood on the ground in front of the entrance, visions dressed in various black silks.

Contrary to its original purpose, the material looked anything but light and airy--in fact, it looked as though it was weighed down or soaked, doused in some unknown substance.

You looked down to see that you were dressed in a white, ceremonial outfit. It billowed out like a ball gown, the sleeves drawing lacy patterns swirling up to your thumb.

When you looked up, you were stunned by the brilliant, black wings that extended from the backs of the seven men before you.

The sight of their wings enraptured you, those gorgeous appendages, feathers glossy under the moonlight.

Each of them had their own, unique set, varying in shapes and sizes, though the largest pair of wings belonged to none other than Kim Namjoon, who stood in the center of his brothers, hands in his pocket as he flashed you a familiar, mischievous grin.

Namjoon was the first to step out of the line, casually extending his hand out to you, and you hesitantly raised a dainty, (s/c) hand in return, placing it in his.

He pulled you into his arms and you felt him wrap them around you.

His brothers came to circle around the two of you, eventually joining the hug as well.

Then, the whispers began.

Their tone was loving, though their words were anything but.

They were desperate, consuming, obsessive, threatening.

They wanted you to love them, they needed you to love them, why couldn’t you understand?

Your head pounded, filled to the brim with cruel promises of tenderness and affection.

The substance from their silks seeped into your clothes, rapidly staining your white outfit red.

You realized just what it was that they were doused in and tried to pull away from their arms but they surrounded you, locking you into their hold.

The harder you fought to get out, the tighter they held on to you until you felt as though you couldn’t breathe.

Things were better this way. There’s nothing they wouldn’t do to protect you. There’s nothing they wouldn’t do for your love.

How could you scorn their love for you? How could you treat them like this?

They didn’t want to hurt anyone you cared about. They didn’t want to eliminate everyone you love in order to bring you to their side, but they would if they had to.

They paid no mind to the way you were drowning in the smell of it, drowning in blood. Was it yours or someone else’s? Was it your mother’s? Mana’s?

All you knew was that they were done playing games.

——————————————————————

Your eyes flashed open and you winced as you immediately wished they hadn’t.

Your head pounded, each thump forcing your eyes shut with the intensity, still not having recovered from the several hits it received.

For a moment it felt as though you were still unconscious and drenched in darkness, as when you tried to get a glimpse of your surroundings, you only saw shadows and moving, ambiguous shapes.

The movement of the ground beneath you, however, quickly dispelled such thoughts.

It appeared as though you were being carried over someone’s shoulder. Despite the extra weight, the person you currently rested on was light and quick on their feet, moving with a speed that made you feel worse than you already were.

The familiar crunching of leaves and branches on the ground made your heart beat just a bit harder.

According to their footsteps and what you could see of your surroundings, you surmised they had taken you to the forest.

It had been mid afternoon when Aemilia and the people who worked for her and her family accosted you at the roof. Now, there was barely a hint of the moon in your surroundings.

Did she intend to have her people tie you up to the wooden pyre and set you aflame, like some sick imitation of a witch burning at the stake? Or to make it seem as though the Kims had done it?

Despite how afraid of Mayor Kim the citizens were, there was no way everyone would believe you died in such a gaudy display.

Only the purple fire that Mayor Kim was capable of conjuring left nothing behind, after all. If they were to going to get rid of you by fire, your remains would be found.

There’s no way you could ensure that, however.

There’s no guarantee that Aemilia wouldn’t be able to make good on her promise and utterly destroy you.

A light cough broke the silence, bringing you back to the present, and you tried to calm your heartbeat. There’s no way your captors would believe you were asleep if you kept scaring yourself like this.

You felt a tight, scratchy material around your wrists and your hands laying against your back.

You successfully clenched your hands. So they hadn’t drugged you while you were out.

You were hesitant to shift, as you feared your captors would notice your cognizant state, so you resorted yourself to blinking at the ground and gritting your teeth from the pain and nausea.

Thankfully, the people you were with appeared to be none the wiser.

“Are we almost there?” A deep voice, seemingly annoyed, huffed.

“Be patient, Lee.” You felt the vibrations of the person carrying you as they replied. “This isn’t just any other job.”

“I understand, but don’t you think Miss Augustus is going too far?”

Your captor scoffed. “If you want to question the Augustuses, thereby questioning the Kims and their authority, be my guest. I just hope you and your family will be able to deal with the consequences.”

The second captor, Lee, had nothing else to say after that.

The quiet of the forest left a buzzing in your ears and the swinging sensation your body was making whilst strewn over the person’s back became too much to bear.

You figured you’d just make your captor angrier if you barfed down their back and tried to shift to draw their attention, but it was too late.

The acrid taste of bile and what you had for lunch earlier that day reached your mouth and your lifted your head, spitting out as much of it as you could.

There was a yell of anger and disgust, and your captor shoved you off of them and onto the forest floor.

You held back a shout as you hit the ground, injuring your side even further, and let out the rest of your meal.

“What the-?! This disgusting bitch!”

Your captor launched another kick at your stomach and you fought back tears as they aggravated the wounds already in place.

Lee stopped them after a while, complaining that another round of beating would just delay their job even further.

You wiped your mouth off on your shoulder and grimaced.

To your surprise, you found that you could move your legs.

The first captor lifted you to your feet by your collar, and you recognized him as Mr. Byun, the man the strawberry blonde had referred to earlier.

“Your legs still work for a reason,” he sneered and pushed you forward.

Your legs did indeed work, but were wobbly after hours of no use.

You tripped and almost fell to the floor again, the bonds around your wrists preventing you from reaching out to break your fall, when the second captor grabbed you by the back of your shirt and held you up.

“I’m not really in the mood for any of your foolishness, girl.” Lee glowered down at you. “Use your legs properly, or I’ll break them and drag you by the hair. It would be all too easy.”

You heard a suspicious click and your eyes flickered over to Byun, whose hand rested on his waist. In the other, however, he fiddled with a small lever on what appeared to be a firearm.

“Do you understand?” The second captor shook you and your brain protested, rattling around far too much for its liking.

The thought of escape, which had been curling up inside you like the beginning of a fire, was quickly extinguished. You squeezed your eyes shut and nodded.

He pushed you away from him and you walked, following him with Byun at your back, trying to think of a way out of this situation.

You couldn’t tamper with the ropes around your wrist, as Byun was watching your every move. There was also the gun, and the fact that both men were trained in the use of it as well as martial arts.

Was there truly no way to escape?

——————————————————————

The three of you walked for what felt like hours, reaching a part of the woods that you had never seen before.

Here, the trees were sparse and had already lost all of their leaves. The dark branches coiled and twisted toward the sky, as if reaching for affection that would never be reciprocated. The stumps were old, the ground hard.

And then, a clearing. But not the one you were used to seeing.

Your heart dropped as you walked between two trees, noticing the view beyond them.

You could now tell that it was well after midnight, for the sun was nowhere to be seen. Nevertheless, as always, the moon was high in the sky.

Wylynne gazed down on the clearing with a force, as if the moon goddess wanted you to see bright and clear what awaited you.

The crumbling cliff before you overlooked a tranquil lake. Clouds hung in the distance, obscuring what was undoubtedly the outside world.

The outside of Ichabod.

Such tranquility had no business here, you thought to yourself as the pace of your breathing increased.

Your captors had brought you to Lorne’s Ledge, also known as the edge of no return.

It was forbidden territory for any Ichabodian citizen.

Even before Mayor Kim came to town, even before the Augustus family had their reign: this was one of the oldest, most sacred spots in Ichabod.

The lady of the cliff, Lorne, saw to it that the forsaken never returned home.

You shuddered. The folklore didn’t scare you in the slightest. It would always be the work of man that you detested.

Yet, you couldn’t help but feel some foreign, oppressive gaze resting on you now that you were here. As if Lorne herself were staring at you, waiting for you to join her in the watery depths--

That familiar click sounded again and your eyes shot to the side. You tried to slowly turn around, but the press of metal against your back forced you to stop all movement.

Lee smirked. “We have arrived at your final destination, my lady.”

“Miss Augustus was generous enough to leave you with two options. You can walk off and take a nice rest in the lake, or you can die before your body ever hits the water.” The man smiled mirthlessly down at you. “Which would you prefer?”

You blinked rapidly, mind racing. Even if you were capable of swimming, with these injuries, you wouldn’t be able to survive the fall off the ledge,

They truly meant for you to die.

Lee didn’t seem to be in the mood for your deliberation as his cruel smile slipped into an infuriated frown. “Choose.” He growled. “My friend here would be all too happy to make the choice for you. How does a bullet in your brain and being rolled off the cliff sound?”

Byun dug the weapon into your skin and you winced, shaking your head.

“I’ll-I’ll go. I’ll walk myself.”

Your voice cracked horribly after not speaking for so many hours, but the message was received.

The metal was removed from your backside and you sighed in relief.

The man in front of you said nothing, simply stepping out of your path.

You took a couple more breaths and slowly turned to face him. “C-Can I ask you to do something? As a final request.”

He raised an eyebrow at you in response.

You titled your head in the direction of your back. “Can you untie my hands? After I disappear, there might be a search for me, and someone might try to dig through the lake for my body. A suicide will be completely ruled out if they find the ropes.”

There was no way this would work. Even the Augustuses were too intimidated to bother touching the lake for fear of Lorne’s wrath.

Besides, the police knew when and where to look, and where to say they looked. They would lie to your friends and family through their teeth.

Lee must not have been on the force for very long, however, because he grunted and pulled your hands to him.

With a slice, the ropes fell to the ground and you clutched your wrists to your chest, nodding partly in thanks and partly in disbelief.

It...worked.

You rubbed your hands together and gently blew on them, fingers numb from the cold breeze.

Your captors stood together between the trees, blocking the entrance. They murmured quietly to themselves and you continued to morph your face and body expressions into one of a pitiful teenager about to die, concealing the rather reckless thoughts you were having.

You finally turned around and walked back until you were in front of them, catching the two men off guard. They quieted and stared at you, hands at their weapons.

You met each of them in the eye and bowed, lower than you ever had before, then stood upright.

They looked at you incredulously, giving you just enough time to give Lee a harsh kick between his legs and pry the knife out of his hand.

You slashed at his neck, adrenaline returning full force, and actually managed to cut the man.

He shouted in pain and brought a hand up to the wound, trying to stop the blood.

Before you could turn to face Byun, however, the loud crack of a gunshot was heard throughout the forest and you felt a painful sting on your hand.

You yelped as you dropped the knife.

Then, there was a second gunshot and the pain returned full force, this time on your shoulder.

The elder captor, completely fed up with your actions, slammed the gun against your head and you crumpled to the ground.

You could feel something wet on your hand and clothes, but there was too much of it to be sweat in the midnight chill. You slowly lifted your hand, only to see it covered in a dark liquid.

Byun restrained Lee from attempting to beat you this time, barely casting a glance at your pitiful form.

“Calm yourself. She won’t be alive for much longer.” He gruffed. “She said she would walk herself, so walk she will. We’re just here to watch and make sure it happens.”

He stood over your form and pointed the gun at your head. “What a useless attempt. Get up.”

Your shoulder and hand burned like hell, but you complied.

You got to your feet once more and stumbled forward, every step taking you further and further away from the two.

The barrel of the gun followed your every move.

The tears you’d been struggling to hold back ran full force now at the thought of your imminent death. But rather than let your captors feast upon the sight of your defeated form, you stopped.

You were covered in blood. Your uniform was sullied by your own vomit and dirt.

But you straightened your back, ignoring the pain in your shoulder, and held your head up high.

You had reached the edge of the cliff now, but your vision was too blurry to see anything besides the vast blue beneath you.

The lake that rested below had no warmth or safety to provide for you, but neither did the forest behind you.

You considered praying to Wylynne to see if, in all her majesty and grace, she would save you.

Yet clearly, just like all the people who had come before you, just like the lady of the lake herself, the moon goddess had forsaken you.

You were tired. Too tired to fight against what some would call fate.

You whispered an apology to your mother and Mana, and perhaps even to the brothers, the reason why, you did not know.

Your eyes captured the overcast image of the outside world one last time, then you turned around and took a backward step off the cliff with a sad smile, eyes falling closed, mentally locked on that solitary picture.

Above you, you thought you heard the pained screams and grunts of your captors, sounding as though they were struggling against something or someone.

But before you, you saw your mother with her arms outstretched, that patient, loving smile on her face.

You reached forward, wrapped your arms around her, and readily slipped into darkness.

Above your falling form, a shadow zipped through the dawn, racing to reach you before you hit the water.

He saw you smile and lift an arm into the air, before the smile slipped off your face and your limbs went limp.

The large, black wings at his back beat furiously and he flew faster than he ever had before until he had your beaten form cradled to his chest.

The two of you suddenly shot upward into the air as your descent slowed, and as the first rays of daylight peeked out from above the clouds, his form hung in the air, almost frozen in time, black wings outstretched and supporting the two of you as he floated above Lorne’s Ledge.

Kim Jimin hovered, adorned in the light of the early morning sun, peering callously down at the vermin who lay trembling between him and his brothers.

Or what was left of them, at least.

Jungkook had managed to get his hands on the elder one, and the arm he had been using to carry the gun had been ripped clean off.

He was now whimpering in excruciating pain, clutching at the place where his limb had once been.

The younger one, on the other hand, lay resting against a tree.

Unmoving, his eyes unseeing.

All it had taken was one touch from Hoseok, and the man’s life force was gone, sucked out of him before he could even protest.

He was now nothing more than a lifeless sack of meat.

Taehyung picked up the body as Yoongi kicked one of the elder’s legs to get his attention.

The others stood threateningly over Byun, glowering down at him in utter loathe, as though he were a louse.

The old man whimpered, looking up and between them, then paling in horror as he saw Taehyung and Jimin.

The younger brother walked toward the elder as Jimin gently touched down on the ground, your form still protectively pressed to him. The two Kims met eyes and nodded at each other.

Taehyung turned around and flashed Mr. Byun a crazed smile before flinging Lee’s body as far as he could over the cliff.

He gaped in horror and his voice rose multiple decibels, pleads for his life escaping before he could properly think them through.

Seokjin squatted down until he was at an eye level with him, strong, black wings threateningly displayed. He grinned.

“If you think you have even any hope of escaping your friend’s fate,” he said as the smile slipped off his face, “you’re dead wrong.”

He glared at Byun with cold, amber irises. “But before we end your insignificant, paltry life, you’re going to tell us who sent you and why.”

They already had proof of Aemilia’s crime from Aloysius Augustus himself but they wanted to be sure.

He looked at the younger gentlemen with tears in his eyes. He fought through his pain and got on both knees.

“There’s no use in begging,” Namjoon stated, arms crossed over his chest. For the first time, he couldn’t find anything amusing in the matter.

“Please! We were only receiving orders, Miss Augustus--”

Before he could finish his sentence, Yoongi used Lee’s discarded knife and slashed it across Byun’s neck, silencing him in an instant.

The light left his eyes and the man’s body flopped over.

Taehyung didn’t think twice about kicking him off the cliff, either.

Now that those pests were taken care of, the seven rushed to turn their attention on you.

The bleeding from your shoulder and hand had not slowed in the slightest, and they could hardly feel your pulse.

“We need to get her to the hospital, and fast.” Hoseok said, swallowing the rising lump in his throat.

“I’m the fastest. I can take her there.” Taehyung volunteered.

The brothers agreed, and you were gently deposited into Taehyung’s arms.

“When you’re sure she’s safe, meet us back here in the woods,” Yoongi said. “You’ll know where to find us.”

"Yes, hyung.” Taehyung spread his wings and took off into the sky.

He carefully cradled you, shifting your body into one of his arms, and attempted to heal some of your worse injuries along the way.

He pressed one hand to your abdomen and began muttering under his breath, a panicked tear slipping out the corner of his eye as he peered at the extent of the damage.

Once your ribs were mostly healed, he pulled his hand away, leaving behind a canvas of dark blue, yellow, and green bruises. He winced and moved on, pressing his hand to your head.

You made no movements, body as limp as ever in his arms.

Taehyung touched down on the roof of the hospital and tucked those magnificent, black wings together, the appendages fading away as if they were never there.

He held his arm out, his palm facing the door. He only meant to unlock it, but utterly destroyed it in his haste. Quite frankly, he couldn’t have cared less.

He hurriedly walked down the stairwell and burst into the hospital’s eleventh floor lobby, reserved for VIP care and treatment.

A receptionist was working at the front desk, typing away without a care in the world.

He was interrupted by Taehyung’s shouts. “I found her in the woods outside of our home this morning--she’s badly injured, please help!”

He looked up at the boy’s outburst, eyes widening when he realized just who and what he was looking at.

He immediately called for available nurses to bring a bed and admit you to a room, then paged any available doctors.

“Do you know who she is, Mr. Kim?” A nurse asked as she examined you for damage.

He nodded. “She’s a classmate of mine, her name is (Y/N) (L/N). Her mother also works here--please notify her of her daughter’s arrival.”

The man nodded once more, sending someone else to page Nurse (L/N) from the fifth floor.

As the nurses wheeled you away, Taehyung grabbed the receptionist by the wrist and he whipped around in fear.

“This patient is very important,” Taehyung stressed, squeezing the man’s wrist harshly. “She is being admitted under the protection of Kim Moonsik himself, at the behest of our entire family. If anything happens to her...”

The receptionist gulped and nodded. “Of course, Mr. Kim. You don’t need to explain any further. We’ll do our absolute best to ensure her care and recovery.”

Taehyung glared down at him for a bit longer before he threw the man’s wrist aside and turned away from him.

He rubbed at his wrist, knowing it would bruise in a couple of hours, or perhaps even minutes.

The man returned to his desk, beginning to fill out the paperwork for your stay.

When he looked up to ask Taehyung more questions about your injuries, the boy had already disappeared.

——————————————————————

In Taehyung’s absence, the six brothers stretched out their wings and flew to a certain section of the woods behind the Kim family home.

This part of the woods remained untouched by both the Kim family and the general public. It was only the seven who came out here, and only in times of dire consequence.

Several trees in the area had fallen over, cracked in half as though hit or pushed in anger with some spectacular force.

Leaves and branches strewn all over the ground were blown away by the boys and the sudden breeze they brought, large wings disrupting the peaceful quiet of the forest.

The early morning sun peeked through the leaves, painting a picturesque view of the woods, a sharp contrast to the heavy, violent atmosphere headed its way.

Jungkook planted his feet on the ground first, tucking away his wings until they were out of sight. He angrily flicked what was left of Byun off his face, disgusted by the thick feel and metallic smell of mortal blood.

Jimin followed right behind him, then Hoseok, Yoongi, and Seokjin entered, Namjoon being the last to touch down on the forest floor.

Jimin and Jungkook met eyes with one another, their anger not even close to subsiding at the death of your captors.

Yet, soon enough, curiosity and dread brought them out of their rage when they realized just how quiet it had gotten between the older members.

Jimin shifted his gaze, the frown on his face deepening when he saw the eldest brothers’ attention turn to Namjoon, who was standing deathly still, staring blankly ahead.

Seokjin raised an eyebrow as he glared down at the younger. Namjoon refused to meet his gaze.

The six of them stayed like that for a long time, even when they heard the loud beating of another pair of wings, and Taehyung joined them in the forest.

He turned to Jimin in confusion but the older simply shook his head and grabbed for his and Jungkook’s hands, squeezing them.

Finally, after what felt like hours of silence, Seokjin spoke.

“There is no mercy for the prideful,” he stated with finality.

Namjoon flinched away at the words, eyes stuck to the ground.

“You weren’t able to uphold your oath, Namjoon ah,” Hoseok said. His words were concerned, but his tone reeked of condescension.

“And because of that, because of your utter failure, our beloved angel got hurt.” Yoongi hissed. “She almost died.”

Hoseok, Yoongi, and Seokjin took menacing steps toward the leader.

He heard his older brothers walking up to him, but refused to meet the wrath that was surely boiling in their gaze.

Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook watched on with bated breath, their hands still linked together.

Namjoon was frozen in place.

As the leader of their group, there was rarely ever a moment where he was seen as weak.

But the second he had received news of your capture, he lost even the strength to stand on his own two feet.

It was the thought of you, of saving you and bringing you to safety, that had kept him going.

It was the only thing that had kept all seven of them sane.

Now that they knew you were going to live, he knew he couldn’t avoid his punishment any longer.

Namjoon’s facial expression didn’t change, even in the moment where, with surprising speed, Yoongi lashed out at him, decking him in the face and knocking him to the forest floor.

The student body president winced, gingerly gripping his nose as blood started to leak from it.

His older brothers stood, looking down at him in a mock semicircle.

“Yoongi ah,” Seokjin said, turning to the younger, “what is the punishment for those who commit the deadly sin of pride?”

“Being broken on the wheel, hyung.” Yoongi replied impassively.

“Fortunately for you, or unfortunately, I should say,” Hoseok grinned down at Namjoon, “we don’t have a wheel.”

Seokjin stepped forward and lifted his foot above Namjoon’s right leg.

“This is what happens when you place too much pride in yourself and in your actions.” He stated, then brought his foot down on Namjoon’s right leg.

He didn’t let up until there was a sick, audible crack.

Namjoon reeled back, grunting in pain but refusing to scream.

Yes, it hurt, but he knew he deserved it. He failed (Y/N).

This is the least he could do to atone for his actions.

“All things considered, we’re being quite generous with you.” Yoongi stepped up next, kicking his broken leg aside to stomp down on his left one.

This time, Namjoon let out a jarring scream.

“You still have the audacity to scream? To feel pain?” Yoongi ground his foot into the injury as though he were trying to put out a cigarette. “Imagine how much pain our beloved is in right now. Imagine what she wouldn’t have had to go through, had you done your job properly. Had you listened to us.”

The elder had never been kind or considerate when it came to delivering punishment, a fact that the younger brothers had quickly become accustomed to.

Taehyung, Jimin, and Jungkook looked on blankly, but inside they felt a deep sense of pity.

Namjoon was their brother and their leader, the constant face of their strength.

It hurt to see him in so much pain, no matter how necessary it was.

Namjoon sat on the forest floor, both legs twisted at an awkward angle. He grit his teeth together as he tried to control his breathing.

He noticed no one else was approaching him, but he knew that the punishment wasn’t over yet, not so soon. He slowly, inquisitively lifted his head.

The eldest three looked at Namjoon expectedly. He pleadingly raised his eyebrows, but their stares held no mercy.

He bowed his head in defeat.

The senior wrapped his right hand around his left forearm and squeezed until he heard something crack.

There was the quick, soft sound of a sob coming out of his mouth, and then all was quiet.

Hoseok went last, shuffling through the leaves on the forest floor to squat next to his younger brother, wiping away some of his tears and gently running his fingers through his hair. “We’re doing this for her. Everything we do is for her, you know that as well as we do.”

Namjoon glanced at him warily, tense because he knew what was coming next, but didn’t know when to expect it.

“That’s why you’re prepared to face the consequences for your actions, yes...?”

With a sickeningly sweet smile, Hoseok wrapped his hands around Namjoon’s right forearm, breaking the bone in a quick moment.

Namjoon clenched his teeth together so hard, he swore he heard something else crack.

Any movement within the top or lower half of his body left him in excruciating pain, and he stifled a scream each time.

“You did so well, Joonie.” Hoseok continued patting his head.

They surrounded him, praising him with how well he took his punishment.

He was only able to withstand a few more minutes of cognizant thought before his eyes rolled back into his head.

Hoseok caught his younger brother, gently laying him back onto the dirt.

The six men stood in the silence, staring at the form of their treasured leader with pity.

Seokjin turned around and met each of his younger brothers in the eye. He then wordlessly walked away from the clearing and Namjoon’s broken body.

Yoongi and Hoseok followed him, blank expressions on their face.

The youngest brothers were all too quick to pick up on the message.

Overstep your boundaries, and endure the same fate.

After taking one more look at Namjoon, the youngest brothers trekked out of the forest, silently following behind the other angels.

——————————————————————

When you finally pried your eyes open, you were greeted by an unfamiliar chill.

You were cold. So cold, the chill settled uncomfortably in your bones.

White blankets were tucked around you, pristine sheets morphing to mimic your form.

For a moment, you incredulously thought that this must have been your arrival to heaven.

Then, you soon heard a monotonous beeping and you felt the subtle prick of wires along your skin, an IV casually grazing across the back of your hand.

It hurt to move your right shoulder, and your abdomen ached, the areas bandaged so tight you could just barely feel them.

There were bandages around your wrists and hand as well, and the pungent scent of ointment told you those were for your rope burns and bullet graze.

Your head injuries were also wrapped, if you deduced the source of your current headache correctly.

You were alive. Alive, and well taken care of.

“(Y/N)?”

You winced, your head not taking too kindly to the reintroduction of noise. A swivel to your right, however, and your mother’s worried face appeared.

“...Mom?” You voice cracked horribly, and she smiled and hummed in acknowledgement, lifting a water pitcher next to her and pouring you a glass of water.

You drank as if you were Tantalus himself.

“I was so worried.” your mother stated, her voice breaking right along with yours. The sound alone nearly brought tears to your eyes.

She lifted her hands and grasped your uninjured one, intertwining your fingers.

“I got paged yesterday morning and asked to come up to the eleventh floor, just to find out that you had been admitted.” Your mother spoke, answering your questions before you even got the chance to ask. “And at the request of the entire Kim family, no less. Kim Taehyung brought you in himself, claiming you’d been assaulted and found outside their door.”

You tilted your head, peering at your mother in disbelief.

She met your gaze and flicked her eyes toward the door, then back towards you without turning around. You followed their direction.

Outside the small, rectangular window of the door, there stood a tall figure dressed in dark clothing.

Your mother leaned toward you and whispered. “That woman has been standing guard since the doctors finished their checkup.”

You gulped and nodded in understanding.

“(Y/N).” Her tone shifted slightly, still holding concern but taking a solemn turn. “I never ask you questions about how school is and your life is going. We usually leave each other to our own devices, and that’s clearly been a mistake on my part. But I need you to be completely honest with me here.”

��Have you displeased the Kims in any way?” Her grip on your uninjured hand tightened to the point where all of your knuckles turned white. “If they have you here under some sort of watch until the next meeting...if they’re trying to...”

Your mother gulped, unable to finish the rest of the sentence.

Her voice lowered into a harsh whisper. “Tell me. I’ll go alert a trustworthy coworker, and I will have you out of this town before Kim Moonsik can utter another prayer.”

Your eyes widened comically. “Mom, no! Nothing like that happened. They saved me. The Kims saved my life.” You repeated, gripping her hands. “If they hadn’t brought me here, I would have-”

The weight of your words finally hit you, and before you could realize, tears gathered in the corner of your eyes. “I could have...”

You fought to speak through the trembling of your lower lip. “I’m sorry I never told you about my day, I just thought I’d be able to handle it all by myself. The police commissioner’s daughter, she was trying to get rid of me and she-Mom, she-”

Your mother cupped your cheeks as your tears cascaded down your face. She gently rubbed your lower back as you muffled your cries by burying your head into her neck.

She didn’t let you go for a while, even after you managed to collect yourself.

She poured you another glass of water and you sipped at the beverage, telling her the trials you’d faced these past couple of weeks.

“I thought it was a regular instance of bullying,” you sniffled, putting the plastic cup down. “that she didn’t want me getting too close to her crush. So I endured because I had no intention of taking anything of hers away. Who am I, in Ichabod, compared to a woman of prestige like that?” You sarcastically asked.

“But apparently, my mere existence bothered her.” You shakily recounted what had ultimately been the most terrifying moments of your life to your mother.

You obscured some parts of the story, not wanting your mother to worry even more, and claimed that the Augustus’ men had taken you to the clearing to scare you and beat you up, and that you surmised they dropped you off outside of the Kim home afterward.

By the time she finished hearing the whole story, her grip had embedded itself into the edge of the hospital bed.

Your mother’s vexation was interrupted by the sound of people speaking outside your door.

“Ma’am, I apologize. By the order of Kim Moonsik, only family members are allowed to visit the patient right now.” The figure outside your door spoke with an uninterested tone.

“With all due respect, officer, please don’t assume my gender.” You heard a familiar voice snipe. “My best friend is lying in there and she’s practically a sister to me. I don’t particularly give a damn about your order. Kim Moonsik can kiss my-”

“Mana!” You yelled, trying to catch both of their attention before your best friend could get themselves arrested.

You flipped the hospital blankets off of you and your mother helped you to your feet, then to the door. The injuries on your abdomen and head protested with every step.

The guard’s eyes widened a bit as you slid the door open, and so did the eyes of every hospital staff within sight of your room.

“Ms. (L/N), I implore you, please go back to bed to rest!” A nurse in the hallway rushed over.

The guard hastily nodded in agreement. “Yes, please do. I sincerely apologize for the commotion.”

You waved them off, reaching a hand out to Mana. “I'll go back to bed, but only if you let Mana in. They’re family.”

Mana stood in the hallway, hurriedly dressed in sweatpants, a disheveled oversized hoodie, and sneakers, but gingerly holding a teddy bear with a card.

The guard looked between you, Mana, and the nurse for quite some time. The nurse’s frantic expression must have convinced her, though, because she finally stepped aside.

Mana extended their arm, gently grabbing your hand in return and waltzing past the security guard with a smug expression.

The moment the three of you were back in the room, however, they ushered you back to bed as well.

“(N/N)!” Mana said, going to hug you, then rethinking it when they spotted all the bandages.

They placed the teddy bear in your arms and stood a card that cheerily read “Get Well Soon!” on your nightstand. “How are you feeling? I’m so sorry--I should have been there with you!”

“My head and chest hurt, but I’m alright.” You shook your head with a small smile, clutching the doll to your chest. “Don’t apologize, you had no idea this was going to happen. This was all the result of my stupid decision--I was the one who fell into her trap.”

Your mother excused herself, leaving you and Mana alone for a few minutes.

You filled them in on what had happened to you, withholding no details, and their face lit up in anger. “She ordered them to take you to Lorne’s Ledge?! That psychotic cunt! Just wait until I drag her across the square, we’ll see how high and mighty she is then-”

“Mana, calm down.” You smiled, thankful for your friend’s protectiveness, but weary after everything you’d just gone through.

“I never want to stoop to her level,” you admitted, wringing the sheets in your hands.

Your mother gently slid open the door, returning with water and a tray of food for you.

“I think...I’ve had enough of mind games and tricks for a while.” You whispered, then smiled at her as she lay the meal in front of you.

Mana’s gaze turned soft, and they patted your hands and back in support.

“I don’t even want to think of what would have happened if the Kims hadn’t gotten there in time.” your mother muttered.

You nodded in agreement.

You weren’t particularly sure how or why, but the Kims had saved your life.

Not only had they offered you some of the best care in the city, free of charge, but they even stationed people outside your room.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, something told you that holding them with such a mindset would put you exactly where they wanted you to be.

Yet something else countered that thought, claiming that it was that same distancing mindset that had pushed you into the arms of danger in the first place.

Perhaps Mayor Kim felt responsible for it because his men got usurped by a high school girl.

Or, perhaps, it was his sons who felt even more responsible.

Your mother and Mana stayed with you the rest of the night, each taking up their own positions on the furniture. Mana draped themself on the couch while your mother took the armchair.

You allowed yourself to drift off to the sound of them breathing, the chill and fear of the previous morning now a distant, foreign thing.

——————————————————————

Your mother and Mana weren’t constantly at your side, as one had to attend to her duties at work and the other had to go to school.

There were other individuals who were perfectly happy to waste the day with you, though.

On the first day, you were visited by Jimin.

The sophomore’s usual high-energy self was nowhere to be seen as he stepped into your hospital room holding a small bouquet of (your favorite flowers).

Jimin rushed at you, barely giving himself enough time to greet him before he fell to his knees in front of your hospital bed.

You gasped aloud in surprise and urged him to stand, but he would have none of it.

“I’m so sorry, (Y/N).” His eyes glistened as water streaked down his cherubic face. “If I had read your message earlier, if I hadn’t been so stupid to turn my phone off, you never would have gotten hurt like this.”

You winced as you pulled yourself to the edge of the bed, your hand only hurting slightly less than it had before. “You didn’t know at the time, I wouldn’t blame you for that. When you did know, you rushed to help me. That’s something I will be forever grateful to you for.”

You exhaled and smiled your rare, genuine smile, a warm countenance on your face that pierced Jimin’s soul. “So please,” you held your hand out to Jimin.

The boy looked up, pitiful expression morphing into a delighted smile. He gently took your hand and stood, then ushered you to rest comfortably back at the top of the bed.

The two of you spent the rest of the day talking, Jimin distracting you from your current situation with stories about his family and their travels.

By the time you realized you’d never gotten answers to your questions, the sun was starting to set and you were having trouble keeping your eyes open in the middle of Jimin’s conversation.

If the raven haired boy had noticed it, he didn’t say anything.

If anything, he continued speaking, his voice low and chiming with laughter as he recounted precious memories.

When he heard the familiar sound of your soft, slow breathing, he stopped. He simply gazed upon your visage, smiling at the way your (s/c) skin lit up in the afternoon sun and held a hand up to block the light from getting in your eyes.

He stayed that way for the next several minutes, then gently caressed your cheek, letting his hands linger for shorter than he would have liked.

Once the night was well underway, Jimin collected his things and left your side with one more forlorn look.

He shot a strict gaze at the guard, who gulped and nodded at the unspoken order.

Finally, he turned and walked down the hallway toward the elevators.

——————————————————————

On the second day, you were visited by Taehyung. You were still asleep when he first came into the room, but your mother was sitting beside you and her eyes widened when she saw him.

Before the younger boy could even speak, the older woman bowed low in gratitude.

Few people had ever seen your mother in a vulnerable state, you included, as she purposefully made it so.

Taehyung was a rare exception that day as he gently gripped her shoulders, feeling the slight trembles that coursed through her as he straightened her posture.

Suppressing an amused smile, Taehyung thought of the differences between you and his supposed mother.

While the actress trembled out of fear for her own life, your mother shook at the thought of losing you.

As expected from the woman who raised you, their perfect treasure.

“I can never repay you for the hospitality you’ve shown my daughter,” your mother whispered.

“There’s no need for such matters, Ms. (L/N). We’ll always protect and watch out for your daughter. We’re honored to have her in our lives.” Taehyung replied with a sincere tone.

She accepted the flowers he brought, carefully laying the bouquet on your nightstand, right next to the vase where Jimin’s flowers lay.

When you did wake up, you had your own chance to thank Taehyung for finding you and bringing you to safety, along with sponsoring your stay in the hospital.

He waved away your thanks, claiming that he was simply glad that you had turned to Jimin for assistance so that they were able to know about it.

“You know we’ll always be there for you, right (Y/N)?”

Always.

“Just say the word and we’ll come running.”

We love you.

His heart ached with the weight of the words he couldn’t say.

But you smiled in appreciation and he melted, as it was the smile they had longed to see for so long. The one that you usually reserved for your mother or Mana, the one that they had only gotten glimpses of in the time that they had known you.

He wouldn’t let you do anything for yourself the entire time, claiming you needed to rest up and heal as soon as possible. You reluctantly agreed, enjoying an unusually lazy day.

He played music for you, and soon enough the two of you were lost in a passionate conversation about your favorite artists. Funnily enough, there were several of them who you shared interest in.

Before Taehyung returned home for the day, he insisted on covering you with the blanket as well, tucking it up to your neck and pressing it in at the sides.

Your eyes were closed out of embarrassment as his form hung over yours.

He fought the urge to bend down and kiss your forehead, for he still feared that he could frighten you away.

Instead, he reached up and switched off the light directly above your bed. With an ambiguous smile, he left, closing the door behind him.

——————————————————————

On the third day, you were visited by Jungkook.

The atmosphere was a little awkward at first, considering how soft-spoken the freshman tended to be around you.

When you tried shifting the conversation by asking him about his personal interests and passions, however, his eyes lit up.

Jungkook demonstrated several different types of punches for you in the room, even helping you weakly set up your form with your still healing hands.

You learned much more about boxing forms and gaming techniques that day than you could ever remember, but you did leave with plans to have private self-defense lessons with Jungkook after you’d finished healing.

At some point during his visit, you had drifted off and by the time you woke up again, Jungkook was already gone.

You panicked slightly, worried that he’d be upset and think that you wanted him to leave. As you turned to your phone, however, you noticed a folded piece of paper resting on top of the back of it.

When you opened the paper, you saw a beautiful pen-and-ink sketch of you, lying in your hospital bed and napping.

Jungkook had somehow taken your messy, disheveled state and turned it into something that evoked a tender feeling within you.

You grinned down at the paper, amazed by his talent. Was this how he saw you? As this...ephemeral, peaceful being?

You gently stood the paper up so that it rested between the two vases that housed Jimin and Taehyung’s flowers, right next to Mana’s card.

The afternoon soon gave way to evening, then evening to night.

——————————————————————

On the fourth day, Seokjin saved you from the monotony of bland, hospital food by bringing you home cooked meals.

The mere smell of the dishes had your mouth watering.

He refused to let you do anything yourself, much like Taehyung had the other day. But unlike Taehyung, Jin went so far as to feed you himself.

It was embarrassing, but no matter how much you protested, he wouldn’t let up.

He sat in the chair your mother usually preoccupied and held the utensils out to you, neatly making sure you finished your meals.

At one point, he pretended the food was an airplane and you playfully slapped his arm, resulting in him dissolving into a surprising windshield-wiper-like laugh.

Jin spent the rest of the day with you, telling you awful jokes that under normal circumstances, you wouldn’t have found that funny.

His companionship was greatly appreciated, however, and you found that you grew surprisingly fond of his laugh.

Before Jin left for the evening, he gently lifted your hand and placed it in his lap, then revealed another bag he’d brought on his visit.

To your surprise, he clipped a small (silver/gold/rose gold) bracelet around your wrist. The ornament carried two charms: one of a well-detailed moon, the other a pair of angel wings.

You rushed to have him take the bracelet off, hesitant to accept such a valuable gift.

Yet the look in his eyes pierced right through you, his previous joy still present and glimmering but hidden beneath the depths of something more sinister.

You leaned against your pillows as Jin gently lifted the back of your hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to it, just like he had the first night you met.

“The moment I saw it, I thought of you.” He smiled, affectionately rubbing his thumb over your wrist. “Keep it. For me?”

It wasn’t a request.

——————————————————————

On the fifth day, you were visited by Hoseok and Yoongi.

You were slightly surprised at the fact that they had come together, as their outer attitudes seemed to be opposites, but you found that they complemented each other very well.

They were extremely considerate of you, allowing you to do things for yourself but offering their assistance should you need it.

Hoseok spent the day cheering you up by performing routines for you in the little space the room provided.

As strict as he was infamous for being, Hoseok clearly knew his craft. You were mesmerized by his movements and insisted on clapping for each of his performances, your hand healing quite nicely now.

Yoongi delighted you with tales of his rambunctious actions in high school, and some of the best well-kept faculty secrets.

There were several things you learned about Ms. Divii and Mrs. Hargrove that day that you would have been perfectly happy not knowing for the rest of your life, but you giggled and gossiped all the same.

It appeared as though the elder Kim brothers had a similar thought process, as Hoseok and Yoongi each gifted you (silver/gold/rose gold) jewelry similar to what you had received the day prior.

Hoseok looked as though we was going to cry when you went to turn down his gift.

One sharp look from Yoongi later, you closed your mouth, smiled, and expressed your thanks.

Hoseok fondly clipped the necklace onto you, his heart performing somersaults as you leaned into his embrace.

He silently gulped, overcome by the sudden desire to press his lips to your neck.

When he made eye contact with Yoongi over your shoulder, his face reddened slightly as the elder smirked at him.

He reigned in the perceptible want in his eyes and leaned back, flashing you his signature smile. “There you are, angel. Pretty as a picture.”

You lowered your head to hide your flush. “You guys really don’t have to bring me these gifts,” you murmured lightly.

“With a visage as perfect as yours, we simply can’t help ourselves.” Yoongi stated in reply, lifting your ring finger to slide a band onto it.

How unfortunate it was that it was the right hand instead of the left.

He was able to hide his disappointment from you, but not from Hoseok.

Nevertheless, there would surely be an opportunity in the near future.

How else would all of those worthless people know that you belonged to them?

——————————————————————

On the sixth day, Namjoon limped his way into your hospital room, a grimace on his face.

You greeted him with a warm smile that quickly shifted into a worried expression. “Oh goodness, are you alright?”

Namjoon nodded, taking the seat next to your bed. “I injured my leg, it’s nothing serious. I should be perfectly alright soon.”

Seokjin had been kind enough to heal most of his limbs, the elder worried about your reaction to seeing him in such a state.

They purposefully made him wait in agonizing pain for nearly a week, however, to rub the punishment in, before clearing him to go visit you.

It seemed as though the student body president had lost his usual self-assured, constantly amused atmosphere. He was strangely quiet, and his body language was similar to that of a man who’d been beaten into submission.

That was far from the Kim Namjoon you knew.

For several moments, the two of you sat in awkward silence.

The two of you hadn’t been on the best of terms the last time you spoke. Just thinking back to that moment when he’d felt like he was on top of the world, completely in control, made him cringe.

Then, you turned and smiled at him. “You know, if you really need to, you could always join me as a patient. It’d definitely make the days less boring.”

Namjoon knew you knew there was a change in his attitude, and rather than lording that over him, you simply welcomed him as you usually did.

“I’m so sorry, (Y/N).” The words blurt out before he could stop them.

You shook your head, slightly amused. “What’s with you and Jimin these days? You don’t need to apologize for saving me. Unless you want to, and, well, that’s a completely separate manner--”

“No!” Namjoon lifted his hands up and waved them around. “I just-"

You smiled, entertained by the frantic side of the normally suave, composed teen. “Think nothing of it, Namjoon. You have nothing you need to apologize to me for.”

Your expression darkened slightly as you continued. “If anything, I should apologize for not trusting you all more.”

Namjoon’s lips quivered, desperately wanting to form a victorious smirk, but he settled for an understanding smile.

In the end, he’d been right.

As usual.

“Who remains close to you, who you decide to trust, that’s completely your decision. You should never have to apologize for it.” Namjoon said.

You smiled in acknowledgement, then furrowed your brows in confusion when Namjoon started to dig around in his bag.

“I heard we were gift giving this week.” He pulled out a beautiful, leather bound journal and fountain pen and carefully placed the items on your lap.

“This is absolutely gorgeous. How did you know I like writing?” You smiled.

Of course he knew. He knew everything about you.

“I didn’t,” he replied, shrugging with a small smile. “I like to write in journals as a form of catharsis, and thought you might want to try.”

“Thank you so much.” You lifted an arm up and gestured for a one armed hug, one that Namjoon happily accepted.

Clutching the journal to your chest, you gathered the courage to ask him the question that had been running around in your head the past week.

“Namjoon?”

“Yes?”

“How did you guys find me in time?”

The elder clenched his jaw and shifted his gaze aside as if he couldn’t beat to direct his apparent anger and frustration toward you.

“We heard from Jimin that Aemilia took you and interrogated the police commissioner about any of our private guard’s movements. He fessed and told us that Aemilia told him that I texted her, claiming that there was another soul in need of punishment.”

Namjoon grit his teeth, vexation rolling off of him in waves as he practically hissed out his words. “He authorized members of our private force to move under her order in order to subdue you.”

Recounting the ridiculous lie that the redhead told her father, and the father’s idiotic tendency to believe her, made his blood hot.

“After we heard that, we rushed to all the places in the forest that the Augustus men might have taken you. Thankfully, we got to Lorne’s Ledge in time and Jimin was able to save you before you could fall off the edge.”

“Are you sure?” You said. “I could have sworn I stepped off...I thought I was a goner.”

Namjoon shook his head. “We definitely got there in time to save you. You sustained several head injuries, so I’d understand if you didn’t see Jimin or blacked out.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, pondering his response for several moments before nodding at his answer.

There was no way you would ever be able to forget what happened that night.

You knew for a fact that your feet had left the ledge.

But he was right, you did take several nasty hits from Byun and Lee.

You wanted to keep asking him questions, but the pained, forced look in his eye made you pause on that front.

Perhaps that projection you saw of your mother had actually been Jimin.

You wrung your hands together.

“What matters now is that you’re safe and sound.” Namjoon gently placed his hand atop yours and gave it a supporting squeeze. “All you need to focus on is getting better. We definitely won’t let them get away with this.”

You nodded again, smiling slightly at Namjoon in thanks for his concern.

——————————————————————

Halfway across town, Aemilia Augustus paced around in her room, practically biting off her perfectly manicured nails in worry.

It had been seven days.

Seven days of nothing.

Not a single word had come in from Byun or Lee.

When she arrived at school that first day and heard everyone talking about your absence, she felt pure and utter bliss.

There was no joy like the joy she felt in that moment.

Such euphoria simply couldn’t be replaced.

The only moments that could possibly top it were her future engagement with Kim Namjoon, or the day she would take over her family business.

Because so many days went by without a single peep at your face, she thought her plan was working.

She felt on top of the world.

But Byun and Lee were two of the most promising soldiers on the squad. There was no reason as to why they were taking so long to get back to her to confirm your measly little death.

As a result, she was starting to panic.

Of course, she had an emergency plan.

She had no need for it, as there was no way her plan could go wrong, but she always had to be prepared, after all.

Just as she was about to take deep breaths to calm herself down, she jumped at the sound of pounding footsteps and yelps drifting into her room from downstairs.

She heard the annoying cry of her mother and father, and then the sound of several people talking.

A grim chill fell over her.

Unexpectedly, her plan had gone horribly, horribly wrong.

There wasn’t much time left now, as she could hear the footsteps get closer and closer.

To hell with her parents--their capture was inevitable.

Aemilia Augustus would not be captured like a criminal, not as long as she was alive and well.

Aemilia padded over to her bedroom door, shutting it closed as softly as possible and smacking the lights off.

She dove into her walk-in closet and squeezed herself as tightly as possible into a corner, a rack of evening gowns and day dresses covering her.

Every couple of minutes, a door would slam open and she listened, holding a hand over her mouth as the pounding feet searched every room on her floor.

It didn’t take them long to arrive at her room, and she shook as she heard them throw things around.

A rectangle of light shone into the room as someone opened the closet door and Aemilia stilled as though she were encased in ice.

It was silent for a long, dreadful moment. The officer turned their head this way and that, walking into the room and turning on the light to search.

From where Aemilia was hidden, there was no way they would be able to find her. She thanked Wylynne that she hadn’t taken up on her mother’s offer to hire a maid to clean her closet.

The officer turned away to leave and Aemilia cheered in her heart.

After the guards left the premises, she would collect as many valuables as possible from the house and run off to her family’s private home in another part of town. From there, she would plan what to do next.

Her plan wasn’t perfect, but she would be able to get away with it.

Or at least, she thought she would.

Just as the officer was about to close the door, a strong, invisible force yanked Aemilia out from her hiding spot and she came crashing down noisily from behind the evening gowns, taking a few with her.

The officer immediately turned around, beckoning his partner to get her.

She hurriedly gripped a platform heel and attempted to plunge it in the man’s eye, but he caught her wrist and painfully twisted her arm behind her back.

The redhead screeched in fury and pain. His partner soon joined him, and they dragged her out into her room, each officer tightly holding on to one of her arms.

“What are you doing? Unhand me this instant!” She shrieked, writhing around in an attempt to escape. “Have you forgotten who you take orders from?!”

“No, but it seems as though you have.”

She paused at the sound of that familiar voice.

Her beloved casually strode into the room in all of his glory, his head held high, that ever present cocky, amused smile that she loved so much on his face.

“Namjoon.” She whimpered. “Namjoon, they’re hurting me.”

The student body president kneeled down in front of her and gently took her chin in his hands.

Her eyes filled with tears and she stuck out her bottom lip, waiting for Namjoon to tell the men to let her go. They better anticipate the earful they were about to receive. How dare they treat their future queen this way?

Namjoon lovingly stroked her cheek with his thumb, wiping away her tear. She nuzzled her cheek into his hand, looking up at him with a pitiful gaze. He smiled at her.

Surely he would save her.

Aemilia closed her eyes, suppressing a victorious smile as she felt Namjoon pull his hand away from her face.

But rather than the sound of him barking orders, she was met with the sound of a harsh slap.

Her eyes flew open in shock.

Her face stung.

“Nam..joon...?” She whispered, stupefied.

The senior was sneering down at her, pulling a handkerchief out the square pocket of his jacket and wiping his hand on it.

“What disgusting thoughts you have,” the man spat, dropping the handkerchief in another subordinate’s hand.

“Burn that.” He commanded.

Aemilia simply stared up at him in disbelief.

Had he...hit her?

“Namjoon, why are you doing this?” Her voice trembled. “You’d never hit me, you’re my...we’re-”

“Nothing.” Namjoon interrupted with a disinterested gaze. “I am not your anything. I’ve never given you any inclination that could lead you to assume that I loved you, or liked you, or cared for you in the slightest.”

Aemilia dropped to her knees in incredulity.

“That’s not true! You cared for me, I know you did! Ever since that (h/c) haired bitch appeared, you’ve turned away from me!” She screeched, her shrill voice piercing their ears. “I should’ve gotten rid of her sooner!”

As soon as the words left her mouth, all the air in Aemilia’s lungs disappeared. She heaved her chest, trying to breath, but found herself unable to.

He squatted down to face her.

“Let’s get one thing absolutely clear.” Namjoon spoke in a frighteningly low tone. “I never cared for you. You were nothing more than a useful little pawn in my game. A pawn who somehow tricked herself into believing she could become a queen.”

Her face turned redder and redder from anger, embarrassment, and the lack of oxygen.

“(Y/N) is more of a queen than you could ever be,” Namjoon stated, smiling at the memory of you sitting up in your hospital bed, grinning at him, the sun forming a halo behind your head. “She’s an angel. Our precious everything.”

He turned his gaze back to the creature before him. “She isn’t someone the likes of you can ever attempt to touch, much less harm or overthrow.”

Namjoon straightened, moving to walk towards the entrance to her room. “That’s my fault, I’m afraid. After all, I wasn’t able to properly regulate my inferiors.”

Black dots swam at the edge of Aemilia’s vision. She kept her eyes locked on Namjoon, still praying that this was all a prank or a joke, and that he would comfort her by sweeping her up into his arms.

“You truly have no idea what’s going to happen to you, do you?” He chuckled with a mirthless smile. “Don’t worry. We’ll fix that soon enough.”

Finally, her body gave in and shut down from the lack of oxygen. The redhead flopped over on her side, Namjoon’s cruel glare burned into the backs of her eyes.

——————————————————————

On the morning of the seventh day, you took advantage of your solitude by pondering the events of this week and the rather complicated emotions that came with them.

Despite their reputation and despite your fears, you had grown closer to the Kims over the past month.

They never threatened or harmed you or the people you cared about. They had welcomed you into their lives with open arms.

You had kept them at an arms length in an effort to protect yourself and your loved ones. But what had distancing yourself from them gained you?

Still, there was no way your method could be wrong. It was your livelihood, your path to survival in Ichabod.

There were rules here, rules that couldn’t be broken.

Yet the majority of those rules had been broken the moment you invited Jimin to sit with you at lunch.

Was it even possible that an alternative path to salvation freedom existed?

Had the Kims truly provided another way?

Your mother went around the room collecting and packing up your things for you as Mana helped you change in the bathroom, making sure to be careful of your still-healing shoulder.

When they left to fetch your discharge papers, you sat at the edge of the hospital bed and deliberated what could potentially be one of the most important decisions of your life.——————————————————————

i am so, so, so sorry for taking longer than usual to post! college and midterm season caught up with me--i’ll try not to let assignments interfere with my writing schedule in the future ;-;-; thank you so much for sticking with me through the wait! the long awaited day has finally come! revenge has never been so sweet hehe. also, the way that i have no idea how to write fight scenes--pfft. i hope you all enjoy the chapter <33

~taglist~

@melaninkpops @loserwithapen @hellaspookystudent @ecillartto @omgsuperstarg @ace-angel-judas @jjamsbangtan @lovinggalaxies @lovesick-heart0 @ksxmpoison @girlmeetsliv3 @thedarkwinterrose @purpuravm @oneweirdbean @hopelessfountainjoonie @mazmaz30 @enigmaticlove-03 @uppiespuppy @queenceline22 @kokofikats @taeyohonic @creatorspalace @supertweetycherry @anachikartadze @itsfeliciatime

#yandere x reader #yandere bts x reader #yandere jung hoseok #Yandere jeon jungkook #yandere kim namjoon #yandere kim seokjin #yandere kim taehyung #yandere park jimin #yandere min yoongi #yandere bts au #high school au #bts cult au #supernatural creature au

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pan-ick · 4 years ago

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Golden Child Pt. 1

I literally can't remember where I found it but I read a headcannon for an angsty SBI +Reader and I loved it so much that I had to write something similar to it but I think I might have forgotten to like it, so if you know what the original is please tell me so I can credit them I was partially inspired by@helliontherapscallion's "Adrenaline Junkie" series, simply for the fact that because of them i haven't stopped thinking of inventor reader. Also let's just pretend that uh my human biology degree isn't going to waste by me writing blindness incorrectly ha ha. This is a purely fictional way that blindness works.

(REMINDER YOU IDIOT, FOR THE PURPOSES OF THIS STORY: Wilbur is 26, Techno is 20, Tommy is 16, Phil is 32, SO READER IS 22, GET IT RIGHT AND STOP MESSING UP)

As soon as Y/N's wings started developing, they were instantly the favorite child. Philza still showed his love to Wilbur, but nowhere near as much as he did to his winged child. If he had to choose between spending time with them or Wilbur, he'd pick them in a heartbeat. Wilbur was usually upset when this happened, but he had gotten used to it and had learned ways to cope with it.

This was until Techno showed up. On their doorstep. Next to a freezing Philza who had sacrificed most his warmth to the young piglin. Wilbur had his thoughts on this, yhough he kept them to himself. But Y/N couldn't be happier! This meant a new friend, AND they were right when they said that Phil was just a nice person, there wasn't a favorite child! Right?

They quickly realized that Techno wasn't their friend, as the first interaction they had together was them getting a claw to the face by the piglin. Philza just simply sighed and made sure the wound would stop bleeding before tending back to the scared pig.

Y/N was only eight at the time, they didn't know what they were feeling. But whatever it was didn't feel good.

Since that day, Y/N was the new Wilbur and 'Technoblade' was the golden child. Y/N wanted the spotlight back, so they tried hard at everything. Nothing ever worked. Nothing was better than what Techno could do. Nothing was more amazing than Techno's knowledge, or his skills in fighting, or his odd way of speaking, or those stupid things that he did, or the fact that he'd always blame it on some 'voices' in his head. That he had a God complex. That he was better than Wilbur. He was better than Tommy. He was better than you...

He was always better than you. Of course. Thats what you felt when you first met. Not amazement, not the happiness of having another friend. Of course not. It was overwhelming jealousy. But he was your brother, so you had to suck it up just like Wilbur did.

But soon enough, they came to peace with this. They moved on and worked on what they actually enjoyed, not what Philza enjoyed. Mechanics. Phil would have killed you if he learned of all the dangers that you put yourself through to consider yourself an inventor. Or.... Would he?

One day your older brother approached you with his idea to create "L'manburg". At first you couldn't help but laugh. But when it was realized that Wilbur wasn't joking and that he had already recruited Tommy, they agreed to join the fight for freedom. It was a way to pay Wilbur back for being there for them, afterall.

Y/N never imagined the true horrors that they would have to go through so they could say a 'thank you' to Wilbur. They never even truly said it to him, L'manburg was already exploded and he was killed before they could say it to him. Not even saying it to Ghostbur was good enough.

Y/N was forced to suffer through watching her loved ones go mad. Sometimes, they would try coming up with inventions that could help her friends out, and some that could help some regular problems in the world for other people. Most of them didn't work, they were only able to produce goggles that could just barely help fully blind people see. But it was a step in the right direction.

Then doomsday came. Y/N didn't want to be part of it, they didn't want to even try hurting their father and younger brother. They aren't even sure how they came to that point.

Before they knew it, they were begging the man who once gave them anything in the world for him to stop. The whole server was one big family especially everyone in the homes he was about to destroy. But what they wanted didn't matter anymore. It's what Technoblade wanted, and he wanted blood.

At the last moment, Y/N remembered Friend. Ghostbur would be devastated if Friend died.

Falling down to the ground from the small warning of TNT, Friend flooded their mind.

If they couldn't save L'Manburg, they needed to save Friend. Ghostbur wasn't the same, but Ghostbur is Wilbur. They still never said thank you. They have to show their gratitude through the miracle of Friend surviving.

And so that's what they set off to do. With no mind to their own self-preservation, Y/N got up and flew as fast as they could to save Friend. But before they could reach the sheep, a large pile of rubble fell on one of their wings, almost snapping it right off. Y/N tried to get it off but to no avail, and their whole body wasn't safe. As they saw more rubble they crouched down while covering their head with their hands and covering the undamaged wing with their body, they prepared for impact.

The last thing they could speak out was almost incomprehensible.

"Wil..... Will...... Ghosbu.............. Tommy.......... Dad............."

And then everything went black. Y/N couldn't see or feel anything. Not even after her youngest brother, the ghost of her older brother, and the three fiances of the SMP untrapped them. There was nothing.

After what felt like years for the brothers, there was finally a glimpse of Y/N waking up. But they continued to drift in and out of consciousness and whenever someone tried communicating they were completely unresponsive.

During this amount of time, it was agreed that it was in their best interest for their wings to be removed. They were both utterly useless now after being crushed and would just be extra weight with unnecessary pain that can be avoided the sooner their wings get removed. Just in case Y/N was still aware of everything going on, they were put under amnesia to lower the chance of them feeling the agony of a wing removal surgery.

Slowly Y/N began more responsive to people, but never to the same amount. Everyone that took care of them were absolutely heartbroken when they figured out part of the rock that fell on them damaged a vital organ that allowed a person to see. Luck was in fact on their side for damaging their eyesight instead of the brain, however most people didn't see it that way.

Ghostbur took it upon himself to become Y/N's seeing-eye dog. He missed having Friend nearby and Y/N was the thing he connected to the most after Friend's death.

After a few months of trying to get used to no longer having sight or wings Y/N was finally allowed back in their lab with a large amount of supervision from Ghostbur. While carefully running their hands across some unfinished inventions, Y/N comes across the goggles that they made at least a year ago. It immediately smarked a memory deep within their brain, the closest thing they had felt to seeing something ever since doomsday.

"Ghostbur, what color are these?" "Oh, they're blue. Blue's a really nice color, it reminds me of Friend. Do you remember Frien- Why are you looking down at those like that? Would you like some blue, it takes your sadness away! Wait dont put them on, the glass has cracks!" Y/N snickers as the ghost tries to take them away from them without being super forceful, "I'm already blind, what's the worst it can do?"

"Dont say that!" Ghostbur gasps, "We will find a way to get your vision back, those goggles might make it impossible!"

"I made these around the time you first showed up. I ran multiple tests with them and I was able to help a blind person see the world again. Sure, it was very blurry, hard to distinguish a lot of colors from each other, we have a different kind of blindness, and its been more that a year since I last tested them, but they might still work." Y/N explains, then they turn their back to Ghostbur and put the goggles on. This time, Ghostbut only makes a sound in protest.

Blinking, Y/N could feel the stimulation in their brain that they lost along with their eyesight come back. They moved their hands from the position they were in to put the invention on to Y/N's line of sight, and they could see their hands again. Fuzzy, shapeless, hands with a few bandaids and many scars on them.

"So, are they working?"

The voice of your brother brings Y/N back to reality and they turn to look at him. They had completely forgotten what Ghostbur looked like, only remembering vaguely what child Wilbur looked liked and a brief description of how Ghostbur's appearance differed for Wilbur's.

Y/N wraps their arms around the Ghost, not actually hugging but just doing the motion to where they would hug a person they could actually touch, as they tried to not cry in front of him.

(WOOOOOO THIS ENDED UP A LOT LONGER THAN I EXPECTED AND I'M NOT EVEN DONE YET, SO I SEPARATED IT INTO TWO PARTS)

#sbi family dynamic #sbi x reader #slight angst #gn reader #gender neutral y/n

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ripcrispyblonde · 2 years ago

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**partially adapted from lore, subject to change and growth* This information applies to verses In On The Ruse & Those Angel Eyes

Born a seraphim in the ranks of Zachariah and Castiel, Semyaza was not one to mess with in her time as a loyal soldier. However, she grew increasingly irritated with her father and how her siblings blindly follow some of his questionable actions. Eventually, she fell from Heaven due to her fraternization with humanity. She gathered a band of fallen angels and they called the Watchers. Azza's fall from grace only increased her fascination with humans and procreation and she convinced the other angels in her following to procreate with humans. Many nephilim were born, especially under the male vessels that Semyaza plowed through. In addition to this, she taught the nephilim and humanity alike the art of war, ready to watch chaos unfold across her father's supposed most sacred creation.

The widespread destruction of the unbridled nephilim, along with the humans becoming increasingly more inclined to start wars angered God. Azza’s sons Hiwa and Hiya were known to each consume thousands of animals every day. To put an end to all of this, God ordered Gabriel to spark a civil war among the nephilim to ensure destruction of the species without God or his angels having to get their hands dirty. Michael is tasked with making sure each of the angels in The Watchers met their own judgment day, after seeing their sons and daughters slain. The Watchers were all sentenced to being torture in Hellfire.

Any angel that sought to help them escape or evade was threatened with the same fate. However, Gabriel, felt partial to Azza and warned her of the incoming punishment under the stipulation that she better behave because he would not risk himself for her again. With a bit of help, Azza was able to fake her own death and escape, evading God and her siblings’ watchful eyes. After the nephilim were all dead and the angels were cast out, God created the Great Flood to wipe out all humans that had been tainted by The Watchers. Afraid to procreate once more and draw attention to herself, Azza took residence in a woman vessel so she could continue to play among the humans, under her own assumption that a female vessel could not fall pregnant.

Semyaza eventually was able to reunite with former co-leader of The Watchers, Azazel, who was now a Knight of Hell along with the other members of The Watchers from their penance in Hell. She became instrumental in his plan to get Sam Winchester back into hunting and off of the soft path he had chosen for himself. At this point, Azza had been inside the same female vessel for millennia, so letting her go proved to be a bit more difficult than she had assumed. Jessica Moore, however, was a rather devout Catholic, and said yes without too much convincing that an angel needed her help on God's orders. However, somewhere along the way of getting Sam to fall in love with the girl, the fallen angel grew to care for the boy, given how much love and affection poured out of him for her mortal alias Jessica Moore. Such softness was something she had never experienced in all of her years among the mortals.

She almost backed out of the plan altogether because she couldn't bring herself to hurt Sam in such a way, even though she could see there wasn't a way out of the mess she'd made. Brady, however, nearly torched her wings as he forced her to continue along with the plan. Heartbroken herself, Semyaza tried to move on while keeping Jessica Moore as a vessel, with darkly died hair in hopes of evading any sort of recognition. Often, she checked in on Sam and is likely responsible for at least a couple of his moments of unexplained luck. She is always careful to keep herself in the shadows and stopped checking in when Castiel and the others showed their interest in Sam, afraid of what Heaven may do to her evading her punishment after all of these years. Azza also wants Sam to live with his happy memories of his time with Jessica Moore, but perhaps selfishly, does not want to watch his face twist in hate and disgust for her.

#╰––– »「 ✞ 」 𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘀𝗲 𝗶𝗻𝗳𝗼. ┊ in on the ruse #╰––– »「 ✞ 」 𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘀𝗲 𝗶𝗻𝗳𝗼. ┊ those angel eyes #╰» 「 ✞ 」 𝗵𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗰𝗮𝗻𝗼𝗻. ┊ is it me? am i the drama?

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aquilaofarkham · 4 years ago

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title: mishpachah rating: T+ word count: 3,085 summary: Five years after rebuilding the manor—and the birth of a new Belmont into the world—Trevor decides to share an old recipe with his newfound family.

For @fibulaa 💛 Thanks so much for commissioning me!

READ HERE

The first bread Trevor Belmont ate while living his newly orphaned vagabond life was so dry it cut at the inner walls of his throat. He swallowed each bite with grimace after grimace, knowing that despite the pain, the already hardened child of thirteen could stave off starvation for a little while longer. Until he tasted the faintest tinge of copper on his ruined tongue.

Putting those years far behind, he now stands in front of a wooden counter, blurry eyed and with a yawn reminiscent of a sun drunk cat. It seems clean at first glance but in every corner Trevor notices fragments of past meals which he tried wiping away once they were finished and placed on a more pristine table meant for family. Bits of salt, half minced vegetables, and crumbs of bread much softer than the ones belonging to a later childhood he would rather forget. This kitchen, warm in its early morning sunlight, was the final instalment of the manor, newly risen from the ashes. Or rather, simply rebuilt thanks to the calloused, blistered, and splintered hands. No more ruined stone, no more fire blackened beams holding together little less than an architectural skeleton. The somewhat mirror image of Trevor’s lost home has been faring better than the castle. Too many memories, fresh, ranging from bitter to incomprehensible.

Slowly, he grows conscious of his surroundings and his own self. A continuing habit of being the first to wake not just in this manor hold but in life. Reluctantly opening his eyes prior to dawn covering the landscape while still traveling alone only to drag a pair of worn boots back along a similar muddy road. Trevor never wanted to wake up before the sun. He just couldn’t bear to stay in the same place for much longer whether due to the laundry list of dangers or more often than not, his newfound hatred of whichever backwater hamlet he unfortunately found himself in.

He’s happy to wake up early. Happy to never feel a need to leave or escape, happy to know that lack of food replaced with pints of liquid pleasure mixed with death will never plague him again. Happy to prepare breakfast in a hot iron pot over a well stoked fire. What he thought he lost forever has come back, along with new additions to the family he’s carved out.

Another presence bounds her way into the kitchen and ambushes Trevor from behind. He’s not old—not yet, he’ll give it time—but years of drinking have made their permanent stay, dulling the more acute senses. Makes it easier for a five-year-old to catch him off guard. Trevor’s eyes bolt open as tiny arms hold him in a tight cage.

“Good morning, papa!”

His ears ring at the sound of Mirele’s loud voice, but at least he won’t have to worry about nodding off. He stares down at the youngest Belmont who looks as though someone had split Trevor and Sypha straight down their centres into four pieces and sewed each differing half onto the other in order to create a new person. A homunculi of messy dark chocolate hair, bright eyes shining with blue ice, full rosy cheeks somehow conspicuously smeared with some sort of dirt or jam, and enough energy to wear out an electric powered jackrabbit.

“How’s my little monster doing this morning?” Everything Trevor says is laced with his own personal touch of affection and Mirele loves it.

“Mama and papa are still asleep. Help me wake them up! Pleaseeee?”

This doesn’t surprise him; Sypha has always preferred to savour her last moments of sleep longer than normal and Alucard is… well, Alucard.

“Tell you what.” Trevor places a lid onto the simmering pot with a heavy clank. “While this heats up for our breakfast, we’ll go wake up those lazy bones.”

“Right!” Hand in smaller hand, the two make their way upstairs into the shadowy master bedchamber. Curtains drawn with only a sliver of light cutting its singular path across the floor and over two distinct lumps covered by blankets and furs. They seem conjoined, linked in each other’s arms, unaware that a third party has been missing for long enough. Mirele plunges into the room first, jumping onto the bed as all children do when parents refuse to join the land of the conscious. She playfully shoves and cuddles her way between the two bodies who sink deeper beneath the covers, lazily moaning like ghosts.

“Mama! Papa! Wake up! It’s time to get up!”

Trevor hopes that his tactic of throwing open the weighted curtains works in a more effective manner. Listening to the rising chorus of wordless protests coming from behind, he’s pleased with the results. “Never thought I would be the one setting a good example for our daughter.”

“Do not get cheeky, especially this early.” Sypha’s response spills out like running water. It’s clear her mind isn’t quite all there yet. But she can scoop Mirele into her arms, find every ticklish spot, and illicit giggles that only canines might hear. “At least we both know how to have fun, right my sweet?”

“Vampires… nocturnal…” A deeper, muffled voice emerges from under one of the pillows.

“Something you’d like to share with us, Alucard?” Trevor quips, amused at how the other father of the household can never seem to shake off his morning dishevelment. Perhaps sleeping in a coffin would help—a very large one so he doesn’t have to be alone. Alucard reluctantly removes the pillow as tangled heaps of gold fall over his face.

“Vampires are supposed to be nocturnal. Would you rather I burst into ashes upon contact with the sun? Think of our girls, Trevor.”

“We’ve all seen you in the sun before, it’s about as dangerous as a clove of garlic.”

“I have my own means of physical protection. Far beyond your measly human comprehension, love.”

“Personally, I’ve been able to comprehend you plenty.”

Mirele stares up at Sypha, her bushy brows furrowed. “What does… comp… sshhheshion mean?”

“It’s just another word your fathers use whenever either of them want to feel smart.”

Alucard gives Sypha a gentle pinch on either side of her abdomen. “I thought you were on my side.”

“What about my side?” Trevor asks, excelling at the greatest strength he possesses—the ability to never take anything seriously, only when he must.

“I’m hungry,” Mirele speaks up. “Hungry and bored. Can we eat now?”

This life is not normal, but then again it is. It always has been for them. Normal once meant coming together because of violence, encroaching darkness, and some flimsy prophecy stringing them along one dead body at a time. A prophecy which never said what had to be done after they followed it to the hard earned letter. Perhaps that’s why Trevor, Sypha, and Alucard floundered afterwards. No instruction on how to live their upturned lives.

Fuck prophecy.

They made this life by their own standards and in accordance with their own desires. They loved how they wanted to love and no prophecy could have foreseen Mirele. How she calls for her father while both Trevor and Alucard turn their heads at the same exact second. How she quickly calms herself when presented with a bowl of warm oatmeal drowning in honey and wild fruits hand plucked from the surrounding forest. But it’s not enough. Nothing ever is for someone always growing, always wanting more from life at such a young age.

“Can I have bread?”

Trevor, half way through his bitter coffee, turns to Sypha then Alucard as all three parental figures exchange glances. They haven’t the heart to tell Mirele. No bread at the ready, only the necessary ingredients and a considerable amount of flour bags to blanket Enisala. There’s the option of making it themselves, yet it depends on a certain someone’s capacity for patience.

“How do you feel about baking our own?” Trevor’s voice wavers, which he tries to mask with his characteristic dry tone. It’s been a long time since he’s made bread. Then again, helping the manor cooks was a somewhat selfish endeavour as it meant extra servings for the baby of the Belmonts. Yet his proposal goes over well with Mirele, whose inherited eyes light up at the prospect of trying something new.

“I wanna make bread! Can we? Can we please?”

“When was the last time you baked anything, Trevor?” Alucard asks, genuinely curious and with a healthy dose of skepticism. “You still won’t tell us much about anything concerning your former life, let alone the sort of foods your family ate.”

Trevor feels a twinge in his gut—still better than a punch. His two lovers, even his daughter, they only know of his mother; a matriarch in her own right. They know her name, the monsters she killed, and not much else. Trevor’s excuses: he doesn’t remember anything about her, despite the fact that he does. He didn’t know her for very long or very well, so there’s no point in missing her. Trevor did know Sonia and he does miss her, sometimes more than he can handle. Then the easiest excuse: it’s just another self-preservation tactic.

Out of this inner reflection comes an idea. It breaks tradition in a way. For the Belmonts and other Jewish families, everything is passed down through the mother—recipes, forms of worship, blood memories, centuries old tactics of bruising one’s knuckles and temples. Trevor doesn’t think this slight deviation from his culture’s norm will make him any less of what he’s always been. Mirele will simply have to pick up where he left off when she’s grown.

He doesn’t want to think about that now. She’s only five after all. One lesson at a time.

“Alright. Gather round, pupils. The bread we’re making isn’t just any bread. Forget everything you know and everything you’ve been taught because this will be the closest thing to heaven you’ll ever taste.”

“How dramatic…” Sypha mutters under her breath. Alucard joins her amusement with a subdued chuckle.

“I believe you were partially his influence.”

Trevor knows how much trouble he’ll be in if he puts Mirele through the most agonizing cruelty of waiting a second longer than necessary. Fearful of her pint-sized wrath, he gives everyone the order to start gathering ingredients: flour, eggs, honey, and some indulgent herbs to make this particular bread something special. As much of a strategic leader in the kitchen as he is when the world is coming to an end. With everything spread out on the countertops, Trevor guides his family step by step through the only recipe he remembers. He calls this bread “challah”, which Mirele immediately strains her freshly green vocal chords, trying to pronounce the word exactly as her father does. She quickly gives up and focuses on mixing the ingredients with an intense look—almost to a fault as bits of sloppy dough fly out of the bowl. Good. This enthusiasm is what Trevor wants to see.

Kneaded and allowed time to rise, the next step is the most important. Trevor divides the dough into four halves, then again, and again until each participant has their own handful of raw unbaked strips.

“We have to braid them?” Mirele asks following his explanation.

“That’s right. It’s what makes this bread different from all the rest.”

“Just like when papa let’s me braid his pretty hair!”

Every pair of eyes turns to Alucard, whose smile widens in that way which causes his eyes to shut tightly. Fangs happily bared as he pulls Mirele into his flour and dough covered arms while she giggles in delight. After they all return to work, her loaf turns out the same way as the braids she gives to him—lopsided, uneven, lacking a few outsticking stray hairs, but filled with affection and genuine resolve.

Three loaves are placed into the oven, including a fourth crudely constructed but still adequately done piece. Mirele is now more willing to play the waiting game—so she claims. Sitting in front of the oven while staring directly into its insides, utterly fascinated, oblivious to her surroundings. Unaware that her three parents are whispering behind her back. Eventually, Sypha has to gently pull her away with her bottom dragging along the kitchen floor.

“How about you and I do something a little more interesting while your fathers keep watch over things.”

“But what about the c… the calla!”

“Don’t worry, they will look after it. And we are not going far, my sweet.”

“We’ll make sure nothing burns down.” Trevor assures, despite it being Sypha who usually revels in cinders and ashes, intentionally or not.

The two retreat down the corridor past diamond shaped stained windows and into one of the manor’s smaller libraries where the cabinets reach the high ceiling painted in deep blue hues. Scattered from corner to corner are constellations of stars and midnight clouds obscuring each phase of the moon. Once when Alucard found Mirele curiously asleep atop a number of pillows when she should have been in her own bed, it was his decision to paint the library in new colours. Sypha moves aside an entire shelf of thick volumes as though trying to find a carefully hidden switch that will lead them into a secret chamber. It’s what Mirele hopes but turns mildly disappointed when the books do not in fact magically shift to reveal a stone passageway. Her soured anticipation is only countered when Sypha places a box on the desk.

“Can you guess what’s inside?”

“Is it treasure?”

“Close! You are almost right.” Sypha opens the lid just as Pandora did except there are no horrors, no evils to be wrought upon humanity. Mirele peeks inside and her eyes shine with the glistening silver of trinkets, pendants, and talismans. She resists the innate urge to reach her hands, still white with flour, into the box only to briefly experience the sensation of holding one between her fingers. Even children know when something is sacred.

“These belonged to your grandparents. They used them for protection and strength. A long time ago, before you were born, their home burned down and everything was destroyed.”

“Papa’s home?”

Sypha nods, grateful that this story now has its happy ending, slight as it may be. “However, when your other father started building the manor we live in, he found this box trapped amongst all the rubble. It managed to survive.”

“What do they say?”

Mirele points to one pendant molded in the shape of a sword. Inscribed along the curve of its ash-riddled blade are the Hebrew names of angels which must have been muttered by Sonia or Gabriel. The longer Mirele stares, attempting to decipher yet another new language, the brighter her cheeks grow red with frustration. Her mother acts quick just as her eyes begin to water.

“It’s alright if you don’t understand what any of them say.”

“I can learn! Please, mama? I promise I’ll study really hard!”

Sypha’s lips curl as Mirele continues her begging. Oh the mind of a child. How quickly it changes.

The kitchen feels hotter, wafting through the air. Enveloping the room and everything caught between its walls. Trevor stands by the oven, a thick cloth ready in his hand. It shouldn’t take much longer. At least there’s no stench of something burning. Almost makes him pine for the days of his family’s massive stone oven and how he would sneak around at night and pick out leftover morsels from inside like an insatiable mouse. Not unlike the actual beasts which he hunted throughout the hallways before moving onto larger prey typical of a Belmonts’ work—or as large as his own runtish body mass could handle.

Minutes of quiet pass, still eyeing the loaves with a keen gaze. Trevor’s concentration soon broken by the feeling of two arms wrapping around his softening yet still robust midsection. Slow and careful, until his back is pressed against an equally broad chest.

“Can I help you?” He asks as Alucard buries his face into the curvature of his shoulder blades.

“You’re already helping.” The dhampir, unchanging in his physical appearance (a revelation both Trevor and Sypha refuse to acknowledge for the time being), tightens his embrace.

“Something wrong?”

“No… I just enjoy feeling how much softer and warmer you’ve become.”

Trevor’s cheeks blush ever so pinker and not because of the oven’s heat. By now he should be used to Alucard’s sudden bouts of outward affection.

“You even smell better.”

There it is. Trevor thought he would be waiting forever to hear that little jab, though said with nothing but a good heart.

“That might be the herbs you’re smelling.”

Alucard shifts around so that the two of them are side by side, cheek to cheek, as he chuckles in Trevor’s ear. “Come here.”

He doesn’t offer a kiss, not where Trevor was expecting. Instead of his lips, Alucard singles out every patch of stray flour on his face, kissing, wiping, even licking them clean. Cheek, jawline, and nose. Trevor’s expression twists into a ticklish, surprisingly delighted facade.

“You’re a half vampire, not a cat.”

“Better to clean you now than later.”

“Always so fucking odd…”

“You love it.”

Much to his lucky stars, Trevor manages one curse mere seconds before Sypha and Mirele return. They let their daughter speak at a breakneck speed neither one can fully comprehend—something about silver pieces and whether they can teach her a new language—until one series of questions finally sticks.

“Is the bread ready yet? Can we eat it now? Can we please?”

Trevor placates Mirele by revealing the fruits of their joint hard earned labour: four freshly baked and perfectly shined challah loaves each representative of whoever did the braiding. She bounces in her chair before simmering down to an excited tremble once Trevor warns her of how they need to cool. In order to make this more of a meal, he rummages about in search of two other beacons from his childhood. He’s rewarded with one of the few fresh apples they have left while Sypha, ever in tune with his inner thoughts, grabs another small pot of honey for him.

Trevor thanks her by gently running his palm across her lower abdomen, over the growing bump. He keeps it there for just a second longer, a subtle gesture of love noticed by Sypha. Fingertips intertwined with each other, they join Alucard and Mirele at the table as the midday sun shines golden through the windows.

#castlevania #castlevania fanfiction #trevor belmont #alucard #alucard castlevania #sypha belnades #trephacard #my writing #*cvfic #jewish trevor

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iamnightduchess · 5 years ago

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Reiner & Mikasa: A Retrospective Pt.2

“The Shield of Marley & The Blade of Paradis”

Why ReiKasa is a (BR)OTP ship that’s worth more than a fleeting glance

[*caution: a continuation of a long reflective post with the sole intention to share a fan’s perspective through available representation through manga, anime, exhibition & etc. This post is not to convince nor argue where is its place in canon, but only to explore the vast possibilities of these two amazing characters that I love. In the end, if the series ends with Mikasa alive & ending by herself or with X character, then it means Isayama believes that X character is the one she’ll find that eventual happiness with and I’m all for that. Same goes with Reiner :)] Special thanks to @berumika for sharing some of the additional points that are included in this post. Years down the line after SnK ended, I’d love to have a post I can revisit of these two amazing characters & the possibilities that could have been from time to time. I’m having absolute fun in observing how much both of these characters have grown since the series debuted in 2010.

Pt. 1 available here. Warning: Image heavy, potential spoilers.

When I first got to know SnK/AoT, it was through the anime first before manga. Bad idea for me. My initial perspectives of Mikasa & Reiner were skewed and that was later rectified as I navigated the original source directly. Eren is the first protagonist that was introduced by the series creator but I was drawn to Mikasa & Reiner when I started the manga after Season 1 ended.

Trainees

These top two trainees of the 104th batch are closely matched to each other in ranking. We don’t see them interact directly in the anime, but in the early panels of the manga, Reiner could be seen sitting down with Eren, Mikasa & Armin during mealtimes.

Sure, Mikasa can be expected to not converse with Reiner directly, but if her two childhood friends have their good friend sitting together for meals, at the very least we can expect them to have some brownie points in socialization.

Apart from being total gorgeous hotties, they’re both physically strong people, with Reiner always being second to Mikasa in terms of brute strength. Total muscle pairing and I could see them being at par with each other during physical drills. Reiner & Mikasa could go all out, even beyond 100% and the other would be physically capable to take/receive the force. Shadis would’ve tasked them to lead the physical trainings from time to time. They have been sparring partners, evident from the moment Mikasa threw Reiner across the field into Eren who’s sparring with Annie. Their fitness regime would be in-sync with each other. I could see them having mad respect for each other and secretly admire the other person’s prowess and skill.

Connection through Eren

As highlighted primarily in Pt.1, Eren has been shown to look up or aspire to be high achievers like Reiner and Mikasa both. He wanted to be as strong as the two of them. The odds of the very same people he look up to, as the two individuals who would be able to stop him, I would suspect as very high at this point.

When they were younger, Reiner has always been the one that’s pulled Eren up when he’s down, nearly giving up & at the lowest points of his life. He was also the one who convinced Eren to ‘keep on moving forward’, which we’ll learn later was one of the most ironic moments that Reiner recalled as he feels responsible for everything that begun, which also pushed his guilt inside him to his near-suicide attempt.

Survey Corps

Reveal on Wall Rose

Mikasa, was one of the few junior SC members who were called in for the secret meeting with the unit’s top brass the night before the reveal. She was made aware of Reiner & Bertolt’s possible identity as the enemy after she assisted with apprehending Annie in Wall Sina. While Reiner was talking to Eren, Mikasa could be seen being highly agitated, hands shaking as she waited with unease breath for Reiner & Bertolt to make their move.

She was later seen questioning her hesitance on delivering the killing blow or at least enough to incapacitate them. Mikasa called Reiner & Bertolt “the plague of humanity” in anger and absolute disappointment. They were still her friends that she knew for three years & it had been difficult for her to kill them.

Thunder Spears Training

Mikasa could be seen reflecting in a combination of unease, sadness & regret as she recalled back the moment she was unable to break Reiner’s armor with her blades.

Return to Shinganshina

Mikasa was the one who crippled the Armored’s legs. She wasn’t as emotional as Connie, Jean & Sasha but there was a deep, painful rumination on her part the moment they assumed that Reiner was dead dead. She was also the one who noticed the sudden move from Reiner’s Armored Titan. In the anime, she could be seen angry & frustrated at Reiner’s refusal to confess that she pulled too hard on the bandage in her hands while she was helping Jean with his injuries.

Time-Skip (Current)

Reiner’s reminiscence & nightmares

Reiner’s reminiscence of Mikasa was indirect, but he highlighted her (and Armin’s) fierce, unwavering loyalty towards Eren. He had recurring nightmares of her & Levi that are the symptoms of his PTSD. The anime specifically used her shot to highlight the last image of her that he saw: anger.

Assault in Liberio

You could see the existing disappointment on her face when Reiner’s partially transformed Titan appeared, having to cross paths again in such a way after four years. She could’ve intervened the way she did with Galliard’s Jaw but she didn’t. Eren said Reiner’s out of any energy left to retaliate and Mikasa didn’t disagree. At this point, Mikasa is already affected by Eren’s actions in murdering the women & children inside the building that he shifted in and the destruction they all left behind.

Connection through Gabi

Reiner’s young cousin reminded Armin & Mikasa of a young Eren. The difference is that, Gabi had an early opportunity to be saved through the compassion showed by Mikasa and Sasha’s beloved family. The very same people who had every right to be sad, grieving and taking out their anger on the child who gunned down their beloved friend & daughter.

Mikasa doesn’t verbally express her emotions but it can be shown through her body language & facial expressions. I love seeing the tender way she pressed Gabi’s head onto her shoulder as protection and a symbolism of safety. It was a bit sad that this ‘bond’ was short-lived but what an amazing connection it would’ve been if Mikasa & Gabi had been given more space to develop their bond in canon.

Concern for Reiner & Annie

Usually when Mikasa verbally expresses something, it is usually important/significant to her. In ch.124, she could be seen asking Gabi about Reiner’s location. Why? It’s because she is concerned for Reiner’s safety. If his Armors were undone, he was vulnerable and with pure Titans and the Colossal Titans walking around, he would be in danger.

“We need to help Reiner & Annie.” She was heavily concerned with Reiner and Annie’s lives at the docks. But this moment is more important for Connie as a callback to the moment when Annie & Reiner both had saved Connie when they were trainees.

Adjacent Manga/Official Art Paneling(s)

In the current final arc of the manga, (several panels have been highlighted in Pt.1) it’s quite interesting to note that Mikasa & Reiner’s characters/panelings have been drawn adjacent to each other. I could also see the way Armin, Reiner & Mikasa (ARM) are getting primary focus by Isayama in this final arc.

Others (Misc./Semi-canon)

Cool-faced Cookie (Attack on Titan Game)

When Reiner suggested the player to do a melee practice with two other sparring partners, he immediately spotted Mikasa & Historia. It’s very interesting to note that Reiner’s nickname for Mikasa is “Cool-faced cookie” as he hinted the player to ask Mikasa for an impromptu practice.

The blink and miss furtive glance(s)

In Lost Girls OVA’s ED by WIT, a screenshot of the primary 104th walking together could be seen. Mikasa could be seen sneaking a glance at Reiner.

In a scene during the fresh SC recruits discussing intensely about Eren’s role as humanity’s hope, Reiner could be seen glancing silently with concern for Mikasa, as Jean questions her vouch of confidence in Eren’s abilities.

In Snk OVA#3, Mikasa is grouped with Reiner for the excursion and they could be seen having good teamwork together. When Mikasa’s ‘sixth senses’ are triggered due to Eren being in danger, Reiner could be seen looking at her direction immediately as if sensing her distress.

Characteristics & Zodiac Signs

Amazing/Compassionate with children

Known as the Shield of Marley, Reiner’s a caring keeper, a natural leader and a provider who’s naturally amazing with children. Everyone looks up to him. Would’ve made a good family man if the circumstances were different. Based on his characteristics & physical attribute, he reminds me of Mikasa’s father below, no matter how short-lived he was. I could see her admiring that side of him even if it wasn’t mentioned directly. They are both loving, selfless, protective towards their child/ward.

Mikasa, true to her name, an Ackerman, a genetically-enhanced super soldier/warrior of Paradis that wields their blades with the highest efficiency. Though she might not seem as natural with children, did come from a healthy & loving upbringing with her parents for nine years. Her real persona as a child pre-awakening is a curious, thoughtful and actually a warm-hearted girl. Post-awakening characteristics could also be contributed from the traumas imposed by the murder of her parents, the fall of Wall Maria, the death of Carla & having to shoulder the immediate responsibility as Eren’s new ‘guardian’/caregiver/problem-solver/mess-cleaner.

She shown her compassion towards Gabi, which in turn had proved to the little girl how there are good-hearted, forgiving people in the Island. Mikasa could be observed as being heavily concerned with Falco as she questioned Jean about the young boy. One could see the anger on her face when she saw Connie took off and abducted Falco to be fed to his mom. She drew the line in harming children even if they’re trained enemy soldiers.

Aquarius & Leo’s Compatibility

Reiner’s a Leo and Mikasa’s an Aquarius. Their characteristics are too coincidental to their respective astrological signs to be disregarded completely.

He’s an extrovert (Ref: younger!Reiner. Older Reiner too but his PTSD’s and maturity have taken over his more outgoing personality) that compliments her introvert personality yet they both have their inner demons to deal with and could somehow understand that about each other. He’s a ray of sunshine that could enlighten her melancholic personality. Yet their dominant personalities, although might be clashing at first, eventually would lead them to respect the other’s perspective. This would ring true when they were younger. Currently they have grown older, wiser and more understanding of the other.

At the current Final Arc, this has been highlighted in Part 1, recent chapters have shown older Reiner and Mikasa’s unspoken respect and understanding for each other. The current Reiner’s natural leadership as a born Leo is very apparent. Reiner was being very mindful of her feelings as Eren is a very sensitive subject & Mikasa took in Reiner’s words with serious consideration.

It would be great to see more of their combined synergy as Reiner & Mikasa’s teamwork could be seen once again in ch.135. Aquarius & Leo would take turns to take a back seat while letting the other leads.

They are actually very physically and sensually compatible with each other & could potentially be an unstoppable force if they were to fight for the same side. At the moment, I’m hoping to see this potentially deadly combination once again in ch.136 onwards. They could’ve overtaken Eren’s Founding Form is it wasn’t for OG!Ymir’s one-sided overkill powers. To the real God who created the parasite worm, please take powers away frpm this uncontrollable grandma in a little girl’s body.

More of Mikasa’s Aquarius & Reiner’s Leo Compatibility Meter with description below:

Since this is SnK and not Berserk/Tokyo Ghoul/insert other josei manga titles, no one’s having sex directly haha In an ideal world, Reiner & Mikasa’s physical attractions for each other will almost be off the charts. “When they find true emotion, Aquarius might actually end up respecting the king”. In current arc, this can be observed. She respects Reiner & his words.

The above describes both Mikasa and Reiner respectively. Mikasa does not reach for heroism directly but it can be seen indirectly from the way she had inspired a child Louise through her bravery, protecting Gabi and rescuing/protecting the Azumabito Service crew from the Jeagerists. Reiner has always been born to be a hero, regardless of the circumstances of his conception or birth.

“If they end up fighting for the same cause, they could turn down entire governments and use their incredible force to change anything in the world.”

Even oppressive, destructive supernatural, God-like powers? Ymir & Eren, better be prepared.

“To get there, these two would have to stop the battle they have with each other.” Check and Check.

“Leo -- has the ability to give clarity to any situation.” Ch.133. That was not Reiner projecting. He’s always been Eren’s counterpart. He’s telling the readers that there’s a part of Eren out there that still wants to be stopped since he has surrender his will to Ymir. She took his words into serious consideration and in Paths, voices out to Eren on his sins and burden.

“Leo is exactly what Aquarius needs to find love. -- to liberate and shine as if they have been searching for one another for many lifetimes.” In an ideal world or in my gazillion AUs: Reiner and Mikasa could be soulmates.

This could ring true for the younger Reiner & Mikasa.

Reiner and Mikasa both are indeed strong, selfless individuals in each other’s eyes. This can be observed in Ch.133 & 135. Reiner feared her but respect her strength & feelings when it relates to Eren nevertheless. Even Reiner was taken aback by Pieck’s ultimatum in blowing the Founder’s neck, although Armin had suggested the same thing the night before.

“Just like the Sun and the lightning don’t go together, Aquarius should take over on a rainy day, in a depressive crowd or in places where they both feel as if they would drown. This is where Leo needs to give in and let their partner rule the sky--” It wasn’t a rainy day or depressive crowd in ch. 135, it was a chaotic shitstorm and they were all not drowning but dying. Period. Our dear Mikasa took charge like a BAMF Queen that she is. She was putting her life on the line to protect the four injured men behind them. She aimed to buy them more time if she could as everyone expected it to be the end. As highlighted in Pt.1, you could see the helplessness on Reiner’s face when he saw Mikasa’s breaking point.

Reference : http://www.astrology-zodiac-signs.com/compatibility/aquarius-leo/

Final Exhibition

The Final Exhibition highlights the Last Stand: the direct final confrontation between The Founding/Attack against The Armored, with Mikasa being in the middle of the confrontation, tipping the scales of the outcome. Before, she assisted Eren against Reiner. Currently, she is working with Reiner to stop Eren.

Trio(s) Parallel

An interesting panel from ch.97:

EMA & RBA have always been lauded as the main trio of their respective sides. We have seen Armin taking over Bertolt’s powers & is potentially promised a future with the girl that Bertolt had feelings for. Recognize the probable pattern?

Guy from trio 1 ate Guy from trio 2′s Titan & is promised a potential future with the girl he cares for/have feelings for/close with from the trio.

Only one between between Eren & Reiner will remain. What if the story begins with Eren but will end with Reiner all along?

SnK HighSchool AU / Breakfast Club X-over

In the movie, the Jock (Quarterback!Reiner) ends up with the Rebel (Goth!Mikasa). He looks past her eccentricity & see her for who she is. This is a fun crossover by Isayama but very interesting to see Armin, Mikasa & Reiner work together to save Eren in the fake previews.

Whether the combined strength and perseverance of the Blade of Paradis & the Shield of Marley be enough to save the world from total annihilation? It remains to be seen very, very soon.

No matter how the series ends, whether both Reiner and Mikasa survive or not, I’ll be looking back in pride upon seeing their journey, growth & dynamics as either individual or together in this beautiful series by Hajime Isayama’s brilliant mind. Because of him, these two characters inspired his readers, myself included, to be brave and fight for what they truly believe in: humanity & its continuation. It has been an incredible ride and I will continue to enjoy writing for this OTP/BROTP, that I’ve fell so deeply in love with and their vast possibilities.

#snk #aot #shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan #進撃の巨人 Attack on Titan #snk meta #snk thoughts #snk opinions #snk spoilers #snk 135 #snk 133 #snk 134 #Retrospective #reiner braun #mikasa ackerman #reiner x mikasa #ReiKasa #character appreciation #ship appreciation

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ruewrites · 4 years ago

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Thrones are Built on Lies Chapter 4: Little White Lies

AO3

Ship: ???, Diavolo/Lucifer

Word Count: 3083

Warnings: None

A/N: Hey guys! I hopy you’re continuing to enjoy the story so far! I love hearing your feedback especially when it comes to theories you might have about the story.

The magic of Arcadia runs deep in her roots. Legends tell of deep underground caverns filled with guardians and traps which prove perilous to anyone who dare venture into the deep. It is also said the royal family has their own connections as well. The gods had entrusted the first Kings and Queens to the magic in order to both protect it and the land which it sleeps beneath. Magic then became a part of the family bloodline. It is unknown whether or not it skips generations and no one is exactly sure as to how it shows itself within different family members. Some believe that this (magic) is also the reason that the Arcadian kingdom became an empire, as it allowed Kings and Queens to emerge victorious from battle time and time again.

Regardless of whether these tales are fact or fiction, it is undeniable that Arcadia holds power in one form or another. Many sources point to magic, yet none have substantial proof due to the fact that if it does indeed exist the royal family would certainly be rather protective of it. This may also be why they are peculiar about who they let into the family.

Furthermore-

That had been the last of Solomon's summary before he had collapsed onto his parchment. The wax from his candle slowly dripped downwards towards the tin holder below. He functioned incredibly well as a king, but not so much as a human person.

Low knocks on his door roused him, grumbling from his slumber. He stood from his chair, allowing his vertebrae to crack as he did so, and trudged over to the door.

"Good Morning," Simeon's all too cheerful voice rang out, "You have ink smudged on your face."

"Aren't you a little cheery this morning Simeon?" Solomon asked, attempting to wipe the ink off of his face.

"You've never been a morning person have you? Perhaps it's a good thing the princess ran into me so she wouldn't have to see you like this," Simeon lifted a tray stacked with eggs, pancakes, and a variety of meats and cheeses, "She wanted to bring you breakfast since you weren't at the table. Apparently there's something she wants to speak with you about."

"Something?" Solomon repeated, ignoring the jabs aimed at him and eyeing the food in front of him.

"She wouldn't elaborate, but she did seem nervous. Incredibly so."

"Really now?"

"The entire tray was shaking in her hands."

So her mood hadn't improved from last night. If anything, it seemed to be worse now. Taking the tray from Simeon, Solomon moved to sit on his bed. Yet another problem added to his list.

No. He shouldn't think of her as a problem.

That wasn't the way to approach this, grumpy or not.

"I should probably seek her out then," he sighed, starting to work on his breakfast, "If she really is that anxious it'll be easy for her to lose her nerve. The sooner we speak, the less time she has to dwell on it."

Simeon stared at him for a moment. Solomon tried to ignore the look on his face. It was one he'd become familiar with. He only ever saw it when Simeon felt the need to be brutally honest with him.

"Are you sure you should go through with this marriage?"

There it was.

He set down his fork and sighed.

"This family seems, what's the word, unfit for someone like you. They're disjointed and rather chaotic. I'm sure the death of their father doesn't help things, but," Simeon sighed, "I just don't want you stuck in something like this."

Solomon mulled over Simeon's words in his head. Dinner with the family certainly had been quite the event. If Simeon was saying something then he must have also witnessed something. Surely, marrying into the royal family would prove to be more of a commitment than he originally thought. But he couldn't give up on his ambition. Not when he was here.

"Simeon, we're in Arcadia. Opportunities like this don't just hand themselves out! To give this up would be ludicrous!" Solomon said. Though he still saw the doubt swimming in Simeon's eyes, so he continued, "Besides, if her family is always like this, marrying me will bring her a sense of normalcy."

"Solomon-"

"Am I wrong Simeon?"

Simeon didn't say a word.

Solomon ate the rest of his breakfast in silence, said silence stretched into the time it took him to walk to his clothes, "Where is Luke?"

"With Lord Diavolo's butler. Barbatos made quite the impression on him yesterday."

"Really?"

"Really."

And Luke had been so set on not trusting any Arcadian. Though, to his credit, Barbatos wasn't Arcadian so to speak. So the child had found a loophole. Sweets and cakes were the way to a child's trust it seemed.

"Who knows Simeon, you may lose your apprentice to a butler."

"Oh I highly doubt that."

Solomon decided on something a bit more relaxed today. Perhaps if he wasn't wearing his kingly attire Lilith would be more incline to open up around him. He needed her to feel comfortable around him. How were they to make this work otherwise? Solomon refused to live a miserable life.

He stepped out from behind the curtain in a loose shirt that left part of his chest exposed and black slacks. "Well?" he asked, turning in a circle around himself, "What do you think? Is it enough to make a princess swoon?"

"I do believe so. Maybe even enough for you to start your own little family tonight."

Solomon flinched, "I wouldn't go that far."

"And why not?"

Oh why not? For starters he wouldn't be able to devote time to his research. Solomon was a busy man, he had things he needed to do before he was too old to meet his goals. A child he wasn't prepared for yet would put more than a damper in his plans. Not to mention, stress he wasn't prepared for. Then there had also been Lilith's reaction to the very mention of fertility.

No.

A child right now wouldn't be the right thing.

Not for him.

"You are aware her brother already seems to despise me right? He already doesn't want me in her room, I don't think I'd live to see another day if I added to his family tonight," he said. It was a partial truth. Not his main concern, but a partial truth nonetheless.

Simeon only chuckled in response.

After his trusted friend left to find his apprentice, Solomon went after his fiance.

He had to wonder if she was hiding from him. He figured he wouldn't run into her right away, but he at least figured that it wouldn't take very long to find her.

Surely he expected to see someone, anyone, to ask where she might be but every hall was oddly empty.

Just like the streets of Arcadia.

The first person he ran into was none other than Azazel. Well, it was better than running into the crown prince himself. At least Solomon could assume that Azazel didn't despise him.

He appeared to be inspecting each of the thrones, moving them ever so slightly in one direction or another. His fingers caressed the throne in the center, following its every curve and bend. Focus consumed his eyes. Perhaps he was inspecting them for the upcoming coronation? Under his free arm, there was a book. It was thick, leather bound, and from what he could see it also looked worn.

Solomon had to wonder if Azazel looked up by chance or if he sensed his presence.

"Solomon, good morning! I was hoping to run into you. You slept well I hope?"

"I did. I'm enjoying a bed to myself while I still can. Thank you Azazel."

He'd have to share one for the rest of his life in a short time. Cool sheets would turn warm and Solomon would lose the comforting familiarity of solitude. He could always have his own room he supposed, but he wasn't sure how his fiance would feel.

"I do understand what you mean. Speaking of my niece, I do want to apologize for last night."

Solomon tensed. This was already a conversation he didn't want to have.

"I assure you that she's usually polite. We had to work hard to break some of her more stubborn habits, but it appears there was a slip up last night," he frowned and clutched the book tighter, "I had a talk with her this morning, and I can assure you that it will not be happening again. "

"I didn't think she did anything wrong," Solomon's words came out quick and sharp, "In fact, I quite enjoy how she reacted. I would have liked to see her take it farther. After all, she was dragged into the whole thing. It wasn't like she orchestrated it herself."

Azazel seemed stunned, but he didn't say any more. Instead, he studied Solomon. His fingers drummed against the book in his possession and a low hum left him.

Solomon had said what he said.

He wasn't going to regret it.

"I see. That certainly isn't something I would have expected you to say," he said, "I would have expected a man with your reputation to be a bit more strict in nature."

Certainly he wasn't implying what Solomon thought he was implying. Strict with Lilith? She was an adult, not a child.

"She can make her own decisions," Solomon's voice became lower, darker, "I'm not her guardian."

"Whatever she does reflects your reputation as well," Azazel countered in a similar tone, "Keep that in mind when making your decisions."

Solomon hated the way something within him twinged.

He did want to control how he was remembered.

He wanted to be praised across the ages.

Azazel's smile returned to his face. "But of course that's something you can do to help curate your own legacy. And speaking of legacies," he held the book out to Solomon, "I've been informed that you took a trip to my nephew's library. I think you and I have similar interests from what I've heard, and I thought you would take interest in this book."

Solomon didn't make a move to take it.

"It's focused on magic, specifically Arcadian magic, and more in depth than anything else you'll find here. I'm sure such a talented scholar as yourself would thoroughly enjoy it."

It was tempting.

How could he resist?

Any lead he could get when it came to Arcadia's secrets was one he needed.

"I was hoping we could chat together at some point over tea? It would be a shame for you to be left out of family secrets when you're about to become family" Azazel slipped his arm to Solomon's back and gazed down at the book in his hands, "I'm sure we'll have plenty to discuss."

When had been the last time Solomon spoke with another scholar? Someone who was on his level of intellect? When had he found the time to do such a thing?

Never.

The truth was that Solomon couldn't remember the last time he'd had a back and forth conversation. Usually people would listen to him as he rambled on about his studies and interests, but they couldn't contribute to the conversation. It was frustrating and often left Solomon feeling as if he was lacking something. Yes he had knowledge, but he wanted to share it and build on it.

Solomon gripped the cover in his hands.

"I've been meaning to speak with Lilith, but I certainly can start on this book. I'll be able to read enough to discuss with you soon."

His fingers were itching to start digging into the pages.

Would it be as enticing as Azazel was promising him?

"Good! Good. Let me know whenever you wish to speak and I shall be waiting for you," Azazel patted his back, and started to leave, "Now I must leave you. I have to speak to Lucifer about the matters of the day. He always has tea with his husband at this hour."

"Wait, do you know where Lilith is?"

"What for? I already said I spoke to her about last night."

"That's not- I was under the impression she wished to speak with me."

Azazel paused for a moment, "Well, I do believe she is busy at the moment."

"With wh-"

"With tasks she must attend to. She also needs to review a few of her lessons, as is evident from last night."

Solomon thought he'd already made it clear how he felt about last night.

"Now how is that-"

"Listen to me," Azazel snipped, turning his head to look at Solomon, "That innocent looking doe-eyed fiance of yours will bleed you dry and ruin your reputation if you don't watch yourself. Take it from a man who witnessed other reputations ruined. These descendants of my brother will ruin you. They are nowhere near fit to rule alongside the crown prince."

He turned away from him, "I am their uncle. I think I would know when discipline is the correct form of action."

He had some point Solomon supposed. He had just met the Morningstar family. He knew nothing of them. Yet he couldn't help but want to prove Azazel wrong.

Yes he was a fellow scholar and Solomon would appreciate his company when fit, but that didn't mean he had to agree with him in all of his methods. And Lilith seemed to be one of those things that they'd have to disagree on.

Lilith couldn't be that bad. How could she be that bad?

No one seemed to be able to tell him when her lessons would be done or when he could speak with her. Not a soul. He thought that he might be able to catch her that day, but he was wrong.

Not that day.

Nor the day after that.

He kept missing her.

It was driving him insane.

Maybe he should have gone to breakfast the day she'd said something to Simeon.

He tried to pour himself into his studies, tried to finish his other books so he could get to the one Azazel had entrusted to him. Yet even when he did finish his other books, he couldn't bring himself to open it, not yet.

This one would require all of his focus, and he couldn't focus when he knew that Lilith had some sort of thing to ask of him.

Something that seemed to have her incredibly nervous.

It was evening, Solomon sat at his desk, pouring over his notes next to dripping candle wax when a knock came from. His door.

Simeon stood slightly behind Lilith who was twiddling her fingers and desperately trying to avoid his gaze.

"They don't know I'm here," her voice was soft, as if she was afraid of speaking any louder lest she summon one of her brothers (or all of them), "I asked your friend if he could take me here… I hope you don't mind."

Solomon shook his head. He wasn't exactly dressed for the occasion, but he opened his door a bit more, "Not at all, I've been looking for you actually. Would you like to come in?"

No sooner had he motioned for her to come in than her eyes widened in horror and her hands quickly shot up. Nervous laughter spilling from her lips, "Oh no. I was um, actually hoping we could go outside the palace. Somewhere a bit more private…"

Solomon looked at Simeon who shrugged his shoulders. With a snap of his fingers Solomon extinguished the candle and stepped outside of his room.

"Lead the way."

Leaving Simeon behind, the two made their way outside and away from the town that surrounded the entrance. Solomon supposed he should have been a bit more wary when they left the gates and the wall that surrounded them, but he wasn't.

He couldn't help but notice how Lilith kept him at an arm's length away. Could she be worried about his intentions? Maybe he had done something to offend her during her bath, or maybe he shouldn't have followed her in at all. In hindsight that was rude of him. Perhaps there was some way he could reassure her and have her feel safe around him.

Finally, she came to a stop at a small clearing and sat down, still avoiding his gaze.

It was a warm night, and fireflies danced around the two of them bursting into light every now and again.

Solomon sat a little ways down from her, and looked up at the sky.

"I don't know how to start," she said after a moment.

"Take your time, there's no need to rush," he said, "Besides, I'm not usually on the best of sleep schedules anyways."

"Stop that."

Solomon furrowed his brow. What? What had he done? He hadn't moved from his position. He hadn't reached out for her.

What had he done to upset her?

"If you don't mind me asking, what is it that I did?"

Lilith made a small noise of frustration while wiggling and gripping at her sleeves, "Being so nice to me. And charming and funny and attractive- You're making this harder."

Solomon was stunned, "I? I'm? Excuse me?"

Was she planning on calling off their union? No. No no no. Not when he'd come so far. Not when what he desperately wanted was right in his grasp. He couldn't let her go. He had to find some way to fix it.

Standing up, Lilith started to walk towards the other end of the clearing. She was tense and her body was shaking. Honestly, Solomon thought she looked like a scared rabbit.

A scared rabbit who'd been caught nonetheless.

"You're making this so hard for me."

He almost missed her words.

The snuffles came before the hyperventilating, and that's when Solomon came to her. Had he really been that horrible to petrify her in such a way?

He could figure that out as he went. For now, he needed to calm her down and figure out how to keep their union together. She was his ticket to Arcadia, to new knowledge. He wasn't going to lose her.

"Lilith, I-" he reached out to put a hand on her shoulder.

She smacked it away and quickly turned on her heels to look him dead in the eye. A new sense of fire in her eyes.

“I’m not Lilith.”

#ruewrites #TaBoL #obey me #obey me solomon #obey me asmodeus #obey me lucifer #obey me diavolo #obey me simeon #solodeus #asmosolo #soloasmo #asmodeus x solomon #dialuci #diavolo x lucifer #arranged marriage!au #royalty!au #slow burn

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cinaja · 5 years ago

Note

any word on how btw!rhys becomes super extra shitty canon!rhys? 👀👀👀

Ohhh yes, lots of words!

So, there's little on btw!Rhys in the actual story (because I cut out his pov, because I couldn't stand writing him as somewhat nice), but basically, during his youth, it's considered cool for young Fae nobles to be very progressive in their mindset and with their plans for how they want to rule. It kind of goes hand-in-hand with the War. Everyone wants to change the world, abolish the class system, create equality. Basically, every Fae noble under 100 wants to be like Drakon. This never quite makes it into the story becuse the protagonists are all far more concerned with actually winning the War.

But well, Rhys is in the fortunate position of being friends with the people who are (without really noticing) at the head of this movement. This friendship is more of an accident (the only reason Miryam and the others ever noticed Rhys was that he is Mor's cousin, and close to their age, and they are never quite as close as Rhys later likes to pretend. They certainly aren't as equal. Miryam, Jurian and Drakon are arguably the most important people in the Alliance, each the best in their areas. Miryam started the war and led the Alliance. Even Mor, emissary to the Night Court and friend to all of them, held indefinitely more power than Rhys. He was just a common commander. But oh, how he liked to pretend he was just like them.) But anyways, Rhys enjoys the standing this gives him. He also kind of enjoys feeling rebellious against his father - being friends with people he hates, part of a movement that goes against everything he believes, is the very definition of rebellion for Rhys.

After the War is over, Rhys keeps the pro-equality mindset, partially because it annoys his father, partially because being able to say "I was friends with Miryam and Drakon" gives him a certain amount of standing (and oh, does he hate to always be only a footnote in their story), and partially because he genuinely believes in equality. However, his actions never quite match his mindset. Even during the War, he didn't try to earn the respect of the Illyrians he was to lead, didn't try to compromise and work with them, he commanded them through force. And after the War, the "blunt force" approach continues on. He never goes to university to the Continent, never learns their way of looking at things, he stays in Prythian and studies under his father, learns his way of ruling.

And then, about 150 years after the War, Rhysand's father dies and he becomes High Lord. Rhys mourns his family, but he also rejoices at finally, finally becoming High Lord, finally having real power. And oh, is he going to use it. (To his credit, he genuinely wants to be better than his father was.)

One of the first things he does is to visit Miryam and Drakon on Cretea (a visit only possible now that his father is dead). By that time, things on Cretea are working somewhat smoothly, and Rhys is... well, somewhat amazed. But above all, he decides that he is going to do better. (Outdoing Miryam and Drakon is something Rhys, whether he admits it or not, always wanted. 150 years of being a footnote, a friend to people who were so much more, now he is going to be the one to make history.)

He thinks he can do it, too. In his mind, he was always better than Drakon, who is largely the one responsible for making things on Cretea work. Rhys learned to value brute strength, cunningness and manipulation. Drakon doesn't have any of that, so in Rhysand's mind, it is clear that he is going to be better. (As for Miryam... well, Rhys always enjoyed being the most powerful and the smartest person in the room. With Miryam around, he was neither and even though she is the only reason he survived the war, a part of him always resented that.) So Rhys brushes off Drakon's offer for help, advice, anything he might need, and returns to the Night Court. Not without first boasting about all he is going to achieve.

The first thing he does is appoint his cousin and his two Illyrian brothers as members of his Inner Circle. When the other advisors disagree, he fires them. The Hewn City rises up in opposition. Rhysand, all brute strength (just like his father taught him), kills the rebels. Murder, as usual, doesn't lead to peace. He turns to the Illyrians. Not a hint of understanding, not a negotiation, he orders them to change their entire culture in a day. Women are to train. No more wing-clipping. Bastards no longer thrown out into the snow. (All good ideas, but none quite as easy as Rhys likes to think.) Within a months, the Illyrians rallied forces in opposition. Who is he to give them orders, this man who got so many of them killed in the War? ("But I put two of yours in charge," Rhys insists, thinking it representation and ignoring that the Illyrians never chose Azriel and Cassian to lead them.) Rhys, once again, answers with violence. Kills the leaders, forces the rest back into their camps. His next attempt to change things in the Hewn City (end forced marriages, give rights to women and servants) goes equally awry. Another rebellion, more deaths.

By the time it is over, Rhys is done. He signs a treaty with Keir, allowing him to largely govern himself. Pulls Mor back from the Continent where she worked as emissary and puts her in charge of the Hewn City. (Relationships with the Continent, previously good, get worse and worse. Mor, who had been friends with so many of the Continental leaders in the War, who had learned their ways, was respected amongst Continental royalty. The new emissary isn't.) Rhys bans wing clipping for the Illyrians, but goes back on all other demands.

The Night Court, he decides, cannot be governed with a soft hand. He keeps his Court of Dreams (oh, how ironic the name has become) and Velaris, spends most of his time in his City of Starlight where he can pretend to be the ruler he always wanted to be. He becomes, although he will deny it to his last day, just like his father was. Cold. Cruel. Uncaring.

He comes up with excuses, millions of excuses. He did his best. He could never have succeeded. Miryam and Drakon did it, but the Seraphim were always more open-minded than the Illyrians. They had the advantage of peace, of being isolated from the ouside, on their side. They didn't have to reform a corrupt court. If they'd been in his place, they would have failed as well. They had it easier. He knows, deep down, that they didn't.

He never returns to Cretea, forbids Mor from going. (Too risky, he claims. The truth is that if he goes, he won't be able to keep up his lies. Deep down, knows all too well that he never had it harder, that his way of ruling is wrong.) Nothing can ever be allowed to shatter his illusion. Some days, he even believes it himself.

Amarantha happens. Excuses upon excuses for actions he knows to be inexcusable. Most people think him crueller than his father now. Amarantha gets killed. Another rebellion, another swath of his own subjects he murders for treason. (He never learned to compromise, to listen. Never understood that rebellion doesn't happen without reason.)

Hybern's threat looms on the Continent and Mor suggests they go to Cretea, ask for help. It would be the logical course of action. It would mean an army far larger than their own, and a chance to rally the Continent. (It would mean having to explain 350 years of silence. All the blood on his hands. It would mean needing to explain the Illyrians and the Hewn City and the fact that he is just like his father. Having to explain that he married a girl of nineteen. He thinks Drakon might believe him he is wrong, but then, as he usually is, but Miryam was never one for excusing inexcusable deeds.) "They wished to remain hidded", he lies, thinking that he should at least be able to win this one war on his own.

When he looks at Tarquin, young and honest, full of plans he will surely manage to get to work, he thinks of Drakon. More excuses. "Tarquin with his neutral court will always have it easier," he says to Feyre. And she believes him. She looks at him and sees a good person in him. She believes his excuses, his carefully spun lies. She thinks he is good, and that anyone who says otherwise is wrong. He loves her for it.

During the charade that is the meeting with the queens, he has Feyre play Miryam (a young woman with ties to both the humans and the Fae, with unusual powers. He makes her emissary on top of it, thinking it's the closest he can come). Another War, that's the image he wants to send. He is going to unite humans and Fae, he will rally the Continent. Neither works. (He never understood.) The war effort crashes and burns around him. He can barely unite Prythian. But Feyre is there, worshiping him like a god, believing his every lie, never noticing all the ways he failed. His friends are there, backing him up. And he is fighting for the right thing, isn't he? Surely that makes him a good person. Deep down, he knows it doesn't.

#cinaja talks about before the wall #lyn

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chibivesicle · 4 years ago

Text

Golden Kamuy chapters 269-270. The cliff notes meta edition.

This will be a less detailed meta as I’ve just been spread too thin recently and the current events of the manga have been underwhelming to me, making it harder to engage with the content.

Having an online presence has been a double-edged sword for me and as we mark 1 year of pandemic life, it is hard for me to invest as much time in it since I have to do so many more things online for work. Sitting down to write meta isn’t as fun and relaxing as it once was when you have 7 zoom meetings over the course of several days. Add on the fact that I have not left the county were I live since February 2020 nor I have a seen any of my family or friends . . . yeah writing meta isn’t a much of a priority. As an aside, I think more people need to be stating that being ‘productive’ and ‘leveling up’ during these times is either unrealistic and even more damaging by creating completely unrealistic expectations of how we should respond to things.

[steps off of soapbox]

Chapter 269, quickly shows us how the chaos that Tsurumi unleashed on the divided Ainu resulted in a tragedy and Wilk is the only one who managed to survive the massacre.

Tsurumi is able to sort out that there were eight Ainu, and that Wilk staged his own death by working quickly to conceal the identity of the dead partially by removing the eyes.

Kikuta is the first one to find the man who dies soon after discovery and Tsurumi seems to be in awe of Wilk’s escape plan.

KIkuta also shows he’s a more empathetic individual worried about how they contributed to the death of Ariko’s father. Did Tsurumi push Kikuta away after the war since he knew Kikuta would feel bad about doing the ‘things’ needed to be done for the gold?

It further highlights that Usami and Kikuta were never on the same page. I do like how the following page shows both Kikuta and Ariko continuing to tie the narrative that Kikuta feels a connection with the younger man. Shiraishi and Sugimoto spot Ariko, calling him Ariko Ipopte, which is an interesting choice to use a hybrid name for him. Kikuta uses his full Japanese name, while these men use a mix.

The final panel showing a reflective looking Kikuta walking alone in the rain really emotional connects with the grief surrounding all of this unnecessary death. Tsurumi sought to be a leader of men by giving them love and being the stand in father for them. I think that Kikuta is the character who is the natural and honest father figure - we know he has a deep relationship with Ariko and we also know he has some sort of connection to Sugimoto.

Tsurumi continues his ‘discussion’ of events with Asirpa and Sofia. Tsurumi has such a complicated relationship with Wilk. He’s both in awe of the man’s determination to survive but at the same time he wanted him destroyed at such a great cost.

Tsurumi really lays on the guilt to Asirpa that Wilk did everything to protect her - under the assumption that she’d be unfairly treated if her father had killed all of those men. Perhaps that is the case, perhaps not. It seems contradictory to his own actions where he gave Ogin and the Lighting Bandit’s child to Huci to care for it. He has this weird approach to the impact of the ‘sins of the parents’ on the child . . .

Tsurumi doggedly pursues Wilk and they immediately recognize each other and he flees onto the lake with his canoe. By shooting at Wilk, he forces him to capsize the canoe and items sink down into the lake. Honestly, I’m not sure what Tsurumi was hoping to achieve by this - make him swim so that he could capture him more easily. We don’t know how skilled Tsurumi is with a rifle and I’d be more concerned about killing Wilk and loosing the information. It seems reckless in my opinion since the ultimate outcome was Wilk appealing to Inudou thus achieving protection from the 7th.

I think Tsurumi was fueled and blinded by his emotions which only made things more complicated and drew the hunt for the gold out even longer (to the present time).

The rest of the chapter explains how Kiro felt. First, the grief at the loss of Wilk, trying to move on my having a family, but ultimately coming back to realize that Wilk was still alive after the war. Really, Wilk underestimated Kiro’s intelligence since he figured out that Kimuspu was the seventh man, not Wilk. As a Kiro fan, I of course favor him, but he really showed he’s a good leader and actually willing to take risks. What is most important is that having a family only lead him to want to fight for them - even more.

Kiro sees the flaw in Wilk’s plan of Hokkaido as an independent unit as a place for various native peoples, while ignoring all of the logistical issues that Kiro already pointed out to him previously. The Far Eastern Federation has the flaw that it is connected by land to Russia, but would me much harder to lay siege to. But Hokkaido as an island could easily be cut off - and with not much industry within itself, you still can’t do a whole lot with all of those raw materials if you can get industrial technologies from elsewhere. If it were blockaded they’d be screwed. Sure, you wouldn’t starve, but you wouldn’t be able to advance quickly. All that gold and nowhere to spend it.

Thus, Kiro believed he was acting in regard to their original goals and had no choice but to remove Wilk from the equation. As Wilk had become the very wolf that he had observed as a child and played with its pelt. That is some next level foreshadowing by Noda, if I do say so.

In the end, Kiro remained much more committed to their fight as partisans than Wilk did. You have to give it to him, he stuck to his original plans and he died believing he did the right thing. Now, looking back at how upset Sofia was when she first saw Kiro, we know why she slapped him in the first place. I’ll take it to mean that she was upset by Kiro’s actions but at the same time understood what he did. But then Sofia let it go, as she would soon go on to also speak fondly of Wilk and his desire to be like the wolves. Therefore, I don’t think Sofia was completely angry with Kiro, instead she knew the decision that was made and perhaps, she too, would have understood that there were divided in their goals once they moved on with their lives.

The next chapter starts off with the bottle mobile boys and Ariko on horseback as they determine what to do next. Sugimoto is amazingly still not rushing in like a maniac which is out of character for him. Are you okay Sugimoto? Or have your encounters with Kikuta and Boutarou begun to have an impact on you without being aware of it?

The settle on letting Ariko go ahead, even though he doesn’t answer their question. I’d say he doesn’t have a clue what side he is on. He likely cares about Kikuta. But he wants to see Asirpa succeed since he feels ashamed by his own approach towards life in Hokkaido as an Ainu.

Off he goes alone to figure out how to rescue Asirpa. Really, a terrible idea since sure he’s a tough guy, but we don’t know what his fighting skills are like in the first place. . . . At least he isn’t a hothead, so sending him in alone will be less of a disaster than Sugimoto.

The action returns to Tsurumi trying to turn up the heat on Asirpa. She asks him about Kiro’s fingerprints at the crime scene - a lie that Tsurumi fed to Inkarmat to get her to help him. He writes it off as him doing a good thing for her - she closed a chapter of her life - then again - he doesn’t know that Koito let Tanigaki and Inkarmat escape. The next several pages are a slow psychological technique that builds up to Tsurumi reveling that the bullet that killed Fina and Olga had been from Wilk’s pistol. Dum da duuum!

So, according to Tsurumi it is Wilk’s fault all those Ainu died. That he should have never left Russia for Japan. That even his time in Russia resulted in Fina and Olga’s deaths. Everything is Wilk’s fault!

This page ends with how Tsukishima let go of the woman he had loved and his memory of her - yet Tsurumi kept the bullet and the finger bones of his family! We can see that Tsukishima is barely holding it together, so upset by this knowledge!

As a master manipulator of people, Tsurumi thanks Sofia for what she has contributed to the story - he can help her feel better by telling her that she did not kill his wife and child. . . . on no, he only uses it as a way to add even more pressure on Asirpa!

To Tsurumi, Asirpa is no child, she is the direct tie to all of his anger and pain and his twisted soul.

I mean, he kept Wilk’s skinned face and he’s using it to get her to break! What is more interesting is after the initial shock, Sofia quickly regains her calm while Asirpa - well she’s clearly buying into Tsurumi’s explanation of things.

She is thinking about how her father ‘turned’ Tsurumi into the person he is before her . . . . I’d be willing to say that Wilk influenced Tsurumi - as much as Tsurumi influenced Wilk. Yet, Tsurumi as a human being is responsible for his decisions and he alone can respond to them in a constructive or destructive way. It is clear Tsurumi went for the latter.

Sofia’s calm in this pressure situation is clear as she asks him if it was for revenge. She’s a smart woman and has lived long enough to see these types of things through.

Tsukishima is ready to kill Tsurumi - it would make him a hypocritical leader - having him let go of his own earthly attachments only to serve a man bent on revenge. Koito is listening closely as well, unsure of how he’s going to respond.

Tsurumi makes it clear he could have killed Asirpa any number of times. I think this is another case of Tsurumi playing a verbal slight of hand. He’s asked if he’s doing this out of revenge, and his answer is - I haven’t killed her yet. Gee, based on how messed up you are Tsurumi, we both know that there is more than one way to take revenge. Killing someone in retribution is one way to take revenge or the worse way - make their life a living hell. It is clear that Tsurumi is going for the second one to break Asirpa.

There is a dramatic two page spread as he explains that he is doing this for Japan - and the implied increasing militaristic activities of the late Meiji government to expand their domain.

If feels - like a performance to me as a reader. The pages are remarkably light in tone giving it an optimistic and feeling of purity. Yet, Tsurumi is a broken and corrupt man . . . cruel in his intentions. He only says this as a way to combat anyone who were to contradict him . . . .

It is too perfect - too convenient - too good for Koito and Tsukishima to believe in my own opinion. As both of the men seem relived to have heard these very words as a type of closing statement.

Tsukishima looks relived that Tsurumi is continuing on the behalf of all of their fallen comrades and families. Again, this sounds too perfect like Tsurumi’s speech isn’t for Asirpa nor Sofia, it is for Koito and Tsukishima who are eavesdropping. Since Tsurumi is a next level planner/manipulator he likely came up with this well rehearsed speech to placate all issues around his inability to move on from his family’s death. It makes him look mature and that he’d moved on from his more basic human needs.

Koito looks like he’s trying really hard to believe Tsurumi and how Tsurumi’s words would comfort Tsukishima. But is that how you really feel Koito? That face looks - so - fake. Like Koito is overdoing it again and is actually unsure how to react. So, he he looks elated, Tsukishima will feel better - or something.

What I really want to know is why they are just there hiding and watching Tsurumi? If they are wanting to think independently and beyond Tsurumi why do it while hiding? It seems no matter what either man may think, they are still under Tsurumi’s thumb as far as how they react to his behavior and the current events.

And I’m gonna have to hold things here while I find a way to read the more recent chapters with non-shady software to decompress the files since I’ve been using Mangadex the entire time I’ve been reading GK (in addition to the english versions of previous chapters).

#golden kamuy #golden kamuy meta #asirpa #tsukishima hajime #koito otonoshin #kiroranke #tsurumi tokushirou #sofia #wilk #sugimoto saichi #Shiraishi Yoshitake #warrant officer kikuta #ariko rikimatsu

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tanoraqui · 5 years ago

Note

I am a huge sucker for one character being chill about a situation while everyone else is freaking out, so if you’re up to it would you tell us about This Is Normal?

@tolrais asked: Sizhui genii locorum!

okay so i must disappoint bc that wasn’t actually a jesting “This Is Normal” - let’s talk genii locorum, known more commonly in the singular: genius loci, the “intellects of [the] place”. In this case: what if it was perfectly common that if cultivation was practiced in roughly the same way in roughly the exact same place, by roughly the same bloodline, for long enough, power built up in the land itself? Power and something resembling thought, in the slow way of geography? (That’s why it tends to attach to a bloodline - individual humans, even cultivators, disappear so fast on a geological scale.)

Say that each generation, the land picks a favorite to bestow its power to - one person, one generation, at a time, only. Others of the blood may access it, but to a far lesser degree. Petty effects. More if the land is partial to them. The true wielder of the land is, of course, traditionally the sect leader - and if they’re not at first, they’re probably gonna be appointed as such.

Say the powers are elemental, roughly, Say their personalities are shaped by the land itself - lakes or mountains, hills or plains - and the continuous philosophy of those who cultivate (upon) them. They choose their favorites based on who most matches what they are, and the strongest sect leaders are those with the greatest affinity for their land.

Or, lemme put it like this:

Lan Wangji was always GusuLan’s favorite, unwavering and fastidious, aloof and righteous and eternal as the cool mountain peaks. Its cool shrouded him; its ice turned Bichen’s edge even sharper. Even though he was far away in a land of fire, it flowed to him like a high-speed glacier when his father died - and he, panicking and desperate, denied it.

It wasn’t the refusal that turned it away - though it’s true, one must actively accept a land’s power; it cannot be forced upon a person. But usually, in such a dispute, the wouldn’t-be recipient dies - in a fight between one human and an entire countryside over that human’s soul, it is acceptance or destruction. Instead, it was...well, the fact of refusal. The fact that he broke, that his gut instinct - resolute as ever - was the shirking of responsibility. That, GusuLan could not tolerate. It didn’t press the issue to destruction, because Lan Wangji wasn’t its chosen after all.

There was nothing, to be clear, wrong with Lan Xichen. He was a little warmer, but still beautiful and distant. He would bend, but his core was upright and unfaltering. He followed the rules to the letter. He was even closer, physically - and in that little cabin in which he was sleeping, hidden, he woke sharply from a restless sleep as the air around him turned to welcome ice.

Or like this:

Jiang Cheng was never YunmengJiang’s first choice. He wasn’t even its second choice. The lakes of YunmengJiang - bright and warm with sunlight, loud with the chatter of market crowds, sweet and beautiful with lotus seeds and petals, all over drowning-dark depths...how could they not fall in love with the boy their Jiang Fengmian bought home? How could the water not leap to follow his every gesture, whenever he went out upon it?

(Except that when he first felt it pressing at him with not just curiosity but love, he thought of Madam Yu’s clenched fist and Jiang Cheng’s yearning gaze, and he shoved it away as hard and fast as he could.)

Failing that, how could they not adore their eldest daughter, sweet and kind and welcoming to all, and protective enough to wield words like deadly blades? Once the land is cultivated to its own sentience, it doesn’t need to be a cultivator who bears its power...

(Except it does still need to be someone whose heart the doctors don’t worry over every time she does something more spiritually strenuous than meditate. And she cannot stay, she’ll explain one day, weeping, on a boat she’s rowed out to the middle of the lake herself. If it was just a matter of love - but they also need the alliance, or Lotus Pier, Yunmeng, YunmengJiang itself might be lost - )

So. Jiang Cheng wears all his deadliness on the surface and all his joy and welcome deep beneath, and YunmengJiang is the opposite. But at least he stays. Land moves on a geological time, and YunmengJiang more than most loves all its people, not just a select family. It can leap readily to the will of someone who stays and looks after them.

Or:

Agreement was universal that Nie Mingjue was a perfect bearer of QingheNie, mighty and stern and stubborn as the mountain granite. As tall, too, some would joke. It’s traditional for a Sect Leader to wear at all times a symbol of their land’s blessing - Lan Xichen’s headdresses always sparkle with a thin coating of ice; a lightly jeweled hip flask has been passed from Jiang to Jiang in which to hold lakewater. Upon taking title and land from his father, Nie Mingjue wears a circlet of rock on his brow, hard stone crafted with his own hands as though molding clay.

Agreement was equally universal that Nie Huaisang was possibly the worst bearer of QingheNie in the clan’s entire history. Flighty where he should be staunch and stern, barely able (much less willing) to lift a blade, as flappable as one of his fans...as Sect Leader, he set a chunk of granite into the base of each one of those silly fans, but it was a public secret that the stone had been carved and smoothed by a stoneworker, not the Headshaker.

The mountains of Qinghe shook with grief on the day Nie Mingjue died, as they had for his father; grief and rage. The Unclean Realm itself shifted and nearly collapsed in several places - some of its famous defensibility came from being set into the mountainside itself, the back halls giving way to twisting tunnels running through the rock. Can you imagine how long one fighter with a saber can hold a single slim tunnel? Hidden ways, their secrets known only to the inhabitants; the deeper an enemy goes, the less likely they are to come out...

A single chip of granite launched across the room with fury can drive through a man’s eye and into his brain, killing him instantly, even with a fan trailing behind. Fortunately, it never needed to come to anything that gauche.

(It would have preferred Nie Mingjue, it really would, but even more than GusuLan, the last thing QingheNie has ever done is falter.)

So...

If the Burial Mounds had once been cultivated to a benevolent sentience and their power then corrupted, it’s been forgotten. But resentful and spiritual energy are two sides of the same coin, and the Burial Mounds yearn for company, for lives to call their own, just like any other land...but what sort of person has enough rage, vengeance, heartache, and loss to match them? Who could have enough strength of spirit to bear the touch of a land whose elemental power is death itself?

Trick question, we all know the answer to that.

Good thing we got him, too, because defeating Wen Ruohan at the heart of the volcano he commands is a bitch and a half. (He wears a jagged crown of obsidian glass and Nie Mingjue will walk away with a burn on his face from the man’s touch.)

LanlingJin’s power is invested in light. Their Sect Leaders - or in Jin Ling’s case, Sect Heirs - carry a lantern at one hip, representative more than anything (one cannot cage light.) Or, you know, they just lowkey glow all the time - but that’s not convenient on a night hunt; you need something coverable. Jin Ling would have inherited it from his father, but instead it came directly from - you know, I so, so want to say his grandmother? But I don’t think Meng Yao, Jin Guangyao, would turn out quite the same were Jin Guangshan not exactly as Sect Leader as he in canon, and I’m loath to say Jin Sect is, like, particularly sexist or something to let both be true. So, grandfather it is, unfortunately.

Jin Guangyao is jealous, but Jin Guangyao has too many secrets for bright LanlingJin. Maybe it would twist to suit him, with another couple generations dark and poisoned beneath the pretty lights, but not yet. Not even with how easily it’s gift can flow into illusions. Fortunately, LanlingJin is also the most gentle of the Great Sect Lands - perhaps weak, with how its family has been failing it, recently, in their stated intent. So Jin Ling can withstand its sudden flood even at the ripe age of two and a half.

It makes up for a little, for Jin Ling to have no memory of a time when he didn’t have the fierce, warm, bright affection of a coastal tower, busy city, and sun-drenched skies curled possessively around his soul. YunmengJiang bristles at the intrusion and mourns another loss (oh, YunmengJiang...at least it’s in accord with Jiang Cheng); and LanlingJin doesn’t like that its favorite so often strays so far. But family is important, both lands can reluctantly agree (in the manner of circling tigers, wary and territorial, thoughts not quite human.) They both want him loved.

...oh yeah, I was supposed to talk about Lan Sizhui, wasn’t I.

GusuLan would love that boy. It does love him, in its cold, discreet way. But it’s...complicated. It’s not Lan Sizhui’s fault. (Of the three, this is very much the AU least about Lan Sizhui.)

It’s the second battle of the Burial Mounds, as the second horde of corpses approaches. Wei Wuxian paces, mutters to Lan Wangji, "If I still had the land...but I don't know where it is. I can't hear it at all. I don't understand it."

This is not how Lan Wangji wanted to do this - though in fairness, he had no idea what would be a non-awkward way. He still doesn’t. Just a little louder than to be an answer to Wei Wuxian, he says, "Lan Sizhui."

"Yes, Huangang-jun?" The boy is at his elbow in an instant

Lan Wangji turns a little to include him in the conversation. He'd be gesturing if he was a man who made unnecessary motions. "Lan Yuan."

"Yes?" he repeats.

Wei Wuxian stares at the both blankly.

"A-Yuan," Lan Wangji clarifies. He draws his guqin but he can't quite make eye contact with either of them.

Wei Wuxian gasps. He cups Lan Sizhui's very baffled cheeks (except something is a little familiar...) and peers at his face, turning it this way and that to check for familiar features. He peers deeper in a way that would be stunningly rude in anyone else (it’s still stunningly rude; they’ve all just come to expect that of Wei Wuxian) and likely impossible if there wasn't a shared affinity for what he seeks - but the bond is distant, so distant. Buried, smothered, bound.

(Lan Yuan, now Sizhui, has always felt like there was something he was missing, something he couldn't remember that was just out of reach. He thought it was the concept of parents or something like that, or maybe just a natural ennui that everyone had and didn’t speak of for propriety’s sake. He discarded it, because of course he had everything he could ever want.)

"A-Yuan..." Wei Wuxian looks at Lan Wangji, wondering, smoldering with love - and just the tiniest bit of reproach.

Lan Wangji looks away. It's a terrible thing to block someone off from their spiritual power, and it's a worse thing yet to block them off from the any power of a land they may bear. One is an insult to an individual, the other to the earth itself, almost as heretical as demonic cultivation. Su She, of course, has done both today, but only temporarily...and that’s a low bar to which to be compared.

But there was too much roiling in Wen Yuan when Lan Wangji found him, death and -

(You know what, I can’t decide: Did QishanWen’s smoldering lava pass to Wen Qing when no one closer was available, ceaseless fire matching ceaseless fire? Or were the Dafan Wens sufficiently distinct for long enough, far enough, that she was already taken? Is there DafanWen in its own right, high hills with the power of growth, from dainty flowers to ancient trees, twisting vines to healing herbs?

...yes, I think so.

But I also think they were close enough in blood, had spent enough time in the heart of the Nightless City, for some inheritance. So the reason no one stepped forward, at the Yiling Patriarch’s demand, to admit to killing Wen Ning was that...Wen Ning knew he was too weak, insufficiently greedy/ambitious for things to burn and build anew; he knew QishanWen was too quenched and dormant after its defeat to the Sunshot Alliance, and he was too far away and it was literally raining. He knew that to fight back would only bring pain down on more of their people. But even so, there was no one to step forward, because the man who dealt the killing blow burned screaming to ashes.

There were sparks left in the souls of each member of the blood left alive, but not enough to burst to flame. With that last death, QishanWen lay...dormant.)

(Until, maybe, almost all the rest of them were killed in the space of about 10 minutes. That must’ve sent a couple sparks flying.,,)

- so there was too much roiling in Wen Yuan when Lan Wangji found him. Verdant DafanWen was barely settled, still reeling from the loss of its favored daughter, the best healer in three generations. QishanWen sparked with new loss and ire, driving a fever. And the Burial Mounds, whose touch was death...

It is possible, for two lands to share a host. Boundaries are a human invention; the Earth is all one thing. Pride and territorialism are taught. And even if those have set in, they can certainly fight, in the infinite space of a human soul.

And the Burial Mounds loved that child. He wasn’t raging, he wasn’t mourning (except he was just starting to, now); but he wasn’t scared of them. Why would be be? The dead things that roamed it belonged to his Xian-gege; the living were his family; this land was his home.

But the Burial Mounds’ was the power of death itself, and A-Yuan wasn’t a teenager filled with enough determination to burn down the sun, he was three years old and scared. The extremely forbidden hasty ritual to (not cut it off, to late for that) hide it, bind it, bury it - this wasn't just for concealment. It saved his life.

Back in the present day, Lan Wangji says this with reluctantly raised eyes, and Wei Wuxian nods. Because oh boy does he know about that roiling spirit of death.

There's a horde of corpses approaching; they don't have time to be tender.

"A-Yuan," says Wei Wuxian, swiping a thumb over his cheek as though to clear away a tear, and then dropping his hand. "Lan Sizhui, you trust us, right?"

"Of course?" Lan Sizhui glances uncertainly at Lan Wangji, head aching with memories about to surface.

Lan Wangji nods imperceptibly and starts to play - and it only takes a few strong chords, precisely chosen. It's always easier to break a wall than build it.

It's in QishanWen's nature to erupt but it's weak, dormant; it hasn't been home in over a decade and this boy has been trained to ice, not fire. It’s in DafanWen’s nature to flourish but it, too, is far from the earth of its body, and this is a place of death, not life.

They are in the Burial Mounds, fifty steps from the blood pool that may as well be its heart. So the volcano stays dormant the grassy hills are quiet as ever, and the raging, too-long-stifled spirit of the Burial Mounds pours forth in whirling shadows that double Lan Sizhui's height. He gasps a scream at the weight of the sudden flood, at the tearing sensation in his soul (tearing open in a way that is right - last child of a dead clan remembering; lost child of a dead land coming home.) Several other people scream and point at the family meeting that had previously gone mostly unnoticed, in a corner of a Demon Suppression Cave. What is the Yiling Patriarch doing to that Lan disciple?!

The Burial Mounds are starting to turn on their only-just-realized child, whether they mean it or not, because their nature is death to all they touch. The Yiling Patriarch is standing forth, spreading his arms, and shouting, "Hey, jackass! Get back in here, we have more vengeance to wreak!"

The cultivation world watches (Lan Wangji catches a staggering Lan Sizhui) as with a sound like the rushing wind, shifting earth, screaming dead, it pours back into Wei Wuxian.

It’s just like before. It’s rage and pain and loss and vengeance and heartache. It’s Madam Yu’s hard eyes and the way Jiang Fengmian’s face shuttered when he heard the Core-Melting Hand was in Lotus Pier, before he even shoved them back in the boat; it’s Wen Ning’s broken form and Jin Zixuan’s, not fifty feet and ten months apart; it’s Wen Qing’s soft, I’m sorry, and thank you, and Jiang Yanli’s blood dripping down his arm. It’s the crack as the Tiger Seal shattered in his hand, or was that his own neck...

Wei Wuxian might be laughing, as he greets death like an old friend. But when he opens his eyes, it’s to a soft, “Wei Ying,” on the lips of his...Lan Zhan. Mourning whites sullied with the Burial Mounds’ (Wei Wuxian’s) dirt and blood. He’s holding up Lan Sizhui - A-Yuan, their son - and maybe Wei Wuxian is closer to a land spirit than human right now, or maybe he’s just hallucinating, but he swears he can see leaves uncurling behind the boy’s wide eyes. Wen Qing would be proud - if they get out of here alive, he’ll grow the most amazing things.

#15strawberri3s #mdzs #the untamed #ficlet #man idk i just think they're neat #my fic #i'll probably collect these on ao3 later #@tumblr I DIDN'T USE BULLET POINTS ARE YOU HAPPY YOU ASSHOLE

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lavendairs · 4 years ago

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♚ ━━━ ❛ ALL ABOUT AUGUST.

G E N E R A L —

NAME. his full birth name is august ahn-evergreene, his last names being a combination of his maternal and paternal last names because his mother wasn’t going to allow her children to not have her last name in some fashion. however, in his twenties he drops evergreene and only uses ahn as his last name due to a rift with his mother / wanting an identity separate from her ( he’s not fond of his father either but he has a habit of leaving town so it’s easier for august to distance himself from that part of his family’s ‘legacy’ ).

AGE. he appears in his late 20s ( 27-30 ) but is around 60 years old due to the extended lifespan of a mage.

HEIGHT. he stands at 6′1 ( 185.42 ). no, he’s not a sloucher and is the type to internally judge people who do because stand up straight wtf?

WEIGHT. 170 pounds ( 77.1kg ). he’s lean and not overly muscular; doesn’t do much heavy physical activity anymore due to his current ‘condition’.

ETHNICITY. korean-filipino american mage. he comes from a bloodline of magic-users. if commenting on his natural magical prowess, expect a dry ‘of course, i was breed to be.’ in response.

OCCUPATION. he is what the people of crescent creek call ‘the overseer’, the highest sitting member of the council of novema ( or just ‘the council’ for short ). they are the ones who ‘govern’ the town and its people, establishing laws and stepping in to resolve high-level matters between residents if it should come to it. with the council needing to hear matters from the magi, vampires, fae, werewolves, and other beings, august has a constant headache.

GENDER. cis-male.

SEXUAL & ROMANTIC ORIENTATION. he would state that he’s heterosexual but admittedly he’s never fully explored his sexuality enough for that to be a definite statement. he hasn’t seriously dated in a very long time™ and it isn’t interested in changing that.

MBTI. INTJ-A, The Architect — it can be lonely at the top. as one of the rarest personality types – and one of the most capable – architects ( INTJs ) know this all too well. rational and quick-witted, architects may struggle to find people who can keep up with their nonstop analysis of everything around them. these personalities can be both the boldest of dreamers and the bitterest of pessimists. architects believe that, through willpower and intelligence, they can achieve even the most challenging of goals. but they may be cynical about human nature more generally, assuming that most people are lazy, unimaginative, or simply doomed to mediocrity.

S P E C I F I C S —

FAVOURITE FOOD. he’s very particular about getting his three meals a day in if he can but he probably has the most fondest for food that was often served at dinner time with his family or when all his cousins spent time at his lola’s house when they visited her. dishes such as bopis, kimchi, pancit canton, tocino and rice, korean styled steak, etc. are personal favorites.

FAVOURITE DRINK. his day isn’t complete without having a nice, chilled glass of vintage red wine during dinner ( and maybe just drinking straight from the bottle by the end of the night ). he does enjoy drinking rosé during a nice breakfast or lunch depending on the bottle.

FAVOURITE HOBBY. brooding. joking aside, he does enjoy sparring matches, ‘magical’ based sparring matches. he does practice taekkyeon ( korean martial arts ) and enjoys mixing spells in by shocking opponents, blocking their spells with his own wards, etc.

FAVOURITE SCENT. the smell of freshly cut grass as well as the scent of pomegranates, vanilla, cinnamon, and musk. the former is bittersweet and nostalgic, reminding of his years as a teen: when he was young, oblivious, and only had to be concerned about being late to football / soccer practice. the latter reminds him of someone he would rather forget.

FAVOURITE PERSON. i. his twin brother, ansel ahn. his death still hurts and he’ll always partially blame himself for it - despite the fact that there would’ve been nothing he could’ve done to change it. ( this is the part where that wand.avision quote is inserted in ). the loss of his brother dramatically changes the course of his life. ii. his lola, nora evergreene. she grounds him a lot. one of the few times he’s at peace is when he visits her for brunch every third saturday of the month. iii. his ex, audrey cramer. he would never admit it out loud though - at least not anymore.

T E N F A C T S —

he’s well versed in magical creatures : one of the 'gifts’ of being the overseer is the ability to traverse pass the veil - a barrier / entry way that exist between ‘earth’ and the many dimensions that exist beyond it. this ability, however, is one that has fallen out of use over the past few decades. ever the abnormally, august makes use of this ability for his own personal agenda. outside of the different races that already live within crescent creek ( witches, vampires, werewolves, fairies, etc. ), there are those that prefer to live freely in their own worlds rather than live in secrecy on earth. so yes, he has met unicorns and he thinks most of them are actually assholes.

on the nature of the veil : the origin of the veil itself is a mystery. all that is known that about its existence is that many millennium ago, those from different dimensions ( or ‘worlds’ ) were able to freely pass through it without the need of assistance or a spell. as time progressed and humanity began to rise, passage through the veil became increasingly more restricted, leading to entry ways within the veil being sealed and only accessible through the leader in each world ( ex. the overseer in crescent creek ). although the town of crescent creek has always traded with other towns, cities, etc. pass the veil, many of those trades have slowed to a stop entirely as those dimensions have become inaccessible. to somewhat ease panic and concern, the council has framed the issue being due to other dimensions permanently closing themselves off from earth ( a situation that has previously happened some worlds ). in truth, the veil itself has become 'infected’ by a foreign spell that’s led to the blocking of entry ways that lead into other worlds. due to not knowing the source of the spell and its affect on the veil, the knowledge of its presence is unknown to most people in crescent creek. // note: this is more of an overall ‘lore’ fact that explains the backdrop of what’s going on in this ‘world’ to understand other facts about him. in the grand scheme of things, this wouldn’t come up when interacting with him.

he doesn’t believe in astrologists, psychics, fortune tellers, etc. : which may seem contradictory considering he’s a literal magical being but in his experience, it’s typically humans pushing pseudoscience or mages using their magic to con clueless humans. people in that line of ‘work’ are hacks to him - especially since he’s seen it first hand with his own father’s profession.

over the past twenty years, he’s been continuing his brother’s research : ansel, his older, twin brother, had been studying the distortions within the veil in secret before his death a decade prior. although the status of the veil was supposed to be concealed to those outside of the council’s reach, ansel confided in his brother before his death. in august’s eyes, whatever spell that’s taken over the veil is an active threat and with the backing of onyx crane, a vampire on the council, and his cousin, faye evergreene, he began an almost obsessive-like determination to complete his brother’s work and find answers - even if it’s to his own detriment. // *note: with a big soap opera trope being people returning from the dead, it shouldn’t be shocking to discover that ansel, is in fact, not actually dead. he used a storm that hit the town as a means to fake his own death ( disasters that kill off characters is usually a soap opera storyline that happens during ‘sweeps’ period ) and left town for his own agenda.

the youngest overseer to sit in the council : his status as the overseer is one steeped in controversy due to...a variety of reasons: an overseer typically is replaced by another council member by vote or an apprentice to the overseer should they have one after an overseer’s death, resignation, or if they’ve been forcefully discharged from the position. none of these things applied to august’s own mother, tala ahn-evergreene, when he usurped her - blackmailing the council by threatening to expose the truth about the current threat of the veil. // *note: in every ( american ) soap opera, it is a staple to have a ‘thing’, whether it be a business, a central institution in town ( ex. a hospital ), or a position ( CEO of a company, chief of staff at a hospital, etc. ) that many of the characters are tied to or even fighting for control over. ELQ, the quartermaine’s family business on general hospital, often have storylines where family members are fighting over shares of the company, who should run it, or the family teaming up to oust an outsider that’s taken over the company ( funnily enough, there is a story like the latter happening on the show right now ). the point here is that being the overseer or even sitting on the council of novema is that ‘thing’ that people fight over to be on for various reason.

he takes his personal upkeep very seriously : there’s a lot of things one could say about crescent creek’s current overseer but no one can ever say they’ve seen august ahn not look put together when he’s out and about ( this is him going out publicly basically ). as someone who values consistency and control in his life but pretty much never has it, august actually highly treasures the time spent doing his morning / nightly skincare routines, getting his acupuncture treatments, and so on. he supports the self care movement essentially.

he ( as well as his siblings ) once witnessed one of his father’s affairs : it was an awful experience. -10/10. doesn’t recommend. this incident shapes his attitude towards relationships in general and how he operates within them. august has a very black and white attitude about relationships: you are either with him 100% or you’re not with him at all. it’s unhealthy and he has to unpack that. // *fun fact: this is actually a real event that happened with this family back in the sims 2 over ten years ago - they just all had different names, were a different race, and so on at that point.. they’ve changed a lot:tm:.

may be an active suspect for murder : it happens. when marlena cramer, a former council member, suddenly passes on, the town is overtaken by a wave of a grief...that soon becomes shock and suspicion when her death is rules to be from unnatural causes. between being one of the last people to see her alive and reports of him wanting her off the council, august becomes one of the prime suspects for her murder case. // *note: whodunit’s are probably up there with ‘who’s the daddy’ storylines in terms of being the most common soap opera staple ( ex. who shot j.r. on dallas ).

voted most likely to be successful in his HS yearbook : august was the picture perfect prom king, the jock that was friends with everyone on campus, and the one everyone expected ride off into the sunset with his hs sweetheart. on paper, august was well rounded - some would say outright perfect. today, those who knew him in high school would shake their heads and ask themselves what happened to the boy who always smiled at them when he passed you by in the hallway or whose laughter could easily be heard the loudest in a classroom. august, as he is now, is a stranger to those that once knew him.

it’s happening gradually but he is, in fact, dying : many of the worlds that had become unaccessible were not only blocked off but were actively decaying - many of its residents fleeing to other worlds before they were forever trapped in a dying one while others locked their entry ways to stop the spell from spreading to their own homes. the overseers in crescent creek were restricted from traversing the veil themselves due to the unknown risk of the spell, a rule that august actively ignores. every time he travels through the veil, the more the spell slowly eats away at him - a fact that he is well aware of and he has no desire to stop. he will keep traveling worlds ( and helping those he can ) until he finds the source of the spell and kills its caster himself.

FIVE THINGS HE LIKES.

visiting the sauna. the heat helps with his internal pain.

eating home-cooked meals.

getting hydrafacials ( james_franco_so_good.gif ).

smoking with his cousin, faye.

blasting emo music as he gets drunk, questions his life choices, and stares at the ceiling

FIVE THINGS HE DISLIKES.

feeling used.

disloyal / uncommitted people

selfishness.

tough, chewy steak.

cheap wine.

COMMON WORDS / PHRASES THAT ANNOY THEM. during a misunderstanding or argument, the worst thing to tell him is that he ‘doesn’t understand’. even if the person is somewhat correct, august is a person that prides himself on being an objective observer of a situation, rational in his thinking, and not someone who lets his emotions dictate his choices. saying something like that to him would just further annoy him.

PERSONALITY TYPES THEY PREFER. those who are smart, loyal, and efficient. those who are willing to dirty their hands on occasion, and believe that the ends do justify the means.

PERSONALITY TYPES THEY AVOID. selfish and incompetent people, those who proceed to waste his time, useless people in positions of powers, jerky unicorns.

WHAT DO YOU FIND DIFFERENT / DISTINCT ABOUT YOUR PORTRAYAL?

the whole concept of this ‘world’ is based around soap opera cliches and tropes so the character is intentionally ‘tropey’ and meant to pull from different fictional men from the genre - as well as outside of it. i would say him being the leading man is unique within itself because people of color in soaps ( at least within american soaps which this is all inspired by ) are generally never the leads or involved in what i actually watch soaps for: the drama, the love stories, the scheming, the cheating, etc. they’re usually the straight men to the white characters; living well off but boring lives and are rarely given front burner stories. all black people in a soap opera are usually always going to somehow know each other, only date each other, etc. you can switch black people out with latinos, asians, etc. and it would still be true. the characters of color are easily written off as a result of this.

in general, soap operas are very white - and still are today. they have a history of casting white people as mexican characters, ex. lindsay hartley as theresa on passions. asian american soap characters are severly lacking - i could probably count the amount of i’ve seen on screen. a black actress formerly on general hospital mentioned how people jokingly called the show ‘generally white hospital’ behind the scenes. chad.wick bos.eman left all my children because of how much of a stereotype his character was - and he was right ( ironically, michael b. jord.an was his recast ). some shows are getting better, bold and beautiful currently has a story involving two characters cheating ( one of which is black ) and it’s hot af but it’s still not enough for the times we’re in. this isn’t a problem exclusive to soaps either - most media has a problem with this. people of color aren’t getting lead roles and especially not romantic lead roles - even if they do, the shows always make it a interracial romance with a white person ( ex. bridg/erton ) as if people of color of different races are incapable of dating each other.

finally, i’ve noticed that you rarely see asian american men portrayed as romantic leads or desirable ( at least in a non-fetishized way ) in western media. that’s pretty lame:tm: so that was also a factor when i revamped audrey’s love interest ( parts of ‘old’ him still exist, ex. him being a jock / king of the school as a teen, a complicated relationship with his brother, etc ). anyway, stan august uwu.

tagged by: i took it from myself. tagging: anyone who wants to.

#❀ . ❛ august : study : headcanon .#❀ . ❛ august : study : worldbuilding .#this is the closest you're getting out of me for an about page tbh #i might do a separate lore dump but i kind of don't want to lol #adultery //

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amairauthor · 4 years ago

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Powerful does not necessarily mean strong!

Scarlet Witch is one of the most powerful characters in the Marvel universe. In the movie Infinity War, the final battle began to turn toward the heroes when she joined the fight. And she had enough power to destroy a mind stone, and if not for the fully powered Infinity Gauntlet with all of the stones, she would have given Thanos a run for his money. Only Captain Marvel on the heroes’ side rivals the power of Wanda Maximoff. But having great power does not necessarily imbue you with great strength, which is the theme explored in the new Disney+ offering of WandaVision.

Wanda Maximoff and Vision are living an idyllic suburban life trying to conceal their true natures. Neither seems to remember anything from their past, how they got to Westview, how they received their powers when they were married, and it doesn’t seem like they recall the Infinity War events at all.

But then the world begins to evolve around them, and with it, the ideal suburban life they are experiencing is not exactly what it seems.

As the episodes progress, the world around them changes from a 1950’s I Love Lucy and Dick Van Dyke Show type sitcom to more of a 1960’s era, Bewitched type sitcom.

With each adjustment to the world around them, more and more of the outside world (and likely influences we are not yet aware of) begin to creep in.

And with these infiltrations, we begin to see that even though Wanda may not have remembered the outside world at the beginning, she begins to remember (or at least understand enough not to allow herself to remember). And we realize she is in control of the world in which they live, at least partially.

Jump ahead to the most recent week's episode, and we find that Wanda is not only creating the world around them but has captured innocent people who now live in Westview. And not only captured them but is controlling their minds.

Has this Hero become a villain? I truly hope not, but she is a very young person and has experienced so much tragedy. These are the classic makings of a villain, but also great heroes. And sometimes heroes act like villains, and villains like heroes.

Having and using great power is a central theme to Marvel's IronMan, Captain America, and other Avengers movies.

Ant-Man began the movie by stealing Hank Pym's suit. Tony Stark created Vision, but only after accidentally creating Ultron. Spider-Man caided a Ferry accident that was only fixed with the help from Iron-Man. Hawkeye grieved his family's loss so powerfully, after Thanos’ snap, that he turned into the murderous Ronin. The Black Panther was so enraged by his father's death that he sought revenge and to kill Bucky. So heroes are not saints, and neither is Wanda.

These powerful individuals would do wise to heed the advice given to Peter Parker from his uncle Ben om Spiderman 2002:

"With great power comes great responsibility. "

The origins of the phrase pre-date its use in Spider-Man. It bears a close resemblance to the Christian bible verse in Luke 12:48:

"For unto whomsoever much is given, of him shall be much required: and to whom men have committed much, of him they will ask the more. "

In 1906, Under-Secretary of the Colonial Office, Winston Churchill said,

"Where there is great power, there is great responsibility."

And Superman Comes to Earth, the first episode of the 1948 Superman serial, Clark Kent is told by his foster father, Eben Kent:

"Because of these great powers—your speed and strength, your x-ray vision and super-sensitive hearing—you have a great responsibility."

All of these characters are powerful and physically strong, yet they are also weak-willed humans. In each case, their strength is developed over time and consists of continually choosing to adhere to their responsibility with the power they hold.

It is not unlike any of us. We are blessed with talents that make each of us unique and valuable. Some people are blessed with musical ability, others with intelligence, and some with physical agility.

There are a vast amount of talents and combinations of talents, the only end to which rival the sands on the worlds beaches. Some of us are blessed with a better life situation than others, but all of us are blessed with gifts that make us powerful.

That is the story we are telling by living.

We are continually deciding if we will accept the responsibility of our talents or squander them, or even worse, use them for evil. As we watch Wanda explore how she will respond to the power she has, let us each do the same. That is why I love these stories because they are our stories—even my story.

https://swhrecord.com/blog-spoiler-alert-1/f/test-post

#wandavision #wanda maximoff #bucky barnes #steve rogers #mcu #television

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p-artsypants · 5 years ago

Text

Arcadia or Bust (16) Corner of Main and State

"Yeah, so mom…we made it to New Jersey, and we're all safe...but the Heartstone isn't really...impressive. So, we're bringing what we found home. See you soon!" In Which Arcadia welcomes back it's underground citizens, Jim gets used to mundane life as a Troll, and drama seeks them all out like a magnet.

Ao3 | FF.net

I’m rewatching Trollhunters, because it’s been like a year since I watched it, and the more I listen, the less the plot of Wizards makes sense to me. Don’t get me wrong, I loved it, but there’s some lore and continuity issues. That being said, I’ll continue to write this story using Trollhunter’s lore primarily, with a sprinkle of Wizards and 3Below lore as I see fit. :)

—

Jim had been through a lot of trauma in his life. At least since becoming the Trollhunter. But nothing was as jarring as looking down to his chest and seeing his ribcage, muscles, and heart beating.

They had taken the amulet from where it was nestled, and in return, left the gaping hole wide open, oozing with blood, and exposed. Could trolls get infections? Because humans certainly could, and this was just asking for infection.

He had been lying here alone for a few hours now. It was hard to tell exactly how long in the vast passage of time while drenched in pain.

When Colonel Kubritz appeared at his side, he wasn’t even surprised. Had he fallen asleep?

“How do you get this to work?” She bit. In her hand, she held the cleaned amulet, and it glowed, aching to be back with him.

“You can’t. You have to be chosen by it. Even if I die, it will pick someone else. And it might not be you.”

She slapped him for that, but it looked like it hurt her more than him, by the wince on her face. “Don’t give me that crap. Tell me how to work it!”

“Just speak the incantation inscribed.”

“We already tried that.”

He shrugged. “That’s all it is.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Teach me to use it, and I’ll let you go home.”

Jim sighed. It was pointless, but he may as well try.

—

Claire rang the doorbell at the designated house.

A surly man opened the door. “Yeah? What do you want? No solicitors! Unless you’re a girl scout…no, you’re too old. Are you with the tamale lady?”

“Hello sir, I’m not here to sell anything, I actually came to ask about the car you had totaled a few days ago.”

“Are you here to hunt down that devil that flipped my baby?!” He gestured to the smashed in car in the driveway. It looked drivable, but one bump away from death.

“Not quite...I’m actually here to fix it.”

“Fix it? You want to fix that? My mechanic couldn’t even fix it! And you want to! What are you, 15?”

“17, actually.”

“I doubt you have the experience for this, little lady.”

“Oh, I’m not a mechanic, I’m a sorceress.”

“A what now?”

“Sorceress, a witch! Do I have permission to fix your truck?”

“Girlie, if you can fix my truck, I’ll owe you a huge favor.”

“I was hoping you’d say that!” With a little skip, Claire went over to the truck and rested her hands on the hood. “Ad initium redire...” Her hands glowed purple, and pulsed against the metal, making it groan. Then it began to twist and crunch, popping out dents and welding pieces back together.

The old man stood in shock as his beloved truck knit back together, and when she was done, it was in perfect condition.

“How did—where did you—?!” He rounded the car, circling it like a vulture. “It’s perfect! You even took out that bump from years ago! You’re a miracle worker, girlie!”

Claire fell on her butt on the driveway, dizzy and winded. “Glad to help.”

“You alright?”

“Just a little winded. I’m still getting used to using magic, especially without a staff. It’s exhausting.”

“Well why don’t you take a seat up on the porch instead of the road? I’ll get you a beer.”

“I’m seventeen.”

“You’ve earned it!”

Claire chuckled to herself and climbed to her feet. She followed the man up his steps and took a seat on the porch swing while he went inside.

Only a minute later, he returned with beers in hand. “Here you are darlin’. Summertime ale. I’m partial to dark ale myself, but my neighbor got me this pale ale. It’s pretty good! You have a favorite?”

Claire took a sip and tried to hide the grimace. “I don’t really get to drink very often, unless it’s a special occasion.”

“Right right, we’ll keep it our little secret. Now then, I owe you a favor. You just saved me a whole chunk of change and a basket of anxiety. You must have something in mind since you offered?” He suddenly sat up straight. “Oh god, you don’t want my soul do you?”

Claire snorted. “No no, you can keep your soul! Don’t know what I would do with it anyways...You know the boy that damaged your truck in the first place?”

“I only saw a glimpse of him, that blue devil? What about him?”

“He’s actually my boyfriend, and he’s really very sweet and usually not like this. But he was...fed something he shouldn’t have had and it made him go berserk.”

“Crying shame.”

“I’ll say! So the army came in and took him away! They wouldn’t listen to us at all!”

“So what do you want me to do about it?”

“We are going to run a campaign to get him out. Hopefully, if we get enough attention on the issue, they’ll let him go.”

“Oh, I gotcha.”

“So if you could just...spread the truth around town? He’s actually the one that stopped that troll invasion back at the beginning of summer.”

The man looked surprised at that. “No kidding, that was him? Well, he’s a local hero! He’s been talked about a lot since then! Sure I’ll set the record straight! What’s this kid’s name?”

“Jim Lake Jr.”

“Got it! Don’t worry, I’ll bring it up at the lodge, and the rotary, and the chess club...”

—

The phone was ringing, he had been successfully patched through. Strickler sat in his office after hours, wanting to make the call as private as possible.

“Stricklander, I haven’t heard from you since the fall of the Janus order. What reason have you called on me?”

“Can’t I just call an old friend to catch up?”

“You? No.”

Walt cracked a smile. “Fine. I need a favor.”

“Changeling to changeling, or school principal to army general?”

“The latter, actually.”

The man on the other line laughed. “Color me intrigued.”

“You know of the human Trollhunter, correct?”

“Just what you wrote in your dossier, a human male, 16 years old, lives in Arcadia Oaks, California, turned half-troll by the wizard Merlin. Responsible for the death of Bular and Gunmar. Quite a remarkable young soul. Is there anything else to know?”

“He’s been captured by the United States Army.”

The man let out half a chuckle. “Captured? What dumb trouble did he get into?”

“His deadbeat father left out some cocaine for the boy to find, he thought it was trash, and ate it.”

Distantly on the other line, there was laughter, a strong bark of laughter that lasted far too long. When he came back, he was calm. “How unfortunate.”

“He’s a good kid. Why would there be a kilogram of cocaine in the trash anyways? I fail to see the humor in the situation.”

“Of course. So, I assume, he went on a rampage following his meal, and then attracted the attention of some of us?”

“So you haven’t heard about it?”

“Not where I’m stationed. But give me a moment.” The line went silent, only a very distant and quiet tapping of keys on a keyboard being tapped. Then the man returned. “I’m glad you told me about this. This incident hasn’t been reported to our database. That shows evidence of misconduct. Did you get the name of the commanding officer responsible, by chance?”

“Colonel Kubritz, I believe.”

More typing. “Area 49-B.”

“That name was also passed around.”

“Technically not my jurisdiction, and since she didn’t report it, I’m not supposed to know about it.”

“I’m afraid you will officially know about it soon.”

“Oh?”

“His friends and family, myself included, are going to put on a protest for his freedom. Drawing attention to the situation.”

That echoing laughter was back again.

“It wasn’t my idea, in case you were wondering.”

“I know, you wouldn’t come up with something so bold. Regardless, go ahead in through with it. I’ll make sure whatever protest happens gets brought to my superior’s attention, and then I will take it from there.”

“Thanks. I will owe you one.”

“Oh come now, Walter, we Changelings that survived the Fall of the Janus order have to stick together. Besides, I heard rumors that you’re caring for my familiar?”

“He’s still in the cradle stone, and the moment. One baby at a time, for now.”

“Then we’re even. Besides, this is the most interesting thing that’s happened in a while. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“Your kindness is refreshing. I’m glad Gunmar didn’t eat you.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“We’ll be in touch then, Samuel.”

“Of course, Walter.”

—

“How goes the car repair?” Asked Merlin, as he met up with Toby and Claire in the park.

“Ugh, exhausting. First I stopped at the mechanics, and they’re still backed up with fixing other cars. Apparently, Gunmar’s army did a number and backed them up for months. But they gave me the names of all the clients who got totaled from Jim. I had to hit the scrap yard for four of them, and I just finished another two in driveways.”

“How many does that leave you with?”

“Seven more,” she sighed. “How goes the road work?”

“It goes. Now come along, there’s someone I’d like you to meet.” He didn’t wait for them to follow as he turned and started walking away.

Sharing a dubious look, Toby and Claire quickly caught up with him. He led them to a bookstore, where a young man was sweeping outside.

“Hisirdoux, my faithful and loyal apprentice—“

“You're damn straight I’m loyal!” He shouted. “Where have you been? I’ve been cleaning tables for the last 900 years!”

“Calm yourself boy, I’m here now, aren’t I? And I need your help.”

“Finally! What is it? Just say the word!”

“I need you to go with Miss Claire Nuñez and help her restore recently smashed vehicles.”

“What?”

“Or, you can repair street damage.”

Douxie crossed his arms. “What is this? I saw what happened! There were trolls, and evidence of Morgana! And now you need my help? To clean up, several months later?”

“That is correct.”

“Why didn’t you call for me back then?!”

“I forgot.”

“You forgot? About me?”

“Oh come now, don’t take it personally. I was busy trying to prepare the Trollhunter to fight Gunmar. And get my magic back from Morgana.”

Douxie seemed to become more sympathetic at that. “Morgana stole your magic?”

“Yes, but it’s all in the past now. Everything is fine. Well, not really. Seems that the US Army has declared the Trollhunter as a menace to society. We must get the trust of the city on our side if we are to get them to trust us, and agree that his capture is unjust.”

“Please,” said Claire. “We need all the help we can get.”

Douxie sighed. “Alright. Afterwards, you’re training me again.” He gave Merlin a hard look. “And no amateur magic either. I’ve been doing the same drills for 900 years. I think I’m ready for more advanced work.”

“Oh, you will be. Starting with helping Miss Nuñez field her shadow magic.”

Douxie looked at her, in awe. “You’re practicing shadow magic? Truly?”

“It’s a recent development…”

“She took Morgana’s Skathe-Hrün, and wielded it without any training. Because of that she has a tether to Morgana in the Shadow realm, who has been teaching her ever so slightly. I’m not allowed to train her, but she could use the guidance of a Wizard in the physical realm. Do you understand Hisirdoux?”

“I do, and I’ll be happy to teach her…I’m just…I’ll need a moment or two to digest the sentence you just said.”

“Well, don’t take too long, we have a Trollhunter to rescue!”

—

There was a heavy knock on the door, which was never a good thing. Especially nowadays.

Still, Barbara went to the door.

Standing there was Detective Scott and James Lake Sr.

“Does this belong to you?” Asked the detective.

“I don’t claim him, no.”

Her almost ex-husband smiled at her, pleadingly, “Please Babs?”

“What is he even doing out? You arrested him!”

“About that…” Detective Scott winced. “We don’t have enough to keep him on.”

“What!” She shouted. “He confessed in front of a bunch of people!”

“Which would be helpful if we had a case for a trial. But as it stands, he doesn’t actually have any drugs on him. And we don’t have a confession on tape. So…we’re shit out of luck.”

“Oh come on Louis, you know the cocaine came from him! Where else would Jim have gotten it from?”

“Look, the chief’s not thrilled that we didn’t arrest the guy responsible for trashing the town, but we’re supposed to arrest someone else without evidence?”

Barbara threw her hands up in the air. “With probable cause!”

“That doesn’t work with drug dealers. He’s clean, Barbara. All the blood tests came back clean too.”

“Ugh.”

The house shook slightly, and Barbara felt the floor bow behind her. “Is there a problem, officer?” Asked Draal.

“Nothing you can help with, Draal. Thank you.” Barbara sighed. “James is not being charged.”

“But he is a criminal, this degenerate flesh bag poisoned the Trollhunter! He should face banishment for his crimes!”

James withered a little with the glare Draal gave him.

“Well,” said Officer Scott. “Maybe you can keep an eye on him from now on. If you have evidence that he is dealing, like physical traces of cocaine on the premises, call us. But for now, there’s not much else we can do.”

“This is ludicrous.”

“I know, I’m sorry Barbara. How is Jim?”

She frowned. “You haven’t heard? The army came and collected him from the hospital!”

Louis sputtered. “The army came?!”

“Yes!”

“Where were they when Gunmar was terrorizing us?” He scoffed. “Again, sorry Barbara, I can’t help you here.”

“It’s alright. We’ve got a plan.”

“Love to hear it, but I’ve got to get back to the office. I’m sure Toby will tell Darci, and she’ll tell me. Good luck!” And he left James on the porch.

“Babs, I’m sorry…”

“Save it.” Barbara scoffed, but allowed him in the house.

Draal never took his eyes off the man.

“Well, you’ll be happy to know I have no more supply. And after Rudy found out what happened to my last Kilo, she’s not getting anymore for me. So…”

“I’ll have to thank Jim for keeping a kilogram of Cocaine off the streets of Arcadia. We have a fairly low rate of drug use around here, and we don’t need you to ruin people’s lives.”

James sighed, knowing he had dodged a huge bullet by being let off the hook. He’d rather deal with his wife than with his ex-associates in jail any day. “I think I’ve still ruined people’s lives anyway.” He walked into the living room, only to halt at the signs on the table.

Release Jim Lake Jr.

Justice for Jim

Let Lake Go!

“Babs, what is all this?”

“That’s part of our plan to free Jim! I’m friends with the councilwoman, and she suggested that we campaign for his release. Bringing a lot of unwanted attention onto his capture will stir the government to let him go!”

James jutted out his jaw, a sign of barely concealed rage. An expression Barbara had grown very used to in the last few months. “So, you’re going to put his name—my name in the news? You’re going to broadcast what city we live in?”

“Yes.”

He whirled on her, grabbing her arm. “Babs, people are looking for me! Horrible, mean, and ruthless people! If you put his name out there, they’ll know where to look!”

“All the better! Then they can come take you off my hands!”

“You don’t understand! I owe them a lot of money, and they’ll take it anyway they can! That includes extorting you, Jim, and whoever else they connect with me!”

Draal stepped in, removing his hand from Barbara’s arm. “This house is under my protection. If anyone dare tries to enter, they will be dealt with swiftly.”

“You don’t know what these men are capable of.”

“I assure you, I’ve decimated armies of flesh bags in my day. These men are no different.”

Barbara smiled. “If you’re really that scared, I hear Vermont is lovely this time of year.”

James just narrowed his eyes, before storming out of the room.

—

The first rally took place from 3pm to dusk, starting from after school, and leading up to when Trolls would be able to participate. Granted, it was only a handful of people, but standing in the middle of downtown did garner a lot of attention. More than a dozen people walking past had stopped to ask about the cause. They were then given a short synopsis of the situation, as it pertained to them:

“Jim is a 16 year old student who was chosen by the trolls to be our protector. He willingly gave up his humanity to defeat Gunmar the Black, the monstrous troll that attacked the city at the beginning of the summer. Now, he looks like a troll, and was sabotaged to go into a rage and damage the city. The US army took him away without a trial! He’s a hero to the city, and deserves fair treatment!”

Reactions ranged from:

“Oh, he stopped that thing?”

To:

“Oh my god! He’s just a child!”

Overwhelmingly, there was no negative feedback, at least in person. But it was only day one.

—

“This daylight...is it significant?” The colonel asked, as she circled his table.

“It’s just a name.” Jim lied. “A sword with a name is stronger than one without.”

“Interesting. Interesting indeed. According to my notes, trolls turn to stone in daylight. Any correlation there?”

So she already knew? Then what was the point? Was she just playing with him?

“I’m the Trollhunter, and I fight bad trolls. It would make sense to name my sword after something they’re afraid of.”

She hummed. “And what about you?”

“What about me?”

“Are you afraid of daylight?”

“Why would I be?”

The colonel laughed. “Oh Jim Lake Jr. You’re the worst liar I’ve ever met. You are honest and forthcoming with truths that work in your favor. You freely told me of your transformation, and of your victory against a Troll tyrant. But now that I’m edging on the topic of your weakness, you clam up and give me vague answers. I can do this all day, beast. What does daylight do to you?”

“Nothing. It doesn’t do anything to me.”

“Really? Even as a troll? That’s interesting.”

“It’s fortunate.”

“I would say so. Though, now you’ve got me curious. These burns on your skin…where did they come from?” She dragged her fingernail over one of the dark marks.

Jim winced. “I don’t know. I wasn’t aware in my rage state.”

“Then you won’t mind if I find out for myself?” She crooked a finger towards the shadows. Jim could hear the creak of wheels before a lamp with several fixtures was wheeled forward.

“Oh no…”

“UV lights, all different wattages. Let’s see what works the best, hmm?”

—

ARCADIA TRIBUNE

Justice for Jim

By Nadja Chamack

Who is Jim Lake Jr. anyway? This is a question I asked myself as I drove downtown three days ago. No doubt, you’ve seen the crowd of students and teachers holding signs on the corner of Main and State Street. It’s pretty hard to miss, quite honestly. Among the students, there’s also Councilwoman Nuñez, and resident Troll Mascot, ARRRGH! Signs range from ‘Justice for Jim’ to ‘Free our Lake’.

But who is Jim Lake Jr.? And what happened? A precursory search on my end showed only a scant few facts. Jim is a student at Arcadia Highschool, in his Junior year. He was nominated as Spring Fling King last year, and played the part of Romeo in the school play. His criminal record seemed pretty clean too. A misdemeanor for scratching a rental scooter was all that showed up. But hey, who hasn’t done that?

So I went to the source, his family and friends campaigning for him. On Saturday, the group was downtown, campaigning all day long, so I had the chance to interview each and every person about why they were there.

Turns out, Jim Lake Jr. might be the most amazing person in Arcadia.

From his mother, Dr. Barbara Lake, I learned that Jim is an Arcadia native, born and raised here. He enjoys cooking gourmet food, working on his vespa, and acting.

Oh, and he’s the first human Trollhunter.

What? You’ve never heard of a Trollhunter? Me neither. But Barbara and Blinky, another resident Troll, gave me the scoop.

You all remember that night at the beginning of the summer that we all promised not to talk about? Well, I’m going to talk about it. In fact, I’m here to give you all the answers you’ve been craving.

Many months before that fateful night, a new Trollhunter was chosen, after the previous one had perished. “The Trollhunter is chosen according to his mettle, by the amulet of the Trollhunter, as created by Merlin, the wizard of Arthurian legend. Jim was chosen after the fall of Kanjigar, his predecessor. Jim is the first human to be chosen, also the smallest and weakest. But, he was the first to defeat Bular, son of Gunmar!” Said his mentor, Blinky. None of this made any sense to me at first, though it was said with great enthusiasm.

It turns out, the trolls that we’ve gotten used to seeing around town, mostly ARRRGH, are ‘good’ trolls. The bad trolls, ‘Gum-gums’ are what invaded our town and destroyed my car. The Trollhunter’s whole job is to fight off these bad trolls, and gnomes, and goblins, and everything else that goes bump in the night. And so he did. The Gum-Gums invaded from the ‘Darklands’, being led by a fearsome troll named Gunmar the Black, the Skullcrasher, the Dark Lord…he had a lot of names, and it was obviously a bad dude. Gunmar had plans to invade the whole world by blotting out the sun, a.k.a the eclipse we saw. And he would have gotten away for it too, if it weren’t for those meddling kids!

Mainly Jim Lake Jr. and his friends.

And how does a sixteen year old defeat a couple millennia old, bloodthirsty, all powerful tyrant? With a fancy sword? Close. With some magical armor? Closer. By giving up a part of his humanity and becoming a half-human, half-troll hybrid? Now you’re getting it! Yes, to protect Arcadia, to protect us, Jim Lake Jr. allowed himself to be changed. You may have seen him around town. Blue skin, big horns...okay, I just described most of the trolls that are around here.

“Jim works the night shift at my store,” said Stu Harding, owner of Thrifty Furnishings. “He’s a very hard worker, and always willing to do the heavy lifting that is hard for the other employees to do.”

“Despite his appearance, Jim ultimately decided to attend school,” said Principal Walter Strickler. “After the school found out about why he had missed so many days of school, they were willing to move him onto the next grade to be with his peers. He was a good student before all this, and he fought really hard to keep his grades up regardless. We felt he should still have the opportunity to graduate. We were looking forward to having him on our football team, and in our spring production of Beauty and the Beast.”

So what happened to Jim? And why is there such a big campaign for his freedom?

Well, the truth is that Jim is a victim of unfortunate circumstances. In more ways than one, obviously. Trolls eat our trash. That’s why Arcadia has such a small carbon footprint! (Be sure to thank ARRRGH next time you see him!) And this trait was adopted by Jim too, when he was transformed.

“He just picked a bunch of items out of the trash. Cans, an old sock, and what looked like a VHS wrapped in duct tape,” said Jim’s best friend, Toby Dolmzalski. “It was a normal lunch for him. But right in the middle of gym class, he turned crazy town banana pants and took off! I had never seen Jim act like that! Ever!”

After an 8 hour rage through town, Jim collapsed and was taken to the hospital for evaluation. It turns out what Jim had ingested turned out to be a kilogram of pure cocaine!

At this time, it is unknown where the cocaine came from, or if it was planted purposefully. (Seriously, who throws away a kilogram of cocaine?)

But the damage that Jim caused was extensive enough to catch the attention of the US army, who has taken Jim into captivity from the hospital. No trial, no rights, they even took him while he was unconscious. His friends and family have not heard from him since.

“I’m so worried,” said girlfriend, Claire Nuñez. “He was injured from the battle with Gunmar, and didn’t completely heal. In the hospital, he was covered in burns from the sun. I have no idea if they’re caring for him properly, or dissecting him like some creature. But he deserves so much better than this. He saved our town, he saved my life, and the life of my baby brother. That’s why we won’t rest until he’s home!”

“Not bad,” said ARRRGH, long time friend of Jim. “Good troll have bad days, best trolls have worse days. Jim need some good days.”

Couldn’t have said it better myself, ARRRGH.

Friends and family of Jim are asking everyone share #JusticeforJim on social media, hoping to get the attention of someone in charge. All the damage caused by Jim has been repaired, and there were no casualties from his attack.

Of course, the whole ‘troll’ aspect of this story has to be a local legend. So when sharing it to social media, kindly leave that part out.

—

“C-Bomb!” Mary shouted from the other end of the hall. She came running and almost crashed into Claire and Toby, holding her phone up in the air. “My twitter feed is blowing up, girl! Look at all of this!” She held the screen up so they could see.

“Citizen abducted by the government, is this China or North Korea? Neither! It’s the US! #JusticeforJim”

“Imagine if this was your son. So sad, and so scary! #JusticeforJim”

“This is real life, not science fiction #JusticeforJim”

“Whoa, where did these all come from?” Asked Claire. “What did you post?”

“Did you know Snapper Karr did a report on it!?”

“Snapper Karr? From KTTV in LA?”

“Yes! Thankfully, he left out the whole troll thing. I’ll send you a link. In his story, Jim is just a kid that has a rare genetic disorder that makes him look different, and so the government took him away!”

Claire winced. “This is…kind of spiraling out of control.”

“I don’t know why you’re worrying, Claire,” said Darci. “We want people talking about Jim getting abducted. It doesn’t matter if the world outside Arcadia doesn’t have all the facts. They still know he’s been taken away without a trial, and that’s all that’s important. Besides, Jim doesn’t want the whole world knowing about Trolls, right?”

She nodded. “As long as this works, I’ll be happy.”

“And sensationalist stories like this blow up for like a week, and then they die out and are forgotten. This won’t last.” Mary waved her hand. “It should work long enough to get Jimmy Jam out though.” Then she squealed. “OMG you know what we should do?! We should totally have a welcome home party! Or-or a parade! Like they have for veterans!”

“Mary, I don’t think—“

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it! You’re not the only one with ties to the city!” And she hurried off, texting frantically.

“What’s up Claire? I would have thought you’d be ecstatic the hashtag went viral.” Asked Toby.

“Don’t get me wrong, I am happy. And I’m happy that Snapper Karr chalked the troll thing up to local legend or superstition…but I can’t help but worry that something bad is going to come out of this.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. It’s just a gut feeling.” She scoffed and went to her locker. “It’s dumb, don’t worry about it.”

No sooner had she said that, did Strickler appear. “Claire, Toby, come with me.”

“What?”

“I’ve already spoken with your teachers, now come along.”

Claire and Toby shared a look, but followed regardless.

—

They were led to the parking lot, where a black van with tinted windows waited, a huge red flag, if there ever was one.

“Umm…” said Toby.

“Don’t worry.” Strickler assured.

A man in an army uniform stepped out of the driver seat. “Walter, good to see you again.”

“Glad to see you as well, Samuel. And thank you for following through with your promise.”

“As I said, this is the most interesting thing to happen in a while.” He glanced at the two teenagers in attendance. “We’re just waiting for his mother, correct?”

“She should be here soon.”

Toby muttered to Claire, “Who’s Jorgen Von Strangle over here?”

“No idea.”

And just like that, Barbara pulled into the parking lot, haphazardly parked, and ran over to them, still in her scrubs. “I came as soon as I could! We’re going to get Jim?!”

“What?!” Screamed Toby. “We’re rescuing him?!”

“That is the goal,” the man answered. “I’m General Samuel Attila. I’ve been given authorization to intervene in this situation, given that this project, whatever it is, hasn’t been officially recorded. But, bear in mind, you may not like what you see. We may be bringing home Jim, or just his body. I don’t know. So if anyone is uncomfortable with that idea, I suggest you stay behind.”

“I’m going,” Said Toby. “No matter what.”

“Me too,” said Claire. “It’ll hurt, but I want to know what happened to him.”

“Alright, then let’s hurry. The facility is about an hour away.” He ushered everyone into the van, which had two front seats, two benches along the walls, and a gurney in the middle. As soon as everyone was buckled, they headed out.

“Hey, if you know Mr. Strickler, does that mean you’re a…?”

“A what, Toby?” Asked Walt, with a hint of amusement in his tone.

“A…man of culture?”

“Yes, I am a changeling.”

Toby exhaled. “Okay, it’s like super hard to ask that question when you don’t know who knows, you know?”

“I owe the Trollhunter a debt of gratitude for stopping Gunmar. After he ate the entirety of the Janus order, we the few that weren’t present for his return stayed in hiding. Had Gunmar taken over the world, my death as a traitor would have been slow and painful. We were thinking about sending him a thoughtful gift basket, but I think this is more fun. I love to bully those in lower ranks. The fleshbags get a few pretty badges and think they’re invincible. I love watching them cower!”

Toby leaned closer to Claire. “He was so nice and helpful, I was beginning to wonder if he was actually a changeling.”

“Same! But I actually feel better knowing he’s got ulterior motives, and that they have nothing to do with us.”

“Have you heard from Nomura lately?” Samuel asked Walter.

“She was in Arcadia for a while. She helped with the fight with Gunmar. Right now, I believe she’s on her way back from New Jersey.”

“New Jersey? What was she doing out there?”

“After Morgana and Gunmar destroyed the Heartstone, Jim and Blinky went in search of a new one.”

“Oh, yes. I forgot there were rumors of a source in New Jersey. Did they find it?”

“Yep,” said Claire. “But it wasn’t very big, so we brought it back to Arcadia in a truck. The rest of the tribe is making their way back on foot.”

“Ah, that explains it.” Samuel nodded. “You’re both very lucky. Not many Changeling’s are allowed in Trollmarket.”

“Now that Gunmar’s out of the picture, I’m sure you could visit too!” Toby exclaimed, before getting elbowed in the gut by Claire.

“It’d be nice to see it once. I’m sad I didn’t get to see the Heartstone in its glory, but such is life.”

The rest of the ride continued in relative silence. Strickler and Samuel spoke to each other, mostly catching up. But Toby, Claire, and Barbara were far too anxious to keep up with the conversation.

There were no windows in the back of the vehicle, so there was no way of knowing where they were. From the front, they looked to be in a weaving forest trail.

Then there were huge cement walls in front of them.

Samuel pulled in the front gate.

The man at the gate didn’t look up from his computer. “You’re not authorized to be here.”

“Excuse me?”

“I don’t recognize your vehicle, so I know you don’t have clearance.”

Samuel sat up a little straighter, glaring at the soldier at the gate. “How about you scan my badge first, and then tell me if I have clearance, Lieutenant.”

The soldier gave a little shrug and reached out for the badge, his eyes widening as he caught a glance at the four stars on the man’s shoulder. “Oh.”

“Problem?”

“No, sir. I just…I don’t need to scan your badge, you can go in.”

“Thank you. At ease soldier.”

Toby held back a snicker.

“And, let Colonel Kubritz know she has company.”

“Yes sir.”

“As you were.”

The gate rolled open, and they pulled through.

It seemed like Samuel’s message was received pretty quickly, because the woman that had taken Jim was waiting for them, flanked by soldiers with strange weapons.

“Stay in the car.” He told everyone, before getting out.

“I was not aware of any sort of inspection. You are not my commanding general, and therefore not welcome here. This facility holds highly dangerous equipment and confidential projects.”

“Stand down, Colonel. I am here on behalf of general Adele. I’m here to recover Jim Lake Jr. General Adele will be speaking to you about your discharge.”

“What are you talking about?” She demanded.

“You kidnapped a teenage boy from a hospital. Surely you didn’t think that wouldn’t go unnoticed? I have video evidence of you leaving the hospital with him.”

“He’s not a normal boy—“

“I’d say so! His whole town is hailing him as a hero for saving them from an invasion! I thought this facility was for research on protecting Earth from invaders. And you’re punishing a boy for saving a town?”

“He also destroyed it. Don’t give into their little campaign. Jim Lake Jr. may have done something good once, but that doesn’t stop him from being a monster.”

“I was just in Arcadia, Colonel. There is no damage. There’s no lawsuits against Jim Lake Jr. There’s not even any pending arrests.”

“I have video evidence of his destruction!” She barked.

“Then let the local police handle it.”

She growled, then commanded her men to stand down. “Fine. But if he does this again, no one will stop me from taking him.”

“Actually,” he clarified with a smirk. “You’re being discharged. So you won’t have any means to take him again.”

Her mouth opened in shock, as she fought to find an argument.

But he was a general, he was above her.

“Now, Jim Lake Jr.?”

She grumbled something and started off towards a big central building.

Samuel was quick to beckon the others out of the car to follow him, and headed towards the same building as Kubritz.

When Barbara reached them, she spoke, “you didn’t hurt my son, did you?”

Kubritz didn’t even look at her. “I don’t have to share information with civilians.”

Claire clenched her fists in anger, a black haze coming over her hands.

But Toby simply patted her on the back to ground her.

Colonel Kubritz led them through the research facility, ignoring their questions.

They reached the room Jim was being held in, and she entered her code to open the door.

Of course, Jim wasn’t the only thing in the room, being surrounded by specimens of all sorts of living creatures, but he was right in the center, with a spot light right on him.

“Jim!” Claire shouted first as she ran to him.

The poor boy was naked, lying on his back and strapped to the table with thick iron bonds. His wound from Morgana wasn’t the worst on him anymore, as he was covered in blackened burned spots. The spot that had the amulet was now just a hole in his chest, that went right down to the ribs. Claire could see his heart beating, and his lungs moving, thank god.

“Jim...” she cried, seeing the carnage.

“What did you do to him?!” Toby shouted at the Colonel, but she didn’t respond.

“Honey? Jim? Can you hear me?” Barbara asked, as she assessed the damage.

His eyes opened ever so slightly. “Mom? Is that you? Are you...really here?”

“Yeah kiddo,” she wiped some tears from her eyes. “It’s me, I’m here. Toby, Claire, and Walt are here too. We’re going to take you home.”

His smile was just a hint, and he stated, “I’m tired.”

“I’m sure you are. We’re going to get you fixed up!” She turned to the Colonel. “Get me a gurney or a wheelchair!”

She scoffed. “I don’t take orders from civilians.”

Samuel interceded. “Then get me a soldier who isn’t completely incompetent! If you’re going to continue to endanger the life of this young man, then I suggest you get out of my sight before I endanger yours.”

The Colonel didn’t waver, though a tremor went down her spine. “Lieutenant!” She called.

A man hurried into the room, standing at attention.

Kubritz just gave a roll of the eyes. “Follow whatever order the general gives you.”

“But—“

“No, I’m done.” With one last glare to Samuel, she added, “I'll be sending my evidence to General Adele, then we’ll see who’s the one putting the nation in danger.”

“Go ahead, I’ve already given my report.”

She growled at him, turned and left without another word.

The lieutenant just stood at attention in front of Samuel instead. “Orders sir?”

“Get someone to fetch the gurney from the back of our van, and send for the medic! And get someone to get these shackles off this kid!”

“Sir yes sir!”

Meanwhile, Claire stood right by Jim’s side, holding his hand, brushing the bangs away from his face and combing his hair with her fingers. He had a pretty strong fever.

“You’re going to be alright Jim. We’re going to take good care of you.”

“I’m…cold…” He breathed.

Barbara found some vinyl gloves nearby and got to work examining her boy. “I don’t know about the Troll half, but this tissue looks alright. I don’t see any infection yet, or any tissue death. Of course, we need to get this covered immediately.”

“Where’s the amulet?” Asked Walt. “That’s what’s missing.”

“The amulet!” Barbara addressed Samuel. “His amulet, we have to find it!”

He nodded, “we can’t let these psychos have it. They have no idea what magic it possesses, even without being the chosen wielder.”

Only a beat passed before the army medic came with the gurney, and another soldier came with a crowbar to undo the shackles.

“Lieutenant, we’re looking for an amulet that came with Jim. It’s what’s missing from his chest.”

The Lieutenant blanched. “I don’t know anything about it…I can ask the Colonel?”

“She won’t tell.”

The shackles fell free from Jim’s limbs, but he didn’t seem to register it.

“Alright,” said Barbara, “Let’s move him onto the gurney. We can worry about the amulet later.” It took everyone to lift him and carefully slide him over. Then, he was covered up to his stomach with a blanket.

“You’re going home, Jim. Mi amor, you’re safe now.” Claire whispered, kissing his forehead.

“Hmm…” Jim weakly groaned. “…for the…glory…” But before he could finish, he fell back into sleep.

#arcadia or bust #tales of arcadia #Trollhunters #troll jim #jim lake junior #claire nunez #toby domzalski #fanfiction

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ashleyswrittenwords · 5 years ago

Text

How to be a Queen [Part 24]

Summary: Princess Zelda is at a loss. Her handed royal responsibilities have begun to weigh heavily on her and she is eventually backed into a corner. Live a life she loathes or run away from everything she’s ever known? Navigating life is hard, and Link forces her to learn that she doesn’t have to do it alone.

Part 1

How To Be A Queen

Hyrule flooded the day Nathaniel Nohansen III died.

It had rained for three days. Castle Town had closed its shops and barely no one walked the streets. The storms were so harsh that it was hardly a premonition when they told me he was deteriorating quickly. I found him in his bed as he had been for months. Soft cries of my father filled the silence as he knelt at the bedside and grasped a limp hand in his own. Guilt twisted deep in my stomach when tears didn’t come.

“I’m so sorry, Nate,” Father sobbed. The words hardly intelligible. “I’m sorry.”

For months I had mourned for this moment. When he stopped responding to questions almost two weeks ago, my heart knew that this journey would have a finite end. In the very least, my father had some time to step out from his veil of ignorance before now.

Gods. No matter how much I tried to will myself to cry, I couldn’t.

I hadn’t thought about death so much in my life. When before it was a quiet promise of my youthful failures, now it was staring me down at every corner. These coming days, I thought of it as a fear that had become a flirtatious caller. War walked hand-in-hand with death. They were synonymous actions I had come to expect; violence paired with the spilling of blood.

Presently, it came to me as an eerily familiar vessel of a man I adored, sleeping forever. It was as if a trickster had carefully sculpted a copy of my uncle from wax and stole the real one away. There was no grave injury or pooling blood, just the deep feeling that something was horribly wrong. The blood in my veins ran cold and suddenly I could hardly bear to so much as glance at it – that wasn’t my uncle. Never had been after his eyes no longer smiled and his casual flirting with his nurse ceased.

Numbly, I pulled my hand from Father’s shoulder. His cries subdued to soft sniffling pleas for his older brother to wake up. I softly pried him away, but he didn’t give much resistance in the first place. As we walked away, I barely heard Father’s voice.

“I love you. So much.”

The body wouldn’t speak back because its wrinkles were far too sunken and its hands far too still. The silence behind us as we walked towards the door was deafening.

“I love you too,” I said, but his words weren’t for me.

----------

“Your Majesty,” a servant said, breaking me from a far-off stare. “The coroner mentioned that the ground was too soft to bury General Nohansen this week.”

Cold hands. Cold eyes.

Impa cut through, stepping between my desk and the man with a series of hushed mentions that made the servant satisfied enough to leave. Lightning struck in the distance and lit up the study through the uncovered window. Soberly, she turned to me with a white swinging braid.

“Allow me to handle the funeral.”

I went to shake my head. “I feel like I should do it myself.”

Her eyes pried into me, making me meet them no matter how badly I didn’t want to. Impa stood with square shoulders, appearing so tall even when she barely reached my shoulder. Then, she softened with folded hands before her. I knew what she was insinuating: I sounded like my father.

A chill slithered up my spine. It caused me to fold and fear engaged me.

“What else am I to do?” I pleaded. The careful guard I had unknowingly constructed was being chipped away by intrusive thoughts. For the remaining years of my life, there will never be a grin as toothy as his. My arms will never be swept up in such a warm embrace for as long as my heart is still beating. No laugh was as baritone as his once was; capable of escaping even the thickest walls.

Nothing, nothing, nothing could compete with the man who died without meaning.

Suddenly, my cheeks were wet and my bottom lip trembled unrelentingly. I stared up at the rafters, hoping the sniffling would subside as I cursed aloud, “I can’t even give him solid ground to rest under.”

“Listen to me,” Impa whispered, pulling me into her bosom. “Listen to me, child. He is with the goddesses.”

She repeated it like a mantra.

“I hate this,” I withered and folded into her arms. “I hate feeling so weak.”

The tears were bitter now, stinging me with their presence and making my throat burn with abandon. I was the Queen.

Legally, I thought to myself, I had all claim to everything around me. I knew that my predecessors had wielded their power to dominate entire kingdoms from the peaks of the northern mountains to the shores of the south. They had brought about bloodshed and dominion to people for reasons as little as wanting to feel the warmth of their burning villages. Only two generations before me had sent their dissenting opposition to the gallows.

So, why was it that I felt so powerless?

“Do you know why the goddess Hylia descended?” Impa hushed. “Why did She leave the comfort of the heavens?”

I tamed myself to calm, though my voice was still odd and gravelly. “Because she loved a man.”

A maternal hand patted my head and she spoke through a smile.

“No,” she started. “No, because She loved the people created by Her hand. When She heard of the dangers coming from the underworld and how a king born of shadows was laying claim to land Hylia’s sisters had left Her, She had a choice.”

Impa sat back on the floor, taking my hand in hers like how she did when she recalled to me old myths before bedtime. I swallowed and waited for her to continue.

“Hylia could stay in paradise and allow the world to be buried,” she said, framing the choices as if she didn’t know how it would end. “Or She could descend and give Her people a fighting chance – no matter how slim it was. What do you think She chose, Zelda?”

“She chose to fight.”

“Very good.”

She procured a handkerchief from her breast pocket and allowed me to dry my cheeks.

“So,” Impa drew me in again after a couple minutes. “As we know, the goddess spent years on the Surface fighting off the darkness. She rallied Her people to find hope in the darkness and for that, they revered her only more so. For years, some say decades, Hylia lived among mortals and learned their ways. In Her time, She found that gods do not experience existence the same as humanity does.

“When the mortals experienced disappointment, their eyes grew watery. With fatigue, they grew sluggish and weary – sometimes lashing out at loved ones. When they accomplished success in battle, broad expressions crossed their faces,” she mirrored my small smile, “and oftentimes they laughed. They say Hylia enjoyed seeing that emotion the most.

“Eventually She found herself partaking in these feelings and paralleling those expressions She had once considered redundant. Her love for these mortals had only increased since She descended. However, their battles were hard-fought and even with Her light, they had only been able to maintain their ground. That is, until one day the spirit of Her holy sword told Her another was worthy enough to wield it. His name is lost to time, but the books say he was a valiant solider. In him, Hylia found a partner; the ability to feel another triviality that suddenly wasn’t so trivial.”

Impa’s smile was sad and she grasped my hands tightly in hers. “That was when She learned to love a mortal man. You and I know how this ends.”

“He dies,” I answer for her with a thick voice.

“And when he dies, She is taught that there is danger in love’s beauty. Born from his death was grief, an emotion so strong the goddess feels She will die. Hylia, the goddess of light and mother to all, realizes that the mortals around Her had been experiencing this for all Her years on the Surface. In that, She grieves more because how could She be so blind to this pain?”

I had let myself slack again the back of my chair and stared at the embroidery of my skirt. When she stopped talking, I thought aloud. “Was it worth it?”

“We are alive today because of it. I think Hylia knew that even though it would be centuries, She would see him again after life settled and after Demise was properly sealed. Similar to when we will see our loved ones when we pass on, however I do pray that we have many more years before that day,” she allowed a light chuckle.

“Yes,” I laughed with a small sniffle, “I think Uncle will be very cross if I follow him too early.”

“Now then,” she pulled me from my chair and walked me to the door. “Let’s get you to your room. You deserve rest after today and the weather is perfect to lull you asleep. When you wake, we’ll have your favorite tea and cake.”

------

“It will be an uphill battle,” Whitehurst sniffed, reading through a copy of the report sent from.

It had been a week since Uncle died and I hated the feeling of wasting time. Finally sitting with a couple advisors with a fresh stack of news felt worlds away from where I once was.

I agreed with Admiral Whitehurst, combing over the words once more. The rebels had declared the Gerudo capital as their own and announced that the aristocracy have been puppets to topple the purity of Gerudo traditions. The handwriting was distracting, but I ignored the repeated leaps in my chest and thumbed the unopened letter in my lap.

“They call us heretics of the true gods,” I rose from my propped hand with a sigh. “And then attempt another strike on our food supplies meant for starving infants. Urbosa, am I misunderstanding?”

She breathed in and rubbed the soreness in her neck. “It seems to me that from their threats to Link that they don’t consider us their people and would prefer dead children whose parents refuse their preaching.”

Whitehurst was still wary of the aristocrat and peered from across the table. “Who are their gods? Do they reject our goddess?”

“Partially,” she said. “They ascribe to the ancient three. Whereas we see Hylia as being the guardian goddess left to protect their creation, they see her as a usurper – ironically.

“Traditional creation story dictates that Hylia took advantage of the original three’s absence and bore Hylians as her minions to take over the world. The guardians of the sand fought back, baring a people that would be called Gerudo. A champion rose among them and found the Triforce. He used that power to save his people. That’s what I was told as a child.”

The Admiral wrinkled his nose. “How dubious.”

“It’s fragmented across villages. Most Gerudo in the capital worship money more than religion,” she shrugged, barely taking mind in the man. “Allow us to remember that this was a tactic in the early wars to turn people away from Hylian culture.”

Whitehurst nodded, somewhat perturbed. “What does Her Majesty call for?”

I hummed in thought. There were twenty causalities in the one hundred that accompanied the supplies. Out of those casualties were two deaths.

“It seems like the plan to send reinforcements along with reserves was the go-to,” I asserted. “I would like to refer to you to increase the amount of food three-fold. Impa believes levying taxes with grain farming territories would motivate morale.”

The Admiral stood with a stack of papers and nodded, “I’ll draw up the order.”

The letter burned a hole through my skirts and I couldn’t help looking down. The report was addressed to my full title, but between the pages of reports was a smaller envelope that simply read: Zelda.

“Riju has sent her regards to you. She says she is saddened to hear of Nathaniel’s passing. I would let you read it, but she has difficulties writing in Hylian,” Urbosa said, folding up the paper with Riju’s signature on it and setting it aside. “Truly, Zelda, let me know if you need me in any way.”

“You say that as if you haven’t comforted me for several nights already,” I smiled, negating her.

“My people grieve as a community. The commonplace of isolating oneself is considered unhealthy, while here it is almost expected.”

The way she crossed her legs billowed her Hylian skirts out as if she were wearing a Gerudo sirwal. I could tell it made Admiral Whitehurst uncomfortable earlier and the thought made me laugh.

“You aren’t wrong. If we weren’t in the middle of war, the court would have expected a three-month mourning period from me,” I only shrugged off the notion, tidying up my papers and setting Link’s letter on top. “I simply cannot afford it right now.”

Especially when the rebels were proving to be more organized than we thought. Encampments were appearing in the East Barrens with foreign flags. Not long after they were discovered the heads of three Hylian spies were found not far from the road leading into Gerudo Town. As of now, we had no way of telling if their strength or numbers.

The woman nodded. “And you have other distractions.”

“I,” I paused, momentarily bewildered by her expression. “I beg your pardon?”

“Distractions, my dove,” she laughed, lifting a hand to lazily gesture at what was before me.

Warmth bloomed on my face as I snatched the letter from her prying eyes. Urbosa only laughed heartily, “I cannot help but recognize that that hand matches the one who scrawled your reports.”

She let my embarrassment fester a moment longer. “Oh, don’t worry,” she leered. “I never said it wasn’t a good distraction.”

“Urbosa. I don’t know what you’re thinking, but this is not a regular occurrence.”

“Everyone has a right to hold secrets.”

“This isn’t a secret!” I bristled with wide eyes. “It’s a personal correspondence.”

Understanding was on her face but amusement danced in her eyes, a light I was all too accustomed to. “I see, with a man you had a short ‘engagement’ with before he left for war.”

“Engagement,” I blanched, “Engagement?! There was no engagement about that night, I’ve told you the extent of it!”

“Ah,” she closed her eyes, reminiscing. “I remember the first Hylian who followed me around like a dog. I was about Riju’s age – maybe a little older – when we snuck into the stables and she-”

The door to my office opened and a servant slipped through. He cleared his throat, “Announcing the esteemed Rito-”

“No, no, no,” a demanding voice cut through and in the doorway came a face Zelda hadn’t seen in many months. “We’ve rehearsed this,” the midnight blue Rito chastised, “The esteemed Ambassador. Yes, that is who I am. My title. Ordained by your King. It really, truly isn’t that hard.”

He carried on in subdued whispers while the poor man stood awkwardly by the doorway.

“Revali,” I called out. Then again when he was too engrossed in his discussion. “Why are you accosting my squire?”

“Accosting?” he primed, finally pulled away. The man scuttled back through the doorway and quietly shut it behind him. “Zelda – first of all, I will take the liberty of saying hello first – I’m not sure whether it has always been this way or if it’s the product of your reign, but these butlers of yours aren’t acknowledging my status and frankly? I’m shocked and perhaps a little appalled at the sight.”

“She is your sovereign and you will regard him as such,” Urbosa asserted, her tone commanding with an earthy undertone that took up the room.

Revali puffed out his chest, looking between her and I with admonishment.

I cleared my throat, “If you’ve just arrived, perhaps you’re exhausted. I can lead you to a room. I would have met you at the door, but we were expecting you tomorrow.”

“No, no, your Royal Majesty,” the Rito seethed, staring at Urbosa as he bowed with sweeping wings.

Some things, or Ritos rather, never changed. Revali had been the Rito ambassador at Hyrule castle for about three years now. Unlike other ambassadors, he preferred his home outside of Rito Village over staying at the castle full-time. However, Father had always kept that group at arm’s length, so it suited both parties up until now.

I was familiar with him and his disposition with the short interactions we’ve had. He was the son of wealthy traders and had no problem entering the realm of politics. The Rito people were bold, some would classify their pride as arrogance; those that did hadn’t met Revali.

He nodded my way as he pulled out a seat next to Urbosa. “May I?”

Neither of us could speak before he sat down leisurely.

“I see there have been many changes since I’ve graced these halls,” he said, touching the tips of his fingers together and took full advantage of the chair’s seat. “Yet I haven’t a signal update from the Crown!”

“I have sent reports of our decisions to Chief Kaneli when he sent his official recognition that I was Queen.”

Dramatics abound, he turned to Urbosa. “Is it not my job to relay these matters to my leader? Regale to me, my Queen, how I am to perform my duty.”

“I have seen nothing from you until I called for your presence last week, Ambassador Revali,” I straightened and sent him a pointed look. “And I’m willing to take much from you because I value our connection, but do not think for a second that I will willingly take commands from you. I am not my father and will not entertain your abuses because unlike him, they do not amuse me whatsoever.”

His beak fell open, but no words came out. This time he didn’t bear a glance at Urbosa, whose smug look made me stifle a grin. I didn’t get that tone from thin air. The gap of silence was the longest I had ever heard in the vicinity of this man.

Revali coughed into his fist and awkwardly shifted in his seat. “I see that my words have been misconstrued. I did not mean offense.”

“I accept your apology.”

“Yes, well, to lead into my concerns – which are very justified, mind you – my deepest condolences for the loss of General Nohansen. Even our great airmen are deeply saddened,” he bowed his head, a pivot from the dominant air of before.

I offered a subdued smile.

“And your replacement doesn’t seem awful, but I hadn’t heard that you were looking to fill the position so soon.”

Urbosa tilted her head. “We are in a war. I’m not sure if you heard about my people being persecuted.”

“Yes, yes, yes. Of course I have heard of the mad man. Gerudo women are already masculine enough. Maybe the roles have reversed, and he will be easily squashed.”

I rested my head in my hand and sighed, “No. Much of the opposite it seems.”

The Rito held an indignant look as he examined the tip of his feathers. “Seems my services were much in need,” he mumbled.

“Pardon me?” I asked. Was he expecting an invitation to be considered?

Oh, actually, that sounds very in character for him.

“All I’m saying is that it was a statement sent from Her Majesty to me,” Revali emphasized with splayed fingers.

I glanced to Urbosa who was glaring daggers at the Rito. I clasped my hands together in front of me, “I promise you that no offense was meant, Ambassador. Truly, the process of filling the position of Commanding General of Hyrule’s Royal Army was tumultuous.”

Revali leaned back with a stiff shrug and crossed his legs, then immediately uncross them to vehemently point his feathered finger at the ceiling. “Make no mistake! No offense was taken on my part. Zero offense because I would have merely turned down the offer in the first place because my title as the Rito Ambassador is already time consuming. Incredibly. Unmatched, even, across of the board.”

“Oh,” I blinked. “I’m glad that you see it that way.”

The man huffed, brushing an imaginary speck of dust from his right wing. “Indeed.”

“Zelda, I don’t think we should keep this from him.”

I turned to Urbosa, confusion written on my face.

“Don’t act coy. We can tell him,” she motioned towards Revali with a sweeping gesture. “Tell him how he was considered and how his resourcefulness would be better used elsewhere in the conflict.”

He chirped up and stared at me with wide eyes. I quickly nodded and masked any dubious expression.

“Oh, yes,” I piped up. “Your name was thrown into the mix several times by my cabinet.”

“It-it was?”

“Absolutely, Revali. You’ve been an incredibly valuable asset to Hyrule. Your years of service haven’t gone unrecognized, nor your training as a Rito airman. Such a wide variety of-” I tripped over a couple thoughts, looking for the right words.

Urbosa offered, “Skills?”

“Yes – thank you – such a wide variety of skills can’t be boiled down to ‘General’.”

Revali seemed to consider this greatly, rubbing his neck in thought. “Well,” he rasped. “Well, that I can understand. After all, Commanding General is largely a decorative title…”

“I wouldn’t necessarily go that far,” I muttered half of the sentence into my hand with a look at Urbosa. Ambassador Revali nodded affirmations to himself as he stared holes into the carpet.

“May I ask, Your Majesty,” he said, looking up finally. “What were your plans for me?”

I sat up in my seat and thumbed an ink quill in my hands. The feeling of opportunity rose in my chest with robust hope easing into my heart.

“I would like to inquire in your people’s support in defending fellow Hyruleans.”

He sat up with me, towards the edge of his seat.

“You mean to assert that you want additional support.”

“I do,” I said, feeling the pointed tip of the quill dig into my thumb. “The Rito and Hylian people used have strong bonds in meat trading. I wish to bridge the gap in the years our agreements fell through; even strengthen them more than what they once were.”

Revali seemed intrigued. “Under what pretense?”

“There’s no pretense,” I smiled, “I think we can both agree that Rito airmen are incredibly prolific through military history. Chief Kaneli’s support, no matter how little is, would be a great honor and assist our efforts in preserving the Gerudo aristocracy.”

“I can’t refute that,” he nodded. “I can say that Kaneli holds Her Majesty in the highest regard and has great hope for your reign… however our recent history has him wary. It will take some convincing.”

“I understand completely. If anything, do I have the Rito Ambassador’s support?”

He breathed a dramatic sigh. “Yes, I suppose you do.”

--------

After meeting behind meeting, I snuck behind a rose bush in the gardens. The light was dying, but I couldn’t wait anymore. Wedged between the pages of my notebook was the small letter from before. It was no bigger than my hand and I took care to rip the wax-sealed seam.

Zelda,

I’m sorry this took so long to write.

A smile was already brimming my lips and I mouthed: Don’t be.

There was an attempted ambush as we passed Satori Mountain. Byron’s scouts spied them first and they were dispatched early on, but you should know this long before this letter reaches you. The supply line-

The last couple words were neatly crossed out.

I don’t know why I want to give you a report when you’ve most likely already read the one I’ve already written you. It’s been on my mind too much, but so have you. I’m sorry I couldn’t stay longer that morning and I’m sorry I couldn’t have been there when Nathaniel passed.

There’s so much I wanted to tell you before I left. Being alone with my thoughts while we traveled only added to that. I could write one hundred apologies about asking you to forget about us and then dredging it up again. One hundred more if the nights between left you just as distraught as I was. It’s hard for me to speak about my feelings and when it comes down to it – pretending they don’t exist is what I usually resort to.

I couldn’t do that with you. I care about you. I tried to convince myself I didn’t, hadn’t, and I failed miserably; only making it more known to myself how helpless you’ve made me.

And despite everything, I hope you’re smiling when you’re reading this because the selfish thought keeps me from ending this letter. I want to talk to you as I do this paper and hear your witty remarks that are far too intelligent for your own good. The same intelligence that I am convinced will end this conflict far sooner than I anticipate so I can see you again.

But I’m rambling.

I’m safe. The only casualty on the road was a lad with a twisted ankle. I did run into the boys from Hateno. Do you remember Mac and Toma Ratliff? They thought it was a prank when someone mention “General” in front of my name and got written up for insubordination.

Nonetheless, Zelda, I will wait for you.

Yours,

Link

#done!#wanna cry with me now?#i did cry writing this chapter #htbaq #how to be a queen #zelink #zelda #link #loz #loz fanfiction #zelink fanfiction #ashleyswrittenwords

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ihavethoughtsplural · 5 years ago

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Blood and Chocolate: An Adaptation in Name Only

Previously: Section 0 – Introduction, Section 1 – The Book, Section 2 – Adaptation Challenges

Section 3 – The Adaptation

Preface: The 2007 adaptation of Blood and Chocolate directed by Katja von Garnier and written by Ehren Kruger and Christopher Landon did not receive critical acclaim. It stands at 11% on Rotten Tomatoes, and a New York Times review by Jeannette Catsoulis called it “uninvolving and cliché-ridden”. The box office returns were similarly underwhelming, grossing $3.5 million domestically and $6.3 million internationally against a $15 million budget – an $8.7 million loss for a production company used to receiving at least a modest return on investment for other, similar properties.

(Ahem.)

But, does it have any merit? It may have failed by the metrics of profitability and critical response, but that does not mean that the film was an entirely, or even partially, failed endeavor.

Summary: Following a surprisingly faithful Romeo and Juliet plot, the movie Blood and Chocolate centers on Vivian, the werewolf Juliet, an orphan living in Bucharest with her Aunt Astrid, who serves as a rough Nurse analogue. They are ruled by Gabriel, the Paris, a tyrannical pack leader with romantic designs on Vivian. The human Romeo, Aiden, is a wandering American artist who encounters Vivian anonymously in an empty church, whereupon he becomes determined to find and court her. Meanwhile, tensions are rising with the Tybalt character, Vivian’s cousin Rafe. He discovers Vivian and Aiden’s romance, threatens Aiden, and is eventually killed by Aiden in self-defense.

Eventually, Vivian gets poisoned and she and Aiden attempt to escape the city. She is captured and locked up in Gabriel’s headquarters, where Aiden arrives and rescues her. In the process, Vivian kills Gabriel. Afterward, they escape, steal Gabriel’s car, and drive off into the sunset.

Also, there’s a prophecy about Vivian? More on that later.

Themes: The themes of the movie deviate sharply from the themes of the book. No longer does Vivian struggle with what she wants as opposed to what she needs, because the movie removes any such opposition. In the movie, as in the book, Vivian wants to be with Aiden, but the movie rearranges the rest of the plot and the characters so that what she no longer needs to accept (and find a partner who also accepts) her dual nature as a werewolf to find happiness and fulfillment. Instead, what the film version of Vivian needs is to get away from her creepy, possessive pack leader and forge her own destiny. This “need” no longer stands in opposition to her “want”. On the contrary, the two share a resolution – run away from Bucharest with Aiden. The tension between the human and the animal sides of Vivian’s nature is also reworked. In the book, she can’t pretend to be human, but she also can’t lose control and give in to her animal side. She needs to balance both. The movie, on the other hand, has Vivian definitively choose her human side by choosing Aiden. Actually, no, it’s not just that she chooses her human side – the movie shows her actively rejecting her werewolf side throughout the movie. And, well, given the way that werewolf society is treating her, I can’t really blame her. I wouldn’t fight to stay with these people either. They were ready to pair her off with a man old enough to be her father without her consent.

Honestly, I wasn’t really wondering why she wanted to leave with Aiden, but more wondering why she hadn’t left already.

This leads into the theme that was added for the movie: destiny vs. choice. As a girl from “the line of Kings,” Vivian is destined by a nebulous prophecy to lead the Bucharest pack into the Age of Hope. Who prophesied this? If she’s from the line of Kings, why is Gabriel leading the pack? Does Vivian even fulfill this prophecy? We never really find out.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m a sucker for a prophecy storyline. It just – it has to matter. And the prophecy in this movie does not matter. You could cut every mention of it, and nothing substantial would change. One of the biggest mysteries about this movie is why the screenwriters added a prophecy element if they weren’t going to bother to pay it off.

She is also destined (either by the prophecy or because Gabriel says so) to be Gabriel’s next mate, continuing the tradition of the pack leader choosing a new mate every 7 years. Vivian does not appear to have a choice in the matter.

Throughout the movie, Vivian feels chained by this destiny, leading her to keep Aiden at a distance and warning him away from her. Aiden, however, ignores her boundaries and her clear wish to be left alone. He tells her that she needs to ignore her family’s plans for her and make her own choices, mostly because he’s hoping that she’ll chose to date him. In the end, Vivian accepts Aiden’s outlook, choosing to defy Gabriel’s wishes by saving Aiden and escaping Bucharest with him.

Highs: There are two major elements that I like about this movie, and I do honestly like them. I’ve watched this movie a lot, and, no, it’s not just hatewatching. I genuinely enjoy this movie.

o The Cast: I really like Agnes Bruckner. She was great in the slasher movie, Venom, and I think she made an admirable Vivian. Despite some of the cheesier lines, she turns in a decent performance. I believed that she felt guilty about her family’s deaths. I believed that she felt torn between her attraction to Aiden and her duty to her pack. I even believed that moment in the ending where Vivian can’t bring herself to kill Gabriel, despite the threat that he represents.

Of course, the script ruins that seconds later when she just… shoots him anyway? Also, and this is a violently American thing to say, but did they have to use the wimpiest sounding gun possible?

I think that Hugh Dancy as Aiden was the standout performance of the movie. He portrayed Aiden as playful, sweet, and resourceful, and his switch from sensitive artist to unlikely badass is nicely set up with his story about defending himself against his abusive father. I also think that he and Bruckner have some decent chemistry. Say what you will about the romantic fountain montage - they look like they’re genuinely enjoying each other’s company.

Also, he spends the last half of the movie bruised and slightly bloody, and I don’t mind that at all.

As for the rest of the cast, I think they gave fine performances despite the material that they had to work with. When movies fail, there seems to be an impulse to blame the cast and rip their performances apart – but I won’t. I don’t blame the cast for the commercial and critical failure of this movie – I blame the people who had actual creative control (the producers, director, screenwriters, etc.).

o The Concept: An ancient dynasty of werewolf leaders extending from primeval Europe into the modern day? Yes fuckin’ please! This is exactly the kind of canon expansion that I was craving from the book! And, okay, yeah. The book’s version of werewolf society is very different from the movie’s version. In the book, werewolf packs are moderately sized clusters of families and individuals ruled by an alpha pair. Other werewolf packs exist, but there doesn’t seem to be any person or group governing werewolf society as a whole. This would seem to directly contradict the movie’s take on werewolf society, but it doesn’t have to. The book’s werewolves originated in western Europe, and from there emigrated to the US in the 1600’s. The movie’s werewolves originated in eastern Europe and stayed there. There’s no reason why those two groups of werewolves couldn’t have started with or evolved two different social structures leading up to the present day. In fact, if you can ignore the shared titles and character names, the movie Blood and Chocolate can be viewed as a new story set in the fictional universe established by the book Blood and Chocolate. And that’s how I choose to view this– it lets me get past my nerd rage and enjoy the movie for what it is.

Lows: While I do honestly enjoy this movie, I would be lying if pretended that it was flawless. Blood and Chocolate didn’t get its reputation by accident. Here are my thoughts on some of the more egregious missteps. o The Script: Okay guys, we need to talk. I’ve seen people defending this movie, saying that it’s an unfairly maligned gem, and I CAN’T. Guys, the dialogue. Have you LISTENED to the dialogue?

Aiden, pleading: “I’ll take the train, I swear it. I’m gone. I’m on that train.”

Rafe: “I AM THE TRAIN!”

(Boy, WHY are you crouching on the railing like a heterochromatic gremlin?)

Like I said in the last section, I don’t blame the actors for the movie’s failure. I don’t. They had no control over this shit. I do, however, blame the screenwriters; all SIX of them. This film had SIX separate people working on the script and was still released with Hugh Dancy shouting, “If you cared a goddamn thing about me, you would have left me before we ever met!”

This is astonishing for its misunderstanding of linear time if for nothing else.

Seriously, though – Hugh Dancy, cinnamon roll and internet darling, cannot make these lines sound good. When even the best actor in your movie can’t make it work, you know that the script is baaaaad.

o The Wolves: Remember the bit about practical effects vs. CGI in the previous post? Yeah, the filmmakers went hard on the CGI. It made sense given the relatively small budget to go the CGI route as a money saving maneuver. However, the director, Katja von Garnier, decided to use the CGI in the most ridiculous way possible.

(🎶 FIGHTING EVIL BY MOONLIGHT! 🎶)

The werewolves jump into the air, turn into an ethereal glow, and emerge as wolves. While this is not an inherently bad idea (it’s different, and it could, in theory, look cool), the execution was a huge misfire. Seeing the actors leap forward into a sparkly, pastel shimmer was never anything but ridiculous, and the Sailor Moon aesthetic of it just did not fit with the grungy, realistic look of the rest of the movie.

(Hey, cinematographer: if you want these transformations to fit with the rest of the movie, maybe make the movie LESS F*ING BROWN?) Additionally, the transformed werewolves were simply real wolves. Listening to Katja von Garnier’s commentary, you come away with the impression that she is suuuuuper proud of getting the cast and crew to work with live animals. However, the wolves that they used are a bit on the smaller side.

As a result, they didn’t really inspire much fear. For example; in the scene where Rafe murders the girl he’s been stalking, you see both the girl and the wolf in the same shot, and it absolutely kills the tension. Like, girl - roll up a newspaper and boop him on the nose.

o Rafe: The screenwriters desperately wanted Rafe to be menacing, and bless Bryan Dick for trying, but it does not work at all. Rafe in the movie is petulant, sleazy, definitely an asshole, and explicitly a murderer, but I never believed him as a threat. In the confrontation at the chapel, Hugh Dancy stands half a head taller than Bryan Dick, and while neither of them are exactly musclebound, it’s pretty obvious who would win in a fight. For me to buy Rafe as a legitimate danger, he needed to be less foppish, more unhinged, and just physically bigger.

(FFS, Vivian is taller than he is! How is he supposed to be intimidating?)

o Gabriel: I don’t know who decided to turn the romantic lead of the book into the jealous villain of the movie, but they need to be slapped across the face with a trout. It’s been over a decade since the movie came out, and I have learned to shrug off most of the bizarre adaptational choices, but this one still just pisses me off. The evisceration of Gabriel’s character is the biggest betrayal of the source material.

In the book, Gabriel was a foil to Aiden, and Vivian choosing Gabriel symbolized her acceptance of her dual nature. It meant that she wouldn’t have to compromise her identity to be accepted and loved. The adaptation could have provided an opportunity to rework Gabriel’s character arc. It could have cleaned up the age-gap ickiness, removed the non-consensual kiss, nixed the prior relationship with Vivian’s mother and generally made Gabriel as a love interest more palatable for movie audiences. But, whatever. The filmmakers already threw out the core of the human vs. animal theme from the book, so why not just utterly warp Gabriel while they’re at it? Plus, the clueless human love interest vs. the lecherous supernatural stalker dynamic worked for Underworld, so it’s going to work here, right?

The Stuff I’m Choosing Not to Nitpick (in depth): I just- I don’t know, man. I used to get really worked up about this stuff, but I don’t really feel like devoting any real analysis to these points. Take these potshots and do with them what you will.

o The Parkour: Time has not been kind to parkour. The filmmakers gambled on it being cool for the long haul, and they lost that wager. I get that it takes a lot of skill, and I get what the filmmakers were trying to do with it, but it just looks silly. o The Hunt: I mean, it directly violates the most important werewolf law from the source material, but I’m willing to believe that this ancient werewolf faction in Romania came up with a sanctioned way to hunt humans, so I can forgive this. o The Eye Thing: The early-mid aughts were really impressed with the power and symbolism of colored contacts, weren’t they?

o Astrid: They mashed Astrid and Esme’s characters together and called the resulting chimera Vivian’s aunt. I don’t hate this change as much as I used to. I mostly just wonder why they bothered. The movie had already changed the book’s storyline so much that neither Astrid nor Esme were necessary for the new plot. They could have cut this character out entirely and no one would have missed her.

o The White Wolf: Of course the main character turns into the only white wolf in the movie. ‘Cuz symbolism!

o The (implied) Sex Scene: Sure, she’s dying of silver poisoning, you’re both hiding in a decrepit film warehouse and the werewolf mafia is hunting you, but GO AHEAD. This is the ideal time AND place to bone!

(This woman is clearly DTF.)

Verdict: I want to be really clear on this point – I love this movie. I mean, let me remind you of my cinematic tastes.

Here’s the thing - there is a difference between movies that are “good” and movies that are “enjoyable”. Blood and Chocolate is not a “good” movie. The plot is formulaic as hell, the dialogue is laughably inept, and any actual potential it had to do something new and innovative with the werewolf genre was squandered. Seriously – one of the remarkable things about the book was how it centered a monster story on the monsters and made them sympathetic. The movie? Turns the monsters back into one-dimensional bad guys. But, hey, at least they made the transformations maaaaaaagical! That said, Blood and Chocolate is absolutely an “enjoyable” movie. I have watched this thing dozens of times since it came out, and each time I find something new to amuse me. The dialogue is hilarious, the special effects miss the mark so badly, and every time you find a new plot hole, an angel gets its wings. What’s more, it contains enough genuinely good elements to balance out the bad. It is a delightful example of low camp, and a worthy addition to any “so bad it’s good” film collection.

I’m not alone in that assessment, either. If you look at amateur reviews of the movie, you’ll find a lot of people defending it despite its flaws. It has an audience!

So, why didn’t it make more money?

Next Week: Section 4 – The Autopsy

#blood and chocolate #annette curtis klause #werewolves #katja von garnier #agnes bruckner #hugh dancy #olivier martinez #B&C-AAINO

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